#CW Devil Imagery

[kikzudoodlez]

🤍 Angel and Devil 🖤

Did this for someone's DIYS {I don't remember how to spell it lol} on Instagram, I don't really like the background though >:(

#bfb #bfdi #CW Angel Imagery #CW Devil Imagery #Tagged it just in case #bfb leafy #bfb blocky #KWArtz

[ohitsminuet]

> wahoooo

#cw fictional alcohol #cw angel imagery #cw religion #inanimate insanity #inanimate insanity ii #mephone4 ii #mephone4s ii #toilet ii #mepad ii #the that handsome devil power hour #Spotify

[winniefrezcomics]

A Prince and a King: the Devil’s first deal- PREQUEL part 1/2

I may have drawn these 16 pages last, but they actually come FIRST in the timeline lol

#cuphead #cuphead angel #cuphead devil #cuphead au #cuphead dlc bosses #cuphead fusion au #cw lava #cw burns #cw religion #religious imagery #lucifer morningstar

[sebbyisland]

“With this you are mine now. Let’s eat together, sleep together, and have a lovely life.”

(Desc in alt)

#Updated version of an old piece #Cw gore #cw blood #Cw cannibalism #ugh so cathartic to finally type out these tags bc I’m done #Chainsaw man fanart #makima #Denji #pochita #csm part 1 #No because I always believed if Makima won she would keep Denji’s corpse which would still have the scent of Pochita #Obvi she can’t consume csm but Denji is like her vessel I’m thinking like communion at church #If Pochita is Makima’s god then Denji is kinda her sacrifice for the good of humanity he’s kinda jesus son of god … #I mean he literally rose from the dead surrounded by crosses. #Csm is heavily based on Dante’s Inferno I don’t think it’s far fetched to say there’s Christian imagery throughout #Anyways. Denji is the body and blood of christ that Makima consumes to be closer to her god Pochita #Who she thinks will cleanse the world from evil and absolve her loneliness #Note that he defeats Makima with his human BODY and BLOOD devil weapon!! Btw I censored his face bc Makima doesn’t care abt it #There is only taking and taking from Denji and then BLAMING HIM for it he is MAKIMA’S LOLITA!!!! #God. Ok. I’m still sooooo normal abt the makiden dynamic. #Makima truthfully just wants Denji for his body and Denji just wants to be loved but bc he’s young isolated and inexperienced he accepts he #remember he says his type of girl is one who wants him #Makima REALLY wanted the csm heart inside him #Even tho she never cared for him Makima still provided warmth and comfort for Denji he can’t forget that #At the end of part 1 he knows all this but still loves her and cares about her as a person and #as a mother figure and as his first object of affection after pochita died. And the complicated feelings from being sexually groomed. #Makima was his first human connection and she was never even paying attention to him #she’s a lot of things but I interpret her ultimately as the worst mother figure in the world #It’s so crazy you consider all this and how historically chainsaws were developed to sever the umbilical cord. #how many connections to his life did Denji sever in order to reach the end of part 1? How many lives lost at the cost of him gaining his ow

[ex-january]

My god you break the skin,

But may i be thy heaven?

Will you take my sickness-?

While i deprive you of your health.

#homestuck #hs #mine #my art #dirk strider #jake english #dirkjake #hom3stuck #song: divine loser - clem turner #angel/devil imagery my beloved #dirk clawing into someone who was never planning on going anywhere #blood cw

[rslashrats]

what would u do...??

#my art #star #angel imagery cw #devil imagery cw #doodle

[flootdraws]

#flootzavut #flootdraws #art #madeleine hyland #the amazing devil #fanart #close up of eye #close up eye #eye close up #cw eye imagery #Jackie I'm sorry if you see this I tried to tag okay #♥��� #portrait #pencil portrait

[storytellering]

connected

#dmc #devil may cry #nero #vergil #cw mpreg #(gently implied) #birth imagery #no one look at me this is emotionally cathartic for me pls dont bully me #idk I always feel like I will incur the wrath of Something whenever I draw birth giver Vergil but listen #pls dont unfollow me i promise this time really is the last it was just a very compelling image and i needed to vomit it out #i wasnt gonna post it but my friends said it looked nice #my art

[vi-visected]

guess who fuckin got here today

#yes i have religious trauma #yes i consider myself a reformed catholic #yes i fill my room with religious imagery #WE EXIST #vivi’s personal tag #religious imagery #cw religious imagery #it’s michael yeeting the devil

[lilac-lemonade]

Oh no. Oh no I'm having thoughts about the season finale again because I was scrolling through the tag and was reminded of the fact that Mike just pours an entire bottle of beer over Isaac's head before Isaac goes up to his room to dry his shirt. And like, I KNOW that Mike doesn't start the fire and it just starts because Isaac drapes his shirt over the radiator, but like. he poured alcohol over his son and then left him in a burning building and that's crazy. Not just for the obvious reasons of Mike being a shitty father, but just the whole thing of like, he essentially doused him in fuel and lit him and that's insane, it's making me insane

#child abuse cw #(just to be safe) #mike stevens my beloathed #something about this imagery is just refusing to leave me alone #isa watches the devil's hour

[mtnsedge]

"I secured a direct hit on an enemy encampment, saw bodies or parts of bodies go up in the air, and heard the desperate yelling of the wounded or the runaways. I had to confess to myself that it was one of the happiest moments of my life." — Henry deMan, British Expeditionary Force, First World War

Something that I’m particularly interested in exploring with Jakob, especially in his Cyberpunk verse (given the near-constant exposure to violence that lower-class residents of Night City experience on a day-to-day basis) is the sensation of relief that high-adrenaline situations can offer to many combat veterans, especially those with severe PTSD who lack access to proper mental healthcare.

There is decades worth of research conducted by entities like the Department of Veterans Affairs that have noted the penchant combat veterans have towards potentially fatal thrill-seeking. Prolonged exposure to stress and adrenaline during deployments can essentially “rewire” the brain, normalizing high levels of stress brought on by consistent combat trauma in order to feel as if they are functioning normally due to the life-and-death circumstances that once dictated their existence: 

“You see people nowadays that are hooked on drugs, heroin, cocaine, whatever the case may be. The biggest high you can ever get is a natural adrenaline rush. Somebody trying to kill you. There’s nothing that will ever come to that rush.” ( x )

This often splits, depending on the veteran. There are those whose exposure to combat has made them adverse to violence or high-stress situations. Based upon what we see of Jakob in-game, he seems to be the opposite — a man who revels in violence and who functions best in moments that present fatal levels of danger, perhaps best explained by First World War veteran Daniel Sweeney when he wrote to his fiance, “I was really sorry I did it, but God knows I could not help myself.” ( x )

In the canon of Far Cry 5, we know that Jakob’s survivability is tested with a fellow airborne comrade by the name of Miller, who he is stranded in the desert with during deployment. We know that he ultimately kills his friend and eats his corpse in order to survive the journey back to an allied base, an incident which he refers to as an “OPPORTUNITY” to the player character during one of his cutscenes. He embraces the brutality of death and the role that it serves to bolster the camaraderie and fighting spirit of his Chosen, and the demoralizing effect that such carnage has on the civilian population of Hope County. 

We know that he is suffering not only from deteriorating physical health (as evidenced by his weakened, raspy tone in certain audio files from the game, where his breathing is deep and heavily labored, and he coughs frequently). We know that he is suffering mentally and indulging in the same addictions mentioned earlier, as evidenced by the copious amounts of liquor and beer bottles you find in his room in some of the in-game files. On the surface he embraces death as a tool to prove his merit in a world dominated by the powerful, and as an opportunity for survival, but struggles with the mental ramifications of it.

How does this translate into his Cyberpunk verse?

He adapts far better to Night City than he ever did to civilian life in his more “mundane” canon setting. 

Jakob is surrounded by near-constant violence — especially as a disenfranchised and disillusioned veteran from the lowest rungs of society who has been cast away by the same government that recruited and exploited him, he lacks access to what little social tools are available to help individuals like him reintegrate into society. This causes him to gravitate to areas and occupations within the city that will offer him some manner of an “adrenaline fix” — it also leaves him feeling remarkably frustrated with the faulty power structures that exist within the country, and incredibly susceptible to the recruitment tactics of groups like the 6th Street gang, which promise a sense of purpose and community for those on the fringes of a society dominated by the apathetic interests of corporate and government entities.  

It also exacerbates his sense of suicidal ideation and makes him especially prone to recklessness and self harm. Where his canon setting offers a copious amount of liquor to distract from these feelings, the world of Cyberpunk offers other vices for him to indulge in. This is particularly true of Extreme Braindances, specifically in the flavor of your initial introduction to them in “The Information” mission in Cyberpunk 2077. Plugging into an immersive simulation that allows him to experience the same adrenaline rush of kill-or-be-killed wartime combat, he is able to microdose on the same death and hypervigilance that he learned to function with as an adult. 

#〉 STUDY ₎ dark is the road where the devils play. #I have a lot to say about this particular topic so I feel like each verse of his deserves its own meta on this subject. #But for the time being this is just a brief overview on his psychology concerning his own death and self-preservation #we haven't even gotten into the role that the violence of his own childhood plays in this mindset but that's a separate meta post too ;A; #tldr Jakob's relationship status with death on facebook would be ''it's complicated'' #cw: war #cw: wartime imagery #cw: cannibalism

[intrepidsz]

evan x youngbae / @hecticromantic

evan prays, just to be safe. he kneels by the foot of his bed, threaded fingers resting against slightly scratchy sheets as he stares -- a little expectantly -- at the wooden figure against the wall. he isn't particularly optimistic (nor much of a believer) but evan fears that tragedy could strike him in its bitterness. if he's being punished from above the clouds -- mock, performative apology and repentance seems kinder than an outright disavowing. so he tears his gaze away, tucks his chin down to squeeze both eyes shut. evan manages a slow, calming inhale before a telltale creak reverberates behind him, jerking the reluctant faithful from focus. he whips his head around, wide eyes and tense shoulders only softening when youngbae comes into view. "oh. you scared me."

#* ... starter ( 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑 ) #* evan. 𝑡𝘩𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑠 #cw religion #/ starting with a lowball swing . . . and then it will skyrocket into devil imagery in time . :-) ) ) ) #/ also not as short as i expected but alas ..... #! beta .

[winniefrezcomics]

Oh damn, I forgot to post the rest of A Prince and a King here!!

Part 4/5

#cuphead #cuphead angel #cuphead devil #cuphead au #cuphead fusion AU #dlc bosses #cw religion #religious imagery

[charliemwrites]

Yes yes, I know. Part 9 for Charmed Slasher is coming out soon, I promise.

BUT! I had this Thought and just had to do it real quick!

(CW for violent imagery and actual violence)

Simon's been watching you for weeks.

You're such a sweet, quiet thing. Shy. Happy to let your coworkers lead conversations, chiming in only when directly addressed. You smile like sun peeking through clouds, slow and beaming, prying through darkness.

And they way you peer up through your eyelashes, the corners of your mouth tipping up. Oh, oh... he wants to ruin you.

