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imaginesmai · 7 months

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Right around the corner - Azriel (5)

AHHHHH this is the final part and let me tell you I'm SAD. It was so hard to write the ending you all deserve after all this love, so I tried my best. Let me know what you think! Also, you deserve A LOT, so I made it long hehehe. Don't worry, a request about the RATH universe is coming soon! If you want one too, drop it in my inbox!

(1), (2), (3), (4)

Plot: The story of how Azriel fixed what was broken, and how you forgave him.

Warnings: this is sad, but has a happy ending! Also, mental health issues.

No one expected the sidra to froze that year, and against everyone expectation, one day Velaris had woken up to see the riven covered by a silver layer. Children had missed school to skate in the solid surface, parents watching carefully from the edge. Some couples were skating too, holding hands and giggling endlessly.

You had been watching the new scene unfold all morning. And while you usually loved snow and ice as much as any child in town, you were starting to get a little sick of all the noise.

It wasn’t your new employee situation, who had been staring at the river all morning. She had already finished her duties, but always the polite and nice girl, Elain Archeron was keeping you company.

When you spotted for the third time the familiar red-head through the glass and she didn’t say anything, just sighed, you decided you had enough.

“You should tell him to get in before he freezes to death” you commented, still busy with measuring the ingredients.

“Oh, no” Elain blushed and looked away from the window. “No. He’s just… He can wait”

“He can, but doesn’t have to. You and Lucien should head out, rent ice skates and have a fun day. You already finished here” you smiled kindly at her, and before she could reply, you added. “I’m fine, I don’t even like cold weather. And I still need to finish this, which you can’t help me with. So, go”

Elain stared at you with uncertainty, and you tried to look as convinced as possible. Would you have liked her to stay? After all, she was one of the few people you socialized with these days. She had turned in when you opened the bakery again, right after you posted the sign about looking for a new partner.

And even if you had had your doubts when you discovered she was Feyre’s sister and Azriel’s friend, you considered her your own friend.

So, yeah, you would have liked her to stay. Because you were still awfully sad all the time, and her company was one of the few things that made your day better. But you being sad didn’t excuse her missing a wonderful day with her mate.

“It’s not closing time yet” her eyes danced between the glass and you. “He was supposed to wait for me at the house”

“Guess he’s too eager to see you. He’s been dancing around the bakery for a good hour” you chuckled. “Elain, I mean it. Go. Have fun. I’ll see you on Monday”

“Y/N, I promise I don’t mind waiting. It’s not like it will unfreeze”

“And I promise I don’t mind at all. So, go, have fun and tell me about it on Monday” you gripped her hand softly over the counter, nodding to the waiting mal outside. “Come on, go”

Lucien was once more outside the bakery, the only visible part of him his red hair. He was covered in thick layers, but still managed to smile when Elain kissed your cheek and took her coat on the way out.

You didn’t have it in you to watch them be affectionate with each other, so you looked down at your task and decided it would be the last of the day.

It was hard watching all those couples walking hand in hand and remembering the feel of his warm, scarred hand in yours. To hear a man laughing and remember the unexpected laughs you dragged out of him sometimes. Even looking at the river was painful, because you could almost see the ghost of Azriel and you learning how to skate in a frozen lake in the Illyrian mountains a few years ago.

You had seen Azriel around a few times now, walking through your bakery and waving at you through the glass. Two times he had been waiting at the door when it was late at night, silently walking you home from afar without talking. Almost two months had passed by and your feelings were still as messed up as before.

Though you didn’t cry as much as before, and you were starting to get better, you still wondered.

If Azriel getting help would mean your relationship would be fixed, or if it was broken permanently. Deep in your thoughts, and used as you were to Azriel’s shadows, you didn’t notice how they tugged on your apron until the door sounded again.

Elain’s name didn’t leave your lips, because as soon as the door opened, you lost your breath. As if you had summoned him, Azriel walked through the door, beautiful as ever. He wasn’t in his usual training leather, but winter clothes that fit him as a glove. Instantly, you noticed he had lost weight. His shoulders were slumped and his body didn’t carry the usual grace of an Illyrian warrior.

“Hi”

His scarred hands, that had held you so many times and slaughtered so many enemies, were tucked in his coat’s pockets. You could feel the nervousness through the bond, the hesitance. Too stunned to answer, you only stared at him.

You had known that, eventually, he would talk to you. That you would have to do more than just wave at each other through the glass and stay silent when he sent you details through Elain. But still, you hadn’t expected it.

Unable to move, you only blinked.

“I saw Elain and Lucien heading out” he added, not looking away from you. “It’s a nice day outside”

Azriel hadn’t finished before one of his new shadows scaped his control, sneaking around the counter. The familiar ones, that had been by your side since he left, danced around the new intrusion. It lifted your apron, and crawled up your neck.

The cool feeling was the last of your worries, because no matter how much you willed yourself to say something, you couldn’t even tear your eyes from him.

The bond flickered between the two of you, once more. Knowing that it was one-sided, that he didn’t wear it like you did, made break your trance.

“She’s finished for the day” you explained, sounding way more confident that what you felt.

“It’s a nice day, yeah” he repeated, not giving you time to feel awkward before he continued “I thought that maybe you wanted to take a walk with me. It’s cold, but we could… get coffee. Or chocolate, if you want”

Azriel gave you a half, broken smile. Hearing his voice again made you take ten steps backward.

“I have things to do”

You looked down to your current task, which could be easily discarded. You had left much important things half-done because of him, and you would have done it normally without a second thoughts. But no matter how heartful the conversation at your door had been, you just knew you weren’t ready to have a conversation without getting angry.

You knew you weren’t ready to forgive him.

His new shadow gripped your wrist tightly before disappearing, and you heard Azriel’s doubt. He wanted to say something else, and you wanted too. Still, you fell back to your measuring and ignored the way your vision blurred, how your knees became weak again.

Maybe going back to your duties was the only way not to break down again.

The silence continued for a long minute. You couldn’t not feel his presence, the way his scent filled the bakery and made your stomach turn. Your heart recognized what you needed, what you wanted, and threatened to jump out of your chest.

Before you could regret your words, Azriel opened the door again.

“You’re forgetting the yeast” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

When you looked up again, he only smiled. You opened your mouth to tell him to wait, maybe to fuck off and never come again. You didn’t have time, because Azriel closed the door behind him and he was gone.

The first tear fell against the unformed dough, followed by many more. You wouldn’t be finishing the blueberry cake that afternoon, you realized, as you crunched behind the counter and cried.

There was a storm coming, and everyone in Velaris had had the same idea – run to the market, buy everything they needed for a few days, and crowd themselves at home with their loved ones. You were trying to follow the first part of the plan, not having anyone to go home anymore. And if that wasn’t enough reason to drag you down, the crowd was getting intense.

Velaris’ market was a beautiful place, full of shops and nice vendors. But that day, the space felt too small.

You already had a few bags with you, yet there were a few more to go. Wanting to finish as soon as possible, you had ignored the rational part of your brain and had gotten in the middle of the crowd. You had only managed to buy milk and pasta, and still had a long way to go.

After Azriel’s brief appearance, your life had been messier than before. He had come by the bakery at least five times more, always offering you some kind of plan you rejected. Going to the park, for a flight or to a coffee shop. Taking walks, watching the sunset or training together.

You lived now half-prepared to see him walking through your door again, and not having the heart to tell him no. You weren’t sure if that thought frightened or comforted you.

In your haste, you had almost forgotten to buy provisions for the storm, and had found yourself on the worst day to do them. Crowded, loud and suffocating, that was how you would describe the market at that moment.

The fact that most people ran with their children and family wasn’t helpful at all.

Most of the times, it was Azriel who did the last-minute shopping for you. He knew you didn’t like crowds, loud places, that you did best in your bakery where only five people were allowed at a time.

Another shove broke you down from your daydreaming, and you looked back to see a pregnant woman staring with her eyebrows furrowed.

“The line is moving” she spatted, pointing to the small space ahead of you. “If you don’t move with it, you should step out”

“Oh, no” you chuckled softly. You picked up the bags on the ground and took the two small steps that you were supposed to. “Sorry, I just thought I could take a little bit more space. It’s crowded here”

“I don’t mind crowds, so if you want to step back, let me get first. I’m in a hurry”

“Me too” you gave her a polite smile, mindful of her state.

The short distance that separated you from the customer on the front was certainly not enough, and she knew it. Still, she looked at you with disapproval. There were only five more people to go until it was your turn, you could buy your snacks and run to the next stall.

You thought you could ignore the glare at the back of your neck, and you did for a few minutes. Without meaning to, you thought how everything with Azriel was easier. Not only people wouldn’t dare to talk to him like that, but also, he assured you a good meter of distance between you two and the rest of the world with his wings.

The snacks on your hands almost fell when, not even two seconds after the man took three steps forward, you were shoved again.

That time, when you looked back, the woman was accompanied by her mate. His wings covered her from the people behind them.

“You should really step out of the line” she repeated. “You might have all the time in the word, but we are in a hurry”

“Me too. You can’t expect me to be glued to that man” you tried to explain, anxiety coiling in your stomach. “He just moved”

“And you didn’t, which proves my point. Besides, it’s obvious you only have a few things. We have more”

“Which should be enough reason to let me go first, not only because I was here before you” you shrugged, feeling even more uncomfortable when the male huffed a laugh. “Maybe it’s you who shouldn’t have come here today if you can’t wait in a line”

You weren’t a threat for the woman, and you were trying really hard to be polite and prove your point. Besides, being pregnant wasn’t an easy task, and you could tell she was far along. Maybe you should have let her pass, or maybe told her to fuck off.

But before you could argue further, something clicked in the male’s eyes, wide with recognition.

And you would have preferred for him to go full berserk mode on you. Because you recognized that look, you had been receiving them for a while now.

The male elbowed the woman’s side softly, pointing with his chin towards you. You didn’t have time to turn back and avoid the conversation, because he spoke.

“You’re the shadowsinger’s mate” he announced, loud enough to make a few heads turn.

“Oh” the woman finally connected the dots and lunged forward to grab your arm so tight you couldn’t shake her off. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry” you pushed your arm back, trying to let go.

While the woman apologized, you couldn’t help but listen to the whispers. The same ones you had heard in your bakery and through the streets. Some of them thrown in your face by rude or nosy customers that didn’t understand the concept of privacy, others by bystanders.

At the end, it was the woman who said it out loud, confirming what everyone in the small circle that had formed at the cue was wondering about. She finally let go of your arm and crossed hers in front of her body.

The look of pity wasn’t as bad as the confirmation.

“He rejected you, right?” it wasn’t a question, not when you didn’t answer and she continued. “We heard you’ve been mated for almost a century and he doesn’t want the bond. Is that true?”

It wasn’t true, but you didn’t have the heart to correct her. Instead, you turned around and used your wing-less privileges to sneak through the crowd. You kept your head down, as if that could stop you from hearing the comments or feeling the stares.

People had come up with an alternative version where Azriel and you had been mated for decades, for centuries. Where you had cheated on him or he had changed you for someone else. You had even heard that he had bonded with another person and had kicked you out of the house, and that you had been the one rejecting the bond.

Each version was farthest from the truth than the last one, but they all hurt the same. The crowd didn’t seem to get thinner no matter how deep you got in the market. Once the people who had heard the conversation were left behind, new people crowded you, worried about the girl panicking and running through the middle of the market.

There were a few occasions where you thought you would fall, where you tripped and almost embarrassed yourself farther. You had almost made it to the back entrance of the market when you finally realized you were tripping no more. There was no longer a crowd around you, nor whispers or hands reaching your way.

It took you another few steps to fully stop and assess the situation. When you looked back to see where the crowd was, you were met with a broad chest inches away from you. Through tearful eyes, you recognized Azriel’s wings tucking you away from people, his mere presence pushing them away.

You met his hazel eyes, full of worry and regret. His hair was longer, covering his brow, but you found comfort in his crooked nose, in his freckles, that you knew so well.

You noticed in his hands your bags that had been left in the stall, a new one with the snacks you were about to buy.

“What – what are you doing here?” you choked out, too grateful for the sudden moment of peace to wonder about anything else.

“I felt you through the bond, a few hours ago. Anxious and…” he stopped himself, his eyes scanning every tear that marked your cheeks. “I was just getting here when it got worse. I heard most of it. I’m –”

“Don’t say you’re sorry” you interrupted him. “It’s not your fault”

Out of the many things that were indeed his fault, people not minding their own business wasn’t his. You were used to him blaming himself for everything, from wars in other courts to people fighting in the street. The response came naturally.

Your nose was cold and runny, your hands frozen in your pockets, and your feet hurt. Besides all of that, you felt all wrong. Because you enjoyed his presence, because what they said, and because you couldn’t help but calm down when he was close.

Azriel didn’t say anything when you took the bags from his hands, thanking him quietly. He didn’t say anything as more people walked away from him, either because of his wings or because they recognized him.

“You don’t like last minute shopping”

It was a pointless observation, but it was better than to comment on how afraid he had been when, just outside the market, he felt the bond snap with urgence. His shadows knew where you were, and that you needed him, but even he had trouble running through crowds. Azriel also couldn’t talk about how mad he had been at everyone in that stall, how his new shadows had turned off every light and almost chocked them to death.

Azriel wanted to say that you were probably cold because you didn’t like your own coats, and most of the times wore one of his. He wanted to hug you, too, to feel you between his arms after what felt like an eternity and promise you that it would end well.

But he couldn’t say anything more than the obvious.

“I had to” you answered.

With a furious fist, frustrated at life, at him and at you, you brushed the tears off your cheeks. You could tell that he wanted to keep talking, and you did too. Since your last encounter, you had come up with more conversations you should have.

You stared at each other for what seemed forever. There were details that you had almost forgotten in your sorrow – like his long lashes, that you teased him about. Or the freckle that snuck up to the corner of his left eye. The way his mouth rose higher from the right, and the small scar on his ear from where Cassian dared him to wear an earring.

Only his face was enchanting enough to help you forget about the day, about the weight of your chest. It was the first closing call from the market, that sounded through the public speakers, that broke you away.

“I should go”

You talked at the same time, and you smiled softly when you pointed to different directions. You didn’t miss how his eyes fell to your mouth, how his own lifted up too.

“I could walk you back” he offered, not tearing his eyes away from your mouth. “If you let me”

You didn’t answer immediately. Those last words, that he had repeated so often lately, almost had you saying yes. You could almost imagine how it would go – him walking by your side, one of his wings behind your back. His elbow brushing yours, and his gaze fixed on you.

Your smile dropped when you remembered the times you had walked just like that, tucked together. The times you had waked by yourself through Velaris with his imprint on you, and the times he had left without a trace of your presence.

Azriel knew the answer before you said it, and his shoulders dropped slightly.

“Sorry”

That time, you decided to turn away before he could. Taking the back exit was a poor choice, knowing it was farther from your house than the main one, but you couldn’t picture yourself walking through the market without Azriel keeping the crowds a step away.

So you turned around, gripped your bags tight and didn’t tear your eyes from the ground during the whole way back.

It wasn’t Azriel who found you the time everything changed, but you.

The cold and winter were over, the streets were clean and the sun was out. It was a perfect day to spend outside, and Elain seemed fixed in throwing you out of your own shop. She claimed that the bags under your eyes were as dark as the night, and that your skin was so pale that she couldn’t tell the flour stains apart from it.

“Just for the record, you’re kicking the owner of the bakery out of the bakery” you stated, looking at her once more from the door. “You do realize that shouldn’t happen, right?”

“I’m helping a friend come out of her ghost-like season” she replied, still decorating muffins. “And you do realize that most shops close on Sunday’s, right?”

“Certainly not a bakery” you looked to the empty fountain at her right. “If we do it together, we will – “

“If you touch one single item of this bakery, I’m banning you from the kitchen for a month”

You doubted she meant it, she could. But still, you sighed and turned around to open the door. You weren’t an extrovert, certainly not an outsider. Since you were a child, you liked your kitchen, your house, and your space. And none of those things were outside the door.

But you actually feared what the fae you left behind would do if you turned back. Elain had already hidden your apron so you couldn’t put it on, and had threatened to mismatch the soy milk with normal one.

Giving her a last, tight smile through the glass, you walked towards the center of Velaris.

Not many people were outside that soon on a Sunday morning, but you were glad for her insistence the moment the sun kissed your face. The cold weather was disappearing and you could feel warmth across your cheeks. It was still cold, and it would be for at least another week, but the change in the weather promised a happy spring.

You walked aimlessly around Velaris, stopping to watch the Sidra move every now and then. Your feet carried you through unfamiliar streets, all of them filled with colors and smells. The longer you walked, the healthier you felt. Each step felt like a weight lifted from your chest, and you even smiled to a few usuals you found in the streets.

The main square peeked through the streets. It wasn’t your usual destination, too crowded and not as pretty as other parts of the town. But you still walked through it, feeling at ease and happy.

It had happened before, usually the days before you started your cycle, and you should have known the feeling of ease had nothing to do with the weather or the walk. It had happened and it happened again, just as you rounded a corner to walk in the square.

If, by any chance, Azriel hadn’t noticed you coming, the shadows that tugged him away from where he was standing would have made it obvious.

