Probably the only thing I’ll get to post for #10daysofspm, but I wanted to share my lil Tippi and Bleck species swap au :)
Yapping about them
Timpani is very shy, due to being isolated by her mother. Thus she doesn’t speak very much. Blumiere is the son of a schoolteacher, so he’s more academically inclined. When he finds Timpani injured, he tries to befriend her, but she can’t muster the courage to talk and runs away. She later returns to his house and brings him flowers as an apology gift. The two become friends. Initially Blumiere is only interested in her because he wants to research her species, but he slowly realizes that he’s in love with her. Being around Blumiere helps Timpani come out of her shell a little, and she becomes more talkative when it’s just the two of them. Anyways, the story happens, and Blumiere is cursed by Timpani’s mother. He’s later transformed into Bleck the Pixl by Merlon. Timpani becomes Countess Tippi and the keeper of the Dark Prognosticus. To honor her lost love, she dresses in Victorian mourning clothes and wears a long veil to hide her face. She also returns to her old habits of seldom speaking.
I'm so freaking delighted to present the completed Timpani mega collab, with a grand total of 57 submissions across different platforms. I am over the moon with how excited people were about this project and I'm definitely gonna have to do another one for the big 20th next year!!!! Everyone's creativity was such a joy to see exhibited together. One of my favorite things over the years has been enjoying seeing everyone's unique interpretations of Lady Timpani, and I'm so glad we were able to bring together a handful of them to celebrate our love for this game that means so much to all of us!!!
Thank you again so much to everyone who participated!!!! You're all so talented and this was so much fun to put together!! <3
I KNOWWWW it's a little bit last minute but I thought this would be a fun idea! SPM Timpani enjoyers rise up!!! Let me see your designs!! WAHHH!!!! All skill levels welcome!!
Wanted to do a full little drabble for napping with Philippe’s jacket
An afternoon nap was in order. You wandered into the living room, where Philippe sat on the couch, looking over a pile of papers Corbeau had sent for him. Your favorite fluffy blanket was folded on the cushions, but you were searching for a certain something else to keep you warm this time.
Philippe had left his jacket hanging over the back of the couch. Perfect. You snatched it up.
He glanced at you. “What do you need that for, huh?”
You shrugged. “It’s comfy.”
Indeed, his suit jacket was far better than a regular blanket. You curled up on the couch next to him. With your knees tucked to your chest, you were just small enough to fit yourself underneath it. The thick fabric provided you with a comfortable layer of warmth, weighing down on you where it draped over your body. You pulled it under your chin, the familiar scent of his cologne drifting into your senses.
There was just one thing missing now… the flat couch cushion wasn’t exactly the best position for your head to rest. Luckily, Philippe was right beside you. You shuffled a little closer to him, and propped your cheek on his thigh.
He paused reading the page he was in the middle of. “I’m trying to get some work done here, doll.”
“Need a pillow, please…” you mumbled.
He chuckled softly. “So demanding…”
You knew he could never say no to you. He shifted some of his papers out of the way so you could rest your head fully on his lap.
“Thanks, Philippe.”
“Mmhm.”
You closed your eyes with a content sigh. His free hand drifted down to rest on your head, rubbing gently against your scalp. He continued to idly card his fingers through your hair, the occasional shuffle of papers following it.
You looked cute tucked under his jacket, he thought. He smiled to himself, keeping a careful eye on you while you dozed off.
Urbain’s jacket is very special to him… but you’re not going to be cold on his watch! Carefully drapes it over your shoulders. He’ll keep asking you if you’re warm enough, if you want him to buy you a hot drink or something. You assure him that the jacket is just fine.
Naveen will let you wear his, but why don’t you just let him make you your own instead…? Will take some pictures of you in it to promote his business. He delivers you a matching jacket a few days later. If you wear it the next time you’re out with him, he can’t help but smile.
Philippe’s jacket is the perfect blanket for naps. It’s big and heavy, and keeps you nice and warm. If you ask him nicely, he’ll let you use his lap as a pillow while he works. Plays with your hair until you fall asleep.