Thinks of you while he strokes himself in bed, looking up at him through those thick lashes. Sticking together with unshed tears as you choke on his cock. That quietly pleased smile when he purrs that you're doing so well, almost halfway there...

It's becoming a distraction, this preoccupation with you. So many others just let their eyes slide over you, but not Simon. No, he sees you.

That you shred your bottom lip bloody when you're deep in thought. You wrinkle your nose and squeeze your eyes shut when you're trying not to sneeze. Always burn your mouth on your first sip of coffee.

He watches you in your home. The way you curl up with your favorite blanket, leaned up against the arm of the couch. A perfect open space for him to share with you. He memorizes your routines and imagines slotting himself into your life.

He shouldn't. That's not going to stop him.

Price has been staring at him hard when he thinks Simon won't notice. Gaz has been jumpier; the recruits whispering more fervently. They can sense him slipping; too many missions. Too much bloodshed. It's soaked past clothes and skin, muscle and marrow. His soul, if he has one, must be drenched crimson.

He needs an anchor to keep him from floating adrift in this sea of blood.

He's found you. So precious. So delicate. He couldn't let himself be too rough with you; you'd break so easily. Oh, his hands itch to break you down piece by piece like his favorite gun. Gut you and clean you out, only to put you back together again with his own hands, his initials stamped into you.

There's no salvation for someone like him, but you're all the Paradise he needs.

And then you go and do such a stupid, silly thing.

You go on a date. Look like something he wants to stain in your clingy jeans and low-cut top. Hair done just so. He wants to see it sweaty and tangled after burying his fingers in it; his vision goes red at the thought of anyone else getting that honor.

But no... no. It's not your fault, really. You don't know any better. But you will. You will very, very soon.

Simon watches your date greet you outside, slip an arm around your waist like it belongs there. Like you belong to anyone but Simon. The only things that saves the man from a bloody end right there is that you gently extricate yourself to go inside.

He seethes on the sidewalk across the street, fingers twitching for his Ka-Bar. The images of his initials on your perfect skin is burned behind his eyelids, and afterimage superimposing itself over his vision.

It's time you knew who you belong to.

--

Your father always said you have a temper like the Devil. Didn’t understand what he meant as a sunshine six-year-old, giggling after butterflies and munching on cheese sticks. Your parents’ pride and joy, their first and only babygirl.

You understood later, though, standing at the broken window and watching a pool of blood spread and spread and spread….. like leaving a marker tip on the page too long.

You’re Old Testament wrathful, fire and brimstone, churning beneath a lake of oil and ink. Pitch black, iridescent rainbow on the surface, too thick to realize what roils beneath until one misstep breaks that molecular tension—

Rage will boil up in your stomach, scorch your chest. Burns acidic in your throat and stains your teeth on venom. You don’t drown in anger, you wade into it until you float.

Not to say that you’re an angry person. You’re not. Not much to bother being angry about, by your estimate. Disappointed, resigned, annoyed, exasperated - sure. But the raw fury that sharpens your teeth and claws? It’s an energy expenditure your mind hardly ever feels the need to spark.

But there are some things…

“C’mon don’t be a fucking prude.” He’s drunk. He’s drunk and pushy and you feel your ribs expand, expand, expand…

“You fuckin’ owe me something.”

You show a little too much canine as you reply. “Because you bought me a couple drinks I didn’t ask for?”

“Fuckin’ spoiled bitch. Wha’ else d’you want, huh? Fuckin’ money?”

He pushes you. Your shoulders bump the alley wall behind you. The sky is so so dark above, no clouds, no moon. Even next to trash, the stink of that awful whiskey burns your nose.

You think of broken windows and blooms of blood.

“Just fuckin’ get on your knees.”

“No.”

“The fuck do you jus’ - it wasn’t a fuckin’—”

“No.”

His face twists, ugly and red (not the right shade of red) puffing up like a particularly loud bird.

“C’mere, you little—“

It’s nothing, nothing at all. A sidestep and a full-body shove. Your timing is perfect. You didn’t touch your second drink when your nail polish turned black.

Your “date” however, is wobbly and uncoordinated, you lean forwards on the balls of your feet in anticipation. Watch him bounce off the brick, stumble over a couple overfilled bags, and crack his temple on the metal corner of the dumpster.

You tilt your head as he collapses in a pathetic heap, barely conscious. Make a point to roll him over onto his back. The last sky he’ll ever see with any luck. You lean your foot into his stomach, watch him turn pale and then green. He’s not going to be able to roll over before all that drink comes up.

Satisfied, you step back as you brush brick dust and dirt from your pants and sleeves. Movement at the head of the alley catches your attention, but by the time you look, the disturbance is gone. Likely someone just passing by. You don’t care if you're wrong.

Below you, the man - you never bothered to actually remember his name - gurgles and starts to rasp wetly. The fury ebbs, a tide dragging out with bloody foam at the edge. You let out a slow, satisfied sigh and navigate to the alley's entrance.

You've barely stepped from the shadows of the buildings when there's a sharp pinch in your neck. The world goes black in seconds.

#thoughts™️ #cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic #kidnapper ghost

[shotoh]

❝ SO… ASS, T!TS, OR THIGHS? ❞ feat. itoshi sae

— what’s his preference?

cw + tw. 18+, smut, minors dni, fem!reader, dom!sae, all characters are aged up to over their 20s, sae’s ogling you (respectfully and as your boyfriend), backshots, oral (f!receiving), pet names (sweetheart, love), lowkey exhibitionism, spanking, hinted creampie, brief religious imagery idk i’m putting this here just in case

notes. kaneshiro did not know the demons he unleashed when he decided to tell us sae has an ass fetish...

ass.

sae’s a very straightforward man who knows exactly what he likes and dislikes. and to put it bluntly, he loves your ass. the man has a canon ass fetish and we’re going to respect his tastes to the t.

that isn’t to say he doesn’t have an appreciation for your other assets (i’m sorry) though. he always ensures that every part of you is loved and revered, whether by buying you clothing that emphasizes your beauty in all the right areas or exchanging subtle (and/or not so subtle) touches, ghosting his hand or straight up palming your lovely curves.

but if there’s ever a chance you catch itoshi sae slipping, it’s because of your gorgeous ass.

regardless if he’s able to admit it or not, sae is the reason why you two can’t work out at public gyms anymore. 1.) because he gets recognized way too easily as a world renown professional athlete. and 2.) because he can never stop ogling your ass as you’re working out. and, for an added bonus: 3.) because of what ends up happening after you catch him doing so.

there have been countless times, you’ve found yourself in a squat or pose which focuses on your glutes. while in those positions, your ass looks incredible, and sae is always there to let you know even if he never says so out loud. you’d be hands and knees on your mat, ready to do a few sets of leg kickbacks, and the midfielder will be a couple machines away, sweat clinging to his workout gear as he reaches for the water bottle next to his feet.

when he takes a swig from his hydro, his ocean blue eyes are evidently at an angle. if you draw his line of vision, you’ll discover he’s watching you go through your exercises. it’s almost a ritual for him, to observe and admire the way your butt is accentuated with every stretch, your muscles flexing along your well-developed curves as your seamless shorts cling to you like a second skin. all this is done out of utmost respect, of course. at least that’s what sae likes to think.

you’re not at all oblivious to his wandering eyes, and sometimes you like teasing your audience, angling yourself in a way that allows him a clearer view of your movements. after you finish going through the motions, you stand up from the mat and stretch before turning over to send him a cheeky little wink. to add more oil to the fire, you bring your hand behind you and lift your cheeks, before releasing them to let them bounce before his eyes.

it’s downright hypnotic and sinful, but sae can’t help but indulge in the devil as he swings his towel over his shoulder. then, he immediately drags you in the showers with him to watch your ass bounce some more, pistoning his hips against you and splitting you on his cock under the running waters.

“what did you think was gonna happen when you pulled a stunt like that, sweetheart? such a naughty girl,” he grunts, muttering curses about how well you’re taking him while his eyes are glued on the flesh ricocheting off his thrusts. honestly, he has some nerve reprimanding you when he’s the one who started it with his obvious gawking, but if it means you’ll be blissfully filled with his cum and creaming all over his cock, you don’t have any complaints.

eventually, sae has his own private gym installed in his residence. which is what he honestly should have done in the beginning given all the money he has, but his trips to overseas matches doesn’t grant him many opportunities to use it.

that aside, your prior antics don’t really change, except the two of you are much more shameless since you don’t have to worry about stray eyes or cameras everywhere. usually, you find yourself only a few sets into your routine before sae is bending you over the equipment while pulling your leggings down to your ankles. yet somehow he’s not tearing a hole through them, to your astonishment.

he has some class at least, but that means little when the midfielder prys your asscheeks apart with firm hands, fixated on how your glistening pussy twitches and your flesh overlaps between his fingers. “what do you want, sweetheart?” he asks in a deceptively gentle tone given his grip that makes you feel so exposed.

you crane your head, features flustered and hot. “cock, sae.”

“where?” his stoic expression acts ignorant even when he already knows what you’re about to say.

“inside me!” you cry and you’re met with a quick spank that stings your ass.

“manners,” he reminds you, piercing teal eyes glowing at the mild red imprint he left behind.

your voice is quieter but shaky, “i-inside my pussy, please… i’ll behave...”

“that’s all i wanted to hear, my love.” he rewards you with his lips over the faint mark on your skin, tenderly soothing the pain while worshiping you all the same before he moves away to line himself to your hole. he enters slowly, loving how your tight, yummy walls take him as his length gradually disappears. your nails dig into the leather beneath you, and you rasp a sensual cry as his cock deliciously kisses all the right spots inside you over and over again.

copyright 2023 shotoh, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated anywhere else so please do not repost this or share my content on tiktok.

#sae x reader #sae smut #blue lock smut #bllk smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #itoshi sae smut #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #sae x you #sae x y/n #blue lock imagines #blue lock headcanons

[heavenlyakin]

Illicit Affairs

Vampire!Atsumu Miya x Fem!Reader - MINORS DNI

cw: 18+, minors DNI, reader is a british socialite, monster-fucking, religious imagery and language (reader isn’t necessarily religious but mentions god and the devil in the Christian sense), vore (bloodsucking), atsumu picks reader up, she falls a lot so if that annoys you don’t read this, “whore” is used in a derogatory way, Atsumu has electricity bc obvs (vampire science is better), violence (beheading on page and murder mention), age gap (like obvs he’s a vampire), virginity loss, oral (f. and m. receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, general smut, and violence on page. 

wc: ~15k 

a/n: This is long. I’m sorry. However, I had the best time writing it, so maybe I’m not sorry. I would like to thank Kashi, Mimi, and Rue for all your time listening to me rant about this fic, reading it, giving me suggestions, and just being great friends to me. I hope you enjoy this short story! Happy Halloween! 

–

Outside London, October 1845. 

Right foot first. 

As the music blasts through the chapel from the band to your right, you realize you can’t breathe. You try to inhale, but it does nothing. Seeing Graham standing at the end of the aisle makes you wish you’d skipped tea. 