His eyes widened when he saw you, and you felt that peaceful feeling making its home for the day. There was no sorrow, no sadness, and none of the usual feelings that lately you felt when it came to him.

You cursed yourself stupid when you realized that you cycle was coming, and that every year you were in a mood until Azriel showed up, your hormones demanding your mate.

“Y/N”

Your name fell from your mouth and just by hearing it you noticed something different. It was new, and at the same time, you thought you recognized it somehow. You looked to his empty hands, to the syphons on his shoulders and chest and truth-teller on his side.

It looked like you had interrupted something important to him. But instead of running away from him like the last two times, you took a step closer.

“Are you going on a mission?” you pointed with your chin to his leather, eyes stopping at his chest. There was that thing, that you couldn’t name.

“Just came back. I was…”

Azriel looked to the building he just exited and for a moment, in silence. You had met a bunch of times since the incident in the market, and you had started having longer conversations. About the weather, about your bakery, and even about his family, who you finally knew officially.

Certainly, your relationship had improved, although it wasn’t just fixed yet. When he didn’t answer, you were reminded of all the times he had kept things to himself, either out of fear or doubt.

He seemed to doubt between telling you and keeping it to himself. Any other time, you knew, he would have kept it to himself. He had done it, in the past – when you asked him about his job, or tried to understand his past. Many times where he had evaded the truth or his emotions.

Your mood, that had been in a rush since you left the bakery, fell a little at his silence. He looked torn and you were ready to leave, before he answered.

“This is Madja’s house. I meet her here so we can talk, usually during the week” he looked back at you, watching the surprise of his statement. “But something happened and I needed to talk to her”

“What happened?”

Azriel’s lips were pressed tight, debating on whether he should tell you or not. He wouldn’t have doubted about it a year ago – he wouldn’t tell you, because in his eyes, it would only hurt you more than he already had. But he had learnt new things, and had realized that a relationship was built on trust. And that his fears, his perception of the reality, had broken yours.

He had cut the mission short when he had noticed, though he wasn’t sure he had ever done something like that. Azriel didn’t know what had triggered it, why it happened in the Winter court and not anytime sooner.

Madja, of course, had had an answer ready – an answer that had left him staring at her door for long twenty minutes before you appeared.

“Kallias should have sent something to Rhysand, but he didn’t” he started, not sure why he was traveling so far from the event. “So I went to check. Turns out someone must have taken it and, well, I tried to…”

He trailed off before he could finish, aware of your confusion. You never talked about what he did for Rhysand, in any court. No matter how big or small was the assignment, he didn’t tell you about it.

But that wasn’t what your confusion was about, at least not all of it. You couldn’t possibly notice because you had given it for granted since the beginning, but Azriel did notice. He noticed the change as soon as it happened, and babbled when he explained to Rhysand what he should have been feeling for years.

Had explained to Madja moments ago, who had given him a knowing smile and a proud nod.

“I accepted the bond” he confessed, continuing before you could say anything else. “I don’t know how, or why, but I was there and suddenly I was hit with – with this in my chest, and I don’t know why it wouldn’t happen sooner”

“You accepted the bond” you repeated, looking between his chest and face.

“I don’t know how, or why now. I was, thinking… And it hit me” Azriel smiled sadly, not saying what his thoughts were about – what they had been about since that night. “I didn’t want to tell you, because, this is, you don’t have to do anything now. Me accepting the bond doesn’t change what I did”

Azriel hadn’t meant to tell you, neither to be so vague and ridiculously nervous about it.

It had been a surprise when, in the middle of a conversation, he felt it. He had been thinking about you, because there were flowers and they were pretty against the cold weather, and to him, you were the prettiest thing the Cauldron had made. One moment Kallias had been going through the last movements of the package and the next the high lord was looking at him with raised brows.

Congratulating him for something that should have happened six years ago.

“It’s not that I didn’t want the bond before, Y/N” he continued when you didn’t say anything. “I promise you, I didn’t know how to accept it. I didn’t know that I deserved it”

Azriel had thought, and he still wanted to, that you so pretty that you were meant for someone else. That it was borrowed time, that he didn’t deserve the bond just as he didn’t deserve you. With Madja and Rhys, they had had deep conversations about his mental health, about his version of life where he lived through a glass of pain and rejection.

As he stared at your surprised form, he tried not to let hope leak into his heart. He knew it didn’t fix what was broken, but he hoped it was the first step of a long recovery to win you back.

Only if you could confirm or deny, instead of stare at him.

“Say something” Azriel finally broke, almost begged. “Whatever you want. Just say something”

And you wanted to, because wasn’t that what you had wanted? You had fooled yourself lately thinking about may what ifs. What if he had accepted the bond in the bagging, what if he had told you that he wasn’t fine, that he was broken and needed help.

What if you had helped him and not rushed things when he wasn’t ready. Now, it felt like the Cauldron was giving you that opportunity, only that you didn’t know how to react.

You finally looked away from him and decided to give an experimental tug on the bond, to see if anything had changed.

It had.

“Az”

It was a chuckle, maybe the beginning of a cry. It was anger but also relief because what came back from that tug wasn’t what you usually felt. It was stronger, solid, as if there was a physical string between your bodies that kept you linked.

Usually, it was just an intense feeling that was enough for you. But now that you felt him tugging back, felt him loving you, you couldn’t hold back another laugh. He shoved down through it everything he felt – adoration, love, joy. Many fears that had you stumbling towards him, and pain.

So much pain that your smile dropped. His dropped too, and you felt the bond getting fainter.

“That’s another reason. I didn’t want you to feel… that” Azriel retreated the bond farther. “I have so many fears and pains here that I couldn’t even imagine sharing them with you. And that – “

“You don’t have to feel ashamed” you cut him off, your voice hoarse. “I love you the same”

Words were unnecessary when you hugged his middle and buried yourself in his chest. He curled around you, like he had done so many times.

The channel snapped open again, and you just closed your eyes tightly. It was an endless source of emotions, and it broke you that most of them were bad. There was rejection, from so many people that it felt like an angry, black bull coming your way. Sadness that felt overwhelming and never ending, always coming in waves when Azriel didn’t expect it.

You also felt disgust, and you only held him tighter when you discovered it was self-disgust. Not only at the things that he had done, but also at what had been done to him. The scars on his hands, the shadows around him. He had hated himself for so long he had forgotten how to love.

But then, at the bottom, there was something bright, and that part you realized it was only dedicated to you. There was his family too, but it wasn’t as intense as his love for you. Everything that he lacked during his life, that he yearned for, was tucked where it mattered the most.

“I love you” he whispered against your head, softly. “I love you”

You didn’t answer, just raised your head until you could brush your lips against him. Later, you would have time to blame the cycle, which you wouldn’t get for another two months, or the emotions of the moment. But you knew it was just what you needed, what you both deserved, when you felt him kissing back.

At the beginning, it was just his lips against yours, and it was enough. Your noses brushed each other, you got on your tiptoes and his wing cocooned both of you. His hands only pressed you tighter against his body when you moved your lips against his, brushing the edge of your tongue against his bottom one.

Azriel could barely keep himself straight when you silently asked for permission to open his mouth, which he happily obliged.

From that moment, it was crashing. The kiss was only a physical proof of your feelings traveling through the mated bond, so wild and intense you couldn’t tell which one was his or yours.

“I’m sorry, darling” he whispered against your lips, giving you no time to reply. “I’m sorry for hurting you, for being a coward. I’m sorry”

“I forgive you. We don’t keep secrets anymore” you managed to say between kisses.

“Never” Azriel answered while leaving kisses on your cheeks and nose.”

“And we’ll talk about our emotions, and feelings. You’ll tell me about your life when I ask”

“Always”

“You won’t close off to me” you pulled his head away and made him look at you.

While you held his face between your hands, Azriel smiled. It was a different smile from the previous ones, from the ones you had seen so far. It was carefree, loving, and yours.

Your thumb brushed the corner of his eye, his upper cheek, the border of his nose.

“I’m here, Azriel. Always. So you don’t have to hide anything from me, or to be ashamed or afraid. I’m here” you closed the distance once more, controlling the kiss by holding onto his face. “Right around the corner”

“Right around the corner” he repeated, dipping his head and sealing all his promises with another kiss.

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@lesliemurillo @impossibelle @polli05927 @florencemtrash @going-through-shit @minakay @setayeshmohseni @torchbearerkyle @esposadomd @amysangel @kennedy-brooke @originalcrusadetrash @luvmoo @historygeekqueen @marriedtolike18fictionalmen @wallacewillow0773638 @tothestarsandwhateverend @kristalhi @knmendiola @nikt-wazny-y @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @wallacewillow0773638 @clara-geekhime @kalulakunundrum @saltedcoffeescotch @originalcrusadetrash @mel-wcst @ailyr92 @bubybubsters @chickensrock3 @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @wallacewillow0773638 @just-m-2 @theravenphoenix26 @glitterypirateduck @a-frog-with-a-laptop @justdreamstars

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leclercings · 22 days

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Crush | Charles Leclerc x Reader | Part 2

Genre: Angst, Pining

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: You're in love with your best friend, Charles Leclerc, and he finally knows it…

A/N: Unrequited love sucks. It inspired me to write this though. Here's part two. What started off as a one shot has become a three part mini series, hope y'all enjoy it.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Masterlist

He kisses you again. And again.

You lightly trace his jawline with your fingers. He pulls you in closer, his heart beating against yours.

You finally pull away.

You both keep staring at each other, unable to speak.

You've always been super impulsive. Sometimes you don't think things through.

Like today. Like this moment.

Even though you'll be moving to Milan soon, you want Charles to know how you feel. Except you forgot the fact that he has a girlfriend.

There's shock in the atmosphere. You don't know what to say.

His hair is disheveled and your lipstick is smeared across his lips.

“Charles, I-”

You hear footsteps.

Charles immediately goes inside his room and locks his door while you stand outside, acting casual.

You take out a tissue from your pocket and wipe off your lipstick.

“All okay?” Pascale asks you. “Where's Charles?”

Your mom stands behind Pascale, a smirk on her ageing face.

“H-he’s inside. He isn't opening the door.” You stutter, still shaken up by the turn of events. You run a hand through your hair.

“Oh this boy will be the death of me.” Pascale knocks. “Charles, come on.”

“Leave him be,” your mom replies. “He needs time.”

Pascale looks utterly confused. She can sense that something is brewing in your mom's mind, but right now she is unable to figure it out.

You go downstairs where your family is waiting.

“Y/N,” your mom says, “Why don't you drop me home?”

You look at her. You definitely need to get out of this headspace you're in- having done something you deeply regret.

“Sure mom, I'll bring the car out.”

You're both sitting in the car. Your mom has switched the radio on and is jamming to the music.

There's too much going in your head so you're quiet.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head. She insists further.

“Why didn't you tell Charles about your interview? I thought he would've been the first person to know.”

“I didn't know how to. He's been busy with work and I never thought I'd make it.”

She nods in understanding.

“What did you talk about?”

“I kissed him.” You let it out, tears forming in your eyes. It was wild and unexpected.

And surprisingly, reciprocated.

“Y/N, love, don't cry. You do know that he has a girlfriend?” Your mom switches the radio off.

“Oh come on Mom, you encouraged it! I wasn't even willing to go after him.”

“Did I?” Your mom chuckles. “You've loved him for a long time, darling. Anybody can see it, except the idiot himself.”

“It's one sided, Mom.”

“Is it, really?”

You wonder what she means by that. You sigh.

“I think I ruined our friendship.”

Your mom gives you a soft smile, gently stroking your face as you park the car at your family's home.

“Just wait and see. He'll come back to you. As I said before, give him time.” She says, before hugging you goodbye.

“I love you, always.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

It's been a few hours since the inchident. You're worried. Charles hasn't responded to any of your texts.

You feel heartbroken and so disappointed. There is a heaviness inside your chest- a feeling of hopelessness and helplessness.

You kissed Charles. And he kissed you back. The thought makes you smile.

But you don't know if it was an instinct or is it because he likes you too.

Your mom told you to give him time. And that's what you're going to do.

*****

You're busy packing stuff. It's been a hectic week so far.

Whatever happened replays in your mind again and again, but you haven't heard from him.

He hasn't even read your messages.

You feel embarrassed.

You're leaving by the end of this month, and you don't want to leave things on a bad note.

Your room looks cleaner than before. More sorted. Although it doesn't reflect what conflict you are going through internally.

You check the time. It's almost midnight. Your stomach growls, as if on cue. You think of ordering something.

You're going through the options in your phone just as the bell rings.

You open the door to see Charles standing.

“Charles?”

“Can I come in?” He asks.

“You don't need to ask,” you respond, opening the door a little wider.

He enters your home. Everything has been packed in little boxes.

He smells a little funny. Staggering to the sofa, he plops down.

"Charles, are you drunk?” You ask him, sitting opposite to him.

He doesn't respond except by giving you a glare.

“I broke up with Alexandra.”

“What?”

“I told her we kissed.”

You feel guilty. You're the reason he broke up with Alexandra. You know how much she meant to him.

It was selfish of you to do this. But there's a certain happiness inside of you- you can't help but feel relief that maybe, just maybe there's something possible between you and Charles.

“I'm sorry, Charles.”

“I'm not. We need to talk about what happened.”

He looks drowsy, almost stressed.

“You're not in the right frame of mind right now, Charles.”

He bangs his hand against the arm of the sofa, scaring you. You've never seen him this angry and conflicted.

“Why did you kiss me, Y/N?”

“Why do you think so?”

Charles yawns. You know he's not going to remember this conversation in the morning.

“Why don't we,” you get up, helping him up as well, “tuck you in bed and we can talk in the morning?”

He nods. You help him up, stumbling across boxes, leading him to the guest bedroom.

You make him lie down on the bed. He sighs.

You gently kiss his forehead.

“Sleep well, my love.”

You're about to leave but he holds your hand.

“Don't go, please.”

You can see how vulnerable he is. There is a storm of emotions behind his beautiful green eyes.

“I'll come back.”

He loosens his grip.

By the time you come back, he is snoring. You look at him and wonder how on earth are you going to talk to him in the morning.

Taglist - @janeholt3 @rhythmstars @missenclod

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when-life-gives-you-lemons-if · 7 months

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Insert-Rich-Family-Name Book 2 👀🔪🔪

Unspeakable tragedy has unveiled your family's darkest secrets. Some rest in eternal silence, while others are trapped behind bars, accused of unimaginable crimes.

You've already played judge and jury for an unexpected murderer, but can you salvage your grandfather's fragile legacy? Will you ascend to lead the company and claim that vacant seat to safeguard your family's fortune, or is it time to cash in your shares and disappear?

As three potential investors come knocking for a merger, tread carefully; trust is a luxury you can't afford.

And in a world where danger lurks behind every corner, one question haunts your every step...

Who wants you dead?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I know this game wasn't a reader's favorite, but I've been missing the MC from Insert-Rich-Family-Name, so I'll be back to writing it soon.

I enjoyed writing book 1, I love those characters and I know I will enjoy writing book 2 as well. This book was my first self-published game and I take pride in that even though it didn't do too well financially in comparison to the games I publish with Hosted Games. 😅

All that to say, I'll try to have at least the prologue of book 2 drafted in October, so join the Patreon for more family drama, more bodyguard romance, and all the other love interests. 😀

And yes, this will be the title, the cover, and the blurb for book 2.

For context about the cover: (Spoilers)

-The blond guy is Marcus Fargos. One of the people who sent MC a letter at the end of book 1. Marcus is the heir of the Tabloids who keep saying bad things about MC's family. So Marcus is Bob/Vera's boss.

-The blond lady is Marisca Blackstone. She may be a damsel in distress or not. She's the diamond princess because her family owns several diamond mines in South Africa.

-The guy with the drink is Kev's Brother. That character is gender customizable in the game, so for my MC, I went with the male version, Raine Montecristo.

Some questions and answers.

Book 2 will focus on whether MC wants to save the family business or sell it and walk away.

Saving it will mean choosing one of the 3 investors to merge with.

Selling it will also be one of those investors to sell it to, but MC will need the family's approval to sell because everyone has a share in the company.

Yes, the 3 investors will be romanceable even though you already have a love interest from book 1. They will mainly be hookups, but hookups that will stick around throughout the whole game.

Of course, more murders and mysteries.

More romance. I want to develop the romance with the love interests from book 1.

More steamy scenes.

More interaction with the remaining family members. So yes, Benny will come back with his new husband.

