#this is why ancient vampires are so powerful

[thethirdromana]

Broke: vampires are vulnerable to the trappings of Christianity only, particularly Catholicism, no matter how dubiously applied. (See: Van Helsing's Communion wafer grouting).

Woke: vampires are vulnerable to sincere faith of all kinds, and atheist vampire-hunters need to believe very strongly in the Power of Friendship or their love of Star Trek to get by.

Bespoke: vampires are vulnerable to the faith that they followed when they were alive, and hunters tracking down an ancient vampire are obliged to learn about Neo-Babylonian theology or Middle Palaeolithic bear cults.

[ineffably-human]

We're going to scream about Nandermo all week, but right now I need to talk about Baron Afanas. Because the Baron's arc, so to speak, always felt like a big part of the series DNA for me - and oh fuck did this episode deliver on why.

I think we can agree: in the show, vampire society is fucked up, right?

Vampires on their own have plenty to deal with that can make them crazy. They have to live by killing. They lose everyone from their old lives. They have to find new reasons to keep going on, forever, so shit can get decadent really fast.

But holy shit, what that's turned into in vampire society? Where you actively put cruelty over mercy, and violence over solving your problems? Death cults and scam artists roam free, but if someone has depression the best thing to do is ignore them. Someone can get their mind wiped or be locked up for centuries, and that's just what you do to your species.

--

So: the Baron's arrival is the first conflict of the whole show. The joke is about an ancient powerful creature of pants-shitting terror, vs three lesser vampires who just want to live their lives and not get murdered for being too lazy to conquer humanity. There's a lot of talk about how to please him: do you keep to the old ways, or pick up some new traditions? Decorate with flayed skin, or with glitter? And the Baron says: who cares, you're all soft and useless. All that matters is getting more control over this world, until people are cattle and we have no reason to hide anymore.

But later he confesses: that shit stopped mattering ages ago. He's not even real nobility, he's literally impotent, and he talks about doing horrible things because he doesn't know what else to say. He's angry and half-crazy from boredom. And admitting that, owning those feelings, means suddenly he has three new friends and a whole new world of things to enjoy.

There's the Baron the rest of the vampire world knows, but for one night we see the ancient, unknowable terror was just a guy. Maybe he's always been just some guy.

That fun puts him in a vulnerable position, and he's killed by the most unwitting vampire slayer in fiction. But Baron Afanas is changed. He sucks dirt for a year and still comes out of it with a new lightness and joy to him. He saves the Sire, another ancient terrifying monster everyone was eager to kill or send away. They adopt the hellhound. They get cozy and give advice. They make popsicle stick houses and go on walks. They live.

And that seemed like the end of the story until last night - when the Baron suddenly felt like the butt of a joke everyone knew but him. Spurred on by someone else who feels lonely and ignored, the Baron felt vulnerable. And he snapped back to how he lived for centuries.

'What the hell are you all doing, enjoying yourselves? We're supposed to be unhappy. We're supposed to live centuries of unhappiness, bringing pain to everyone in our path, and we're definitely not supposed to cheer up our friend who's sad.'

--

Nobody liked the Baron before Guillermo killed him, not even other powerful vampires we meet; they saw the Baron as a crazy far beyond their own crazy. But this is also how vampire society values you. It's how they measure Nandor's worth when they think he's dead, too: how old and powerful you are, how much you've been able to conquer and kill.

Vampire pods are both cliquish and aren't expected to last in the first place. If someone dies, you literally paint them out of your lives and forget. Everything we see discourages feelings, sincerity, or even basic companionship. The only way to earn respect is to be cruel. The more cruel you are, the more powerful you are. The more powerful you are, the more feared you are - the lonelier you are, the crazier you are. It's practically designed to create the Baron, or worse.

But new vampires don't behave that way. And the vampires we follow in the show don't behave that way - because they have each other, because they've been encouraged to have each other, often by Guillermo. (Holy shit, Nadja saying maybe she'd be fine dying, and Nandor immediately asking if she's okay? Nothing changes in this house, except everything does. They're not going to almost lose one of their own ever again.)

The vampires in the heart of vampire culture never seem happy to be like this. It doesn't have to be like this.

--

The Baron doesn't become a tyrannical monster for long. Because he never actually was one - and because he spends two evenings and a fireball to the face, watching Nandor and Nadja fight for Guillermo. Watching them plead and cling and defy, seeing Guillermo's earnest feelings in spite of his bloodline and the mistakes he's made. Seeing Nandor's perfect trust, and then his grief, the way he insists that Guillermo was never 'just' anything. The Baron can't find real fulfillment in hurting someone (because that ship sailed ages ago). He can't deride them for caring, because he's cared for a long time now.

And when the Baron admits that's who he is, when he says it out loud, he only gains more in his life. He finds new depth in the happiness he'd felt for a while now, because he's admitted and allowed himself to be happy. And now he has the children he's always wanted. Living together, the Baron and the Sire are still ancient and powerful - and they're also family, finding real joy together in a world that was ready to dispose of them.

"I suppose with the right company, it can be beautiful, this eternal existence."

--

There's an inherent selfishness to being a vampire, taking from someone else in order to live. But there doesn't have to be inherent cruelty, or lack of love.

They're all ready to admit they care. The Staten vampires have all cared for Guillermo or each other in their own ways this season. And Guillermo doesn't lack for flaws, but loving his monster family has never been one of them. (When he and Nandor work their shit out, they're gonna be insufferable.)

Now they just have to let the Guide in. Because she's absolutely starved for love, and vampires get pretty fucked up when they're on their own.

[pursuitseternal]

“Seek Me:” naughty Hide and Seek for you and your Vampire Lord in “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3.4 K of predator/prey, hide and seek double smut

Summary: To fight the impending ennui of politics, you play a game, just a simple hunt, a sort of dark and perverted hide and seek. Winner claims the spoils, and the spoils are always… delicious.

CW: predator/prey dynamics, perverted hide and seek, slight exhibitionism (twice), rough sex, possessive sex, double cream pie, (surprise) carriage sex

Ao3 link | Astarion fic Masterlist

Chapter 11… Seek Me

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Shadows stretch across the palace halls, bending and misshaping anything familiar. That creeping memory of sneaking in here years ago to stop the Rite that made you and your love what you are still niggles in your thoughts and nightmares sometimes.

Times like this, you wonder why Astarion insisted on living in such a place of past torment. Even though the decor was brighter and the crimsons more vibrant, it didn’t matter in the dark.

All looked the same cloaked in shadows and covered in night.

Your undead heart pounds, it's slow and hard as your breasts rise and fall rapidly with your breaths. Why… why did you agree to let him go first? Some little game to break the ennui. A simple game of hide and seek. But you should have known, hiding and seeking was more than that in an ancient ancestral, vampiric palace.

And it was always more than that with Astarion, your love, your sire, your husband.

You keep your eyes open for his glowing red gaze… your ears train the ground for his near silent step… he’s far more practiced at all being a vampire entails. He can hold his breath, slow his heart, move like death incarnate.

Your only advantage is that you know the palace better. All these days spent overseeing renovations as he attended council meetings and travels, you had more than a few tricks up your sleeve. As long as he didn’t catch you first.

Darting onto the balcony, you keep to the shadows and hug the wall. If you can just make it inside the hall, you’re sure he won’t find you for quite some time.

After all, it’s just a little game to play while your guests are still departing, admiring your new palace. It’s only a matter of time now before you both need to leave for some grand soirée, another of many evenings wrapped up in tedium and the boring banter of politics and power. This game is to spice up the evening ahead. And instead, it just makes your heart race.

Winner or loser, you know you’re just going to end up split on his cock, gasping and pleasured wherever you are. Wherever it is he finds you.

You just hope it’s not within earshot of these nobles…these poor, pathetic souls who wander to look at your splendorous home. You hear their voices from down below, lightening your step to go unnoticed. Muffled noises grow closer. Hands shaking, you know that hidden door is here… behind this panel, your hands skim over the ornate wallpaper, searching with fumbling touch for the switch. Noises grow louder, and suddenly you’re aware of the milling crowd on the other side of the railing. They can just catch you from the corners of their judgemental eyes, their ears just within reach enough to hear you if you were to make enough noise…

You wonder if they can also hear those footsteps approaching. Astarion. Hunting you down, seeking you in your fun and twisted game.

Trembling, ragged breaths come from your mouth as you finally hear the click of the hidden switch, the panel shifting in the wall to reveal total and utter darkness. You smile, relieved….

Until two glowing crimson eyes open to look down on you from within. Quicker than breath, he’s turned you around, dagger to your throat and arms pinning you against his chest as he laughs so quietly in your ear. “Shhhh, not a sound… my treasure.” He grinds his prominent erection on the curve of your ass through your thin silken gown. “Not if you want those Patriars and Council members to hear how much of a slut you are for your lover…”

You swallow the sound that longs to break from your throat. His hand, the one that isn’t skating the blade of his dagger tantalizingly over your neck, skates up your thigh, rucking up your skirts to reveal your bare legs and curves. Just the way he likes you.

“You want that, want to show off how much I crave you, don’t you…?” you hiss the question, pulling at his arm enough to free you, but he only retaliates with a smile on his lips.

Clutching you all the harder, he spins you both into the wall to press you into that elegant wallpaper. That dagger blade is stowed away, replaced by his hand at your neck. His laugh is laced with pure devilry—he lives for this. That hand returns to hiking up your skirt until you feel nothing but the fine, supple leather of his trousers grinding against your ass. “You question if I’d like the powerful men of this city to know that its Hero against the Netherbrain whimpers for me almost every hour of the day?” You feel his hands quickly, dexterously unlace those leathers. That thick, hot head of his cock teases against your ass, slipping beneath your thighs as he spreads you wider with his knee. “You wonder if I’m proud that my beloved longs for me always, and I for her?”

You stifle your groan against the rich and ribbed texture of the wallpaper. That cock head teasing into your entrance just enough to make you shake, to make you press against the wall harder to lift your hips more for him. A low growl shakes against your sensitive ear as he approves, that cock teasing inside you just a little bit more. “Tell me, my treasure, how hard did you try to hide from me? That couldn’t have really been your best…” he taunts you, both with that hot and blunted head in your folds and his words in your ear. “Once I’m finished claiming my victory this round, you’ll just have to try again you know…”

Shivering, you nod, your cheek rubbing that expensive paper, its lush colors too bright to have your face shoved against it. “Oh no, I was barely trying, my love,” you lie just to taunt him all the same. “I just wanted you to claim your victory, worried you’d take too long for how badly I need you.”

“Such pleasing words from my lust-driven consort,” he chuckles, quiet enough for your ear alone. “Such a slut, just for me, is that it?” he rasps as he shoves himself deep into you at last, fangs sinking into your neck all at once. “What kind of lover would I be to deny you that?”

He sucks harder at your neck, hips pistoning against your rear deliberately and smoothly. You physically bite your tongue and cheek to keep from moaning, the hard won prize of this game going to both of you, that desire flooding your bond. Thighs shaking, you know you won’t last much longer, not with the thrill of being just out of eyesight from the dozen or so guests that still mill around. “I look forward to you trying to beat me again,” he growls in your ear, words staggered and stuttered with his thrusts. “But we better finish this round before anyone suspects the Vampire Lord and his Consort of being so madly in love they can’t keep their hands or sexes off each other, hmm?”

A small whine escapes your self-imposed gag on your lips, and it makes him laugh low and dangerously in his throat. “What a good little consort,” he nips at your ear. “Just can’t help yourself. So clever to get caught…” he groans. With that thickening inside you, that gravel in his voice, you know he’s growing close.

The thought alone makes you come undone, back arching, your fangs breaking your own lip’s flesh. It takes every ounce of self-restraint to keep yourself from mewling and screaming as you burst in heat. And all the while, he’s groaning and rasping in your right ear. Shivers run down your back as he grunts harder in that sensitive spot against your neck. Erratic, hard thrusts jab deep inside you, his cock twitching as it pulses and fills you.

“That scent will make it harder for you to hide this time, you know my treasure,” he emphasizes with a deep breath right against your neck. “Your blood, my cum, your arousal… You’re such a mess, marked so well. There’s nowhere inside this palace I won’t be able to track you down, you know…”

You smirk, spinning in his arms to rest your back against the wall. “We’ll see about that…” you tease, breathless and overconfident. He just smirks, that edge of arousal and intrigue darkening the deep crimson of his narrowing eyes.

“I’m sure you’ll do your best, my darling little vampling,” he kisses your lips longingly, a little playful nip at the end, the mingling of iron on your tongues from your blood. He breaks away, eyes wide, frightening as he wraps his hand around your throat, your skin still slick from blood. “We have half an hour before we must depart for the evening, my pet. You had better not delay us, you know.”

“You wish me to let you win in that time so we remain… punctual?” you tease.

“I’m just stating the obvious,” he shakes his head very slowly as he smirks wide enough to bare his fangs, “I won’t be pleased if I have to leave without you just because you decided to be clever.”

“I… am… clever,” you taunt, tapping him on his nose with each insolent word.

Astarion pulls his hand away from your throat, eyes glinting, breath still. “Then I’ll let you get a head start, my clever girl…” he leans his fanged face into yours, “so you had better run.”

You stumble away, thighs slick as he watches you break out into the evening on the balcony again. He just laughs, your scent too strong in his nose. Voices from below call up to him, those guests wishing to impart a few more good wishes to their host before their departure for the next gathering. Astarion shoves his cock back in his trousers, perfecting his appearance before leering down at the nobles form over that thick railing. Those mortals so literally far beneath him. “A fair evening to you,” he calls with a flourish. “My lady and I will see you at the festivities anon. A few matters of home to wrap up before the evening, I’m afraid.”

He sniffs the air, the stink of these guests cloud his senses. Striding down the stairs, he tries to pick up your scent, but there are just too many bodies, too much stale wine and general stink. Once the door is shut to the palace, once he is truly alone, he tears through room after room, searching and sniffing. His mind tugs against yours. “Where are you… darling….?” he growls down your bond, but you know better than to answer. “Trying so hard to be clever, is that it?”

He sneers to himself as he sweeps silently through bedchambers and ballrooms and galleries. He presses against the walls at cracks and hidden doors to scent you within the tunnels. The clock starts to chime, and Astarion hisses in frustration. He hears the carriage rumbling outside the main doors.

“On the gods, darling,” he hisses outloud and down their bond. “If you don’t come out right now, I will be sorely disappointed.” He huffs, grabbing his gloves and cane perched neatly in the foyer. He pauses for a moment, tilting his pointed ear to listen to his palace, scanning his domain for her. “You think you’ve won?” he snips, irritated and irked as he starts out the door towards the waiting coach. It’s black paint trimmed with gold shines in the torchlight as night falls. “I assure, my darling, if you don’t come this moment to the coach for the evening’s gathering…”

He lets the threat hang in the air. Not even a tremor of a laugh from her end of their bond. Teeth grinding, he launches from the door into the gathering dark of night. He opens the carriage door with a shout for the driver to make haste. Before the door has even shut behind him, his team of raven black mares is off through the Upper City.

Astarion flops down on the elegantly cushioned seat of his coach. His cane in his hands nearly breaks in the strength of his angered grip. “How dare she…” he hisses into the dark as the carriage bumps and sways over the streets. That little window lets the wind whistle in. Usually he enjoys the breeze on his face, but now, tonight, it annoys the hells out of it. He slams it shut

Suddenly, without that breeze, a scent reaches his nose. Blood… arousal…

“Oh… my love…” your voice tickles his mind.

The couch sways around a corner, something shuffling near his feet. A hand shoots up to grab the hem of his jacket, yanking him towards the floor.

“Darling…” he purrs down at you as your eyes lock into his, your fangs must be glinting in the dim light in the carriage.

“I win,” you gloat, your body pinned beneath him on the floor of your carriage. His legs are already spreading yours, hands already roughly pulling your skirts up to your waist, yet you feel like the victor. The prey finally catches the predator in her neat little trap.

“Clever little consort, setting her snare so neatly for me to wind up between your legs…” he rasps, his body bumping and swaying against you in time with the movements of your coach. But then he begins to add a few more deliberate thrusts of his clothed and hardened cock against your already used and soaking folds. “What is the prize you wish to claim, my treasure?”

“You know my favorite prize,” you purr, catching the edge of his pointed ear in your mouth for a suck, one that deafens him for the moment from the rumble of your coach. A moan slips out from his lips far louder than would be dignified.

His ear slips from your mouth as he turns his head, a snarl in Astarion’s throat as he catches your chin. “Then it is everything you shall receive…” he growls, “when I decide to finally give it to you…” he teases you darkly, those hips grinding against your folds mercilessly. He’s heavy on your core, the bumping and jostling of the carriage stealing your breath as he sometimes times his thrusts with the unpredictable up-down. It only makes him laugh harder and capture your lips in his when he squashes you so completely.

“Maybe if you had just played the game properly, you wouldn’t be feeling so trapped like the little prey you are for me, my little treat…” he nips into your neck, just a small bite. Enough to draw blood by the mouthful for him to feast on.

“I did play, and I won,” you chuckle low in your throat, reaching between our hips to blatantly touch myself. “Maybe it’s time you paid respects to the victor this round?” You tease him, acerbic and haughty as he hears your fingers toying through your own slick.

Astarion gives that low and wicked laugh, relishing your defiant spirit. “I don’t think you want anything respectful done with you…. Do you my treasure?” He can’t stiffle a groan as he teases his own cock head through your sopping seam. Over the rattling of your wooden coach cobblestones, you hear the wet sounds of him playing inside you. It sends shivers down your spine and makes you bite your lips enough to draw your own blood to paint your lips scarlet.