Left foot. 

Your eyes scan the room, looking for the blonde head of hair of the woman your future husband has been fucking on the side. She’s from a London brothel, but Graham has given her an apartment outside of town and an allowance to live on. 

Right foot. 

Graham smiles at you. 

Left foot. 

All the smiling faces make you want to scream. Your father's hold on your arm, the bouquet, and the dress all feel suffocating—the dress’s pretty sleeves lined with baby blue lace and thread might as well be handcuffs. 

Right foot. 

He’s only a few steps away now. You spot the blonde face you don’t immediately recognize, two rows from the front. He would allow her to sit that close? It’s embarrassing enough to have the bridesmaids gossiping about it while you were dressing, but to sit her so close… it hurts. 

Left foot. 

The music comes to its crescendo. You have to get out of here. 

Right foot. 

You have to get out of here. 

One last step. 

Graham smiles at you again, his teeth pearly white and perfect. His green eyes sparkle. His brown hair combed back with product making him look older. As the music dies down, your father whispers something to you, but you can’t hear it. 

The Priest steps forward, his lips moving, the cross dangling from the long chain on your neck swings from left to right. It gets hushed, everyone on the altar looking at you and your father too. 

Did they say something to you? 

“Apologies, can you repeat that?” You smile the best you can, and the Priest smiles back. 

“We just need you to step forward,” the Priest answers and you realize your father agreed to give you away to Graham. 

Your father had released his arm from yours, and you realize nothing is holding onto you anymore. You look to your father, his sweet supportive smile greeting you. Turning back to face Graham, you try to take a step forward, up onto the altar but your legs shake. 

You can’t do this. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, dropping the beautiful bouquet to the ground. 

Turning, you feel your father's fingers on your dress sleeve, but you don’t give him time to grip on. You’re darting back down the aisle and out of the chapel. Your feet move faster than your mind, only able to think one thing. 

Please don’t fall or break a heel. Please don’t fall or break a heel. 

The chapel is on the outskirts of town, and running north of it takes you into the woods. You trip as you begin to climb the hill, your shoes catching on roots and debris. You push yourself off the ground, seeing your dress's hem is already caked in mud. Shaking your head, you ignore it and take off as fast as you can. The incline stops soon, and you’re fighting through the underbrush. 

The sun is setting, lighting everything in an orange glow as the fog begins to set in the forest. You’re still running, well, running would be a stretch. Your breathing is heavy and your lungs burn with each inhale. How long has it been since you took off from the chapel? The wedding began at 6, and with the sun setting you believe it’s nearing 7. 

How much distance can you put between you and them in an hour? 

You turn, looking back, and see only trees and brush. Even when you try to focus your eyes, you can’t see the lights from town. You must be at least a few miles into the forest now. You take off again, more at a speed walk than a run. Your legs are sore and your heels feel blistered in the heels you chose for this day. 

As you climb up another hill, you wonder what the fuck you’re doing. You could be off to your honeymoon now, two months traveling Europe and visiting castles and ruins. It would be warm in your rooms and only partly miserable, having to listen to Graham and suffering the consummation of the marriage. Not that you worried he’d be bad, but that you wouldn’t live up to what he's used to with that mistress of his. 

Graham isn’t friendly to be around alone, either. The few times you were left unsupervised he reminded you of the position you were in. Your mother ran off years ago, apparently with a sailor; ruining your family’s reputation, despite the wealth your father holds. Marrying him would restore your name, and he’d be the one to inherit your fortune since you are the only child of your father. 

He insulted you, a few times, but then smiled like he was saying something friendly. His kisses on your hand always lingered too long for your comfort. Something about him just made your skin crawl, honestly. The idea of spending the rest of your life with that man led you here to the woods. 

As you reach the top of the hill, it plateaus and the trees become more sparse, well if you can call it sparse. Looking around, the fog has entirely settled at the base of the trees and brush, making it hard to see. You slow down to a walk, letting yourself catch your breath as you go. You stumble on your dress and the fallen branches, making you fall on your face. Luckily, you caught yourself before your face took the brunt of it, but your right cheek does hit the ground. 

When you push yourself back up, you see a faint yellow glow across the way, through a few trees and bushes. You gather the skirts of your dress in your hands and make your way towards it, the chill in your body desperate for the hope of a fire. As you get close, you see the shadowy figure of a body, large and brooding. 

The light seems to be coming from a lantern, so you give up hope of getting warm anytime soon. You take a few more steps until you see what’s happening. The figure is digging a hole in the ground, a body lying beside the mound of dirt. As you step back, a twig snaps, and the figure turns towards you. 

You run again, getting a few feet away before you fall, your body hitting the ground with a thud. Unlike last time, you didn’t catch yourself. Your right ankle throbs and you worry you’ve broken it. As you turn to face away from the ground, the figure that was once yards away is now hovering over you. How did they get here so fast? It’s only been a few seconds. 

It’s a man, an extremely handsome man. His eyes glow gold, and it confuses you but something about it calms your nerves, even though you know you should be running. Yet, you’re frozen in place. 

He extends out his hand, and you see his nails are long, and sharpened to a point on the tips. “Are you in need of assistance, miss?” 

You nod your head, unable to make a sound. However, you still can’t move. Even if you took his hand, with your ankle throbbing the way it is, you’re certain you can’t walk. 

“Here, let me help you,” He leans down, and you notice something on his face. Is that blood or mud? In the light, you can’t tell. 

He picks you up, holding you bridal-style against his chest. His scent enthralls you, rose with a hint of mahogany. You inhale, the scent putting you at ease and your eyes flutter shut for a moment. 

This…, you think, this is what you’re supposed to feel on your wedding day. 

You shake the thought from your mind, opening your eyes and observing the man carrying you. His blonde hair falls over his forehead, his skin creamy smooth and almost glowing in the faint moonlight. 

“Who are you?” You find your voice. 

“Atsumu,” he answers. “Atsumu Miya.” 

You nod, looking forward and letting him carry you through the woods. You’re still well aware of the throbbing in your right ankle. “Where are you taking me?” 

“I live close by. You can rest there and clean up.” He says, still not looking at you. 

His eyes are focused on the forest ahead of him, and you wonder what close by means to him. It could be an hour if he considers that close. The sun has set now, and the only glow is from his eyes and the moon. He left the lantern back with the body… 

The body! He was burring a body! 

“Let me go!” You thrash against him and he holds you tighter, looking down at you with his eyebrows furrowed. “I said, let me go!” You yell this time. 

When your eyes meet his, something washes over you again and you begin to relax, no longer feeling the urge to fight. But… but… he was burying someone. A body! What was he doing back there? Why are you not fighting anymore? 

“Who was that back there? The body!” Even if you feel relaxed, you can still question him. 

Atsumu looks down at you, his face unreadable but his eyes giving that same intense look that he’s had on his face the whole time. 

“Nothing you should be concerned with.” He looks back ahead of you as he walks. 

The forest begins to open up, a clearing forming ahead. As you get closer, the frame of a large house… well, if you can call it a house. It looks more like a castle. The gates around the home open as Atsumu approaches, creaking as they go. The fog seems to have vanished, hiding out at the edge of the forest. 

Warm lights glow from inside the castle, and you wonder if running water is inside. In the last five years, running water has even been installed in the lower class homes, and with the amount of wealth, this castle shows… it must. A warm bath sounds so delightful now, you could almost beg for one. 

As if he’s read your mind he speaks, “I’ll have a bath drawn for you once we're inside.” 

You nod, looking up at him. He continues to look forward, but you see a vein bulging from his neck. Like something in him is straining. He seems to carry you just fine, so it can’t be you causing the strain. 

As the castle doors open, your eyes dart around to look everywhere. The entrance is grand, decorated in the latest fashion with dark wood, red rugs, and warm light glowing from every corner of the room. The staircase has a gothic feel, leading forward and then splitting to go left and right to the opposite wings of the castle. 

He carries you up the stairs that lead to the right wing of the castle, taking you down a long hall that curves as you go. A set of double doors open, as if he willed them to, and he sets you down on a forest green sofa. Your body relaxes into it, the soft cushions welcoming your sore bones. 

Atsumu brings the room to life with light, the chandelier lighting overhead. You admire the crystal work before looking around the bedroom. It’s larger than your father’s master bedroom in your estate back home. You watch as Atsumu sheds his cloak, lying it across a chaise near the four-poster bed. 

“Your bath should be ready, do you need assistance?” He asks, walking towards you and you shake your head. 

“I believe I can take it from here. Thank you,” you dismiss him. 

He doesn’t leave. He puts his hands behind him, stepping aside, so you can go through to what you assume is the bathing room. You stand, putting your weight on your left foot so you can try and make it to the bath. As you step on your right, you cry out in pain. You begin to fall, but strong arms catch you. 

“Stop being difficult, just let me assist you.” He growls, clearly frustrated with you now. 

He hooks his arms behind your body and lifts you again, taking you to the bathing room. There’s steam coming from the bathtub and your body aches for it. He sets you on a chair, his fingers moving to undo the buttons of your dress. You’re embarrassed, face heating more and more as his fingers lower on your back, exposing the corset beneath the bodice of the dress. 

“If you just get the corset undone, I think I can take it from here,” your voice feels small and weak. 

“I can help you to the tub,” he insists and you don’t feel like fighting. 

After the day you’ve had, there isn’t much fight left in you. 

You work on untangling the veil and pins from your hair as Atsumu unlaces the corset. His cold fingers brush your skin, and you begin to worry he’s freezing as well. Maybe you should let him bathe first… it is his home after all. 

“You should bathe and warm up first,” you turn your head over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of him as he pulls the last bit of the corset sting out. Your hands go up to catch the dress so you’re not exposed to him. 

“Don’t be foolish,” he shakes his head. “I’m fine.” 

“If you insist,” you give in, the warmth of the water sounding too good to fight him on. “Will you turn away?” 

He turns away, not looking as you slip out of the wedding dress, shoes, and undergarments. You’re able to wobble to the tub, holding onto its side as you step in and settle down into the hot water. The sigh you let out is necessary, and you sink into the water to your collarbones. 

“I think I can handle bathing myself for now,” you tell him and he nods. 

You watch as he leaves, taking in his looming figure. Letting yourself sink under the water, covering your entire body in warmth, you take in today's events. The town must be gossiping about how you’re just like your mother. Running off and ruining your reputation even further. 

Your father, your poor father. He must be a wreck missing you. Will he send people to search for you? 

The part of the woods you ran into is rarely foraged or hunted. The more you think about it, the more you begin to remember the old fairytales your friends would tell you about this forest. Stories of missing children, vampires, werewolves, and even fairies floating around the woods. Maybe you’ve stumbled into one of those legends that the town’s kids will tell others. The runaway bride and the handsome spooky suitor. 

You come up for air, laughing as you think about it all. 

“Oh dear,” you sigh to yourself, and then you feel the presence of someone else in the room. You sit up, pulling your knees to your chest, too fast. Your ankle shoots like pins and needles, making you cry out. 