There will be a lot more, but that's all I can think of for now. 💕

#insert rich family name

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a-d-nox · 1 month

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tarot cards and their key phrases: wands

this is just a beginners guide to the wands suit - i won't go into imagery, color use, etc. these are key phrases that come to mind when i think of the cards - NOT how they should be directly applied. they needs to be thought about situationally and the cards / when they are in combos they can change or alter their meanings of any reading.

ace of wands (1)

astrological equivalent: sagittarius sun

upright: inspiration, new adventure, new projects, travel, start of a business venture, new relationships, drive, and/or motivation.

reversed: hesitation, fears about next steps / timing / failure / leaving, what prevents you from being bold/decisive, lack of confidence, and/or delays.

two of wands (2)

astrological equivalent: leo jupiter

upright: plans for the future, excitement, impatience, new opportunities, remaining where you are, listen to intuition, new partnership, supportive relationship, and/or growth.

reversed: impatience, acting hastily, overexcitement, moving forward too quickly, the unexpected, what doesn't fit the narrative in one's mind, giving up, slowing down, needing to do research, needing a plan of action, needing to try again, waiting for someone else to make the first move, doing what makes you uncomfortable, and/or needing to take initiative.

three of wands (3)

astrological equivalent: leo mercury

upright: energy used to work with others, delegation / sharing responsibilities, waiting, looking for a fitting opportunity, creative/productive energy, prosperity, and/or possibility for travel.

reversed: delays, disconnection from a relationship / group of friends, frustration, disappointment, learning journey, there is a better solution than the one you are thinking of, and/or needing to remain flexible/patient.

four of wands (4)

astrological equivalent: leo venus

upright: wedding, anniversary, graduation, achievements, celebrate your wins, enthusiasm for a connection, hard work, and/or relaxation.

reversed: resistance to indulge, resisting temptation, needing to be present in the moment, and/or needing to find joy.

five of wand (5)

astrological equivalent: aries mars

upright: conflict, disagreements, competition, people all vying for the same thing, strong opinions, and/or rebel energy.

reversed: conflict that is blown out of proportion, details in the argument, being exaggerated for dramatic effect, needing to stick to the facts, avoiding drama/conflict, and/or resolution/agreement reached after an argument.

six of wands (6)

astrological equivalent: leo sun

upright: victory, good news, post-period of struggle, focusing on feeling proud, acknowledging your successes, accepting praise, hard work, deserving recognition, and/or enthusiasm.

reversed: delay in success, disappointment, temporary setback, needing to stick to the plan, and/or needing diligence.

seven of wand (7)

astrological equivalent: aries mercury

upright: unforeseen challenges, obstacles that arise, needing to be assertive/strategic, defensiveness, facing adversity, and/pressure.

reversed: letting anger get the better of you, acting defensive, hyper vigilance, challenging beliefs, feeling defeated, questioning standing up for yourself, lashing out when provoked, and/or internalized anger/frustration.

eight of wands (8)

astrological equivalent: sagittarius mercury

upright: something that is exciting, something happening soon, travel, new person coming into your life, moving quickly, and/or everything falling into place.

reversed: delays, hang-ups, lack of enthusiasm, what you anticipate, divine timing, important realizations, and/or lack of movement.

nine of wands (9)

astrological equivalent: aries moon

upright: deals with a lot (the good, the bad, and the ugly), exhaustion, feeling like quitting / giving up, almost there, dig deep, and/or resilience.

reversed: giving up on something, being urged to not give up, acting stubborn, getting in your own way, you can only control yourself, and/or willingness to take responsibility for behavior.

ten of wand (10)

astrological equivalent: sagittarius saturn

upright: burden of responsibility, feeling overwhelmed, too much going on, physical exhaustion, and/or needing to delegate.

reversed: tremendous pressure, extreme exhaustion, burnout, what you can handle, comparing yourself to others, and/or needing to do what makes you happy.

page of wands

astrological equivalent: earth and fire

upright: grounded, playful, curiosity, good news is on the way, creative experience, and/or new opportunities.

reversed: hasty, impulsive, needing a plan, unreliable, taking on only what you can handle, acting childish, and/or complaining about responsibilities.

knight of wands

astrological equivalent: air and fire

upright: take action on ideas/projects, begin, start by starting, others are supporting you, passion, no hesitation, and/or moving towards goals.

reversed: self-doubt, lack of progression, delays, misunderstandings, don't give up, course of action is needed, and/or needing patience.

queen of wands

astrological equivalent: water and fire

upright: power, creativity, emotional intelligence, passion, ambition, leadership opportunities, claiming power, taking back power, confidence, and/or worthiness.

reversed: doubting you value/worth, feeling like no one sees you, cultivating beliefs, seeing a shift in your confidence, and/or needing to have trust/respect for yourself.

king of

astrological equivalent: fire

upright: leadership, authority, stability, integrity, calmness, relying on your instincts, maturity, confidence, decisive action, and/or enthusiasm.

reversed: abusiveness, misuse/abuse of power, holding grudges, bullying, needing to understand the responsibilities you have, being in a place of power, selfishness, and/or oppressiveness.

like what you read? leave a tip and state what post it is for! please use my "suggest a post topic." button if you want to see a specific pac/pile next! if you'd like my input on how i read a specific card or what i like to ask my deck, feel free to use the ask button for that as well.

click here for the masterlist

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writingjourney · 6 months

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Friday Nights at the Vinothek | Vampire!Secondo x gn!Reader

Summary: When the local vintner who buys his cigarettes at the kiosk you work at offers you a job you can’t believe your luck. But after moving to the vineyard where the attraction between you only grows, you soon realize that he is not quite who you thought – and that working for a vampire comes with unexpected dangers.

Content: 26k words, gn!reader, smoking, alcohol consumption, blood donation/needles, fainting, vampirism (blood drinking, mind control to keep you asleep), werewolves, violence, hurt/comfort, smut (biting, blood kink, fingering, spit kink, praise, cuming in pants, cockwarming, p in hole sex, no protection), 18+, MDNI

I'm happy to finally share this story. Thank you @foxybouquet for your help with the nicknames ♡ This is a continuation to my fic Friday Nights at the Cinema Club with Primo. You don't have to read that one. However I recommend reading them in the correct order if you do! The Ao3 version is split into 3 chapters for easier reading.

Masterlist – Ao3 link – Part 1 | Primo's Story

“You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me and still come with me, and hating me through death and after. There is no such word as indifference in my apathetic nature.”

― Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, Carmilla

May

It takes all of two minutes of regular walking until he finds himself at his destination. Kiosk the sign reads in chipped away block letters, the color faded from decades of exposure to the sun.

Secondo steps inside. The neon lights flicker unrhythmically, uncomfortable to his sensitive eyes but the small corner store is the only business in a radius of forty kilometers that’s open after eight pm. Two tall newspaper racks greet him by the door, another long shelf that sells all sorts of cheap booze, a random assortment of groceries and drug store products, a bunch of dead flowers slowly rotting in their sad plastic prisons. His brothers would hate it here. Hell, sometimes even he hates it here but as the lovely face behind the register comes into view these feelings quickly change. He wonders why on earth you would choose to spend the limited years of your life working late night shifts in this dingy, outdated shop. Weekend nights, at that.

“Buona sera,” he says, then points to the Marlboro reds behind you.

The selection is abysmal here. You hand him the cigarettes, the picture of a rotting lung barely catching his eyes from the packaging. It means nothing to him, would have meant nothing to him even if he wasn’t beyond mortal diseases. Meanwhile your own curious eyes roam his form like they always do. Not very subtle but he does the very same thing with no hint of shame, your hair and skin tone flat and ashen in the horrible lighting, a wide, deformed black polo-shirt with your name tag on it hiding most of your body.

“Grazie,” he says, handing you a twenty. “Keep the change.”

At first, you fought him over the money. By now you accept it without question, the whole interaction usually playing out in exactly the same way as it does tonight. All this morality, all the politeness. You’re wasted here, wasted in this joyless life.

“Do you want to smoke with me? You close in a few minutes, no?” he hears himself asking, not sure where it is coming from. The clock above your head tells him it’s almost ten.

“I’ve never smoked before,” you say. Such a soft voice. He wonders how it would sound in a scream.

“That is not a no.”

You smile. “No, it’s not.”

What does it say about him, that he wants to corrupt this young, innocent human? Maybe that he has seen too much, the way they tend to throw away the few years of life that they have to work and work some more, energy wasted for corporations, for family drama and horrible vacations just to feel a short sense of adventure every once in a while. Then they die full of resentment and regret and once they’re gone their offspring fight over the little money and the few possessions that they leave.

Not that his own family is much better.

You meet him outside of the kiosk a few minutes later. Wordlessly he hands you a cigarette, followed by his luxurious gold Dupont lighter, worth about a thousand euros, a little splurge he treated himself to in Paris a few years ago. When you open the lid, it gives its signature cling, a well-measured flame flickering to life as you spark the flint.

“This is a fancy lighter,” you comment, bringing the cigarette to your lips.

Secondo smiles. So you have an eye for these things, even if you lack the funds. Even more curious now he watches you light the Marlboro, promptly coughing in pained stutters. He doesn’t fight the amused smile that tugs at his lips as he carefully extracts the expensive lighter from your hands, slipping it back into the pocket of his tight black slacks.

“What do you say?” he asks.

“It’s not bad,” you reply. “But I don’t think I’ll stick with it.”

He’s not surprised, though he is impressed you so easily gave in. “There are many more ways to sin, more ways to enjoy life, that might be more to your liking, little dove.”

“Like what?”

“Hmmm.” He examines you, lingering on the playful smirk on your face. “Wine of course, riding a motorcycle, expensive clothes, parties, good food… sex.”

An unmistakable heat reaches your face. He can hear the blood pumping faster through your veins, smell the first few hints of arousal oozing from your pores. It satisfies him, your reaction.

“So what, are you the devil trying to corrupt me?” you ask, covering the tremor in your voice with a chuckle.

He takes a drag from his own cigarette, exhaling a long veil of smoke. “Something like that.”

You get more restless beside him, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “If ugh… if you’re asking me for other favors, I’m really not–”

“No,” he interrupts. “I am not. I am not in the habit of finding my lovers in old shops or dark alleyways of small towns.”

“Where do you find them then?”

You pose the question quite genuinely, a flirty undertone to your words that he’s not sure you’re even aware of. He eyes you curiously. “I thought you weren’t interested?”

He can sense more heat rising to your face, radiating off into the cool night air. “I never said that.”

Ah. He averts his gaze, resisting the temptation. Secondo does not take human lovers. Not anymore. After centuries of losing people, of swimming around aimlessly with no one to anchor him, a ship lost in the endless expanse of sea that is an eternal life, he has set himself firm boundaries. Humans are a source of food, at best a companion for a few minutes of conversation, but they are never permanent. Allowing them into your bed leads to lies and wrong expectations. Falling for them, loving them even – it is hopeless, it’s a non-exhaustive well of pain and grief and misery. And attempting to make them last, turning them? He won’t make the same mistake that his younger brother made, inevitably breaking promises and dooming an innocent human to the same restless fate until they despise him for it.

He watches you stub out the cigarette on the metal lid of the nearby trashcan before throwing it away, turning back to him with a glimmer of excited anticipation in your eyes. He’s not sure what you see in him – a sophisticated older man looking for a young lover? A lonely customer in search of a few minutes of company? The local vintner out for a smoke after a long day?

“Maybe next time we will try something else,” he says.

You don’t reply as he stubs out his own cigarette, heading back home without looking back.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Vampire Gazette 02/05

Werewolf Presumed Dead After Fight In Central European Woods

A fight between a vampire and a werewolf during last Friday’s full moon supposedly ended in the death of the lycanthrope. Multiple anonymous sources claim that the victim was a middle-aged outcast who resided close to the scene of the conflict in a small Central European town. A source close to the family suggests that the vampire, who remained unharmed, is Primo Emeritus. Known as a former Papa and eldest son of the current head of the Church of Emeritus, the vampire moved to the town no more than twelve moons ago. The source states that it was an act of self-defense and that the Emeritus ghouls took care of the body. No remains could be found within the castle walls of his now abandoned home, according to a representative of the werewolf community. A team of impartial investigators has been hired by the authorities to look into the case. Upon editorial request, Primo Emeritus was not willing to comment on the accusations at this time.

Instances of fights between vampires and werewolves have become rare over the past two centuries. This is the first instance of a killing between the two groups in almost a decade. Further consequences remain to be observed. Experts expect the respective authorities to be able to smooth the waters fairly quickly considering the high social standing of the Emeritus clan.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Secondo nearly spits out his evening coffee, Terzo next to him breaks out in manic laughter. For a few minutes after reading the paper they both sit around the large dining table in pure, unadulterated wonder.

“He killed a fucking werewolf?” Terzo finally speaks into the silence.

“It would appear so.”

More laughter. Terzo is holding his belly underneath his pristine white blouse, his chest heaving with the intensity of his fit. Secondo knows his brother is not breaking out in amusement but sheer disbelief and yet, it is a rare, almost heart-warming experience to hear him actually laughing for once. If only the circumstances weren’t as dire.

“I’m not surprised no one informed us,” Secondo muses. “Father must know.”

“He must, yes, but he doesn’t give a shit.” Another bout of laughter as Terzo’s elbows crash down on the majestic wooden table, his head landing on his hands in a gesture of wild incredulity. “He killed a werewolf. Primo.”

“Will you stop laughing? This could have serious consequences, outcast or not. We have to keep an eye on this.”

“Do you think they’ll be after us?”

A shrug. “That would be foolish but it is a possibility.”

Terzo rests his head on his upper arm now, elegantly draped over the table with his raven hair falling into his face as he turns to his brother. “Why do you think he killed him?”

“Perhaps it was self defense. Some werewolves still hold a deep hatred for vampires. Though it is very stupid to attack Primo. He must have known who he is.”

Terzo pauses, drumming his fingers against his head. He was never able to keep still for long, a little fidget with a tendency for clumsiness, drawing attention to himself if he wanted to or not. “I wish we knew what he is up to. I hate this separation. Can’t you invite him over for that big fancy new wine tasting?”

“He clearly stated that he wanted to be alone for a while to build a quiet new life.”

“Yes but by now a while is four decades.”

Secondo breathes out a sigh. “I can invite him, I am not sure he will come.”

“Let him know I’m here.”

“I don’t know if that is an incentive or a sure way to get him to never call again.”

His voice is deadpan, yet Terzo breaks out in more laughter. “You can be so funny, fratello. If only you wouldn’t hide it behind that scary scowl of yours.”

“Aren’t you supposed to help the ghouls clear out the west wing today? We need to renovate the rooms.”

“I don’t know why you assume I am the new bellhop in your hotel business.”

Secondo waits until Terzo meets his eyes, narrowing them for extra emphasis. “Don’t think I do not know why you suddenly felt the need to visit me over the summer. Surely it was not because you missed me so.”

“I don’t know what you mean, fratello.”

“What makes you think they will be here?”

Terzo holds his gaze, similar white and green eyes meeting, only breaking away when the door to the dining room flies open and a black-hooded ghoul steps inside. “They will be, I know it.”

June

Time feels especially gooey on weekend nights. Customers are a rare sight, not even Mr Emeritus, the attractive older and suspiciously well-dressed man who occasionally buys cigarettes from you, shows up tonight. The tinny music from the old radio behind the counter is somehow worse, every shift a ten hour train ride without stops. Usually, you sit on your little stool reading your book or scrolling on your phone. Today, it’s so boring that you open the daily newspaper to scan the job listings, just in case something pops up.

As expected, it is hopeless. Another dead town center of a remote village with no qualified job offers, your salary a joke but your boss never fails to stress that you at least get the employee discount and free Wrigley’s Spearmint bubble gum. Even with your meager savings you can’t afford the move to a bigger city right now, the prospect of being alone in an even larger just as hollow space with too many strange faces around you not at all enticing. At least here people know you, even if all of your friends have long since moved away in search of jobs and a place to settle.

You turn the page, a rustling sound that feels too loud in the quiet vacuum of the kiosk.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Nordsteiner Abendblatt

– Ad –

Wine is not the only juice of life that makes it worth living. Donate your blood to help the local hospitals this weekend at the Emeritus Vineyard.

Date: June 25th, 4-10pm

Reward: 50€

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Fifty euros? You pause. Have they always offered money for this? It’s not a pay rise, it won’t get you very far either, but for a bit of blood it’s certainly tempting. There haven’t been any blood donation campaigns here in quite some time, not since they closed the local medical center after pretty much all of the doctors retired, their offices long since abandoned.

You mull it over until you close the shop half an hour later after another sluggish Friday night without customers. You walk past the Vinothek, peeking inside like you always do on your way home. For a shop slash bar that sells wine in an almost abandoned old town it is incredibly fancy, antique looking wooden interiors, deep green velvet wallpapers with a subtle pattern of tendrils of vine that seem to be crawling up to the ceiling, dipped into the soft shadows of dimmed wall lamps. Everything is centered around a bar that is too well-stocked and professional for a town like this, expensive liquors, a wine fridge that must have cost more than your tiny old car. Two men are nursing their drinks – only one of them is peering over the rim of an actual wine glass, black hair falling into an aging face, the other one tipping the remainder of a beer into his mouth.

The only explanation you have is that this is Mr Emeritus’s little playground while the actual money comes from the export of the wine they produce in the vineyard at the edge of town. You’ve been to the old Mansion before, tugged away in the rolling hills framing the area. They offer guided tours with subsequent wine tastings, hikes, really, that are especially beautiful in early fall when the grapevines are filled with deep purple fruit and the leaves of the surrounding trees are slowly turning yellow. Even though you don’t drink all that often and are by no means an expert you have to admit that you’ve never tasted wine quite as smooth, quite as delicate as Mr Emeritus’s.