Corbeau will lecture you about not bringing your own jacket while he wraps you up in his. The inside lining is soft and silky. He told you it would be cold, he says, but he can’t be too mad when you look so cute wearing his. It lets everyone know you’re with him.
Ivor doesn’t wear a jacket… but if you’re someone who gets cold easily, never fear! He keeps a blanket in his bag just for you. It has a print of your favorite Pokémon on it.
Grisham will happily let you take his jacket. Buttons it up for you with a smile. It’s already warm from his own body heat, and the smell of coffee is practically ingrained into the fabric. You’ll find some Pokémon treats in the pocket, and Charizard will beg you for some.
Az’s jacket is custom-made for him, so there’s no dream of it ever fitting you… He’ll still lend it to you if you want, though. It’s rough and well loved, and probably the most comfortable thing you’ve ever worn. The sleeves practically hang down to your knees. He’ll help you roll them up so you can still use your hands.
After the events of the night before, Corbeau grapples with his feelings for you. Will you give him your heart? Does he even deserve it?
This fic contains: POV 2nd person, female reader, Vampire!Corbeau. Little bit angsty, happy ending tho. More biting, more blood drinking, vampire stuff (but it’s freakier this time)
Word count: ~5k
His actions had been… irresponsible, at best. As careful and practiced as he was, he had still lost his hold and slipped into ferality.
Corbeau lay awake long after you had fallen asleep. Now that his thoughts were no longer dazed with his desires for you, he had become quite frustrated with himself.
Even now he was only a hair’s breadth away from you in your bed. Were you not worried?
He could hear your heartbeat thrumming in his ears, slow and calm as you slept.
Evidently not.
He tilted his head to look at you. You were an utter mess, your hair tousled and your clothes stained with your own blood. The bandages he had placed around your neck were starting to become dappled with red.
All products of his own doing.
I trust you, your words echoed in his mind.
But why? He couldn’t understand. You had every right to run away, to tell him to leave, but you didn’t. Even Philippe had not been such a willing participant…
He turned his gaze back to the ceiling.
He longed to feel at peace, to close his eyes and escape to dreams beside you; but his mind was too restless. Was it simple pity that drove your actions, the same good nature that had led you to help so many others? Fear?
Love…?
He sat up, the mattress creaking slightly from the shift in weight.
A brief chill flitted into the room as he slid open the door to the balcony and stepped outside. Snow crunched under his feet, damp beneath his arms as he leaned against the railing. The city was quiet, moonlight gently illuminating the snow-covered buildings. A few flakes still drifted through the air, catching on his clothes.
He ran his tongue over his teeth, tasting the last remnants of your blood. It had just been some boyish crush before, what he felt for you. An unexpected instant attraction. Now, in the wake of having tasted you at last, his feelings had dug deeper into his heart. He could have you for the rest of his life, he thought, and even then he might not be satisfied.
But how did you feel? He wished he knew what you thought of him, now that you had learned what he was. When morning came, would you be happy to see him still next to you? Or would you come to your senses and push him away?
He looked to the sky, at the few stars peeking through the clouds, and sighed. These troubles continued to plague him as he stood, silent and motionless, his train of thought running in circles.
Sure, he had been somewhat close to you before—your ally in battles and perhaps even your friend—but he had never thought it would go any further than that.
Could he really take the risk of being your lover, when his very existence was a danger to you? No matter how badly he wanted it?
What was he to do…?
“Beau?” your sleepy voice drifted through the air.
He turned to see you standing in the doorway to the balcony, a blanket from the bed draped over your shoulders. Adorable. The hint of a smile crept on his face.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“Come back inside,” you mumbled. “It’s cold out…”
He was perfectly fine, but he indulged your request and followed you back into the room. He let you lead him back to bed and pull him under the blankets with you. You cuddled close to him, your head resting on his chest, your arm draped over him.
He was still for a while, letting the warmth of your body soak into him, hoping that it would lull him to sleep.
Tomorrow wasn’t certain, but at least he would have this moment to cherish.