Atsumu is kneeling by the tub instantly, and you try to conserve some modesty as he examines you in the tub. Your hands cover your cleavage, hoping your knees suffice for the remainder of your breasts, even with your ankle threatening to give out. 

“What is it? Is it your ankle?” He asks, eyes soft and focused on your face. 

You nod. “I think it’s broken.” You tell him, letting yourself stretch it out as you cover your breast with your hand. 

“May I?” He asks, his hand gesturing to your ankle. 

You nod. 

“Let’s see,” he dips his hand into the water, and you lay back, making it easier for him to lift your leg out of the water. 

His hands are cold on your skin, and you wonder how he deals with being this cool all the time. He feels around your ankle, and you notice it's slightly swollen. Your heels look torn up from the heels you wore, and you notice some of the water dripping from your heel is red. 

“Please be gentle,” you squeak, worried you’ll pester him. 

“I assure you,” he tells you smiling at you before his fingers begin to lightly feel out around your ankle. “I believe it’s just a sprain. No signs of a break.” He sets your foot gently back down into the tub. “Just some rest, ice, and a wrap will take care of it. I’ll see to your care while you’re here.” 

“What makes you think I’m staying here?” You shoot back, suddenly irritated. 

His eyes lock on yours, and that strange calmness settles over you again. Finally, you realize what that look in his eye is, it’s a hunger you’ve never seen. His whole body is tense, really, and you swear he swallows every time his eyes go to your throat. You swallow now, keeping your eyes on him and sitting back up in the tub, struggling to keep yourself covered. 

“C-can I have some of that soap?” You ask, looking at the rack behind him, loaded with different soaps and salts. “And a washrag?” 

He nods, turning his torso to grab a bar of lavender-colored soap and a rag from the shelf behind him. You realize as he holds it out, you have to uncover your breasts. Your heart pounds against your chest, your cheeks heat up, and your breath quickens. Some part of you wants him to look, wondering what he will say or do; but the years of your Governess teaching you that your body is only for your husband. 

But what does that matter now? You ran away from your fiance. You can’t go back nor do you want to. You move your hands from your breasts, taking the soap and rag from him, lathering it after dipping it in the water. 

“You have some cuts on your face, probably from the briars in the forest.” He says, not looking below your collarbone. “Would you allow me to treat them?” 

You nod and scrub the mud from your ankles and the dirt on your hands. Once you get to your heels, you realize the blisters have busted and could easily become infected. 

“You might need to treat my heels when you treat my ankle,” you say sheepishly. 

“Anything you need,” he tells you, gathering supplies at the medicine cabinet across the bathroom. 

You’re able to scrub yourself clean, even reaching out of the tub to grab a bottle of shampoo to scrub through your hair. You’re embarrassed by the amount of leaves you found. By the time Atsumu has returned to your side, you feel refreshed. 

“This may sting,” he tells you, before taking the white cloth and patting it gently to your forehead. 

He’s right it does sting. There must be half a dozen cuts on your face, you realize as he continues to clean the wounds. You didn’t notice it as you were running but with all the falling you did, it shouldn’t come as a surprise. 

“So, will you tell me what you were running from?” He asks finally, a few moments after cleaning the cut. He drops the cloth into the small bowl where he had the cleaning solution and puts it on the shelf behind him. 

He rests his elbows on the edge of the tub, cupping his face in his hands. When you look at him you can’t help but think how pretty he looks like this. 

“It’s a long story,” you say, sounding exasperated. 

“Trust me, I have all the time in the world.” He laughs like it’s an inside joke with himself. 

“I want to dry off before I give you the gossip of my tragic life.” You laugh, smiling at him. “Can I have a robe?” 

“Of course,” he leaves the bathroom, coming back with a red robe, holding it out for you. 

You stand, holding your weight on your left side and trying to balance and step out of the tub. As you step out, your foot catches on the tub and you begin to fall. Atsumu catches you, your wet naked body pressed against his. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes. It’'s embarrassing how many times you’ve fallen today, let alone the times he’s had to catch you. 

He swallows slowly, and you watch as his features change, his eyes darkening and jaw tensing. His arms tighten around you, pressing your breasts against him tighter. His face moves towards you, and your eyes go wide. 

His lips taste like iron but with a hint of sweetness. Your eyes flutter shut, and your lips move against his. You’ve never kissed anyone before, and now you see what all the girls giggle about behind their fans. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip and you part yours, letting him in. His fingertips dig into your skin. You grip his shoulders, steadying yourself on him. You break away first, gasping for air, unable to sustain yourself just on him. 

His eyes look even darker than before. He looks at you with that same hunger as earlier, and you feel something stir inside you that you’ve never felt before. What is this feeling? It’s like hunger but stronger and in your chest. Your heart is pounding so fast you worry it may explode. 

Is this desire? 

Atsumu clears his throat, “Let’s get those feet of yours treated.” He lifts you once more, carrying your wet body to the bedroom and laying you gently on the bed. “Stay here.” 

Like you’re equipped to run away from him after all this… 

He disappears down the hall for a few minutes, so you take your time examining the room around you. You had time before, but your mind was so foggy you wondered if there was anything you missed. Looking around, you see there are no mirrors in this room. That’s odd. 

“I found some bandages. They should help keep infection away,” Atsumu tells you as he walks into the bedroom. “Also, the cleansing solution will help. I’ll clean and change your wounds daily until they’re healed.” 

He sits on the bottom of the bed, taking your legs in his lap. 

“It may help if you lay on your stomach.” He smiles, looking at you. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” you roll around, laying on your stomach and propping yourself up with your elbows. 

You try to look over your shoulder, but the angle Atsumu sits at while cleaning and bandaging your heels and wrapping your right ankle so it doesn’t strain anymore. Once he’s done, you sit up, dangling your feet off the bed. 

“Can I get that robe now?” You ask, a laugh passing your lips. 

“Oh,” Atsumu blushes, and you smile. “Let me get that,” he goes to the bathroom, likely where he dropped it on the floor before catching you. “However, if I give you this robe…” he dangles it in front of you, just out of reach, “you have to tell me what happened to you.” 

You nod and he hands you the robe. You manage to stand just fine, slipping it on and tying it around you. With the wrap on your ankle, you find the throbbing has stopped and it’s fine to put some weight on it. Sitting back down, you let out a sigh. 

“So, I was supposed to get married today.” You tell him and he laughs. “What’s so funny?” 

“I find you in a wedding dress, clearly distraught, and that’s not obvious?” He sits down on the bed with you, crossing his legs and resting his arms on them. His hands fold into each other and his focus seems entirely on you. 

“Well,” you laugh, “you’re right.” Then, you get into the nitty-gritty. 

The engagement and how it came about due to your family reputation. Then the ex whore who sat front row at your wedding. Then the decision to run because of Graham and his terrible personality. All of it comes flooding out, and you don’t know when but at one point you start crying. 

“And my poor father,” you sob, “he must be so confused and worried and cross with me.” 

Atsumu flexes his hand like he wants to reach out to you, but something makes him stop. You look down at your own hands, in your lap, nails biting into the skin. Sometime during the retelling of your miserable day and engagement, you began squeezing them into fists. 

“I’m sure he would understand if you told him all this,” Atsumu says, his voice soft. “I can arrange for someone to take you back in the morning if you’re worried about him.” 

That’s the last thing you want. 

“Or not, it’s up to you.” He relents, probably reading the look on your face. “You can stay with me as long as you want.” He laughs, gesturing with his hand around the room. “I clearly have more than enough room.” 

“I don’t know how to thank you, truly.” You wrap your arms around your body, a chill running through you. “I’m in your debt.” 

Atsumu leans forward, and you wonder if he’s going to kiss you again. “You don’t have to thank me,” he touches your face softly, his skin still cold against yours. 

You yawn and realize you need to rest, seriously rest… perhaps for a week. “Where am I sleeping tonight?” 

His hand drops from your face and you swear you see a flash of disappointment on his face. “I have a room down the hall for you. I started a fire in there when you were bathing, so it should be warm by now.” 

“Th-” 

“You don’t need to thank me.” He interrupts, standing and holding his arm out for you to take. “Let's see if you can handle walking that far.” 

You hook your arm with his, knowing you’ll need him to support your right side. He walks slowly, staying at your pace as you limp down the hall to the room he points out. It’s only a few yards away from his bedroom. The fire is roaring in the fireplace, illuminating and warming the room. He helps you onto the four-poster bed, covering you in the thick blankets. 

“If you need anything, just call for me. I’ll leave the door open so I can hear you.” Atsumu smiles, his face warm and full of something you’re unsure of. 

Quite frankly, you’re unsure of a lot today. 

You thank him several more times, and he accepts them all with grace. He leaves the room after some time and you’re left staring up at the ceiling, wondering what tomorrow will bring. After the chaos of today, you’re sure it can’t be any worse. 

–

You awake and it’s not quite dawn out. Your ankle no longer feels like it’s throbbing, so you swing your legs off the bed and stand, unbalanced at first but after a few steps you’re fine to walk on your own. You grab a chamberstick and light it with the matches you find in a drawer near the fireplace. 

The hallway is dark, as you expected, but not too chilly. You walk down the long hallway until you come to the top of the stairs where Atsumu carried you in. You go past them to the other wing of the castle, which is much darker. No rooms have any glow coming from them and you wonder why. At the end of the hall, two grand doors are open and a faint fire is illuminating it. 

You hold out your candle, lighting the entrance, and realize it’s a library. Fumbling around you find the switch to turn on the lights, illuminating the room. The walls are lined with hundreds, no… thousands of books. The western part of the room goes back deeper than you could have imagined, with lines and lines of shelves holding books of all shapes and colors. 

The room is daunting, to say the least. 

There are several tables spread out, mostly clean with a book or two, but a desk catches your eye. Against the far wall in front of a row of windows, a long mahogany desk sits with stacks of books and several opened and tabbed in multiple places from what you can see. You approach the desk, interested to find out what Atsumu has deemed so interesting himself. 

The largest book is about 800 pages thick you’d guess, if not longer. It looks old, the ends of the pages frayed and yellowing. Looking at its contents you see there’s a language you can’t quite read, old English or German you presume by the looks of it. After carefully marking the page with a blank sheet of paper, you flip to another bookmark. 

This page is in English, listing names and dates of birth and death. You scan the names, none you recognize of course. The name Lestar is similar to your mother’s family name, Lesair.  However, something is strange about the dates… they’re too far apart. Many of them say they’re well into their third century of life before they die, some more than that. This can’t be right. Is this a fictional novel with a family tree given for context? 

You turn the page, showing a family tree with portraits of each of the names. They’re all eerily beautiful, the men and women. This family was surely blessed. The family tree continues into the next few pages until it abruptly stops in the late 1790s. A small asterisk with a note reading: 

Lost to history is the remainder of the bloodline that carried the sun's blessing. 

What could that mean? 

You shake your head, too tired to try and play games with a book. You flip back to the page it was left open on, placing the blank sheet of paper back in its stack. Turning your attention to the book to its right you see it has a family name on its spine, the same family name as the characters in the book you were flipping through. 