You groan, the carriage lurches around a corner making you both roll to the side. A wicked laugh in your throat, you take full advantage of the surprise. Momentum swings you around, until you are the one on top, in a second, a little rise of your hips, and you sink his cock deep inside you.

Astarion bares his fangs and hisses at the sudden warmth and wet that sucks him in, his head now bouncing on the floor. You ride him mercilessly. “Such a good prize you are…” you tease him, gripping his chin to make him look at you. “Nothing like having the Vampire Ascendant at my mercy for once,” you flaunt your victory.

“You think yourself so clever and….” he starts, but you press a finger against his mouth before sticking two of them inside his mouth as you shush him.

“Hush,” you smirk, glowing in your moment of power. You swirl your fingers around his mouth, grazing over his wet and sucking tongue, pricking your skin on his razor-fangs. “Just let your clever Consort have this victory once,” you smile, pouting down at him a bit as you pull your fingers from his salivating lips.

“Very well, my darling,” he growls, “but at least you could let your loving Ascendant lord sit up so his head isn’t addled by the roads.”

You snicker, “Of course. We wouldn’t want to have your mind any more befuddled by my glorious win.” Your smirk is feral and arrogant. You ease off of him, watching with a knowing and careful eye as he slides himself up to rest against the door of the carriage.

He tosses his head, your bodies still joined perfectly, the coach still rocking with that extra, insatiable friction that moves your sexes on their own. He smirks as you ride over a massive bump, one that fairly throws you into the air to slide down his cock with more force than you can give. You gasp as it makes you land squarely on him, cock head slamming your cervix.

The grin on his face grows delightfully sadistic as it twists those sharp features. You see his ears twitching as he listens closely to the rumbles of the coach, smirk winding higher as he lifts you up in time with the coach to slam you back down as it falls….

You grit your teeth and scream through them with a smile as he fills you, sharp and suddenly. “Get riding, my clever treasure,” he chuckles as he pulls you in for a kiss, “or these roads and I will do it for you.”

You give him a glare, more amorous than angry, your mouth slack as you buck your hips with abandon. You bite your lip as you move, the vibrations of the coach send you barreling towards your bliss so quickly. Hard and fast, your hands grip into the stitching of his jacket, his breath hot at the base of your neck. His gaze burns your skin, watching the way your breasts jiggle and move right before his eyes as you are thrown around, at the mercy of the coach’s movements.

He groans, the pressure so great inside you both, you feel it searing between you and crashing down your mental bond. With one breath, you clench around him, his hands grip into your waist to keep you steady as he tries to snap his hips. It bursts inside you, the pressure and pleasure erupting through your core as you reach your peaks as one. He places a breathless kiss on the soft skin of your bosom. “I do so love when you win too, my perfect prey and equal hunter…” he pants against your flesh. “I’ll gladly let you claim your victory from me…” his left brow arches rakishly and teasing, “but only when you’ve earned it, my darling…”

“Hmmm,” you hum, irritated and yet shivering in pleasure. “Just admit, I’m just as good…”

Suddenly the carriage rumbles to a stop, and you lock eyes with Astarion. Voices approach from behind the door, and your two sets of crimson eyes flare wide a moment before the door pulls open behind him.

He grunts as he spills backward, unceremoniously dangling out the door. His head hangs over the edge of the coach, his fanged smile wide and grinning as he stares into the crow upside down, while your hands grabbing furiously at your skirts to hide your sexes still throbbing and intertwined. He laughs that low and rumbling giggle, quite the sight as other guests pause to stare at the Vampire Ascendant indulging within his own private coach. “Well,” he chortles, sitting up to give a bit of privacy as you slide off his lap, “there isn’t any use hiding our love any longer…” Astarion nips at your neck playfully as he refastesns his trousers. “If they sought a glimpse into the loving depravities of the Ascendant and his consort, they certainly found it.”

You giggle, the rush of being so on display racing through your nerves. Carefully you follow him out of the coach, both of you straightening your clothes as if nothing happened. “And you wanted to play your games thinking tonight would be boring,” you rasp into his ear.

He stops in the middle of the grave path and pulls you hard into him, his kiss all lips and fangs and tongue down your throat. Hiding nothing of your passion from the spectators. “Nothing is boring when I’m with you.”

[elementroar]

Analysis behind the backstory and personal story arcs of A.B.A. and Paracelsus (part 1)

Sorry for the people who waited. Technical and real life delays and all that. On the positive, I happened to run into new resources in the past two days that have helped lining up the facts easier.

Anyway, I originally wanted to compress all the lore into a single post, but I find it’s so much more massive once you really dig into the analysis between the story across multiple mediums, the in-game animations and interactions etc. To make this more readable for you all and to make creating these posts faster, I’m going to separate them up into parts that focus on different facets of their relationship and lore as I progress through them.

This first part goes into their origins, and I hope this big post helps to thoroughly explain who/what A.B.A. and Paracelsus are, their backstories prior to STRIVE, and my own analysis sprinkled on top. I want to try to keep the info/lore dump minimal and focused, so if I mention a character without elaborating, I’ll leave a link but if I’m not elaborating more, it’s because they’re not relevant to A.B.A/Paracelsus' stories that much.

Related links:

Analysis of Paracelsus' initial bloodlust and its longlasting effects on A.B.A (Part 2)

This is the "Why ABA and Paracelsus can feel horny" lore/theory post

The beginning with A.B.A.

First off, to introduce their individual origins, it’s easiest to start with A.B.A. She’s a homunculus, an artificial lifeform created by a scientist in his mansion, which was located in the mountains of a region called Frasco or Flask. But before she was ‘born’, her creator had been taken away by the military for his skills in creating artificial life, and so A.B.A. woke up alone.

Despite this, within the 10 years she spent alone in the mansion she was able to learn to read, write, and even create some alchemical magic (seen in some of her attacks in games before -STRIVE-). It’s assumed either she was created with a set of memories and skills, or she naturally learns very quickly. It’s probably due to reading leftover journals and research materials that she even learnt her creator’s name was Paracelsus.

Technically, A.B.A. could’ve left the manor quite easily, there was even a village not far from them. However, she understood that she knew nothing about the world outside and was scared to leave the safety of the manor by venturing outside to explore the unknown world. But she did yearn for freedom and to leave Frasco, so she took to fixating on keys, which she found fascinating in being able to unlock doors to different places.

In the last bit of her 10 years in Frasco, A.B.A would accidentally cross paths with the hidden the demon axe Flament Nagel (which she would later rename to ‘Paracelsus’ in honour of her creator, or just cos that’s the only other name she actually knew).

What’s a demon axe doing here anyway?

So what is Paracelsus? He is what’s known as a magical foci, which are objects or even people that get a soul or a collection of memories/emotions/desires attached to them, which eventually leads to them gaining sentience and often supernatural abilities. They draw from the Backyard, which is basically where the information that makes up all reality is stored in the Guilty Gear world, and also the source of magic. This is the origin of ‘demons’ within the GG world, like Paracelsus.

The story of how Paracelsus/Flament Nagel ended up in Frasco actually involves the ancient Nightwalker (technically not a vampire but he's basically a vampire without the bad stuff) known as Slayer.

Now Slayer is this incredibly old, incredibly strong vampire Nightwalker, who nonetheless is a very nice guy who doesn’t need to feed on regular people because his wife, Sharon, is a deathless woman that he can feed on indefinitely without worrying about her dying.

Because of his immense age (AFAIK he’s the oldest of the main GG cast) and overwhelming power (he always holds back in-game), he has very insightful observations of Paracelsus and A.B.A.

The following screenshots are excerpts taken from the English transcript (available here) translated from the Night of Knives Vol.2 audio drama CD (you can listen to it here), and are from the perspective of Slayer recounting his encounters with Paracelsus and A.B.A.

Sometime near the end of the 100 year long war between Gears and humans known as the Crusades, Slayer was roaming a battlefield and came across a mountain of corpses of both Gears and humans. In the middle of it was a wandering blood covered warrior that was swinging an axe wildly. After confronting the man, Slayer realized that it was the axe that was the true master, the man had already lost his mind and was under its full control.

That axe called itself Flament Nagel aka the Flaming Nail, or the Sanguine Gale. I'll still be referring to him as Paracelsus at this point in time though.

Now magical foci start off simple-minded, only repeating small word fragments, and evolve over time to become more intelligent and sapient. At this point, young Paracelsus was a demon axe who had just gained sentience on that battlefield. Hot-headed and hungry for blood, and wanting to prove his combat superiority, he challenged Slayer and got curb stomped. Slayer was disappointed in how primitive Paracelsus still was in mind and soul, so he left him there to rust.

However eventually, Paracelsus was picked up from that battlefield and was sent to the alchemist Paracelsus, creator of A.B.A. We don’t know if the alchemist knew what the demon axe was, or whether he even requested him specifically for research. But the alchemist ultimately didn’t let Paracelsus out, not letting him take control over him and hiding him somewhere in the depths of his mansion.

(Inaccurate information removed, updating with A.B.A.'s JP GG World entry from XRD)

It would be after A.B.A.’s 10 year long isolation that she decided for reasons unknown, to leave the mansion and explore the outside world. By pure chance, she comes across Paracelsus, who because kinda resembled a key, she immediately picked up and she fell in love with him and decided they were married from then on.

Becoming her key

It's always been known that Paracelsus has some form of empathic abilities, and that he could tell that A.B.A. was fixated on keys and assumed the shape of a giant key to entice her to wield him. This was also the first ‘manipulation’ that Paracelsus admitted he had done to A.B.A. during their heart-to-heart talk.

It’s been further clarified in this recent interview, that it wasn’t so much Paracelsus deliberately taking the form of a key to attract ABA, but because ABA had been so heavily fixated on keys that she saw Paracelsus as a key straight away. That image she had of him as a key seemed to immediately imprint itself on him the moment she touched him, because of his true nature as “an axe (that) transforms into the owner’s image” of what his wielder wants him to be.

Slayer actually did mention this was likely the case over 20 IRL years ago in the audio drama CD, when he observed Paracelsus behaviour with A.B.A. in their second encounter.

Because A.B.A. never sees Paracelsus as a weapon, Paracelsus began to change to fit her ideal of what she saw him as, to become something more than just a weapon, and allowing Paracelsus to truly change and evolve physically and emotionally.

It’s important to note, Paracelsus isn’t bound to his wielder, and he doesn’t HAVE to allow this to happen either. Despite being dragged around by A.B.A. and acting like he has no autonomy; he actually has all the power to stop her from the start.

As Slayer notes, Para still has the power to completely take over A.B.A. 's mind and force her to do what he wants if he is truly unhappy. However he has never even threatened A.B.A. with this ability, and if not for Slayer knowing his past, no one would know Paracelsus actually can do this.

Whether consciously or subconsciously, Para was becoming more than just a demon axe from the moment he met A.B.A., and in his heart of hearts, he was begrudgingly accepting of his then situation-ship with her.

Fast forward to STRIVE and it's shown that he still continues to evolve to fulfill her 'vision' of what he is. When described as becoming more key-like, it's more obvious when you place both his old and new design side-by-side.

Notably, the blade part of his axe form has gotten smaller by STRIVE, just as he has sworn off violence and bloodshed by STRIVE.

It's even shown in how A.B.A. wields him., especially when Para partially possess or influences A.B.A. in his Muroha mode in the old games (mechanically this is the Jealous Mode in STRIVE). A.B.A. would wield him like a proper 'axe' blade-first in XX/ACCENT CORE. In STRIVE, since A.B.A. is now the dominant one in Jealous Rage mode, she doesn't wield him like an axe and now wields him by...bashing his head into people.

(Also I'll be going over the in-game animations and what they convey in a future post, don't you worry! You can view the comparison compilation here first.)

This even is shown in how A.B.A. uses Paracelsus as an actual key in her Overdrive "Keeper of the Key", which is a new move for her.

If we go further, I have speculated in this semi-crack theory that due to A.B.A. also interjecting her ideal of Paracelsus being her spouse over the years, that him actually 'reacting' to her advances now could also be an example of his evolution.

Even if he's trying REAL hard not to.

Hope this was an enjoyable read, let me know if you have any suggestions for improving readability or other stuff. Feel free to ask me questions through the inbox in the mean time that I'm working on the next part.

The next part is going to be analyzing and comparing Paracelsus' XX/ACCENT CORE Muroha mode to STRIVE's Jealous Rage mode, which has quite a bit of detail from comparing their effects on A.B.A. in in-game sprites/animations, plus how it reflects on the change in their power dynamics between games.

Edit: Part 2 available here

[fangsandfeels]

I think what is not mentioned in the Rite of Ascension dilemma is that it's certainly not the only way for a vampire to walk in daylight. The Rite was the way for a vampire to have it all at once, with a cherry on top - which is why it took a devil and 7000 souls to arrange.

For instance, the Cloak of Dragomir, which canonically exists in the in-game universe and allows vampires to walk in sunlight, also nerfs them, removing their vampire strength and bringing them on the same level as mortals. It was the reason why the original owner and commissioner, the vampire lord Dragomir, was furious with the result. He didn't want just to stroll in the light of day; he wanted to dominate everyone in the light of day. He could no longer enjoy simple things; he was obsessed with cultivating more power, and the cloak failed to assist him with that purpose.

So, there are certainly ways and methods. They aren't "good enough" for vampire lords because vampire lords don't want to just take a walk in the city in the light of day; they want to conquer cities without having to fear the sunlight.

However, such methods would be more than enough for one dashing vampire spawn rogue who simply likes to bask in the sun.

Additionally, from what I learned by combing through DnD forums, it is possible that spells and artifacts that protect vampires from sunlight do exist, but any vampire lord who owns those would keep them a secret. After all, they don't want their advantage stolen or compromised by their vampire competitors or adventurers.

Finally, while such an artifact or a spell may not be found in ancient books or texts, but they can be commissioned from a knowing master of arcane arts or an artificer. It's not easy, but and would cost a fortune, but it's possible.

[circeyoru]

Sleeping Romance = Requested

[Alastor x Tired Sleepy!Reader]

The Request

You were a hazard to Alastor. A hazard to his heart. You honestly remind him he’s still ‘normal’ at the end of the day with your tiredness and for that, he doesn’t know if he’s grateful for it or terrified of it

You were an old demon, nearly as old as Zestial and boi. You don’t even have a presence. Like you can naturally scare someone without trying. Not really, you were just in that spot and fell asleep then when you woke up, there was some demon near you and you talked

“Oh sh*t! It’s The Slumber Demon!”

“Run for your life!”

Yeah, no idea how you got your title or what you did. You didn’t even bother to know. All you knew was that Zestial offered you his place and you were happily sleeping in a coffin that made you feel like you were a vampire

Oh, you found out what you did. While sleeping, you lulled others to sleep and got a hold of their souls, you devoured them in your sleep, body and soul. You were wondering why you were never hungry when you got woke before resting at Zestial’s place. Oh, Zestial was also battling against your powers when you slept. Oops. You chased Zestial out of his own home and he went to Camilla

Anyways. It might be because you were aware of your surroundings that you woke up to Alastor’s broadcast of the fall of Overlords and his rise to power. You’d find yourself listening in on the broadcast and lateron falling asleep but woke up later on and still the broadcast was on

Needless to say, you made the effort to go the the sight to see for yourself the destruction Alastor was causing to the streets of Hell. You were quite glad that you had no territory of your own since you couldn’t be bothered with managing one and with more demons to ‘care’ for. You were too sleepy to do so

Your meeting with Alastor? Well, can you even call it one. When you made it to the place, you soon fell asleep from tiredness and your powers acted up again, merely as a defensive mechanism and to gain more power for yourself. Alastor sensed it, sensed an odd ball of power near him. To him, he was positive this was another easy prey to take as his own

How wrong was he. If he didn’t try to devour you or put you into his broadcast, then he would have saved himself from losing that ‘winning streak’, cause you were the one getting stronger without you doing anything! You should have seen the shock on his face. He left you alone soon after

But you kept coming back. When he sense you near, he would leave the area. It was like hide and seek. Not really, since his broadcast and the trail of carnage he left behind was enough to lead you to him. That and Carmilla was kind enough to point you in his direction

Your little following was what brought Alastor to Rosie. The lovely auntie was amused that you had taken some form of interest in a soul that you were not sleeping (all the time). Then there was Alastor being a cannibal, so he fit right in. One reason or another, you rarely go into Cannibal Town, almost never when he was there. So he thought he found your weakness

Just when he thought he could take over Cannibal Town to avoid you in his path, Rosie showed herself and defended her town elegantly. There was a truce between the two and Rosie shared that it was because you meant no harm to her people and didn’t want to accidently hurt them when you fell asleep, that’s why you’d never frequent Cannibal Town

Either way, Alastor saw it as a win because it was like you were fighting with him to gain more power. Sadly, no one knew you were actually curious about Alastor that you followed him around. So no one could help you with this misunderstanding

Ah, Carmilla and Zestial is helping! They arranged for an Overlord meeting. All Overlords are expected to attend. Naturally, you and Alastor showed up. To surprise Alastor even more was that you were one and one of the ancient ones that were feared. It was not odd to see you falling asleep during the meeting though, yet here, you didn’t try to fight and you were just sleeping

Alastor watched with interest when Zestial pulled your chair closer to him and use his cloak to cover you while Carmilla had soften her voice and even Rosie used her umbrella to cover you from the lighting. You were very protected and cared for it would seem

It wasn’t long before he found himself caring for you as well. He noticed, the closer the two of you were with each other, the less likely you’d be trying to fight or steal energy from anything around you

Plus you seemed to have a nack for genuineness. Why he sees that is because whenever he approaches you with the intent to use your connections or to try and rope you into a deal, you’d be very very passive-aggressive with him, even worse when you fell asleep. Yet then he doesn’t (he only realizes when he has time alone to think), you were like a sleeping doe

Poor Alastor was in such denial for caring about you in a good and healthy manner. He even asked Zestial and Rosie (never Carmilla) about their relationship with you. To which both claimed that you had this aura about you that made them put their attention and care towards you, not that you even use it for any purpose. That’s why they were attracted to you, you were pure and innocent

That’s why he was attracted to you. Believe him, the two of you would have been long in a relationship if it weren’t for his denial and mostly your sleepiness. Every single time, you fell asleep midway his proposal or any plans to romantically set up the mood, he set the mood for your perfect slumber was what he did

“My sweetheart, will you do me— Wait! Don’t sleep yet!”

