No pictures belong to me but the OC which was rendered in CUSTOM CAST, nothing was made by me other than editing everything together. Click for better quality.
Tbh I never saw it at first because Watts grates on my nerves, but presented with the idea of past younger situationship to toxic old man yaoi, I'm gagged.
I can't help but like the idea. 𖹭 𖹭𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯
Like how many times did they cross paths during college? During battles or missions? How tense every interaction is. Then fast forward to separate sides of a cosmic, monster filled war? Hell no. That's so interesting.
// General James Ironwood x goth!male OC, Springtime aesthetic. Ironwood fanart is done by lieu-rey on tumblr circa 2021, OG post under the cut.
Note: this is a lockscreen I edited, but none of the art or pics belongs to me! The Ironwood fanart is done by lieu-rey on tumblr circa 2021. Plz go support lieu's work, astounding. ✨️ The background is a collage not edited by me on Pinterest, so not my edit at all. I wasn't sure who the OG editor was though. This was just made for fun to be a lockscreen for my personal cell. I mean no copyright infringement or claim of works that aren't my own. The fanart screenshot is what I found after searching the web. Absolute favorite fanart of James everrrr 🥰😩🍓 Again, this is just for fun!! I take credit for nothing used!!
@ironwood-did-nothing-wrong Based off your post a few days ago (idk why my feed is behind 😭💔) but I cannot sleeeep and neither can James lol so I made a little edit of exhausted!James 💤😴😪 (only the chibi was drawn over on a base by me, nothing else belongs to me!! Just edited)
Take my version of a trading card!!! I made it using assets from Ibispaintx (drawing app) so the cyberpunk backgrounds aren't mine, I just cut James out and added the text and drew in the constellations.
Anyway, I imagined if they did make cards, it should look something like this, very personalized and resembling Atlas and kind of cybercore/blue aesthetic. Like wdym the official merch is just screenshots ashakdlfgh 😭😭💔
Totally get it, I'll take what I can get. I'm like two seconds away from finding someone to make an enamel pin or a charm. Omg could you imagine a tiny chibi James?! 🥹 Cute! 💙💙💙
Further RWBY original character information and character's full image and emblem are below the cut. 🚫 MDNI. Pro-shippers DNI/will be blocked. 🚫
♡ ᴇᴢᴇᴋɪᴇʟ ʙʟᴀᴢᴇ ♡
Open for roleplay. I currently ship him with James Ironwood, Clover Ebi, and Winter Schnee, though I am open to role-playing OCs. Minors DNI. The model was designed by me using CUSTOM CAST. The emblem for my OC was drawn and designed solely by me.
ʙᴀꜱɪᴄ ɪɴꜰᴏ:
25 years old
Racoon Faunus
He/they genderfluid
Yellowish orange hair, pinkish red eyes, long scar across face, freckles, and often wearing makeup. The outfit depicted is their daily wear/Hunstman wear, minus the weapons of course.
Though he is not based solely on a fairytale or character, he does have references to phoenixes throughout his design.
ʙᴀᴄᴋꜱᴛᴏʀʏ:
Ezekiel grew up in Menagerie, but longed to help his people and others, so attended training in Vacuo. He worked for a few years on the field before transferring to Atlas' healing department. He aids Hunstmen, Huntresses, and normal citizens in healing and specializes in physical rehabilitation/therapy. He has a long ringed brown racoon tail along with super senses including smell, sharp canines, sharp nails, typical seeing in the dark, and an array of growling/yipping noises canine/feline/bears/predators in general are capable of. As a Racoon Faunus, he possesses the ability to climb things quickly, run fast, and jump very high.
ꜱᴇᴍʙʟᴀɴᴄᴇ + ᴡᴇᴀᴘᴏɴ:
Ezekiel uses throwing knives as his main weapon with ribbons tied on the hilts, it's called Scurry. They combine to make a handheld pistol often lined with Fire Dust bullets. The ribbons on the hilts can connect into one to ensnare enemies.
His Semblance is called Rebirth and it causes a transfer of damage or pain from anyone to anyone else, including himself. This means that he can deflect damage to himself onto others, or take others' pain into his body. This was his main reason to become a healer later in life, after graduating early.
In addition to his weapons and Semblance, Ezekiel also uses Dust infused tattoos (one on his navel, the other the back of his hand, and one on his back and neck), to give his attacks or healing an extra boost when necessary. It also helps in fire manipulation and aim when using his pistol.
Qrow can't believe his eyes when you finally reveal to him, after almost half a year of dating, that you're magical. And not just magical, but a fairy! That really was the creature of legends, so much so that he thought it was just that: fiction!
He, of course, asks you to take him flying. By that, though, he means fly with him since it turned out he had a few magical secrets of his own. You were shocked to find out he had a spell cast on him as a young boy, by his late guardian. It was meant to protect him, but magic like that came at a very high cost..