Opening the page, it looks to be biographies of each character. What dedication must an author have to write that out for each character in their stories? It’s something you can’t imagine plotting out, but you admire it. Placing it back down, you look to the left. Another stack of books, the one on top opened to the middle of the book. 

You sit on the chair, take the book, and mark the page with that same blank paper, turning to the first page. 

It is not known when we first awoke, but what is known is that we are not some fairytale come to life. The reign of Vampires ended in the early 1300s, but we still persist and exist in the far corners of the world. Tucked away we may be, the bloodlines of those still around are strong. 

You laugh. Atsumu is into Vampire lore? 

The page continues to give a brief history of vampire beginnings and how their bloodlines decreased as centuries passed. None of this was allowed in your schools or at home with your family. Anything that mentioned the unholy was strictly burned or taken by the church. 

After a few chapters, you place the book back, making a mental note to remember you’re at chapter 4 if you decide to come back to it. After you’re certain you’ve left everything exactly how you found it, you leave the library, turning the lights off as you go. 

The candle lights your way back down the hall and down the steps, following the trail of light to the right wing of the castle once again, this time just on the lower level. You pass what looks to be a kitchen, and then you enter a dark room that gives you chills as you step inside. With no light switch, you struggle down a few stone steps further into what reminds you of a dungeon or jail. 

“Water, please,” a hoarse voice chokes out and you jump back, managing to not scream. 

You shakily turn your candle towards the voice, finding a frail man in a jail cell, his arm reaching out towards you. The scene is horrific. He looks to be your age, but something about him seems older. Perhaps being jailed will do that to a person. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t have water.” You tell him, kneeling down in front of him. 

His jail cell is disgusting; it takes everything in you not to gag as the smell lingers. 

“The key, it’s back on the wall by the door. Please let me out.” 

A chill washes over your body. Suddenly, you remember that Atsumu was burying a body when you ran into him. Now, you're finding he has someone captured in this cell. Who is he and why is he doing these things? 

“Why are you here? Why did Atsumu do this?” You ask, a flood of different emotions racing through you. 

“He’s psychotic,” the man hisses, rage seeping through his tone. “Please, madam, I’m begging you to set me free. Hurry before he finds out you’re here.” 

You stand up, going to search for the key. Maybe this man will help lead you back to town to your father. Then perhaps your father will take you back in and help you fix the life you’ve screwed up. After finding the key, you unlock the jail cell. 

“Can you help me find-” before you finish your sentence, the man has pushed you to the ground. 

The candle you were holding falls to the side, illuminating only his face. His eyes are glowing red and wild. You scream, but the man covers your mouth with his hand. 

“Stupid girl, I’m surprised Atsumu hasn’t already taken a bite out of you.” As he talks you notice his canines are strangely long and pointed. 

Your eyes widen and you realize that this isn’t a normal man. His strength, despite looking frail, is abnormal. His eyes, his teeth, his strength… he can’t be. 

Vampires aren’t real. 

They’re not real. 

They’re not. 

“Get. Off. Her.” The sound of Atsumu’s voice burns your ears. 

The man looks up from you and his eyes narrow as he hisses Atsumu’s name. He jumps off of you and towards the sound of Atsumu’s voice. You scurry to the corner towards the candle, grabbing it and holding it towards the sound of fighting. 

As the light illuminates the two male figures, you see Atsumu snap the man’s neck. The body falls to the ground while the head remains in Atsumu’s hands. He drops the head when he sees you looking at him, horror clear on your face. 

“-----,” your name rings off his lips. 

“No!” You scoot back further into the corner, your back hitting the wall. “Don’t come near me!” 

He doesn’t listen. 

“Please, let me explain.” Atsumu is in front of you, kneeling in front of you and holding his hand out to you. “I’m begging you to hear me out.” 

You don’t feel inclined to grab his hand this time, the feeling of urgency still racing through your body. When Atsumu had scared you, you almost felt compelled to relax and not think about what you’d witnessed. Now, everything feels clear. 

“I want to know what is going on now!” You yell at him and smack his hand away from you. “How did you rip that man's head off? Why did you have him in that jail cell?” 

Atsumu stands, turning away from you and walking a few steps away. “If you come with me, I’ll answer any questions you have.” 

You watch as he goes, stepping over the body by the door and down the hall. After a few shaky breaths, you stand up and walk to the door leading to the hallway. You have to step over the body of the man and around the severed head. When you get in the hallway, you see Atsumu going further down into the foyer of the house. 

Following him, he takes you down the only hall you haven’t explored. The room he walks into appears to be a large kitchen from the hall. You take a few moments to collect your thoughts before walking in. When you enter the room, a wave of warmth hits you from the brick oven on the wall. It seems to have been firing all night. 

“Do you like tea?” He asks and you nod. 

“With honey.” You sit at the counter where a long bench is under the overhang. 

After a few minutes, he sets a white teacup with dark tea steeping in the cup. You let it sit for a few more, Atsumu pacing to your left by shelves full of different herbs and teas from what you can tell.

“Are you going to answer my questions?” You finally ask after taking a sip of your tea. 

“That man you saw me kill, was a despicable being. He’d killed at least a dozen girls in London in ways you could not begin to fathom.” Atsumu turns to you, his eyes dark. “I was planning on letting him starve to death down there and you ruined it.” 

“What was he? His eyes were glowing red and his strength was… inhuman.” You tell him. “His teeth were sharp like a…” you don’t finish the sentence. 

“Say it.”  

“No.” 

“Say it, —--.” 

“A vampire.” 

He nods and your world feels like it’s been turned upside down. 

“It’s okay, you’re safe.” He assures you but you smack his hand away again. 

“Don’t touch me.” You tell him, reeling away from his touch. 

“I’m sorry.” He steps back, his face falling. 

“So those books in your library… they’re not fiction.” He nods. “What are you?” 

“You know.” He says, turning away and looking out the window into the dark sky towards the moon. 

“Fuck,” for the first time in your life, you feel like you’re never going to come back from this. 

Even after running away from your wedding. That could have been solved, fixed even. This? Will Atsumu even allow you to leave now that you know what he is? It’s terrifying to think you grew up not far from this immortal being, lurking in the woods you played in as a child with friends. 

However, when you think about it, no one ever went missing in the village. No one was ever found suspiciously dead. 

“I know what you’re thinking.” He says and you narrow your eyes. 

“Can you read my mind too?” 

“What?” His face contours in confusion. “I can’t read minds and what do you mean by too?” 

You sigh in relief and lean forward, elbows on the counter. “You have some sort of relaxation power, don’t you? It’s the only reason I didn't freak out after I saw you burying that body… I wanted to run away and scream but I felt compelled to trust you and calm down. That’s not natural. I shouldn’t have conveniently forgotten about the body until now either.” 

Atsumu sits across from you, his eyes watching you. Those golden brown eyes are mesmerizing in every way and something about the golden hue is also unnatural. Everything about him is, you suppose. After all, he isn’t a creature of God’s making but perhaps the devil. 

“I do have the power to compel people to my will, that is what you’ve felt.” He admits, his posture stiffening. “I’m sorry for using it on you, but I couldn’t have you running off in that panicked state blabbering about what you saw in the woods. The best case scenario is the town comes looking for me, the worst case is you end up in an asylum. I was burying the body of another vampire who I’d imprisoned for similar crimes to the man who attacked you earlier. I don’t harm humans when I can help it.” 

“When you can help it?” 

“I do have to feed,” he tells you, “but I try not to kill or turn them when I do it.” 

You nod, taking another sip of your tea. “Are you planning on doing that to me?” 

He grins, actually grins, then says, “Only if you want me to.” 

Something in your stomach flutters and you’re scared of this side of yourself. Why do you have the inclination to let him? 

“Something wrong?” He asks, that same grin on his stupid face. “Did that intrigue you?” 

You shake your head no. 

“Liar.” He stands up, taking your empty tea cup and placing it in the sink. “It can be pleasurable,” he says, running water over the cup. “Some people volunteer for the satisfaction of it all.” 

Your face burns now, looking down at the counter and your hands turning into fists. Why would he be flirting with you after all of this? You move your hands to your lap, relaxing them and rubbing your thighs through your nightgown. Atsumu turns the water off and you look up as he dries the teacup with a towel, placing it back on the shelf it came from. 

“I have a proposal.” He says, turning back to face you. You tilt your head in curiosity. “We no longer lie to one another. Even if it’s hard, we tell the truth. I suppose you don’t want to go back home after running away and I clearly would rather you stay here and keep my secret.” 

You nod. “I agree to the terms, but I still have questions.” 

“I would assume you have many. It would be strange if you didn’t.” 

“What were you studying in the library? I read some pages from a few of the books, thinking they were fictional and now I’m more confused than ever.” 

“Come with me. I’ll show you.” He offers his hand, and you hesitate. “Honesty, we promised.” 

“I didn’t promise, I agreed to the terms.” You correct him, placing your hand in his. 

He leads you out of the kitchen and down the hall further. “There are steps on either end of the halls as well, just so you know. That way you’re not running back and forth to get to the main staircase.” He leads you up a less ornate staircase, leading right into the dark library. Atsumu releases your hand and steps away, the lights illuminating the room a few moments later. 

You walk over to his desk by the windows, noticing the drapes are not shut. Why did they close? Ah, it will be morning soon. Opening the largest book on the center of the desk you flip to the page with the asterisk you remember. 

Lost to history is the remainder of the bloodline that carried the sun's blessing. 

You read the line aloud, looking at Atsumu. “What does this mean? Who are these people?” 

Atsumu lounges in his desk chair before answering. “The sun’s blessing means that these vampires were able to be out in the sun, living more normal lives than most of us. It’s unknown why they had the ability to withstand the star’s light, but they could.” 

“They live among us?” 

“They did before they went missing. One morning they were in their familial homes, and the next vanished as if into thin air.” He sighs. “I want to know what happened to them. It doesn’t make sense for them to uproot their lives without reason. They were a secretive clan amongst us, but there are theories.” 

He gets up, as if excited, walking quickly to a shelf across the room. He takes a few moments, scanning the spines of books before grabbing an emerald green book and bringing it to the desk. When you see it, it also has several tabs on it. 

“You see, there are stories of other vampires inheriting this ability as if the family gifted it to them. There’s no record of how it happens, but there has to be a way.” He turns to a page about a third of the way into the book, full of notes in the margins. “Here this author theorizes it was from something they ingested, but we can’t stomach the food humans eat, so it could have been an herb of some sort in a tea.” 

“You can drink tea?” You ask, taken aback.

“Of course,” he laughs. “It’s why I keep so many.” He opens to another page. He smiles as he reads some of the lines and you lean on his desk. “Here the author suggests that they blood let and shared it with the vampires who inherited the gift.” 

“Did they ingest it?” You ask and Atsumu shrugs. 

“It’s against our laws to feed from another vampire, so I wouldn’t think so. But, that is a possibility. They could have injected it into themselves, but even that seems too close to feeding.” Atsumu closes the book and takes it back to the shelf it came from. 

“Why are you so obsessed with them?” You ask, looking at the portraits and names once more. 

