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robertsmithclone · 1 year

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I Wait For You (Its What I Do)

Xavier Thorpe x Female Original Character (Sade Ricci)

Sade Ricci’s fangs just came in two weeks into the school year, so that means a transfer to Nevermore academy. (Does not follow show plot)

2k words (part two)

TW: referenced eating disorders, mentions of blood, arguing, cigarettes, pills, light sexual themes

Posting to Ao3 under wonde_rr and Wattpad under SHADYGROVEE

Playlist : it’s in the works

chapter two masterlist

translations at the end

After a blood pill and a couple painkillers, Sade walked out her door to find Rowan standing there, waiting.

“Rowan? Why are you here?” She asked skeptically. It wasn’t like she needed a stalker on her hands.

“Principal Weems’ orders. We have the same first period and I was told to walk you there.” He smiled at her slightly and cleared his throat. “You missed breakfast.”

Something told Sade that it was not in fact Principal Weems’ orders, but rather Rowan’s own agenda. She liked Rowan, but this was slightly odd.

“Okay, ragazzo carino. Where are we off to?” She grinned at him, fangs on display.

“History of Magical Beings. Would you like me to carry your bag?” Rowan questioned, starting to walk with Sade following. There was a light blush on his cheeks.

“That’s okay, tesoro. You’re too sweet to me.” In reality Sade thought he was slightly too sweet, but his sentiment was nice…sort of. It was more suspicious than anything.

They made their way to the classroom, Sade taking the seat next to Rowan. She pictured sinking her fangs into his soft skin and tasting his blood in front of everyone. Rowan was talking to her, but she couldn’t hear him. Xavier and Enid had just walked into the room and Sade almost fainted at the overwhelming scent combination of Rowan's blood and Xavier’s. She didn’t feel this way yesterday, why now?

Xavier smiled at her, as did Enid, and they took their seats a row back.

“Sade, are you okay?”

She turned to look at Rowan, who had a very concerned look on his face.

“Huh? Oh yes, I think I just took the wrong dosage of blood pills this morning…” Her attention was again taken away from Rowan as the teacher started his lesson.

——

When lunch came, Sade made the excuse of needing to grab something from her dorm- where she hid for the rest of lunch.

It was peaceful for the first fifteen minutes, until she heard the knock.

Getting up from her cozy bay window seat and stamping out her cigarette, she opened the door to see Enid standing there with a smile on her face.

“Heeey, Sade. I just came to get you— to come back to lunch of course!” The girl was bright, even in her purple and black uniform. She radiated a positive light.

Sade coughed, smoke still being present in the room. “Um, that’s okay, Enid. Thanks though.”

Enid’s smile faltered slightly. “But you haven’t even had anything to eat! Have you tried the chocolate muffins? They’re really good!”

“It’s okay, just vampire stuff, you know?” Sade lied, just trying to get Enid off her back.

“Not to be rude, but I know vampires that eat all three meals.” The blonde girl looked more serious now.

The vampire smiled, very tight lipped. “We’re all different!”

“Just come, you can't sit in here alone for the next hour anyways.” Enid smiled again, looking at Sade determinedly.

“Fine.” She finally gave in, realizing Enid wasn’t going to give this up.

——

Enid took back her place at their picnic table next to the lake beside Wednesday, Sade sliding in at the end next to Xavier.

“You did come back,” Yoko smiled at the vampire, breaking her usually stoic expression.

“I was coerced by your one and only, Miss invadente.” Sade nodded to Enid.

“Call her that again and I will rip your fingernails off.” Wednesday stared right at her, with a plain expression on her face. “It may be true, but you don’t get to use their lack of knowledge about your native language to insult people.”

Sade didn’t know what to do, everyone was looking at her now, confused on what she said. Enid looked hurt.

“I called her pushy lightheartedly, Wednesday. You can understand a completely different language but are completely tone deaf? How peculiar.” Her red eyes stared piercingly at Wednesday, like daggers. She turned to Enid. “Stella luminosa, I’m sorry if I offended you.”

Sade glanced at Rowan who looked somewhat indifferent, and then to Xavier who was looking to Wednesday, with a slightly angered expression on his face. Of course he’d be looking at her. Who wouldn’t? She thought she and Wednesday would make good friends, but maybe she was wrong.

The vampire got up and walked away, without saying bye to anyone. Maybe it wasn’t just Wednesday whom she didn’t fit with. Perhaps Rowan’s group just wasn’t for her. That left her alone again. Sade thought that at this point she was destined to have no friends—the universe wanted her to be alone. So be it. Wednesday was probably right anyways.

She had too much baggage for friends. It was better this way, to just distance herself completely. Forget about Xavier, Rowan, all of them. Sade had herself, and that was all she really needed, right?

——

Xavier was the first to speak after Sade had gone. “Are you kidding me, Wednesday?” He looked at her like she was crazy. “Sade‘s never gonna want to stay friends with us now.”

“Calm down Xavier, she’ll apologize later. Right, Wednesday? I wasn’t offended, I can be pushy sometimes, you even said it yourself.” There was a sliver of hurt in Enid’s voice.

Wednesday looked around the table. “Perhaps. It seems she’s getting you off my back, Xavier. It’ll be good to have her around, but I cannot condone her ignorance.”

“If it was any other one of us you wouldn’t have batted an eye, Wednesday!” Xavier was annoyed—or frustrated now. To him, the emotionless girl was out of line. He couldn’t believe he had harbored stronger feelings for her just a couple months ago.

Wednesday just stared at the boy, not seeming to care. She was selfish, sure, but she cared about Enid more than anyone.

Yoko, Rowan, and Ajax had been quiet the entire time, not sure how to react.

“So you’re just gonna stare at me? What is with you?” Xavier was still in disbelief of Wednesday’s words, or lack thereof.

“…I’m gonna go see Divina…” Yoko said with a slight sense of urgency in her voice. The vibe had gotten too out of tune with her own, so she got up and left.

Enid sighed. “Look, Wednesday and I will go. We can figure this out later when everyone cools down.” With one last look at Xavier, she got up and tugged Wednesday along with her back to their dorm.

Xavier rolled his eyes, resting his head in his hand, a sour look on his face.

“Don’t worry about it, dude. You know how Wednesday gets.” Ajax had spoken up, glancing at Rowan.

“Yeah, Xavier. Sade won’t be driven away by something so small.” Rowan said, although his voice sounded unsure. They barely knew the mysterious vampire girl, so as of right now she was unpredictable.

Xavier sighed, standing up. “I’m going to my shed for the rest of lunch.” He walked away from his best friends, basically ignoring what they had said.

Ajax and Rowan looked at each other, shaking their heads and sighing.

——

Xavier paced his shed, looking at the painting of Sade. The vibrant red of her eyes paired with the look of pleasure he had painted was intoxicating.

It was late now, his classes having gone by slowly. He had started sketching the painting during lunch and couldn’t wait to get back to it once his classes were over. The only good thing about them was that he got to sketch Sade, having more to go off of.

The mental agony from trying not to bring the painting to life was taxing, but he knew if he did there was no going back. Restraint was something he practiced often.

The music playing from his phone—a mix of Chase Atlantic and the Weeknd—was not necessarily helping with his restraint, but it seemed to be making the painting even more perfect. The flush on her cheeks, the blood stained on her fangs and lips—Xavier would kill to see her like this in real life.

As he was painting in her collarbones, he heard a crash outside the shed followed by a string of Italian curses. Xavier almost laughed, wondering what the girl he was painting was doing in the woods on a Monday night, and picturing her falling like he assumed she had just done.

He turned the canvas around to face the back wall of the shed, before walking outside to find Sade not too far away on the ground, bruises already formed on her knees. Was she seriously that fragile?

“Sade?”

She whipped her head over to him, a horrified look on her face. “Xavier?”

He grinned and walked over. “Need some help?”

That was how she ended up on the small mattress in his shed, holding her knees. Xavier looked the girl over a couple times. She looked amazingly small, and not in a good way.

“What are you even doing out here, anyways?” He asked, sitting on the stool beside his desk.

She looked embarrassed, wondering how to explain herself. “Sometimes blood pills aren’t enough.” was all she said, and Xavier understood.

“Do you often go out hunting in your uniform skirt and shirt, seeing how rumpled and dirty they were now after her fall.”

Sade gave him the middle finger and sighed.

“So…are you gonna like, bite me now since you have me all alone and cornered?” He was joking, but part of him almost wouldn’t mind being drained of his blood if it was by her hands.

She smiled lightly and shook her head. “Don’t give me ideas, Thorpe.”

Xavier couldn’t take his eyes away from her. She was enchanting. Was Sade really all it took to get over a certain dark haired girl?

“Is this your…art shed?” She questioned, looking around at all the sketches and painting on the walls and easels.

“Yeah, actually. I had found and cleaned it up so Weems let me have it for myself.” He nodded, looking around it himself.

Xavier picked up his sketchbook, flipping to a picture of a landscape with mountains, a lake, clouds, the whole ordeal. He moved to sit on the mattress at the end of her feet. She was vertical as he sat only on the edge.

The artist sat the sketchbook down and Sade looked at it curiously before he started to make it come to life, the clouds and water moving along with a small deer walking through the scene. A look of wonder and amazement came across the vampire’s face as she watched it unfold.

Xavier was watching her the whole time. “Cool, right?”

“Sorprendente, Xavier.” She was slightly breathless and Xavier knew he would never get tired of hearing his name on her red lips.

“I think I’m gonna have to make an effort to learn some Italian, huh?” He smiled at her softly.

Sade looked up at him, almost confused. “That won’t be necessary…I don’t exactly fit into your group. It is just by chance that we’ve met here tonight.”

Now Xavier looked confused. “Is this about Wednesday? I hope you know we think she was out of place for that. Or, at least I do.” He sighed and looked away, shutting his sketchbook. “Enid wants her to apologize.”

The vampire shook her head. “I don’t want to cause trouble.”

He looked back to her quickly, even more confused. “You could never, Sade. Wednesday is just protective and slightly selfish. If you said it about anyone but Enid she wouldn’t have cared.”

Sade still looked unsure. “I just want to do what’s best for everyone.”

“Maybe it's best for them- but not me, I…” Xavier trailed off. Was he seriously about to say he needed her? “I just mean that it’s not best for anyone. We want you around.” He looked her in the eye.

Sade almost attacked his neck right then and there, the smell of his blood felt more prominent when he was riled up.

“I’m not entirely…convinced, but perhaps I will try again. I suppose it was only really the second time being around you all.” She looked at him almost desperately for reassurance, as if his previous statements weren’t enough.

“Exactly. I promise you Wednesday is going to try and do better from now on.”

Sade looked away from Xavier. “Well I wasn’t entirely in the right either…”

Xavier shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Wednesday reacted badly. Let’s just forget about it.”

They were both silent and the forgotten music was the only sound filling the room.

——

translations:

ragazzo carino - pretty boy

tesoro - sweetheart

invadente - pushy

Stella luminosa - bright star

Sorprendente - amazing

tags: @solacestyles

#Spotify #xavier thorpe #wednesday netflix #xavier thorpe x female oc #xavier thorpe x oc #xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday fanfic #wednesday addams #fanfic #enid sinclair #rowan laslow #ajax petropolus #vampire #yoko #wednesday #wenclair #yoko tanaka

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mortemersgf · 10 months

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headcanons for female!mc who's actually just a normal human dating Adrian from BB?

also i hope college is doing well <3

a/n: ty for the request and ur well wishes anon <3 !! so sorry this came out so late :’((

- in the beginning, adrian was reluctant to pursue MC romantically. the world of vampires is dangerous and seedy, and he’d never forgive himself if he were to put his lover in a position where she could get hurt because of him.

- naturally, he goes to kamilah for advice. it’s apparent from the way he talks about MC that he’s serious about her. this is the first woman in god-knows-how-long who’s made him feel like he could love again.

- kamilah neither discourages or encourages the relationship, leaving the choice to adrian. she echoes his worries, reminding him of the potential trouble that a human knowing his true nature could bring. however, she also trusts his ability to keep his partner safe, as well as his judgment.

- adrian has a lot of things to mull over, but he takes care to not grow distant from MC.

- dinner dates are very common. whether it be at a swanky restaurant, adrian’s penthouse suite, or MC’s homey apartment—they always have a nice time enjoying each other’s company.

- it’s an intimate affair, especially if they’re cooking together. too often, they wind up messing up the dinner because they keep distracting each other and having to order takeout instead, which no one protests against.

- one night, adrian just decides to do it. he’s tired of making excuses about why they can’t have a picnic date under the afternoon sun or why he tastes like copper when they kiss sometimes.

- “i’m a vampire,” he says.

- and MC goes, “i kind of figured.”

- see, MC isn’t a vampire herself, but lily, her best friend is. so, MC knows a thing or two about them.

- “do you still want to be with me?” adrian asks. “even after knowing everything?” in that moment, waiting for MC’s answer, he’s extremely glad humans don’t possess enhanced senses like vampires do, or MC’s gonna hear his heart thundering in his chest.

- MC frowns, finding his question insanely foolish. she cups adrian’s face. “of course i still want to be with you. i would’ve bolted a long time ago if i wasn’t absolutely sure i wanted you in my life. we’re in this together now.”

- a giant weight lifts off of adrian’s shoulder.

- from that point on, they’re nothing but honest with each other. there’s no more secrets to keep.

- though… adrian still takes immense care to keep MC away from the vampire world. he tells her little of the council, and MC knows not to prod. they’re content like this.

- MC is just as protective of adrian. she puts up blackout curtains all over her place, exhorts him to not overwork, and offers to be his blood bag if he needs it. adrian always ensures to pepper her neck with extra kisses after feeding, which makes her squirm and laugh.

- it’s no secret adrian is loaded, so he spoils MC rotten whenever opportunity presents itself. trust MC has the most sumptuous anniversary gifts, ranging from antique rings to gorgeous lingerie sets.

- gift giving is nice, but nothing compares to quality time in their eyes. late-night boat rides along the grand canal, sight-seeing in paris, cuddling in a forest lodge… they’ve done it all.

- all in all, their relationship is very stable. adrian does worry, at times, regarding what could happen if the council caught wind that he has a human lover, but MC is quick to quell his concerns. they have each other and they’ll face it together. what matters is the present.

#choices #playchoices #bloodbound #adrian raines #choices adrian #request

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yesitsmewhataboutit · 2 years

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Shoto Todoroki

<- Back To Character List

<-<- Back To Masterlist

Fic’s labeled “special” mean they’re part of a Collab and/or over 4k words

Timestamp:

10:23 am > Todoroki needing cuddles early in the morning

4:32 pm > You have a weird dream while cuddling with Todoroki

10:37 pm > Cuddling with Shoto while on vacation with your kids

6:31 am > Todoroki brings you back to sleep

4:56 am > Todoroki has a panic attack due to a loud noise startling him

9:03 am > You wake up from a bad dream and Shoto helps you

6:43 am > Fluffy tired morning talk with Shoto

Oneshots-

Sfw:

Sfw Alphabet

-> Self explanatory

Late Night

-> Endeavor being a hoe and Shoto needs comfort

Hurtful Words

-> Shoto says some things he regrets *request*

Sick Day

-> Self explanatory

Auntie Flow

-> Reader on her period *request*

Cancellation

Reader cancels plans to cuddle *request*

Morning After

-> Self explanatory *request*

Connection (Special)

-> You were a song writer. You had your heart broken, you were broken, but then he came along, his voice put you in a trance, and suddenly, you weren’t so lonely anymore

Unbelievable (Special)

-> You have to choose. You have to choose between the man you were with, and the man you dreamed of being with for years. But who would you choose…. How would you chose?

[Untitled Request]

-> Showering with Shoto after a long day

First Time For Everything(Mob Au) (Special)

-> Todoroki’s first time in a airport and on a regular plane

The Girl(Mob Au)

-> How did reader and mafia shouto start dating (maybe a drabble or one shot, how they met, first date, how he asked reader out or how did reader ask him out;)))) *request*

A Day Out

-> A picnic date with Shoto

Patrol

-> You get hurt while out on patrol *request*

Intimacy

-> A chill morning with you and Shoto. However, you forget you’re having company. Spoiler alert: you guys like to cuddle naked

Anything For You(Omegaverse) Part 2 - Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind

-> Your alpha is sick and you find out exactly what happened *request*

Dramatic Irony(Omegaverse) (Special)

-> You’re new to the castle. You’re a servant and have to learn all the things all the other omegas already know about. Like the fact of how nice, usually, the Prince is, and all the things he does for the omegas. But sometimes no matter what someone may think or want, feelings always lead you in the direction you’ll actually go

Rain, Rain, Go Away

-> Maybe you can do a fic of todoroki x reader where todoroki has a fear of thunderstorms.. cuz u know loud noises and all that. So reader comforts Todoroki. Just like a really fluffy fic *request*

Bloodlust

-> You’re leaving for a week. You and Shoto come up with a plan on how he’ll survive while you’re gone, but things don’t always go as planned

Assistance(Omegaverse)

-> Alpha’s are so stubborn when they’re hurt. And this one is being exceptionally more stubborn then usual

Nsfw:

Nsfw Alphabet

-> Self explanatory

Be Gentle(Vampire)

-> You don’t know your crush is a vampire, but he’s fond of you, and he gets addicted to your blood

Distraction

-> Shoto isn’t giving you enough attention, so you find a way to get attention while he works

Learning

-> You teach Todoroki to masturbate

Packing

-> You hate packing. So shoto comes to help you, and finds a few interesting things in your dresser

Apology

-> You safeword with Todoroki *request*

Desperation

-> Todoroki gets hit with a sex pollen quirk. That calm cool and collected husband? Yeah he’s gone

-> Self explanatory *request*

Best Day Ever

-> You and Shoto’s first time *request*

Attempt. Never Again(No Nut November)

Shoto attempts nnn *request*

The Shirt

“Property of Shoto Todoroki” *thirst based*

Assurance

-> Shoto helps you feel better about yourself and your quirk, and confesses a few things in the process *request*

[Untitled Request]

-> Shoto with a mommy kink

Misunderstanding (Special)

-> Todoroki gets roped into a family dinner. Somehow you get roped in too

[Untitled Request]

-> Could you do a scenario for the rest of 1A finding out that Shoto and his s/o are having sex? Like someone walks in on them or one of them casually mentions they are going out to buy condoms

Vacation(Omegaverse) (Special)

-> A group of alphas, betas, and omegas go on a trip and all stay in a vacation house. No work scheduled, and no upcoming ruts or heats. What could go wrong? A lot actually

He Teaches You How To Touch Him

-> First time giving him blowjob and handjob

[Untited Request]

-> First time not using a condom with him

UA Days

-> You and Shoto are looking at old photos when he sees you in your old UA uniform, remembering how cute you always looked. So you decide to give him a surprise *request*

Good Morning

-> You just really wanna suck Shoto’s dick

[Untitled Request]

-> Somo cockwarming

Event-

Piss Kink

Breeding Kink

Breastfeeding Kink

<- Back To Character List

<-<- Back To Masterlist

#shoto todoroki #shoto smut #shoto comfort #shoto fluff #todoroki smut #todoroki comfort #todoroki fluff

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raindancer2004 · 3 years

Text

House Rules

Word Count: 2,241 Demetri x reader Oneshot Warnings: Fluff, a little NSFW

The idea for this one came from a post of @wallwriterstuff & the conversation that followed with @volturidoll13

Demetri met Y/N when he met Gianna after one of the Art classes, she took on a Thursday night. Aro didn’t like the idea of Gianna walking home alone in the dark and had asked Demetri to go meet her. He knew Y/N was his mate the moment he saw her; his throat burned at the smell of her blood but the need to taste her was overruled by his desire to protect her. Y/N was attracted to him the moment she saw him. He had given her a warm smile and his voice had made her weak in the knees. He walked her home that night too; in fact, every Thursday night he walked Y/N home before he and Gianna continued on their way to the castle.

Demetri had taken Y/N out on a few dates before telling her that he was a vampire and she was his mate, his one true love “So you mean I’m the key to your ‘happily ever after’?” She asked and he chuckled “Yes, exactly” He replied smiling at her “Ooh I don’t know Demetri…forever is such a long time. What if I get bored of you?” He knew she was teasing him but feigned offense anyway, his hand going to his unbeating heart “You wound me, Y/N” She laughed a little “I’m sure someone as old and strong as you will survive” She gave him a wink, he growled low and replied “I would never get bored of you nor would I ever allow you to get bored of me” One of his hands moved up her thigh, his little finger brushed her clothed centre as he nibbled her ear before placing a kiss below it, she bit her lip to supress a moan escaping them. He smiled against her skin “I can’t wait till you’re beneath me and I can hear all those little noises you’re going make whilst I’m inside you” He whispered “Me neither…but I don’t have sex on a third date” She whispered back “You’re sure about that? I can tell you’re aroused” He replied low “You’re not playing fair…Vampire” She breathed the last word and tapped his nose “I never said I would sweetheart” He kissed her cheek “Come on. I’ll take you home” He added and helped her with her coat.

A month later Demetri moved Y/N into the castle with him, excited that he was finally getting to live with his mate. Y/N was amazed by the size of Demetri’s quarters and liked the natural colour scheme of the room, a blood red rug in front of the fireplace accentuated the room.