Qrow constantly worries his bad luck will rub off on you, but since revealing you're a fairy, his anxieties seemed to be more at ease.
If the stories were true, fairies had luck that was neither good nor bad. It simply just was. This meant any impact of his spell was either nullified, or the bad luck was irritating at best. Like the time he got caught in a robin's nest on a flight out with you.
He finds your shrinking ability adorable and you are horrified when you see him working on something late at night only to realize just what it is.
It was a fairy house.
He asks you endlessly creative questions, the kind you didn't expect him to have. Like do you grant wishes? And do you have a magical home in the forest made of candy? And can you talk to butterflies? Are they scared of me?
His curiosity was endearing, if unexpected.
He totally let's you ride on his back when you're tiny.
In exchange, you let him fly with fairy dust. He was thrilled when you told him that one wasn't just a myth.
He's very grateful that you have healing abilities. It eases his worry about hurting you through his bad luck. He asks for a charm to counteract it, but unfortunately you're still learning and all you can provide is a vial of golden dust mixed with a crushed up clover plant. It wards off bad luck temporarily. You kiss his forehead when you tell him you'll work on it.
You say nothing about the tears in his eyes when you make such a promise.
⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨⋆❆⋆୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹
Winter thinks you're telling her a very bad joke at first. She only believes you when your wings fold out, glittering and delicate looking.
Then, she asks methodical questions. Ones digging into your reasoning for hiding this from her after dating a year (you both needed some time to warm up to each other before getting closer). You explain it was a matter of trust and protection.
She insists you don't need to protect her, unless whatever you're willing to fight is a real threat. Cleverly, she has you explaining the so-called threat. A large part of it is hiding the existence of fairies which she agrees to. She'd never want to see you taken from her, even if she is burning with curiosity.
Which also takes the forms of conducting several tasks for you to complete, studying the fairy dust you produce. It takes much prodding to get her to cover herself in it and fly. She asks a million times if it's really safe and you tell her you can always catch her if it runs out.
"Runs out!?" She asks the first time you go flying. You try to reassure her that would only happen if she rubbed it off herself, or let her doubts consume her. She demands you hold onto her in the sky, but that at least leads to a sweet, tender moment where you're suspended among the starry heavens and share a kiss.
She asks if you feel any different transferring your human sized mass to such a tiny body. She wonders how the transfer of activities like eating or working out effect you. You ask her why she doesn't think it's cute?
"It is," she says with a rare laugh, "I'm just wondering how much I need to watch you, when you're like this."
She tells you how much she needs to protect you, too.
She's quietly delighted by the magic you show her, the spells you cast, her favorite of which being snow falling from inside her bedroom. The snowflakes turn her lashes white for only a moment, but with her blue eyes closed, she looks almost asleep and peaceful.
⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨⋆☾⋆୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹
James is in disbelief and perhaps shock when you show him. Much like Winter, he needs proof along with your word, but never did he imagine you were joking. You'd been dating two years and he admittedly hates that you felt you couldn't share such an important, hidden part of your life with him, but he is understanding of the secrecy. If it meant you were both protected, he couldn't exactly argue.
A lot like Winter, James asks you the semantics of your abilities. He very badly wishes to test your fairy dust in a lab, but refrains out of respect. The last thing you needed were some crazed humans stealing you away from him. He did request taking personal notes and given his emphasis on security in his home and generally all areas of life, you agree.
The first time you catch a sketch of yourself, wings out, in his home office on his desk, you're touched. The detailing he captured looked so beautiful. Art was something James rarely dabbled in anymore after losing his right hand in the past, before he met you, but he learned to draw with his prosthetic and somewhat with his left hand.
It left his artwork more abstract than before, but the presses of pastels to paper looked prettier than a rainbow to you.
James asked you to demonstrate your abilities with him. Everything from making flowers bloom to talking with animals (he made a mental note to buy different chew toys for his dog next time he shopped), and his personal favorite, your shrinking ability.
He loved, and definitely encouraged, whenever you decided to ride on his shoulder, rest on his hand, or most adorably- in his opinion- in his shirt pocket.
He tells you one day it feels like he can protect better you this way, when you literally fit as the smaller version of yourself in the palm of his hand. In the metal one, with the soft magical glow of your wings, James never liked the silver of his hand better.
The first time you take him flying, he is positively vibrating the whole day leading up to it. You've never seen your giant boyfriend quite so enthused about something, well, other than normally spending time with you!
You take him high in the clouds, on a night where the full moon shines bright, and watch as his arms grip yours, smile broader than you'd seen it in weeks of tiring work and late nights, and he takes off with you. He's definitely a natural and he feels a pang in his chest when you tell him you can't believe he was born without wings.
The day James asks if your healing abilities could fix his hand, you hold him and kiss the top of his head. Old wounds like that, especially grievous ones, would never quite heal, even given a fairy's old magic.