“If you’re bothering me this early in the morning, it better be important.”
You opened your eyes to see Corbeau on the phone with someone. Sunlight streamed in through the windows. It seemed the storm was finally over.
“I see… alright,” he said. “Fine. I’m heading over.”
He hung up the phone, his brows furrowed in annoyance.
“Good morning,” you said.
“Morning,” he replied. “I have to go. They’re having some trouble at the office.”
He untangled himself from your grasp and rose out of bed. You sat up, wrapping your arms back around him and pulling him towards you once more.
He sighed. “I really do have to go.”
You studied him for a moment. Dark circles were etched under his eyes. Had he not slept well? You had a fuzzy memory of him going out on the balcony in the middle of the night…
“Corbeau… Is something wrong?” you asked.
He started to say something, then hesitated, and shook his head.
“It’s… nothing.”
He left before you could pry more answers out of him.
You frowned. That was hardly the slow morning with him you had been hoping for. What had caused his sudden shift in demeanor?
You rubbed the side of your neck, and winced. Pain bloomed under your fingers on the tender spot. You would have to deal with that. You dragged yourself out of bed and to the bathroom.
Gingerly, you peeled away the old bandages.
“Ugh…” you muttered to yourself after seeing the extent of damage in the mirror. Your skin had barely knit itself back together overnight, the deep impressions of Corbeau’s teeth still visible.
You wiped it clean and applied a new bandage. A turtleneck sweater would suffice to keep it hidden. You could only imagine the look on Urbain’s face if you came downstairs with a fresh injury showing…
You finished getting ready for the day, then headed downstairs to the lobby, where everyone was already gathered.
“Oh, good, you’re here!” Urbain greeted you. “Listen, I know this is sudden, but it’s going to be a busy day, and we could really use your help…”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“The storm’s finally over!” Lida said, “But there’s still a bunch of snow on the street…”
“And Urbain here had the bright idea to sign all of us up for street cleanup duty,” Naveen finished.
You raised a brow at Urbain, who averted his gaze and chuckled nervously. “Hey, it wasn’t entirely my idea…! Vinnie asked if we could help out…”
“Not just us… The Rust Syndicate too, it looks like,” Naveen said, reading something on his phone.
Urbain frowned. “Oh, great. The Rust Syndicate…”
“Well, it makes sense. They do have a lot of steel-type trainers.”
Lida gave you a mischievous grin. “So Corbeau will be there, huh?”
You felt your cheeks flush. “So what if he is?”
“Yeah! So what?” Urbain interjected. “We will be staying far away from him!”
“Oh my Arceus, Urbain,” she muttered. “You have got to get a hold of yourself.”
“Let’s just get going…”
You followed the group outside. The courtyard was still encased in a thin layer of snow, but the sky was bright. The streets would definitely be flooded with people eager to get some sun. Your footprints disrupted the pristine white landscape, leaving your path trodden behind you.
Of course, you thought, the Rust Syndicate would be helping. You would have to see if you could have a proper talk with Corbeau. He had left far too quickly for your liking.
As much as you tried to ignore it, the soreness in your neck served as a reminder of everything that had happened the night before.
It was frightening in the moment, seeing the man that was usually so calm and collected suddenly shift into something else. To see how easily he was able to render you helpless as his grip squeezed around your throat.
But you knew him, you thought. Even when he had fallen victim to his bloodlust, even when you were looking straight into the eyes of a predator, deep down your subconscious knew that he wasn’t really going to hurt you. It was like you had told him, you trusted him. You trusted that he wouldn’t tear you apart completely.
Lida’s face slid into your view.
“So…” she said, “What’s up with you and Corbeau, huh?”
You looked away. “I don’t know what you mean…”
“Oh, come on. Don’t play coy. I know you have a thing for him.”
“Wait, you like Corbeau?” Naveen asked. “Since when?”
Lida grinned. “You should have seen the two of them the other day. She slipped and fell right into his arms, and then she was all embarrassed. It was kinda cute, you know?”