Charlotta Lestar died in 1767, 343 years after her birth by your calculations. Her child, a son named James, seems to still be living. There’s no death date for him and a few others, but that could just be unknown since they all disappeared. You flip to the next page and it begins to give the family history, starting with the first recorded Lestar family member. 

“Did you know any of them?” You ask when he doesn’t answer your last question. 

He nods and sits back in his chair. “Our families were friends. I knew Charlotta’s children well.” 

“How old are you?” You ask, partly scared to hear the answer. 

“213, respectfully. You?” 

“24,” you answer, feeling ashamed. All of your friends had married by 20 and you were here, still unwed and slowly turning into an old maid. 

“A drop in time to me,” he smiles, taking your hand and squeezing it. 

“You never told me why you were looking into the family,” you remind him. 

He sighs, then rolls up the long sleeves of his shirt. Starting at his wrists and all the way up to his elbows, you notice small white patches, almost like scars. “I’ve been testing my methods with the sun. When I was a child I tried to follow James out one morning and nearly died. I have these marks all over my body.” He looks up to you and there’s something like desperation in his eyes. 

“My work would be so much easier if I could go out during the day. Having to hunt and feed at night makes things harder. I can research during the day just fine, but being confined to this home drives me mad.” He continues. 

“Being trapped at home is something of a nightmare,” you agree. “Can I help? I love reading and maybe some fresh eyes on the material would help you.” 

“You’d want to do that?” He asks and you nod. He smiles and jumps up from his chair again. “You need to start with the histories, first. I know it’s here somewhere,” he scans a shelf by his desk. “Ah, yes, here it is.” The book he hands you looks to be recently rebounded. The pages are much older than the bindings. 

“I’ll read it today.” You open the cover and look at the author, noting the name Osamu Miya, relation of Atsumu’s perhaps. “Do you rest during the day?” 

“I don’t need sleep like humans.” He tells you. “I do rest, but it’s mostly to keep from having to feed too often I usually spend my days in here. The human staff I have take care of the house during the day and believe me to be one of you. I beg of you not to make them think otherwise.” 

“My lips are sealed.” 

Atsumu nods quickly with a smile, “Thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a friend.” 

– 

The next few weeks are full of studying, time passing quickly. Atsumu has his staff fill the kitchen with food and your dressing room with clothing. All your needs are met, but something else is pulling at you. The days you spend reading in the library with Atsumu become your reason for waking up. 

You rarely think about Graham or your father. Whatever they have been doing seems to not concern you, since no one has come knocking at the castle doors. Perhaps they’ve forgotten about you, something that stings but isn’t all that bad. You hope they’ve found happiness in the way you have. 

Atsumu even begins to let you in on what he does during the nights when he disappears from the castle. He’s been charged with capturing vampires who are gluttonous or vile in their killings. There are no laws about killing within their society, but they don’t like to draw attention to themselves. Atsumu handles the situations where some are. However, he stops keeping prisoners in his home. 

He educates you on the histories of vampires, the different covens, clans, and even families within them. After a month you are pretty sure you’re a walking history book, but you’ve learned nothing about the Lestar family. One afternoon, you decide to ask about them. 

“When will I begin helping you with the Lestar family?” You ask, putting the last book you finished on the shelf. 

Atsumu looks up from his writing, his hair disheveled. “Do you feel like you know enough about my kind to begin?” 

You sit across from him at the table he’s been at since last night. “I believe I am. Quiz me!” 

“Question one, what do we eat?” he grins as he asks. 

“Shut up, ask me something serious.” You laugh, your foot rubbing against his leg as you swing your feet under the table. 

He grins at you and you pull away, mouthing a sorry to him. It’s not like you haven’t touched Atsumu before, after all, the kiss you shared was the most intimate thing you’ve experienced in your short life. 

“Where should I start now?” You ask, eager to read about the family of vampires who lived among humans and walked in the sun. 

“Any of the books I have on them are just fine places to start. However, if you want theories, you can read this one here,” he slides the same emerald green book from that first night in the library. “My brother wrote this, actually.” 

You open the cover and see a familiar name, “Osamu Miya?” Atsumu nods. “I guess it seems you’re not the only one obsessed.” 

“We all grew up together, it’s not that surprising, is it?” He laughs, resting his head on his hand. “Osamu is just better at writing than me. I send him everything I come up with and he does the same.” 

“I’d like to meet him one day,” you decide. 

“We’ll see about that.” He goes back to reading his book and you begin yours. 

The theories his brother presents on the family are numerous, but nothing is conclusive. Everything about the family was kept so secretive that even family friends had no idea how they were able to be in the sun without being killed. The trait was passed down to family members by birth, no matter which parent had the trait. 

The only vampires granted the power were those who married into the family, and most of them seemed to be random. The reasoning behind the partnerships isn’t love, power, or money. Whatever their deciding factor was, is still as unclear as the transformation itself. 

By the time you’re through the book, it’s evening. You yawn and your stomach growls. Despite the snacks the staff brought you throughout the day, you’re starving. 

“Would it be weird if you joined me for dinner? I know you can’t eat, but it gets lonely in the dining room.” It feels awkward asking, but after a month of silent dinners, you’re not sure you can stand another. 

“I’d love to join you. I’ll have tea while you eat.” He smiles, standing from his chair. His clothes are as disheveled as his hair. “If you’ve been lonely, why didn’t you ask me sooner?” 

You shrug, “I didn’t want to bother you more than I already have.” 

Atsumu halts walking, stopping atop the stairs. “You’ve never been a bother to me,” he takes your hand. “I’ve been delighted to have you in my home.” 

Your face heats up and you bite your bottom lip to keep the smile from growing too wide. “I’ve had a better time with you than I’ve had in the last ten years of my life.” 

Atsumu steps closer to you, his hand caressing your cheek. You look up at him, lips slightly parted, but you’re unable to speak. 

“I hope you know what you mean to me.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and your stomach flutters. 

You grab his waist, pulling his body closer to yours. “Atsumu,” you whine. 

“What is it?” He asks, his lips grazing your forehead. You whine again. “You have to tell me what you want.” 

“Kiss me,” you say after a few moments. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” he kisses you quickly, his lips moving against yours with a hunger you’ve never experienced. 

His lips taste sweet now, but the tinge of iron is still there. You wonder when the last time he fed was, a pang of jealousy washing through you. Your fingers grip him tightly, your body flush with his. His tongue teases your lips and you part your mouth, letting him in. 

He pulls away, resting his forehead on yours, eyes on your lips. “I want to show you so many things,” he whispers. “Will you let me?” 

You nod. 

“I want you to say it.” 

“Please, show me everything.” 

Atsumu grins, picking you up in his arms, your gown riding up around your thighs as you hook your legs around him. You kiss him again, biting his bottom lip and making him growl. Before you know it, he’s slamming his bedroom door shut and dropping you down on his bed. 

“What do you want me to do?” He asks, crawling on the bed on top of you. 

“Touch me,” you breathe out. 

“Have you ever?” 

You shake your head no and something flashes in his eyes. 

He leans down, kissing you and sliding your dress up your thighs. “You can tell me to stop whenever you want,” he whispers, kissing down your throat. 

Your heart races, knowing how easily he could drain you of your blood now is something you never expected to worry about. Each nip of his teeth at your skin reminds you of it. You begin to feel too hot, desperate for him to rip this godforsaken gown off of you. 

“Get this dress off of me,” you beg, writhing under Atsumu. 

He sits up, his eyes wild. He pulls you up into a sitting position before flipping you onto your stomach to undo the many buttons down your back. You feel the cooler air hit your skin and whimper as Atsumu’s fingers drag down your skin. Undressing in this gown isn’t easy but his hands on you is worth it. 

By the time you’re left in the slip you wore under the dress, you’re desperate to feel his kisses again. He smiles at you, standing by the bed and looking you up and down. Your cheeks heat and you want to cover yourself, but remember the first night you met him he saw every part of you anyway. 

His hands grip your thighs, pulling you down to the edge of the bed. He kneels in front of the bed, licking his lips once before kissing your inner thigh. You gasp at the sensation, chills running up your spine and curling your toes. You sit up on your elbows, watching him kiss up your right thigh, pushing the slip up over your waist. 

He looks at you as if he’s looking for permission and you nod. 

The first touch of his tongue on your cunt is overwhelming. His tongue continues to move on you, his hands gripping your thighs while he laps at you. You moan, unable to keep any form of composure. Your fingers dig into the sheets as his tongue teases your clit. You fall back, unable to watch any longer, wanting to focus solely on the feeling. 

He stops for a moment and your eyes flutter open, seeing him suck on his own middle finger. He grins as he sees you watching him. He slowly teases your entrance with the finger, leaning back down to suck on your clit. You close your eyes again, whimpering and bucking your hips. As his finger presses into you, you still, take in the sensation. Your mouth falls open and you breathe out. 

“Shh,” Atsumu hushes you as you begin to whimper. “It’ll start feeling good and not foreign, I swear.” 

He slowly pumps his finger out of you and back in, curling it inside you as he goes. He was so right, oh so right. You moan, the feeling sending shockwaves through you. When you open your eyes, Atsumu is hovering over you, his finger still pumping inside you. 

“See,” he grins, “feels good, right?” 

You nod between moans and reach for Atsumu above you. He leans down, kissing your lips and teasing you with his tongue. He tastes like you, his lips coated with your arousal. 

“Do you want more?” He asks and you nod. “When will you learn to use your words?” 

“More, please,” you whine, looking up expecting to see his brown eyes but they’ve been replaced with the glowing gold you’ve only seen when he’s been hungry. 

Your stomach flips and the fear you feel is nothing compared to the pleasure of his second finger pumping into you with the first. He stretches you, his fingers working in tandem to bring you feelings you can’t explain, leaving you breathless. Something in your stomach snaps and you feel yourself coming to an end, ready to let go. 

“Cum for me,” he whispers against your ear, his breath tickling you. 

As you climax, you grip onto Atsumu, holding his hand on your right and his arm on your left. It’s unlike any pleasure release you’ve ever had. What you used to do desperately at night at home with your fingers is nothing compared to this. He chuckles as you come down, looking at him with glossy eyes. He kisses your forehead, praising you with quiet words and pulling his fingers out of you. 

“Lay back,” you demand, sitting up and pushing against his pillows. 

He looks pleasantly surprised, your abruptness is not something he was expecting. He lays down against the pillows, spreading his arms and parting his legs enough for you to crawl between them. You smile at him before pushing them back together and sitting on his lap, your cunt sensitive against his trousers. 

His arms wrap around you and you kiss him, holding his face between your hands. “I want to learn to please you too,” you tell him. 

He smiles, biting his bottom lip before speaking. “What do you think you should do?” 

You take in a shaky breath, remembering some erotic scenes from some books stashed in the back of his library that you snuck into your room. “I think I know,” you admit, “but I want you to tell me what you need.” 

“You. You’re all I need.” 

The feeling pangs at your heart but you refuse to give in to it and name it. 