That day a few years ago you didn’t get to see the owner himself, you’re not sure if you’ve ever actually seen him in broad daylight, but now you do spot him standing in the doorway at the far end of the bar. He looks dashing, wearing tight-fitting black slacks, a matching black button down shirt with expensive-looking leather gloves and the sunglasses you never see him without. He’s Italian, that much you know, polite yet reserved when he’s not coaxing you into smoking. Even a few weeks later you’re not quite sure what got into him that night, talking to you about enjoying life and sinning, about alcohol and sex and then just… leaving. Not even mentioning it again when he picked up new Marlboros the week after.

Lost in thought, you almost miss that his gaze shifts towards the window. Under his glasses it’s hard to tell if he is actually looking at you but you decide to leave anyway before he gets the idea of inviting you inside. Somehow you must have got stuck for a moment, frozen in time, because before you’ve even passed the bar he suddenly pops up right in front of you. Confused, you glance from the entrance back to him, the door only slowly swinging shut. How–

“Buona sera,” he says, lighting a cigarette with the fancy gold lighter he let you use last time. For a man who seems to indulge in luxuries, he seems so very down to earth, minimalist in a way, no word, no detail that feels out of place.

“Hello,” you reply.

For a moment you stand there like you’re waiting for the bus to pick you up, unsure if you should just leave or if he is trying to start a conversation. Maybe he’s just out for smoke, maybe he didn’t even notice you from inside. The tip of his cigarette burns up brightly when he takes the first drag, a bright orange fleck of light in the darkness surrounding him. His mere aura beside you seems to command the night, wholly different from how you perceive him in the kiosk. This is his private kingdom, this is where he feels at home.

“Did you finish your shift?” he asks then, puffing out smoke.

“Yeah. It was a calm night.”

“I see.” He takes another drag, then he holds the cigarette out for you, secured between his gloved fingers. “Hm?”

You instinctively shake your head and his pencil mustache twitches. He does not pull away, a dare, maybe. “Okay,” you decide. “Sure.”

A rare smile. He takes a step closer which sends you into a nervous spiral, your heart pumping faster and faster. A slight tremor runs through his hand as he places the filter at your lips, the very part that was trapped in his own mouth mere seconds ago. At this thought, your hands start to sweat, warmth spreading out in your lower belly. His eyes are fixated on your mouth as you close your lips around the cigarette, taking a brave inhale that burns in your lungs. This time you don’t cough or stutter. Your face starts to burn all the same.

“Can I offer you a drink?” he asks. “On the house.”

“I don’t usually…” You catch yourself before you finish the sentence, shaking your head to dismiss your own hesitation as you remember his words. “Yes, thank you.”

If he notices how flustered you are, he does not let on as he holds the door open for you to invite you in. The man who finished his beer earlier is slipping past you by the entrance and you notice that whoever had the wine is not inside the bar anymore. At the prospect of being alone in here with Mr Emeritus, your stomach does a somersault.

He disappears behind the bar and you set your bag down on one of the stools before you shift into a comfortable position right next to it. The seats are soft and plush, inviting you to stay for more than one glass. Observing the happenings behind the bar from here is a lot more exciting than from the outside. Mr Emeritus is in his element, that much is certain, whipping out glasses and corkscrews with expert movements.

“You do not drink often,” he states. “I think I have something that you would like.”

You nod your consent and watch him pick out a bottle from the fridge. It looks expensive, a white label with gold-foiled lettering. Papastrello, it says. The rest of the words are too small.

“What are you reading?” he asks as he opens the bottle. His eyes have found your bag, the spine of a worn old paperback peeking out of the open zipper

“Carmilla,” you say.

“Ah, vampires.” The cork pops, a deep, satisfying sound. A rich, slightly sweet scent escapes the now open bottle. “Do you enjoy the old tales?”

“I prefer them over the newer adaptations, yes.”

“So do I,” he says, expertly filling a glass with the red liquid. “I am surprised a young person such as yourself is so fond of the classics.”

You chuckle. “I think many people are. Or they would not be classics.”

He hums, setting the glass down in front of you. “Not blood but a red that is just as beautiful and rich,” he remarks. “One of my fratellino’s favorites.”

“I don’t uhm…” You carefully take the delicate stem of the thick-bellied glass. “I don’t really know how to–”

“Smell it for a moment, grappolino,” he says. “Do not worry about drinking.”

You bring the glass to your nose. The scent is so strong to your unused senses that you barely have to sniff. Even so, you’re not sure what you’re smelling. It reminds you of different fruits, cherry maybe, almost sweet but with a hint of acid.

“There are different categories of aromas,” he says. “Primary, secondary, tertiary. Many factors influence the smell, the type of grape, the fermentation process, the aging in the barrel.”

He explains it calmly, knowledgeable, not like he wants to brag or taunt you for your lack of expertise. You have to admire how soft-spoken he is for someone with such harsh features, such a domineering aura. Seldom have you met a man of his standing who was so pleasant to talk to, who drew you in like this.

“Now try,” he instructs. “A small sip, hold it in your mouth for a moment, breathe in and see how it makes you feel.”

You do as he says, taking some of the red liquid in your mouth and swirling it around your tongue, breathing in as you let it sit. Somehow the aroma is still there, different from the taste, more intense, but together they fill your senses in a most pleasant way. The wine feels smooth in your mouth just like you remember, even as you swallow, not at all like the cheap supermarket wine you know from when you were younger and drinking with friends.

“No blood, you were right,” you say with a smile. “But it is good. I like it a lot.”

He nods, content with your reply, and fills your glass up a little more. Somehow you feel good about satisfying him, about following his instructions and earning his approval. You wouldn’t mind following him in other areas of your life.

“Speaking of blood,” you say to distract yourself from these thoughts. “I saw your ad in the paper earlier. The one for the blood donation.”

“Are you looking to donate?” he asks, perking up. With his interest so focused on you, you suddenly feel almost shy about it.

“I am thinking about it,” you say. “I used to go years ago.”

“We are happy about everyone who donates. It is for a good cause, we are going to do it every few months now.”

“I didn’t know that you get money for it or I would have looked into it sooner.”

“The kiosk does not pay well?” he concludes.

You huff out a pained laugh. “No. It’s a struggle. But there aren’t many jobs available around here.”

He regards you curiously, at least from what you can gather without seeing his actual eyes. You wish you could. His mustache is a dark brown color, even without hair on his head you assume his eyes must be dark just like that. Or perhaps green, maybe even hazel. Without seeing them your own gaze quickly falls, dancing along his sharp cheekbones and down his prominent nose, the lines on his face leading you to his mouth, pencil mustache, full lips over a strong chin. You’ve been eyeing him for months now, every time he visits the kiosk, but somehow the change in lighting, the change in atmosphere, gives him a magnetic, almost preternatural aura.

A smile tugs at his lips then and you panic for a moment that he might have read your thoughts, that you must have been staring. You quickly avert your gaze, downing way too much of the wine to keep up a graceful appearance.

“Can I offer you some food? Some cheese, perhaps?” he asks.

“Actually, I should um… I should head home,” you say, already feeling a little lightheaded. “It’s late and I have a shift tomorrow.”

“Take the bottle,” he says.

“What? No– That’s–”

“Grappolino, I want you to have it. Don’t insult me by refusing a gift.”

You’re not sure what the name means, something with grapes, probably, but you’re too flustered now to pay much attention. When he hands you the bottle you blindly take it, uttering a few words of thanks. He remains steady, unbothered, which you assume is a good thing. He’s not truly offended. You wonder if anything could shake him enough to break his measured temper.

“I will see you at the donation?” he asks when you slip from your stool.

“Yes. I will see you there,” you promise. “I can’t wait to give you my blood.”

He chuckles, a foreign sound coming from the depths of his throat. Without looking back up, you grab your bag and almost rush out of the bar. The cool night air slaps you in the face like a whip, clearing your head and senses from the effects of the wine and its producer in mere seconds. You take a few deep breaths, pressing the cold bottle against your burning chest. If he is flirting with you then it is certainly working, if not then his mere presence affects you in ways you feel almost ashamed of. Either way, you can’t deny that the money has suddenly become a secondary motivation to visit the vineyard next week. No, there is something way more thrilling waiting for you.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Specks of dust dance in the sunlight like a thousand tiny feathers, sinking to the ground almost weightlessly. The two empty sitting rooms on the ground floor should be enough to meet the demand that Secondo expects for today. Everyone who donates their blood gets a voucher for the Vinothek and fifty euros cash on hand. The incentives promise a high yield, enough to fill every pre-order as well as the glasses of his special guests once the blood “wine” is ready to be served.

To his chagrin, all the ghouls are busy renovating the guest rooms, and so Terzo is the one helping him prepare the localities. The partnering hospital has sent a truck with enough donation chairs to line the walls opposite of the south-facing windows of the two rooms, granting a nice view over the vineyard. Come sundown, the ghouls will handle the donations. With their monk-like appearance Secondo hopes the people will be trusting. All the bureaucratic hassle, all the licenses and administrative obstacles better be worth it.

“So, how many times do we have to do this?” Terzo asks, rolling another chair into the room.

“This will be the first harvest, another one in September,” Secondo says. “We will keep sixty percent of donations, the rest goes to the local hospitals. It should give us enough to last over the winter if the demand is stable. Then we continue in spring.”

“Mhm and you’re looking forward to tasting the blood of someone special?”

Secondo’s gaze snaps up in a withering look. “Are you eavesdropping on me?”

“It was hard to avoid, fratello. After I finished my wine I had to use the bathroom and it is so close to the bar, no?” He shrugs, smiling to himself. “Now, what happened to Mr. I-don’t-fuck-humans?”

“Who said anything about sexual intercourse?”

“Sexual intercourse?” Terzo repeats. “That’s not a very romantic word. Not very sexy either.”

“I am not looking to fuck, I am looking for a food source.”

“So you want to sample their blood today?”

“Yes.”

“What makes you think it’s good? Why are they special?”

Secondo has no answer to this. Instead he pushes his sunglasses up his nose, adjusts his gloves, biding time. When he finally meets Terzo’s curious gaze again, he shrugs. “I have a feeling.”

“Where exactly is this feeling located? Just below your belt?”

He heaves an annoyed sigh. He won’t grace with him a reply to this, maybe even because he knows that there is a certain truth to his brother’s words that he would rather ignore. There is just something about your smell, about your presence, your positive aura, the warmth in your eyes, that wakes a certain hunger in him. Sexual or not, Secondo knows that he needs to taste your blood.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

The mansion is just as impressive as you remember from your last visit years ago, throning over steep hills with neat rows of lush grapevines. The sight takes your breath away as you carry your already tired body towards the open entrance gates of the estate. A grand, majestic building sits partly hidden behind two tall beech trees with their voluminous crowns, U-shaped, well-kept and exuding the impressive historic atmosphere of centuries past. Ivy and vine tendrils crawl up the high walls on either side, hiding some of the rich ornamentations of the façade that are partly embellished in gold.

You leave the winding trail through the landscape, your muscles burning from the steady uphill climb, and enter a spacious, stone-flagged courtyard. An almost Mediterranean ambience welcomes you – old wine barrels have been stacked in one corner, beautifully planted with lush flowers and shrubs like a small magical garden. A small outdoor sitting area dominates another corner, shielded from the sun by a pergola that’s overgrown with more vine tendrils. Terracotta planters scattered around the open space house even more greenery and the whole area smells richly of herbs and pollen.

You soon spot a sign with a red arrow, the words blood donation written underneath, leading into one of the side entrances. An old chair secures a wooden door that opens into a cool but gloomy hallway, flagged with old stone tiles that remind you more of a castle than a stately home. You’re met with voices chattering in the rooms on either side – it seems busy. Glancing into one, you spot a small reception area and decide that this is where you must be registering for your donation. One wall of the room is lined in medical chairs, almost all of them occupied by donors with black-robed men that remind you of monks tending to them.

You are greeted by one of them, only not with words but a gentle nod as he guides you through another door. Inside is a small office where a pale but kind-looking doctor receives you. After a short talk he clears you for donation and you’re assigned one of the chairs near the entrance. One of the black-hooded men approaches. He really must be a monk, you decide, doing charitable work. Perhaps Mr Emeritus has connections to the church – it would make sense if he is veering into the philanthropic lane now. So many religious orders have their own humanitarian organizations who offer volunteers in the field of medical care, maybe he even has his own. You don’t question the process as everyone else in the room seems comfortable.

The monk does not speak to you when he prepares your arm but he is certainly skilled as he slides the sharp needle through your skin and into your vein. You hardly feel any pressure and as the tube fills with your blood, you start to relax in your seat. He hands you a black rubber stress ball, mimicking how you’re supposed to squeeze it to your palm to increase the blood flow. For the next ten minutes you stay exactly like that, your arm outstretched and your fingers wrapped around the squishy toy. Time passes fast, an older lady begins to chat with you before she is done and leaves you to yourself. Once your bag is filled, the monk removes the needle and expertly wraps up your arm. You don’t see where he carries the bag as he leaves through another door.

With your donation complete, you first sit and then stand up, cautiously stretching out your limbs as to not overwhelm your circulation, following the lady’s advice to take it easy. Another sign in the hallways indicates that there is a sort of break room with snacks and drinks, so you decide to head there and wait until your body has recovered. The sudden change of light and temperature as you leave the sunny and warm sitting room does you no favor. Suddenly your head begins to swim, an icy cold wrapping around your body like a blanket of snow. Your fingertips tingle, cold sweat spreading over your back and then you’re sinking, falling–

“Careful,” a steady voice says and instead of the cool stone floor you hit a soft, strong body. Your vision is blurry but you clearly see the outline of black sunglasses over a strong nose and then those soft, full lips. The man cradles you against him, sitting you down with his knee supporting your back. “I need you to lie down, grappolino. Do I have permission to carry you?”

You nod, not quite sure what is going on as your brain struggles to cling to the world around you.

“It’s you,” you whisper when he gathers you in his arms like you weigh nothing at all.

He carries you down the hallway, the sudden movement only making you dizzier until you feel like you have to throw up. “It is me,” he says at length. “Do not worry, little dove, I will take care of you. I will take care of you forever.”

You close your eyes at the sound of his soothing words, spoken in such a deep but somehow soft voice that caresses your ears like the gentle touch of a lover. Comforted, you rest your head on his shoulders, breathing out a tired sigh, and drift off.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

“This is the right bag?” he asks, even though he can smell it through the plastic and antiseptic layers surrounding it. The same scent he detected from your arm when he carried you upstairs, a scent that already has his nerves on edge with an appetite that he can hardly contain.

The ghoul nods and Secondo shudders as he cradles your blood in his hands. What a beautiful red, richer than any wine he ever made. He takes off his sunglasses to admire how it moves when he flexes his gloved fingers, the texture so smooth, almost silken. Saliva gathers in his mouth and for a moment he forgets the presence of the ghoul.

Impatient now, he looks up to dismiss him. “Grazie.”

He’s already in the kitchen when the door closes, ripping open cabinets in search of a glass. But his body is on fire, burning, longing, craving. He feels like a starving man, like an addict in search of a fix, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s abandoned his search. With both hands he takes the bag and sinks his fangs into the plastic, penetrating the material until he can finally taste you. A deep, rumbling moan breaks from his chest as the first drop of blood meets his tongue. It’s not enough. He bites harder until more of the liquid spills out. Secondo drinks like he has never drunk before. Any attempt at savoring it is in vain. He can’t remember the last time he lost control like this, gulping it down with a greed that would make Lucifer proud, an unquenchable thirst. Your blood is infernal, drinking it an unholy sacrament, the closest he has felt to his faith in decades since leaving the Church. More and more he sucks into his mouth until it dribbles down his chin and onto his sleek white shirt, the one he ironed before knowing that he would meet you today. He rips it from his chest as soon as the bag is empty and the taste starts to fade. Impatiently he sucks at the stains until the aroma finally escapes even his hyper sensitive taste buds.

He’s a wreck. The smell lingers in his nose long after he’s licked the last remnants from his gloves. He sinks to the floor, shamefully gathering the last few drops of blood he spilled and bringing them to his searing, ruined tongue. A pathetic, shameful whimper escapes him and he has to sit in quiet solitude for several minutes until he manages to gather his wits. This is embarrassing, he decides. He has to get cleaned up and dressed.

Secondo enters his bedroom where he brought you to rest a mere ten minutes ago. The sight of your innocent form sleeping in his bed nearly sends him into another frenzy, your neck exposed over the collar of your shirt and practically begging for his mouth. He stands and looks at your weak body, watching your eyes twitching behind their lids, even if they stay closed. For now he is sated enough to stay in control, pushing any animalistic thoughts to the side. You’re beautiful, such a lovely young human, sleeping in the bed of a bloodthirsty monster. The thought makes him chuckle. Perhaps human prejudice against vampires is not that unfounded, even if he usually thinks of himself as a rather sophisticated specimen.

He allows himself another moment of silent reprieve, his eyes roaming your peaceful form without his glasses now. Eventually he brings himself to take a quick shower in the en-suite, freshening up, more cologne, less blood to spook you. He decides on a simple dark green polo shirt, showing off his arms. As he splashes his face with water, he can’t help but wonder what is happening to him.

Your taste is unlike any he has ever experienced before. If he sold it in bottles, even watered down, everyone would flock to his business. But just the thought of sharing you with any other vampire makes him recoil in disgust, the hair on his arms standing up in defiance. It is an entirely new sensation, entirely unwelcome, and yet he can’t shake it. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do about these intrusive feelings, about his lack of control, the possessiveness that overcomes him in your presence. He’s not even sure if he can trust himself to be near you.