“That was just an accident!” You groaned. “I didn’t know he was there…!”
“Um, guys,” Urbain interrupted. “We’re here.”
The group had stopped by the Stone Emporium. A few people were already scattered in the area, shoveling snow away from the storefronts or battling with wild Pokémon. Some Rust Syndicate grunts were there too, and along with them…
“It’s your lucky day, huh?” Lida whispered to you. “He’s right over there.”
Corbeau stood out a little, with his umbrella and dark sunglasses. You could guess he wasn’t too happy about being stuck in the sunlight.
She nudged you in his direction. “Go talk to him!”
You made your way over to where he was standing while Urbain started to organize everyone else. Even though his eyes were hidden, you could practically feel his gaze boring into you.
You took your place next to him.
“Um, hi Corbeau…”
He frowned. “What are you doing here? I thought I told you to take it easy.”
“Yeah, well… it kinda got sprung on me.”
A few of his grunts paused what they were doing to stare at the two of you.
“What are you looking at, huh?” He barked at them. “Quit slacking off!”
They quickly got back to work.
“You’re awfully prickly today,” you said.
He didn’t respond. His teeth were clenched, visible tension in his jaw.
You stayed quiet for a little while, watching your friends as they cheered on Urbain’s Emboar, who was melting huge piles of snow. Corbeau stood as still as a corpse, ignoring your attempts to make eye contact with him.
Finally, you reached out and brushed your hand against his.
“Listen, Beau, about last night…”
“I don’t think this is going to work,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“You and I.”
Your own face contorted into surprise, but he remained expressionless.
“Just forget about me, okay?” He continued.
“How can you say that…?” You pleaded. “Corbeau…”
“It’s better that way.”
Better. Better he discarded you like trash, after you cured his hunger that was clearly driving him mad with need for you? For your blood?
You wanted to shout at him, or burst into tears, or something, but instead you swallowed it all down.
Maybe that’s all he had been after from the beginning.
“You know what?” Your curt reply. “I get it. You got what you wanted from me.”
If he had a response, you didn’t hear it. You turned away and went back to Team MZ, who no doubt had seen the whole thing.
Urbain gave you a pitied look. “I told you that guy was trouble,” he murmured.
“It was nothing,” you whispered.
You looked back, just once, but Corbeau had already disappeared.
It was late. Much too late for him to still be at the office, but he couldn’t muster the strength to get up and leave. He sat slumped at his desk, his head in his hands.
He had really ruined everything with you. But it was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? He was only trying to protect you. From himself.
If only he had never gotten lost in that cave as a child, then he would have never become this monster…
The elevator dinged, echoing through the empty room. He glanced at it briefly to see the doors opening, Philippe on the other side of them.
He looked surprised to see Corbeau sitting there.
“Boss? You’re still here?”
“I could say the same to you…”
He was sure Philippe could see his reddened eyes, hear the slight scratch in his voice. He felt utterly defeated, his energy spent from his earlier fit of silent tears.
Philippe dropped a stack of papers on his desk. Marginally unimportant—that was something for future him to worry about. He pushed them aside without so much as giving them a glance.
“You can go,” he said.
Philippe remained. He crossed his arms.
“What’s up with you, huh?”
They stared at each other for a few moments, until Corbeau finally heaved a sigh and gave in.
“I’m an idiot,” he mumbled. “I messed everything up.”
“What happened?”
“I told her we shouldn’t be together. I thought… I thought I made the right choice, but now I’m not so sure…” He let his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m sure she hates me for everything I did.”
It wasn’t hard to guess who he was talking about. Philippe cleared his throat. “I, uh… I ran into her earlier.”
Corbeau practically jumped out of his chair. There was a sharp, grating noise as his nails dug into the wood of his desk and scraped. Philippe winced slightly.
“You did? What did she say?” He exclaimed.
“She’s… Well, she’s upset at you, but I wouldn’t say that she hates you, Boss. I think things could be amended, if you try.”
He considered this, but he found himself quickly falling back into the same loop of thought he had been struggling with all this time. He shook his head, and sunk back into his chair, defeated.