He lost count of how many times it happened. He was patient with you since that was your charm, he thought you’d be well rested after some time. Nope. You were just sleepy all the time. ALL THE TIME. If Sinner could go to other rings, he knew you’d be in Sloth. He jump the gun when Vox tried getting you to join him or his group, promising a perfect sleeping quarters for you

“Darling! You stole my heart and you should be held accountable for it!” Alastor exclaimed, not caring that there was no built up, not caring that there were eyes around, not caring that it was the ‘right’ time as he’d like

Never had you been so energized from that statement alone. You went over to Alastor and kissed him, he hugged you and kissed back. It was a moment the two of you treasured and felt like you were on cloud 9

“Hey! I was trying—” Never had you turned to a demon with such rage as you directly used your powers against Vox for interrupting your moment. Boy were you terrifying. You launched forward, pouncing onto Vox and tearing him to shreds. Too bad demons would respawn after some time, unless it was an angelic weapon that did the deed

Alastor fell for you again

Taking advantage of your energy and the electric energy you got from Vox’s entire being. You were in the mood to have some fun. Alastor had so much plans for you, “Let’s revisit our romantic spots.”

“We had romantic spots? And we went there before?”

“Hahaha, oh my dearest, you fell asleep on me!”

Note: I think the ending was a bit different than when I first started writing, but I can't seem to remember what it was before...

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@aconfusedwonderland

@crowleysthings

@donustellaron

[starrierknight]

𝟎𝟐𝟓. 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬

“Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling, and Domine non sum dignus should be on the lips and in the hearts of those who receive it.” ― Oscar Wilde, De Profundis

MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER 23' | AO3

wc— 5k

pairing— vampire slayer!dom!gn!reader x vampire!sub!gojo

cws/tags— enemies to enemies w/ benefits, S&M, predator/prey dynamic, knifeplay, bloodplay, blood as an aphrodisiac, heavy degradation (+use of “slut”), humiliation, biting & marking, oral + fingering (reader receiving), reader has AFAB anatomy but isn’t gendered, dry humping, hairpulling, inaccurate vampire lore, porn w/ plot, porn w/ (angsty) feelings, very description heavy

The passage of time had led you to this decisive moment. There he kneeled, ensnared by the circumstance of your bait, his once confident demeanour reduced to vulnerability. Wide-eyed and labouring breaths betrayed his desperation, his pale chest heaving under that billowing white shirt. 

You stood tall, your gaze an icy lance that pierced through the layers of cunning that once cloaked this despicable being. A vampire, an embodiment of the dark myths that have haunted humanity for centuries. In the story of your seasoned exploits, the ones you’d slain had been unfathomable monsters, grotesque aberrations. The raw power that you expected to emanate from a monster so ancient, so sinister, seemed to have dulled into something strangely human. His aura of malevolence was overshadowed by a pitiable aura of need. The haunting question dawned on the precipice of your thoughts: Could it be that even the darkest of beings can yearn, can ache for something beyond their cursed existence?

The tableau is one of stark contrasts—the resolute hunter and the feeble prey, the chilling void of the night and the warmth of desperate need. The air remained unbroken: You, the embodiment of unyielding purpose, and he, an enigma knelt before you, leaving the promise of revelation in his desperate, longing gaze.

The monster before you took on a hauntingly primal quality. A languid, serpentine motion as his tongue darted out, collecting the remnants of blood, your blood, that clung to his lips. The taste, metallic and potent as you knew it to be, was like the sweetest nectar to him. A guttural groan escaped his parted lips, a sound laden with both pleasure and pain; The very act of an existence marked by unending darkness and insatiable hunger. With deliberate slowness, his eyes shuttered closed, a brief surrender of ecstasy. His lashes casted long shadows against his pale, parchment-like skin. 

“Speak, monster,” you said in a cool, steady tone.

Time seemed to expand and contract, a canvas stretched taut, as he eventually broke the stillness.

“Oh, come on. Why the formalities?” he taunted in an airy whisper, a smug lilt to his tone. “Don’t you think we’re past that?”

His eyelids parted, revealing pupils dilated to a darkness. Those eyes, a chromatic anomaly amidst the desolation of his existence, were a cerulean that defied nature's palette. They were too blue, too vivid—a celestial fragment from the vast expanse of the heavens that had fallen into his wretched possession. 

“Tell me your name before I slay you tonight,” you spat, your will unwavering.

His eyes drank you in with an uncanny hunger. “Gojo Satoru. Though, please, Satoru will do just fine.”

You tilted your head to one side, leaning down to inspect him with morbid fascination. He was disturbingly beautiful: Far too angelic in appearance, though you supposed it was a façade to lure in his prey. How ironic.

“Gojo Satoru,” you murmured, still inspecting him. Satoru shuddered at the way his name fell from your mouth, and he groaned again. “That’s a very human name, unfit for you… Though it’s your vampiric desperation that got you here, isn’t it?”

Satoru's response sliced through the charged atmosphere like a serrated blade. His lips parted in a breathy exhalation that transformed into a rueful laugh, a delicate sound that danced in the air. The corners of his mouth quirked into a crooked smile, a wry look that exposed his pointed fangs. 

“Was it yours, by the way?”

“The blood?”

“The blood. The blood in the chalice—that bait you left for me. Was it yours? Did you… alter it?”

You frowned and raised a brow. Instinctively, your hand moved to your belt, where your weapon of choice rested. The scabbard relinquished its hold with a whisper of leather, allowing the ornate silver dagger to emerge into the moonlit room. Your fingers curled around the hilt, finding solace in the familiarity of its weight. 

“Your final moments are rapidly approaching, and you question my methods for luring you here?” you asked bemusedly.

Satoru shrugged one shoulder, but his eyes snapped to focus on the blade. “I’m just making friendly conversation.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No,” he laughed again, hunger flashing in his eyes, “I’m not. Tell me, though.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “It’s mine. Unaltered.”

Satoru's throat bobbed visibly as he swallowed, the sound resonating. He took a deep breath. “So, you just taste… like that, do you?”

“Like ‘that’?”

“Just so… sweet. Humans aren’t usually so sweet,” he clarified.

With a fluid motion, you idly twirled the dagger through the air. The blade's polished surface caught the moon's glow, transforming its silvery sheen into an almost-blue hue, the ornate dagger an extension of your intent. The blade's tip, sharpened to a lethal point, found its mark with an almost imperceptible pressure against Satoru's skin.

The chill of the metal against his neck was a stark contrast to the warmth that radiated from his body. The sensation was immediate, a jolt of icy reality that underscored the gravity of your confrontation. His breath hitched, his pupils dilated more, the pulse of his veins thundering in tandem with the rhythm of his twisted excitement. 

“You disgust me,” you hissed, pressing the blade to his neck so that it was perilously close to breaking his skin.

The whine that escaped his lips was involuntary, a mixture of pain and desire that reverberated through the charged air. It was a reminder that his existence, no matter how abhorrent, was still woven with threads of need and yearning. He pressed closer to the flat of the blade—the dichotomy of his action hauntingly human. The cold metal met the feverish heat of his pale skin, his lips parted as he breathed heavily.

“Please,” the longing etched into his contorted expression spoke of desire both primal and inexplicable. “One last request before it’s over. Please.”

“You think you deserve a last request?” you challenged, eyes narrowed with scrutiny.

Satoru moistened his lips, eyes darting from you to around the room as he scrambled to provide you with an answer to your question. The room, with its moonlit corners and shadows, seemed to close in, the walls serving as both witnesses and silent participants in this exchange between hunter and hunted, captor and captive. The request that followed was both shocking and strangely intimate:

“I was human, once,” he began, “I wanted a good death for myself, once. Please, give me a shred of humanity to die with. Please, let me taste you before you kill me.”

It's a collision of desires—a yearning for connection, for a glimpse of the humanity he once possessed, and the chilling reminder of his vampiric nature.

You laughed coldly, sneering down at him. “And humanity is blood, is it?”

“Please.”

Jutting your chin out, your gaze seared downward. The intensity of your stare, unyielding and incisive, spoke of your unwavering resolve in the face of his plea. The retraction of the dagger was a calculated move—an action that rippled with implications.

As the blade sliced across the palm of your hand, your own blood welled forth, a crimson testament to your commitment to the path you'd chosen. The sting was a reminder of the sacrifices you were willing to make, and the offering of the blade, now smeared with your blood, was a bridge.

His reaction was immediate and visceral. The scent of your blood, intoxicatingly sweet to his heightened senses, seemed to fill the room; A siren's call. Satoru’s breathing grew heavy. His eyes locked onto the vivid liquid, reflecting a hunger that surpassed all others.

“Have your taste before I slaughter you, Satoru.”

As if drawn by an irresistible force, Satoru's compliance was immediate and unquestioning. As his tongue darted out to lick the smeared blood from the flat of the blade, the room seemed to hold its breath, a voyeur to this intimate ritual between predator and prey. The metallic glint of your blood met his tongue with an electric charge, a connection that transcended what he thought he had centuries of damned experience with. The blood's influence, as it coursed through the currents of his veins, was immediate and potent. 

The sweet nature of your blood sparked an undeniable fire within Satoru; A desire, once lurking in the shadows, that now surged to the forefront of his consciousness. The echoes of his moans, the rise and fall of his uneven breaths, served as evidence of the pure need he experienced. 

“You really are the most repulsive thing I’ve ever seen,” you muttered, regarding him with sickly interest. Satoru's gaze—those magnificently blue eyes, like pools of sapphire—rose from the blade, still in his kneeling position, to meet yours. 

“That was hardly a taste,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Your indignant silence was punctuated by the steady rhythm of dripping blood. Drip-drip-drip. You felt the warmth from the gash on your non-dominant hand curl around your fingers, falling with resonance onto the aged wooden floorboards. Drip-drip-drip. As your gaze swept across the space, the play of light and shadow painted the scene. Your attention fell upon a solitary chair nestled in the corner.

Without uttering a single word, your injured hand lifted and extended, your blood-stained fingers pointing with stark clarity towards the chair. Drip-drip. The gesture was a directive, an invitation, an unspoken promise. Satoru, his towering presence marked by the contrast of moonlight and shadows, heeded the call of your gesture. With a deliberate grace, he approached the chair, the sound of its legs scraping against the wooden floor, the very air itself holding its breath.

The surprise that unfurled within you was mirrored by the unexpected turn of events. As he dragged the chair closer, your pulse quickened, and you sat. Then, in a gesture that defied your expectations, he knelt before you once more, his handsome expression a mixture of reverence, his own expectation, his own unrivalled desire.

“You deserve less than I’m giving you,” you said lowly, “But enjoy yourself while you can.”

You extended your injured hand, the delicate appendage still weeping ruby-red tears. Satoru responded instinctively, cradling your wounded palm in his larger hands, their touch exuding a profound gentleness. As if guided by an innate sense of care, he brought your bloodied offering to his face, a visage that seemed both ravenous and reverent. The moment his tongue made contact with the open wound, a jolt of sensation shot through your body. The taste of your blood, infused with the sweet essence of your very being, flooded his senses. His eyes, once fixed on you, now fluttered closed, and a euphoric expression painted his features. As if overwhelmed by a wave of intense pleasure, his eyelids fluttered, and his irises seemed to lose focus, rolling upwards.

The world around Satoru seemed to dim, his focus narrowing to the essence that flowed from your wound. Each taste, each drop, acted like a potent aphrodisiac, igniting a fire that blazed within him. His body responded with a tremor, his pale hands involuntarily tightening their hold on your injured palm. His muffled groans, now a mixture of raw need and aching restraint, reverberated through your body.

Satoru’s soft, warm mouth enveloped the open wound, a fervent kiss that drew forth the crimson nectar. As he sucked on the source of this intoxicating sweetness, rivulets of blood painted intricate patterns on his lower face, a macabre, and yet strangely artistic, display. Despite his immense presence, he remained on his knees before your chair, his powerful form now a portrait of vulnerability. Satoru’s head, heavy with the weight of his longing, found its place on your lap, a gesture that radiated a delicate surrender. His silvery hair, like silk against your legs, contrasted starkly with the increasingly depraved display.

“You really are vile,” you breathed, the sting from the wound shooting up your arm.

Your grip on the dagger in your dominant hand tightened instinctively, and a mixture of apprehension and curiosity coursed through you as his tongue lapped at your skin. Your senses keenly caught the subtle shifts in his body language, the telltale signs of his arousal and need. The feeling of his fingers tightening around your wounded hand, his thighs pressing and rubbing with a rhythmic urgency—a plea for something unattainable yet relentlessly craved.

With a languid grace, he shifted his kneeling position, his body settling. As if guided by some unseen force, he positioned himself so that he was seated on one of your boots. His head found its resting place on your thigh, and his mouth maintained its fervent dance upon your hand—his lips and tongue slid over your skin, causing a paradoxical sensation of tension and pleasure that set your nerves alight.

His body responded to the all-encompassing craving that had engulfed him with a feverish urgency. The torrent of desire coursing through him could no longer be suppressed, and his body moved of its own accord. In a desperate bid for release, he pressed his hard-on against your boot, the friction providing a fleeting respite from the intensity that consumed him. Desperate moans, heavy with frustration, escaped him, the sound an unbridled testament to the intensity of the moment.

Finally, his fangs sank into the tender palm of your hand with a swift, hypnotic movement. The moment his fangs pierced your skin, a rush of sensations cascaded through you and a gasp, half surprise and half excitement, tumbled from your lips. The pressure of his bite, a fierce declaration of his need, sent shockwaves through your body. 

"Did I say you could bite?" you hissed through gritted teeth. 

With a decisiveness born of instinct, your dominant hand moved with purpose. The edge of the dagger's blade found its place against the vulnerable curve of his neck, pressing into his pale skin as his own blood, darker and more tainted than yours, seeped onto the cool metal.

Satoru’s eyes fluttered open, looking at you with a desperate apology. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. Forgive me, please…” 

His lips sought redemption in a sequence of fervent kisses. They trailed across the delicate skin of your wrist, your knuckles, and the tips of your fingers. The gesture, if not for the lingering urgency of his movements, would have held a sweet tenderness, an attempt to mend what had been broken. Amid this tangled web of feelings, the grinding of his arousal against you persisted, a relentless echo of his desire. The moans that escaped him seemed to punctuate each kiss, a wretched symphony of need.

“You’re fucking pathetic. You should see yourself right now,” you scolded, “On your knees for me, grinding against my leg like a fucking feral animal.”

His body moved with a desperate rhythm, a primal need guiding his every motion. With each rutted thrust, he sought an elusive release, a respite from the smouldering longing between his thighs. His movements were fueled by a frenetic energy, his hips surging upward in a rhythm that spoke of desperation and longing. The dagger's lethal caress against his neck seemed only to further stoke the fire within him.

Gasping for air, Satoru’s breaths came in ragged intervals, but amidst the tumult, a single word slipped past his lips—a plea heavy with need. "Please."

“Please what? What are you even begging for, slut?” You laughed at him. “You wanna taste some more? You wanna cum for me?”

“Fuck, please… I need you… I need you so badly, please,” he whined, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes, his head still resting on your thigh.

“You want more? More blood?”

“Y-yes, but… more you. I just, fuck… Need more of you,” he panted.

The sound of his own confession served as a catalyst, the final thread that unravelled his restraint. With a loud and unfiltered moan, Satoru fell apart on his knees before you. His hips jerked against you with a frantic urgency as he whimpered. The tension that had been building, coil by coil, snapped like a taut band, releasing a flood of euphoria that consumed him entirely. At that moment, there was no room for thought, only the unadulterated pleasure that surged through his veins. The pleasure, a heady mix of physical release and emotional surrender, overtook his senses, rendering his mind blank and his body malleable under its power. His mouth parted in a silent exhalation of bliss, boring witness to the depth of his pleasure. 

Even in the aftermath of his release, his body continued to move in a slow, rhythmic grind against you as the aftershocks of cumming reverberated through him. The room seemed to shimmer with the echoes of his moans.

Your bloody fingers laced into his silky, white hair. With a firm tug, you lifted his head, his body draped across your leg in surrender to the aftermath of his climax. The tip of the dagger's blade traced a deliberate path along his jaw; The steel's cool touch acted as a focal point, drawing his attention to you in his post-orgasm daze. The sensation pierced through the fog of pleasure, reorienting him.

“Vampires are supposed to be scary, Satoru. Where’s the beast I came to slaughter tonight?” you taunted, a lopsided grin splitting your features. Caressing his face with the flat of the dagger’s blade in your dominant hand, your grip on his hair tightened—he winced and whined in pain, much to your satisfaction.

“I’m… I-I am still a monster,” he mumbled in weak protest. “I’m still a monster, even if I need you… Oh, God, how I need you…” 

His white, billowing shirt, once pristine, now clung to his skin with a sheen of sweat. The fabric, once airy and light, had transformed into a second skin, moulded to the contours of his form by the heat of his actions. The shirt, rendered translucent by the moisture, hinted at the contours beneath—the rise and fall of his chest, the sculpted lines of his handsome body.