But even so he knows that he cannot let you leave. Not anymore.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

You dream of him.

The outlines are blurry, a room that feels dark, the lights blended out and only coming in through cracks that won’t allow your eyes to focus. Then his handsome face comes into view. Your vision clears for just a moment. Blood covers his face. Not his face. His mouth. His eyes are weird, one is a dark red and one is incredibly pale, the strong brows above drawn tightly together. His gaze is intense, a hunger, a craving reflected in his glowing irises. You’re scared for just a moment but then his expression changes, a sudden tenderness glossing over the harshness of his features and the red eye turns to an emerald green. He looks quite beautiful like this, even with the blood covering his mouth. Especially with the blood covering his mouth.

When you break free from the tight grasp of your hazy dream and open your eyes, his face is right there. You startle, your slow heartbeat suddenly jumping into a sprint, but there is no blood, no discolored eyes, just his sunglasses as he pushes them up his nose.

“Don’t be scared, grappolino,” he says from the edge of the bed. “It is just me.”

You nod, blinking yourself awake. Your head hurts, a low thrum that penetrates your skull like a fly repeatedly hitting a window.

“Do you remember what happened?”

You sit up slightly, propping the pillow up behind you and the way it hurts, the pressure and numbness in the crook of your arm, brings back your memories. “I donated blood.”

“You did. And you fainted,” he explains. “This is my own private bedroom.”

“Do… do all the patients get this treatment?”

A chuckle. “No.”

Heat rises to your chest and you avert your eyes. They are immediately drawn to his bare arms, to the dark hair covering them before his gloved hands appear in your peripheral vision. The polo shirt suits him, a dark green color, the cut accentuating the solid shape of his shoulders. A tuft of dark chest hair peeks out of his open collar and you can see his nipples through the fabric. It is cold in here, you realize. Or perhaps your goosebumps have a different origin.

“I brought you something to drink,” he says, lifting a dark glass bottle he must have set down beside the bed. The distraction is imminent. You eye it curiously, a frown settling on your face.

He can’t possibly be offering you wine right now?

“Grape juice,” he states.

“Oh.”

You feel silly now, maybe your brain is still not fully awake. He opens the screw and fills a glass that was previously set down on the bedside table. When he hands it to you, the tight bandage on your arm hinders you yet again from moving freely and you have to hold out your other hand instead. Mr Emeritus is patient, waiting until you’ve taken the first few sips before he stands from the bed.

“I will bring you some food, little dove. We need to increase your blood sugar, give you some energy. In the meantime you will be good for me and drink your juice, yes?”

His words make you choke on your spit and you cough uncomfortably into the burn. “I ugh… I will. Thank you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smile but it’s enough to have you flustered. You take small sips of the juice that, just like his wine, feels smooth on your tongue and has a rich, intense flavor. It warms your belly, brings life back into your limbs and other parts of your body. You’d be good for him in so many different ways if he let you.

That thought makes you abruptly realize that you’re in his actual bed. You use the chance to properly look at the spacious room surrounding you. It is furnished rather simply, heavy dark curtains cover most of the windows but even with most of the light locked out you can’t see anything beyond the huge canopy you’re resting on. You’re draped between dark green cotton sheets that must have an incredibly high thread count with how soft they feel underneath your fingertips. The dark wooden bed frame is kept upright by four artfully carved posts, solid and dominating the room, the drapes tied to them with rope. You spot two doorways – one is closed, the other slightly ajar. The wall next to the open door is home to a huge painting, the edge of the gold frame shimmering in an odd ray of light that breaks through a gap in the curtains. You don’t know the artwork, it seems to be a dark one, mostly covered in shadows now, but you think it must be a religious subject because you can make out monk-like figures, a goat, a building that resembles an old abbey.

“You walked here?”

Mr Emeritus reenters the room, carrying a tray as he pushes the door open with his black leather brogues.

“Ugh, yes. Is that bad?”

“You cannot walk back,” he decides. “No one is available right now to drive you and I cannot leave before we are done with donations. I suggest you stay and rest.”

“As in… stay the night?”

“One of our guest rooms should be finished by now. You can stay there.” A pause as he settles back beside you and places his cargo in your lap. On the tray you find a basket with a few slices of bread, ciabatta from the looks of it, a plate with a small piece of butter, two different wedges of cheese, a bunch of grapes and other fruit. It looks delicious. “I hope this is to your liking.”

“It looks wonderful, thank you.“ You look from the tray to him. “You’re not from the area originally, are you?”

“No, I am not from the area. Does that matter to you, grappolino?”

“No, you just… you don’t look like you belong here,” you finally say, popping a grape into your mouth. “You should be in… I don’t know, Rome, Paris. Or Tuscany, maybe. Why did you bring your business here? Just because of the vineyard?”

“The mansion has been in possession of my family for a long time,” he says. “I always had an interest in wine making, so I took over when the previous tenant expressed his wish to retire.”

“So you actually chose to live in the middle of nowhere?”

“I enjoy the quiet and solitude.” He cocks his head to the side. “And besides, so do you.”

“Hm, touché.”

You eat as much as you feel comfortable with. He watches you throughout your little meal and while it unsettles you you’re more than willing to accept his hospitality. You promised to be good for him after all and you don’t intend to break that promise. Once you’re done he relieves you of the tray and sets it down on the floor. He gives no indication that he wants to leave.

“Do you feel better?” he asks instead. “Let me feel your pulse.”

You don’t object when his gloved hand reaches for yours. The leather feels thick, sturdy, which makes his hand look huge when it surrounds yours. But then he seems to make a last minute decision to remove the gloves, revealing pale but strong hands, dark hair trailing from his knuckles down to his arm. His fingers are cooler than you expect even though there is a warm glow pulsating underneath his fingertips. Your heart immediately begins to hammer in your chest, rapidly beating against its cage of bone and skin. This will not be a useful measuring, at least not if he’s trying to anticipate your health.

Perhaps his train of thought is similar, for his eyes search yours the moment he feels the increase. The corner of his mouth pulls up slightly and his thumb gently strokes over your wrist. You’re quite incapable of looking away, even through the sunglasses there seems to be a sort of shine in his gaze. If only you could properly see them, not just their shadowy outlines. Sparks fly just below your skin, sending shivers through your whole body.

“You seem livelier to me,” he concludes. “Perhaps some more sleep will do, hm? I will have your rooms arranged, you can stay here for the time being.”

“I have a question,” you pipe up before he can leave, a hint of embarrassment laced into your words that you can’t quite hide. “Am I still getting the money?”

“The money?”

“The fifty euros.”

You’re acutely aware of his thumb still stroking your wrist, so softly that it tickles. “You will, grappolino. But there is… something I want to talk to you about. I was going to wait but perhaps now is a good time, no? Before you are too tired again.”

“What is it?” you ask.

“I want to offer you a job.”

Your eyes widen, the words so unexpected. “A job?”

“I need an employee for the Vinothek. Wine tastings take place on Friday nights every few weeks and I need someone to take over the regular business as I take care of them. The rest of the time you can help out in the vineyard. We have a few important events soon where we introduce new varieties, some international guests will come to visit and there is a lot to do until then.”

“Are you sure this is… not just a pity job offering?”

“No,” he states so matter-of-factly that all your questions vanish. “I can use two extra hands and a sharp brain. I will double your current salary and you can move into your own quarters here for no extra cost. I will make sure your rooms are to your liking.”

You let the thought sit for a moment. Double your salary? Living in an actual mansion in the midst of beautiful wine hills? You wonder what the catch is, if he’s just going to fire you once fall is over or if he’s going to give you all the most horrible tasks he can think of. Even so, for that much money you wouldn’t mind cleaning toilets, sweeping the floors or brewing his morning coffee. It’s not that different from what you’re doing right now anyway.

“Of course there will be no eh… bad blood if you say no.”

“That seems exceptionally dumb,” you say, cringing a bit at your words. “What I mean is, that’s a… a tempting offer. It’s one that sounds too good to be true, actually. It’s just… I don’t know much about wine.”

“I can teach you all that you need to know, grappolino, non preoccuparti,” he says, his voice deeper and almost sultry. His thumb presses into your pulse then, drawing a line along the vein in your forearm until he stops just below the crook of your arm. Then he seems to snap out of whatever thought occupied his mind and pulls away. “Think about it. I do not expect a reply right away.”

You nod, missing his fingers on you already. When he finally leaves the room, you sink back into the soft mattress and imagine what a life here would be like. The offer is too good to refuse and your undeniable crush on Mr Emeritus urges you to agree even more, no matter how foolish it would be to pine after your employer. Subconsciously you bring your thumb to the wrist he just held, mimicking his touch. You think you might die if you don’t feel his hands on your body again. Perhaps he was right, perhaps you would like to explore all the different ways of sinning that he mentioned to you, and perhaps you would very much like him to take part as well.

July

Even though you’re still not quite sure what to make of the masked and hooded monks living in his home who never seem to speak, you accompany them to pack up your belongings. They follow all of your requests and directions without question, treat your things with utmost care and make sure nothing gets lost. What is even more astounding is how they carry even the heaviest of boxes filled with books without any visible strain. Most of the furniture you won’t need anymore is quickly sold or gifted to people on eBay and in the span of one afternoon, all you need is neatly packed into boxes that are now stacked in your new quarters.

You’re not quite sure how he did it but Mr Emeritus handled your job transition quite seamlessly. Your old boss agreed immediately, at least that’s what he told you, and a day later you signed all the necessary paperwork. It gives you a whole day off to familiarize yourself with your new living situation. All morning you unpack boxes, sort books into shelves, clothes into drawers. Your quarters are bigger than anticipated. A decently sized sitting room with beautiful antique-looking green sofas leads into a wide, canopied bedroom that has an en-suite bathroom as well as a walk-in closet.

You are free to use the impressive kitchen downstairs and really, you still haven’t found the catch in the whole arrangement. In search of a cup of afternoon tea, you make your way exactly there, hoping that the pantry is stocked since you’re pretty sure Mr Emeritus has his own private kitchen somewhere else in the mansion. This morning, when you picked up a cup of coffee, he was nowhere to be seen and no dishes or any other evidence betrayed that he was down here.

When you enter the room now, you spot someone else – a raven-haired head stuck in the fridge. The man looks like he just woke up, wearing grey sweatpants and a purple dressing gown. When he turns around, you notice that his upper body is naked and for a moment you’re not sure where to look. The sweatpants barely conceal the outline of his cock and his bare chest and the soft pouch of his belly are covered in thick black hair. A few small tattoos litter his pale skin, an upside down cross underneath his ribs, two more symbols you don’t recognize just above the dip of his hips. His face seems familiar, broad and handsome, beautifully aged with lines that bring out his strong features, bushy dark eyebrows over eyes that… You halt for a moment. One of his irises is green and the other is white, just like the ones you saw in your dream. Heterochromia is nothing new to you, but for an eye to be this pale?

“Oh, buon pomeriggo,” he says with an openly flirty smile. “We have not met yet, I believe?”

“Uhm... no. I don’t think so.”

“You can call me Terzo.”

You give him your name as well, introducing yourself as a new employee. Before the man can say anything else, steps resound behind you and Mr Emeritus appears in the doorway, eyeing him with barely concealed disdain. “Am I interrupting, fratello?”

“Oh, we just met,” you explain. “I wasn’t aware there was anyone else living here.”

“This is just my brother,” he states. “Don’t mind him, he is ugh… hanging around.”

Terzo scoffs dismissively. “I am actually also working here–”

“I thought you were not my new bellhop, fratellino?”

“I help with the guest room renovations. Really, I am the eh… interior designer, you could say.” He grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips with a smirk. “Anyway, it is a pleasure to meet you, tesoro. How lovely to have a youthful presence in this old house.”

“Likewise. I actually wasn’t aware this was a hotel also.”

“It is not,” Mr Emeritus explains, taking a few steps into the room now. He looks incredibly handsome today, wearing his usual black slacks as well as a black button down shirt, sleeves rolled up and the collar open just enough to reveal some of his chest. “We are going to host some of the guests who submit to long travels in order to attend the wine tastings. Now, I was looking for you. I think you need a tour of this place, grappolino, no?”

Terzo dismisses you with a gentle smile, waving after his brother when you both leave the kitchen. Mr Emeritus briskly walks ahead, leading you down a long hallway.

“Were you going to eat?” he asks. “I interrupted.”

“No, I wanted a cup of tea. But I can just have that later.”

He hums, then leads you up a staircase to show you where the guest rooms are going to be located. You see some of the monks again, carrying furniture, painting walls, cleaning rugs. They don’t acknowledge your presence, only step aside when you pass.

“Mr Emeritus–” you start.

“You can call me Secondo,” he interrupts. “Since you are already calling my brother by his first name.”

You’re not sure if you’re imagining the hint of jealousy tainting his voice. He certainly did not look too pleased when he entered the scene earlier. “Secondo and Terzo,” you say. “Like the numbers?”

“My father was not very creative when he procreated like a dog in heat. He argues that he followed an old Italian tradition which is just convenient, no?”

You make a mental note that his father is not a good subject to broach just as he leads you back into the main staircase. “Can I ask you something else?”

“I understand you must have many questions. Feel free to pose them whenever you wish.”

“Well, the biggest one I have is… uhm…” You pause but he does not seem bothered at all. “Who are the hooded men? They look like monks but also not like any real monks I’ve ever seen before.”

“They are something similar.”

“Like a cult? Is that why they don’t talk?”

“No, grappolino, not a cult. We call them the Nameless Ghouls.” His voice is even and patient considering the amount of questions you’re shooting at him. As you walk down the stairs you notice that he is not even remotely out of breath while you’re already struggling to keep up. “They are bound to certain rules of their community such as to not speak to outsiders. They work for me because they were summoned to do so for which I am very grateful. I have arranged one of the former guest houses on the property where they live amongst themselves.”

You furrow your brow, a little confused as to how much of a red flag that should be for you. Ghouls, the religious painting, the upside down cross on his brother’s chest… it does seem suspiciously like a cult. His pace is so fast that you almost stumble down the stairs now. “Do I… do I also have to join them?”

“Oh, no, non preoccuparti. They have nothing to do with you.”

“So they just… help out here?”

“Sì. They make all of this possible.”

“I mean, if they want to live like that, I guess that’s okay.”

He stops in the middle of the staircase. You almost stumble into his strong back, catching yourself on the railing just in time. “I assure you it is all consensual, grappolino. They are free to leave and do as they please. Just like you. Nothing here happens without great enthusiasm.”

You look at him, toying with the hem of your shit nervously now that his gaze is back on your body. Enthusiasm does not sound like he is talking about work but at least it also doesn’t sound like a cult. “This word, is it a good thing?”

He chuckles. “It is a… how do you say? Pet name?” Suddenly he takes the step that separates you, inching closer until his face is right in front of yours. “Do you want me to stop?”

Your eyes widen. “Oh, no. No, I like it. I was just wondering… is it a common name?”

“No, it is not common.”

You stare through his glasses, trying to make out the expression in his eyes. Is he flirting with you? Is he making fun of you? The tension is unbearable but you cannot be sure if he feels it as well with half of his face hidden from your sight. You have half a mind to take the glasses from his face.

“If you follow these stairs all the way down,” he finally says, stopping you from any foolishness, “you will reach the wine cellar. It is the door at the bottom, right next to the main entrance.”

“That’s… that’s where all the treasures are kept?”

His mouth curls into a rare smile. “Not all the treasures.”

“Can I ask another question?”

“Certo.”

“Do you have the same eyes as your brother?”

He cocks his head to the side, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “You will have to find out, grappolino.”

You swallow, about to take a foolish step closer to him when he suddenly backs away. His face is out of reach before you can even attempt to rid him of the sunglasses and he’s halfway down the next flight of stairs when you finally catch yourself.

“Now let me get you some tea and some food also,” he calls, not even making sure whether you’re following. “You have to eat a lot of iron and vitamins to increase blood production. We don’t want you to get anemic, hm?”

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Vampire Gazette 02/07

A group of rogue werewolves attacked two unsuspecting vampires in the Styrian mountains last Monday. The perpetrators fled the scene after they did not manage to kill their victims and attracted the attention of a nearby group of vampires. Both victims fully recovered in the span of two days while further circumstances of the incident still escape the authorities. Unnamed sources claim that one of the vampires is an old acquaintance of Primo Emeritus. Since last Wednesday, speculations on Social Media suggest that the incident could be connected to the death of a lycanthrope in May in which the former Papa was supposedly involved. Neither the authorities nor the Emeritus family were willing to give statements to confirm or deny these rumors.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Secondo is not proud of slipping into your room that first night. He’s not proud when he sees you sleeping so peacefully, trusting that you are safe in his care. You look lovely, young, the picture of innocence and trust. A human so lively, so curious and quick-witted. There is an intelligence in you that is way beyond your years and maybe it is the very reason why you so foolishly trust him – you’re not superstitious.