He reassures you it's quite alright and you take him out to a beautiful meadow to lift his spirits, watching fireflies come out as the sun set, along with other magical creatures. Light dragons disguised as fireflies, butterflies that sparkled green and blue and pink, and even a flash of a white mane and a spiraling horn in-between the trees.
You gave him a vial of dust and crushed up lavender for the nightmares he sometimes had. He never divulged in details, but you knew it was of the time he lost his arm. Whether it was the event itself, or the hospital after, you didn't know. But you knew for a fact the vial would help.
Clover's wolf form being huge, much bigger than the usual werewolf.
His werewolf side coming out when he's protective of you, but in a quiet way. He doesn't take long to share with you that he's a werewolf with you after realizing you were no real threat to James, thrilled to have the weight off his chest and eager to show you his wolf form.
He totally let's you ride on his back through the forest underneath Atlas.
You recognize his eyes when he's transformed.
He can read your thoughts and speak in your mind, if you're receptive enough.
He smells vampires.
They smell like roses and vanilla.
That is all, except...
James Ironwood is unnaturally cold, not just the metal parts of him, and his skin is unblemished, untouched by anything but the pretty curves of wrinkles and sharp cut of his cheekbones. He never seemed to age past forty-five, journalists and colleagues often said. Maybe it was the skin care routine.
He has super strength and constantly uses it to pick you up, carry you around, and carry you in his arms when running with you.
James loves to spook you with his super speed and will appear all around you when you're together. It's also useful for when you're alone together.
He says Clover smells like rain and moss after he's been running outside. If not, he smells like rain mixed with rosemary and berries. Like some kind of cocktail.
James' eyes flash a glowing red when he smells Clover all over you after a night out with him. He washes you in the shower himself. Your reward is getting down on your knees after.
James smells like cedar, the fierce bite of frost in midwinter air, sometimes a little like whiskey after hours at work, and hints of his sweet aftershave.
He's so clean, in every area of his life, that when it comes to you, he allows himself to be unrefined. Messy. Dirty. Really, you should've thought about it when you told him you'd give him your blood.
James loves leaving bite marks all over you, even more so when you have to cover them up from prying eyes. He buys you a special cover for your neck, be it your choice of necklace, scarf, or otherwise. He just requests you let him put it on you.
He showers you in his attention, your spot often being on his lap as he completes whatever paperwork is required or in need of review.
The energy is always tense when Clover enters, but not you, nor General Ironwood, nor Clover could deny his loyalty.
But it was always electric. You could sense the air around Clover crackling, like a buzz of electricity, as it always did before he transformed. You could always see a flash of James' sharp set of bottom and top fangs, retractable enough to just leave his canines looking a little too sharp if you lingered.
They both showered you in devotion, whether it was a lavish dinner and romantic, fireside night with James, or a gorgeous view deep in the forest and dinner at a local tavern where everyone seemed to know who Clover was not by military Specialist rank, but more as a friend.
Clover was much more down-to-Earth than the General, but you could see where a lot of their world views aligned.
James often felt awkward despite being a gorgeous supernatural being, but honestly it made you feel more at ease and like he was human.
You having to invite James inside your home because it turns out, he operates by a few set of rules.
As does Clover, since the two of them couldn't touch pure silver. Any mix was alright, especially with Dust, but pure silver was off-limits.
He also feels more compelled by the full moon. Not to say he has to shift every moonrise, but his inner wolf is always itching a little more to be let out.
James, alternatively, has intense thirst for your blood. He once tells you that you're his mate, in that way, every vampire has a human counterpart whose blood tastes best.
He says he can't get enough of yours.
Clover will growl at you in his wolf form whenever he smells James' scent on you. When James bites you, the scent is strongest and that mixed with bandages clue him in to such activities.
His growl quickly becomes a whine and he'll spend the rest of the day pouting until you give him so much physical affection and letting him know that James has to drink human blood. Otherwise maybe he would drink Clover's.
On that note, both men are very touchy. Ironwood will have his arm around your waist half the time, especially with the little super speed trick, or will be touching the back of your neck, your hands (he loves restraining them), and especially touching your face. He loves how his gloves look against your skin.
Clover is sweet in the way he touches you. He's a big cuddler and a surprising fan of hugs. He'll find any excuse to cuddle you, never minding which spoon he is. Just as long as you're tangled together, he's happy.
He's also very warm. He maintains a high body temperature and once, when you saw James and Clover training, you could've sworn you spotted steam when their hands brushed.
They both physically looked strong, too. Between Clover's toned biceps and James' carved out abdomen, both metal and human, and the two men's height, it wasn't hard to feel swallowed up.
They both want you as a mate, badly.
Both men constantly ask for more time from you. Clover with promises of even more beautiful views. James a free hour in his office, door locked.