“That’s exactly the problem…” he said. “I’m not sure if I should amend things.”
“Why not?” Philippe asked. “You like her, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. But it’s not that simple. On one hand, yes, I want to be with her. But on the other… is what I want more important than her well-being? I would only be putting her at risk again… it’s not fair to her.”
“I see…”
“Maybe I’m just not meant for love,” his voice came out as the smallest whisper. “Not with what I am… I don’t know what to do, Philippe. Should I listen to my heart, or to my brain…?”
Philippe looked down at Corbeau, his smaller frame engulfed by the office chair that used to belong to him. The fresh claw marks on the surface of the desk. He wouldn’t deny that the Boss possessed some kind of strength that even he, with all of his bulk and years of training, did not. Some kind of air about him that made other people turn away, as if their primal instincts recognized just what he was, what he was capable of.
He had learned to ignore it, with all the time he spent at Corbeau’s side. But sometimes… the light would catch his eyes just right, or he would smile just a bit too wide, and even Philippe would feel a chill down his spine.
You had told him as such. Corbeau had pounced on you, bared his teeth.
I can’t really explain it, you had said. Of course, it scared me for a moment! But then, it was like… even though he was different, I still saw the same man. I was still looking at Corbeau… And I know I can count on him. He got a hold of himself.
I… I felt kind of sorry for him, honestly.
What’s going on with him now, Philippe? Is he mad at me, or something…?
“Well… To be honest, I think you just need to have some courage.”
Corbeau raised a brow. “Courage,” he echoed.
“Yeah. I know you’re scared of hurting her, but she trusts you. Now you need to trust yourself, Boss. You already broke that poor girl’s heart. Go talk things over with her.”
His fingers drummed on the arm of the chair.
He may have watered at the mouth over your delectable innards, but… there was more to you. Your smile. The sparkle in your eyes. Your soft breaths against his skin as you cuddled close to him. The gentle beat of your heart that he found himself listening to for comfort. Everything he loved about you…
It wasn’t worth giving up.
“You’re right, Philippe,” he finally said. “I’ll go see her tomorrow.”
Philippe patted him on the shoulder. “I believe in you. Now let’s get out of here, yeah?”
You lay in your bed, scrolling mindlessly on your phone, searching for something to take your mind off of things. It had been a few days since your little spat with Corbeau, and you hadn’t been in the best spirits since. Your friends had noticed, and though you had insisted that it wasn’t that big of a deal, you figured they knew you were lying.
At least his bite wound was healing well. It was almost completely faded by now. The speed of recovery seemed to have been faster than an ordinary cut or scrape, much to your relief.
You wondered, briefly, if Philippe had talked to him like he said he would.
You were stuck in a torturous waiting period. As desperate as you were, you hadn’t reached the point of barging into his office. You figured that he would come to you eventually. After all, he had told you that he couldn’t resist you.
You didn’t have to wonder for much longer. Your phone screen suddenly lit up with a call from an unknown number.
You had a feeling you knew who it was. You let it ring a few times before answering.
“Hello?”
“Hello,” Corbeau’s voice came through the other end. “Are you busy right now?”
“Um… no,” you replied. There was a loud thump from his end. What on earth was he doing?
“Good. Can I… See you?”
You sighed. “Right now? It’s a little late for me to head over to your office, Corbeau.”
“No need,” he said. “Look outside.”
You turned to the windows, and jumped with surprise when you saw him standing on the balcony. He smiled at you, the eery glow from his eyes jutting through the darkness outside.
You got up and opened the door for him.
“You could have just come in the lobby, you know,” you scolded him.
“Hm… more fun this way.”
From behind his back he produced a bouquet, offering it to you. You took it from him. Flowers in your favorite color, arranged meticulously to be pleasant to the eye.
“Um… Thank you…” you mumbled.
You turned away to hide the growing flush to your cheeks. You set the flowers on your table, but kept your back to him.
“So… Why are you here?” You asked.