“I need to discuss some things with you now that you’re living with me” Demetri said taking her hands in his “Ok, I’m all ears” She smiled at him “House rules; 1. Every other Wednesday between 12 and 2pm, please do not leave our quarters as it’s ‘tour’ day. The next ‘tour’ is this Wednesday” “Ahh, yes. Human take out day. I’ll be sure to stay here” She replied “2. Please do not leave the castle without me or Gianna with you. I need to know you’re safe” She nodded “Only the two rules?” She teased “3. Trouserless Tuesdays, where pants are optional” Demetri says, winking at her “By optional you mean it’s negotiable?” She asked “No. It’s not negotiable. As I said pants are optional on Trouserless Tuesdays” He smiled at her and she shook her head “You’re terrible” “Maybe, but I’m all yours” He replied and kissed her.

“Are you ready for family movie night?” Demetri called out “Yep. Whenever you are” She replied walking out of the walk-in closet dressed in her ‘Tinkerbell’ pyjamas and a pair of Giraffe slippers “What the F…” He trails off as he eyes her from head to toe “Are you wearing those downstairs?” “If you don’t accept me wearing my Disney pyjamas and giraffe slippers, then I’ve agreed to be railed by the wrong vampire for all eternity” She responded, Demetri’s mouth dropped open in shock. He shook his head and moved to stand in front of her “I accept you, no matter what you wear mi amore” He replied and captured her lips in a sweet kiss. “So, what’s this about agreeing to be railed by a vampire for all eternity?” He asked, one eyebrow raised “I thought that was part of the ‘mate’ package you offered me. Was I wrong?” She replied looking up at him through her lashes as she took her bottom lip between her teeth. He growled low and deep, his thumb removing her lip from her teeth as he captured her lips with his in a passionate kiss. “You weren’t wrong, I just don’t remember using that phrase” “Well, you are getting on a bit. I hear memory problems are common with the…ancient” She whispered the last word, teasing him again. He chuckled and scooped her up and put her over his shoulder and slapped her ass “Ooh” He dropped her carefully onto the bed and climbed on top of her, propping his weight on his elbows and rolled his hips against her, the button of his jeans rubbing her clit. “You should respect your elders, young one” He replied and kissed her again “And if I don’t?” She bit his bottom lip “I could make you” He bit her lip in return “That sounds like it could be fun…oh ancient one” She replied smiling at him “Is that my new nickname?” “Yep, seeing as you called me young one” “You started it sweetheart” He smiled and rolled off her and kissed her cheek “We’ll finish this later” He said and smacked her ass as she got off the bed “Counting on it” She turned and blew him a kiss.

He went into the closet to change into a pair of lounge pants and a t-shirt. “Come on movie night’s about to start and you old people have trouble staying awake the later it gets” She called over her shoulder, smirking “Kids today. They have no respect. I blame the parents” He retorted with a smirk on his own.

He took her hand in his and they made their down to the family room ready for movie night “What are those on your feet?” Felix asked shocked as Y/N and Demetri sat beside him on the sofa “Felix meet Eddie and Annie” She replied and wiggled her feet, Felix laughed “Y-you named th-them?” “Don’t laugh at her” Demetri warned him “But she named her slippers D” Felix continued to laugh “Felix” He growled low “I think it’s endearing” Demetri added and wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close “Just ignore him, we do” Alec called out as she snuggled into Demetri’s side.

Y/N decided to buy Demetri a present and gave them to him upon his return from a two-day mission “Welcome home Dem. I’ve missed you” She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck “I’ve missed you too sweetheart” Demetri replied, kissing her. “I’ve got you a gift” She led him over to the sofa and handed him a large gift bag. He opened the gift bag and removed a box, lifting the lid revealed a pair of Wolf slippers “I’ve even named them for you ‘Fang and Hunter’” She smiled at him, he smiled back at her, although he seemed nervous “You don’t like them Dem?” She asked “It’s not that. I love them thank you. It’s just vampires and Wolves don’t really get along” He replied “Oh, Oh…sorry I-I didn’t know. I just thought as Wolves are predators and you’re a predator, they’d be perfect” She apologised and seemed sad “Oh no, sweetheart. It’s ok really but Master Caius will have my head if he sees me in these!" He replied and pulled her onto his lap, holding her close and kissing her cheek.

Demetri decided he’d wear his slippers around his room, that way Y/N was happy and Caius couldn’t kill him. Y/N took pictures of him in his new Wolf slippers on her phone as well as a few of them together in their slippers “We’re making memories Demi” She smiled at him and he melted inside as he enjoyed making memories with her, even if some are a little silly.

“House Rule Number 4. We only wear our animal slippers in our room” Demetri tells her as he looks into her eyes “Ok, that sounds good…something just for us” She agreed and kissed him. He liked that he had made her smile and that she understood that the new house rule meant they were keeping something as innocent as Wolf slippers a secret from Caius.

However, Demetri became a little stressed at the situation he found himself in because the love of his immortal life had bought him a gift; one which he loved and seeing that noone had ever bought him a gift before, they meant something to him but the problem was if anyone knew the Wolf slippers existed and Caius found out, he would surely torture him in some way.

Felix entered Demetri’s room one evening to see the couple sitting on the sofa watching a movie in their pyjamas and slippers. “Not you too D?” Felix asked as he sat on the other sofa “Y/N got them for me and they’re quite comfortable actually” Demetri replied waving his feet about “Did you name them too?” Felix’s tone was a teasing one “No, I named them before I gave them to him” Y/N responded and Felix started laughing, so much so Y/N thought he may actually wet himself “You tell anyone Fe & I’ll kill you” Felix nodded but continued to laugh.

Y/N enjoyed living with her vampire mate as there was never a dull moment in the castle especially with Demetri to keep her company. She enjoyed the sunset picnics on the castle roof, the shared bubble baths and showers as they always led to something more. Date nights were always fun no matter who planned them.

The masters needed Demetri to track a coven in England and Caius made a special trip to the tracker’s room. He knocked on the door and entered “Good evening Demetri” “Good evening master” He replied and bowed “I need you to track that small coven in England” Demetri concentrated for a moment before replying “They are currently in Oxford, master.” Caius nodded “Thank you but I must ask what on earth are those on your feet?” He asked “Y/N bought me the Wolf slippers as a gift, she owns Giraffe ones” Dem replied “I know, I’ve seen hers but why would she buy you Wolf slippers?” Caius asked “Wolves are predators and I am a predator and she thought they’d be perfect” Dem responded, Caius nodded “I understand but I’m not sure I like them though. They are not to be worn around the castle” “Yes master” Demetri agreed, knowing he had no plans to do so. “Nice pyjamas” Caius smirked when he saw Y/N leave the bathroom in Beige pyjamas with Cocktail Glasses and Palm Trees on, that just so happened to match Demetri’s “Thank you Caius, they’re known ‘couple pyjamas.’ It allows couples to wear matching nightwear” Y/N responded and bowed her head a little. Caius found it amusing that the World’s Best Tracker and his human mate wore matching pyjamas. ‘How sweet’ he thought to himself.

Caius decided to punish Demetri in an interesting way after he discovered Demetri’s Wolf slippers. Demetri was over 1000 years old and found himself ‘grounded’ and ‘remanded’ to his shared room with Y/N for one week. “Use this upcoming week to bond more with Y/N” “I will thank you” Demetri replied, Caius smiled and left the room.

The week Demetri spent in his room with Y/N was one of the best weeks of his life, that Demetri could recall; they did become closer, their bond strengthening as a result. They binged watched TV shows and films and well as reading silently on their own or sometimes aloud to each other. They also spent many intimate moments together, neither one able to get enough of the other.

“It’s Tuesday why are you wearing trousers? Have you forgotten House Rule number 3?” Demetri asked as Y/N walked out of the bathroom “I remember House Rule number 3 and these are not trousers. These are Capri Pants” She replied smiling & twirling “Pants? What the EVER-loving hell are those?” Demetri says as he looks at her “Panties, I’ve heard of those. Yours are currently on our bedroom floor…” He winked and nodded over his shoulder “…But pants? Never heard of them” “So, that’s where my panties went?” She replied, winking at him and he growled at her. Before she knew what was happening, he was in front of her and she felt him tear her pants off “Hey” She cried out “Trouserless Tuesday” He replied and gestured to his naked lower half before pushing her against the wall; lifting her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he entered her in one slow long stroke “Ahh…” She breathed “See, this is why we have House Rule number 3” He continued to thrust in and out of her slowly, making love to her “Oh, unrestricted access to one another?” He nodded at her “I think Tuesdays may just be my favourite day of the week” She added with a wink “Mine too sweetheart. Mine too.”

#demetri volturi #jane volturi #felix volturi #alec volturi #aro volturi #caius volturi #marcus volturi #volturi #twilight #oneshot #demetri x reader

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cuddly-dean-baby · 3 years

Note

Can you do a Jo x male reader (platonic) where the male reader is a seer and him and jo hunt together. Basically Dean and Sam need Jo’s help so she brings you along and the brother’s (or mainly Dean) are cautious around the reader because of his abilities so the reader just walks out of them during a hunt then the hunt goes south, the reader senses it and comes to the rescue (just some angst with a happy ending lol)

I hope you enjoy this fic!

Dean’s Seer

Spinning slightly on the stool at the bar, you watch Jo clean and sort out of the glasses that had been used from the long night.

“What’s going through that head of yours?” Jo had broken you out of your daze.

“Nothing.” You trace the rim of the glass in front of you with your fingertip.

“Oh, something is definitely up. You fidget whenever something has happened.” She leans on the counter in front of you.

“The Winchester brothers are on their way here to require your help with a hunt.” A sigh escaped at what you had just said.

You and the eldest Winchester had a bit of a weird past. The two of you were together until Dean had found out of what you are.

He didn’t like it one bit.

And your heart broke at that.

When the two of you first got together, your mind gave you the vision of the future you two had.

You and him had gotten a nice house, finally out of the hunting life, and there was a little boy and a little girl running around in the backyard. A dog chasing them around. Dean then swooped in and picked up his kids, who squealed in delight.

But that took a big swoop into the no-no corner.

The door opening to the bar gets you out of that thought. You didn’t turn in your seat, only knowing who it was.

You get out of your seat, swallowing the rest of the alcoholic liquid and go behind the counter to clean out the glass.

Jo had seated herself in the seat you were just in. “You have a warm ass.” She commented.

The little comment made you chuckle as you turned around and leaned against the counter behind you. “Thanks.”

Jo digs the tip of her favourite hunting knife into the counter in front of her and spinning it around with her fingertips holding the round end of the knife’s handle.

Looking down to your feet, you watch Sam sit next to Jo and Dean walking behind her. They all began talking about the hunt.

After minutes of talking, the brothers quickly go back to the car to grab their bags and into a spare room in the bar.

“Hey.” Jo walks to you, Sam coming into sight. He stands behind her. “You’re gonna come with us. You haven’t gone on a hunt in a while.” Jo smiles softly at you.

“I think I’m gonna stay out on this one actually.”

“Please come.” Sam pleaded. “Just ignore him. You know he’s always grumpy.”

“Okay, fine.” Jo squealed, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

At the crack of dawn, the four of you are in the Impala. Jo has her head rested against your shoulder, tiredly mumbling away at how early it is.

An hour later, the Impala stops in front of an abandoned house with a barn next to it. “They’re in the barn.” You nod towards the wooden, animal shelter.

Getting out of the car, you stay behind the three to watch them sneak around the sides of the barn.

When they’re out of sight, you walk away, seeing a faint light in the distance to what seems to be a small town.

You wander around, looking through the windows of the stores.

“Where is he?!” Dean exclaims, tugging at the rope that’s wrapped around his wrists, which are strapped to the armrests of the chair he’s seated in.

“He was right behind us, I swear.” Jo struggles in her seat too.

Screams of the vampires get their attention. A few seconds later, you lean against the door frame, covered in blood with your machete in blood too. Your machete leans against your right shoulder.

Walking towards them, you push your machete back to have the blade through a vamp’s neck. Moving the blade to the left, the head is hanging to the side.

You then cut the ropes, releasing the Winchesters and your friend. “I’ve oiled the place. Just gotta give it the flame.” You walk past the half-decapitated vampire, your hand gripping its hair to tear its head off its body. The head gets dropped to the ground.

When Jo, Dean and Sam are seated in the car, they watch you walk towards the vehicle after you lit the barn on fire.

“(Y/N).”

“Yeah?” You don’t turn in your seat.

“Can you look at me, please?”

Sighing, you leave your half finished beer to turn in your seat, your arms resting on the counter. “What?”

Dean fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “Um, I want to say that I’m sorry for what I did back then. It wasn’t right of me to do that and it was wrong of how I left things. I-I still love you.” He mumbled, his cheeks tinting a pink.

Getting out of your seat, you place your hands under his shirt and to rest them on the skin of his hips. “Look at me.” He tilts his head up, missing looking up into your eyes whenever the two of you are in bed or when you’re sometimes hugging.

“Want to know what I saw when we were together?” He nods, tears wanting and willing to spill out from his eyes. “We got out of this life. You chose the perfect house for us, Sam living right next to us with his girl. You and I got a dog.” He chuckles at the thought.

“We also got two beautiful kids, a girl and a boy.” Dean gasps, his tears finally coming out. You lift a hand to cup his cheek. “You were chasing them around, the dog on your team.”

Dean leans his forehead against your chest, sobs shaking through his body. Your hand that was on his cheek is now rested on the back of his head. “I still love you, Dean. Always have and always will.”

Giggles and squeals erupt from the backyard. You watch your husband chase around EJ and Bobby.

“Dinner’s ready. Come inside.” The four-year-olds groan, saying that they want to play more. “Okay, then. If you continue to play now, then I get to have your dessert.”

Immediately, they both run inside, the dog running after them.

Dean chuckles as he walks up the few steps. He wraps his arms around your lower back and rests his cheek against your chest.

The small walking footsteps come back, the twins sitting down on the picnic table.

“Do I get an extra slice of pie since Ellen-Jo stole mine last night?” Dean asked, the question making you chuckle. “It depends if you eat your veggies.” You say before pressing a kiss to his temple.

He takes his head back to look at you. “Do I eat my veggies?” Laughing, you nod. “You did eat your veggies.” Your laugh turns into little giggles when you press your lips to his. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

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hazzoranstories · 3 years

Text

Damon Salvatore x Reader One Shot | Katerina’s Sabotage Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Includes: Violence, murder, harsh language, childbirth, and blood

________________________________________________________________________________

A/N: Italicized is when characters are speaking in Bulgarian

*Bulgaria; 1490*

Katerina's screams filled the room once more as her mother encouraged her to keep going and get this child out of her. All the Petrova's were panicking, rumbling in Bulgarian until they heard a baby's cry join her mother's pants. 14-year-old Y/N grinned at her sister, who had sweat glistening her face. The younger Petrova hugged her sister who's breathing began to mellow down.

"It's a girl," their mother announced and held up the newborn in her arms.

"A girl?" Both sisters questioned, and their mother nodded.

"Please, mother . . . . let me see her," Katerina begged and held out her hand for her child.

"Woman, don't! What are you doing?" Their father cut in, and the three women snapped their heads around. Mrs. Petrova quickly stood up and gave the baby to the man.

"Let Katerina hold her at least once . . . . just once . . . . at least once," Y/N pleaded to her father, feeling bad for her older sister.

"Forget it . . . . you have disgraced this family!" her father then ran out with the buddle of blankets in his arms.

"Father, please! No, father, no! No!" Katerina screeched and tried to get up, but Y/N held her back.

"No, Katerina. It's better for her! It's better for her!" her mother yelled, and Katerina clung onto Y/N's blood-covered dress.

"No, mother, please," the young girl sobbed.

"Let her go . . . . let her go, Katerina," Y/N whispered to her sister.

"Please, Y/N . . . ."

~:*:~

*Mystic Falls, Virginia: Hospital; Present Day*

Caroline was passed out in her bed with the humming of the tv show she was watching in the background. She then woke up with a groan and rubbed her heavy eyes. She turned around and gasped to see someone standing over her bed. "Elena?" she panicked, and Y/N tilted her to examine the blonde girl. She was so tired that the ancestor of her friend looked like her.

"Hi, Caroline," Y/N muttered, and Caroline sighed, covering her eyes in exhaustion.

"What are you doing here?" the Forbes asked with a sigh.

"My name is Y/N . . . ." Y/N walked closer to Caroline's bed, who suddenly tensed. "I was hoping you could give the Salvatore brothers a message for me," the Pierce snarled.

"What are you talking about? What message? Why do you look so much like Elena?" Caroline groaned, still thinking it was Elena and she was going insane.

"Game on," Y/N whispered before shoving a pillow into Caroline's face. The blonde screamed and began struggling under Y/N grasp on her. She tried desperately to get the pillow off her face so she could breathe but end up hitting her hand on the side of the bed. That was her last action before her body went limp. Y/N removed the pillow and looked down at the deceased girl. She shook her head at the stupidness of the people in this town and strutted out of the hospital.

~:*:~

*Mystic Falls, Virginia: Mystic Falls Carnival; Present Day*

As another ding rang from the bell near the arm wrestling competition, Damon chuckled as Stefan walked away from Mason Lockwood after he had just tried to beat him. "You didn't put in any effort at all," Damon commented.

"Yeah, actually, I did," Stefan whispered, and the older Salvatore raised an eyebrow.

"Come with me," the two brothers walked to a more secluded spot. "Is he-"

"No, no, no. It wasn't that kind of strength, but it was more than human if that makes sense," Stefan explained, and Damon groaned.

"What is up with that family? If they're not vampires, then what the hell are they?" Damon hissed.

"Ooh. Uh, maybe they're, uh, ninja turtles," a feminine voice came from behind them. Damon whipped around, and Stefan looked around his brother to see the younger Pierce sister.

"You're not funny," Damon spat at her, and she pouted.

"Or, no, zombies. Werewolves," she added and smiled mischievously.

"No comedic timing at all," the vampire barked, and Y/N huffed.

"Well, I'm working on it. But have you seen my dear friend Caroline? I'm looking for her," the Pierce asked, trying to look as innocent as possible.

"Since when do you know Caroline? Let alone be all buddy-buddy," Damon sniggered, and Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Look, I know you're bitter, Damon, because I snapped your neck but get over yourself. I don't love you anymore. So just shut up and point the way to Caroline. I need to make sure she drinks human blood," she replied, and both Salvatore's eyes popped out of their sockets.

"What?" Stefan hissed, and the Pierce glanced at them.

"Did you not know? I visited barbie in the hospital. She did not want to die," with Y/N rolling her eyes, she walked away with both Salvatores trying to stop her. Y/N searched for Caroline but eventually got too bored and uninterested to care. So instead, she played some carnival games.

She was in the middle of ring tose when she heard loud gasping coming from the carnival's outskirts. She glanced over her shoulder to see the blonde girl that is Caroline Forbes. The Pierce smirked and handed the vendor her cash before stuttering over to Caroline.

"Hey, friend, it's been too long!" Y/N exclaimed, and Caroline whipped around.

"Wha-what did you do to me?" she teenager cried.

"I turned you," Y/N said, and Caroline looked even more freaked out. "Okay, well, technically, you have to drink blood to turn, but that'll be easy. But! Based on the fact that I can't hear your heart! Oh, Caroline! You did it! I'm so proud of you!" the vampire jumped up and down.

"What am I?" Caroline sobbed.

"Here. Let me show you. Come on," Y/N latched onto the Forbes's hand and forced her to a picnic table where a man sat. Caroline grunted from hearing the blood being pumped through the man's body. The girls then noticed his nose was bleeding, and Y/N sneered.

"Can I help you two?" The man asked, and Y/N walked up to him.

"Don't scream and don't move a muscle," she compelled, and the man froze in place, his eyes wide. Y/N turned around and nudged Caroline. "Go on, blondie."

"No, no, I can't-" Y/N cut her off with a groan.

"Fine. I have to show you everything, I guess," the Pierce complained and went back to the man. She tilted his head to the side and, without hesitation, sunk her teeth into his neck. He didn't make a sound or even fidget. Y/N pulled away, and in seconds of Caroline seeing the blood, she jumped and began her feeding.

Less than five minutes had passed before the man died of blood loss and both Caroline and Y/N were full. Y/N was pleased while Caroline was crying her eyes to death. Damon then walked up to the two other vampires as Y/N dragged her thumb along the blood on her lip.

"He's dead. I killed him," Caroline sobbed. Damon gazed at Y/N with depressed eyes, but she showed no sign of emotion.

"We," Y/N corrected. Damon continued to stare at his past girlfriend, and she held up three fingers and mouth, "three down. Two to go." She winked at him.

It was a matter of time before the man was completely drained, and Y/N was getting ready to bury him. She was finishing up when Stefan and Elena arrived.

"Y/N! Y/N stop!" Stefan yelled.

"Oh, give it a rest, Stefan! Her switch is turned off. Do you really think she's going to listen!" Damon snapped, and Y/N stopped feeding for a minute. She knew she disappointed everyone by turning off her emotions and that everyone hated her now, but she would never imagine Damon giving up on her. He would hate her along with the others but would never lose all hope. That's not who he was. Or at least, who she remembered him as.

A nerve clicked. Y/N stood up slowly. Hopped off the picnic table. Ground her teeth together as tightly as she could without it being noticeable. And walked away without a single word. The man's blood still surrounding her mouth.