Sometimes it made your head swim with how much they insisted on having you.
But there was something about you that just drew them in. Whether it was your blood, your seemingly normal existence in Remnant, your unusual ability to sense supernatural beings, or more likely just a draw to you as a person, you'd never know.
Even if either man could watch you from afar, you could always sense them when they got close. James, and by extension, vampires, could get the upperhand with superspeed, but you at least had this sense-based gift.
James can go out in the sun, but any direct sunlight makes him have a wicked sunburn after like thirty minutes.
Garlic won't kill him, but he will break out in hives that only blood can treat. No medicine.
Everyone thinks James is bulletproof in combat situations because the bullets bounce off his metal half, but no one pays enough attention to realize it's bouncing off his whole body.
If you're drunk or otherwise intoxicated, and James drinks from you, he'll get as inebriated as you. Similarly for the times in which you feel calm, he can taste the emotion and it passes along to him, even just for a second.
Clover is sensitive to your emotions and rather emotional and weepy when it comes to the moon cycle. When it's just you in the forest, and he howls, your heart breaks. It's one of the most beautiful noises you've ever heard.
You ask both of them, separately, if they've ever met another werewolf or vampire.
Clover says he has his suspicions, even mentioning seeing some white fur on his usual trail, but face-to-face, the answer is no, he's never met one.
James, on the other hand, has met plenty of vampires, including the one that changed him. You never get a name, nor any for that matter, but he does tell you one day that it's a man. Later on, when you get closer, he tells you he trusted this man.
You ask Clover if it's possible to become a werewolf like it is to be a vampire. He's not entirely sure, but he's heard rumors about it, in people that believe or know about supernatural beings.
James knows and he's aware of exactly how to do it, but he refuses to listen to your questions about it. "You don't want to be like me," he tells you. "You don't want to be frozen for eternity."
But you know the alternative is aging and death. And no one could escape death.
Not even vampires or werewolves, as both men divulge in how you kill their species.
Clover explains it takes a lot of strength, but if you can break a werewolf's neck, you have to finish the job via stake to the heart. Ironically, humans got the legend backward.
James is a little more anxious to tell you, but he reasons it could protect you against other vampires, not that you should run into any under his supervision. But the answer is silver in the form of a dagger, bullet, or really anything you could stab a vampire with. Direct sunlight was a myth outside of heightened sensitivity. And the worst part was that after you stab the vampire, you had to remove their heart to kill them completely.
Apparently, vampires attempted to hide that information for a very long time, but human curiosity persisted above all else.
Clover and James both make you swear that should anything happen, they'll both protect you, and you have full permission to protect yourself against them or others.
What shocks you the most is both men's agreement to do the same to each other. Clover looked incredibly reluctant to be saying such things.
Of course, he adored James. For that reason, he was the first to know James was a vampire, unable to hide his werewolf transformations when the first, complete shifting he had was with Ironwood in his office.
They had to get the desk replaced the day after, Clover crushed it in a panic.
Clover's jealousy over you often confuses him when it's directed at the General, of all people. He would never want James to be unhappy or dissatisfied.
It results in a lot more tension between the three of you when you're caught alone.
All you can think of is both their hands on you at the same time.
Both men blush because they definitely read that in your mind.
You want to do research into a human bitten by both a werewolf and vampire, but unfortunately don't know the first place to look.
You do know the first person to ask and that's Clover. James probably wouldn't be so forthcoming on any intel.
Like he said for werewolves turning humans, Clover didn't know much about it, but he'd heard from a "trusted source" that there was one, once. He had red eyes, dark hair. No one knew his name and there was very little past word of mouth.
Still, it left you to wonder about the possibility. To exist in both their world's... what a dream. Even if neither James nor Clover would exactly think it so.
• General Ironwood unable to resist the scent of your blood. Every time you ask, he describes how it smells in excruciating detail it almost makes you thirsty.
• "I'm just saying, I'd love to spend as much time with you as possible," he tells you one day. It's hard not to roll your eyes at that. He had all the time.
• In his office, when you were both sure you were alone, he'd use his speed to randomly appear behind you, next to you, in front of you. You never got used to it.
• Nor did you get used to the moment he'd look at you hungrily from across any given room, but especially if there was no one else with you.
• Of course, it didn't take long for him to sink his fangs into you... it was on a stormy night, late in his office, the thunderstorm surrounding Atlas providing you both privacy, big windows covered in grey and raindrops smearing the crystal glass panels to nothing more than a blur.
• James' touch was tender, softer than you expected, when he tilted your head to the side. You saw only a flash of pure white before a sharp prick of pain in your neck. Two spots where his fangs sunk in and his tongue started lapping up the red that spilled out like ribbons decorating your skin and office attire.
• The way he tugged at your shirt, every time, eager to remove it from both the stain and to have more access to your body. If you weren't careful, the General would lick down the rest of the way.