Before he drinks from you, he inspects your quarters. Sheer curiosity, he tells himself, he always liked to learn. Your bookshelves are filled with all sorts of genres – classics, romantic novels, thrillers, horror, historical fiction, non-fiction. What is most telling however are the books on your bedside table. He finds the same copy of Carmilla you carried in your bag, a book about wine making you must have recently ordered and another book that looks suspiciously like a cheap erotic novel. Maybe not so innocent, he thinks, wondering how he would find you if he came in here a few hours earlier, just before your bedtime.

Secondo is not proud when he slips into your room again a few days later. He’s not proud when he does it again and again and again until one day he notices the first signs of anemia in you and gives you a week of reprieve that has him shaking like an addict. At least he found the strength to be careful now, exerting the control he lacked when he tried that first bag of blood, barely puncturing your neck with one of his fangs and drinking as slowly as your blood flow dictates. He does not want to hurt even a hair on your head, does not want you to wake up the next morning with a wound like an animal attacked you and get suspicious. No, he needs you to stay here and stay well, a source of food, a source of joy.

Still, the moment he drapes himself over your sleeping body and your blood hits his tongue it takes all of his strength to stay calm, to suppress the moans spilling from his lips, to stop himself from growing hard against your sleeping body and humping you like a horny teenager. Just a late night drink, nothing else, a meal to sustain him throughout the night. The restraint he displays is impressive even to him. It goes against all of his predatory instincts that tell him to simply drain you, to consume you until you have nothing left.

No, Secondo is not proud of any of it. And he slowly starts to realize that it is not stealing your blood that affects him in such a way that he struggles to keep his eldritch powers measured, to ensure that you stay asleep when he feeds. The kiss of a vampire can be impactful even for the vampire himself, at least when other feelings are involved. So no, it is not your blood that breaks his resolve, that makes it so hard to treat you like any other food source.

It’s the feeling of your skin against his lips.

August

Every day in the vineyard feels like a dream.

You never realized how much your job at the kiosk and living in your tiny flat with nothing but the bare essentials had drained you of the joy of living, how it had put you into a sluggish rhythm of loneliness and unfulfilling work – not until you started to see a different life for yourself, that is. Perhaps Secondo was right when he told you to try out different ways to enjoy yourself all these months ago, perhaps he saw how stuck you were before you got here. Your growing crush on him certainly helps to envision a happier future for yourself in this place.

Your favorite thing are the quiet afternoons with him. Usually, you never see Secondo or his brother before two o’clock. It seems like they are night owls – it is not a rare occurrence that you spot light underneath his office door well into the late hours when you head to the kitchen to grab a cup of tea. In the mornings, you get most of your work done, usually helping out with wine orders that the Nameless Ghouls pack and a post truck picks up around noon. In the evenings, you help out at the Vinothek, taking care of the shop or waiting on people while Secondo tends the bar. But the afternoons? The afternoons are priceless.

Secondo and you usually get comfortable underneath the pergola in the mansion’s courtyard. While he prefers to sit in the shade you have opted for a sunny spot. First you share a break with some afternoon coffee for which his brother usually joins you, then, once Terzo leaves, he starts to teach you everything he knows about wine and wine making. As expected, he is a most patient teacher who takes great delight from your genuine interest in the subject. Today, he is talking to you about different grape varieties and their differences in taste.

“Sangiovese is a red variety,” he explains. “Very common and the base for many wines that I have shown you, grappolino. Chianti, for example.”

“Like in the Silence of the Lambs.”

“Sì, like that one.”

“Have you ever had it with liver?”

“You see, my dove, Chianti is actually not a good wine to have with liver. Amarone would be much better suited, or some lesser known ones. Dr Lecter would have known that, in the book he did.”

You have to smile at that. Of course he would take note of such things while watching a movie or reading a book. While he continues on his lecture on Sangiovese, you breathe in the rich scents that waft over the courtyard, carried by a gentle summer breeze. For a moment you turn your face into the sun, letting the warm rays caress your features. Mild summer days are your favorites, being outside in a simple shirt without freezing or sweating too much. When you turn back, you notice Secondo watching you. When you smile at him he cocks his head to the side, still observing you without shame. As though he only notices now, he suddenly turns away and reaches into his pocket. When his hand comes back into view it holds a silver flask and he makes a face when he takes his first sip.

“Not good?” you ask, chuckling.

He shrugs, giving a dismissive hum. “I am… used to drinking better things these days.”

“What’s in it?”

“A new drink I have been working on. I try to sample it throughout the day.”

“Can I try?”

“No, grappolino, it is not ready for that yet.”

“You will tell me when it is, though?”

He smiles, a genuine, almost soft smile that you see on him more often now when you’re just among yourselves. “I will, little dove. You are always so eager to learn and try new things.”

The compliments he gives you, if rare, are always meaningful. They manage to fluster you every single time and you subconsciously start to scratch at your neck again. This has been going on for some time now – a few mosquito bites that never stop tingling and as soon as you touch them they start to torment you.

Secondo eyes you, brow furrowed, as if to ask why you’re fidgeting so much. The itch won’t leave, however. At this point it’s hard not to just give in and scratch until it’s bleeding and hope that it will just heal off.

“Mosquito bite,” you explain. “I’ve had them since I got here. Somehow they love to drink from my neck.”

“It is a very tender spot, no? Well supplied with blood.”

“Hm, I think so.”

You scratch until it hurts, then you force yourself to stop. Meanwhile, a distant noise becomes louder and louder until a truck enters the courtyard. Its loud beeping as the driver turns around and goes into reverse hurts your ears to the point where you cover them.

“Oh, I quite forgot about that,” Secondo says and stands up.

You watch from the pergola how a few of the Nameless Ghouls appear and carry boxes as well as barrels of wine outside loading the truck. Secondo further rolls up the sleeves of his button down shirt to help, carrying boxes until there is not much space left. The Ghouls bring three more barrels and you watch in utter fascination when Secondo picks one of them up like it weighs nothing more than a feather, placing it inside the cargo area. A minute later the truck takes off to his destination and the Ghouls disappear.

“This… was this a full barrel?” you ask, still in shock, the moment Secondo joins you again.

“Oh, no, of course not.”

“Why would you deliver an empty one?”

He eyes you, sitting down, not even out of breath. How is he so fit? You never see him working out. “Always so many questions, grappolino. So curious.”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” you say with a shrug.

“Some people buy them,” he says at last. “For eh… decoration purposes.”

You eye him skeptically. Even carrying an empty barrel would take a lot of strength. At the same time, you assume, he has been carrying boxes and barrels and heavy pieces of furniture for years now. When he reclines against his chair, you again take notice of how pale he is.

“You should wear sunscreen,” you say. “You look like the pale type that burns easily.”

“I am Italian, my dove. I am not the pale type.”

“Still, sunlight is the main cause of skin aging and skin cancer.”

“Are you telling me I look old, grappolino?”

“After you just carried all these things old is the last word on my mind that I would use to describe you, no.”

A smirk tugs at his lips but when you take out your sunscreen, waving it in front of his face, he still allows you to apply some to his cheeks, chin and forehead. You think that any excuse to touch him is worth it, even if it means acting like a mother hen to a significantly older man. Despite your inner desire, you don’t let your hands linger on his face. Touching him feels vaguely forbidden, even with his consent and over the greasy layer of sunscreen. Your shaky hands certainly betray the nervous flutter in your body and when you sit back down on your chair, your stomach is in uproar.

Yes, these afternoons are your highlights because with every day you feel like you take a precious step closer to him. And if you’re really lucky and he’s not too busy he takes you back to his private kitchen afterwards to give you your own little tastings, introducing you to flavors your tongue has never met before. One month in now, you can honestly say that the decision to come here was the best one you ever made in your life.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Vampire Gazette 04/08

Ad:

Don’t miss when the new special varieties of the world famous Papastrello wine are introduced. Now with a hint of blood and many more flavors.

What? Food, Wine, Socializing

Where? Emeritus Vineyard

When? September 29th

⛧ ✦ ⛧

It is a subtle art to manipulate the taste of blood. You have to feed your prey the right flavors of food and pour the perfect drinks down their throats to influence the aroma in just the right ways. Too much alcohol and the blood is ruined, too much sugar and it tastes like cheap supermarket wine. Secondo has refined his approach over the past centuries to match his personal preferences.

“Grappa,” he says, pushing the thin-stemmed glass in front of you. “A young one.”

You sway the glass underneath your nose, inhaling the sharp scent. There is not much you could deduce from the smell, not with your human senses, but he appreciates how you always try to use them regardless of how futile the results.

“It is distilled from the pomace after the winemaking,” he explains as he watches you nip. “Nothing goes to waste.”

You smile. “That is a very progressive view.”

“I think it is a very conservative view. Traditional, if you will.” He raises his brows, waiting for your reaction. “Do you like it?”

“It’s nice, it burns in all the good ways.”

“It used to be the drink of farmers,” he explains, filling your glass again. “Until technology progressed in the last century. The taste improved a lot, now it is very popular. I learned how to make it in Northern Italy not too long ago.”

“Were you always a winemaker?”

“No.” He does not elaborate, though his brow furrows as the ghost of distant memories tries to haunt him. The flicker is gone as fast as it came. “Come here, grappolino.”

You do, walking over to where he is sitting and stopping right in front of his chair. He grabs your hand with his gloved one, the back facing upwards before he takes some of the grappa and spreads it on your skin.

“Go on,” he says. “Take in the aroma.”

The scent that hits your nose is pleasant, much more pleasant than the taste. When you are done, looking back at him, he reaches out for your hand and brings it to his own nose, holding your gaze. His lips graze your skin when he sniffs and you think you’re about to combust, your whole body tingling nervously at the unexpected touch.

“Impurities show in the smell,” Secondo explains, remaining unfazed. “Of course, this one does not have any. It is perfect.”

“Of course,” you repeat and when he looks at you with his intense discolored eyes, you’re not sure if he meant the grappa. “So… is that true for people as well?”

His brows rise, a smile tugging at his lips as he nuzzles your hand. “Hm, I don’t smell any impurities in you.” A pause in which you stare at each other, unmoving, unblinking. “Unless they are…” His hand slides up your arm, agonizingly slow. Fingers sprawl out on your cheek, cradling your face before he taps his index finger against your temple. “In here.”

“I can’t say my thoughts are very pure when I’m around you, no.”

Your admission, so readily given, hits him like a gut punch. His cock jumps in his pants, swelling until his slacks are uncomfortably tight. It’s not like hasn’t daydreamed about making you come in a hundred different ways, about having you sprawled out underneath him in the very bed you first opened your eyes to him, to have you begging for him, showing him just how obedient and good you can be when it really counts. Right now, he wants to bend you over one of the wine barrels and have his way with you until you’re crying out his name, until every bit of boldness leaves your body and you’re at his mercy in more ways than one. He wants to teach you the sin of lust until you’re fluent in its very language.

“You’re the first human in a long time that’s tempted me,” he admits with a sigh, pulling his hand from your face. “But the sinner knows temptation when he sees it. I won’t fall, little dove.”

You chuckle, leaning further back against the edge of the table. “The first human? That sounds ominous.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “You should thank Satan for the gift of ignorance. I know you like to ask questions but sometimes it is better not to know.”

“Secondo,” you whisper and then you’re closer, your leg touching his knee. It is evident by the way your blood rushes to your face that you can see the predicament in his pants. He makes no attempt to conceal it. “I don’t know what it is that you think you need to protect me from. But I just wish… I just wish…” You visibly swallow. Then your tongue darts out to wet your lips, slowly, sensually. “If you’re a sinner, then why not sin?”

It is foolish of him to allow you to slide into his lap. Even more foolish to place his hands on your hips and pull you closer, to feel your soft flesh against his thighs. Your hands land on his shoulders, delicate, curious fingers that feel him without shame. They stay there until you sit so comfortably that you don’t need the support anymore at which point they start to travel – over his chest, down to his belly, back up over his bare forearms. The skin contact is more intoxicating than the grappa. You’re always so warm.

It is only when they reach his face that he flinches. You stop immediately, trying to meet his gaze through his glasses. He takes a deep breath. You’ve seen Terzo’s eyes, there is no reason why you would be spooked by his now. And yet–

“Please?” you whisper.

He knows that meeting your gaze with no barrier is going to bring him to his limits. It is a last safety measure, a shield to prevent you from seeing into his soul and to stop him from falling into yours. Curious, beautiful eyes who have seen way more of him than he ever wanted to bare. Still, it seems like you have softened the hard edges of his resolve. More and more of him trickles from the cracks and he can’t quite figure out how to mend the leaks.

His cautious nod is all it takes for you to take the frame of his glasses and carefully pull them off his face. You hold his gaze so bravely, even as you set them down on the table. The quiet that follows is agonizing even to him. His muscles tense and even though he tries not to blink, he’s the first one to do so.

“You do have the same eyes,” you finally whisper.

“Runs in the family.”

“Ah.”

Those soft fingertips dance along his jaw now, tracing the lines on his skin as though you’re drawing a map. He allows you to get to know his face, even allows your palm to cup his cheek when you gain more courage. The warmth spreads inside of him like a flame, kindling his deepest, most carnal desires that used to be latent for so long.

It terrifies him and yet he craves nothing more than to give into the pull of their current.

“Secondo,” you whisper, his name laced with all of your needs, and then you’re leaning in.

He already feels your hot breath against his lips, your thumb swiping along his sharp cheekbone, and he can’t help but admire your boldness. It would be so easy to give in and accept his fate, accept that he is not as immune as he thought. But to do so would be to admit to his feelings and the consequences, the pain this would cause you both, is not worth a fleeting moment of passion.

He turns away at the last second, your nose brushing against his, even as your lips miss. You pull back, looking at him with your heavy-lidded, lust-filled eyes. It takes everything in him not to grab you. Confusion ices over your features then and he uses the moment to gently push you off his lap until you land on your feet again.

“Go to bed, grappolino,” he says and to his own shame he can’t meet your eyes as the words leave his mouth.

Even so he catches the hurt of rejection that flickers over your face. He can already smell the salty tears gathering in your eyes, even as he fully turns away and starts to clean the table. Your footsteps retreat with no argument, no witty comeback, not even an insult or a sound of annoyance. He almost wishes that you would have slapped him.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

When he sneaks into your room that night dried tears stain your velvety cheeks. They present him with a feeling he has not dealt with in centuries – guilt.

He falters, thinking that he should not feed from you tonight, not after refusing your intimacy earlier when you offered it to him so willingly. And yet, perhaps even more now, he wants to feel your skin against his as if to offer you the comfort he cannot give by day. Against his better judgment he settles in bed next to you, facing you this time instead of just taking your neck from behind. You’re sleeping on your side, one cheek squished to the pillow, the other one available to him. Secondo pulls at his gloves and gently strokes along your cheekbone, gathering what little wetness remains. You’re warm. So warm.

With some effort he leans over you, finding the spot on your neck and reopening the wound with his fangs. As he begins to drink, his arm wraps around you, pulling you into a more comfortable position. It is the closest thing to a hug.

The contrast between you and him hits him with full force in that moment. He’s not sure why you’re not afraid of him. Most humans sense the presence of a vampire. Unaware as to what the threat is, they still usually feel unease or a vague air of danger. Perhaps you have no sense of self-preservation or perhaps you truly just don’t fear him. Perhaps you’re one of the few people who are unaffected, too curious for your own good.

Or perhaps you were simply made for him. Perhaps Lucifer made your paths cross for a reason.

The thought of having you, of leaning into what has been building between the two of you is terrifying but thrilling at the same time. With your blood in his mouth it is easy to imagine claiming you, revealing himself to you, bringing you into his world and showing you its magic.

He’s not sure how you sense his line of thinking but in that moment you start to shift, moving against him like you’re trying to get closer. He slips, losing grasp on his powers for just a moment but it is enough to make you rouse. You don’t fully wake but your sleep lightens and with a tired sigh you cuddle up to him, tilting your head so he has even better access. An arm wraps around his middle, fingers playing with the hem of his black shirt until they graze his bare midriff.

“Secondo,” you whimper.

It awakens something inside of him he has not felt before, not a sexual feeling but a thrum somewhere close to his heart. Need is dripping from your voice, the smell of your arousal hits his sensitive nose, and he’s sure you must be dreaming about him now. Before he knows it he has sunk both of his fangs into your neck and is sucking the blood oozing from the wound. His senses explode, the feeling of your skin on his fingertips, your taste, the way you sigh and seek out his embrace. Lust he can handle, hunger he can handle, but these feelings run deeper, digging below the surface and clawing their way into his very core.

Suddenly it’s all too much. He pulls away from your abused neck, already discolored and swollen, and the sight of what he’s done is enough to propel his overwhelm and guilt into new heights. Secondo slips from the bed and before he knows what he’s doing he finds himself back in his own bedroom. He throws his gloves to the side and stares at his shaking hands. Hands that held you not five seconds ago. Hands that are already yearning to hold you again. His body is buzzing with the need to be close to you, trying to chase the feeling he had when you clung to him, and he hasn’t felt this alive in centuries.

He slides to the ground, leaning against his bed and staring through the window at a growing, nearly full late August moon. What he should be focussing on is the Vinothek, the preparations for the event not even a full month in the future, the growing tensions with the werewolf community and the upcoming wine harvest, not playing around with his little human.