You kiss him feverishly before unbuttoning his shirt, kissing his neck, and working your way down his body. He was right, he’s covered in these white splotches. They scar most of his skin, all the way down to his waist. Settling between his legs, you unbutton the three buttons on his pants, noticing the tenting as you go. 

He holds his bottom lip between his teeth as he watches you, his chest noticeably moving as he breathes. He lifts his hips and you shimmy the pants down over his waist and off his legs, tossing them on the floor to your right. His underwear is tight, the bulge prominent now. 

“Why do you look so nervous?” He teases, so you stick your tongue out at him. “I bet that would feel nice on my cock,” he tells you, leaning forward and grabbing your face. “Don’t you want a taste?” 

You nod, kissing him again before pushing his chest back so he lays back against the pillows once more. He tenses as you feel his cock through his underwear. He closes his eyes and titls his head back, enjoying your touch. 

Reaching up with your other hand, pulling at the waistband and pulling them down over his hips. Reading about something for the first time is nothing like seeing it for the first time. Everything about Atsumu is infuriatingly beautiful, and his cock is no exception. You take it in your hand and timidly stroke it once. 

“Fuck,” Atsumu moans, his eyes still closed and head tilted back. 

You smile at his response and lean down, taking the head of his cock in your mouth. He moans louder as your tongue swirls around the tip. 

“Just like that,” he whimpers. “Use your hand like this,” he opens his eyes and places his hand over yours; showing you what to do. 

Your hand gets wet from your spit dribbling down from where your lips meet his cock, making it easier to stroke him. He lets go of your hand and you’re able to learn on your own now. Every sound Atsumu makes encourages you further. Soon enough you’re able to take more than half his length in your mouth without worrying you’re going to hurt him by doing something wrong. 

He thrusts up into your mouth, forcing you to take him all in and you choke, pulling away and coughing. 

“I’m so sorry, I just lost control,” he sits up cupping your cheeks. 

He kisses your lips, pulling away and a trail of drool follows, still connecting your lips. You grin and break it with your finger. 

“You don’t have to be sorry, I’m okay. You can’t break me.” 

He chuckles, “If only that were true, darling.” 

You giggle, kissing him again and climbing on top of him, straddling his thighs. He grabs your hips, pulling you further up his body, pushing your hips down so your cunt grinds against his cock. You whimper against his lips, feeling his length against you. The tip of his cock prods at your entrance and you break away from the kiss. 

“Do you want to stop?” He asks looking up at you. 

“No, God no.” You shake your head. “I-” you stutter, stopping yourself. 

He sits up closer to you, your bodies flush with each other. “You can tell me,” he says. 

“I want you.” 

His eyes flash with something you can’t read, disappointment maybe? No, it couldn’t be that, could it? You’re saying exactly what he wants to hear even if it's not what you thought originally. He couldn’t know that, though. 

“It’s going to hurt at first,” he warns you and you nod. “Go at your own pace,” he kisses your cheek, laying back and letting you take control. 

You sink down on him about an inch, letting yourself get used to the stretch. His cock feels so much bigger in your cunt than when it was in your mouth. You bite down hard on your lip, holding in the sounds of discomfort as you sink further down on him. 

“Don’t do that you’ll bleed,” Atsumu’s thumb pulls your lip from your teeth. 

“I’m sorry,” you whimper and sink as far down as you can, sitting in Atsumu’s lap and taking him in entirely. 

“Don’t ever,” he rasps, “apologize while taking my cock in you like that.” 

His hands move to your hips, his fingers digging into your ass. You use your knees to rise up again, feeling his cock drag against the walls inside of you. It doesn’t feel as good as his fingers, the pain overwhelming you. 

“It’s okay,” he hushes your cries. “Go at your pace.” 

You try again, sinking down, rising up, and sinking down again. You’re used to the feeling now and even begin to feel good as his cock reaches further inside of you than his fingers. You let out a moan the fifth time you came down on him, finally feeling what you felt before. 

“There you go,” he encourages you, using his hands to help you ride him. 

He pulls you down by your face, kissing you and beginning to thrust up into you slowly. Your thighs shake but you hold onto Atsumu’s shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.  That familiar feeling from before creeps up on you, and you whimper, clenching around him. 

He flips you onto your back, pulling out of you and smiling at you wildly. “You can’t cum yet.” 

You nod, sitting up and kissing him and pulling him down with you, desperate to have him in you again. He pulls away and grins. 

“Are you greedy already? I told you I wanted to show you many things.” He teases, his fingers playing with your clit. 

You gasp, “We have other nights for that. I need you now.” 

He laughs, moving closer to you and spreading your legs wider. He pushes into you, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. The sounds that leave your mouth ring in your ears, but you try focusing on Atsumu’s cues. His eyes focus on you when you open yours, and that feeling in your stomach builds back up. 

“Tsumu,” you whine, slurring his name. 

“That’s music to my ears,” he moans. “Need to cum darling?” 

You nod. “Wanna cum.” 

“Cum with me,” he whispers against your lips and you do. 

It feels like waves across your body, the first strong and fierce. The second ringing through your body and lingering as Atsumu cums inside of you. You hold onto Atsumu as if he’s your lifeline, both of you breathing hard and heavy. 

He kisses your forehead before rolling to the side of the bed and pulling you close to him. You cuddle up to him, taking in the last hour. He stares up at the ceiling, his breath evening out sooner than yours. You tilt your head up looking closer at his expression. 

“What are you thinking about?” You ask. 

“Honestly?” 

“We promised to be truthful.” 

He smiles. “I’m thinking about how many more rounds I could take you before you’re too sore for more.” 

You smack his chest and sit up. “I think we’ve reached that limit.” 

He grins, sitting up on his elbows. “I guarantee you’ll be begging me for more before you even finish your dinner tonight.” 

“You’re awfully full of yourself,” you giggle, pulling your knees to your chest. 

“You’re also full of me,” he grins, kissing your temple and getting off the bed. “Come, bathe with me. Then I’ll make you dinner.” 

“You’ll make me dinner?” 

“I can read a recipe book and figure it out. Besides, there’s probably something edible in case I ruin everything.” 

You laugh, taking his hand and following him to the bathroom. 

The bath is always relaxing, but a bath with Atsumu is anything but. He’s constantly dumping water on you and splashing you like a child. The few moments when he relaxes and lets you lay against his chest, you relish. 

At some point, you fall asleep in the tub against Atsumu. You awake in his bed, under the cover of his thick duvet. Atsumu is nowhere to be found, so you find a shirt of his from a drawer and slip it on. Walking down the hall, you see a faint light coming from the wing where the kitchen is.

“-----,” your name on his lips sends chills down your spine. “I think I’ve made you a sandwich.” 

He presents in front of you something that does resemble a sandwich, but the ingredients are questionable. You still take a bite and swallow it. It isn’t the worst thing you’ve ever had. Your father hired a terrible cook for a few weeks before you insisted on getting a new one after a bout of food poisoning. 

“How is it?” 

“Honestly?” 

He nods. 

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever had,” you laugh, putting the half down on the plate. “We should stick to what your staff prepares.” 

He looks defeated but grins anyway. “You should go back to bed. I’ll have a big breakfast sent to our room in the morning.” 

“Our room?” You smile, biting your bottom lip. 

He nods. “I’ll join you after I clean up. I’ll take tonight off.” 

You smile at him before heading back towards his room. Most nights he spends them hunting down other vampires who’ve committed crimes. His determination and commitment to his task are unlike most of the men you’ve known. 

Atsumu’s room is warm from the fire, but the flames are starting to die down. You throw a log on the fire and crawl back into bed. Atsumu keeps his promise, coming to lay in bed with you soon after. You talk about your life with him, telling him everything you’ve been holding onto. He offers nothing but a listening ear, just what you like. 

–

The weeks that follow are much the same as the ones before, except your nights are full of more and more learning. Atsumu pleases you in ways you’ve never imagined possible with his fingers, tongue, and cock. However, you begin to become concerned with how often his eyes seem to turn golden with hunger. 

“Tsumu?” You chime one night after a long session with him between your legs. 

“Hmm?” He hums. 

“When was the last time you fed?” You ask, sitting up on the bed and playing with his hair from where he lays in your lap. 

“It’s been a while.” He answers, looking up at you, his eyes now golden once again. “I probably should tonight.” 

“Who do you feed from?” The jealousy is in your voice. 

“There are some people who volunteer for the pleasure of it. I think I told you this before. In London, there’s a home where my kind likes to go when we’re hungry.” Atsumu’s honesty doesn’t do anything to curb your feelings. 

“I don’t want you to go there,” you tell him, keeping up with the honesty you swore to keep. “Use me,” you offer. 

“-----, are you sure?” He asks, and you nod. 

You pull your hair from your neck, revealing the supple skin. 

Atsumu laughs, “I could kill you feeding from there.” 

Your face heats in embarrassment. “Where do you feed from?” 

He sits up, taking your arm and pointing to your wrist. “Lay back, it will hurt at first.” 

You lay back, looking up at the ceiling and then at Atsumu. He smiles at you as he hovers over your body. His lips press against yours and he mumbles some reassuring words. He slowly brings your wrist up to his mouth, and you see the flash of his fangs before they seep into your skin. 

Crying out, you instinctively pull away but Atsumu keeps your arm still. The pain turns to an unimaginable wave of pleasure, not unlike the way he makes you cum every night. You moan, actually moan after a minute of it. The burning is intense, but not unmanageable. After another minute, he pulls away from your wrist, blood dripping from his lips. 

When you look in his eyes, something has changed, and not just the color of them. He moves off of you, walking quickly to the bathroom. You sit up, checking your wrist and admiring the two small red puncture wounds. He tosses you a bandage from the bathroom entryway. 

Something is wrong. 

“Atsumu?” You lay the bandage down and get off the bed, your head spinning as you do. 

“Please, lay back down.” He moves to catch you, but you fall back onto the bed. 

“What’s wrong?” He shakes his head at your voice. 

“I have something I have to do.” He rushes out of the room and you don’t see him for the rest of the night. 

Sleep doesn’t come. You stay up all night, worried that you did something to change his feelings for you. Did you taste bad? 

Can blood taste bad? 

You pace for a while in front of his windows, waiting for dawn to come. As the first spots of daylight begin to show you see Atsumu enter the castle. You rush down the hall and down the steps. 

When he sees you, there’s not a glimpse of joy on his face. 

“Ats-” 

“I think you should go back to your father.” He interrupts you and you feel like the castle is crumbling in on you. 

“But… Atsumu… why?” 

“I think it's for the best. I’ve called for a carriage. You leave in an hour.” He rushes up the stairs and towards the library.

The sound of the doors slamming shut echoes through the castle as you fall to your knees. You’re not sure how long you lie there, perhaps for the full hour. You can’t even cry it hurts so bad. He’s betrayed the honesty you promised to one another. 

“Madam, the carriage is waiting for you,” Arthur, Atsumu’s butler, taps on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I must ask that you go.” 

You nod, pulling yourself together and walking to the carriage. You’re numb the whole ride home. It takes about an hour for you to arrive at the doorstep of your father’s estate. When you step off the carriage, your father isn’t there to greet you, but instead it’s Graham. 