• Covered in bite marks that James gets a new, longer button-up for you to cover them with.
• Him gently brushing the bite marks, cleaning them and bandaging them.
• Getting looks from the Ace-Ops (namely Clover) when your shirt collar slips and reveals a bandage. You have to come up with a lie quick on your feet.
• Always finding your way to James' office, the excuse of double checking paperwork on your lips. That wasn't the only thing.
• James really enjoys keeping an eye on you, so any time you're in the building or walking around Atlas late at night, you'll always feel his eyes on you somehow.
• The last time it happened, you were in your living room in your apartment downtown and left him a text: ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴍᴇ ᴀᴛ ʜᴏᴍᴇ, ɪꜱɴ'ᴛ ɪᴛ?
• He always said the same thing: ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ.
• His prosthetics actually making him more hungry for blood sometimes.
• His prosthetics having a red lighting setting.
• James' eyes flashing a glowing red when he smells your blood.
• Or his eyes flashing a glowing blue.
• What really catches you off-guard, is the mind-reading. James doesn't do it all the time, in fact he says it's a skill he has to hone and some minds are louder than others, but the one he most looks forward to reading is yours.
• A bit unhelpful when usually you're just thinking 'oh he looks so good with his shirt unbuttoned like that' and 'I wonder how good I taste to him.'
• James will often tease you about it for a little bit. He pouts when you purposefully project such thoughts when he has piles of paperwork to attend to.
• You get him back one night, when he visits you past midnight, and you wake a few hours after to find a tiny black and silver bat sleeping on your pillow.
• You didn't know he could do that. He tries to brush it off, claiming it was a power he didn't indulge in much. Judging by the amount of times you'd caught a blur of silver and black, and the sheer idea of flying, you didn't exactly believe him, but at least your payback was in the form of threatening to make tiny knitted sweaters.
• James having sweets and snacks prepared for you to eat and use to recover from him drinking from you. The way he insists you sit in his lap while he showers your face in kisses and touches your hair after feeding them to you.
• You giving him an emergency vial of your blood just in case, James, and putting it either in his desk locked away, or around his neck on missions tucked away under his clothes.
• The way he pinpoints your heart out of everyone else's in the building, around you, for miles. You're reminded every time he sneaks up on you in the blink of an eye just how much a predator he is, outside of simply being a skilled fighter.
• Him only giving vague, half-satisfying answers of how he was changed. Why. He barely remembers himself, but prefers to keep you far away from whatever hidden world the one who changed him came from. James just wanted to keep you safe.
• So safe, in fact, he's a little obsessed with the idea. Aside from tailing you home sometimes when he thinks you won't notice (even for a silent vampire, anyone can catch onto being watched and you've known enough of his habits by now), James also takes it upon himself to convince you to stay the night at his enormous home. Deep reds and carved wooden decor always greeted you there. Warm fireplaces littered the main living room area and several bedrooms, though James insisted you stay in his. To keep a better eye on you, of course. His bed was simply gigantic and soft. He explained a while ago that vampires could go a long time without sleeping, but even he would eventually need to rest at some point.
• Those times were among your favorites. The way he would melt all the stress away once he got settled either on your chest or next to you, hands always reaching for your waist, your stomach, your hands, anything to grab onto, to hold.
• James always let his hair fall in front his face, his jaw relax and unclench, his eyes softening from steel, cold blue to something like a river, water flowing with little resistance.
• And if you fed him before all this, he appeared even more relaxed and sedated. He always seemed more inclined to let his hands wander further, his kisses linger a little longer. If there was one thing he seemed to like to devour more than the crimson flowing in your veins, it was you.
• So loving bites paired with the feeding marks, and hickeys dotted your collarbones like stars of a galaxy.
• Nights like these always ended with you the exhausted one, James' energy hardly depleted, but you had to meet his begging eyes with promises of 'more later, James,' and 'I don't have as much energy as you. Let me sleep a little bit.'
• When you did fall asleep, James would hold you just a little closer to him, tuning out all the other miniscule noises around to focus on your heartbeat, the blood he fed from flowing through your veins like a river, like a song. It was easily his favorite noise, the very fact your pulse meant you were living, meant you were his.
• You promised to keep his secret and he promised to never compel you. Though, you did sometimes wonder what it felt like. He wondered if he could. For him, compulsion varied depending on the person and their own mind. Considering you were never one to shy away from arguing him, especially for his own good, James was inclined to believe it would be tricky to actually compel you. Though he never shared this valuable bit of information, preferring to keep you on your toes.
• On that note, James adored any time he could make you jump, or shiver, or gasp. He loved having that kind of power over you.
• And you loved the power of your blood over him. You believed him when, after the first time feeding from you, James told you your blood tasted the best out of all he'd ever drank. He didn't say who else he drank from. You didn't exactly ask. All you knew was that you quickly became the only person.