~:*:~

She couldn't stop her desperate sobbing and choking on cries. She also wanted to stand and head to a hotel, but she remained sitting alone in the woods. She was disgusted with herself. She killed an innocent girl for sport, turned her into a monster, and forced her to feed. She ruined this girl's life. Every other event in and outside the tomb was a blur except for the bad parts. She killed a teenage boy and a man. For what reason? She didn't know what. The worst part about being washed over with a tsunami of feelings was the ones she had for Damon.

He watched her do all those things! He watched her become a monster! She turned him into a demon and left him alone to figure it out. She ruined the time they had together. And she ruined their entire relationship. It was like a constant stabbing in her lifeless heart, and she couldn't stand it.

Through her screams of terror, she heard commotion going on where she and Caroline fed. With a stumble, she stood up and walked out of the woods. What she saw made her cry even more. A Bennett witch, no doubt, was glaring at Damon, who was holding his head in pain with a line of fire creeping up on him.

"Stop!" the Pierce screeched once the flames licked his black pants. Elena, who was for some reason still there, looked up from warning Bonnie. She saw Y/N run towards them with tears streaming down her face and held in a puzzled look.

"Please! Please stop! You're going to kill him! Please!" Y/N shouted to the witch, who never lost focus. Damon continued to thrash, which made Y/N sprint up to Bonnie and tackle her. She lost concentration and hit her head on the concrete, causing a groan to escape her lips. The fire immediately went out, and everyone looked over to Damon, who was struggling to get up.

"Damon," Y/N whispered and hurled herself off Bonnie to go to her lover. The Pierce went down to the ground and put Damon's face in her hands, trying to make him look at her. She kept muttering his name until his shocked eyes met hers. She let out a sob before crushing her lips onto his.

"Damon. Damon, I'm so sorry, please forgive me. Please, Damon," she pleaded, but Damon was too flustered to reply. "Say something. Damon, say something."

Once the Salvatore came back down to Earth, he saw the sparkle in Y/N eyes return even if it was covered with tears. "God, I missed you," he mumbled and reconnected their kiss. Y/N broke it and smiled, the tears still making waves down her cheeks. She placed her forehead against his and couldn't stop crying till the next morning.

A/N: This is the end of the mini-series cause I kinda lost motivation

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omgbubbletea · 4 years

Text

Dating Stefan Salvatore Would Include

When you found out he was a vampire you were shocked, but you knew something suspicious was going on with him from the beginning...you just didn’t think being a vampire was the answer

He is so scared you will see him as a monster and never want to see or speak to him again

Oh boy is he wrong

You stayed silent for a bit before saying “ok”

Stefan was perplexed by your reaction. How were you not screaming right now?

You explained how you knew something weird was going on with him and he realised how not so slick he is with keeping such a big secret

You told him you needed some space right now to think all of this over

And so he did as you asked

He was so sure you went home packing that night to leave Mystic Falls

But soon enough, 3 hours later, there you are on his doorstep confessing your love for him and how nothing is going to change that

Que Stefan’s heart swelling with the fact that you had said you loved him?

He is speechless for a few moments and you’re scared you had just made the worst confession in history, when all of a sudden you see a giant grin plaster his face

He cuts the space between the two of you with a few steps and pulls you closer to him by placing his hands on your waist. All of a sudden his mouth is on your lips, kissing you so lovingly and passionately that the air is knocked from your lungs and your legs almost give out from under you

Before the two of you can pass out from lack of air, he removes his lip from yours and whispers in your ear “I love you too”

The rest of that night is history...if ya know what I mean (;

Stefan is terrified of hurting you(especially when you first start dating)

You reassure him that he could never hurt you and that you trust him with your life

A small part of him is relieved that you said this

He is suppppper protective over you

You notice it when you guys first started hanging around Damon

And when Klaus shows up in Mystic Falls...let’s just say you would be seeing a lot of Stefan

He teaches you how to defend yourself in case you were to ever need it

And gifts you a vervain necklace to keep you safe from compulsion

He knows that you can protect yourself though

Always makes sure you got home safe by calling you

Sometimes this can get a bit annoying with him calling you EVERY SINGLE TIME you get home but you understand he just wants to make sure you're ok and not dead in a ditch somewhere

You bring this up and he soon results into just texting you after a couple hours of you getting home

Stefan would say he isn't the jealous type...but he is

It may not be that noticeable but when he sees another guy making you laugh or smile he feels a small twinge in his heart

He knows that you would never do anything to hurt him and that you love him and only him(and you make sure to tell him this when you see him getting a bit jealous)

Sometimes a guy won’t register that you are taken and just keep flirting with you. Stefan will then take matters into his own hands

This includes cupping your face lovingly and passionately kissing you in front of this poor guy who is so dumbfounded and embarrassed because he thought you were single...and you are not complaining about Stefan’s strategy

You are totally the jealous type

Stefan is one gorgeous man, so naturally, he will attract a lot of women

This does not make you happy

Stefan knows this and will make it clear to these women(who are practically drooling)that he is already taken

You should hear the sad groans that come out of these women!

Once they leave, he kisses you hard to seal the statement he had made

Now let’s just get one thing straight, he is SUCH a gentleman!

Giving you his jacket when you’re cold

Opening doors for you

Pushing out your chair

Buying you your favourite flowers(sometimes just spontaneously or when you are not having the best day)

ALWAYS complimenting you on your beauty

Candlelit dinners

Picnics

Slow dancing in the living room

You guys have definitely kissed in the rain on your account to recreate those cliche rom-com scenes

Watching romcoms every Sunday night(he says he hates it, but secretly he can’t wait till Sunday night...Princess Bride is his favourite)

He makes you breakfast in bed

Baking together(which usually ends in you both covered in flour and making out on the kitchen counter)

You both cook dinner but you prefer his meals over yours any day

He doesn't mind PDA

Hand holding

Bear hugs

Hugs from behind where the other nuzzles their neck into the others shoulder

Forehead kisses

Temple kisses

Kisses on the cheek

Jawline kisses

Kisses on the collarbone

Sweet goodbye kisses

Sloppy morning kisses

Passionate long kisses when you know you are going to be apart for a while

Small loving kisses when the other is upset

Hot and steamy kisses when the other is hungry (;

Him pinning you to the ground with your hands above your head and kissing you deeply

Desperate kisses in which no one wants to let go(usually when the other gets hurt or almost dies)

Stefan is the big spoon but on one of his bad days, you will be the big spoon and hold him close in your arms

You guys sleep with Stefan lying on his back and you nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

One of your arms is to your side while the other is laid across his torso

His arm is lightly stroking your back while the other is to his side

He can hear your heartbeat and feel the rise and fall of your chest

He loves having you close to him when he sleeps so he knows you are always there and so he can protect you

Wearing his clothes

Mainly his shirts

You love that they smell like him(fresh laundry with hints of the woods jasmine)

He loves seeing you in his shirts...but also loves seeing you without them (;

He tells you everything

His past

His secrets

His regrets

His flaws

His fears

All the terrible things he has done in his life

And you listen without judgment

You can see the pain in his eyes, feel it in his body as he spills his heart out

He tries to stay strong but you can hear his voice cracking

All you can do is hold him in your arms and whisper how much you love him in his ear

Nothing and I mean NOTHING will stop you from loving this man! And he needs to know that too

Writing about you in his diaries

Letting you read all his diaries

When you first meet Damon you didn’t like him

You thought he was a jerk and treated Stefan horribly

(you wouldn’t admit it but you where a bit intimidated by Damon)

Stefan definitely told Damon to stay away from you(and was a little bit worried that you might fall for Damon’s good looks and charm but you didn’t)

Over time you started to warm up to him

His sarcasm and sass started to wear off on you

Then BANG. You guys are BFFs

Teasing Stefan together

Having playful banter

He sees you as a sister and is so proud and happy for Stefan for finding someone as amazing as you

You can’t tell me Stefan doesn't use pick up lines on you

Definitely cracks a few dad jokes(they're so bad that they're so good)

Gives you nicknames(sweetheart, darling, beautiful)

Deep conversation when the two of you can’t sleep

Conversations about your feature

Stefan feels guilty that he will never be able to give you children

You reassure him that it’s perfectly ok and as long as you are with him your life will be full

You have a habit of singing in the shower(because your voice just sounds so good in there!) and Stefan loves it. Whether you're good or bad, it always brings a smile to his face when he hears your voice

He never fails to make you laugh

When you smile at him it still gives him butterflies

You are always a target to the enemy

Enemies have found that the only real way to break Stefan is to break you

This means that you have endured many forms

Being kidnapped

Tortured

Used as bait

Used as leverage

Being held hostage

And it never gets any better for you or less scary for the Salvatore brothers

You always know that Stefan will find you but sometimes your head will have you believe another story

When he does find you, he will show no mercy to your kidnapers

Katherine has tried to kill you on many occasions(you know she be jealous)

When you're with Stefan you feel safe

He loves how you make him feel loved

The Mystic Fall gang sees the two of you as the parents of the group

Going out to party with Elena and Caroline only for Stefan to come and have to get you because you’re drunk and don’t know where you are

If you're not out with Elena and or Caroline then you're drinking with Alaric and Damon at the Grill(Stefan doesn't approve but at least you’ll be safe with Damon...he hopes)

Caroline shipping you and Stefan to the moon

Him carrying you to bed when you fall asleep on the couch reading or watching something

Sleepovers!

You guys definitely sleepover at his house more than yours

Damon has walked in on you guys and...it was awkward

It’s like you have moved into the Salvatore’s home except for the fact you have your own apartment

Staying in bed all day if it’s rainy

Tickle fights

Road trips

When he goes Ripper you are devastated

You feel like your whole world has just crumbled in front of your eyes

“He can’t really be gone can he?”

But he was

You would do everything in your power to bring your Stefan back even if it meant risking your life(which it did)

Damon had locked Stefan in the cellar. The plan was to starve him of blood until he slowly but eventually maintained back his bunny diet

All you could do with your days was sit outside Stefan’s cell and try talking to him, ignoring his pleads for you to leave before he hurt you

You didn’t want to hear it but he was right

If it wasn’t for Damon being in the right place at the right time, you would have been dinner

Stefan couldn’t live with himself at that point. He had nearly hurt you. Nearly drained you of your blood. The thoughts of what could have been brought tears to his eyes

What broke his heart even more was that he could hear you sobbing upstairs. All because of him

You guys eventually brought Stefan back to his former self and from that point onwards, he wouldn’t stop apologising for hurting you

In fact, since the “incident” you hadn’t gone back down to see Stefan. So when you saw him again he was “better” and not all “rippa”

At the first sight of you, he broke down, falling on his knees. His breath was raggedy, voice shaking

“I’m so sorry (y/n). I am so sorry that I nearly hurt you”

His voice cracked at the last part and it broke your heart

Slowly, you lifted his chin so his red and tear-stained eyes met yours

“It’s ok Stefan. I know you would never hurt me, it’s ok”

You kneeled down to where he was on the floor and held him for what seemed like hours until he had calmed down and stopped crying

I feel like he is a slow, passionate lover

But if he is a bit jealous that day he is a bit rougher

He is top but loves it when you take control

You guys have done it in his car

(and in Damon’s but he doesn't have to know)

You have done it in the woods while on a romantic date

Everywhere(and I mean everywhere) in the boarding house

But your guys' favourite place is the bed(classic and basic)

Rides on his motorcycle

Late night walks around Mystic Falls with you guys holding hands

Him admiring your beauty

You being speechless every time he is shirtless(cause damn he looks good)

In conclusion, this boy would literally die for you and you have no doubt you would do the same for him

#salvatore #stefan salvatore #damon salvatore #vampire diaries #stefan salvatore x reader #damon salvatore x reader #stefan salvatore imagine #vampire diaries imagine #tvd #the vampire diaries #mystic falls #mystic falls gang #damon slavatore imagine

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doodleferp · 3 years

Text

We Need To Talk

previous | next

Allison and Alucard (then Dracula) have a nice picnic...in the daylight. Allison reveals that she has something she wants to talk to him about.

This fic takes place in 1893 where Allison is still human. Alucard is referred to as Dracula since he hasn’t been enslaved by Van Helsing yet. The Brides of Dracula/Weird Sisters are named Florina, Micheala, and Monica after the actresses that played them in Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: minor blood drinking, some minor morality issues, mentions of mental abuse

She didn’t know how she was able to accomplish this. Dracula, the first vampire, known to legend as a monstrous beast and bloodthirsty warmonger, sitting with her in broad daylight in the fields near his castle, partaking in human food with her.

“I was under the impression that sunlight killed vampires,” she said, trying to break the ice after a somewhat-uncomfortable silence. She took a small sip of her tea. “I assume that’s why you’re in a hooded cloak, but…I’m still curious.” She also felt the need to add very quickly, “If you don’t want to be awake right now, we can go inside and you can rest. We don’t have to do this right now.”

The vampire chuckled. “You are considerate as always, my dear,” he said. “Sun does harm vampires. But I…have been around too long. I’ve developed a bit of an immunity to it in my old age. All it does now is make me very, very tired.” He turned up his nose indignantly. “I don’t understand how I managed it when I was human. It’s so bright and yellow and it burns my eyes when I’m tired.” He took note of the increasingly-worried look on her face. “But…” he began to backpedal. “I wanted to see what you looked like during the day. The way your God meant His children to be seen.”

Allison chuckled to herself. “Was it to your liking, King of Vampires?” she asked.

“Immensely,” he sighed. “You look just as beautiful in the sun as you do in the firelight of my castle. Though I will say…I much prefer seeing your body bathed in moonlight. You look so much more…” He pondered, swirling the blood in his glass. “Natural.” He shrugged, smirking to himself. “And, of course, I don’t have to strain my eyes to be able to look at you.”

She laughed. “Vlad, we can go inside. We don’t have to sit out in the sun. Don’t be a martyr just because you think it’ll make me happy.”

“That’s where you misunderstand, dragă mea,” Dracula chuckled. “I would do whatever I could to ensure your happiness.” His expression grew solemn. “But…you did not ask me here just to discuss my vulnerabilities, did you?”

Allison’s face fell, and that’s when he knew. She sighed. “My family has been sending me letters,” she admitted.

Dracula’s voice came out in a low growl, “About your betrothed.”

“They keep asking me to come back to the States,” she continued. “They’ve begun to make plans for the wedding.”

“To your fiancé.”

“Arranged and former fiancé, Vlad,” Allison corrected him.

“And what will you write them back?” Dracula asked, a restrained anger showing through. “You have become seduced by a monster of the night and live with him in his castle, where you are doted on night in, night out by his affections, and waited upon by his servants?”

“I’ve already written them back.” Allison cut him off. With each sentence, her voice grew softer, more subdued. “I’ve told them circumstances have changed. Their most recent letter has told me that they’re coming to Transylvania to meet the fiancé I’ve disgraced them for.”

Dracula was quiet, and Allison went on, “I’ve already told enough lies about us. I didn’t want to tell any more. I told them the truth: that I’ve fallen in love with a count from Transylvania who makes me happier than I’ve ever felt.” She ran her thumb over her engagement ring. “And we’re engaged to be married.” She looked up at him. “I want my family to be involved in this, Vlad. Even if they never know I’m going to become a vampire…I at least want them to know my husband.”

His voice was soft, subdued, as if he didn’t know what to believe. “You would want your family to know of your union to a monster?”

“You are not a monster,” she snapped, the sharpness of her tone surprising him. She took a small breath and collected herself before adding “Not to me.”

A soft breath escaped him. He looked into the red occupying his glass and thought for a moment. “I…I may need to lock the Weird Sisters away for their visit,” he said. “Florina and Michaela are very well behaved, but I can not risk them being influenced by Monica’s behavior.”

“It’s fine. I understand.” Allison reached into the basket and picked two of the grapes from the vine they’d brought. “I...I hate saying that about something that sounds so awful, but it’s the best option. If Monica was left to her own devices, she could…” She paused, swallowing softly. “She’d kill them.”

She felt her shaking arm steady when his free hand took hers. “I know,” he said softly. “But I also know that there is one of them that you wouldn’t mind burying.”

“Vlad.”

“Dragă,” he said, tightening his hold on her hand just a bit. “You only need to ask me to, and I will make sure he can not harm anyone again.”

“He’s my father, Vlad.”

Dracula bared his fangs. “A father should not treat his children like pawns for status. You are you. And he should do well to accept that people have thoughts and feelings.”

Allison’s face fell. She couldn’t help it, but a dark thought came to her mind. “If you had never met me…” she asked, her fingers closing around the grapes she was holding. “Do you think you would have agreed with him?”

He was quiet, but still kept his hold on her hand. “In the past...perhaps I would have,” he said. He set his glass of blood inside the picnic basket and his other hand lay itself on her closed fingers. “But I am not that man anymore.” One of his hands came up to gently open her fingers, revealing the grapes inside her palm. “As long as I can remember, I have been taking what I wanted. But even after I tried to take something from you…” His fingers rolled one of the grapes around her palm. “You gave something to me. I can’t remember the last time something was given to me without having to force it to my possession.”

He picked up the grape he was playing with and held it out to her. “I want to give you something back.”

Allison stared at the grape, and closed her eyes. When she opened them again she looked up at him, as if she were trying to stare into his soul. “You’re trying hard to change, Vlad. I know you are.” She reached up and held the side of his face. “I don’t want my father to make you go off the edge. That’s what he does to people. He purposefully eggs them on and uses their snapping as a reason to discredit them.” Her gaze fell to the soft blanket underneath them. “He’ll use whatever he deems negative to turn you into an enemy. I don’t want you to prove him right. For your own sake.”

They sat together in a moment of silence. Then Allison leaned towards his hand and bit down on the grape he was holding. Dracula watched her with surprised eyes. “Why, you little thief,” he laughed, shaking his head at the big smile on her face.

“I was going to eat those first,” Allison insisted.

“And talking with your mouth full. Oh, you rotten child. You were so proper when you first got here.” “You’re always so feral when you drink from the trespassers. Not to mention how often you spook me in the castle halls.” She shrugged, popping the other grape into her mouth. “You made me this way. Accept it, King of Vampires; you’re corrupting me.”

Dracula sighed. “Well, I can only hope I don’t pull you too far down. If nothing else, I would at least like you to remain chaste until our wedding night.”

Allison looked back at him. “What makes you think I wouldn’t?” she asked. “I don’t have anyone else I want to run to.”

Dracula smiled at her. He reached down and took her hand, brushing his lips over her engagement ring. Allison watched him, returning his smile. “Would you like to go back inside?”

“Yes, please,” he responded almost immediately.

She couldn’t help but laugh. “At least consider my proposal.”

Dracula smiled. “I’m just very tired.”

“Alright, then. Let’s head back.” Allison picked up her cup from where she’d set it on the blanket and tried to finish drinking what she’d had left. Dracula, meanwhile, picked up the bottle in the basket and poured the blood back inside. Allison set her cup back in the basket and closed it up before standing up and getting off the blanket. “Do you want me to carry-?” She was cut off by Dracula picking up the blanket and suddenly pulling it off the grass. “Alright.”

Her fiancé smiled an impish smile. Tucking the blanket under his arm, he held his hand out to her. Smiling back at him, she took his hand, threading her fingers between his, and followed him back to the castle.

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wantstoflyafraidtofall · 3 years

Link

Go read on Ao3

“You and Cas should do something for Valentines Day.”

Sam’s words took Dean by surprise causing him to ram his shoulder into the doorframe to their motel room. Cas was still out at the car, relieving a small amount of awkwardness for Dean, but only small.

After getting Cas back from the empty, Dean had owned up to his own feelings for the now ex-angel and what started as a new, tentative relationship, became a fierce and proud love between the two. They decided that they didn’t have to do many “couple-y things'' since they had a solid twelve years of history behind them, but they share a room at the bunker and the lingering touches and stares have only become more frequent and their meanings much more known.

Jack popped by every once in a while when he wasn’t busy with his new god stuff, and Dean has to admit, he enjoys that the kid sticks around. Jack tells him that he is always there with them, even if he can’t be seen, but he has found that humans prefer physical things to talk to rather than a being “in every atom in the multiverse.”

(continues bellow cut)

Despite all under worldly and heavenly disputes on Earth being cleaned up, the supernatural word is very much alive. The treo goes on plenty of run of the mill hunts when they pop up close to the bunker, like the vamp case they’re on now.

Dean tosses his duffle on the closest bed, scoffing. “Oh sure, Sam. I’ll make sure to draw him a heart with our initials with some extra vamp blood.”

He doesn’t need to look at Sam to feel his eye roll. “Dean, we both know that this will be a quick hunt. Instead of getting wasted at a local bar you could do something nice with Cas, he would like it.”

“Fine, I’ll think about it, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Sam did have a good point. Cas loves all that sappy, romantic crap(and Dean will never admit that he loves it too) and would be overjoyed to do something with Dean on Valentines Day. Maybe he should make some plans.

~~~~~

Almost as soon as the last vampire slumped to the floor, its decapitated head rolling to a stop a few feet away, Sam locked eyes with Dean, shoo-ing him and Cas out of the warehouse where the vamps had made their nest while assuring them he could clean everything up.

Dean helped Sam get everything he needed from the Impala’s trunk and into the rental car that had chosen to drive. Cas had already seated himself in the passenger seat of the impala and bucked in by the time Dean was ready to head out.

“Why are we… what are we doing?” Cas asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“You’ll see, but first, showers.”