"You're a fucking mess, y'know that? A mess so pathetic, it's disgusting," you remarked, your voice a mixture of exasperation and a touch of distant amusement. 

Just before he could retort, you acted swiftly, clapping your injured hand over his mouth. The surprise on his face was palpable, a mix of alarm and intrigue as he found his voice silenced. The sensation of your touch against his lips seemed to ignite a response within him, a mixture of surprise and a familiar yearning. Despite the unexpectedness of the action, his instincts seemed to guide him. His tongue, quick and warm, darted out to taste your blood once more. A groan escaped his lips. His body responded with a shudder, a ripple of pleasure that coursed through his frame.

“Dumb fucking slut,” you laughed quietly. “I’ve been so good to you, and you’re talking back. I’ll teach you manners before I slay you tonight.”

A muffled moan, laden with a mixture of need and surrender, escaped from behind your bloody palm that covered his mouth. The sound seemed to hang in the air. His gaze, fixed upon you with half-lidded eyes, held a certain vulnerability. You leaned in closer, your proximity a tantalizing promise. His half-lidded gaze met yours.

"You need to taste me? Let's see how badly." 

The words held a challenge, a daring invitation. The proximity between your lips, the touch of your hand against his skin, the dangerous lilt to your voice—it made him crave so much that he ached for you. Satoru's back arched like a bowstring, his head tilting back slightly as he let out a small, soft moan. You removed your hand from his mouth and retracted the dagger’s blade that had been held against his neck. 

In a frenzy born of unbridled desire, Satoru's actions took on a new urgency. His hands, no longer restrained by inhibition, sought purchase against the buttons on your trousers. Fingers that trembled with need fumbled against the fabric, the movements driven by a hunger that consumed him entirely. Each button undone marked a step closer to a line crossed, and the air crackled with the intensity of his actions.

With your trousers discarded, his hands found their place on your bare thighs, his touch both tentative and determined. He shifted between your legs, his form kneeling before you while you remained seated in the chair. His positioning spoke of a certain vulnerability, a submission he had adopted in your presence. His hands traced a path across the expanse of your bare skin, a map of desire that unfolded beneath his touch. Beginning at the inside of your knee, his movements were deliberate and unhurried, a slow exploration of the terrain he now navigated.

“Thank you… Oh, thank you, I need this so badly,” he murmured.

Your breathing had grown laboured, a lazy smile tugging at your lips as you watched. “You’re so desperate, aren’t you?”

“Yes. God, yes, please… I just need you,” Satoru whispered.

The dagger in your dominant hand clattered to the floor, and both of your hands took root in his white hair instead. The sensation of your hands in Satoru’s hair seemed to awaken a primal response, his body shivering and trembling beneath your touch. His closeness, his lips against your skin, painted a vivid picture of his passion. His kisses, once deliberate and slow, had transformed into something more. They were now passionate, desperate—an unfiltered expression lust.

His mouth moved with an animalistic need, tracing a fiery path up your thigh. The pressure of his fingers, his grip bordering on painful, mirrored the urgency that had taken hold of him. The threat of his fangs grazed against your sensitive skin, and your hands gripped his hair harder. Satoru was lost in the sensations that pulsed through him, his body a vessel for the consuming ecstasy that had taken hold. His lips, once soft and reverent, were now a reflection of his unfiltered need—a need that was unashamedly on display, stripped of all pretence.

As his jaw moved against your skin, the strength of his bite left indelible marks, and the lines between pleasure and pain blurred to become one. The room echoed with his cries, each whine and moan a declaration of his longing. Your name, a desperate refrain, punctuated his every sound, the syllables a litany of desire. Saliva glistened on your thigh as his teeth left behind a trail of marks and bruises. His grip on your thighs, unyielding and possessive, held you captive. The drool that trailed down his chin, mingling with his moans, was a visual testament to the intensity of his lust. The sound of his needy moans, louder than ever before, echoed in the air. His teeth digging deeper into your skin were causing bleeding that added to the pleasure.

You let out a sharp exhale, the sound escaping through clenched teeth, your body reacting to the dual sensations. A low groan followed, a mixture of discomfort and an unexpected yearning, escaping from deep within you. Your hips, an unconscious reaction to the intimate contact, shifted towards him—a movement that made him whine needily. The warmth of his tongue against your skin, the wetness that traced the path of the blood and saliva, painted a vivid picture of your shared bloodlust.

"God, I want you so bad... So bad. Oh, please... Please... Don't hold back... Let yourself have me... Let yourself have me..." the words were a broken mantra that emerged from his lips, the syllables heavy with longing.

“H-Have you?” you groaned.

His bites became harsher, leaving even deeper marks in your flesh. But your moans were having the opposite effect, driving him closer to that sweet insanity. 

"Oh, God... Please, please... Please..." he begged in a fractured voice.

As his tongue swept over the wounds he had created, an intense heat spread across your skin, merging with the dampness of the blood that trickled forth. Iron lingered in the air, mingling with the primal scent of exertion and urgency. With an unyielding grip, his fingers clenched around your thighs, the strength of his hold leaving imprints. Your senses wavered between the stinging sensation where his nails dug into your flesh and the surreal touch of his mouth at work.

With firm urgency, you guided his face to your cunt, an unspoken directive that he obeyed without hesitation. As your fingers threaded through his hair, a mixture of tugs and pulls that mirrored the ebb and flow of your need, his name escaped your lips like a prayer. In response, a resonant moan spilt from his lips, a reflection of your name, as if he were returning your prayer in kind. Completely at your mercy, his obedience was an unspoken offering, his face moving to kiss the softest skin of your inner thighs. 

Satoru’s breath was hot enough that you could feel him breathe against you, as if the fabric of your underwear was a mere afterthought. Inhaling through his nose, the combined sent of your blood, and your arousal pooling between your thighs, made his eyes shutter closed, moaning. His fingers quivered with anticipation, his nails scratching your thighs as he licked a flat, broad stripe across your clothed pussy. He tilted his head and rhythmically moved his lips against you so the fabric was soaked with your wetness and his spit. Oh, how he yearned to taste everything you would offer him, making it run down your thighs just so he could lap it up.

His mouth became a haven of sensations, each deliberate nudge of his nose against your clit igniting a cascade of sparks that danced along your nerve endings. The friction created by his touch caused a cascade of moans to spill from your lips. His devotion was palpable in the way he knelt before you, an embodiment of desire and submission that bordered on divine: His open mouth, his cheeks rosy, his eyes sealed shut in a state of blissful surrender. 

“Fuck, maybe there’s a use f-for you, after all,” you murmured.

One of his hands slid your underwear out of the way. The moment hung in suspended animation, a pause that held as he halted his other movements to marvel at you. The vision before him was a masterpiece; You were a masterpiece.

Satoru’s long, pretty fingers dipped between your folds, sliding through the velvety slickness, before bringing his fingers to his mouth and cleaning them. He whined praise at the taste, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes that shined with reverence. His eyes, those pools of cool blue, met yours in a gaze that transcended words, brimming reverence that could only be equated to worship. 

He carefully pushed a finger inside you, looking up at you hungrily as he felt your walls hugging the digit. Your breath trembled and hitched, a shaky exhale escaping your lips as you indulged in the feeling—a primal yearning that coiled hotly like a serpent in your abdomen. With steadfast devotion, he turned his attention to your sensitivity, his mouth finding purchase on your clit. The skilled wetness of his tongue traced deliberate circles around the tender bundle of nerves, each flicker of contact a jolt of sensation that reverberated through your core. A plaintive whine emerged from him, the vibration a tantalising echo that melded with your own moans.

Another finger joined the first, the slow glide in and out of your depths accompanied by a lust that seemed to resonate through your entire being. Your body responded, a silent plea that spurred his rhythm, the pumping of his fingers sending shockwaves of heat rippling through you.

Satoru's presence in the moment was visceral, his desire manifesting audibly as he pressed his face against your dripping centre. The noises that escaped his lips, a cascade of moans and whimpers, melded with the wet sounds of your shared pleasure. His fingers were adept, plunging into your pussy with a rhythmic thrust that strummed a chord deep within your core. With each push, his fingers curved and curled, a deliberate manipulation that seemed to coax the most exquisite sensations from your body. The taste of you, an intoxicating blend of your essence and arousal, consumed him wholly. His gaze, though hazy, still found you, his pretty eyes locking onto yours with lustful adoration.

You came undone on his fingers with a moan of his name, his mouth was flooded with the taste of you, as his fingers, slick with the evidence of your ecstasy, bore witness to your release. Your nails dragged against his scalp deliciously, twisting his soft hair, inciting a drawn-out groan from deep within him. He kept you riding that high, guiding you through the bliss he had manipulated. Your body was tingling all over, waves of pleasure radiating through you as you gasped. Every drop of cum, every trace of your arousal, became an offering that he ardently consumed, letting no taste of you go unadored.

As he finally withdrew his fingers, the absence was palpable, but his attention didn't waver; Instead, it shifted to a new focus. Your thighs trembled, but his hands became gentle instruments of comfort and affection to soothe you. He massaged and caressed the tender skin, his lips following a path his fingers traced, each kiss a sweet tribute to you. The chorus of murmured gratitude that escaped his lips lingered in the heavy air as you caught your bearings. 

“Thank you, thank you… You taste so perfect, so perfect…” Satoru said, with his voice still broken and raspy from his intense moaning. "Thank you," he repeated, the phrase becoming a mantra. 

The timbre of his voice was a blend of vulnerability and sincerity, each utterance a token of his appreciation for you. The emotions that had coursed through him, the moans and gasps that had marked his need, seemed to linger in the remnants of his voice.

"Perfect," he continued, his words resonating with a kind of awe that transcended mere description. "Beyond sweet," he concluded.

You looked down upon him kneeling between your thighs, your hands still in his hair, with a mixture of awe and reluctance. Satoru, this enigmatic creature, had been laid bare before you. The dichotomy of his nature, of his humanity and his vampiric instincts, hung in the air like a question unanswered. What had you done to him?

“You can kill me now, and I’ll die human,” he murmured.

Though after sharing a little death with him, could you kill him?

a/n: I guess you could say he's your #1 fang... Buh-dump tch! LOL, I hope you enjoyed. Be grateful I didn't include Twilight refs, bc I was tempted to. Happy Kinktober, lovelies :3

this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

[separatist-apologist]

What are your favorite monster fics? I’ve read all of yours and you have left me craving it.

You can't go wrong with any of these, and they are also my personal favorites:

On Waves of Blue by @kingofsummer93 [elucien]

Elain is bored of her mind-numbingly dull life as Princess of Mushroom Kingdom. The only excitement she's ever known is the threat of the great fire-breathing King Koopa, intent on making her his bride.

Is it so wrong, then, that she doesn't fear his return?

To Tango With The Devil by @iambutmortal [feysand]

For two years, Feyre’s been obsessed with the demon statue in the church. It haunts her dreams, even on the eve of her wedding. To bad the statue’s just as obsessed with her.

Bow Down by @shadowisles-writes [elucien]

When one of Elain's rituals releases more magic than usual, a much bigger demon than what she has ever protected herself against comes to her door. No amount of hidden traps and talismans can protect her from what he wants to take.

My Heart of Stone by @c-e-d-dreamer [nessian]

“Why do you run from me, my mate?” the gargoyle asks, tilting his head and sending his dark hair cascading over one shoulder.

Nesta feels hysterical, fear rising like bile in the back of her throat, but somehow she’s able to choke out the words, “what did you just call me?”

Howl by @iftheshoef1tz [azris]

When Azriel suspects that werewolves are behind the disappearance of his brother, he turns to the only werewolf expert he knows. Unfortunately for Azriel, Eris might be the werewolf he's been looking for.

Smite My Enemies by @abraxos-and-ataraxia [nessian]

Nesta summons a creature to obliterate her enemies, but quickly finds another use for the demon that appears.

A Woman So Heartless by @velidewrites [nessian]

When the Goddess of the Underworld grants a mortal General an extended stay in the land of the living, she doesn’t expect him to come back with another deal — one she has no idea will ruin her life forever.

Bejeweled by @thesistersarcheron [feysand]

Every court has their own Great Rite with unique, ancient traditions. The Night Court’s priestesses have played coy with Rhysand since he inherited the throne last year about what imbuing the land with his power really means; all they tell him is that he is meant to spend the night in the Night Court’s mines dripping in ceremonial jewels while everyone else gets to attend the orgy without him.

He doesn’t expect to find Feyre, a faerie made of crystal who leads him on a chase deeper and deeper into the mines as the Rite’s magic overcomes him.

Meet Me In The Woods by @paranoidbagel [feysand]

Returning to the ancient forests surrounding his ancestral home in the Scottish highlands, Rhys quickly discovers how the hunter becomes the hunted when a bloodthirsty Scottish faerie turns her ravenous sights on him.

The Music of the Night by @the-lonelybarricade [feysand]

It's Feyre's first year as an elligible maiden for the village reaping. In order to escape the chance of being chosen, Feyre rushes into a marriage with Lord Tamlin. She is terrified on her wedding night, but foruntately she is spared from consumating her marriage when she is pulled into a strange, erotic dream with an enchanting creature.

Paint It Red by @moodymelanist [nessian]

Nesta Archeron has been thirsting for revenge against Tomas Mandray since a fatal encounter in November 1940. When he suddenly reappears decades later, she finally has the perfect opportunity to make him pay for what he’s done. Her only problem? She and her friends aren’t powerful enough to take Tomas and his lackeys down on their own…

Cassian Valladares is the deadliest vampire hunter Windhaven has seen in a generation. When Nesta approaches him with a plan to kill her ex-fiancé, he’s initially hesitant – he wants nothing to do with leeches, especially one who almost got him killed. But as the bodies start piling up, Cassian and his brothers are forced to reconsider…

Will Nesta and Cassian be able to put aside their differences long enough to work together? Or will they find themselves consumed by something else entirely?

Crow Song by @damedechance [gwynriel]

Three years ago, Gwyneth Berdara became the ward of the Night Institute, a band of hunters led by Rhysand who work to rid the world of vampires. After one fateful night where Gwyn unwittingly welcomes one such creature into their home, she strikes a deal with Azriel, one that is just as likely to condemn them as it is to save them.

What The Shadows Hide by @shadowsxgwynriel [gwynriel]

When Gwyn goes out on the night of Calanmai to search for a missing priestess, she’ll soon find out that something lurks in the shadows...

[spacebarbarianweird]

Hello) Playing with a high elf noble Tav right now and just thought... Astarion and Tav with a Noble background headcanons?

Noble Tav is an interesting choice! I will stick to Noble Tav \ any race, but, if you want Noble High Elf Tav, let me know in the asks! There are a lot of things to write about Tav, who is an Elven royalty.

And I also found there is a sub type of Noble Background called Noble Knight. Basically a member of the nobility, who chose a life of adventures and helping the less fortunate, which I also can write, if you send me a request.

Astarion x Noble!Tav

Masterlist

Headcanons

You were born to luxury and power, being a member of an ancient house whose lineage can be traced back to the first centuries of the Dawn of Humanity.

Will you choose the life of power? Or would you prefer to thrive on your ancestor’s legacy by simply having fun?

Since childhood, you’ve learned a lot about the history, culture, and politics of Faeurn.

You are intelligent, well-behaved, and hungry for power.

That’s why your family chose you to be sent to Baldur’s Gate to establish connections with local lords.

Baldur’s Gate looks like a dumpster to you - too loud, too dirty, too vulgar.

You receive the message that your mother has gone, and you have to return home to rule your lands.

But you are kidnapped by Mindflayers.

There is a positive side to being spoilt-rich from birth.

It’s the desire to live.

Being confident in your skills and luck, you not only manage to escape the inevitable death, but also embrace your legacy as a powerful leader.

You are going to be in charge, kick everyone’s asses and no god will bestow their will upon you.

But there is also a lesson of injustice, unfamiliar to you.

Your vampire lover and his horrible past.

You don’t believe he was a bad person.

And even if he was, he didn’t deserve this cruelty.

Besides, you see through his lies. He tries to look like a nobleman to you, with his mannerisms and habits.

But you know they are as fake as theatre decorations.

If anything, Astarion looks like a former slave trying to blend with his former owners but remaining inferior to the people of power.

Using your skills for diplomacy, you make a lot of allies - and you also think that an army of 7000 spawns is a very good dowry

What if you need them in the future?

You win and accept the title of the Baldur’s Gate hero.

Once Astarion starts burning in the sunlight, he runs away from you and you are afraid he will never come back

He does. But he wants to say goodbyes.

“Darling, I appreciate everything you‘ve done for me. But your future is without me. You are an heir, a fucking nobility. What will your people think about me being a vampire? What will your family think? They will either kill me or kill us both. Live your life, I won’t forget you.”

Before you manage to object, he disappears in the shadows again and you return home brokenhearted.

You feel lonely in your palace and helpless with things you have to do.

Laws to introduce, alliances to make, and shit to deal with.

But one day you wake up, feeling that someone is in your room.

Before you snatch your dagger, a cold hand shuts your mouth.

Astarion sits on your bed, wearing a traveller hunter suit.

“I missed you, love” he whispers, pinning you to bed.

You yell at him. You curse. You are actually so loud you wake up the guardians but when they rush into the room they get an order to treat Astarion as your guest.

You are still angry and you need time.

Astarion has a proposition. “Let’s run away! There is a world to see together. I am free but there isn’t much worth from it if I can’t share it with anybody”

You refuse. You have duties and you won’t abandon them.

You ask him to stay. To rule with you as your “dark consort”.