• The one, big unspoken question always lingered unsaid in the air between you: whether or not he'd turn you. Courageous though you may be to challenge such a stubborn man with supernatural abilities, this was the question you felt too hesistant to ask. One day, though, you would. Eternity was forever, but only if you had it together.
Click for better quality. Pics don't belong to me! I just edit them/put them together. Feel free to reblog and check out my ao3 for Ironwood fics! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!
TW: Reader is gender-neutral, immortal, but physically mid-20s. Carlisle is close to 40/late 30s. Blood mention, mention of medical practice not in-depth. My requests are open. Enjoy! 💕
•┈••✦🕸️๋࣭ ⭑✦••┈•
• Carlisle finds you hunting one day, deep in the forest, deeper than the rest of his coven usually went, aside from his wife, of course, who often joined him in hunting. She had a certain stubbornness that couldn't be shaken, especially when she went off in ancient Greek, glittering gold jewelry framing tanned skin and brown hair, golden eyes that matched his own. The two of them knew this part of the woods rather well. He was surprised, then, to find something so green and purple and pink, practically iridescent, alone in the forest. Even more so to realize it's a person... or something close to it.
• The first time he sees you flutter your wings out, he's amazed. He knew of werewolf tribes and packs all over the country, even other countries, of course, even heard talk of people turning into other animals, cats... birds... even fish was a rumor once. Even though he wasn't too sure about that one, Carlisle had to admit that he'd never met anyone like you.
• On that note, you were smaller than the average human. Like you were human-shaped, your proportions evenly matched, you were just... smaller. Tinier than most humans, shorter in stature. Almost like you were scaled down.
• And your eyes... they were unlike any human's... they were bigger, your lashes longer. You ears shorter and sharper, swirls of fairy dust covering your skin from your neck to your ankles. From one creature meant to entice humans to another, it sure drew him in...
• When Carlisle takes you home, it's easily and in his arms. You took a nasty fall, and striking as they were, your delicate looking wings needed tending to. Ever a healer, Carlisle assessed the damage when returning to his home. Thankfully, his coven were all out for the day save for his wife, who slept in their master bedroom. Well, as close to sleeping as vampires could get, anway (it was more a rest of the mind than the body).
• He propped you up on a table in a sort of medical/living room he had. He didn't spend much time idly in it, preferring to be at the hospital helping humans, or here helping his family. Either way, he couldn't help but notice your pleasant warmth compared to his ice cold touch.
• Carlisle let's you know everything he's going to do before doing it. He's patient, he's gentle, and above all else he brought a quiet calm to the eventful evening. He tries asking questions, like where you're from, what kind of creature are you, does this hurt? All to receive no answer as you were left tired, ragged, and confused as to what hit you in the sky.
• He unfurls your wings, having gotten twisted up in the fall, to see a slight tear in one. His mind races a million miles a second to figure out how to fix it. He recalled surgeries on butterflies before, but this was a bit bigger than that.
• Thankfully, it seemed a night of good rest helped as Carlisle sent you off to bed in a spare room. He saddled up with a laptop in the living room across from it even if he knew he could hear if anything went wrong. The steady rise and fall of your chest calmed his mind as he tried researching anything that could help you.
• You find yourself drawn more and more to Carlisle the longer you stay and the longer he doesn't seem like he'll kick you out. He smelled inhuman. Like snow left out in the sun or wisteria in the rain. There was always a cold wash to it, like even his soul was frozen.
• You notice his gentleness extended to his family, as with your enhanced abilities you heard them interact. There was a protective air he brought to every word spoken. You tried stretching your wings, it hurt. Thankfully, Carlisle's return brought a pale purple salve he wanted to apply to the tear. He told you it had all natural elements.
• And that he had to apply it with his hands. So delicately. So, he washed and dried them before dipping a perfectly manicured hand in the ceramic bowl. With his other hand, he very carefully held your torn wing. He could feel how strong they were outside of this circumstance, how strong they must be to pull you up to fly, but his heart squeezed having known something must have hit you and it must have hurt before you fell. Empathy was some kind of cruel joke that never left him, not even in his undead state, but he wanted to use it as a tool. A sort of last hold to humanity since his soul was damned to hell, or whatever waited a monster like him.
• When you felt his strong, but careful hands apply the salve, you felt relief quickly followed by embarrassment. You were in one of his big shirts, unbuttoned in the front save some buttons providing you coverage in your crotch, but enough to see your chest peeking out. The swirls of glittering green, purple, and pink down your neck and arms. He'd been gracious enough to measure and cut out holes for your wings since he knew you needed something to wear while he worked and the clothes he found you in were shredded and covered in dirt.
• "I'm... a fairy. Far from here," you told him after the salve session and pain relief to your wing. He bandaged it as best he could with the thinnest wrapping he had instructing you not to move too much. He shot you a look of surprise before he was gone in a blink, and back the next with a glass of water. You hadn't spoken for days, your throat was dry and scratchy.