~~~~~

Dean showered first(and alonse, much to Cas’s disappointment) so he could get ready while Cas took his. He rushed around the small motel room, gathering all the things he had managed to prepare when Cas wouldn’t notice and put it in the trunk. He felt like vibrating out of his skin with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

The feeling only grew when Cas stepped out of the bathroom, half naked except the towel wrapped loosely around his waist and smiling. Dean told him to hurry and get dressed, not wanting to waste any more time. Once they both were ready, Dean ushered Cas to the car, ignoring his boyfriends queries.

Cas finally had given up asking what was going on and instead hummed along to the radio, looking out the window at the small town as they passed through. Dean eventually pulled up to a park, surprisingly large for such a small town but still nice. Cas remained silent with his questions, only raising a quizzical eyebrow when Dean glanced his way.

He parked Baby, grabbing the blanket and basket from the trunk and carrying it in one hand, holding out his other for Cas to take. The way Castiel smiled at him made his nervousness fade into the background. It was filled with warmth and adoration, making Dean’s cheeks flush and his stomach flutter. He didn’t need to feel worried because Cas was going to like this. He loves Dean, he loves going to parks and being in nature, he will love this too.

Dean led them through the park until they found a nice grassy spot under the shade of a tall oak tree. He laid out the blue, plaid blanket on the ground, flattening out the wrinkles with his hands before setting the basket in the center and beconing Cas to sit with him. He opened the basket, pulling out some sandwiches and fruit, as well as half an apple pie, and spread it between them on the blanket.

“You wanted to take me on a picnic?” Cas asked.

Heat flooded Dean’s face, “Yeah, well, I-I, uh, it’s valentine's day and I just thought, you know…” He trailed off, looking down at the grass with embarrassment.

Cas reached a hand to Dean’s jaw, tipping it up to make him look him in the eyes before kissing him sweetly.

“It’s wonderful, Dean. Thank you.”

“Of course, Cas. I love you.” He replied, the words familiar on his tongue yet still bringing a new rush of warmth in his chest.

“I love you too.”

They sat under the tree, eating sandwiches, sweet fruits, and delicious apple pie, Cas telling Dean all about oak trees and the different flowers growing in the small garden beds scattered around the park. The feeling of peace and calm Dean had been getting used to seeped into his bones, letting him let go of his worries and smile at the man he loves, listening to a once powerful Angel of the Lord ramble about aster and azalea.