Besides, it’s always better to have a vampire of your own than having to deal with a vampire you don’t know.

First of all, you forge Astarion a noble ancestry. Anyway, mostly all of the ancient elven families left for the Isle of Evermeet a century ago, and it’s always possible to pretend to be one of them.

Then, you make a good excuse for his nocturnal lifestyle.

A curse. As ancient as your own house. Can’t go into the sunlight, very believable.

But you also offer a reward to anyone who will be able to bring you either a Sunwalker Ring or the Cloak of Dragomir.

Astarion helps you deal with the most difficult legal mess left to you by your ancestors.

He knows about such things much more than your court.

Astarion is your consort, your advisor, your right hand. He rules from shadows, meanwhile you shine in the sunlight.

Astarion enjoys this life of luxury to the extreme.

The best fabric for his clothes, the softest bedlinen, adornments you could buy a village with.

He is also very good at managing the palace - especially the dungeons below it, which hold thousands of secrets.

And Astarion often calls himself “your trophy husband”.

Well, he is. As the Baldur’s Gate savior, you returned empty-handed.

A beautiful prince is the least you could claim!

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui

[volturiprincess]

The Talk

Felix x Vampire reader

Summary: After centuries of being together, y/n and Felix want to take the next step Warnings: there is some slight mention of smut, but overall fluff  A/N: This is my first one-shot/imagine. I will try to start posting more often but I am currently in uni and my school work always comes first. I will take requests and I will do a whole  post of what I can do or I am willing to do in the future.( There will be a second A/N at the end of this.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🌹~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Ok but like why is he like this, I am obsessed with this man, its not even funny anymore)

There I was standing in between Demetri and Felix along with the twins in front of the kings, apparently there's a last minute mission and almost all of the elite guards are going, except me. I tried not to show my anger but it seems Marcus noticed and he spoke up

“My dear, what anger’s you?”

I felt Felix grab my hand for comfort and I said

“Why can't I go with them on the mission, master?”.

Before Marcus could respond Caius took over

“You equal our four guards present, we do not need as much force for this mission, if the mission does take a turn then we will send you but as of now you are needed here”

I nodded and squeezed Felix hand in reassurance that I am okay.

The thing with me is I am a collector (as Aro has called it), with a touch I can have the gift of the vampire I touch without fully taking away the other vampire's power. Which is what makes me so powerful and what makes me a valuable member of the Volturi elite guard, I have so many gifts from the many vampires I have encountered in the past centuries.

Another thing to my peculiarity is my mate is Felix, the executioner and the prize fighter of the Volturi. We met many centuries ago when the Volturi was forming and he was the new member and just like any mate story when I saw him I knew we were meant to be. He is my other half and my reason for being.

Soon after the instructions of the mission were explained to the guards, they were preparing to go, I was sitting on mine and Felix’s bed watching him pack. This was something I have not grown used to even after the countless missions we would have to go separately, I hated being separated from him but duty calls.

Eventually he's in front of me on his knees since he is so tall and I'm really short, looking into my eyes. I rest my hands on his broad shoulders and said

“Even after centuries of countless missions, this is the one part I hate about them the most, being separated from you”

He gave me a small smile and grabbed my hand and gave it a gentle kiss with saying

“I know cara mia, it is never easy but I have no choice, but you know i'll be back before you know it” 

I nod and pulled the same hand that is holding mine and gave it a small kiss, I gave him a smirk and said

“And when you come back we can have our fair share of fun”

I winked and he smirked in return

“Exactly mia amore”

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him onto a hug. He wrapped his large arms around me in return and I smiled. We soon pulled away and he stood up, bringing me up with him and kissed me and then left for the mission.

_____________________________________________________________

Its been a month without Felix and its pure torture without him, there have been a number of trials I have been in and they all end up with me killing them in a second. Currently I'm in the library with Caius (he surprisingly took a somewhat liking to me), he is giving me ‘lectures’ about modern art and real art. I always listen and take notes while he talks because sometimes he does ask me questions on what he has said so far. I interrupted his lecture

"Caius, why do you think humans love modern day art so much?”

He stayed quiet for a minute and said

“I believe it's because it is closer to their timeline and the humans can make broader and deeper meanings when something is simple versus ancient art has a more easier meaning but has a more complicated but beautiful outcome”.

I nodded and agreed.

“I always thought ancient art is more exquisite and fascinating then modern art”

He looked at me with an intrigued look

“Why do you say that?”

“As interesting modern day art is, now a days you can splatter any color on a white canvas and it's called a masterpiece, when ancient art would take months or even years to complete but it is worth the result”

He nodded

“Yes, I agree with you, it is entirely mental to think such things are true with modern art”

I nodded, Caius, the most ruthless king of the three agreed with me, it's not a surprise or shock since it does happen quite often and we think alike sometimes. I think that might be why he tolerates me more than the other guards and his brothers. We continued with our talk until a lower guard came and said that the others had returned from their mission.

Once he said the "others" I ran toward the throne room and saw Felix standing in front of the kings with the other guards. He turned his attention to me and I had to fight the urge to jump in his arms at that moment for the reason we are in front of the masters. I instead stood next to Caius' throne which he sat in after I arrived. I gave Felix a wink and he had to fight an urge to smile in return.

Soon after the report was over and the guards along with myself were dismissed, and once we were in the hallway I jumped into Felix’s arms that were already opened for me. I hugged him tightly and I kissed him without a second thought, we must of kissed for a while because we heard Demetri teasing us

“Get a room you two” We pulled away from the kiss and I said to Felix “He does have point” 

Felix chuckled but nodded, he set me down and we both raced into our shared room. Once we were inside I said

“Fe you have no idea how much I missed you” 

“I missed you too cara mia, I almost lost my mind in the mission but Demetri knocked some sense into me and I remembered that you promised once I came back we would have our fair share of fun”

I laughed while he smirked

“Of course you would remember that Fe, I bet you just couldn't get it out of your mind but it motivated you to get the mission finished as soon as possible, no?”

He nodded “Of course, anything to be able to see you in all of your glory”

I wrapped my arms around him and looked up to him

“I also couldn't get the thought of what you could do to me when you come back from the mission”

He pushed me against the wall and he leaned against the wall with his arm and looked down on me with a smirk

"Oh yea? How about we make those thoughts realistic?” I nodded without hesitation.

In an instant we were both in bed naked and making those thoughts realistic, we did it for 5 days straight until we stopped and were cuddling with me resting my head on his chest with an arm draped over his stomach and he had his arms around me.

“5 days Fe, I mean i'm not surprised remember when we first became mates and we did it for 2 months straight”

“How could I forget cara mia, best experience ever but every time we make love its always the best and it feels like it's the first time”

“It does feel like it, I can never get enough of you mi amor”

We stayed in a comfortable silence until we heard a knock and a voice say

“Are you two done yet? The twins are no fun and I missed you two already”

Me and Felix chuckled at Demetri's whining and I said

“Yes we will meet you in the lounge in 5 minutes”

We heard a cheer and then retreating footsteps.

We got dressed quickly and ran to the lounge room where Demetri was at waiting for us like a child, he saw us and said

“Finally, I was starting to think you forgotten of me”

“How could I ever forget you Dem, your my best friend”

He smiled and Felix went to sit on the couch with Demitri while I sat on the coffee table facing both vampires. We just talked for hours until the twins joined us. Demetri kept the conversation going

“Can you believe that human that the Cullens have, she had the audacity to speak to us like she had some power over us”

I raised an eyebrow when he said that

“Bella? The human swears just because she's with the Cullens she can't be killed, one day she might just get killed and I might as well be the one” 

Both guys smirked and Felix spoke up

“Of course you will be the one cara mia, after all the crap she's put you through and given you attitude, when we first meet her and she addressed you in such a way I would of killed her on the spot if it weren't for the masters” 

I nodded “She does have some gut, I'll give her that but that will get her killed easily” 

Jane piped up “Yes I agree, it makes me mad I can’t use my gift on her” 

I smiled “I know Jane, but someday she will get a nice karma”

They all nodded and Alec spoke up “You know I never got the chance to use my gift on her, you think it would have worked?

“I'm not sure, maybe”

______________

Me and Felix are once again relaxing in our private chambers cuddling. I love to cuddle with him, with our height differences I always feel so protective and safe in his arms, I love to lay my head on his broad chest with an arm draped over his stomach with my leg over his waist.

Sometimes when Felix has a tough day with training newborns he likes to lay on my stomach or chest and he wraps his muscular arms around my waist, in his words 'You're so comfy mia amore and I feel at peace and closer to you like this”. When he said these exact words to me many centuries ago I literally melted, if I had an actual beating heart it would've skipped a beat. Sometimes he doesn't even have to tell me he wants to cuddle or I to him, we just know or I read his actual thoughts.

In a soft voice I said “Fe, can I ask you something?”

“Of course mia amore, what's in your mind?”

"Have you ever thought about wanting a kid, a baby maybe?”

There was a thick silence but I heard his thoughts “More than anything, i wish I could have a biological child with her, give her something she has always wanted” at hearing his thought I smiled sadly but he soon spoke up

“I have thought about it mia amore, I would love to have a kid with you only…”

“You wish we could have a biological kid together”

He stayed quiet for a minute “Yes but I would not mind adopting a child with you, it would mean we would raise a child together as our own”

“You think the masters would let us adopt a kid? you know how master Aro is when it comes to things like this”

“That's why we talk with the masters together”

I sat up looking down on him with a smile, “You really want to do this my love?”

He reached a hand out to my cheek caressing it “Of course tesoro, I always want to give you everything you ask of me, and I want this also”

I leaned into this touch “Ok then, let’s talk with the masters then my love”

I smiled at him and I felt like my eyes twinkled. He smiled in return and pulled me into a deep passionate kiss which I returned, he pulled me  on top of him and rested his hands on my waist while my hands ran into his hair. We pulled away and I said looking deeply into his bright red eyes

“I love you Felix, so much”

“I love you cara mia, forever and always”

As said before later in the day me and Felix went to talk with the Masters about wanting to adopt a child. I'm a bit nervous but I think they might say yes, me and Felix are the ones who do all of the heavy work around here.

We arrive at the masters library and we walk in holding hands. I saw that Aro looked up from a book and he gave us that creepy smile 

“Ah dear y/n and Felix, what brings you two here?”

I felt Felix squeeze my hand and he spoke up “Me and y/n have a request, well more like a wish masters If I may say” 

I saw that Caius looked up with a sudden interest in the conversation “Well go on, what is it that you wish for”

I spoke up with a small smile “Me and Felix have been talking about adopting a child”

There was that tense silence and I looked at all three masters waiting for them to say something, I even saw Marcus' eyes sparkle with interest. 

Aro spoke up “A child you say? Why the sudden interest or why the request?

“Me and Felix have always wanted a child but with the status of being vampires we just lost hope on it a long time ago but with recent events we thought about adopting one (I saw that Aro was about to interrupt but I gave him a quick look) and before you say anything about our duties me and Felix will keep up with our duties and stay here still, we would raise the child here and with time when the child is of age we will turn them”

I saw Caius had an impressed look

“It seems someone came with a valid and persuasive speech, I taught you well y/n” I saw he had a very small smile.

I nodded “I learned from the best after all (smiling at him), so then what's the final answer then”

I squeezed Felix’s hand which he returned and then Aro spoke up

“I grant you permission to adopt a child, if you stay on top of your missions and duties as guards”

My eyes widen slightly and I looked at Felix who was already looking at me with a smile

“We both promise on your request masters”

All three of them nodded and then we ran out laughing happily, Felix even lifted me and spinned me around and he yelled

“We are going to be parents cara mia”

A/N: Should I make a part 2? I simp over Felix big time, he is the BFHG (Big Friendly Handsome Giant :). Anyways let me know if you want a second part. But the next one is going to be Alec (I also simp over this vampire).

[theresattrpgforthat]

Any games thematically similar to Fallen London? Blades in the Dark helps me scratch that itch on the tabletop, but there are probably others.

THEME: Fallen London.

Hello friend! So first of all, I’d recommend checking out the free ttrpg Skyfarer, written by Grant Howitt & Chris Taylor, and released by Failbetter Games, as it’s the canonical Sunless Skies TTRPG. So it’s set in the same universe! I’ve talked about it before in one of my Free Games posts.

Now that that’s covered, let’s see what else is out there.

Do Not Fear, by Hella Big Claws.

Do Not Fear is a Forged In the Dark Tabletop Roleplaying game, about accepting the fleetingness of life; and using the strength that gives you in order to combat a growing stagnation.

Fight as a Hunter, a person who has been given a Gift of Bloom; a fungus like infection that allows for incredible strength and regenerative ability; in exchange for subsuming your flesh as you die.

Combat or save the Rusted; living creatures infected by a growing viral stagnation; marbling their bones and rusting their flesh; sculpting them into horrifyingly beautiful creations.

Ascend the Tower; a large, multilayered structure which you call home. Interact with the factions and people within, as you set down roots.

This game is on my to-buy list for sure, as I love FitD games and I’m intrigued by the themes of infection and stagnation that appear in this game. This game is still very much in-progress and so there might be some bugs to work out, but thanks to the Itch.io Summer Sale, this game is currently half-off! Honestly the cover art draws me in as well, and I’m hoping that the designer has more in store where that came from, because I find it very evocative, and I’m interested to see where this game goes.

Beneath a Cursed Moon, by Karrius.

Beneath a Cursed Moon is a Gothic fantasy game that uses a system based on the Apocalypse World engine. Take the role of monster hunters and slay vampires, werewolves, mermen, and more in a game inspired by Castlevania and Bloodborne.

I’m seeing a lot of ties between Fallen London, Blades in the Dark, and Bloodborne, which is why if a game has Bloodborne in it’s list of inspirations, I add it to the list. Beneath a Cursed Moon is a pay-what-you-want PbtA game that focuses primarily on monster-slaying. Because it expects you as a group to create and tailor your own unique setting, I can see creating a space that evokes the same tone as Fallen London as pretty feasible. There are 11 different playbooks to choose from, and a whole section of monsters and monster-creation guidelines that give the GM plenty to work with. You should absolutely check out this game.

Vigilant, by Ill Advised Gaming.

Vigilant is a Gothic Victorian world of monsters and churches and eldritch secrets. Of Blood and Beasts and Hunters. Of Dreams and Nightmares.

Using a combination of rules from Caltrop Core and Powered by the Apocalypse, this should be a pretty easy-to-learn system. You’ll make moves similar to PbtA games, but you’ll roll pools of d4’s, similar to Caltrop Core. Characters also have a shared resource called Momentum, which represent show you can affect the narrative using assets present on your character sheet. Setting-wise, the world of industry is introducing new monsters to a world already fraught with the terrors of the ancient. Your characters are monster-hunters who find themselves empowered by the Covenants: knights, scientists, hunters, and more.

The game is still in early-access, so not all of the character options are available yet, but the setting itself fucking slaps. You should check it out.

Unhallowed Metropolis, by Strix Publishing.

It has been two hundred years since first the outbreak of the Plague, when the dead rose to feed on the flesh of the living. Countless millions perished in the chaos that followed. It was the dawn of a new dark age.

London, the capital of the Neo-Victorian Empire, is a vast, densely crowded city. Beneath the towering walls and crackling Tesla towers, where the fallout of a thousand crematoria darkens the streets, ten-million souls live in squalor. Predators, human and inhuman, stalk the slums and rookeries, preying on the unwary and the helpless. Beneath the haunted streets, resurrection men and body snatchers hock their grisly wares at blood-stained meat markets. Their clients are degenerate ghouls and amateur anatomists who practice the outlawed science of reanimation.

This game inspired by authors such as Mary Shelley and Edgar Allen Poe. It uses a point-buy character creation system, and allows you to play Dhampirs, Mad Doctors, Aristocrats, Criminals and so much more. This is a game about noir tropes, a Victorian post-apocalypse, and zombies. One of my favourite pieces of this game is the character class of the Mourners, who are a group of women hired to stand by the bedsides of the recently deceased, ready to decapitate them at the first sign of re-animation.

If you want to hear an actual-play of this game, the long-standing AP podcast Fandible has a campaign that is one of the longest-running games on their feed. You can hear from their play how much of a dearly-loved game this is.

What Lies Beneath the Darkness, by Cezar Capacle.

What Lies Beneath the Darkness is a gaslamp fantasy game about intrigue and struggle. 

You play as a Horror employed by a faction to expand their dominance over the victorianesque city of Ravenswatch, while you fight to balance the human and supernatural natures that inhabit you.

You will face the dark streets of Ravenswatch performing missions for your faction. You live an internal battle between your human links and your dark instincts, between what you want and what your faction demands.

This is a GM-less game that puts factions front-and-center, with both solo and multiplayer options. The game uses the Push system, which allows you to push-your-luck for better results, with a possibility of going too far, which I really really love. The game is gaslamp-gothic and supernatural, and puts the characters in fraught positions where they must work for more powerful masters, struggling not to fall into their personal darkness. I’m very very intrigued by this game.

Games I’ve Recommended Before

Slayers, by Gila RPGs.

18XX Night, by Deep Light Games.

The Between, by The Gauntlet.

[eruden-writes]

Room & Board - Part 19

paranormal fantasy vampire x human eventual triad (x werewolf)

Anonymous asked:

For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?

Links under cut!

x x x x x

Part 1 | Previous | Masterlist | Next

x x x x x

In your quickly fading consciousness, you realize Tabaeus has let go of your hands. Their own grip at your shoulders, long spindly fingers trembling. Turning your face toward the hand on your right, away from Tabaeus’s feasting mouth, you find your sight blurring. 