Secondo licks along his teeth, grazing his fangs, but the taste of your blood won’t fade from his mouth, no matter how many times he swallows and swallows and swallows. It remains there, a phantom of you to remind him of his folly. He knows he won’t find any peace tonight.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

When you dream of him this time, it sets your body on fire. Your imagination, in comfort or torture, brings him into your bed where he wraps himself around your body and kisses your neck with reckless abandon. It seems to last all night but at the same time you feel like you’ve only slept for an hour. Waking up is like being ripped from paradise and cast back into the raging horrors on earth. At first you think you still feel his lips on your neck but the sensation turns into a dull pain, not that of a love bite but that of a hammer repeatedly hitting your skin. You remember his rejection from last night and promptly feel like throwing up.

With your mind still stuck in the fragments of the dream, you enter your bathroom to splash your face with some cold water. The pain on your neck has reached into your whole shoulder area by now and you pause when you spot your reflection. A huge purple bruise has spread over the area around the bite. How–

It would not be the first time your body has let his frustrations out on yourself in sleep. Maybe you scratched the mosquito bite too hard, maybe that’s why you dreamed about him kissing your neck in the first place. At any rate, what you really need right now is a cup of coffee and some painkillers.

Without as much as changing you quickly head downstairs. The house is eerily quiet as usual, the morning has just begun after all and the sun is creeping up over the horizon. Every window you pass reveals a spectacular view of the vineyard with its rows and rows of wine dipped into the soft orange light of a late summer sunrise.

The sight helps improve your mood somewhat. Though that is quickly reversed when you reach the kitchen. You’re already halfway to the coffee maker when you jump after spotting Secondo sitting at the large kitchen table. His own cup of coffee sits in front of him as he reads the paper and you’re wondering if he never went to bed in the first place.

Of course he has already detected you, eying you curiously. He’s not wearing the glasses, you note, only his gloves, a simple black polo shirt that draws your attention back to his forearms. Quickly, you avert your gaze and focus on the machine in front of you, your face hot in shame for your silly attempt to kiss him as well as your dream.

“Buon giorno, grappolino,” Secondo says, closing the newspaper he’s spread out in front of him and folding it neatly. You can’t read his expression, not even with his eyes revealed to you.

“Good morning,” you say. “You are up early.”

“Sì. We get some important deliveries today.”

The noise of the espresso machine drowns out your hum of acknowledgment and briefly ends the conversation. However, Secondo’s gaze lingers on your neck and you realize that you’re still only in your loose sleeping shirt and pajama bottoms, the bruise in plain sight.

“It’s… it’s not a hickey.” You’re not sure why you’re saying it. It’s not like you could have got one in the span of the few hours that you’ve been separated. “I don’t know how I got it, probably scratched too hard in my sleep.”

He doesn’t reply, not with words, but there is something in his expression that is wholly foreign to you. His brow is furrowed, his lips slightly parted, and without his glasses you can see a range of emotions reflected in his eyes. If you didn’t know any better you’d think it’s a mixture of shame and guilt. He doesn’t stay long enough to let you see more.

September

Harvesting wine is a brutal job. That is what you’ve been told, anyway.

Hand-picking the grapes instead of using machinery protects the soil, Secondo told you, which is why the Nameless Ghouls head out every morning and every evening to gather them manually while the sun sits low on the horizon.

“The grapes have to stay cool,” he told you when you asked him why they left at four in the morning each day. “It reduces the risk of bacterial infections.”

You watch the bustle from your window, how they start at the bottom of the hillside and make their way up, row after row with buckets and containers on their backs. Once their shift is over, they bring the yield back into the courtyard where they prepare it for further processing.

It seems like they never get tired.

Most days, Secondo and Terzo either help them pick or they take care of pressing the grapes. Things stay a little awkward, at least for you. Secondo does not really acknowledge that anything happened at all and since the whole vineyard is busy with the harvest while you’re stuck in the office or in the shop, restocking shelves, checking inventory, taking care of shipments, you hardly even see him. On one hand, his rejection still hurts, but on the other hand you’re relieved that he has not fired you or had any other negative reactions to your advances. It would not be the first time you meet an emotionally repressed man who pushes you away. Not the first time you calm your anxiety by nurturing your foolish hopes that maybe one day he will find it in him to like you back.

You learn that the harvest has to go over quickly before the grapes are overly ripe. It’s no surprise when they’re done after no more than three weeks. The cold storages are filled with grape juice just like the wooden barrels in the wine cellar where it now rests, fermenting slowly over the next few months until it turns into wine.

With the harvest done, focus shifts to the upcoming tasting event. When you don’t see Secondo chasing the ghouls through the guest wing for some last minute changes to the interior, you usually know he’s busy in the wine cellar, entrenching himself in one of the back rooms which he told you are not for nosy little doves. You’re sure he’s working on his new wines, perfecting the secret recipes. He prefers to work undisturbed in silence, so whenever he is busy down there he has you stock the mini bars in the guest rooms, make floral arrangements to decorate the sitting rooms or prepare small self-made gifts for the visitors. Anything to keep you occupied elsewhere.

You’re not sure if he really wants to work in solitude or if he’s just avoiding you.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Secondo never took himself for a coward.

He is a smart, calculated man who has a few centuries of experience under his belt that help him go through life mostly unscathed. He tries to anticipate risks and act accordingly and he might come across as cold or dismissive at times because of his measured choices. He hides, he protects, he does what he has to do. But he is not a coward.

He is not a coward but since that night, he has not drunk from you.

It bears the question if avoidance and cowardice are two sides of the same coin. If he can’t win either way. The impulse to ignore an issue is not exactly familiar to him but with the event coming up, with the harvest and goings-on at the vineyard it is easy to slip into a mode of focus that pushes you away by keeping busy.

If it weren’t for that hunger.

He’s drinking enough blood from his supply to sustain him but somehow it will not sate him in the way that your blood does. Even as he works with Terzo now, preparing the rooms for the guests that are arriving today and tomorrow, all he can think about is you. It certainly does not help that your smell lingers in every single room.

“Fratello,” Terzo pipes up behind him. “Did Primo say he would bring someone?”

“Hm?”

“He’s…” His brother snorts, pressing his greasy palms against the freshly cleaned window. “I swear to Satan, he’s with a human.”

“Di che parli?”

Secondo can’t help but join him, glancing out of the window like that one annoying neighbor everyone hates, scanning the courtyard in search of his older brother. Primo’s old Bentley has been parked at the far side beneath the beech trees. His long blond hair dances in the breeze behind him as he rounds the car and opens the door to the passenger seat. Someone else steps out, not a ghoul nor anyone else Secondo has ever seen before. The person holds his gloved hand and he immediately pulls them into his arms, wrapping his deep red cloak around them. He leans down to kiss them on the mouth, tenderly, taking his sweet time as he cradles them in his arms like they’re the most precious thing in the world.

“Ma che cazzo…” Terzo whispers. “The old man found someone before I did.”

“He’s with a human,” Secondo states.

“No shit, Sherlock, eh? Not all of us are anthropophobic.”

“I am not–”

“Satana, are they going to stop making out? That’s disgusting.”

“Stop spying, stronzino.”

He practically pulls Terzo from the window and forces him to welcome their brother in the entrance hall downstairs, as respect demands. They have to wait another five minutes until Primo appears, carrying two large suitcases, the human he brought with him entering alongside. They’re young. Very young in fact. Probably around your age, he can’t help but note.

“Fratello!” Terzo greets him exuberantly, opening his arms to him. Primo barely has enough time to set down the suitcases before Terzo’s lips press to his cheeks in two loud kisses. “You look well! And you brought someone, che sorpresa!”

“I am well,” Primo says as Terzo quickly moves on to the human, taking their hand delicately in his and bringing it to his lips. Meanwhile Primo faces Secondo who is still rooted to his spot behind the reception desk. “Grazie per l’invito.”

“Grazie per essere venuto,” he replies diplomatically. “It is good to see you, fratello.”

“To be honest, we need a place to stay for a while.” He turns to his companion who has since been freed from Terzo grasp, wrapping a possessive arm around their waist with a sort of love-sick expression that Secondo has never seen on him before. “This is my little flower, my greatest treasure. I want you all to meet.”

Terzo and Secondo exchange a quick look but before they can say anything the human speaks up. “It’s nice to meet you both. Primo told me a lot about you.”

“Only good things I hope, eh?” Terzo asks.

“They know,” Primo says then. “You don’t have to hide.”

“You told them?” Secondo asks, the shock evidently woven into his voice.

“Fratello, what is going on?” Terzo’s reaction is quite similar. “Werewolves, a human?”

In that moment Secondo’s senses detect you coming down the stairs. He shushes his brothers, nudging Terzo towards the suitcases in hopes of giving the appearance of a normal check-in. The last thing he needs right now is another human finding out.

“I told you I am not your bellhop,” Terzo complains.

You round the corner, then, and they finally pay enough attention to notice you as well. Secondo can’t help but take you in when you descend to their level. His eyes find your neck, the bruise mostly faded but even so the memory of that night is clear in his mind. That appetite inside of him stirs, the urge to have his lips on your skin again to taste not just your blood but all of you.

“Oh, hello,” you say, effectively bringing his attention back to the situation at hand. “I thought I heard voices. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, grappolino.” He has to force himself to stop staring at you. “The first guests have arrived. This is our brother, Primo, and his… partner.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“And who is this?” Primo asks, shooting Secondo a knowing look before he greets you with a gentle smile. “How lovely to see a new face in these old halls.”

Secondo introduces you, not without a hint of barely concealed shame. He can feel Primo’s eyes boring into him throughout, the accusation of hypocrisy very evident in his narrowed mismatched eyes. Of course Primo would see right through him. His older brother’s senses are even stronger than any of theirs. He would not be surprised if he still smelled him on you.

“Can you find a Ghoul to carry their luggage?” Secondo asks. “I would like to have a moment with just my brothers.”

“I won’t leave my flower,” Primo says, vehemently shaking his head.

“It’s okay,” they interject, running a soft hand along his arm. “I will just start unpacking.”

It is only with a great deal of reluctance that Primo follows him and Terzo into the kitchen and leaves his little flower to you. The eldest immediately finds the kettle and brings some water to boil. Old habits die hard, Secondo supposes. Serious conversations are only to be held over a calming cup of herbal tea.

“Cos’è successo?” Secondo ask once they all sit over their mugs. “With the wolf?”

“It was not done on purpose,” Primo says. “I was protecting someone I love. That is all you need to know.”

“The human?” The word comes out with much more venom than he anticipated.

“Ah and you are here to pass judgment?” Primo asks, giving him a withering look. “You?”

Secondo presses his lips together. “Not judgment. I am trying to understand why.”

“Is it so hard for you to imagine caring about someone? To love them so much that you would kill for them?”

”No, I–“

“I am not here to be questioned,” Primo interrupts. “You invited me to an event, no? That is what we are here for. If you allow us, we would like to stay a few more days until we can move into our new home. But apart from that, I do not wish any commentary on my life.”

“You are moving?” Secondo asks. “With the human?”

“Oh, don’t mind him, fratello,” Terzo chimes in. “He is just grumpy because he fell in love with a human as well but unlike you he already messed it up. We are very happy for you and your little flower.”

“I will not have this childish conversation,” Secondo says. “There are werewolves running amok because of this, attacking our kind.”

“And they will calm down,” Terzo says. “There are a few rogues, it is not the whole community.”

“Secondo, I know you are worried.” Primo’s voice lost the defensive tone, instead it sounds much more like the caring, diplomatic voice his brother is used to. “But I don’t need your protection. If any werewolf is foolish enough to attack us, they will face harsh consequences. I will defend what is mine and I urge you to do the same.”

Secondo lets those words sit for a moment. He has never felt protective of anyone outside of the family before but now the first person that comes to his mind is you. Would he have done the same, killing a werewolf to save you? Potentially rekindling a centuries-old conflict between two communities?

The answer comes surprisingly easy.

“Did you invite Copia?” Primo asks then. “He is not here?”

“Oh, he is busy playing Dracula somewhere in the Slovakian mountains,” Terzo replies. “He said not to expect him but to send him a few bottles.”

“He is not doing well.” Primo takes a long sip of tea. “It has been half a century.”

“Until father steps down this will not change,” Secondo says. “Copia has the rightful claim to the title.”

“Well, we had this argument before and it caused a family feud that made us vulnerable in the first place,” Terzo snaps. “The old stronzo doesn’t give a shit.”

“Let’s not get into this now,” Primo says. “We are here to celebrate that your business is doing well, Secondo. It will give the community something else to talk about for a while.”

This is as long as they manage to keep Primo from going to look after his flower, leaving them to stew over their own tea mugs they won’t be emptying. Secondo struggles to grasp what he learned today. Primo – the experienced, the wisest and most reasonable of them – is in love with a human. A young, kind, lovely human. And he is happier than ever before.

But perhaps that is not what is so hard to understand. Perhaps it is the fact that Secondo wishes he had the very same thing. Primo’s words still ring inside of his head. Is it so hard for you to imagine caring about someone?

The answer is no. He knows exactly what it feels like.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

The next twenty-four hours are the busiest since you came to the vineyard. Guest after guest arrives and Secondo puts you in charge of welcoming them. You’re behind the reception desk most of the night because apparently most of them traveled through the evening hours. By twelve pm on the very day that the event takes place the last guest arrives. He is a middle aged man with dark hair and kind brown eyes, looking far more average than the rest of the guests with their fancy clothes, aristocratic features and expensive cars. He reveals his name to you and you scan the reservation, finding him at the bottom as one of the last ones to book a room. There aren’t any left, so he must have got lucky.

“That would be the blue room, sir,” you offer, handing him the key.

He eyes your neck, then, and you’re not sure what he is looking at, if he can still somehow see the faint remnants of your bruise in the dim lighting inside. Before you can apologize for your appearance, he glances away again, smiling. “Thank you, little one. The blue room sounds lovely.”

“Let me ask someone to carry your luggage, sir.”

You’re ready to ring the bell and call for a Ghoul. However, the man stops you with a wave of his hand. “Oh, not necessary. I shall carry it myself. A little workout never hurt anyone.”

“Oh, okay.”

He’s already up the stairs when you’re distracted from the encounter. Secondo strolls into the entrance hall. He does not appear nervous, despite only having eight hours left until the event begins. Right now he’s dressed in a simple polo shirt, slacks, his usual gloves and sunglasses. You love it when he looks somewhat casual, at least to his standards. Still, you can’t quite revel in his handsome appearance. Since the tasting is so close now, your anxiety has risen to an uncomfortable level. He said he needed an extra pair of hands but he never specified for how long.

“Has everyone arrived?” he asks when he reaches the desk.

“Yes, the last guest just went to his room.” You eye him as he scans the list in front of you, not even taking notice of the state you’re in. “Actually, do you have a moment?”

He looks up, then, and you freeze. Even through the glasses meeting his eyes has the heavy impact of a gut punch. You’re surprised by how gentle his voice is. “Of course, my dove. What is it?”

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry,” you ramble before you can think twice about it. “I know, we were just being a little flirty with each other and that this is very different from actually attempting to kiss you. I feel very stupid now that I… that I misread the situation and I want to apologize. I love working here and I don’t want to lose it when the event is over. I enjoy being here, spending time with you and I don’t want to leave.”

“Grappolino, who said anything about leaving?”

You’re almost crying, tears pricking your eyes like a thousand needles. “You’re avoiding me. I just assumed that when you don’t need me anymore…”

He stops you by reaching for your hand, pressing his thumb into your palm. “You do not have to worry about this right now.”

“How can I not? You’ve been acting all sorts of weird with me.”

Secondo sighs deeply and you regret bringing it up now when he’s already stressed. But then he perks up as though something caught his attention. He pulls you into the door to the wine cellar by the stairs just when you hear voices and footsteps approaching. Blindly you stumble after him, shivering when you reach the cold stone masonry downstairs where he turns on an old, dim ceiling light. Down here it smells of fermentation, wine and vaguely of must. You lean against an old table, listening to the gurgling sounds of the carbon dioxide leaving the barrels.

“You won’t go, grappolino,” Secondo says, running his gloved hand over his face until he reaches his sunglasses and takes them off. “In fact it is I who should apologize for how I’ve been treating you. For things you don’t even know about.”

You stare into his odd eyes, the white iris almost glowing in the gloomy old cellar. He takes two steps until he’s right in front of you and you feel a cold shiver of anticipation running along your spine. You haven’t been this close since the grappa incident and the smell of his cologne makes you dizzy with need.

“My dove, you did not misread the situation. I very much wanted to kiss you.” He cages you in, resting both of his hands on the table at your sides. “And I very much want to do so right now.”

“Please,” is all you can say. “Please, Secondo.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up into a smug grin at your begging tone, the lines on his hollow cheeks deepening. He leans in until your breaths mingle, until you can feel his exhales tickling your lips. “We shouldn’t,” he whispers into the tight space. “It is foolish.”

And yet he does not pull away. His hooked nose nuzzles yours as if to savor the moment for just a bit longer. You dare to reach out and wrap your hands around his strong neck, playing with the collar of his shirt. He hums when your fingertips brush the tender skin at his nape and his own hand moves to cup your cheek, looking for more contact. The leather feels soft, hiding how his firm grip keeps your head in place. His eyes are stuck on your lips and you decide to close yours, mentally tracing the line of butterflies that flutter from your belly all the way up to your throat. Another hum leaves him when you part your lips in a sigh and then his thumb pushes your jaw up, tilting your head just right before his lips capture yours.