It fills Dean with endless euphoria to know that he can have this life, a life he never thought he would be able to have. And against all odds, he got it. He got Cas, the biggest win he could ever dream of.

~~~Tag list(feel free to ask to be added)~~~

@kinda-not-really-vibing, @i-dont-even-wanna-know , @chris-krat

#destiel #fanfic #deancas #my writing #supernatural #spn #valentines day fic #spn fic #dean winchester #castiel #fluff #cute #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #deancas fic #deancas fanfic

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nethandrake · 3 years

Text

The Friendversary

stevetony. mcu. rated t. werewolf!steve & vampire!tony au. 2.3k words.

also on ao3.

*****

Tony barely registers the voice calling his name. He should roll over, get out of bed, and check. It could be an emergency. Hell, maybe the apartment’s on fire or they’re in the midst of being robbed.

But then, he could just keep his eyes closed and stay in bed. He can’t remember the last time he got a decent day of sleep. To take that away from him is daylight robbery.

Besides, Steve can handle things. Steve with the broad shoulders with arms that could probably bench press Tony if he asked. Steve who could tear limbs apart as easy as breathing because he’s a freaking—

“—ony. Rise and shine!”

But of course like everything in life, Tony could never get things his way.

He lets out a grunt, moving to cover his ears with his pillow. “Ugh, go away.”

Unsurprisingly, the pillow is yanked out from under him. His head hits the mattress with a soft thump, a quiet groan tumbling out of his lips.

“Tony,” the voice says, much more insistent and familiar.

Goddamn dog.

“Fuck off. It’s morning.”

“The sun just set, actually.”

As if by magic, some of the grogginess Tony feels dissipates. He cracks an eyelid open, meeting a pair of perfectly blue eyes and a perfectly cheery smile and a big dopey mug. It's a sight Tony never, ever wants to be greeted with this early in the night.

“I hate you.”

Steve smirks, leaning against his doorway with his arms across his chest. “You say this now but wait ‘till I drink all your blood.”

“You don’t drink blood.”

“I might. Just to give it a go.”

Tony scoffs, motioning to sit on the edge of his bed. “That’s what you said six decades ago,” he says, rubbing the rest of the sleep from his eyes. “And what happened after?”

Steve scowls. “You’ll never let that go, huh?”

“I would if you’d stop threatening me about it.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Well, you can nag me about it later,” Steve says, detaching himself from the doorframe. “Meet me up on the rooftop.”

Tony frowns. “Rooftop? Why are we—”

That’s when he notices Steve’s getup – a dress shirt that brings out the silver in his eyes, slacks, and a pair of ankle socks. His typical tousled hair is slicked back. Tony’s pretty sure it’s gelled.

Steve doesn’t dress up often and since they’re meeting up on the rooftop, that could only mean one thing.

His lips twist into a smirk, taking a couple of steps backwards. He probably noticed Tony forgot, the bastard.

“C’mon, Tony,” he says in a sing-song voice. “We’re burning moonlight.”

Tony rolls his eyes, flinging the covers off his body. “I’ll be there. Don’t worry your pretty little head about me being— What?”

Steve startles, tearing his gaze away from Tony’s…body?

“Nothing!” he exclaims, his voice a couple of decimals higher than usual. “I just— Yeah.”

Tony couldn’t help but snort as Steve zips away. Sometimes, Steve would be reduced to a stuttering mess out of the blue for no explainable reason. There might be an explanation though if Steve doesn’t wear scent blockers.

Then again, so does Tony. He shouldn’t be annoyed with Steve doing the same. It’s only natural to wear them since they're living in a city mostly populated by humans.

Tony takes his time in the shower, getting dressed, and styling his hair. If anyone could see him right now, they'd probably think about how ridiculous he's being, how effort he's wasting. It’s dinner with Steve, after all. Tony could be wearing a rucksack and Steve wouldn’t even bat an eye.

To be fair, today's their anniversary. The occasion is basically screaming for cologne and hairspray.

“Time flies huh,” Tony mutters to himself as he fastens his cape around his neck. “Five hundred goddamn years.”

It’s a miracle that they’ve lasted this long as friends, let alone best friends, and roommates. He can’t imagine if they actually did something dumb like date each other. They probably would’ve only lasted a month or two. Maybe a year, at most.

Or maybe if you actually tried shooting your shot—

Tony shakes his head as he unlocks his balcony door and steps outside. There’s no point dwelling on that right now or ever, even. Steve’s a werewolf. And werewolves wouldn’t be wasting time on giving people like Tony a second glance. They’d be focused on finding mates.

Mates who’d be furry and smelly and enjoy roaming around in the woods for the rest of eternity. Not bloodsucking nocturnals who fly around and live in graveyards.

Not that Tony is living in a graveyard right now, but the notion still stands. They’ve been going strong for five hundred years. Why try ruining things?

Steve’s already on the rooftop, sitting on a picnic blanket with a basket by his side. He flashes Tony a broad grin, all canine and bright. In all his six hundred and eleven years of living, Tony’s never seen such a beautiful person be this dorky.

“You do know there’s a perfectly functioning elevator, right?” Steve drawls out as Tony lands on the edge of the rooftop.

Tony shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that? I need to stretch my legs. Plus, it’s more fun to scare the humans.”

“Yeah. If you’re into endangering the whole mythical community.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” He sweeps his cape behind him, spreading his hands. “Well, how do I look?”

Steve pauses, his eyes roaming around, drinking Tony in. “You look… You look…”

“I better looking dashing,” Tony interrupts. “You know me and mirrors. I wouldn’t have asked you if—”

“You definitely do,” Steve interrupts, a little too earnest than Tony deems necessary. “You look beautiful.”

There’s an odd intensity behind Steve’s blue, blue eyes. Tony makes a mental note to reexamine that later.

“So,” he begins, breaking the silence as he settles down next to Steve, “what’d you got for us tonight?”

They usually take turns getting dinner together. While Tony leans towards more expansive and refined options, Steve’s tastes are much simpler. This year, he's opted for burgers and fries for himself and a homemade blend of cow’s blood, pomegranate, and strawberries for Tony. Just the sight of the crimson liquid being poured into his wine glass has Tony salivating.

“Well,” Steve begins, raising his bottle of lemonade in the air, “here’s to five hundred years of friendship.”

“And five hundred more,” Tony adds, clinking their drinks together. “Until you meet your mate, that is.”

Whenever Tony brings up the M-word, Steve freezes up. This time is no different.

“Tony—”

“I know you hate all the mate talk but as I said before—”

“Tony—”

“—I don’t think you’d want to spend the rest of your life—”

“Can we not talk about this right now?” Steve interrupts, his time firmer. “Please?”

Tony sighs, taking a large gulp from his glass. He almost moans at the clash of flavors swirling around on his tongue. The irony of a werewolf brewing one of the best vampire drinks Tony’s ever tasted. “Alright, alright.”

Dinner goes without a hitch, after that. They fall back into their usual topics of conversation of work and friends, making sure to steer clear of any talk of romance and mates.

“You know,” Tony begins after the food has been cleared and they’ve finished a lapse of comfortable silence. “I always thought about how funny this is.”

“What?”

“This…” He gestures between the two of them. “This…thing. You know.”

Steve’s lips quirk to the side. “What? That we get along?”

“Not that. Although that has cropped up pretty often. I mean, us. Having an anniversary for our friendship. Like, who does that?”

“Carol and Maria do,” Steve points out.

“Yeah. And they started dating a couple of years after. Try again.”

“Does it matter?”

Tony sighs, waving his hand around. “I don’t know. I just— Isn’t this something you do with your mate?”

The smile on Steve’s face slides off. “Tony—”

“Or at least someone you’re attracted to. ‘Cause let me tell you, nothing kills the mood better than—”

“Tony!”

Immediately, Tony’s jaw clamps shut.

Steve’s shoulders sag but his blue eyes are still stormy with anger. “Jesus, Tony. I told you to drop it.”

“I know—”

“I don’t get why you’re so adamant about me finding a mate.”

Tony picks at the hem of his cape. “It’s been five hundred years, Steve. I just— Aren’t you lonely?”

“Why would I be lonely?” Steve asks, sounding puzzled. “I have you.”

If Tony still has a pulse, he’d be pretty sure it’ll be racing right now. “That’s different,” he says slowly. “We’re friends. Just friends. Friends with a capital ‘F’.”

A heavy silence shrouds them. For a moment, Tony feels stupid. Exposed. He shouldn’t have said that. Fuck, he really should’ve kept his mouth shut and—

“What if I don’t want to be friends.”

Wait, what?

“What if I want to be more than friends,” Steve continues, wringing his hands, his cheeks reddening with each passing second. “What if—”

“You want us to be mates?!”

If he isn’t a vampire, he probably would’ve chalked it up to him hearing things. Then again, being a vampire hasn’t stopped him from hallucinating and hearing things.

Steve winces, his whole face now turning crimson red. Hell, even the tip of his ears is a bright shade of blush. It’s goddamn adorable.

“Only if you want to,” he says. “I know we’ve never talked about it and I know you don’t feel the same way—”

Tony reaches out, curling his fingers around Steve’s wrist, putting a stop to his escape. Fortunately for him and his hand, Steve doesn’t fight him off.

“Woah, woah. What the hell do you mean I know?”

Steve frowns. “Don’t you?”

“No! ‘Course not.”

As quickly as it came, the color in Steve’s cheeks drains.

“Oh,” he breathes out, his voice barely a whisper. “I thought you knew. ‘Cause you know, super senses.”

Tony frowns, puzzled. “You wear scent blockers.”

“I don’t mask my heartbeat,” Steve counters. “C’mon. You’d had to know how it races when I’m around you—”

“That’s corny as fuck.”

“Just saying the truth, is all.”

“I—” Tony racks his brain, trying to recall something. Anything.

He comes up empty.

“I mean, I don’t have the best memory around—” Steve cocks an eyebrow. “What? You know I’m right!”

His lips tug to the side, staring at him with stark disbelief.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Cut me some slack, Steven. I’ve been dead for centuries. Excuse me for not remembering. I figured that was your regular heartbeat.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, what about you, huh?” Tony shoots back. “You had to know I’ve been drooling over you for four hundred and ninety-nine years!”

Steve’s eyes widen, his lips parting. It’s times like these that the vampire that turned Tony all those centuries ago actually sucked him dry.

“Fuck,” he groans, burying his face in his hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not—”

“Someone kill me—”

“You’re already dead.”

“I know,” Tony moans. “Fuck. I can’t believe you’re attracted to a corpse. A fucking corpse!”

Steve snorts, mischief lacing his tone. “I don’t know. You look pretty lively to me.”

“Shut up. This isn’t funny, Rogers,” Tony mutters before lifting his head up. “Do you really want to shackle yourself to me for another five hundred years?”

Steve deepens his grin, a grin that Tony could only describe as wolfish. “I mean, we’ve gotten this far, haven’t we?”

“I guess. But we’d be together. In a relationship. Until you get sick and tired of me—”

“I won’t,” Steve insists like the dumbass he is. “Like I said before, we’ve gotten this far.”

“Yeah?”

He gets a kiss in answer.

Steve’s lips are soft and warm against him. Tony can’t remember the last time he’s felt this good, this thrilled, this warm.

He doesn’t know how long this goes on, losing track of time and himself into this moment, into finally. It’s only that when they do pause for Steve to catch his breath, Tony realizes he’s in Steve’s lap, his thighs clamping Steve in place and his cape pooling at his feet.

“You taste of wet dog,” he murmurs.

“And you taste of blood,” Steve breathes, tightening his grip on Tony’s waist and god, Tony wants. He wants and needs everything.

“That gonna be a problem?”

“Nope. Not in the slightest.” He sighs against his lips and fuck, he is warm and he smells faintly of pine and vanilla – a combination Tony never thought could make him weak in the knees. He can’t imagine how overwhelming it’ll be when the scent blocker fades away.

“I can’t believe we wasted five hundred years,” Steve continues. “We could’ve had— We could’ve been—”

“Could’ve been mates?”

He blinks, his smile flickering. “I mean, only if you want to. You don’t—”

“Have I forgot to mention that I’ve been in love with you for four hundred and ninety-nine years?” Steve opens his mouth but Tony cuts him off. “And before you ask, no, I don’t care what people think about us. People have been assuming for years, anyway.”

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Steve says. “I was actually going to say I’ve been in love with you for four hundred and ninety-nine years and five months. So.”

Tony cocks an eyebrow. “And you say I’m stupid for a genius all the time.”

“I mean, I am a dumb dog.”

“A dumb dog who chose a bloodsucker as his mate.”

Steve scowls. “Hey. That’s my bloodsucker you’re talking about.”

Tony hums as he snakes his hands around Steve’s neck. “This bloodsucker is also in the mood to suck something else.”

“That was terrible.”

“Please. You love it.”

Steve grins as he tilts his head forward. “Guess I do.”

#stevetony #stony #steve rogers #tony stark #halloween #vampires #werewolves #*fic #wrote this for halloween so here ya go ;)

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 3 years

Text

Once Bitten Twice Stupid Prt.75 prt.1

Keith felt lucky. He felt lucky enough to have the friends he did. Pidge and Hunk would be heading back to Garrison today, so Lance had prepared a surprise for them all with Keith’s help. A picnic in the park. Not the same park they’d gone to last time, but another one... where less murders had happened as long as you avoided the lake according to Lance. Keith finally felt confident to show off his photography skills to someone other than Shiro and Lance. Matt and Rieva couldn’t be there. Matt coming home drunk hadn’t gone over well with Pidge’s mum according to Hunk who’d shivered as he’d told them, but Allura had joined them again, as had Blue and Kosmo. Blue wasn’t like Kosmo, Kosmo was running around with Hunk and Lance, who’d finally replaced his fake glasses with a new pair. Keith took it to be the way they needed to work through their issues, having not missed the way Hunk was nervous around Lance.

With Blue in his lap, Keith was fiddling with his camera. Shiro and Curtis were making disgusting faces at each other, also known as “being totally smitten but having not kissed yet”. Allura was reading a thick book as she sun bathed on the over cast day. Rather than bringing his best camera, he’d brought the one Lance had bought him. Pidge at his side as he’d stumbled through explaining the specs and she’d be surprisingly knowledgeable about cameras in general

“So. I have to ask. If you were there to kill Lance, why didn’t you?”

Keith blushed. Telling Pidge would lead to a lifetime of teasing. Shiro laughed too hard, knowing exactly what the blush was for

“Lance actually saved Keith’s life before he got the chance to kill him. There was a while there we were Lance had changed him”

“Lance saved you?”

“Yeah. I... uh, got injected with something bad and he sucked it out my system before I died from it”

“Keith!”

What was Pidge yelling his name for? He knew he was an idiot. He didn’t need her harping on about it.

“It’s not a terribly romantic story. Lance was sick for days recovering”

Allura snapped her book closed, choosing now to join in the conversation

“Vampires get sick?”

Allura nodded, before explaining

“They do when exposed to the wrong things. Bad blood can leave them near death. Fresh tends to be best. Though each individual vampire does have their preferences”

“Lance doesn’t like my blood”

There was huff of annoyance in Keith’s tone, despite having accepted that it really wasn’t anything personal. Pidge snickered

“Oh damn. Your boyfriend’s a sucker, but he’s not a sucker for you”

Shiro reached out, ruffling Pidge’s hair

“Leave him alone. You’ll break him if you tease him too much”

Curtis’s curse got the better of him

“Keith injected himself with mercury. Lance sucked the mercury from his system and was forced to have his blood purged”

Suddenly he was having his arm smacked by Pidge. Blue jumping off his lap, trying to walk off the picnic rug in a huff, only her lead was clipped to Keith so she couldn’t

“You idiot! How could you do that?!”

“It wasn’t my fault I got the needles wrong!”

“You could have died!”

Honestly he’d been more scared about being a vampire than dying thanks to mercury

“I know... Thanks a lot, Curtis”

“That reminds me, Curtis. I don’t understand completely where you fit in. You didn’t fit when we were trying to work things out”

It was Keith’s chance at revenge

“Curtis and Shiro like each other. They’re practically boyfriends but they won’t ask each other out. Curtis used to work in Rome with Shiro”

Both Shiro and Curtis flushed, looking away from each other. Pidge instantly on them instead of him

“Ooooh! But if you’re a hunter, why were you living with Lance?”

“I may have be slightly cursed by werewolves trying magic”

More than bad luck. Fucking wolves. Great. He sounded like Lance

“Holy shit! That’s like some bad luck right there, dude. Still doesn’t explain why you were living with Lance so long”

“Lance has fits of illness that Coran was worried about”

Allura’s explanation didn’t help things

“Is that why he had to leave yesterday so suddenly?”

Shiro laughed at Pidge’s perfectly innocent question

“No. That was a case of Keith not being able to handle his alcohol. He was feeling Lance up under the table”

Fuck Shiro

“Fucking dobber”

“Drunk Keith gets a bit handsy”

Pidge laughed hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. Keith wasn’t impressed with his brother dobbing him in

“Really? I was under the impression Lance left due to his heat”

And fucking Allura

“His heat? Like an animal?”

And fucking Pidge. Everyone but Pidge knew not to discuss it, Keith trying to stick up for his boyfriend who was probably listening to everything

“Lance isn’t a fucking animal. He’s special”

“I don’t mean it like that. I’m trying to understand”

“Yeah. Well. This is something Lance doesn’t want to talk about and I don’t want to talk about it either”

Pidge immediately sobered. Keith felt he might have been a little harsh

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Does Matt have heats?”

Allura gently explained

“He’s a male werewolf so he has ruts. Rieva is a female werewolf so she has heats. Lance is a vampire who has heats, but not all vampires have heats, just as not all vampires turn into bats. It is difficult for Lance to talk about it. I know how special you are to him, he’s often talked about you”

“He has?”

Pidge should know how often Lance bragged. He often did it in front of her

“Very fondly. Honestly, I’m most happy we can talk like this. I feel like practically know you already”

“How long have you known Lance?”

Allura got a dreamy look on her face, as if she wasn’t seeing the present

“Nearly as long as Coran has. He was the sweetest child you could imagine. He and Coran are exceptionally close. Lance is like a son to him. Keith, can you take Lance to his car...”

Allura shook her head, the look disappearing from her face

“...Sorry. I don’t know what that was. What was I saying again? Oh, yes. Lance was the sweetest boy”

“He’s a dork... like... how is he a vampire. What’s with the glasses?”

Allura shook her head

“I don’t really know. He’s seemed to prefer them for some time now. I had thought fashion, but he’s worn them for so long now, despite having perfect vision”

“He wears them because he sees too much. He says he can’t cope with how much he sees and hears, so they help make his world smaller”

“But isn’t that a good thing? Being able to see and hear if someone’s coming for you?”

You’d think. But Keith got it now

“Not really. He can’t not hear things and see things. Imagine hearing Matt having sex at the other end of the park. That’s what it’s like”

Pidge wrinkled her face up

“No fucking thanks. Nope. I can’t forget that, Keith”

Keith shrugged

“You’re the one who asked”

“Yeah, well, I regret it now, obviously”

Coming running up to their group, Hunk was panting hard. Hands on his knees for support as he talked between pants. Kosmo wagging his tail happily as he sat beside Hunk

“G-guys... Lance... just... ran... off...”

Keith got up so fast his precious camera fell the few centimetres from his leg to the group as he did. Turning a full circle, he couldn’t see Lance

“What do you mean he ran off?

Hunk raised a hand, pointing towards the cafe strip across from the park parking bay

“I don’t know... He kind of paused, then ran off”

Keith looked to Shiro, who’d also gotten to his feet

“Keep everyone together. He might have heard something or seen someone. I’ll go check”

“Got your phone?”

“Yep. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Shit... Hold on, Blue”

Blue didn’t appreciate being pulled by her lead shorting. Keith unclipping her and handing her lead to Pidge. He’s nearly strangled Lance’s perfect princess. His boyfriend would literally kill him if he’d hurt Blue

“Stay there. I’ll be right back”

Keith jogged across the park, catching sight of Lance standing near the dumpster alley between a cafe and a florist. Not watching for traffic, he was beeped at when he stepped out in front of a car, barely stepping in back in time as the driver flipped him off. Checking for cars, he had to wait for three more to pass before he could jog across the road and over to where Lance was standing

“Babe?”

Lance’s voice shook

“Stay back, Keith”

Keith stepped into the alley. A figure clad in black leather with a helmet on was holding a gun towards Lance. Keith went to go for his gun, but he hadn’t worn in it so long he’d kind of forgotten about the fact he actually needed to carry one. Seeing Keith, the figure moved the gun towards him, Lance stepping between them. A bullet could kill Lance depending where it hit him

“I don’t know what you want, but don’t hurt him”

Lance turned his head to gawk at him

“Really?”

“Look, I’ve got money. Just don’t hurt him”

The figure moved the gun downwards, pointing to Keith’s pocket... well, Lance’s pocket seeing his boyfriend was trying to shield him. Raising one hand, Lance digging into his pocket with the other. Pulling out his wallet, the slowly started to bend. The next thing Keith knew, Lance had tackled him to the ground as the gun went off. Dazed for a moment, Keith came too pretty quick as Lance tried to prop himself up

“Lance!”

“You okay, babe?”

“Am I okay? You got fucking shot!”

Behind him, the figured walked up so they were staring down at the pair of them through the helmet visor

“Don’t hurt him! Take my wallet and go!”

What kind of idiot yelled that when they’d been shot?!”

From within the helmet came a muffled laugh. Keith feeling murderous that the bastard was laughing at them. Raising their hands, the pulled the helmet off, Keith’s eyes going wide as he recognised the figure inside

“Mum?!”

“Hey, Keith. This must be the infamous Lance I keep hearing about. Nice to meet ya, I’m Krolia. Keith’s mother”

Lance looked from Keith to Krolia, then back to Keith again. His boyfriend slumping sideways as he fainted. Angry with his mother, Keith pulled his legs out from under Lance, gathering him up as he shot his mother a glare

“What the fuck?! Lance?! Hey, Lance? It’s Keith...”

Tapping Lance on the face, his boyfriend was out cold... in more ways than one

“Mum! You shot him! What the fuck!”

“Calm down. It was a rubber bullet. I wanted to know the kind of man dating my son!”

“Mum! You can’t... Lance, babe. Hey, come on”

Tapping Lance’s face again, his boyfriend groaned, big blue eyes confused. It didn’t matter that it was a rubber bullet, it’d still fucking hurt

“Babe?”

“Thank fuck. You fainted”

“I think your mum tried to kill me”

Calmly Krolia defended herself

“If I was trying, you’d be dead”

That was true. If Krolia wanted to kill, she would have killed him before he’d known what was happening. If Krolia had been one Lance’scale from the beginning his boyfriend would long dead and disposed of.

Gazing up at Krolia, Lance was so confused. Keith explaining because his mother wouldn’t

“It was a rubber bullet. Apparently she saw now to be give a fuck about my life and test my fucking boyfriend. Are you okay?”

“My shoulder fucking hurts”

“That’s because rubber bullets hurt... hang on”

Feeling his phone vibrating, Keith turned his back towards his mother as he pulled the device out. Sliding his thumb across the screen, he started helping Lance to stand at the same time

“Keith?! What was that shot?! Are you okay? Did something happen?!”

Now Krolia was upsetting Shiro too...

“Krolia. She finally decided to say hello. Take the others back, I’ll drive Lance home myself”

“Are you two going to be okay?”

No. Yes. Ugh. He was. Lance on the other hand had been shot

“We’re fine. Rubber bullet. Let the others know Lance is fine. I’ve got to go”

Keith slid his phone back in his pocket. Lance had his arm around the hunter’s waist as he tried not cry. His boyfriend was being very brave

“Why would you do that?!”

“I wanted to see what kind of man my son is dating. He’s made a good first impression. He’ll heal right up with a bit of blood”

Keith sent Krolia a scathing glare

“Why couldn’t you greet us like a normal person! Babe, I’m so sorry. Let’s get you home and get some ice on that shoulder”

And chocolate. Chocolate and some cuddles... How did he even apologise for this

“You’re headed to VOLTRON? Good. I’ll follow you”

“Like I want to see you after this sick joke”

Krolia let him lead Lance to the street corner before calling out

“You forgot his wallet”

Turning back, Keith snatched the wallet from his mother as soon as he was close enough

“Don’t follow us”

The hunter knew what a rubber bullet felt like. And it fucking hurt. Krolia was always pulling dumb stunts. Apparently she’d pulled a blade on Shiro when Shiro first joined the Blades, “testing his loyalties”, as she put it. Him she’d watched for days, before pulling the “I’m your mum speech”. How Shiro could talk to her was beyond him. And, worst of all, the Blades seemed to think this normal. Coran was weird, but the Blades were a bunch of Grade-A nut jobs. Grade-A Vatican approved nut jobs.

Lance was quite on the drive home, holding his shoulder as stared out the window. Keith wished he’d talk. Anything was better than the glam rock on the radio and his boyfriend not talking. It felt as if he’d opened his mouth he would have been apologising all over again. Leaving before the others meant they got home before them, but Shiro must have called ahead to warn Coran as he met them at stairwell for parking

“Shiro told me there was some kind of attack”

That was one way of putting it. Lance sighed heavily

“I’m fine. Just a sore shoulder. And I met Keith’s mum. I’m not completely sure she likes me, but I seem to have passed the parental dating test”

“She fucking shot you!”

Lance didn’t sound particularly mad. That was good. Keith was easily mad enough for the both of them

“Yeah. I noticed. I heard her call my name... and I just... went. I didn’t think she’d pull a gun on me”

“Wait?! You knew it was her?!”

“No. I just heard someone call my name and say yours... Yeah, I know. Dumb move”

Idiotic move more like it

“Oh dear. I was so hoping you’d have a nice time at the park. Come upstairs and let’s take a look”

Lance sat on Coran’s examination table, Keith helping him get his jacket and shirt undone so Coran could see. Sliding it down, the bruising was horrible from what Keith could see over Lance’s shoulder. Turning, his boyfriend showed him properly

“How bad does it look?”

The site was purple black, angry redness swollen in the middle of Lance’s shoulder blade

“It looks like I should have shot her and seen how she liked it”

“Babe”

“Don’t “babe” me. She shot you”

“She was testing me”

“She had no fucking right”

“You do realise her only son is dating a vampire?”

“That doesn’t matter! Seriously, what were you thinking?!”

“That if you were going to be shot, I’d never recover”

Keith floundered. Opening his mouth and closing it, before crossing his arms

“That’s beside the point”

“Not really. I’d rather be the one shot. At least I’ll heal from a shot that could kill you”

Coran fetched an icepack out his small fridge

“Now, now, boys. I’m sure Krolia had her reasons. Like Lance said, you are her only son”

“Not when she pulls shit like this”

Putting the icepack to Lance’s shoulder, Lance hissed. Coran wincing in sympathy

“I know. It’ll help the swelling”

“Yeah. It’s still damn cold though”

Lance and Coran were taking this too well. Some kind of buzzer went off over their heads

“That’ll be front reception letting me know we have a visitor. Keith, can you grab Lance a bag of blood. He seems to have gotten sunburnt on top of things”

So that’s how Coran knew they were there. That was one mystery solved. Lance placed his hand over his shoulder to hold the icepack in place

“I’ve got him”

Coran gave him a warm smile

“He’s in excellent hands”

Keith opened the fridge to find all kinds of things in there

“Does blood type matter?”

“I’ll take an A+ if there’s one in there”

There were two. Like Coran kept the fridge stocked just for Lance. Grabbing a bag out, he brought it over to his boyfriend, holding it out for him to take

“Here. Fuck. I can’t believe she shot you”

“Keith...”

“Don’t defend her”

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

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tazzytypes · 4 years

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Apocalypse: Sanctuary - Chapter 3

Hey guys! Things are starting to get real in this chapter and Michael will be appearing in the next one (finally). I know I write a loot per chapter for the most part, but I get super into each and last detail. Trust me, it will all make sense in the end.

Read on AO3!

Time was a pesky beast. Sometimes it moved by you like the wind, gone before you could realize it was there. Other times it was thick as honey, your body burning in protest as you waded through it. Too much of either was enough to make you go mad. Then again, her sanity had been on a thread since the bombs dropped.

After 18 months — a year and a half, 547.5 days, or 13,140 hours if you wanted to get really particular — it was a wonder any of them were still alive.

After hours spent in the library, the Three Musketeers had found that nuclear winter lasted about 3 years on average. What they had found, however, failed to specify the radiation levels after those years. Eventually, they threw in the towel and resigned themselves to spending the rest of their days underground. The library instead became their oasis where no other resident dared to trespass.

Em had attempted to start drawing again, but Coco relentlessly asked for her portrait any time she pulled out her sketchbook. She swore the woman could hear the scrape of pencil against paper from anywhere in the Outpost. It was an artist’s worse nightmare.

Timothy had tried to entice the other two to work out with him. After the third meal cutback, they couldn’t even do a sit-up without their head becoming light and the world spinning around them.

The walls seemed to grow tighter and tighter around her. At night, the darkness was so suffocating that Em rushed to light a candle before it swallowed her whole. In those moments she felt like Atlas, smothered by the weight of the world on top of her. If she could just see the blue sky and feel cold air upon her skin she would be in heaven. Instead, endless anxieties plagued her — what if there was a cave-in? Was she running out of air or just panicking? It was so stale and cling to her despite it being circulated by a machine she could not see. She was choking to death and the walls would come closer and closer until they became her tomb.

The stabbing sensation in her hand drew her from the flood of thoughts, hands white as they curled around the cover of a book. Once again, the three musketeers gathered in the library. It at least kept their minds active and it had become Em’s personal goal to read each and every book in the outpost, shelves in nearly every nook and cranny. It was her own personal Alexandria.

Timothy laid back on a couch throwing a ball he had found up and down. The sound of it hitting the palm of his hand was like a metronome, bringing her back in synch with the world.

Emily, on the other hand, seemed to be physically exhibiting the anxiety Em internalized. She was pacing a hole into the carpet, arms crossed and jaw clenched.

“It’s October,” She said as she turned and walked back across the small clearing of couches and tables, “We’ve been here for 18 months.”

“Already?” Em asked, counting weeks on her hand. Wait… when did this week start? Did she count days by when she slept or when she ate? Without sun or a moon, they didn’t even have a concept of night and day. Just periods of sleep and consciousness.

“Already?” Emily echoed, voice going up an octave, “it’s felt like years.”

“Technically a year,” Timothy pointed out, quickly backtracking as Emily sent him a look, “but it’s not like Venable is passing out calendars or anything.”

Emily scoffed, “Venable isn’t doing anything… you know, I bet she’s hoarding food for herself.”

“Why do that when she can just chop up another person and eat them.”

Emily sent him another scathing glare, “not funny.”

Em sighed and shut her book with a loud thump, “What we need is a distraction.”

Timothy closed his eyes and stopped throwing his ball, hand held up in the air, “I think I may face the cannibals if we have to play Pictionary one more time.”

The brunette placed her book aside, biting her lip as she thought of something… anything to distract them from the world.

“It’s October, right?” she finally proposed, “What about some scary stories? We already have a bonfire… pretty much everywhere.”

Timothy sat up, “isn’t our predicament enough of a horror story?”

Em turned on her heel, hands behind her back as she tainted him, “What? Are you scared?”

“No!”

“Then prove it.” A smile finally returned to Emily’s face as she flounced towards the boy, coming to sit at his side. Her expression reminded Em of a cat, content and ready to watch the mice dance. “Tell us a story, Mr. Valedictorian.”

He shook his head and sighed, “I don’t know…”

“Did you guys ever have that book,” Em asked, “Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark?”

Emily gasped, “Yes! They made it into a movie, right? I could never sleep after just seeing those pictures.”

“Made Texas Chainsaw Massacre seem like a picnic,” Timothy noted, earning a laugh from Emily. She leaned into him and Em looked to the side towards the rows and rows of books.

“What even were the stories about?” Em asked, turning from the smitten couple to give them some form of privacy, “I can only remember the pictures.”

Emily stood, placing her hands on her hips as she surveyed their surroundings, “for all the book they have in this place there’s got to be a copy. It was a school, after all.”

“I don’t know…” Em teased, side eyeing Timothy, “ … if any of the boys were like Timothy.”

“For the last time: I’m not scared!”

“We’ll see about that as soon as we find that book,” Emily said, pulling the boy to his feet before turning to Em, “Timothy and I can take the first three rows and you can take the last two.”

“Careful,” Em warned, watching the two saunter off down an aisle, “Mead’s only going to buy me saying y’all are ‘just friends’ for so long.”

Timothy’s face flushed red. Emily’s face shined with a look that dared the world to take from her the one good thing she had found among the ashes. “Can’t let Venable control all aspects of our life.”

“Maybe she’s a vampire,” Em said, “some people say they feed on misery instead of blood.”

“She’s certainly got the personality of one.”

With a smile, the two disappeared from sight, Emily’s giggling reaching through the books to Em’s ears. With a tired sigh, she wandered to the other side of the room. Once upon a time, she would spend hours in any bookstore or library she entered. This place, however, seemed to be predominantly filled with books written by old white men. A few newer books were scattered here and there, but they were few and far between. On bad days, Emily and herself would battle for them with rounds and rounds of rock, paper, scissors.

She quickly fell into a rhythm. A state of focus, her brother would have said. He had been writing a book on the subject before... before...

“Thoreau… Douglas...” Em mouthed the title an name of each and every book to keep her mind from wandering to the less than pleasant.

At some point, Timothy joined her. The sound of feet against carpet pulled her from her trance, forcing her to feel how tired her eyes had become. She pulled out of her crouched position, frowning as her back popped and protested.

“You’d think they’d at least have one scary book,” Em noted as Timothy made it to her side, “any luck on y’all’s end?”

“If you count Hawthorne as a horror author.”

“I don’t know… you could count The Birthmark as a horror story.”

“The Birthmark?”

“A woman born with a birthmark marries an alchemist. Instead of accepting her, he seeks out how to obtain perfect beauty and—”

“Guys!” Emily’s voice rang out from a row over, “Come look at this!”

The pair looked at each other then meandered over to Emily. A large tome was in her arms. It was as large as a small child, thick as the old dictionaries from reference sections. As they got closer, Em saw the cover lacked any discernable title and the pages were yellowed with age.

“What is it?” Timothy asked, pacing a hand on Emily’s shoulder.

Emily was clearly in awe, “I don’t know. Looks like some sort of grimoire.”