You felt his hands on your shoulders. He rubbed them back and forth for a moment, caressing you softly. His fingertips trailed up the side of your neck, briefly flitting over his bite mark, but dropped back to rest on your shoulder.
“I need to apologise to you,” he murmured.
His hands squeezed a little tighter.
“I’m sorry for how I treated you. You didn’t deserve any of it. I was just… stuck in my head. I was afraid. I couldn’t stop thinking about how everything could go wrong between us, and I could never live with myself if I… if I hurt you.”
“Beau…”
“But the truth is, despite all of that, my heart still longs for you. I want to have something with you. So please, if you don’t want this, if you don’t want me, then just say it now and I’ll leave.”
You turned to face him then, reaching to hold his cheeks. He leaned into your touch, and brushed a kiss against your palm, his fangs catching ever so slightly on your skin with the drag of his lips.
“I don’t want you to leave,” you said. “I never did.”
You stepped forward and melted into his arms. He held you tight, as if he was afraid you would pull away from him. You reached up and carded your fingers through his hair, sweeping it away from his forehead so that you could see more of his face. His golden eyes were fixed on you, soft with adoration.
“I’m a fool,” he said quietly.
“Uh huh. And what else?”
“And… and you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, and I could never bear another moment without you… Oh, mon cher, could you ever forgive me…?”
“I forgive you, Beau.”
He smiled, and bent to kiss you. You returned his affections, grateful to finally be enveloped by him once more. The slightest quiver was in his hands as he traced them over you—you weren’t sure whether it was from excitement or unease.
You gave him a gentle nudge away from you. He looked a bit confused, but he parted from you.
“Why don’t we go sit…?”
You made your way over to your bed and perched on the edge, patting the space next to you for him to join. He sat, his gaze still fixed on you.
You grabbed his wrist and placed his hand to rest over your heart. He stiffened. His own pulse was beating rapidly, but yours was… slow. Relaxed.
You traced the back of his hand with your fingertips, soothing the tension.
“You don’t have to be worried,” you said.
He sighed. “I’m trying.”
He could feel the rise and fall of your chest under his hand, steady and calm. The pulse of your heart, the blood rushing through your body. Your sweet scent, your gentle touch.
This was the right choice.
He leaned down and rested his head against you, your heart beating underneath where his cheek was pressed.
“I can believe it now,” he said. “That things would be okay.”
You let out a hum of approval. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Beau.”
“I know, I know…”
You pressed a kiss to the top of his head. He laughed softly.
Although he was content, the blood coursing through your veins so close to where he sat made the thought of tasting it again ever so tantalizing. His fangs were just itching to be plunged straight through your ribs and right into the warmth of your most vital parts.
“I want to bite you,” he said suddenly. “Right here.” He lifted his head, sitting up straight again. “Can I?”
Your brows raised. “Huh? Are you hungry…?”
There was the slightest tinge of red to his cheeks. “No, it’s just… for the pleasure of it…”
You thought for a moment. You wouldn’t be opposed to being bitten again. There was something almost… enjoyable about it. Something… intimate.
“Okay. You can.”
He stared at you, wide-eyed. “Wait, really? You don’t have to…”
You leaned closer to him. “But I want you to,” you whispered in his ear. “Maybe I like it.”
You watched as his pupils slowly dilated, until his eyes were swallowed by black.
“This is incredibly perverse…” he mumbled. Drool was starting to seep from the corner of his mouth, but he quickly licked it away.
Tentatively, he started to reach for the hem of your shirt, but you stopped him.
“Not so fast,” you said. “You first.”
“Fine…” he huffed.
He stood and shrugged off his suit jacket, tossing it somewhere unimportant. His tie came next, and you watched with bated breath as he finally undid the buttons of his shirt. The silky fabric now out of the way, you were met with an eye full of his bare torso.
Intricate tattoos covered his arms and his chest, travelling down his sides and onto his back—mostly black, but with pops of red and purple.
“I didn’t know you had tattoos,” you mused.
He reclaimed his seat next to you. “Yeah, well… they’re kind of meant to be hidden.”