Before unconsciousness claims you, you press a gentle kiss to the back of their palm. Driven to somehow comfort the vampire, even at such a discordant juncture. Their fingers flex, claws digging into your skin as something akin to another sob bubbles up from their mouth.

That’s the last thing you hear as darkness pulls you under. 

---

The next morning, Tabaeus is gone. 

They must have called to Lachlan in the middle of the night, swept off into the darkness. Faintly, you remember a touch on your cheek, whispered words, but it is all so muddled in your groggy head. 

You sit in the kitchen, hunched over the table, head in your hands. The bowl of cereal you had blearily made for yourself sits uneaten, growing soggier by the second. Heat burns in your eyes, but the tears don’t fall. Just hover at the edge of your lids and burn at your nose.

“They thralled us while we slept. Probably to keep us dead asleep while they left.” Across from you, Ewan sits sprawled in his chair. His head leans back, his hand pressing to his own forehead. “Feels like a godsdamn hangover.”

“That fucking asshole,” you sigh, shoving your cereal further away. You cross your arms and lay your head down on them, trying to ignore the anger and sadness churning inside your chest. To know Tabaeus would still thrall you, even after you bent to their request, makes bile crawl up your throat.

You don’t even look up as Ewan asks, “What’s our plan now?”

“What do you mean, what now? Tabaeus is gone,” you mumble, words muffled by your arms. Depressed resignation weighs heavily in your chest and in your words.

You catch movement as Ewan shifts. Something in the air shifts and you think he’s looking at you now. “You don’t want to go find them?” 

“Can we even find them?” Hopeless, you cross your arms atop the table and flump your head down into your arms. Lachlan was obviously powerful and Tabaeus was no schmuck when it came to his powers either. If neither wanted to be found, could you and Ewan have any hope to track them down?

Ewan’s silence answers your question. If Tabaeus didn’t want to be found, if he was so intent on just disappearing from your lives - both of your lives, really - could either of you find him? You don’t even know what kind of underground society vampires operated in. How hard would it be to dig them out? How many had centuries of experience, of power, to wield?

Silence descended on the two of you, as you both stew in woe. It was only when a small, unfamiliar voice interrupted the pity party that you looked up, “You can find him.”

On the table, the rodents Tabaeus had brought home stare at you. Confused, you push yourself up in a proper sitting position and glance around, ignoring the fact the sugar gliders somehow got out of their cage. The only other person present, however, is Ewan. And he’s staring wide-eyed at the sugar gliders. Without realizing it, you have braced for his question before he mutters, “Why are the sugar gliders talking?” 

“We’re imps, thank you very much,” Liuva, the lighter of the two gliders, titters as their nose twitches. At the disbelieving look that you and Ewan shoot, they comically heave a sigh that makes the sugar glider equivalent of shoulders rise and fall. Before your very eyes, the sugar gliders shift, the fur falling away and becoming a cape, leaving two very small, human-ish figures standing atop the table. 

Both spindly figures had dark black eyes and markings on their grey-toned skin, long pointed ears peeking out from their hair. The only distinct difference between the two was the color of their hair - wild tufts that looked as soft as dandelion fluff - which happened to be the same shade as their respective capes. Your eyes flicker up to Ewan, but he appears as shock as you are. Perhaps the two imps had perfected sugar glider stink to the point even a werewolf couldn’t tell the difference.

“When were you going to tell me this,” you hiss, returning your attention to the two imps. Another question rammed into your head as you leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “When was Tabaeus going to tell me!?” 

Carelessly, Bjarka and Liuva shrug in response. Neither seem particularly wary as you loom over them.

Taking advantage of your outraged quiet, Ewan steps in, “What's your story, you two?” 

The two imps half-turn toward Ewan, before exchanging glances with one another. A silent conversation seems to transmit between the two, before both give a relenting shrug. Liuva speaks first, their eyes flicking from you to Ewan as they speak, “We just wanted to be pampered.” 

“We saw how humans cared for pets and took the form of something cute and fluffy.” When Bjarka speaks, you realize they were the one who spoke first. Their tone is deeper than Liuva’s own. Bjarka sighs dreamily, hands clasped together and pressed to the side of their face like some sort of 1950s schoolgirl lost in a pleasant daydream.

“Tabaeus knew what we were right away,” Liuva takes up the line, admiration coloring their voice and pitching higher. “But they were kind.” 

“They didn’t treat us like problems,” Bjarka adds, their nose wrinkling as their tone sours.

That bitter tone is mirrored in Liuva’s voice as she adds, “Like annoyances.” 

Turning to you, Bjarka’s expression turns dire and genuine. “But Tabaeus did want us to behave.”

“So we did.” Liuva solemnly nods, though you could swear you see their hand move behind their back. It’s a movement that reminds you of a child crossing their fingers behind their back.

The story seems rather scant, you think. Why would they choose to willingly be people’s pets? What about the man who ‘sold’ them to Tabaeus? You bite your tongue on the very questions. Those curiosities could wait. There is one question gnawing at your head, wanting answers more. “Why didn’t they tell me about you two?” 

Once again, Bjarka and Liuva exchange looks. Concern crimps both their faces, but it is Bjarka who turns to you. “They were looking for the right time, but it never came around.”

“They were worried about freaking you out,” Liuva mumbles, giving you yet another shrug. 

Swallowing heavily, you ask, "Did you see them leave?”

"Yes, they were with another vampire. Slimy and sleazy.” Raising their little hands, Liuva wiggles their tiny fingers and makes a face.

Ewan and you nearly speak as one as you both knowingly say, "Lachlan.”

Both imps shrug and make a sound as if to say ‘if you say so.’ Both sets of dark little eyes flicker between you and Ewan, quiet now that they had brought you up to speed of their own circumstances.

Your brain is still trying to process yet another turn when Ewan gets the conversation back on track, “Alright, so how do we find Tabaeus?” 

Bjarka, the imp with the darker furred cape, turns those ink-deep eyes on Ewan. Something in their expression glimmers with vague amusement and practicality. “You already know a witch.” 

“Jemma?” Ewan perks up and you can almost see a pair of canine-like ears standing tall.

Your head snaps to the werewolf, your eyebrows raised. “Jemma’s a witch-witch?” 

Awkwardness causes Ewan’s shoulders to pinch, a wince of a smile tugging across his lips as he nods an affirmative to your question. 

You knew your co-worker was into the esoteric stuff and some spirituality. Tarot and gems, woo-woo paranormal stuff, and the like. But those were just trends flooding the mainstream now. It didn’t seem like that much of a stretch to just believe she was simply a human dreaming of something more to life. 

Then again, you were currently in your kitchen, discussing how to find a vampire with not just a werewolf, but two imps. Could you really be surprised?

“When did my life become a paranormal drama?” You groan and press your face to the table, arms outstretched around the two imps. If it bothers them, they don’t seem to notice. One of them - Bjarka you guess, judging by the position - pats your forearm consolingly.

You hear the apologetic smile that crosses Ewan’s lips as he teases, “I think that’s just what happens when you befriend a vampire.”

---

Soon enough, you find yourself at Jemma’s studio with your supernatural entourage. Jemma’s apartment is what you expected it to be, with all her witchy implementations in plain sight. Perhaps that was why the occult had gotten a boost in recent years. Magic users and the supernatural were tired of hiding.

Jemma’s home is cluttered, but comfortable. Being a one-room studio, there were no walls to delineate the kitchen from the living room, though Jemma had hung up curtains to separate her ‘bedroom’ from the rest of the space. Plants overran the kitchen, with leafy fronds hanging from the ceiling and pots clustered around the sink. A long table, covered in bottles and candles and even a small cauldron, separated the kitchen from the living room. Books and trinkets scattered about on any available surface. 

“I might be able to track them through scrying,” Jemma sighs once you have brought her up to speed. Her lips purse and her eyes narrow as she admits to her potential inability, “but if they’re part of an old coven, they may be protected.” 

By your side, on the frayed couch in Jemma’s living room, Ewan growls a quiet curse. You stare at the coffee table in front of you, eyebrows furrowed. A fabric drapes over the squat table and, upon the cloth, a candle and box of closed tarot cards sits. You still feel adrift, unable to think of anything effective in the situation. Perhaps it’s Tabaeus’s lingering thrall keeping you unfocused.

Against your chest, you feel Bjarka and Liuva shift in an inside pocket on your jacket. You’re not sure if it’s an imp thing, to sleep as often as they do, or simply a luxury of their life as pseudo pets. The thought invariably leads back to Tabaeus, how they had cared for the imps and how the imps had spoken so darkly of their usual treatment. 

Before you know it, you hunch over, your face falling into your hands. You dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, the pressure relieving the pulse of frustration in your thoughts. Ewan’s warm, heavy hand sympathetically presses to your shoulder a beat later. There’s a long moment of silence as you breathe, before you drop your hands and glance to the man beside you.

He offers you an encouraging, if weak, smile. You return a smile just as flimsy as his. It’s Jemma’s rough voice that breaks your gaze from Ewan’s eyes, “Did either of you let them feed from you?”

“Yeah,” you reply, trying to fight down the embarrassed flush as you meet Jemma’s critical gaze.

“I did too.” Ewan raises his free hand, flinching under the look you and Jemma shoot him. His expression takes on a bashful edge, his gaze bouncing between the two of you though not meeting either look head-on. “It happened in the van after you fell asleep and we were, uh, getting to know each other still. They needed a boost.”

Unable to help yourself, you snort in amusement. Especially as you catch the increasing blush beneath Ewan’s stubble.

“Well, I think that's your answer.” Jemma leans back in her wooden chair, arms crossing over her chet. “If vampires feeding on Tabaeus, or vice versa, could remain connected, then you should have a connection too.”

Your attention flicks back to your co-worker, a furrow pinching between your brows. “How do we tap into that?” 

“That is the million dollar question, isn’t it?” Jemma’s narrowed eyes rove over her work table as her fingers tap against her biceps. Just as you start to think this will need more research, Jemma stands and heads into the kitchen, riffling around in a drawer. She returns with a fresh pack of sewing needles and two little glass vials that remind you of bead containers from a craft store. 

Jemma shoves the vials and needles toward you. “Prick your fingers and give me a drop, both of you.”

You and Ewan comply, carefully drawing and collecting the blood. Once the vials are handed over to Jemma, she turns away. In the short amount of time, she has her little cauldron filled with purple liquid and bubbling over a hot plate. The room fills with an indescribable scent as liquid boils in the small bowl and the witch references a number of books. She hums to herself as she throws more bits into the occult stew, making the liquid glow a gentle blue.

As Jemma toils, insecure thoughts creep into your brain. Should you even be doing this? Tabaeus chose to leave and wanted you safe. Hell, he might even be the reason why your brain is so fuzzy every time you try to think about saving him. By going against his wishes, could you really bring him home? Or would he stay where he was out of a sense of duty? Dread swells up in your stomach, pinching at your expression.

You feel Ewan’s arm snake around your shoulders, tugging you into his side and startling you from your thoughts. “Don’t worry, we’ll find them.” 

“Maybe that’s what I’m worried about,” you admit, casting a glance up to Ewan’s face. Confusion paints his expression and so you go on,  “Lachlan seemed powerful and who knows how many vampires are under his leadership? Even Tabaeus felt powerless against Lachlan.” 

Ewan is silent for a long moment, his eyebrows dipped into a ‘v’. You don’t expect he’ll have anything further to say, but he surprises you by slowly feeling his words out, “I think that’s just what Lachlan wants Tabaeus to believe.” 

“What?” Straightening a little from your slump, you gaze intently up at Ewan, trying to determine if he’s just trying to make you feel better or if he’s being genuine.

“Lachlan smells like a power-hungry creep and what better way to maintain power than to keep a threat under control?” Ewan’s gaze is no longer on you. He’s staring off into some middle distance, his thoughts churning in directions you can’t possibly imagine. Briefly, you wonder if this had something to do with his old pack. “Tabaeus is old and, from what I know, the older a vampire is, the stronger they are.”

You press your lips together, acknowledging Ewan’s point, but still worried. “Even if they were created as a Memory Keeper?”

“That I don’t know, but no one else seems to know either.” Ewan shrugs, offering you another of his helpless but hopeful smiles. For the first time since Tabaeus left, the expression makes something stir in your chest. Maybe a little of that hope is rubbing off on you.

Settling back, you consider what Ewan has said. No one else seems to know a blasted thing, that is true. Maybe there is hope to find Tabaeus, to bring him home, to rid all of you of Lachlan. The problem simply is figuring out how.

[agent-grey-fics]

Who we are | Paul Lahote | Part 4

Paired: Paul Lahote x reader

Wordcount: 2500

Summary: In a small town nestled between the towering pines and the crashing waves, Y/n finds herself entangled in a web of secrets and supernatural mysteries. A chance revelation from Paul propels her into the heart of the Quileute tribe's ancient tales and the enigmatic force of imprinting. As the bonfire's glow illuminates the hidden stories of destiny, Y/n is caught between the echoes of legends and the complexities of her own heart, unsure if she can navigate the shadows of a world she never knew existed.

Writers note: Here is part 4 of 'who we are', part 5 coming soon ,

Previous parts: part 1 | part 2 | Part 3

You can keep your distance. His words kept echoing through your head as you made your way over to Jacob’s place. The drive to Jacob's place felt longer than usual, the weight of Paul's words hanging heavily in the air. Your mind raced with conflicting thoughts, torn between the desire to confront Jacob about the supernatural world he was part of and the uncertainty of how to handle your complicated feelings towards Paul. The engine hummed beneath the hood of your car as you pulled into Jacob's driveway, and you took a deep breath to steady yourself before stepping out into the cool evening.

The familiar scent of pine and damp earth surrounded you as you approached Jacob's house, its warm glow spilling out from the windows. The front door opened before you could even knock, revealing Jacob's concerned expression.

‘Hey,’ he greeted, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what was bothering you. You didn't waste any time. "Why didn't you tell me about the supernatural world, Jake? Paul said to keep my distance. What's going on?’ Jacob sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. ‘Look, I wanted to protect you. It's not an easy world to understand, and I didn't want you to get involved. But with you being his imprint he had to tell you.’ You raised your eyebrow, how did he know? It seemed to be an intimate fact that he wouldn’t share with everyone, so how did Jake know?’

You crossed your arms, frustration bubbling within you. ‘Protect me? From what, exactly?’

Jacob hesitated as if debating how much to reveal. ‘We’re not the only supernatural beings y/n. Remember our tales, you have us but there are also cold ones, and other creatures out there. It's dangerous, and I didn't want you caught up in the middle of it.’

A shiver ran down your spine at the mention of cold obes. It felt like you had stepped into a fantasy novel, and reality was slipping away. ‘Xold ones?’ He nodded. ‘The blood-sucking kind, vampires.’ You didn't know what to say for a moment. ‘Vampires?’ He nodded. ‘What kind of shit show have I gotten into?’ He laughed. ‘You’ll get used to it.’ A soft sigh left your lips. ‘Paul said I should stay away from him. What's that about?’

Jacob's expression darkened. ‘Paul imprinted on you. It's a wolf thing. He can't stay away, even if he wanted to. Imprinting is like a soulmate bond. He can't help how he feels.’

Your eyes widened at the revelation. It still sounded like something out of a supernatural romance novel, not reality. ‘But we're just friends,’ you insisted, trying to make sense of it all. Jacob nodded solemnly. ‘It doesn't always start as a romantic connection, but it can turn into one. It's complicated, I know.’ Frustration and confusion churned within you, the weight of the situation sinking in. ‘So, what do I do now? Do I just avoid Paul? Do I date him? Do we become good friends?’ Jacob sighed again, his gaze sympathetic. ‘It's not that simple. Imprinting is powerful, but it doesn't guarantee a smooth journey. You need to talk to Paul, figure out what you both want. Ignoring it won't make it go away.’

'Doesn't his behaviour make sense now? That he always got mad when I put my arm around you, for example?' And then it clicked. You had simply shoved off his behaviour because you didn't understand him. But now you saw that it was jealousy. 'Shit, now that you mention it.' Jake laughed. 'I often did it to tease him. I like to tease him.' You rolled your eyes.  You decided you didn't want to talk about it anymore and changed the subject.  'Okay, something else because I don't want to think about it for a while. It confuses me.  Can we watch a movie?'  ‘Sure, whatever you want y/n/n.’  The room filled with the cozy glow of the TV screen as you and Jacob settled onto the couch. The weight of the earlier conversation about Paul still lingered in the air, but you both decided to shift gears for a while.

After a brief discussion, you settled on 'Grown Ups' with Adam Sandler, a choice that promised laughter and a carefree atmosphere. As the movie began, the opening credits rolled, accompanied by a catchy soundtrack. The comedic antics of the characters on the screen provided a welcomed distraction, offering a temporary escape from the tangled emotions brought on by the discussion about Paul.

Jacob's presence felt reassuring as his arm found its way around the back of the couch. You nestled comfortably against him, appreciating the familiarity and support of your best friend. The shared laughter from the movie served as a comforting soundtrack, momentarily easing the confusion that had clouded your thoughts earlier. For that brief moment, the camaraderie and simplicity of watching a movie provided a reprieve, allowing you both to enjoy the present without dwelling on the complexities of the supernatural world that had come to light.

As you left Jacob's house a couple of hours later, the night air whispered through the trees, carrying with it the scent of uncertainty. The drive home was filled with contemplation, your mind grappling with the newfound knowledge of the supernatural world and the enigma of Paul's imprinting. Jake had invited you to the bonfire where his dad told the tribe stories. This way you could look at them from a new perspective

When you arrived home, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection. The reflection of a person caught in the crossfire of something beyond their comprehension. The journey ahead seemed daunting, but one thing was certain – you couldn't keep your distance forever.