• You went on to talk to him a little more throughout the night as Carlisle tended to your bandages, and you both agreed a bath tomorrow would be best. You explained how fairies liked to keep themselves secret, even among other supernatural creatures, especially given how tied you were to nature herself.
• Carlisle took in every bit of information you gave with fascination. You spent the whole day explaining about your home beyond the Veil, the way you could tap into nature, how nature was just magic that granted him the gift of vampirism.
• "Gift?" He asks you as he runs the bath water in the tub. It was a relief to hear you speak, even more of a relief to know you were technically older than him by a hundred years, even if physically he was almost 40 and you were only mid-20s. He was relieved, too, when you began to talk so much.
• "It is a gift," you tell him as he helps you in the bath. He averted his eyes to your lower half, but you did require help with keeping your wing out of the water. "Everything we've given you humans is. The changing of the seasons, vampirism, immortality..."
• You pause. "Well, I guess the only thing we didn't give was the power to become a different animal. That's either random or through family, like the werewolves who own this land."
• "You know them?" Carlisle sounds shocked. "Have you met them?" You shook your head. "Only the old pack. The one the Chief, Billy, looks after now."
• The conversation fell off when you felt Carlisle's hands, slightly warmed from running them under warm water from the tap, began to lather your hair and body. He asked beforehand, of course, but his touches were still a shock. Welcome, but surprising. You could feel the unmistakable strength underneath his focused light touch.
• As the days went on, you recovered more and more. Carlisle even caught you trying to flutter in the garden outside the back of his glass home. It didn't work as your wings weren't fully healed yet, but he got to enjoy the rare spectacle of a fairy's blessing; you brushed your fingertips over some of the plants that were struggling and Carlisle watched as they sprung back to life, purples and reds and oranges covering the yard... perhaps too much. Okay, you overdid it, but he didn't mind. Just meant more beauty for monsters like them to see.
• And something like beauty could be the only thing to describe you. Your teasing nature, how he could never seem to lie around you (not that he'd want to, but it was in his nature to lie and charm and deceive), your abilities. How in-tune you seemed to be with the entire forest around you. It made him feel guilty for the deer his family and him ate, but he always made sure to leave the body somewhere other animals would find it. Waste not, want not, he supposed.
• When your wings finally healed, Carlisle felt an uncharacteristic pang of sadness. It wasn't like a doctor to not want a patient healed, but he feared this meant you leaving.
• Thankfully, you stayed. You claimed it was for some fairy contract reason, when really the only contract happening was when Carlisle gave you his name ensuring he could never lie to you.
• He seemed suspicious of this reasoning, but left it alone as the two of you worked in the following days on your flight, deep in the forest. There was a river nearby, full of fish, the scent of a mountain lion left hours ago, and a local deer herd that ran through not long after the mountain lion. The whole setting buzzed with life that Carlisle could smell, see, and hear. He tried to not focus too much on those details, of course, as he undid the bandage on your wing. The salve worked wonders and the tear was gone.
• When you finally took flight, wings turning from shining greens to purples to pinks, never quite settling, a sweet smile broke out on Carlisle's face. You couldn't help but challenge him to a race, as you were playful, too, and broke off in a speed vampires ought to be jealous of.
• He was hot on your trail, a blur among deep greens and browns, leaves and earth below. You tried maneuvering where the trees could block his path, but his super-speed and sharp mind were too much. You forgot what quick hunters vampires made.
• In your haste to win, however, you... flew right into a branch. Blessedly, it missed your wings, but not your middle as you caught it hard and fell. He was right there to catch you, smile fallen from his face to be replaced with a look of concern. "Y/N?"
• This led to you blinking blurriness from your eyes to meet golden irises. "I'm-I'm okay," you tried to reassure him. It was a bit of a hard fall, and even if fairies could heal, it was better you were in nature to do so. You notice his gaze isn't actually on you anymore, but instead the gash on your stomach, tearing the pretty pink fabric of his shirt. The one thing about fairy blood was that it sparkled, it flowed, and it was nearly irresistible to vampires.
• You gulp. Even someone as restrained as Carlisle must be tempted. His eyes fluttered shut, he appeared as a Greek statue, asleep, beautiful, carved of the finest marble. What would he do when they opened again?