You ran your fingers down his arm. “Shame. You wear them well.”
He gave you a lopsided grin. “Is that so?”
“Mmhm. Pretty boy,” you cooed.
You felt his hand slip under your shirt, trailing up your back slightly before retreating.
“Now, may I?” He asked.
You nodded.
He gripped the hem of your shirt and pulled it up over your head. You were still covered by your bra, but it was nonetheless flustering to have him see so much of your skin. Instinctually, you crossed your arms over your chest, averting your eyes.
He gently nudged you to lie on your back, your head falling to rest on your pillows.
“Don’t be shy,” he said softly, pulling your arms away so they laid at your sides.
His lips met yours, and you gladly accepted his kiss. You could almost feel the hunger in his movements, the desire that leeched its way through him as he gave a teasing nip to your lower lip. The excited flurry of his hands as they gripped your waist tight.
His mouth traveled lower, peppering kisses down your jawline and your neck. When he came across the remnants of his old bite, he frowned slightly.
“Hm… Looks like it’s healing okay…” he muttered. He studied it for a moment more before giving the spot an apologetic brush of his lips.
You winced slightly as he raked his nails down your sternum. Little red marks of irritated skin followed in their path.
He glanced at you. “I’ll be careful, but this is going to hurt a little, okay?”
You swallowed thickly, bracing yourself. “Okay. Go ahead…”
He lowered his head to your chest, steadying himself with a hand on your shoulder. He searched for the perfect spot to bite, quickly finding it and settling his mouth there.
Your heart thudded underneath him, the rattling of air in your lungs quick as you took shallow breaths.
His teeth plunged into your chest.
Pain erupted from the site, jolting through your body. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you pulled—perhaps a bit harder than you intended, but he didn’t seem to be bothered by it.
Blood oozed from your chest like a fountain, with a sickening slurp that followed as Corbeau swallowed it down. You focused the best you could on maintaining your breaths, but you were quickly seeing stars.
“Beau!” You managed to squeak out, but it faded somewhere into a moan.
It hurt, but it hurt so good.
He was acutely aware of your yanking at his locks, but he could care less. If it helped to ground you, then so be it.
Somewhere inside of him he liked it.
The flood of your marrow down his throat was nothing short of intoxicating. He gnawed at your flesh, his tongue prodding at your insides, sifting more of your blood to his mouth. A particularly hard suck led a high-pitched whimper out from you.
He paused, pulled himself away.
“Holding up…?” He asked.
You looked somewhat dazed, but you managed to nod. The ache in your chest was nothing short of a stabbing pain, and yet you were enjoying it. You lay there, practically hyperventilating as your body was flooded with adrenaline. You didn’t dare to look down, for fear of what bloody mess awaited you. It was bad, judging by the crimson splotches around his mouth.
He went back to it, licking away what had dribbled out in his absence. Your heart was practically beating out of your chest, dangerously close to where he jabbed his fangs under your skin. Euphoric. No other prey of his would dare to let him get so close. A soft growl rumbled in the back of his throat, the predator inside of him pleased with you. Your body was so soft, your blood so warm, so delicious…
He drank for as long as he dared, not wanting to send you into a dangerous tipping point. At last he pulled away, panting. Your blood was smeared all over his face and on his chest, dripping down onto your own face as he hovered over you.
“How does it feel?” He breathed. “Now that your heart belongs to me.”
You mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out.
He kissed your forehead, staining your blood there in the mark of his lips. “And so I give mine to you. Forever. I swear it.”
Your head was throbbing, your limbs heavy. You were vaguely aware of him scooping you up from the bed and carrying you to the bathroom, but your vision quickly went dark as your body couldn’t take any more.
Morning. Or was it afternoon? You weren’t sure. The sun was up, and you were tucked in your bed, Corbeau lounging at your side.
“Ow…” you choked out.
At the smallest sound of your stirring, he was up and checking over you.
“There you are,” he said. “How are you feeling, sweetheart? Not in too much pain, I hope…”
You felt around your chest. Bandages were bound tight around your torso, slightly damp but otherwise clean.