That night, as you slipped into the embrace of sleep, your dreams went straight to the supernatural world. The moon hung low in the obsidian sky, casting an otherworldly glow over a dense forest. The rustle of leaves underfoot echoed through the silent night, and a cool breeze carried whispers that seemed to beckon you deeper into the shadows.

Amidst the towering trees, eyes that glowed like embers peered out from the darkness. Silhouettes of wolves moved gracefully between the trunks, their fur blending seamlessly with the shadows. Their presence seemed both mystical and familiar, as if you had stepped into a world where secrets whispered through the rustling leaves and moonlight.

As you ventured further into the mysterious forest, a figure emerged from the shadows. Paul stood before you, his eyes reflecting the same mysterious glow as the wolves around him. The air crackled with an unspoken energy, and the forest seemed to pulse with a hidden power.

Without uttering a word, Paul motioned for you to follow. Together, you traversed through the moonlit labyrinth of the dream, the enigmatic wolves accompanying you like silent guardians. The path ahead was shrouded in mist, adding an element of mystique to the journey.

The dream unfolded like a cryptic dance between reality and fantasy, leaving you captivated by the enigma that surrounded Paul and the wolves. There was a sense of purpose in the dream, a connection to something beyond comprehension, yet undeniably powerful.

As you reached the heart of the dream, the moon above reached its zenith, casting an intense glow on a hidden clearing. In the center, a pool of reflective water mirrored the celestial canvas above. The wolves gathered around, their eyes fixed on the pool, as if it held the key to a secret known only to them.

Just as you leaned in to catch a glimpse of the mysterious reflection, the dream began to dissolve. The wolves faded into the shadows, and Paul's figure melted away, leaving only the echo of their presence lingering in your mind.

As you woke, the memory of the dream clung to your consciousness, leaving you with a sense of both wonder and intrigue. The enigmatic world you had glimpsed in your sleep lingered like a tantalizing mystery, inviting you to unravel the secrets concealed within the realms of dreams.

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple as you made your way to the beach for the Quileute bonfire. The rhythmic crash of waves against the shore created a soothing backdrop to the gathering, and the scent of burning wood filled the air as the bonfire crackled and roared.

Billy Black, adorned in traditional Quileute regalia, stood near the flames, ready to share stories that echoed through generations. As the night settled in, the community gathered around the fire, forming a circle that seemed to unite everyone in the warmth and glow. You felt like an outsider, everyone here was family or grew up that way. You were the only one who came from outside the reservation. You didn't have much time to think because Jacob waved you over. It was a spot between Jake and Paul, perfect. ‘Hi,’ It was an awkward greeting and you threw Jake an angry look. When you were seated between the two men you tried to take as little space as possible and made yourself as small as possible. But it didn't matter, you felt Paul's thigh against yours. A sigh left his lip when you didn’t pull away. The touch was electric, a warm feeling spread throughout your body.

Billy's voice resonated, rich with the weight of history, as he began to weave tales of the Quileute tribe. The firelight flickered across his face, casting shadows that danced in harmony with the ebb and flow of his words. The stories spoke of legends and spirits, of wolves that walked as men, and the sacred connection between the tribe and the land. Around you, faces were illuminated by the mesmerizing glow, their expressions reflecting a mixture of reverence and fascination. The crackling flames seemed to carry the essence of the tales, filling the air with a sense of mystique that bound the listeners together in a shared experience.

As the stories unfolded, the night embraced a magical quality, and you found yourself captivated by the ancient wisdom woven into the narratives. The legends came alive, painting vivid images in your mind, and the sound of the waves seemed to harmonize with the heartbeat of the stories.

In the midst of the gathered community, the bond between the Quileute tribe and their ancestral tales became palpable. The bonfire served not only as a source of physical warmth but as a vessel for the preservation of cultural heritage and the passing down of knowledge from one generation to the next.

The bonfire crackled, casting a warm glow on the faces of the gathered Quileute community as Billy Black continued to share tales of their rich heritage. His eyes, deep and knowing, met yours briefly, and a subtle shift in his expression hinted at a story that carried a weight beyond the flickering flames.

‘Now, there's something more, something that ties our hearts to a destiny that can't be denied,’ Billy began, his voice taking on a solemn tone. The surrounding chatter hushed, and all eyes turned toward the tribal elder.

‘Imprinting,’ Billy uttered, and the word hung in the air like a mysterious incantation. ‘It's a bond that's been woven into the very fabric of our tribe, a connection that transcends time and space.’  As he spoke, you couldn't shake the feeling that his words carried a peculiar weight, as if they were meant for you alone. Uncomfortably, you shifted in your place, sensing an invisible spotlight on you as Billy continued. You could feel Paul's body stiffen beside you. To reassure him a little you pushed your leg against his, which seemed to work because he relaxed instantaneously.

‘In our tribe, imprinting is a sacred bond that occurs when a wolf finds its other half, its soulmate. It's an unbreakable connection that goes beyond the physical and the mundane,’ Billy explained, his gaze once again settling on you, or so it seemed.

The implications of his words settled heavily in the pit of your stomach. The mention of imprinting felt like a revelation, and a chill ran down your spine. The bonfire's warmth seemed to wane as the tribe's collective attention seemed to hone in on you, amplifying the feeling of being scrutinized.

‘In times of great need, the imprint bond can become a source of strength, a guiding force that helps our people navigate the challenges that life throws at us,’ Billy continued, his eyes still fixed on you. ‘It's a power that resides within us, connecting us to something greater than ourselves.’

As Billy delved deeper into the intricacies of imprinting, you couldn't escape the feeling of being caught in the crossfire of something beyond your understanding. The firelight danced on Paul's features, casting shadows that seemed to mirror the uncertainty playing out in your mind.

Billy's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, a knowing glint in his eyes, before he shifted his attention to the flames. "Imprinting is a force that binds wolves to their destined partners, a connection forged by fate itself. Sometimes, it happens when you least expect it, and it changes everything."

The air around the bonfire became charged with an unspoken tension, and you felt the weight of eyes upon you. Both Paul and Jacob seemed to sense your discomfort, their expressions reflecting a mix of concern and understanding.

Paul's hand found yours, offering a reassuring squeeze, while Jacob shot you a supportive glance. The trio of friends exchanged glances, their unspoken connection echoing the tales Billy shared.

‘In times of great peril, the imprint bond has guided our tribe to safety, ensuring our survival through generations,’ Billy continued, his voice resonating with a blend of reverence and caution. ‘It's a force that cannot be ignored, and it shapes the destiny of those it touches.’

As the stories unfolded, you couldn't shake the feeling that the ancient tales had taken a personal turn, focusing on the very bonds that connected you to Paul. A subtle murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd, but your thoughts were consumed by an unsettling realization. The idea that you were entangled in the mysterious web of imprinting weighed heavily on your mind. 

As Billy concluded his stories, a collective sigh seemed to ripple through the assembly. The embers of the bonfire glowed, casting a subdued light on the faces of those who had listened with rapt attention. The night had woven a tapestry of shared history, connecting the present to the timeless narratives that echoed through the lineage of the Quileute tribe.

[zapreportsblog]

Request for female reader poly volturi.

Im sorry if this is long but the idea popped into my head and I just need to get it out.

She’s the mate of the three kings. She’s becomes a target from another coven that wants to take down the volturi. They managed to kidnap her and all hell breaks loose the volturi immediately act. She’s held prisoner in the covens hideout but she make an uno reverse on them because she’s has the ability to create and control fire she’s had this ability all her life but kept it. A secret from everyone is hard to control for her and her ability is triggered by emotion. She sorta let the coven take her so she could flambéed them and help her mates in the process even thoguht she’s human and was terrified there was no way she was going to let them use her to take down her lovers.😤 so the place was held prisoner explodes and when the volturi get there the captures are on fire and running for their live only to be finished off by pissed off volturi kings.

Needless to say they are shook when they see the place in flames and her just walking out blue like flame surroingg her like halo and your hung the assholes who tried it. Her mates : reactions:👁️👄👁️

The guard:👁️👄👁️

So the kidnappers are taken care of (killed and finished off since they where already burning)

After they all go back home she has some explaining to do. She’s explains how she always had this ability but was scared of telling them because it’s hard for her to control and it sorta drains her energy which is why she sorta fainted afte setting everything on fire but she did it for them and because she was pissed off. She also didn’t know if she would hurt them but she found out that her powers are also controlled by her Will so if she want to harm her powers would do that of not they don’t. She shows them this by by touching them with her hands having flames but it’s not hurting them which makes her happy because she thought that would be impossible for her to have physical contact with them( hug ,kiss etc) turns out she can do that without worrying.

Hugs and kisses they are just happy she’s safe and proud of her 😊 relieved that their mate is ok but not gonna lie they where so scared of losing her 🥹 some ptsd might have happened poor Marcus would have been sweating if he was human . Shook all of them where after these events.

Sorry if this is long btw😂😅

Not a problem at all, i believe it’s you who’s sending in these long requests but I don’t mind, you’re being detailed which is great :)

↳ target on my back ↲

➘ summary : You should know better than to mess with what belongs to the volturi

➘ aro x reader x caius x marcus, volturi kings x reader, twilight x reader

The ancient halls of the Volturi castle echoed with the weight of history as (y/n) moved gracefully through its grand corridors. She was no ordinary vampire; she was the mate of the three Volturi kings: Aro, Caius, and Marcus. Her beauty was as captivating as her power, and her presence commanded respect from those within the castle's walls.

Today, (y/n) was perusing the extensive library, her fingers tracing the spines of leather-bound volumes. As she immersed herself in the knowledge within, a sense of tranquility settled over her. The bond between her and the Volturi kings was unbreakable, forged through centuries of loyalty and devotion.

However, that very bond also made her a target.

Rumors had been swirling about a rival coven, the Romans, who harbored a deep-seated hatred for the Volturi. They sought to take down the Volturi and establish their dominion over the vampire world. (y/n)'s unique position as the mate of the kings made her a valuable pawn in their dangerous game.

As the sun set and twilight painted the sky, (y/n) felt the presence of the Volturi kings drawing near. Aro, with his piercing crimson eyes and enigmatic smile, approached first.

"(y/n), my dear, I trust the library has provided you with some solace?" Aro's voice held a melodic quality as he spoke.

She smiled, her gaze meeting his. "Indeed, Aro. The knowledge contained within these walls is a treasure."

Caius, with his regal bearing and cold demeanor, joined them. "The Romans have grown bolder, (y/n). We must remain vigilant."

"Agreed," Marcus added, his gaze distant and mournful. "They will stop at nothing to tear down what we have built."

Aro's fingers lightly brushed (y/n)'s arm, his gaze intense. "They are aware of your significance to us, (y/n). You must take extra precautions."

(y/n) nodded, her expression determined. "I understand. I won't underestimate the danger they pose."

Days turned into nights, and (y/n) continued to live under the watchful eyes of the Volturi. She trained rigorously, honing her already formidable abilities to new heights. She knew that the Romans would strike when they perceived weakness, and she was determined not to give them that opportunity.

As she patrolled the castle walls one night, a chilling breeze swept through the air, sending a shiver down her spine. Her instincts kicked in, and she turned to face a group of menacing figures emerging from the shadows.

It was the Romans.

Their leader, a tall and imposing figure, stepped forward. "Ah, (y/n), it seems you've been well-protected by the Volturi."

(y/n) stood her ground, her voice unwavering. "I won't be swayed by your threats."

The Roman leader chuckled, his eyes gleaming with malice. "You underestimate our resolve, (y/n). Your connection to the Volturi is your weakness, and it will be your downfall."

The chilling night air hung heavy with tension as the Volturi gathered in the grand hall of their castle. News had reached them that (y/n), their mate and a crucial member of their coven, had been kidnapped by the Romans. The three kings exchanged grim looks, their expressions mirroring their shared concern.

"We must act swiftly," Aro declared, his voice carrying an edge of urgency. "The Romans have shown their hand, and they will not hesitate to use (y/n) against us."

Caius's eyes glittered with fury. "We will crush them and retrieve our mate."

Marcus, usually reserved, nodded in agreement. "We cannot afford to wait. Let us strike immediately."

As dawn approached, the Volturi assembled their forces and prepared to confront the Romans. Their resolve was unwavering, and the power they wielded was unlike any other in the vampire world.

Meanwhile, (y/n) found herself in a dimly lit chamber, the cold stone walls a stark reminder of her captivity. The Romans had used her own power against her, exploiting her vulnerability to fire by rendering her unconscious. As she slowly regained consciousness, her surroundings came into focus, and her heart raced with a mixture of anger and determination.

It was time to turn the tables.

Summoning her latent power, (y/n) focused her energy, creating a small flame in the palm of her hand. As the fire danced, she concentrated on her surroundings, igniting the edges of the ropes that bound her. The flames spread quickly, and within moments, the ropes were reduced to ashes.

With her hands free, (y/n) stood, her eyes blazing with intensity. She extended her power, flames licking across the walls of her prison. Panic spread through the Roman vampires as they realized the danger they were in. The fire roared to life, illuminating the chamber with an eerie glow.

"(y/n)!" the Roman leader shouted, his voice laced with desperation. "Stop this madness!"

She fixed him with a steely gaze. "You underestimated me. You may have taken me captive, but that’s only because I wanted you to. You may think you can control me, and those around me but I know one thing you can’t control.”

“And that is my power."

As the flames continued to rage, (y/n) moved with confidence, using her fire manipulation to keep the Romans at bay. She fought with a fierce determination, knowing that her ability was her greatest weapon.

Outside, the Volturi arrived at the Roman hideout, their presence like a storm descending upon the coven. The clash of powers and the chaos of battle echoed through the night as the two powerful factions collided.

Inside the chamber, (y/n) felt the familiar energy of the Volturi's arrival. She channeled her fire, creating a pathway through the walls. As the flames surged, she burst through the stone, emerging from the chamber in a blaze of fire and fury.

The Volturi fought with unmatched strength, their combined power a force to be reckoned with. Aro's crimson eyes blazed, Caius's wrath was unleashed, and Marcus's mournful gaze carried a weight of centuries.

Seeing their mate free and fighting alongside them only fueled their determination. The battle raged on, and (y/n) unleashed her fire against the Romans, their defenses crumbling in the face of her power.

In the midst of the chaos, (y/n) stood alongside the Volturi kings, her flames casting an ethereal light. The Romans were defeated, their plot shattered, and the Volturi's legacy remained intact.

And all remaining members were finished off by the kings themselves.

As the last embers of the battle flickered and faded, the Volturi kings and (y/n) stood amidst the aftermath of their victory. The scent of smoke lingered in the air, and the remnants of the Roman coven lay defeated around them. The bond that held the Volturi family together was stronger than ever.

Aro, his eyes alight with curiosity, approached (y/n) as she emerged from the dissipating flames. He regarded her with a mixture of intrigue and wonder. "My dear, I couldn't help but notice the way the flames danced around you. It was as if you were surrounded by a halo of fire."

Caius nodded in agreement, his stern expression giving way to genuine interest. "Indeed, your power over fire is remarkable."

(y/n) met their gazes, her own filled with a mix of emotions. She took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "I've always had these abilities, even before I became a vampire."

Marcus's voice, usually soft-spoken, held a touch of surprise. "You've had this power all along?"

She nodded, her gaze steady. "Yes, I've been able to create and control fire since I was a child. But I never saw fit to tell anyone. I didn't want my abilities to overshadow my role as your mate."

Aro's smile was genuine, his eyes reflecting a newfound appreciation. "My dear, you needn't have hidden such a remarkable gift. Your power is a testament to your strength and uniqueness."

Caius's lips curved into a rare smile, his tone carrying a hint of playfulness. "You've kept quite the secret, (y/n)."

She smiled back, her heart warming at their reactions. "I wanted to prove my worth through loyalty and action, rather than relying solely on my abilities."

Marcus's gaze held a sense of understanding. "And prove yourself you have."

As the realization sank in, (y/n) felt a weight lift from her shoulders. The Volturi kings accepted her not just for her bond to them, but for who she truly was. Her power was a part of her identity, and it was something she no longer needed to hide.

Aro's voice held a note of excitement. "Your power over fire will only enhance our family's strength. With your abilities, we are an unstoppable force."

Caius nodded, his tone resolute. "We will face any challenges that come our way, together."

Standing amidst the remnants of the battle, the Volturi kings and (y/n) looked to the horizon, their unity unbreakable. The flames that had once been her secret were now a symbol of her strength, their glow illuminating the path forward. As the night gave way to a new day, the legacy of the Volturi burned brighter than ever before.

As the Volturi kings and (y/n) discussed her newfound revelation of fire manipulation, the guards stood in the background, their expressions a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. Among them, Felix couldn't hold back his incredulous thoughts any longer.

His deep voice cut through the moment, and he spoke with a mixture of sarcasm and mock concern. "So, no one's going to talk about the fact that her powers are literal fire? Vampires fear fire, and she can literally burn us to dust and ash if she so feels like it."

A brief, awkward silence fell upon the group. Aro, Caius, and Marcus exchanged glances, their expressions a blend of amusement and understanding. (y/n) looked at them, her lips twitching as she fought to suppress a smile.

Aro finally spoke, his tone light yet carrying an air of assurance. "Felix, my dear guard, you bring up a valid point. However, I believe we can all trust (y/n)'s discretion in how she wields her power."

Caius's dry humor made an appearance as he added, "Indeed, I would prefer not to be turned to ash, should I accidentally upset her."

Marcus's gaze held a hint of mischief. "I suppose that's a mutual sentiment."

Felix blinked, caught off guard by the lack of surprise or panic in their responses. "Oh. Okay, then. I see how it is."