Timothy frowned at that. His family had never been particularly religious. It didn’t define their personality, but they still went to church every Sunday. The first thing they teach you as a Christian child is that those who commune with Satan are evil. There were two columns of items... one good and aligned with God and one bad and alighted with Satan.

He thought back to his first day in Outpost 3. At first, he had dismissed it as a trauma-induced hallucination. “What kind of school has grimoires?”

“Religious studies?” Em offered. She motioned to the book, “let me see. Not going to lie, I’ve always been fascinated by these things.”

Emily carefully handed the book off to her. It was so heavy Em nearly dropped it as soon as Emily handed it over. Struggling ever slightly, she turned through the pages.

“See anything?” Emily asked after a few moments of silence.

The pages were well kept. A few water marks marred the writing and bled the ink. Most of it was illegible... in some language she didn’t understand with few English translations scattered throughout. The clearest page called to her, a large circular design taking up most of it.

“Summoning circles,” she muttered, fingers tracing over the design and tracing down towards the words written underneath.

“What?” Timothy asked, scooting closer.

“They're used in rituals to summon things.”

“Such as?”

“Good intentions, luck, money, sprits...”

“...Demons” Timothy finished.

“Exactly!”

“So... like a pentagram?” Emily asked, arms crossed and brows furrowed in thought.

“Kind of?” Em admitted, “pentagrams are actually symbolic of fire, water, earth, air, and spirit. It’s actually supposed to be used in protection.”

Timothy looked up at the sky with a bemused laugh, “I’m not even going to ask how you know that.”

“I had a friend that practiced Wicca,” Em told him, “... and I used to get bored and look up random stuff at 3 am when I couldn’t sleep.”

She quickly turned her attention back to the book, “this seems to be summoning... damn! The name is smudged.”

Emily, whose head was resting on the other girl’s shoulder, looked at the other two with a grin, “do we dare?”

“No. Nope.” He said, holding his hands up in the air and marching a few steps away and turning back towards them with a sigh, “I’m not messing with that stuff.”

“It’s the end of the world, Tim,” Em said, “if I haven’t seen a demon yet I doubt I ever will.”

“Maybe we can sacrifice Venable,” Emily whispered to the two, her counterpart laughing while her boyfriend continued to have an existential crisis.

Em seemed to consider the option, “or Coco. Spare us another conversation about influencer culture at the very least... I’d sell my soul for that.”

Smoky laughed and Timothy could only groan, hands covering his face.

“C’mon,” he pleaded, “this is literally textbook horror movie stuff.”

“You don’t have to join if you don’t want to,” Emily reassured before turning back to the other girl, “what do we need?”

Em hummed and read through the list once more, “a candle, a drop of blood, the incantation, and a summoning circle.”

“Really? No sacrificial chicken or anything?”

“I can start the summoning circle if you can get the sowing kit from my room. It’s in my desk.”

Emily nodded and left the room. Em fathered the book and wandered to the tables, putting it down and pulling her sketchbook out from her pockets as Timothy reluctantly followed in her heels.

Not bothering to sit, Em leaned over the table with her pencil in hand. Hair that now curled down to her shoulders fell into her face and she let out a huff before pulling out a ribbon and tying it out of her face.

“Tim,” she asked, not looking up as she carefully replicated the circle, “can you hand me some of those candles over there?”

With a reluctant sigh, the boy shuffled to the corner of the room. Wobbling the candle stand as carefully as he could, he dragged it across the floor and towards the table. It was like watching a child protest bedtime, dragging their feet and taking as long as possible for every task that brought them closer to sleep.

“This is a horrible idea.”

It was Em’s turn to sigh, “these things are like Bloody Mary. It scares us for a moment, but ultimately nothing happens.”

“Did you ever do Bloody Mary?”

She smirked, “The drink or the game?”

Timothy crossed his arms and stared at her, unamused.

“No,” she admitted, finally turning to look him in the eyes, “I was a child and I was scared and I wouldn’t even look in mirrors for a month after I heard the story. My dad finally had enough and forced me to do it... and here I am. Nothing happened.”

Timothy broke eye contact. He wasn’t expecting such an honest response and didn’t quite know how to follow it. How was he supposed to talk about the incident without sounding crazy?

Em watched the slight twitch around Timothy’s mouth. He looked shifty, eyes not focusing on any one thing. She stared at him deadpan and water for him to speak.

Finally, his eyes rested in her. To his surprise, she was still looking at him.

“What?” He asked.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. I was a psych major, remember?”

“I thought you switched to English.”

“That’s beside the point.”

Silence. One beat. Then two.

“Out with it,” she insisted.

“Something weird happened,” he blurted as she finished her sentence, her eyes widening in surprise at his sudden forwardness, “when we first got here.”

“What happened?”

Timothy opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of creaking doors interrupted him. Em... maybe he could trust. He knew logically that he could trust Emily as well, but... god, it sounded crazy.

“It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.”

Em moved to insist, but as she watched Emily come round the corner she also saw Timothy’s tensions leave his body.

“Forget about what?” Emily asked, looking between the two.

Timothy tensed as Em began to speak.

“He was telling me about a time he had a sleepover and tried the Bloody Mary chant.”

Timothy let out the breath he was holding.

“Dad thought it would be a good idea to play with the circuit breaker,” he finished, sending a grateful smile to Em, “my brother jumped so high he nearly got his head stuck in the ceiling.”

“See?” Emily said, squeezing Timothy’s arm, “you have nothing to worry about. Demons don’t exist.”

“What about Venable?” Em asked

Emily smiles and turned away from her lover, “lucky for us, in her case, it’s only metaphorical.”

The two began to set up the ritual, moving the candles according to the instructions — a semi-circle formation on the side of the symbol farthest from her. Em made sure they were melted to the table to prevent a fire. Then they would summon an actual demon by the name of The Cooperative. The symbol stood front and center, wax dripping onto its corners.

Emily and Timothy stood back, arms linked together. His hands dig into the fabric of her sleeve and she offered a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s going to be fine,” she whispered.

Em began the ritual, book in front of her for reference.

“quaesitor existunt veritatis,” she read, then pricked her finger with a needle. The blood welled up and she pressed on the wound until it dropped and stained the paper with crimson, “pondera excitare restitueret.”

Three times she repeated the phrase, drilling blood into one flame, then the next, then the next. Then she let it sit in silence. One second. Nothing. Another second. Nothing. A third—

“Raah!” Emily yelled, grabbing her boyfriend’s shoulder and shaking him.

“Shit!” Timothy cried, crossing himself as he fell backward off the table he had been sitting on, “get away from me!”

Emily and Em erupted into laughter. It took Timothy a few moments to realize he was in no danger and once he looked up at them they burst into laughter again, holding each other. Someone snorted which made the peals of laughter start up again.

He laid his head back on the ground and closed his eyes, arms draping over his forehead as he calmed his racing heart.

“You guys are horrible.” He sighed, a smile forming despite himself.

“All... Emily’s,” Em said between hysterics, “are some form... of chaotic.”

“I’m sorry,” Emily said, doubling over with tears in her eyes as she grabbed onto the other woman’s arm, “you just—“

Her stomach hurt and her lungs burned and she loved every minute of it. She looked up to Em who made the sign of the cross over her chest before crossing her fingers and holding them out in front of her.

“The power of Christ compels you!” She cries out between shaking breaths, doubling over again. Even Timothy began to laugh, shoulders shaking as he tried to picture what he must have looked like.

“If you three are finished with your magic tricks,” a voice came from the door, Mead’s figure looming as they bit their lips and held their breath to keep from giggling, “dinner is in five.”

Shaking her head, the older woman made her way back to the door, grumbling but unable to hide her amusement, “Damn kids.”

Giggling faded I to unrelenting grins that made flushed cheeks even redder. Em and Emily’s eyes were red and puffy from crying. Gathering up the remnants of their decorum, they held out their hands to Timothy, pulling him up to his feet.

He looked at the two of them up to the ceiling as if he were asking it for guidance.

“Fuck you,” he finally settled, a chuckle escaping him and greatly amusing the girl that leaned against him as they began to walk.

“Careful with that word,” Em warned, walking backward to address the pair, seriousness taunting the fun demeanor she tried to keep up, “Venable would love a reason to cook all of us up for dinner.”

------------------------------------------

No one spoke anymore. There was nothing to speak about. They stared ahead, eyes vacant of life. Their bodies were moving, but their minds had long since given up and resigned themselves to fate.

Coco didn’t even bother with her hair anymore. Gallant had cut it when they hit the fourth-month mark and the humidity had made it curl into the shape of an orb around her head. Gallant himself hadn’t bothered to even change clothes in the past week...or was it two? Em was almost grateful for the pandemic and subsequent quarantine that occurred before they went subterranean. It had taught her the importance of a schedule for her mental health.

Venable was the only one that kept up with appearances. Red hair never had a strand out of place and not a single piece of fuzz could be found on her black dress. She sat straight at the end of the table, back straight as a board and her eyes full of contempt as she looked upon her charges. The ironwoman seemed to be searching for something as she stared at each one of them in turn.

Em did her best to ignore the intertwined hands of the couple beside her. God knows Venable was itching to torture them. Em had faced many people like the red-haired horror. She knew how to ignore something without making it obvious… passive manipulation.

If she was being honest, part of her was somewhat jealous of the happiness her friends had found… but she also knew how dangerous love was, even more so given their circumstances.

Venable’s cane struck the floor like a gavel, heads slowly turning towards her like zombies at the control of a necromancer.

“I have an announcement,” she said, nodding to the half of a cube that sat before them. Em could feel her stomach gurgle, felt the hot feeling of her own stomach acid digesting her organs. “This will be our last breakfast. We’re cutting back to one meal a day.”

Coco’s jaw dropped, but she didn’t have the energy to make a scene, “you can’t be serious.”

“An effective dieting technique,” Evie declared.

“Yeah, so is starving to death!”

Em sighed, running a hand through her hair, pulling it back before letting it fall around her shoulders once more.

“Perhaps we should move meals to breakfast instead of dinner,” Em proposed, “having fuel at the beginning of the day may—”

Venable’s eyes narrowed, head cocking to the side ever slightly.

“Are you questioning my judgment?”

“Yes.”

Damn surviving. She’d rather become everyone’s next meal that deal with the bitch for a single second longer. Starvation had lowered her control and her tolerance for the bullshit Venable had a knack for. She’d rather die tearing apart a tyrant than live bowing her head to one.

“May I remind you that I was assigned to this outpost for a reason.” Venable said, leaning back in her seat and letting the silence sit for a moment before she continued, “and unlike some, I was able to graduate college.”

Em had tried to be kind to the woman in the beginning. She had tried to take initiative by counting resources and assessing tools at their disposal, but as soon as the woman’s cane crossed the threshold her only message to Em was to sit down and shut up.

Gallant scoffed as he looked between the two, “How are we supposed to survive on half a cube?”

Venable pulled her eyes away from Em’s, “it’s not optimal, but also not impossible. Either way, we have no choice. Not if we want to keep eating at all.”

Em, Timothy, and Emily looked to another, trying to look for reassurance but finding none. For once Venable wasn’t wrong.

Gallant scoffed and stared down his fellow residents. How could they stay silent? He wasn’t going to let Venable starve him to death. They should cut the Grey’s meals instead, he reasoned, they paid for their tickets… or at least, Coco’s father had.

“I fucking can’t do this anymore!” She cried.

Sensing the collecting anxiety at the table, Dinah stood and addressed them all, “We don’t know how strong we are until we have to face adversity. This could be an opportunity for all of us to grow.”

“Finish that bumper sticker shit you used to say on your show, and I’m strong enough to shove this fork in your neck!” Gallant yelled, table clattering as he jumped to his feet brandishing his chosen weapon.

Em rose hesitantly, hands up and trying to get Gallant’s attention, “She’s not the one you're mad at.”

The hairdresser didn’t hear him, continuing to rave like a madman and Em fell back in her seat, head bowing and cradled in her hands. She was so tired. She was tired of the tantrums, tired of the hunger. Her ribs were showing through her skin, each and every piece of her spine sticking out as if she were a cactus instead of a person. They were all ghosts. Their bodies had yet to catch up with them.

Before all this she had dreams… to make it big as an artist or an author or anything. Having those dreams crushed made Em wonder if it was better to just give up. Certainly would be more peaceful. If only the grimoire had a spell to bring back her motivation for just living.

Quaesitor existunt veritatis pondera excitare restitueret.

“What was that?” someone whispered beside her. Em realized she had been quietly chanting the words from the ritual. Pulling herself from the fog, she removed her head from her hands and sat up in her chair.

“Nothing.”

Before Emily could note her friend’s odd behavior, the sound of porcelain shattering pulled them back to Gallant’s tantrum.

“What are you going to do?” Gallant demanded, bouncing like a wrestler in the ring and glaring daggers at mead, “Shoot us all? Huh? What are you going to do?”

The First moved forward to apprehend the man, towering over him like he was a child about to be thrown in time-out. Venable rose, opening her mouth to speak.

They were quickly deafened by alarms, red lights flashing. Em closed her eyes, suddenly blinded as she rose to her feet and fell back to the wall behind her.

“Perimeter alert,” The Fist said, “There’s been a breach.”

They all looked to Venable, but she was just as alarmed as they were. Em’s eyes immediately went to Emily’s. She was leaning against timothy, eyes turned up towards the ceiling and her hands curling around his arm. Everyone was frozen, suddenly back where this all began — the emergency messages that blared and told them the world was dying and taking them down with it.

“Back to your rooms!” Venable barked, “All of you!”

“If it’s a breach we should prepare a defensive position,” Em cried over the alarms, “If it’s cannibals—”

“This is my outpost!” Venable snarled, stalking towards her until her face was inches from her own, “and I am telling you to stand down and return o your rooms.”

Em could feel someone tugging at her arm, but paid it no mind.

“The noisiest flies are the first to be squashed,” Venable said.

“I fear more for the wasp in a beehive.”

Another tug forced her to turn towards the source. Emily was reaching out to the brunette, one hand on Timothy who was trying to drag her from the dining room.

“It’s not worth it,” She hissed, pulling the girl close, “pick you battles.”

Em snatched back her arm, “I’m tired of waiting for a hill to die on.”

With one last scathing look to Venable, she grabbed a knife from the table and stormed from the room. If she was to live out of spite so be it.

--------------------------------

Em paced back and forth in her room, crossing it in three strides before turning on her heel and starting the whole process all over again. Her hands ran through her hair, tying it up and taking it down, braiding and upbraiding.

Waiting to see what her fate was infuriated her. Waiting infuriated her. If this was an attempted break-in by cannibals or monsters her room was the last place she wanted to be — it cornered her. No, the best defensive position would be —

She groaned and forced herself to sit at her desk, leg bouncing up and down. She wished she was one of the wardens, working alongside The Fist. At least then she’d be doing something. They all acted like the purples were the ruling class, but it was a lie. The Greys outnumbered them and could take over whenever they could. Venable could have them killed in a heartbeat. What they had was only an illusion. When the time came for them to finally wield it their hands would only meet empty air, leaving them to fall to an unsightly demise.

The alarm had stopped blaring, at the very least. Spared her from another migraine.

She jumped as a knock came at her door, raising to her feet and trying to seem as if she wasn’t in the process of losing her sanity. The voice that left her didn’t feel like her own, detached and far too formal.

“Come in.”

A creak filled the room and a Grey appeared, freshly laundered clothes in hand. She bowed her head to Em as she entered before moving to place the garments on her bed.

“Thank you,” Em said reflexively. The Grey turned to her, eyes on the ground.

“Do you want me to do your hair for you, miss?”

“What?” Em asked, hand going to feel the remnants of braids still in her hair. Heat rose to her neck. She must have looked like a raving mad man. “Oh… no. Thanks for asking.”

With another bow, the girl scurried from the room, letting out a gasp as she ran into The Fist right outside the door. A quick and fearful apology left the Grey before she disappeared down the hall, door left wide opened.

The Fist’s hand, which had been held up to knock, fell back to her side. “May I?”

“Please,” Em invited, rounding the bed to place the clothes the Grey had brought in aside for the time being, “it’s been a while since we last talked.”

The ability to look past the color-coded rulebook Venable enforced served her well as long as the woman never found out. Even the Wardens, strong enough to take her down by force, feared the woman… or perhaps trusted Mead so much that they bought into whatever demands Venable spat out. Em just needed them to doubt their orders if the time came when Venable ordered her death.

“How’s the research going?” The Fist asked, nodding to the pile of book balancing precariously on the edge of her desk. Em spared them a glance and sighed, shaking her head.

“You’d know more than those moldy things,” She said, the other woman smiling ever slightly, “is there anything we can do to create a self-sustaining food supply?”

The Fist’s smile faded, lips twisting as she thought, sauntering over to her books and reading the titles, “I know I once made a post about a special facility made to store seeds… problem is, we don’t have means for inter-continental travel.”

“Would the Cooperative?”

“That would be a call for Miss Venable,” she said with a shrug, “Right now our best decision is rationing.”

“I don’t like those odds.”

The Fist tried to offer a reassuring smile, but the truth was they wouldn’t last the rest of the year even with rationing. She had tried to press for explorative missions, but Venable said they couldn’t expend the manpower. They might as well fire all their ammunitions into the walls.

Em couldn’t help the frustrated sigh that left her. Biting her lip, she tried to think of any other option than sitting and waiting for the end. “Do we know anything about the composition of those nutrient bars?”

“I couldn’t find any documentation,” The Fist admitted, “The cooperative should be able to provide if we keep to the plan.”

The brunette scoffed, “Venable’s plan.”

In two strides, The Fist came to stand beside her. If she wanted, she could have snapped her like a twig. Instead, she placed a hand on Em’s shoulder.

“She was put in charge for a reason.”

They were interrupted by a blood-curdling scream that made Em nearly jump into the woman’s arms. The Fist hurried to the door, ducking her head through the doorway and standing there for a moment with her hand on her utility belt.

“Wait here.”

The door slammed shut behind her and Em moved to follow, but became distracted. In the sudden silence, a whispering sound could be heard. She couldn’t quite pinpoint it. It surrounded her like she was in a giant bubble, sometimes wandering to her left or her right like a beast that kept moving when she turned to look at it.

Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on the sound.

“Quaesitor existunt…” she swore she heard, too faint to be certain. It was a breeze in the trees, gone before you knew it was there, “veritatis pondera….”

No. That was stupid. Demons didn’t exist. She was just being paranoid. Shaking her head, she made her way to her closet. It was a busted pipe, she reasoned as she picked up a candelabra to at leave give her something to see by.

The second the door creaked open, the whispering sound became louder. Then, from the depths of the shadows, a snake dropped down from above. Em jumped back with a gasp, slamming the closet shut and landing on top of her bed. Cautiously, she opened it once more. She stood far enough away to be safe, but close enough to examine. It was black… head rounded instead of pointed…

Em placed the candelabra on her desk and reached for the pile of clothes she had placed aside. Throwing them aside without much care, she founded what she needed in the pile. Working quickly, she twisted the wire of a hangar into as straight of a line as she could manage.

“Hello there,” she cooed, placing the metal in front of the snake and tapping it gently against its mouth. Patiently, she waited until the snake became irritated and bit at the wire. Swooping in, Em grabbed it by the neck the little beasty hissing and thrashing its tail. If it had been a thicker snake, it may have been able to wrangle itself from her hands, but it couldn’t have been bigger than a rat snake.

Once it had calmed some, Em reached for its tail and examined its underbelly. Best thing about an apocalypse was having an obscene about of time to read. There, near the end of the tail, two rows of scales sat.

“You’re nothing but a sweetheart, aren’t you,” She cooed, loosening her grip only slightly. It wasn’t venomous, proving her point as it opened its mouth to hiss once more, wriggling around in an attempt to free itself. She much preferred the company of real snakes to their metaphorical human counterparts.

Keeping a close eye on her new pet, Em walked out the door and right into Miss Miriam Mead. The woman got a good face full of hissing snake and stumbled back a few steps with a gasp. Her tone quickly turned from one of surprise to irritation.

“You too?”

Em smiled at the woman, “can I keep it.”

Mead scoffed and shook her head, but Em could see the fleeting smile on her lips as she procured a bag. “put it in there.”

Mead always reminded Em of a frustrated but amused mother. The smile quickly returned as Em plopped the creature into what looked like a wriggling mass of its brethren.

“First witchcraft, now snakes,” Mead tried to chide, “you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Does this have anything to do with the breach?” Em couldn’t help but ask.

Mead pretended not to hear, occupying herself with closing up the bag of snakes, “Any more?”

“Not sure.”

They both turned to The Fist as she approached, Mead giving a nod towards Em’s room. Dutifully, The Fist went inside. Both of them stood in the doorway and watched as her room was rummaged through. She was lucky she had hidden her banned items under a loose floorboard ages ago.

By the time she was done, two other snakes had been found and the two wardens wordlessly went on their way.

“Venomous ones have pointed heads, fangs, and a single row of scales on their anal plate,” Em called out once they had made it partway down the hall.

She could see Mead chuckle and shake her head. Em’s eyes flickered from the back of Mead to that of The Fist. The latter clearly respected the former immensely.

Locking the door behind her, she made her way to the library. Venable’s pawns could be easily swayed, but her knight would be more of a challenge.

--------------------------------------

Dinner time came around once more and once more Em had been forced to leave her book-filled sanctuary to play nice with all the residents... not that she was particularly the nice sort when with them. She used to be nice. At least, she liked to think she was.

Why was “nice” always just pretending you weren’t angry or annoyed? If one looked into the human mind they’d probably find that not a single one of them was truly “nice.” Everyone got annoyed, everyone got angry, everyone hated someone else. Yet, here they sat around the table once more, acting like they were refined and polite yet still being shocked when, as always, their humanity shines through.

Philosophical pondering was always far more interesting then whatever conversation was going on between this lot. Today, however, was an oddity. The table silent.

At least they weren’t eating cubes tonight... and she knew what exactly was in the soup. She was drawn from her reverie at the smell of it, mouth watering even before the Greys had entered the room.

They quickly straightened their silverware and gracefully draping napkins across their laps. Perhaps the silence was due to the last outcome of Venable’s hospitality.

Dishes clinked and Em smiles at the Grey who placed her meal before her. She eyes the others, waiting before she took a single bite.

Coco also eyed the food, watching the Greys serve them one by one. Her nose crinkled as she eyes what this evening had in store for them. “I have a rule against eating things with no legs or too many legs.”

“Oh, right,” Andre snipped, rolling his eyes. He had gone from denial to anger to depression and now back to anger in the past year. Grief never did like to be linear. “But you’re fine eating something with two legs.”

“For the last time!” Gallant snapped, “we didn’t eat your boyfriend!”

Mead sighed from her left, “Eat it or don’t. No one’s going to force it down you.”

“Adversity makes strange bedfellows,” Dinah notes, sending a pointed look to her son, “and worse dinner companions.”

Andre’s lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes flickered to anywhere that wasn’t his mother.

“It’s food,” Dinah reminded them all, “and we’re starving. We should be grateful for the fruits of the earth.”

Em quelled a groan as she watched Evie preen like a bird, signaling a story was about to begin. The old woman straightened her back and puffed out her chest before leaning against the table.

“Steamed snake soup is actually quite delicious,” she informed them.

“Jesus Christ,” Gallant whispered from the other side of the table, Evie’s hearing far too terrible to know that they were smiling more at her grandson’s distress than her tale.

“It was the centerpiece of a dinner I attended at Kuala Lumpur with Gina Lollobrigida.”

“The only time I’ve seen someone eat a snake,” Em noted, “was on that Bear Grylls survival show.”

Gallant’s head rose from his hands as he snorted out a laugh. Mead even smiled at her left.

“You’re lucky we’re not making you eat grubs.”

On her right, Emily was nearly buzzing in anticipation. As soon as Mead stopped speaking she was quick to address Venable, sitting on her hands as if she were resisting the urge to raise her hand — the only sign an untrained she could find that would display her eagerness.

“So, who’s in your office.”

Venable was off-put by the question, raising her head as if she had dozed off at the end of the table and was slowly rousing, “I beg your pardon?”

“The alarms went off before,” Emily notes, “someone came inside.”

Em turned to her friend in surprise. Someone was here? In the outpost? From outside? Venable allowed them to come inside?

“Who else is here?” Timothy insisted as Venable failed to respond.

Venable looked less than pleased but masked it well as the patience of a mentor trying to evoke the same quality from their student.

“All questions will be answered in due course.”

“And hoarding knowledge makes the flock more controllable,” Em said.

“Eat.” Was Venable’s only response, tapping her cane to signify the end of this particular conversation.

Em reluctantly fell in line with the others, obediently raising the covering of their soup. Hissing erupted from the bowls, snakes slithering across the table just as scared as the residents that jumped backward with screams of terror.

Mead’s eye’s widened as she witnessed the rebirth of the snakes she had personally beheaded, looking to Venable for answers. The woman had none, eyes widening in horror at the sight before her. This was not her orchestration, her design.

Some people ran in terror, Em froze. This time felt differences a fog had encompassed her mind and the world around her became a distant memory. A buzz filled her body and her ears, the screaming of others sounding far, far away. Did they even exist in the first place?

Her head tilted to the side as the black snake from before slithered towards her, curling around her arm. It feared its head upwards. Not to attack, but simply to look at her. She looked into its eyes and felt like she understood the world in its entirety. The weight of the world was not suffocating but consuming. She wanted to be consumed by it. She wanted —

The snake dropped from her arm to the floor and she was back, blinking away the fog as one blinked away sleep. The buzzing sensation left her and her surroundings rushed over her like ice water on a hot summer’s day.

#michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x oc #michael langdon #ahs #ahs apocalypse #ahs x reader #long fic #slow burn #AO3

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joyful-soul-collector · 4 years

Text

Trick or Treat

@van-lukas asked: Hey, for your celebration! Pearl Thief characters + trick or treating

Thank you for this request! I had a lot of fun writing it!!

300 Follower Celebration!

“Tay look! It has a tail just like mine!” Loch squealed, spinning round and round, trying to get a good look at the tail of his shark onesie costume. Tatum and Art laughed, and Art leaned down to straighten the hood.

“I can see that,” Tatum said as Art stood upright again. “Teeth like you too.”

Loch frowned and stuck a little finger in his mouth, feeling the sharpness of his teeth.

“My tee’ ah’ no’ shar’!” Loch said, the finger still in his mouth. He took it out again with a small pop then bared his little teeth, standing on tiptoe and throwing his head back so that Tatum could see. He had to hold one hand on his hood so it didn’t fall off while the other gripped Tatum’s leg, keeping him steady as he wobbled on his toes. “See? Not sharp!” he said, his teeth still clenched together.

“Oh yes, my mistake,” Tatum said warmly, ruffling Loch’s hair as he thumped back onto his heels, and began to examine his jack-o-lantern trick-or-treating bucket. The warmth immediately evaporated as Tatum fixed Art with a glare.

“My brother is dressed like a fish,” he said bluntly. “Why.”

Art glanced up from the tunic of his costume he was adjusting, then rolled his eyes at the look on Tatum’s face.

“I told you, it’s Halloween and we’re going trick-or-treating. Seven just about had a stroke when they found out you two had never been trick-or-treating before, and insisted we all go together this year,” Art said, securing his crown a little more firmly on his head.

“Yeah, I know all that, but why is Loch a fish,” Tatum said. “And why do I have this weird cape thing on?”

“Cuz that’s what you do on Halloween, you dress up,” Art said.

“Yeah but why,” Tatum said, dragging out the last word in frustration. Art laughed and grabbed the small tube of fake blood off the picnic table.

“For fun, Tatum,” he said, walking over to where Tatum stood. “I’m sure there’s some historical reason for dressing up on Halloween but really it’s just for fun. Now stay still, no vampire costume is complete without the fake blood.”

“I don’t even know what a vampire is,” Tatum grumbled, but he obeyed Art’s request and kept still while the sticky red paste was applied to the sides of his chin.

“They’re these creatures that suck people’s blood. There’s lots of movies and books and stuff about them, they’re pretty cool,” Art said, capping the tube and using his finger to smear the blood into shape. Tatum spoke when Art took a moment to wipe his finger on a napkin.

“Why the hell would people like something like that?” Tatum said, one eyebrow cocked skeptically. Art shrugged.

“There’s just a lot of stories and interpretations I guess,” Art said, turning back to the picnic table and putting the tube back in in his bag before starting to rummage around for a comb. “And a lot of people think of them as some sort of sexy, magical, forbidden love type thing, especially after the Twilight books came out--” Art cut off with a small gasp as he felt warm hands on his waist and Tatum’s breath against his ear.

“Sexy, magical, forbidden love, huh?” he said in a low, slightly amused voice. “Sounds fun.”

Art snorted and twisted around to face him.

“Yeah I’m not kissing you until we wash that fake blood off,” Art said, and Tatum made a mock-offended look.

“Well had I known I wouldn’t be allowed to kiss you then I wouldn’t have let you make me a campfire,” Tatum said, releasing Art’s hips and frowning at him.

“Vampire,” Art corrected.

“That’s what I said.”

“No it’s not!” Loch piped up, finally taking his gaze off of his trick-or-treat bucket. Tatum and Art both stared at him for a moment, then looked back at each other.

“I did not realize he was still listening,” Tatum said quietly. Art burst into laughter, and Loch giggled along happily, even though he couldn’t have had any idea why Art was laughing.

“You three better not be havin’ fun without me!” said a loud voice coming from the parking lot. Art turned and saw Seven making their way down the ramps to the beach on their crutches. They were wearing the costume Art had rented for them: blue robes with white stars and a matching pointy hat, though they weren’t wearing the fake beard that had come with the costume, and had instead gone for tying their white hair in a ponytail under their chin.

Of course, Art thought, smiling as Seven hobbled closer.

“Hey Sev!” Art said.

“Seven!” Loch squealed, running as fast as his little legs could carry him and colliding with Seven’s legs before anyone could stop him. Seven stumbled but quickly righted themself, laughing at the obvious delight on Loch’s face.

“Hey there squirt! You excited?” Seven said, staring fondly down at the ball of glee by their legs.

“Yes! Yes yes yes!” Loch said, releasing Seven and bouncing on his toes happily.

“One excited little shark, check,” Seven said. Then they looked up at Tatum, smirking at his resting frown. “One angsty vampire, check.”

Tatum scoffed but couldn’t hide a small smile, and he nodded at Seven’s costume.

“What are you supposed to be?” he said.

“Art didn’t tell you?” they said, and they lifted one of their arms, still holding the crutch, and swung it around Art’s shoulders, leaning into him heavily. “We’re King Arthur and Merlin!”

Art didn’t see any sort of understanding enter Tatum’s expression, but he did raise his eyebrows at Art in amusement.

“Your name is Arthur, so you dress up like someone named King Arthur,” Tatum said.

“Oh shush, I’ve been dressing up like King Arthur every year since I was five, before I even changed my name to Arthur,” Art said.

“Does that mean you named yourself after King Arthur?”

“…No--”

“You hesitated,” Seven said.

“N-No, I didn’t!”

“No you didn’t hesitate or no you didn’t name yourself after King Arthur?” Tatum said.

“Both!”

“Uh-huh,” Seven said sarcastically, ignoring Art’s glare, and turning their attention to Loch again, who was gazing at Seven’s trick-or-treating bucket. Art noticed Loch’s nose twitching slightly as he gazed at the bucket, and he started to chew on his lip. Tatum and Art glanced at each other, but Seven was completely oblivious.

“We have matching buckets, don’t we squirt?” Seven said with a smile.

“I’m hungry,” Loch answered, not seeming to have heard what Seven said at all. Seven’s grin softened, and they chuckled sympathetically.

“Well it’s a good thing I brought us some sandwiches then,” they said, reaching into their bucket and pulling out four saran-wrapped sandwiches. Loch squealed happily as Seven tossed one to him. “They were giving them out at work so I brought some for you guys! I figured trick-or-treating would be more fun with some food in our bellies.”

But when Seven finally held one out to Art, he felt his heart start to pound.

“Oh, no it’s okay, you have that,” Art said, feeling guilt settle in his chest at the thought of taking something he didn’t need. But his words made Seven, Tatum, and even Loch look up and frown at him.

“It’s free food!” Seven and Tatum exclaimed at the same time. Art jumped at the sudden anger in their voices, and instantly started to wring his hands nervously.

“It-It’s a gift, Art,” Seven said, holding the sandwich out to him again. “I got it for you to eat. Please?”

“O-Oh… Right, yeah, of course. I’m sorry,” Art said quietly, taking the food and starting to unwrap it.

“It’s alright,” Seven said with a warm smile. Art took a bite.

“Thank you,” he said, and Seven nodded as they took a bite of their own sandwich. They all ate in silence for a moment, and Art tried his best not to mind the cardboard-like taste of the bread, knowing the other three probably didn’t notice nor care.