“What happened…?” You mumbled.
“Don’t worry, you’re alright. I fixed you up. Potions are surprisingly effective at treating my bites… I suppose it’s because it’s similar to a Pokémon’s.”
He was right. Your skin was smoothed over, no sign of the earlier carnage you had been subjected to.
“But you still need to rest,” he continued. “No amount of medicine can regenerate lost blood, I’m afraid…”
With some effort, you managed to roll on your side to face him.
“Don’t go…” you whispered.
He gave you a soft smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He pulled you close, pressing a few soft kisses to your face. You nestled into the warmth of his arms.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
“Huh? For what…?”
“For trusting me.”
He hardly looked monstrous now, lying next to you on the pillows. He was just Corbeau.
Your parents are excited to announce that they’ve found you a husband. You’re less enthusiastic. Marriage? To a man who was no more than a stranger to you?
When you meet him, you can’t tell what he’s thinking. His face remains calm, blank, his voice flat as he chats with your father. You stay quiet.
Cheer up, your father says as you leave the Rust Syndicate office. It’ll be good for the family business. Corbeau’s hardly strapped for cash. You’ll never have to worry about money again.
Your wedding is small. Few guests fill the venue aside from your family and some people from the Rust Syndicate. When you share a dance with him, he quietly tells you that you look pretty in your dress.
When you arrive at his home later… you’re surprised to find that you’ve been given your own bedroom. He lingers at the doorway while you have a look around, and gives you a brief good-night before disappearing down the hallway.
Living with him feels more like having a roommate than a husband. You have the house to yourself for most of the day, and it’s not much different when he’s there. You chat with each other over dinner, or when you’re both on the couch watching the evening news, but he leaves you to yourself most of the time.
Affection from him is rare, but not completely absent. Sometimes he brushes a polite kiss to your cheek or the back of your hand when he comes home. The occasional “dear” or “darling” will slip out when he talks to you.
He brings you with him to events. Parties, battle tournaments—whatever he’s invited to, you’re coming along. It’s easy to miss, but there’s a touch of happiness to his voice when he introduces you as his wife. His arm will find its way around your waist if you stray too far from his side.
Your mother calls one evening, asks you how you’re enjoying the married life. You say it’s fine, you’re getting along well. You glance at Corbeau, but he’s absorbed in a book. You tell your mother that you’re happy, that he’s a very respectful husband. She gushes for a moment before launching into a tangent about your father. It was only meant for her to hear, but across the room, he smiles.
You go shopping, perhaps more than you used to. He doesn’t seem to mind that you spend his money. You wander into luxury boutiques, your fingers grazing over fabrics you would have never dreamed of affording before. You buy a fancy dress, just as a treat for yourself. Back at home, he walks in on you as you’re admiring yourself in the mirror. You ask him what he thinks of it. His eyes trace over you, slow, then he says it suits you. You hear him mutter that he’s lucky to have such a beautiful wife as he leaves the room.
You’re out on a walk with him when a chill starts to creep through the air. He notices you shivering, and silently drops his jacket over your shoulders. It’s warm, and covered in the scent of his cologne. You thank him and happily cuddle into it. This time, when you reach to hold his hand, he doesn’t pull away until you get back home.
You’re making dinner when he arrives back from the office. Instead of leaving you be, as he usually would, he drops his things on the kitchen table and comes over to you. His arms wrap around your middle as he hugs you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. You pause, your hands becoming still over the food you were preparing. He says softly that he missed you. You whisper that you missed him too. He turns your head towards him, and kisses you, gentle. It goes on a little too long, and you finally have to push him away with a laugh so you can finish cooking. He’s happy to help.
You’re getting ready to go to sleep when he comes in your room and asks if you’d like to join him for the night. You follow him to his bedroom, where you find that he’s already added a pillow for you to his bed, the covers turned down for you to climb under. You get comfortable, and he’s quick to be at your side, wishing you sweet dreams with a peck to your forehead. You never sleep in your room again.