You step back, nearly tripping over the carriage steps. 

“Where on earth have you been?” The sound of his voice makes you want to vomit. 

“Where is my father?” You ask, stepping towards him, but keeping more than enough distance between him. 

“He’s in London, searching for you. I’ve been maintaining the family home while you’ve been what? Whoring yourself to stay afloat?” Graham laughs, watching as the carriage leaves before he insults you. 

“Graham, I swear to God if that whore of yours is in my home, I will have you castrated.” You remember the mistress he keeps in London. If he’s been here, she probably has too. 

“I’m not stupid enough to bring her here with all the attention you’ve brought us. Do you know what you’ve done? What you’ve caused?” His words ring with hatred. “We told half the town you had a breakdown just to keep your name from being ruined! We tried to defend you!” 

“Why are you even here? I thought it would be clear I didn’t want to marry you by running away!” You yell, frustrated with the way your life has gone in the last four months. 

“You trifling whore, how dare you raise your voice with me,” he steps closer to you, his anger reaching its peak. “After all the trouble you’ve caused, you’re not going to treat me this way. You’re lucky I decided to stay engaged to you and that you still have a future.” 

“I’m never going to marry you, Graham. Never.” You walk past him and into your father’s home, slamming and locking the door behind you. 

The staff in the house scurry around, looking at you as if they’ve seen a ghost. Perhaps some of them thought you had run off and died. None of them stop you from going to your old room, and none of them stop you from tearing everything off the walls. You scream, throw things, and even toss old dresses out the window. 

If they want a madwoman, you’ll give it to them. 

Several hours later, your father's carriage pulls up. You watch him run into the house and hear his clumsy footsteps leading to your room. He bursts in the door, calling your name in a sob. You let him hug you and cry on your shoulder. You let him beg you to never go away again. 

Everything feels numb now that you’ve been shown the life you want and can’t have it. 

After half an hour, he leaves you to your destroyed room, mentioning he needs to discuss things with Graham. If he even tries to plan another marriage, you’ll run away and never look back; and in the opposite direction of Atsumu’s castle. 

When you’re called for dinner, you don’t bother dressing. You go in your worn dress from the night before, your wrist still bandaged from Atsumu’s fangs. The dining room is too warm from the fire and the warm spring day. Your father sits at the head of the table and Graham beside him, both of them engaged in the conversation they’re having. 

As you sit, your father comments on your appearance and you glare at him. 

“Sweetie, he’s just concerned,” Graham’s facade makes you want to rip his hair out. 

“We think it would be good to spend the spring and summer in London. A change of scenery for you, and perhaps you can make time to plan a new ceremony for the fall. They have great doctors in London, as well.” Your father’s optimism is something you’ve always loved, but in your mental state now, you just want him to shut up and give up on you. 

“I’m not planning another wedding.” You tell him. “I would like to go to London though.” 

“Then we will go in a week! I’ll have new dresses sent to our house there, you won’t need to bring anything but yourself.” Graham tells you and your father as the staff sets your food in front of you. 

The thought of putting anything in your stomach makes you want to vomit. You sit there through dinner, listening but not adding to the conversation. Graham seems to have your father wrapped tighter around his finger than before, and you don’t blame him. You left, after all. Once dessert is served, you dismiss yourself and head to your room. 

Sinking into the covers, you finally allow yourself to cry. 

– 

London in the spring is something you used to love. Your mother always dragged you and your father from your country home to the city for the peak season, going to shops, cafes, and all the music halls she could find. After she left, you quit going altogether. 

Stepping into Graham’s house feels surreal. All week, you argued with him whenever your father was gone, listening to his empty threats. You threatened to have his food poisoned at one point, but he just laughed. At some point, you stopped talking to him altogether. 

“Your room is on the third floor, the second on the right,” Graham tells you, dropping bags down in the foyer. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, walking up the steps and not looking back to him or your father. 

You hear mutters of worry about your sanity, concerns about where you’ve been all winter, and more things you can’t care to remember. The staircase is steep, but you take your time. By the time you’re in your room, you feel like he picked this room just to exhaust you. He must have noticed you haven’t been eating most nights. 

There is a nice view of the city from your room, at least. 

It’s past noon now, and there’s discussion about going out to dinner tonight to change things up, but you know you’ll fight tooth and nail before having to be reintroduced into society. Your father begs you to dress, telling you he’ll do anything to make you happy. 

To get him to shut up, you agree. 

Dressing with the assistance of one of Graham’s maids, you find yourself in a pale blue dress, the color awfully similar to the trim of your wedding dress. Perhaps he likes this color. Perhaps you’ll ruin it for him. When you make it to the foyer, your father is still not there, leaving you uncomfortably silent with Graham standing by the door. 

“You look decent for once,” he comments and you turn your head. “This could be easy, you know. A business transaction for us both.” 

“I’d rather die than marry you.” You finally look at him, really look at him for who he is. 

“That it seems.” He sighs. He steps towards you, his hand reaching out and moving a loose strand of hair away from your face. 

His hand is warm on your skin and it makes you cringe. He steps back, looking at you from the head down. He almost looks like he’s working on a puzzle, trying to figure out what piece of you to place next. 

“I can be kind. We could have a satisfying life, you and I both. I swear to be faithful to you until we have a few children if you do the same. You can spend money as you please. We can even live separately if you wish.” Graham really wants your father's money if he’s offering this. 

Before you can answer him, your father joins you in the foyer. “I hope this restaurant you’ve chosen is a good one, boy.” He claps Graham on the back of the shoulder and laughs. 

“Oh, you know I always pick good ones. Why else would I want to be with your daughter.” 

You scoff and roll your eyes. 

They both ignore you. 

The walk to the restaurant is not unpleasant, the umbrella you carry covers your face from strangers who may be looking at you. Once you arrive, they seat you outside. You fold up the umbrella, leaning it against your chair, and sitting down. Graham and your father continue talking about the horse race they’ve seemed to bet on for the upcoming weekend, but you watch the people walking by. 

Your mind begins to wander to Atsumu and your heart hurts. You never were able to be completely honest with him either. You kept what you felt to yourself. 

However, he completely shut you out without giving any explanation. He broke the trust first. He never asked you how you felt and if he had, you may have told him. 

“Would you like that, sweetie?” Graham asks and you furrow your brows. 

“What?” You ask. “I wasn’t listening.” 

“Your father suggested I show you the block after dinner. He’s planning on joining the gentlemen at the next table at the club tonight after dinner.” Graham tells you. 

“I suppose I’ll walk with you,” as if you have a choice now. 

Dinner is served not long after, and you manage to down a few vegetables and a bite of your chicken. Graham and your father have both given up on commenting on your eating habits, which you’re grateful for. It’s made it easier to manage. Once it’s over, you regret taking the few bites that you did. You have to stomach Graham for the next hour before you make it home.

At least the days are longer now, so if he tries anything, there will most likely be a witness. 

He takes your hand and places it on his arm, portraying the scene most Londoners expect. A couple in the spring, out for a stroll. He talks about the town, telling you about his favorite restaurants and music halls. He tells you he wants to take you to a play when you notice a name that you recall. 

“What is this place?” You stop in front of Lestar Manor. The sign is large and imposing with the name of the vampires who were blessed by the sun. 

“It’s almost like a joke,” he says. “The manor was abandoned and people swear it’s haunted now. I’ve never learned much more about it.” 

“I want to go look inside.” 

“Are you serious?” He frowns. “You refuse to do activities for a week, but want to explore a haunted mansion.” 

“So what? Let me explore it!” 

“We’re going home!” He says sternly, grabbing your arm. 

“Let go of me,” you hiss, pulling away. 

“For the love of all that is holy, stop acting this way and just do what’s good for you for once in your stupid life.” Graham raises his voice and you push him away from you. 

“If you touch me again, I’m going to scream.” You warn him. 

As you look around there is no one around, but you’re sure someone will hear you. Graham’s eyes go dark, his grin gone and his face contoured in anger. He steps towards you and you step back, but he’s faster than you. 

His grip on your arm hurts, so you begin to yell out. His hand clamps around your mouth and your eyes go wide. 

“Shut the fuck up, you stupid whore,” he hisses. 

“Let go of her,” a figure yells from the Lestar Manor. 

The voice makes your stomach drop and you try to pull away from Graham. As you turn your face, you see Atsumu standing in the shade of the Manor, his fists clenched at his sides. 

“Who are you to tell me what to do with my woman?” Graham spits back, letting go of your face. 

“Atsumu, go away.” You breathe out, your eyes welling up. 

He has no business butting into your life after sending you away to this fate. 

“Graham,” Atsumu hisses, stepping too close to the edge of the shade for your liking. 

“Graham, let’s go. Please,” you beg him, tugging him away from Atsumu. 

He smacks your hand away, missing your hand and hitting your cheek. You fall down on the sidewalk, catching yourself with your hands and scraping them. 

“Bastard!” Atsumu yells and before you know it, he’s launched himself at Graham, his skin vulnerable to the sun. 

“Atsumu! No!” You scream, watching as he punches Graham in the jaw. 

You expect his skin to start burning, or for him to catch on fire, or turn to dust. All your reading on vampires, none of it gave a solid answer to what happens when they go in the sun. Almost as if it was taboo to mention it anywhere. 

Nothing happens, in fact, Atsumu stands up over Graham’s body and looks at you with a smile. For whatever reason, he’s not dying in the sun. Did he discover something in the week that you were gone? Is that why he was in the Lestar Manor? Or is that the feeding house he mentioned before? 

Either way, you don’t want to hear from him. 

He broke your heart. 

You turn to run away from him and from Graham. As you take your first step, Atsumu catches your arm, and you turn to push him away. He pulls you into his arms instead, holding you against your body. 

“Atsumu, let go of me,” you sob, not pulling away but instead going limp in his arms. 

He picks you up, carrying you into the Manor and holding you against his chest as you sob. You hate him. You love him. You want him dead. You want him to give you the life you’ve always wanted. 

He doesn’t compel you to calm down, he just holds you as you cry. It takes a good ten minutes for you to gather yourself in his arms before you’re able to look up at him. His eyes aren’t glowing, instead, they’re the warm brown you love so much. 

“I hate you,” you whisper. 

“We told each other we would be honest with one another.” He shakes his head. 

“Atsumu,” you whine, “I love you more than life itself.” 

“I love you, —--,” he tells you. “You saved my life.” 

“What?” You frown. “You just saved me from that horrid Graham.” 

“Your blood…” he replies and you begin connecting the dots. 

“Lesair, Lestar… You don’t think that my family is?” 

He shrugs, “We need to find out the history of your family line before I can draw any conclusions... But since the night I drank from you, I’ve been able to walk in the sun. I was going to come find you and beg you to forgive me, but I needed to stop here first to collect some more books. That’s when I heard your voice and I saw him-” 

“You don’t have to explain. I’m just happy to be with you again.” You interrupt him. 

“I promise, I’m never letting you go now.” He tells you before kissing your lips. 

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