~~~

Apparently, Art hadn’t explained what trick-or-treating was very well, because when the first handful of candy was dropped into Tatum and Loch’s buckets, they looked back at Art with such surprise that he wasn’t sure if they ever actually knew what was supposed to happen after they said the words “trick or treat”.

“You mean they just… drop food into your bucket for free?” Tatum said to Art as they all walked down to the next house.

“Well you have to say ‘trick or treat’ first.”

“And they just… they just give it to you?” Tatum reiterated. The tone of his voice made Art look up. Tatum was looking down into his bucket with the most confused and oddly anguished face Art had ever seen on him. He looked ahead to make sure Seven and Loch weren’t paying attention, then put a hand on Tatum’s shoulder, stopping at the driveway of the next house.

“Tatum? Are you alright?”

“I… I uh…” he said, still staring at the candy. Then he looked up and said in a quiet voice, “I-I don’t understand. Why are they just giving it away? Don’t they need it?”

“Well… no. They don’t. They got it so they could give it to other people, the candy is supposed to be given to you,” Art said gently.

“That doesn’t make sense. I don’t catch fish just to give it to a stranger who asks for it. This is… I don’t…” Tatum looked back down at his bucket again, not looking any happier than he did before. Art sighed and put his hand on Tatum’s arm.

“Look, I know it doesn’t make sense to you right now, but let’s try and ignore that feeling for now. Let’s just have fun,” Art said. When Tatum still didn’t look up, art sighed and wracked his brain for ideas.

“Just… just pretend it’s like when Seven gave us sandwiches,” Art said. Tatum looked up with a frown.

“That’s not the same, Seven got those just for us, they’re not just giving out food like it doesn’t mean anything--”

“I know, I know, just pretend. If that’ll help you have a good time and feel less bad and confused, just pretend for now. We can sort it all out later, but I want you and Loch to have a fun time tonight, and you’re not going to have fun if you keep thinking about it like this,” Art said, and he straightened Tatum’s cape just for something to do. “Just… try not to think about it okay?”

“…Alright,” Tatum said with a sigh. “But I’m having a full-on existential crisis when we get back to the docks ok?”

Art laughed and gave him a kiss on the cheek, to which Tatum clearly couldn’t help but grin at.

“Okay. Let’s go, Seven and Loch are waiting for us,” Art said, nodding to where Seven and Loch were by the door, patiently waiting for them before they rang the doorbell. Well, Seven was patient, Loch was bouncing from one foot to the other, clearly doing his best not to just push the doorbell without them. Tatum laughed at his little brother and they hurried to catch up with them.

They trick-or-treated for the next couple hours before Loch began to whine that his legs were starting to hurt. At first Art thought Tatum would just put Loch on his hip and they’d keep going, but Tatum sided with his little brother, saying they should go back to the docks. It was only then that Art realized Tatum had been rubbing at his upper thighs for the past few minutes, a slight grimace on his face. It seems the three hours of time they had on land was coming to a close.

Art drove Seven to the shelter as it was closest, then quickly to the beach, where Tatum and Loch shed their costumes and jumped into the water. Loch immediately jumped back out again, eager to eat his candy, but Tatum stayed, helping sort and eat the pile of candy from his position in the water at the end of the dock. Though he did make a point to push himself up and give Art a kiss on the cheek since the fake blood had now been washed away.

Loch discovered his favorite candy was Jolly Ranchers, specifically the green ones, while Tatum’s favorite turned out to be plain Hershey chocolate. They both gave Art any Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups they found since it was his favorite and neither of them could stand the taste of peanuts.

They stayed up until Loch’s head was starting to droop with exhaustion, clearly crashing from his sugar high.

“You ready to sleep baby?” Tatum said, picking up Loch under the arms and bringing him into the water.

“‘M no’ tired,” Loch mumbled.

“Oh I know, but I am. So would you come go to sleep with me?” Tatum said with a smirk at Art. Loch seemed to take a moment to think before letting his head drop onto Tatum’s shoulder.

“Mmkay,” he said, curling up closer to Tatum’s chest and closing his eyes. “‘M all full of candy,” he said.

“Haha, I know. I can’t believe you didn’t give yourself a tummy ache,” Tatum said, ruffling Loch’s hair. Art smiled at the two of them, and Tatum bobbed up to give him a kiss goodnight before disappearing below the surface.

Art took a moment to gaze at the reflection of the full moon over the water, admiring the silver ripples dancing over the ocean, before heading home.

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flwrpotts · 4 years

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Missing you writing for Reggieronnie tbh

vik, my love, anything for u. ty for ur patience, ur a dream

it’s getting harder to be someone, but it all works out/

it doesn’t matter much to me

hiram lodge dies the first real morning of summer, a june day crisp and bloody with promise. veronica walks into her father’s study, heels sharp on marble, gearing up for another round in their endless boxing match, something satisfying about the punch and effort of it. she has a manila file tucked under her elbow, her lipstick dark and immaculate, ready for a clean victory.

“i can hardly believe you’d stoop this low, daddy,” she starts as she walks in, a whiny thread of moral righteousness seeping into her voice. she’s expecting his oily, serpentine grin and pretend obliviousness, but instead her father is slumped over at his desk, neck bent at an angle that strikes veronica as deeply wrong before she can even get to the source of why. his skin is blanched, hair hanging in his face. unmistakably dead.

her father, her own personal devil, a tumbler of rum still at his side like he’s about to wake up and take a sip.

“daddy?” veronica asks, voice stripped of all bravado, frightened and small. she resents her own weakness but cannot help it. the room is strangled of all air, panic thrumming loud in her wrist. she acts on gut impulse, on rare instinct. on that starving, hungry animal that lives in her ribs named lodge.

reggie is her rock bottom guy, despite it all. they haven’t talked besides cursory hellos and polite small talk in the halls in months, and yet, it’s his doorstep she ends up on. it’s not as if they’ve ever been really close, but there’s a weird sense of belonging to one another, exclusively. their upbringings have instilled in them this need to possess without attachment, an ownership that feels better than love. they’re the same sort of monster where it really counts.

“ronnie?” he asks her, toweling off his wet hair, t-shirt sticking to him in damp patches. he smells like cheap boy shampoo and damp air, strangely appealing, tender as a bruise. his eyes flick up her, still immaculately dressed, despite it all.

“i need to leave,” she says, all in a rush. she can’t bear to explain herself further. there’s nothing in her except for this wild impulse to get the fuck out, to leave riverdale like it’s a blade pressed to her throat, threatening to break skin. a vital artery is about to be hit, is already split open, hemorrhaging wildly.

“alright,” he says, and steps out, shutting the door behind him, firm with promise. “let’s go then.”

she wakes up with her hair in her mouth, her boarding pass and passport clutched in one hand. memory flashes vaguely within her- finding her father, going to reggie’s doorstep, slinging old fashioneds at the airport bar and closing her eyes to pick a random flight. reggie is asleep next to her, young looking with his mouth a little open. she sits up from where she’s been slumped against his shoulder, looks down at her boarding pass.

well. she’s always wanted to go to amsterdam.

the city is filled with blood and money. her and reggie get off the flight with nothing except their clothes and shiny black credit cards. it’s probably too conspicuous to pick the grandest hotel she can find, but veronica doesn’t care. they settle into the luxurious suite and veronica sprawls out on the king bed, liking the crisp feeling of fresh sheets against her face. it’s not been twenty-four hours, and yet she’s already a world away. a full-bodied sprint away from the grief threatening to capsize in her chest.

“so,” reggie says, all casual, scoping out the minibar. “you want to talk about it?”

there are sixteen missed calls from archie flashing on her phone. more from her mother. guilt sickens inside her, as real as a bad tooth.

“no,” she says, and that’s that.

in amsterdam they mostly just get high. their hotel balcony has a view of the whole city, and in the late afternoon reggie rolls joints on the terrace, which are honestly bad considering how much practice he’s had, but veronica doesn’t care enough to learn better. they pass spliffs back and forth as the sun sets, and veronica goes as relaxed as she ever can, legs slung in reggie’s lap and breath high and tight in her chest. everything ceases to exist, the world funneling down to the sound of reggie’s voice, telling her about the latest in the hockey season or his stupid-brilliant idea for a start-up.

they both have nightmares so the nights are for clubbing, staggering in and out of doorways, reggie’s face abstracting out under neon lights. they make fast friends with the sorts of boys who always have baggies full of powder in their pockets, and veronica is always off her face, smudged dark and volcanic in her tiny black dresses, chain smoking on the corner as reggie gets a cab.

they keep vampire hours, crawling into bed as the sun is beginning to rise, and veronica wakes in the late afternoons with her head pillowed on reggie’s bare stomach, soft skin under firm muscle. the days begin to loop in a way that could almost become comfortable.

they’re eating in breakfast in a tiny bakery when veronica happens to glance at the television screen behind her. lodge will reading on hold as hunt for teenage heiress continues! flashes across the screen, and panic spikes hot and sour in her stomach, nausea pulsing in her throat.

reggie watches her face carefully, like a sailor watching the waves. “change of scenery?” he asks, and in a handful of hours they’re on a flight to shanghai.

shanghai is warm and unfamiliar, full of crowded street and the pulse of city lights, the skyline strange and neon and absurdly lovely. they buy beer for four cents a bottle from the convenience store and veronica washes her hair with the thin, anonymous shampoo of hotel bathrooms and feels the edges of her personhood coming apart.

for some reason they still haven’t fucked. she doesn’t quite know why- she can see the way reggie watches her in the gray dawn as she peels off her sequined dresses and skimpy black lingerie to pull on his old, soft t-shirts with holes in the collars. she knows in an objective sort of way that he wants her, the same she feels a pulse of need low in her stomach when he places a cigarette in her mouth, or gets out of the shower with a towel slung low around his waist.

maybe it’s out of some sort of respect for archie. or maybe they’re just testing one another.

they’re drinking in the second tallest building in the world, the entire continent sprawled out beneath them as the sun goes down, and veronica is drunk and blinded with her own power, drinking her third martini too fast.

one of the absurdly powerful businessmen comes up to flirt with her, charming and pushing thirty-five, wedding band winking on his finger. veronica puts on her cattiest, big little girl smile, lets her slip dress slide further up her thigh, and watches as reggie grinds his teeth beside her.

they fuck in the men’s bathroom, much too nice for such behavior, thousands of dizzying feet above ground. her head clatters back against the mirror and reggie’s fingers are rough where they cover her mouth, trying to keep her quiet, thumb dipping against her lower lip. she pops four buttons off his white button down, and he has her silky purple dress hiked up to her waist, and veronica forgets the grief that lives salty and hot in her throat, forgets riverdale, forgets who she is at all.

in london they go out to high tea and act like proper young adults, visiting the museums and having extravagant picnics in the gardens. veronica spends absurd, frivolous amounts of time assembling the menu for such outings, fizzy champagne and sponge cake and charcuterie boards. the dreams are still bad, but in the mornings she reads in bed, blankets tucked up around her face, while reggie goes for runs around the city.

these days they are settled into something nearly resembling domesticity. she is fond of the jut of reggie’s ankle and the way he takes his coffee, his tacky watch and the bottle of hair gel left on the bathroom sink. this strange boy who holds her hair back when she vomits and cries in his sleep like a little kid, who always has something in his pocket to slip under her tongue when they’re in line for the club.

it’s reggie who notices one day that they’re being followed, a man slumped inconspicuously behind them in a coffee shop near their hotel, at the table next to them that evening in the restaurant. riverdale never really leaves you, that shadow world of gangs and serial killers and a wild, cartoonish violence, smearing blood on everyone’s hands so bright it was almost orange, ketchupy.

they leave in the dead of night, sneaking out of the elevator of the hotel, and veronica is almost enjoying herself, feeling like a spy or assassin, a heroic figure. for a glittering second she misses riverdale, that cold rush of adventure, but then reggie laces their fingers together and when she wakes up she’s buoyed back to sleep by the comforts of the jet plane around her, humming and steady, dark over the pacific.

in jerusalem they stay in the heart of the old city, and veronica feeds scraps to the street cats, cooing when she wins over their affection. they float in the dead sea and reggie swipes mud across her cheek and she tugs on his ankle as he floats to make him lose his balance. they visit the western wall and watch as the holy men write their wishes down on scraps of paper, shoving them into the crevices on the side of the wall, thousands and thousands of them.

“do you ever feel the compulsive urge to pull them out and start reading other peoples’ wishes?” reggie asks, whispering in her ear, and veronica can’t decide whether she wants to laugh or cry. she has that same tug in her gut, that same steer towards wrongness. they’re made up of the exact same stuff.

reggie hands her a post-it note to write a wish, but veronica crumples it up, lets it float in the bottom of her purse with the broken cigarettes and half empty lipglosses and six types of currency. she has no more wishes.

#mine #quarantine prompts #riverdale #reggie x veronica #veronica x reggie #veggie #riverdale fic

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carryonsimoncarryonbaz · 4 years

Link

My fic for the Carry On Countdown day 2 prompt Role Swap.

Simon returns for eighth year at Watford but to his dismay the roommate he's been pining over for three years is nowhere to be found. Simon searches for Baz, avoids Agatha and tries to come to terms with the feelings he has for his missing roommate.

Mirror Man

Simon

I run up the stairs to our room. I don’t know what I’m expecting. Baz never gets to Watford this early.

I do. Every time. I check myself out of care the day Watford opens the gates for the new school year.

Baz always shows up the night before classes start.

I just thought . . . I hoped . . . well, I suppose I really wanted this year to be different. That he’d come early, to savour our last year here. That I’d get a few more days with him.

The room is empty when I open the door. It doesn’t even smell like Baz anymore.

It smells a bit like the dirty socks I forgot in the corner.

He’s obviously not here.

I open the window to air out the room. Baz always fusses about the window but I don’t think he’d argue today--it’s warm and there’s a breeze.

And it might make the sock smell go away before he gets here.

I think about incinerating the socks but I don’t trust my spells yet. It’s hard after the months in care.

It’s hard in general. My spells are never reliable. It’s always hit or miss. Mostly miss.

I think about tossing my socks in the moat so the merwolves can choke on them, but that’s not being ecologically responsible so I end up washing them in the sink.

I put away the few things I brought with me from the home and hang up my new uniform.

And then I lie down on my bed and think about Baz.

Grey eyes.

Black hair.

That Baz is a vampire.

The fact that Baz Pitch is the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen.

And I’m hopelessly in love with him.

Emphasis on the hopeless part.

Baz hates me. He’s hated me since the day we met--the day the Crucible brought us together.

He hates me for being the Mage’s Heir. For doing the Mage’s bidding. He despises me for being so thick and such shit with my magic. For how I look, how I talk, the way I eat, the fact that I keep the window open at night.

For everything, I think. I thought I hated him too. I thought that was why I watched him all the time. Why I followed him, why I sparked the arguments with him, the reason I couldn’t let him out of my sight.

It was fifth year when I finally realized how I felt. The night I followed Baz into the Catacombs and found him by his mother’s tomb. Drinking from a flask and saying . . . saying things that made me rethink everything.

I stopped following him to the Catacombs after that. Even if he is a vampire, he still deserves privacy to grieve at his mother’s tomb undisturbed.

I stopped following him at all. For awhile.

I didn’t know what to think. And I couldn’t stop thinking.

About Baz.

The way his hair had fallen out of its usual slicked back severity that night to fall in waves that framed his face.

I liked that. I liked it a lot.

Or how his eyes had been half-lidded, his body relaxed as he rested against the stone wall of the Catacombs, his cheekbones highlighted by the flickering torchlight.

He was beautiful.

I’d never thought of him that way before but once I did, I couldn’t stop.

I wanted to touch his hair. Sweep it behind his ear and trail my fingers along his jaw. I wanted to look into his eyes and have all his focus be on me, to see his gaze soften as our eyes met.

I still want that.

That and a whole lot of other things.

I’m being stupid, of course. None of that will ever happen.

Baz can’t stand me. He barely tolerates sharing a room with me, if I’m going to be honest.

And even if he didn’t hate me, he’s dating the most beautiful girl at Watford.

Which means he’s straight.