• Carlisle tried to steady himself. The absolutely delicious smell of your blood hitting his nose. Not that he didn't normally notice the way people's blood smelt, especially in his line of work, but it became background noise as he could tune it out, for the sake of the humans who needed to help. As penance for his damnation, he would shut out his cravings... But this? This was unlike any blood he'd ever smelled and his only want then, between seeing the teasing flashes of your thighs under his shirts, the warm blush the bath water gave you, wrapping you up in a big towel after, every smile you shot at him... a part of him was already crumbling, so his only desire was to rip the shirt off you and lick up the blood that flowed from your stomach, all the way up to your neck where he could sink his fangs and drain every last drop---
• Carlisle took a deep breath in. Unnecessary, but a human habit that often helped him calm down. It did the exact opposite, however, when a stronger wave of your blood, smelling like blueberries and spring water, lilac and tea, rain and sweets, it hit his nose again and he felt dizzy from it. Drunk, even. Nothing ever smelled quite so good him, apart from Esmé's scent.
• "Carlisle?" You asked him and it practically breaks his resolve. To have you so close against him... it makes him ache to breathe in deeper, to devour you, to make good on the curse he was given. But no, he couldn't... His jaw clenched when he held you tighter, like a coveted treasure, like something he could so easily break. He took off back to the house, where he could properly look after your wounds instead of fantasizing about making them worse.
• Carlisle left you in the living room, using his speed to move faster than a heartbeat through the house to gather supplies. For your part, you tried to keep the living room free of blood. One vampire certainly wasn't enough to kill a fairy, but a whole coven? Yeah, better keep the blood out of the way.
• Carlisle seemed to have to exact same idea as he ran a bath, using the water to clean the cut. It bled worse than it actually looked, the gash already starting to stitch itself up. His fingertips ran down your neck, your collarbones, all under the pretense of checking you... Gods, what kind of deplorable man was he? That he couldn't even be honest about why he wanted to touch you.
• You caught on quickly enough and moved in the bath, shifting to press into his touch. His golden eyes were dark with want, and you thought you saw the sharp flash of fangs behind his soft lips. "You wouldn't kill me," you spoke softly, like a prayer, "If you wanted to bite me. It wouldn't kill me. And I know you can stop... And I know it's what you really want right now."
• He looked entirely caught off-guard. "I-I-- I would never want to hurt you, Y/N." You nodded, "I know. But one bite won't kill me, or turn me. I trust you."
• Really, you wanted him. You wanted him to want you, too, to linger on the touches you gave him, the smiles and laughter, the closeness the past few weeks you spent together... And he was really beautiful. Even before an unfinished death, he must have been gorgeous, with all of man's imperfections.
• Carlisle continued to bathe and clean you up until the gash was gone and you were wrapped comfortably in a towel. You dried off in front of him, but ever the gentleman, he turned away, not wanting to leave you after a hard fall. Though it appeared your body healed quicker than your wings.
• Still, the sweet smell of your blood was one he couldn't get out of his mind. He wanted it, and he wanted you. That little offer of biting you, sinking his fangs in and draining a little bit of the nectar from your body... well, that did nothing to help fighting his desires. His nature. His curse.
• The first time he bites you, it's careful, it's only after cupping your face in his bigger hands, marble encased soft skin meeting softer, warmer flesh. It's tender and deep, and you feel the blood flow out like a downpour of rain.
• You see red mingle with gold dust so bright it looked white, like the sun was captured in your skin. And pure crystal glittered on his. The setting sun laid her graceful hands on your bodies. If there wasn't a primal sort of air to it, like a predator finally sinking its teeth into prey after a long hunt, you thought the scene could've almost looked romantic.
• It's so very hard for him to stop. Even with his insane amount of restraint and control. You just taste too addicting. It was like a drink he didn't know he needed, a thirst that tore at his throat somehow more than the regular want for blood that took over every vampire. The mark of their curse.
• He did stop, though, after another gulp or two. After you became just a little dizzy, a little light-headed, and he was there to catch you, to take you back home in a blur and immediately make you something to eat.
• You felt burning gold on you the whole time you ate, Carlisle somehow being an amazing cook even after too many years of not eating human food, and you made sure to answer every question he had, giving you a once over after you ate. It felt less like being handled by the older man you were attracted to, though, and more like a local doctor visit. Carlisle looked a little sheepish at that and the two of you agreed on a shower this time, to get all the dirt and remaining blood off you. You wondered if he'd join you.
• Alas, he did not, but he did slide in bed next to, after asking your permission softly, and pulled you to his chest under the pretense of listening to your heart, your breathing, all the different little systems that kept your body, fairy or not, running. He told you as he rubbed little circles in your shoulder that he loved being a doctor because of that. Because of how easily healing came to him, how his abilities could be used to help, and how he ought to help, if he was made to be something so monstrous. It sounded more like he was paying his dues, but you supposed a good act for any reason... was still good?
• You could ponder on that later as Carlisle sneakily mimicked slow, deep breaths that subconsciously made your own breathing line up and even though you were immortal, you felt exhausted from flying after being bound to the earth so long. It only made sense, then, that you felt yourself dozing off... Carlisle's soft words, eventually turned into a softened humming, and his skin almost like a normal man's having warmed up in the shower, were the last things you registered before you were pulled under.