(y/n) couldn't help but chuckle at Felix's reaction. She stepped forward, her tone light. "Don't worry, Felix. I promise not to burn you to ash."

Felix raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a half-smile. "Appreciate that, (y/n). It's good to know our safety is a priority."

As the tension eased and laughter echoed through the hall, the Volturi guards and the kings shared a moment of camaraderie. (y/n)'s newfound ability had brought an unexpected twist to their dynamic, but they embraced it with the same unity that defined their coven.

Amidst the laughter and shared understanding, (y/n) felt a sense of belonging stronger than ever. Her fire was no longer a secret, but a source of strength that bound her even closer to the Volturi family. As the night gave way to the dawn, they stood together, ready to face whatever challenges the future might hold, fire and all.

[platonicreaderinsertfanfic]

Etho: Vampire Hunter AU (Reader-Insert)

Female reader.

Word count: 932

“You’re up late.” A low voice broke the silence of the night.

You looked up from your work maintaining the chapel’s pews. “Etho!” He looked tired, green and black clothes splattered with dark stains, cloak hanging off his body in ripped shreds, and reddish brown smeared all over his bare hand and forearm. 

Adjusting the mask covering the lower half of his face, he smiled with his eyes. “Sister.” Like all your friends, he called you by your title rather than your name—just as you preferred. As far as you were concerned, Sister was your name, not the pretentious mouthful assigned to you by the Church when you came here years ago. Hiding your identity was a drag, although preferable to being claimed by the powerful vampire queen who had marked you as a child.

“I take from the bloodstains all over your clothes, your hunt was successful?” Tossing your screwdriver onto the wooden pew beside where you were crouched, you leaned back to get a better look at your friend; it seemed none of the blood was his this time. Good.

He laughed, almost sounding embarrassed. “It doesn’t feel successful.”

“Rough kill?” You threw your long hair back over your shoulder, keeping it out of the way as you returned to work.

Running a blood smeared hand through his white hair, Etho’s mood darkened. “Even when I know my target has lived for over sixty years, and killed seventeen innocents, it’s not easy to drive a stake through the heart of a creature who looks like a ten year old girl…”

“The abbess always says you’re too kind for this work.” Picking up the screwdriver, you gave it a little flip in the air, catching it neatly. Gently running your left hand over the pile of screws, you grouped them as you counted in your head. 

Etho walked towards you. “Uh huhh. It’s hard to tell when she sends me out every week to kill monsters.” Sighing, he squeezed past your kneeling body to tiredly sink down onto the pew. “I shouldn’t have specialized in vampires.”

“Etho, don’t sit—!”

Splintering wood and the crash of ancient planks smacking beautiful tilework flooring interrupted your warning, as the pew gave way beneath him. “Ohhhhh.” He sounded pathetic as he lay on his back on the floor, gazing up at the decorative ceiling and gripping the pocket watch hanging from his belt. While you knew Etho must be a fierce and capable warrior, you found such an image hard to combine with the slightly hapless, and very nice guy, you had befriended over the years.

You groaned. “I had removed most of the screws attaching the seat to the end of the pew, so I could replace them with slightly wider screws, ‘cause the whole thing’s been getting loose, and had already been jury rigged before I ever came here…”

“Sorey.” His accent always came through when he apologized. “I’ll explain to the abbess it was my fault.”  

“Thanks.” Leaning back against the chapel wall, you mulled over how long it would take you to fix the pew, assuming you had the skill to properly fix something so old, delicate, and ornate—which you doubted.

“And speaking of the abbess, I got permission to take you with me on my next assignment.”

“Really?” At his words, all exasperation fled your body. Usually you were forbidden from leaving the abbey, on account of the mark on the back of your left hand. “Why?”

“You’re good at clerical work, right, Sister?”

You nodded eagerly as he continued.

“My target tonight had quite a library, and chests of saved correspondence. I needed someone to help me catalog all of it tomorrow, and since they made the mistake of letting me choose my own assistant…I chose you.” Propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes crinkled in a smile. “You do want to see more of the world, right? I don’t know why the abbess always keeps you cooped up in the church compound, but I figure I ought to show my friend a bit of the outside world if I can.”

Without thinking, you gripped the back of your left hand, imagining the green symbol on the other side of your half finger glove. “I’d love that.” 

Rising from the rather destroyed pew, which now littered the floor, Etho stretched. “I need to wash up. Wouldn’t want to talk to the abbess looking like this.” He pointed at you. “Now go get some sleep, we have a long day tomorrow.”

“You’re going to talk to the abbess now?”

“Some of us aren’t night owls by choice, Sister.” Etho chuckled. “If I have to work this late, she can wake up to talk to me in the middle of the night from time to time.”

Grateful for his friendship, and this opportunity to leave the abbey, you wanted to hug the lanky man before you, but decorum held you back. The last thing you had ever wanted was rumors of being romantically involved with anyone, and years of practicing such thinking left little room for nebulous gestures like hugs—no matter how platonically you intended them. “Hm, you’ve always had fun being a bit of a pain.”

“Just doing my job.” His smile shone through in his voice as you packed up your toolbox.

“See you tomorrow, Etho.”

With a jaunty little wave, he strode off, leaving you to wonder what the next day held.

[storiesbyrhi]

Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence, swearing, no beta, warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: When is a man, not a man?

1986

The elecampane was easy to find, but for the hawthorn less so. You had to spend the next day’s afternoon driving around Indiana looking for a store that might sell it. Eventually, a herbalist gave you the address of an off-the-grid botanist. They had all sorts of non-native species.

She had invited you into her house. “A witch is always welcome.”

You didn’t ask how she knew and she didn’t tell you. With hawthorn berries and spikes in hand, you drove back to Hawkins, arriving too late to cast any spell other than slumber. The bat would have to wait one more day.

The sun had barely begun to warm when the bat climbed onto your head and nipped at the tips of your ears. He wouldn’t be stopped, your attempts to swat him away failing.

“Alright, alright,” you said to him, sitting up. He flew circles around the room, then headed out the bedroom door and disappeared into the trailer.

The bat chittered at you as you started a fresh brew of coffee. “No,” you warned him, finger pointed like you were scolding a child. “Coffee first. Then witchcraft. They’re the rules.”

Coffee, a piece of toast, and you got to work.

“I’m kind of… winging it here,” you explained to the bat as you squashed hawthorn berries and elecampane petals with your mortar and pestle. “This has to have a healing base, because that’s where my strength is. And I’m going to try to tailor it to both animal and human… Since we don’t really know what you are.”

The bat had sat on your shoulder, his apparent favourite place.

“But we also need the magic to see the truth… In this case, the truth of what you are. Which is why we have these.” A small mirrored circular plate and a piece of sodalite.

“The hardest part is the spell itself, the words. But like Kelsey said, if our intention is set, then you know, we should be okay.” It was reassurance for the bat, but it helped you to say it out loud too, like a good luck omen.  

With the petals and berries, you mixed in a drop of witch’s blood harvested through the hawthorn plant’s sharpest thorn, some dried four-leaf-clovers for luck, moon water, honey, and some of the bat’s fur.

On the carpet of the trailer, you painted a devil’s trap. “Sorry,” you offered to the bat. “If this works too well, and it turns out you’re a demon that should not have been turned back, I need a safety net.”

At each point of the trap’s pentagram, you placed a candle. In the center, the small mirror. You took the potion and tinted the mirror’s surface, covering it entirely.

“You’re up,” you instructed. The bat glided down from his fridge-top perch onto the mirror. “Hold this.” His little claws curled around the sodalite.

You closed your eyes, focused your energy.

“Hear now the words of this witch,

secrets hidden in the night.

The oldest of Gods are evoked here;

the great work of magic is sought.

On this day and in this hour,

I call upon the ancient power.

The truth of this life is to be revealed,

And let the damage be healed.

So shall it be.”

You opened your eyes and gently pushed the bat backward off the mirror, but not out of the circle. As you wiped the potion off the surface, you repeated the final line of the spell twice more.

“So shall it be.

So shall it be.”

With trepidation, you closed your eyes again and in unsteady hands, you flipped the mirror so the bat’s image would be reflected at himself.

Only a second of silence, maybe less than, before a sharp and loud intake of breath forced your eyes open.

The bat was gone.

In his place, a man with pitch black eyes and wild waves of hair. He looked terrified. Disorientated.

You stared at each other and as you parted your lips to speak, his eyes darted to the door and he leaped for it.

“Wait!” you called after him. You followed him out the door but he was gone. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He couldn’t have gone far, you figured. He was naked and the trailer park was still packed with people.

You ran up and down roads and weaved between RVs. There was not only no sign of him but no sign that anybody else had seen him either. The surrounding woods were quiet and still. It was like the man had vanished into thin air.

When your search failed, you took to your car and spent a second hour looking for him. The only thing keeping you from all out panic was the fact that the man was not a demon; he’d passed through the devil's trap easily. At least you’d not brought more death and destruction to the town of Hawkins.

As you drove back to Forest Hills, you considered calling Kelsey and telling her your spell had worked. There was a nagging thought in the back of your mind though. Small but itchy. Whatever happened to the bat and the man, it wasn’t over. The circle had not come full.

…

The first thing he felt was hunger. Agony. Then he bolted and the sunlight outside your trailer burned. He moved too quickly for anyone to see, but he didn’t go far. He crawled under the trailer through a path cleared by raccoons and other animals.

It was dark but not enough. He dug at the dirt with clawed fingers, pushing the soil until he could burrow in and curl up. Motionless for hours, he searched his mind for any sort of explanation or sense of identity. There was nothing.

He didn’t know who he was. What he was. Vaguely, where. The same place he’d watched for all those years. When he was different. Smaller.

When the sun fell low in the sky, an old opossum trotted under your trailer. The man, entirely still, could hear its heartbeat. He listened as the animal sniffed around, its hairs bristling at the smell of raccoons. The opossum didn’t know it had been grabbed. The man moved too fast, breaking its bones and ripping it open to slurp at the blood inside.

He’d not been that kind of bat. He scared himself, his eyes wide as he looked down at the carnage. After, he crawled back into his hole, fated to repeat the murder with any living thing that found its way under the trailer.

…

“What were you doing yesterday, running around like a chicken with its head cut off?”

One of your neighbours was particularly… observant. When you got up first thing in the morning the next day, you did another lap of the trailer park. Still, no signs of the man. Just signs of you going mad, apparently.

“My, ah, cat… got out. Was looking for him,”

“Your cat?”

“My cat,”

“Michelle know you got a cat?”

“I don’t. Anymore.”

There was a three second stare-off, then you went on your way.

All day, while you helped make sandwiches and organise donations at Hawkins High, you half expected the man to show up. You kept glancing at the open doors, trying not to feel disappointed when it was a regular citizen looking for help.

It had been weeks since Vecna had opened the ground. Most people had either been moved to hospitals across the state and beyond, or had their smaller injuries attended to already. It left you with less healing to do, but your help was still welcomed.

Hawkins was through the worst of it, according to most people. You had to admit, it was calm. Perhaps too calm. You felt a sense of impending doom. Vecna would not go down without a fight, and you doubted the fight could be hidden from the townspeople entirely.

Still, you said nothing and did nothing. Healing Erica had already seen you cross a line. Maybe Hawkins was in the eye of the storm, but you couldn’t be the one to sound the alarm.

…

Scratching. Gentle at first, then claws against glass causing high pitch noises that made your body physically cringe. Awake, you sat and looked around the dark room. What time was it? Scratching. Scratching. Window.

The bat was at the window.

“What the fuck?” You hurried out of bed and pushed the window up, letting the creature into your house. “Are you…” When you opened your palms, he landed on them. It was most definitely him. “Fuck! Okay… Okay… Fuck.”

…

1836

“Those are not your apples,” you stated.

The boy spun on the spot, his hair whipping around. It was rare for anyone to sneak up on him. He grinned, all teeth and menace.

“Are they yours?” he countered.

Not a boy, you noted. A man. Young, but old enough to know better.

“No,”

“Then I won’t tell if you don’t.” He tossed the apple up in the air, catching it with ease. He put it in a sack that sat at his feet. There were a lot of things in there that were not his.

“I do not agree to that.”

He picked up the sack and slung it over his shoulder, moving closer to you. You stood your ground, entirely unafraid. Up close, the moonlight reflected in his eyes, which were as dark as the night sky itself.

“Then name your price,” he said, head falling lopsided dramatically, playfully.

The man was beautiful. Maybe, in all your years of living, he was the most beautiful human you’d seen. There was something about him. It wasn’t just that his beauty was disarming. His long hair was not common for men of the era. His skin looked soft too, like he came from royalty rather than the families that tended to the fields and fought in the wars.

It was when he took one more step toward you that you both figured it out.

The man’s easy expression dropped, a suspicious and cruel looking one taking its place. He made a hiss-like sound and let go of the sack of stolen things. He crouched low to the ground.

“Witch,” he spat.

You held your reaction in with far more grace than him. “Are you alone?” you asked him, voice measured.

He did not answer.

“Or, are there more of you?”

You took a step closer to him and leaned down to pick up an apple that had rolled from the sack. You took a bite without breaking eye contact. He stayed frozen to the spot as you chewed slowly and swallowed.

“My name is Amabel,” you told him. “And this land is not mine, but nor is it yours. My coven has dominion here. Make no mistake, we will protect this land. We will protect every human on it.”

The man’s eyes narrowed at the mention of humans. He stood, sure you weren’t offering violence in that first meeting.

“What was your name before? And what will it be after Amabel?” It was not what you were expecting him to say. “Is that not what you do?” he continued. “Live among the humans, love them, watch them die, then start all over again?” You couldn’t tell if he was taunting you or genuinely asking. His tone was far more disarming than his beauty had been. “Do you not feel alone?”

Your lips parted and your eyes glassed over. He’d trapped you in a truth and to what end, you didn’t know.

A dog’s bark cut through the silence, and you briefly looked out beyond the apple orchard, then back. He was gone.

…

1986

“So shall it be.

So shall it be.

So shall it be.”

If the spell worked a second time, it would likely be of short-term effect yet again. You said as much to the bat, but as he returned on his own, you drew the conclusion he was still looking for help. The spell a second time was all you could offer immediately.

As you held the mirror up, eyes closed, you whispered, “Please don’t run. Please.”

All was silent. You were almost too scared to open your eyes, but you’d not heard the trailer door slam. He was still there.

You both searched each other’s eyes for recognition or explanation or anything even vaguely familiar. Perfect strangers, you thought. Imperfect circumstances.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, still whispering. “I’m sorry it didn’t… work… completely. I can figure this out.”

The man said nothing, tearing his gaze from you to look around the trailer. You watched him for a few seconds more before standing. The man flinched at the movement.

“It’s okay! It’s okay. I’m going to get you something to wear.”

You didn’t have a lot of spare clothes, but one of your old t-shirts would work, and some sweatpants that absolutely would not fit properly.

He was still sitting in the center of the devil’s trap when you walked back out from your bedroom. He took the clothes from your outstretched hands, and you hoped he knew what to do with them.

You turned to the kitchenette, pouring a glass of water with your back to him while he stood up and dressed.

You turned and held the glass out to him. He took it. He looked awkward, skittish. Very much like a bat turned human. Fascinated at his general weirdness, you watched him take a sip and hold the water in his mouth. He looked panicked, yet he swallowed. Almost immediately he started to cough, then he threw the water back up onto your kitchen floor.

“It’s okay,” you tried to reassure him. He was staring down at the liquid, brows pulled together.

In the two seconds it took to grab a cloth from the kitchen sink, the man was gone. The trailer door swung wide open.

You sighed but decided to not go after him. All in all, you considered what happened as progress.

…

The smell was putrid. It seemed both obscene and histrionic to have piled all the corpses in the middle of the road.

For two days in a row, dead raccoons, opossums, cats, and dogs had been found. They’d been attacked, but not really eaten. The residents and guests of Forest Hills were concerned. They were already dealing with so much, and now a rabid animal?

You stood with a few neighbours, watching Michelle boss around a couple of teenage boys, making them find all the corpses.

“Lot of them under your trailer,” she’d said, nodding at you.

“Under it?”

“Yep. Got it boarded up but the little bastards always find a way under there. Lot of room between the trailer and the ground. You don’t hear them?”

You shook your head.

Michelle shrugged. “I’ll get one of the boys to come patch the holes.”

When you’d conversed with neighbours about the horror of it all for an appropriate amount of time, you excused yourself and hurried to inspect your trailer. Around the back, behind some trash cans, you found the hole.

On your hands and knees, you peered into the crawl space. Sitting in the dirt and mud were some clothes. You didn’t need to go any further to know they were yours.

There was a word on the tip of your tongue but you didn’t dare speak it because it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be. He wasn’t a demon, but maybe…

No. No, they had been eradicated. The species itself extinct. You’d had a hand in it yourself. There was simply no way.

Back inside your trailer, you paced from the bedroom to the lounge and back again.

Why were you in Hawkins?

What had been calling you there?

A wounded creature?

An enemy in disguise?

Had it all been a trap? A trick. A rouse to bring back the only thing you’d ever truly feared.

You cycled through options. Call Kelsey. Automatic writing to seek guidance from The Witches Who Came Before. Bite the metaphorical bullet and tell your coven what exactly you had done. Run away from Hawkins and pretend none of it had happened.

Sitting on the couch you buried your face in your hands.

No. No, you would not run. You would stay on the path you'd chosen for yourself. You would see this thing through. If a group of children could fight an impossible battle somewhere in an Upside Down Hawkins, you could right this wrong. Whatever that meant.

End Note: Don't forget to visit the Grimoire and timeline! I am so excited to bring you to the 1836 events...

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