He’s been with Agatha since the end of fifth year. They’re breathtaking together--her milky gold hair set off by his dark mane.

They match--both posh, both wrenchingly beautiful, both comfortable in the world of Mages, confident of their place in it.

And then there’s me. Simon Snow. Orphan. Filled with magic I can’t control. A weapon to fight the dark creatures that threaten our world. The Mage’s protege.

With a future that can only end in flames.

I’m supposed to be Baz’s nemesis.

I’m not supposed to be pining over him.

I look over at his empty bed, the way I’ve looked at it countless times over the past years, when Baz was actually in it.

This is our last year at Watford. This is our last year together.

These are the last few months I’ll ever have a chance to be this close to Baz Pitch.

Fuck it all.

I should probably quit moping and go find Penny. Stop obsessing over a boy I’ll never have.

It doesn’t stop me from picking up Baz’s pillow as I walk by his bed. I breathe in the faint hint of cedar and bergamot that clings to the fabric before I leave the room.

The days pass and Baz doesn’t come. He isn’t at tea when the first Visiting occurs. He’s not at the welcome-back picnic.

He isn’t in our room the night before the term starts and he doesn’t show up for classes the next day.

Or the day after that.

The professors stop calling out his name after the first week.

The rumors that fly through the dining hall are varied and absurd.

He’s gone off for a dark coming of age ritual.

He’s left Watford to work for his father.

He’s apprenticed himself to an herbalist, like his crazy aunt.

He’s vacationing in Ibiza.

I don’t believe any of it. Baz would never miss school. He wouldn’t leave eighth year unfinished.

He’d certainly never let Penny finish first in our class.

He wouldn’t abandon his mother’s legacy.

Baz wouldn’t do any of that. I know him. I think I know him better than anyone.

And I think something’s very, very wrong.

I start stalking his best friends Dev and Niall. I pester them with questions and harass them about Baz but I don’t think they know any more than I do. They’re vague and insulting when I corner them but there’s a hint of worry in their eyes when I do.

Agatha’s taken to sitting with Penny and me for meals now that Baz is gone, but she won’t answer any of my questions about him.

“I don’t want to talk about him, Simon. I don’t know where he is. I’m not his keeper.”

She sits next to me in class. She gives me the smiles she used to save for Baz.

It feels all wrong.

I scour the Catacombs for any sign of him. It’s overrun with rats down there, which tells me all I need to know. I won’t find him there.

I comb the Wavering Wood for clues. I hack at the underbrush and hack off the resident Dryad when I do.

“What do you seek, Chosen One?”

“I’m looking for my roommate, Baz.”

She glares at me as she twirls her parasol. “The blood-eater is not here, Mageling. Seek him elsewhere.”

“I’ve searched everywhere.”

“Then perhaps he doesn’t want you to find him.”

“Listen, if you do see him, could you let me know?”

“He is not here and you are a menace.” She turns away and floats back into the dimness of the forest.

Typical.

I see Agatha on the ramparts a few days later. I follow her up. I wonder if she’s waiting for Baz.

If she’s yearning for him like I am.

She’s a lovely sight, leaning over the walls, her hair streaming in the wind, her pale face lit by the moon.

She’s a vision in her white dress.

She’s also probably freezing. It’s cold up here.

Agatha turns when she hears my footsteps on the stones. Her eyes are wide and dark as she smiles at me.

It’s that smile. The one she used to have just for Baz.

“Were you looking for me, Simon?”

I wasn’t, not in the way she thinks at least.

I’m starting to get the idea that Agatha might be hoping I was searching for her.

I’ve probably given her a reason to think that. I’ve watched her with Baz for so long. Watched him take her hand, stared at her fingers as she curled a strand of his hair around her finger, seen her lean in close to whisper to him. Adjust his already perfectly knotted tie.

I’ve watched her do every single thing I’ve wanted to do to Baz since fifth year.

I’ve got a list.

And for the first time I realize I may have been giving Agatha the wrong impression. That she’s taken those longing looks and stares and assumed they were for her.

My stomach clenches at the thought. Merlin, I’ve made a mess of this. I never meant to lead her on.

I think back to the last time I saw Baz.

He was in the Wavering Wood--holding Agatha’s hands in his and staring at her so intently.

The way I wish he’d look at me.

I’d made a sound I think, as Penny clutched my arm, and they’d both turned to look at me--Baz’s gaze turning right back to Agatha in an instant, dismissing me in a way that made my heart squeeze painfully in my chest.

But Agatha had stared back at me--long and steady, almost appraising.

I didn’t know how she could take her eyes off of Baz, how she could turn away from him.

I never could. I’d never look away. I’d never turn my back on him.

But then the Humdrum had snatched me away before I could embarrass myself any further.

Agatha’s still waiting for an answer from me.

“Uh . . . um . . . I was just wondering why you were wandering the ramparts.” The next words come out before I think them through. “Are you waiting for Baz?”

The smile turns into a frown. “I’ve told you, Simon. I’m not his keeper. I’m not waiting for him. Not anymore.”

I’m not sure what she means by that.

“Then why are you up here? You don’t even have a coat. It’s bloody cold, Agatha.”

It is. The wind is icy and there’s been a distinct chill in the air all day. I see a shiver run through her as the next gust of wind washes over us.

I take off my duffel coat and drape it over her shoulders. She makes an attempt to protest but sinks into it gratefully when I insist, shoving her hands deep in the pockets. There’s a flash of white in her hand as she does, a piece of fabric clutched between her fingers.

“I just needed to clear my head,” Agatha says, leaning on the ramparts again, her shoulder brushing mine.

“And did you?” I don’t know why I’m making small talk but I can’t just leave when she’s wearing my coat, now can I?

Agatha turns to me, reaching out her hand to take mine. “I did.”

I’m not sure what she’s doing. Her fingers are cold as they thread between my own.

“I’ve been thinking, Simon.”

I swallow but I don’t have anything to say. I have the distinct feeling I’ve gotten myself into a situation here. And I’m likely to bollocks it up even further, knowing me.

“Thinking about you. And me. And Baz.”

Merlin and Morgana. It may be cold up here but I break into a sweat at her words. Can she know how I feel about Baz?

Bloody hell.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, Simon, but Baz and I broke up at the end of the school year.”

This is news to me.

“I didn’t . . . I hadn’t realized.” My mind is racing. Is that what was happening that day in the Wavering Wood? Had Baz broken up with her?

“No, I suppose you hadn’t.” She squeezes my hand. “You’re such a dear, you know.”

I’m starting to feel very uncomfortable.

“I made some realizations that day and came to the decision that Baz and I really weren’t suited for each other.”

She broke up with Baz? Who would break up with Baz?

I drop her hand. “Is that why he hasn’t come back?” I can’t quite keep the accusatory tone out of my voice.

“I’ve no idea. I haven’t spoken to him.” She flips her hair back. “I honestly don’t think he was all that upset about it. It wasn’t as if we were in love, or anything. We just sort of drifted together in the first place and then drifted apart. It happens.”

I blink. “But . . . but . . . you and Baz, you’re not . . . you aren’t . . .” I’m blustering. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Agatha broke up with Baz.

Baz, the boy I’ve loved for three years.

Baz, who hates me.

Baz, who’s missing.

“It was nice while it lasted, Simon, but it’s not like Baz is the only boy at Watford.”

He’s the only one for me, I think.

Agatha reaches out and puts her hand on my wrist. “We should go in, Simon. I’m sure you’re freezing.” She hooks her arm around mine and tugs me towards the stairs.

I’m in a daze. I’m not really paying much attention to what Agatha is saying until we’re at the bottom of the steps. Mummers is to our left and the Cloisters to our right. This is where we should part ways.

“It’s been nice sitting with you and Penny and getting a chance to get to know you.” She squeezes my arm as she says this and I’m on alert again. “I’d like to get to know you better.” It’s almost a purr and she’s smiling that smile at me again.

Oh.

“Ah . . . yeah . . . it’s been nice getting to know you too.” I’m stumbling over my words. “Uh . . . and for Penny too. It’s nice for her to have another friend.”

“Hmm. Yes, of course. Friends.” She draws the word out as she looks up at me from under her lashes and she’s a vision--all golden hair, deep brown eyes, milky skin. She’s gorgeous but all I feel is a sense of dread.

I have the distinct impression Baz’s ex-girlfriend is hitting on me. Which is not what I want in the slightest.

Fuck. This is all my fault. I was right--I’ve given Agatha the wrong impression. She’s obviously convinced I’ve been pining over her, rather than Baz. What a bloody mess. How do I manage to always bollocks things up?

I need to get out of here. Find a way to brush her off without pissing her off as well. Good luck with that. I’m shit with words.

“Uh . . . so I’ll see you tomorrow then?” I’m so stupid. That’s encouraging her. Merlin, I am absolute pants at this.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

Oh fuck. Tomorrow is Saturday. I wouldn’t have to see her at all and now I just put my foot in it. I’m a fucking disaster. How do I do this to myself?

“Um . . . see you at breakfast then.” I’m trying to minimize the damage. Maybe that’ll work. I unhook my arm from hers and take a few steps towards Mummers.

“Oh, Simon! Your coat.” Agatha starts to shrug out of it.

“No, it’s alright. You wear it. You’ve got the longer walk.”

Her lips curve up again. I know it’s supposed to be attractive but it just makes me more agitated.

She pulls the collar of my coat up, snuggles into it and says “Smells like you. Like a bonfire. Warm and cozy.”

And that’s it. I can’t have her keeping my coat. I can’t have her snuggling in it and looking at me this way and thinking about me like that.

“Um . . . why don’t I just walk you back now and I can take it with me then?”

That makes her look even happier.

Fuck.

She takes my arm again, pulling me close, and we start to walk towards the Cloisters, Agatha chatting at me the whole way there.

She’s talking about Christmas and the Club and the parties her parents have for the holiday. I catch about half of what she’s saying.

I can’t really pay attention. My brain has short-circuited at the idea that Agatha might be attracted to me.

I need to put a stop to this. I’ve accidentally led her on but now that I suspect she’s got an interest in me I can’t let it keep going.

Mostly because I’m not attracted to her that way.

But also because I know how hurt Baz would be to know Agatha turned her attention to me, after breaking it off with him.

Likely more furious than hurt. It would make him hate me even more.

It feels disloyal to him to even be walking with her this way--arm in arm, her head practically resting on my shoulder.

It’s a relief when we finally reach the Cloisters and Agatha slides my coat off. She hugs it to her for one instant before handing it back and my stomach plummets.

I put it on and busy myself with the buttons, backing away from the door as I do.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, Simon.” “See you at breakfast, yeah.” And then I make a run for it, literally jogging across the courtyard to Mummers and taking the steps two at a time to get to my room.

Bloody hell. That’s all I need now, Agatha taking a fancy to me. What a disaster. I jam my hands in my coat pockets as I walk to my wardrobe.

There’s something in the left hand pocket. I pull out a wadded bit of cloth.

It’s one of Baz’s handkerchiefs. I’d know it anywhere. It’s got his family crest on it: flames, the moon, three falcons. I clench it in my hand.

It’s what Agatha was holding.

I know there are half a dozen just like it in the drawer across the room but this one feels precious to me. I bring it up to my face and inhale.

It smells like Baz.

I’ll make this right with Agatha tomorrow. I’ll figure out what to do, what to say, to stop whatever she thinks is going on.

I tuck the handkerchief under my pillow.

Distancing myself from Agatha isn’t as easy as I’d hoped. She sits next to me at mealtimes. She’s in more than half my classes.

I’ve taken to studying in the room because she comes to the library to sit with me and Penny now. I’m sure it’s going to affect my marks, not studying with Penny, but it’s too awkward having Agatha there.

She bumped her leg against mine today and then kept it there.

I had to pretend to go look for a book in the stacks when shifting away from her didn’t work.

I should just tell her.

Not that I fancy Baz. I’m not telling anyone that. I haven’t even told Penny.

No, I’ll have to tell Agatha I don’t think of her that way. Which I’m sure will sound absolutely lame and ridiculous, as she’s the most gorgeous girl in school and the rest of the blokes would likely kill for a chance to date her, now that she’s not with Baz anymore.

I still wonder about that. I can’t imagine why she broke it off with him. I mean, yes, he’s a snide arsehole and an arrogant prick but he’s never been that way with her. He’s all courtly and chivalrous, polite and attentive. He’s fit and smart and posh as hell. An Old Family name and Old Family money. Quite the catch and drop-dead gorgeous to boot.

It doesn’t make sense.

Maybe it’s the vampire thing. But surely she knew before now? She couldn’t be dating him for three years and not know, could she?

I mean, I know.

And yes, fine, it’s not confirmed or anything. I haven’t caught him in the act of draining a rat. I don’t have proof, photographs, a written confession--all the things Penny demands as evidence.

But I know.

And I don’t care.

Really, I don’t.

He’s not that kind of vampire. I know he doesn’t go after people. It’s rats and rabbits and squirrels. It’s probably just enough for him to get by. He doesn’t even go after Ebb’s goats and they’re easy prey.

Except Ebb would likely incinerate him on the spot. She’s tetchy about the goats.

Baz has had every opportunity to drain me dry and he hasn’t--and it’s not just the Anathema that’s keeping him from it. He could easily have done it in the Catacombs. Or in the Wavering Wood. Fed me to the merwolves when he was done with me and blamed my absence on one of the Mage’s missions gone wrong. No one would have known.

But he hasn’t.

That has to mean something.

I know I was an arse about it fourth and fifth year. I’d shout about Baz being a vampire to anyone who would listen.

No one really did. They all thought I was mental.

And then, that night, when I saw him in the Catacombs by his mother’s tomb--that’s when I knew I was right.

I could see the freshly drained rats in the corner. I could see, even by torchlight, that his face had more color to it.

It was the circumstantial evidence that I’d been seeking but it felt hollow when I had it in my grasp.

I’d turned away. Left him there. Left him and went straight to the library.

To the Magickal Records.

To read everything I could about Natasha Pitch. And how she died.

It made sense then. They’d Turned Baz that day. It wasn’t written out anywhere or mentioned at all.

But knowing Baz, seeing him in the Catacombs, hearing what he said, reading the accounts--it isn’t that hard to piece it together. He was Turned the day his mother died.

He was a child and they killed his mother and Turned him. I’d happily incinerate the lot of them if Natasha Pitch hadn’t done it already.

Baz has been hiding it ever since. He’s been trying to live his life as a Mage and repress that other side of him.

All the pieces fell into place. Why he was so secretive. Why having a roommate--any roommate--would be torture for him. Why he kept his distance from almost everyone in our class. Except Dev and Niall, who are basically family or close to it.

And Agatha.

All I did was make life more miserable for him.

So I’d stopped. Stopped accusing him of being a vampire. Stopped following him down to the Catacombs. Stopped picking fights with him about every little thing.

But I couldn’t stop watching him. Couldn’t stop trying to stay close to him.

Couldn’t risk something happening to him.

Or the chance that someone would find out what he is. Especially the Mage.

I suppose you could say I was watching over him. That sounds better than stalking, I think.

We’d not been at each other’s throats by seventh year. We had a pattern. A way of moving around each other, navigating the spaces in our room, our interactions distant but almost civil.

It was what had made me so hopeful for this year. That maybe Baz was as tired of fighting as I was. That the first steps we’d taken last year might take us on a path to something different.

Not what I longed for but maybe, just maybe, we could find a way to be friends.

But he’s not here.

He’s not here and every day feels like the emptiness he’s left behind grows bigger.

It’s a weight on my chest, like I can’t take in a deep enough breath, as if there’s not enough air for me to breathe anymore.

The days pass.

I stop looking for Baz.

I know it’s not his step on the stairs. I know he’s not in the seat behind me in class. I know it’s not his feet rustling the leaves in the Wavering Wood (he’s much stealthier than that).

I know it’s not him on the football pitch.

He’s nowhere he should be and that hurts.

I avoid Agatha as best I can. I’ve taken to avoiding meals just so I don’t have to sit with her. Or I’ll just rush in, stuff my face for a few moments at the table, and then rush off to my room with a few bacon butties or scones in my hand.

Penny thinks I’m being ridiculous. “Just tell her you’re not interested, Simon.” She kicks my leg under the table. Agatha left breakfast early to finish her Political Science essay so Penny and I are finally, blissfully alone. “You’re not a good match, so just tell her already and let’s stop this hide and seek you’re playing.”

“I’m not playing hide and seek.”

“You practically run out of the room when she comes in and then she’s wandering around looking for you. It’s aggravating, Simon.”

“I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

Penny glares at me over her glasses. “You think it’s any better leading her on like this?”

I groan. “I don’t mean to lead her on, Penny. I thought she’d get the hint by now.”

Penny’s eyes narrow. “Communication, Simon. You can’t expect people to read your mind. Just tell her it’s a bad idea and move on.”

She’s right.

Confrontation unnerves me. This kind, I mean, the kind I can’t solve with my sword.

I’m good at confronting goblins and orc-upines and all manner of dark creatures, but I’m shit at talking about things like this. Feelings. Relationships. I’ve just got no clue how to go about it and I’m sure I’ll bollocks it up. I’m shit with words.

I grab fistfuls of my hair and groan again. “You’re right, Penny. I know. I’ll figure out a way to tell her.”

“There’s nothing to figure out, Simon. It’s just a short conversation. ‘Agatha, I just want to be friends.’ That’s it.”

“Ugh. I know.” I pull on my hair again. “Did I tell you she’s invited me home with her for Christmas?”

“Simon, you know you can’t go.”

“Of course, I’m not going to go. I’ll go back to the home, like I always do.”

Her eyes soften and she reaches across the table to take my hand. “I wish I could bring you home with me, Simon, you know I do.”

I squeeze her hand. “I know you do, Pen. You all barely fit as it is. You don’t need me sleeping in your bathtub.” I’m trying to lighten the mood. I know Penny hates the idea of me being in the homes. She was going to write a stern letter to the Mage about it fifth year but I wouldn’t let her.

“I’d sleep in the bathtub if it came to that, Simon. But Mum’s told me I can’t bring you, even if I spell you invisible. It’s just too much.”

I know it’s my magic. And me, in general. I put Professor Bunce on edge.

She’s sensitive to the overabundance of magic in me and it gives her a headache. And I’m generally in the way: knocking over stacks of books or messing up her papers or making a bollocks of a spell. It’s an effort to have me there for a weekend.

There’s no way she could tolerate me for all of Winter Break.

I can’t say Agatha’s offer isn’t tempting. I’ve never spent Christmas with people. In a house with a real tree and a fireplace and a holiday meal and people who actually like each other sitting around a table together.

There’s usually just a pathetic fake tree at the homes, with donated gifts beneath it, and a shoddy Santa on Christmas Day for the little ‘uns.

We usually get a sham of a Christmas dinner. Turkey and gravy, a dollop of lumpy mashed potatoes, brussels sprouts and then a pudding of sorts. There’s still never enough to make me feel full.

So I can’t say it’s not tempting. It is. More than Penny can imagine. But it’s not fair to Agatha to take her up on the offer.

If she were Penny I’d do it a heartbeat. But things are already far too awkward with Agatha and I can’t go under false pretences. I don’t want to be her boyfriend.

And I think she’ll rescind the offer when I tell her all I want is to be friends.

It’s fine. I’ve spent every Christmas of my life in the homes so far and I can manage one more. It’ll be the last one anyway.

I’m on my own once I graduate from Watford. Out of the care system forever.

I’m buttering another scone when the doors to the dining hall fly open. At first I think it’s another Visiting but when the figure steps through the doors my heart thumps hard enough to almost burst from my chest.

I know that face. I know it as well as my own.

Black hair.

Grey eyes.

Baz.

I stand up, knocking my chair over. Penny clutches at my sleeve.

He doesn’t look right. He’s too thin. Too grey.

He’s limping.

Baz.

Our eyes meet.

It takes everything in me to keep from running to him. Penny’s fingers are digging into my forearm. I think she’s going to leave bruises.

He’s not looking away.

I could never look away.

Baz

Snow is the first person I see, making as much of a racket as usual, surging to his feet and knocking over a chair as he does, the clumsy oaf.

I feel like I can breathe again at the sight of him. Something loosens in my chest at the familiarity of his face. Those ordinary blue eyes. Bronze curls in a tangled mess.

Our eyes meet and I can’t look away.

I don’t know why my gaze always targets him. No matter who else is in the room, I find myself seeking out Snow.

He’s thin. He shouldn’t be so thin. He looks as worn and strained as he does on the first day of term. This isn’t how Snow should look. His cheeks should be filled out by now, from the mountains of butter-slathered scones he’s devoured, the stacks of roast beef sandwiches he’s inhaled, the endless piles of bacon butties he loves.

I look like shit myself, if Fiona is any judge. I know I’m thin, frightfully pale and saddled with this ungainly limp still. Fuck the bloody numpties.

Snow hasn’t looked away so neither do I.

The thought comes unexpectedly and I don’t know what to make of it.

We match.

I look away. I can’t keep my eyes locked on Snow with those kinds of thoughts in my head.

Thoughts like the ones that would come to me when I was near mad with thirst and desperation while I was with the numpties.

Blue eyes.

Bronze curls.

The fact that Simon Snow is the most powerful magician alive.

That the image of him in my head was what kept me from succumbing to the darkness.

I don’t know what that means.

#carry on countdown #coc 2019 #Simon Snow #baz pitch #carry on #snowbaz #my writing #my fics #role swap

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