His mouth is cooler than expected, softer too. Secondo takes charge of the kiss in a way that makes you weak in the knees. Gentle but firm at the same time he moves his lips against yours, slowly increasing the pressure. You moan softly, clinging to him as your body sinks and sinks against him. His hands move to your hips to catch you and he easily sets you down on the table, stepping between your legs until you can feel his whole front against yours. He’s already half-hard and his outline is only growing against your stomach.

You snake a hand between your bodies, cupping his length through the tightness of his slacks. Secondo groans into your mouth, pushing his tongue between your lips with urgency. You kiss back with the same hunger, swollen mouths and eager tongues exploring each other to the last crevice. When you break away, saliva drips from the corner of your mouth to your chin and he licks it off, kissing from your cupid’s bow down to your jaw.

Before you can properly recover your breathing, Secondo’s hand toys at your lips and he slides two of his fingers inside your mouth. You receive them, allowing him to press down on your tongue.

“Get them wet for me, hm?” he murmurs into your skin. “My perfect little dove. So eager, so filthy, just waiting for me to fill you.”

You suck at the digits spurred on by his praise, swirling your tongue around their length while his lips firmly attach to your neck in a bruising kiss, just like in your dream. You struggle to keep your grasp on reality, lust and pleasure overwhelming all of your senses. When he finally pulls his hand from your lips you feel horribly empty. He gives you no time before he pushes his hand into your pants, not even playing with you before he immediately slides it in deeper. He finds your opening, fingers probing and widening before he slips one inside. You keen, grasping his shoulders for support and he adds a second one shortly after. The stretch is beautiful, thick, gloved fingers that he crooks expertly to hit that sweet sensitive spot inside. You think he moans louder than you at the contact, sinking against your body for a moment as the sensation hits him.

“You…” He shudders, groans deeply into your ear. “You’re so… warm.”

He gasps when you impatiently rut against his hand, rolling your hips in sync with the movements of his fingers inside of you. He helps you along, pumping his fingers in and out of you while still kissing your neck with his insistent mouth. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper, closer, until his hard cock rubs against your front at every thrust of his hand. Secondo grunts like a wild animal and then his teeth sink into the juncture between your neck and shoulder. A stinging pain shoots through you and you cry out in surprise. The feeling is not unpleasant, on the contrary – the pain mixing with your pleasure makes you wonderfully dizzy. He must have broken the skin because there is more wetness now than just his spit trickling down your throat. Secondo startles when he feels it, breaking away from your neck, and you can see blood staining his teeth and lips. “I’m sorry– I–”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “It’s okay, I like it rough. Don’t stop.”

His lips press to yours urgently. You moan, tasting your warm blood in his cold mouth, and you push your tongue inside even deeper for more. Secondo’s movements speed up. His fingers fuck you roughly until you can’t help but clench around them. It only takes a few more flicks of his tongue against yours, a few more strokes of his fingers until you’re tumbling over the edge. The moan that breaks from your throat echoes loudly in the old stone halls and you whimper pathetically at every thrust with which he carries you through your pleasure.

You notice that his hips still hump your front in sync with the last few pumps of his hand, chasing the friction of your body. He’s grunting, his open lips pressed to the corner of your mouth before they slide down to your neck. His tongue darts out to lick the remaining blood from your collarbone, eager strokes of his tongue that leave a wet trail over your skin before his lips close tightly around the wound. Suddenly he stills, releasing a drawn-out moan stifled by your wet skin and you feel his cock jumping inside of his pants when he cums. For a moment he holds you against him, removing his fingers to wrap both of his arms tightly around you.

“Perdonami, per favore,” he whispers, pressing a thousand soft kisses along your neck. “I hurt you. I hurt my little dove.”

“Don’t apologize,” you stress. “I like it rough, I would have told you if I didn’t.”

“That’s not…” He sighs. “No, I cannot hurt you. It has to stop.”

“Secondo.” He falters at the sound of his name, frowning at you. “I liked it. Please, don’t worry.”

He takes a shuddering breath, shaking his head vehemently. “Grappolino, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You smooth out the deep line between his eyes, caressing his features with all the tenderness you feel towards him. He slowly relaxes, resting his forehead against yours. For a while you stay like that, embracing each other, breathing each other in. Your heart beats strongly against your ribs, longing to reach him. You’re not sure if you’ve ever been this happy before.

“Secondo,” you whisper, nuzzling his nose with yours. “I think I’m in love with you.”

He freezes against you, his limbs going rigid. After a moment he pulls away to meet your eyes and there is such visible confusion etched into his features. His mouth opens slightly, revealing the edges of two sharp fangs, still dipped in your blood. His eye turns from a deep red to its usual green.

Suddenly, it all begins to fall into place. Perhaps you breathed in too many alcoholic fumes down here, perhaps you’ve finally lost your mind. But the way he lapped at your blood, the way he avoids the light, the bruising around your neck, the sunglasses and late nights, how you dreamed about him with blood staining his mouth, his eye glowing red–

“Secondo!” a voice calls down the stairs. “Sbrigati!”

His head whips around and he tries to break away. You attempt to keep him there, holding onto his shoulders, urging him to stay. “Secondo, are you… are you a–”

“We have to talk later,” he says, tearing himself away from you with ease. “We have to head to the Vinothek and get ready for the guests. I will wait for you in the courtyard.”

”But–“

He won’t hear you out. Before you can say another word he’s already upstairs.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Somehow you manage to get dressed. Your legs hardly carry you upstairs, weak from the force of what just happened as well as the sudden stress added on top. With your evening outfit already neatly laid out on your bed it doesn’t take you too long to get ready but you also can’t find any calm moment to gather your thoughts. Your suspicion spreads in your mind, carrying a hint of fear but also curiosity. You’re sure you’re slowly losing grasp on your sanity. It’s impossible. You’re not superstitious, on the contrary, you’ve always relied on your thirst for knowledge, on the fact that you learn fast, that you see through things and quickly understand them. But if your notion turns out to be true, you ran into the trap of a predator with open arms and a bared neck.

Even so, your suspicion doesn’t stop your cheeks from burning when you meet everyone in the courtyard, Secondo and his brothers already waiting for you in the shade of the pergola. When his eyes meet yours you feel a pull, a need unlike any you have felt before. You can’t help but wonder if you’re being manipulated, if this is all a mirage and he’s been toying with you all this time.

Real or not, their looks for the night take your breath away. What strikes you the most is how all three of them are wearing face paints that shape their features like skulls. They’re all slightly different but Secondo’s looks the most menacing, stressing the sharp edges of his jaw and cheeks. In contrast to that of his brothers his eyeshadow is glittery, sparkling in the light that meets his face.

Suddenly you’re wondering how the thought of them being vampires has never occurred to you before. Secondo looks quite like Count Dracula himself in his white button down shirt, a green brocade vest under a perfectly cut suit jacket, an emerald green bowtie, black slacks and leather brogues that match his gloves – the same gloves that were inside of you not even half an hour ago. Terzo’s outfit is quite similar only that his shirt has ruffles, the vest is a deep purple and he’s fixed a silver brooch on his collar that bears the upside down crucifix you’ve seen tattooed on his body. Primo is wearing a crimson brocade tailcoat, his long blonde hair curled at the edges while his partner’s outfit was carefully chosen to match his. They look like they jumped straight out of a classic horror movie – elegantly menacing, aristocratic and weirdly out of time.

During your ride to the Vinothek, you’re closely pressed to Secondo’s side on the backseat of a short limousine with darkened windows, driven by one of the Nameless Ghouls. Even dressed up you feel quite out of place. His strong thigh is pressed against yours, distracting you enough that the five minutes pass quickly. You stare at his hands resting in his lap, toying with the hem of his gloves, and you wonder if he wore the same pair on purpose.

At the venue, more Nameless Ghouls arrange tables and chairs in one of the side rooms that are usually empty. You feel pretty useless while the others discuss the tasting, so you refill the shelves in the store up front and distract yourself by preparing the bar for the evening. At some point Secondo approaches you behind the counter. “You can handle the hum-” He coughs. “The evening bustle while I lead the tasting?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Thank you, grappolino.” He stops, almost reaching for your hand but pulling back just before your fingers touch. He looks like he wants to say more, you want him to say more, but his lips stay sealed. It is odd to look at his painted face, a man you thought you knew, thought you were in love with. Now it is hard to say if any of it was real.

Once the first guests arrive, you’re tasked to show them into the event location. You know the actual tasting is going to take two hours with the subsequent chance to socialize. Once the door closes you get somewhat comfortable behind the bar. Throughout the night you only have to tend to two guests, the rest of the time you spend googling everything that you can about vampires on your phone. No helpful sites pop up, only a few intense subreddits about suspected vampire sightings that only serve to confuse you even more.

About two hours later, the door to the side room bursts open and Terzo storms past. He pulls at the door of one of the wine fridges, blindly reaching for one of the bottles. Secondo follows two seconds later, closing the door quietly behind him with a deep sigh. You step aside when Terzo reaches for a corkscrew, pulling the cork out like it’s nothing.

“You don’t know if it is true,” Secondo says, leaning in the doorway.

“Well, they’re not here,” Terzo says. “They didn’t come.”

“You should be glad they did not, fratello. It spares you the pain of another rejection.”

Terzo lifts the bottle and places it at his painted mouth, taking a long swig until the paint is smudged and his lips take on a deep crimson tone. He lets the taste sit for a minute, seemingly content before he starts to empty the bottle without pause.

“Fratello, you need to calm down,” Secondo warns him. “This is a wine tasting.”

“Yeah, so? Are you supposed to be boring at those?”

“They are a more… sophisticated sort of event. Come sai.”

“What I know, fratello, is that I’m here for a good time, just like everyone else. I want to have some actual damn wine and find someone to fuck later, sound sophisticated enough?”

“Terzo,” Secondo says. “You can’t fuck or drink the pain away.”

His brother frowns, grabbing another two bottles from the fridge. “Watch me try.”

You follow Terzo with your eyes as he pushes past his brother and disappears in the other room. Through the open door you can hear the bustle of people socializing, the clinking of glasses. “Will he be okay?”

Secondo closes the door and shrugs. “This is going to cost me a lot of wine. It is not easy to get him drunk.”

“So ugh… who didn’t come?” you dare to ask.

“His ex.” Secondo lifts his hand to rub at his eyes but thinks better just before they touch his make-up. “It is a long story. Someone told him they’re with someone else.”

“Secondo,” you try, now that you have him alone. “Actually, I’ve been wondering…”

“I need to look after him before he causes a scene. Can you do me a favor and get some of the orders sorted? The bottles are in the backroom. You can pack them in the usual boxes and bring them out back where one of the Ghouls will pick them up later.”

You want to argue with him, force him to listen to you, but he seems too tense to risk an attempt now. Instead you nod. “Where are they?”

“I will bring you the forms.”

With that he disappears into the side room as well. You’re curious, maybe too curious for your own good, but you just have to risk it and slip inside as well. The sight that meets you has you gasping. All of the guests have gathered around bar tables, wine glasses filled with a deep red liquid as they eagerly chat and drink. Even in the dimmed light you realize that this is not the same wine you’ve seen served at the bar, nor does the texture resemble any of the ones Secondo had you try. No, if it’s true and they’re–

A sudden sense of terror overcomes you, even more so as you notice the first curious pairs of eyes on you that you swear are a glowing red. They don’t look real, they don’t look even remotely human, and most of all they look hungry.

“You are too curious for your own good.”

Secondo is by your side immediately, blocking your view before he ushers you out of the room. You let him carefully manhandle you until you’re outside of the door, still petrified from what you just saw, from the sudden horror fantasies your mind conjured up.

“The orders,” he says, pressing the documents into your hand before he gently cups your cheek. You’re panicking, maybe. Or perhaps you’re not breathing at all. “My dove.”

“Hm?”

“Are you alright?”

You nod, telling yourself that this can’t be true. It simply can’t. You’re seeing ghosts, your brain has taken hold of an idea and ran wild with it. This is the real world, not one of the many novels you read. Secondo is right here, looking just like always, his iris green and not glowing at all.

“I’m sorry for busting in,” you say, realizing your silly mistake now. “I just… God, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m losing my mind.”

“Grappolino, I promise we will talk tomorrow. First we have to get this done, yes?” His thumb swipes over your cheek, so gently that you decide to believe him. “I will meet you once the guests leave and we will talk about what happened today.”

“Alright.” You nod, leaning into his touch. “I’ll… I’ll take care of the orders.”

He must know of your suspicion, he must know. His eyes tell you that he’s not going to let you leave, that he has an eye on you if you want to or not. For some reason you still feel safe knowing that he’s here, his touch nothing but comforting. His nod is barely noticeable but he does let go of your face eventually to go back inside.

For a few minutes you have to hold onto the wall, slowly breathing in and out, trying to calm your racing heart. Perhaps it’s the lack of proper sleep. You spent most of last night checking in guests, only getting a few hours of rest in the early morning.

This is ridiculous, you tell yourself, vampires aren’t real.

Once you’ve recovered, you start to pack the boxes, distracting yourself with the basic, monotonous work that is packing order and updating inventory. You’ve already carried a couple of boxes outside into the alley behind the Vinothek when your sneaking suspicion grows stronger again. There is an easy way to find out whether they were really drinking blood. One way to prove to yourself that you’re overreacting.

Without thinking you rip one of the boxes back open. The bottles look like any other wine bottles. Papastrello, the label says in gold-foiled lettering that is all too familiar by now. The only difference is the upside down cross that is stamped into the paper. The bottles are about the same weight, the dark glass no different from the other wine bottles you’ve seen. The only way to know for sure is to open it, to look at the wine itself.

In that moment you’re too scared to head back inside, too scared that someone is going to sense your suspicion and either laugh about your paranoia or possibly harm you for finding out what no one should know. You feel quite unhinged when you grab the bottle and smash it on the concrete of the sidewalk. What splashes out and mixes with the shards of glass is a red liquid that might be wine or might be blood, you can’t quite tell. The pale light of a full autumn moon reflects in the color, making it much paler than it looked inside. You know that you have to try it to know for certain whether it is wine or not.

It takes you a long moment of persuasion, silently debating with your inner voices until you reach out and wet your finger. On your skin, the liquid feels wrong, thicker, creamier, but also not quite like blood. You swallow your fear and bring it to your lips.

The moment your finger hits your tongue a deafening growl echoes in the street behind you. The sound is predatory, animalistic, ringing inside your ears long after it stopped. The hairs on your arms stand in alert as you turn around, expecting an aggressive dog or perhaps even a wolf straying from the woods. But what meets your eye is anything but. The creature is huge, filling the width of the whole alley with its broad shoulders and even as it cowers, resting on his two huge clawed hands, it’s almost as tall as the cars lining the main road.

The metallic taste on your tongue is forgotten the moment you spot it. Another growl and the beast jumps into action, galloping along the alley just as you scramble to your feet. Flight is hopeless, you barely take two steps in an attempt to sprint before its heavy steps are right behind you. Still you run and suddenly it seems like you’re making headway, the sounds gaining distance. You dare to turn around when you finally reach the end of the alley. What you see feels surreal, like a nightmare brought to life.

Secondo is standing between you and the monster who seems to have stopped, assessing the situation. Against all instinct you take a few steps back in their direction, watching the furry creature with its deformed but still somehow human body. Suddenly you recognize him, dark hair, the same brown eyes. It has to be the man who checked in this morning.

“You attacked the wrong human,” Secondo says. “This is not who you’re looking for.”

The creature does not seem in control of itself as it paces the road, sniffing audibly, baring its fangs to you in an attempt to intimidate and scare. Secondo stays in front of you, the image of a predator himself, but compared to the werewolf he looks small, almost fragile. Fear buries its way deep into your body. Suddenly you’re not worried for yourself anymore but for him. Your heart is hammering so fast that it echoes inside of your skull, your whole body sweating and shaking.

When the beast finally pounces, you shriek. Secondo grabs its massive arms to keep it at a distance but the werewolf tears at his clothing, ripping until its claws sink into his torso. His voice stretches into a pained scream that penetrates your whole body, deeper and deeper until you can feel it all the way into your marrow, rattling at your very core. The wolf is going to rip him to pieces in the blink of an eye. It’s going to kill him the moment he breaks his powerful hold.

You would never forgive yourself if he died because of you, if he got hurt trying to protect you. And maybe it is foolish, maybe you should let him handle the fight by himself, but you close the gap anyway until you can duck and reach into his pocket. Before you can think any of it through you’ve already sparked the flint and shoved the flame of his stupidly expensive lighter into the wolf’s fur. At first you think it is too dense to burn but then the beast starts yowling. The softer underfur has caught on fire, a disgusting sulphuric smell spreading around you. For a moment the wolf recoils in pain, letting go of Secondo who stumbles backwards. You’re trying to reach him but then the wolf deals one final blow, throwing his massive arms around his body. At the last moment, his paw smacks into your flank and pushes you down.

You land on the concrete, all breath brutally ripped from your lungs, and the intense pain of the impact explodes in your whole body. Secondo falls to the floor next to you with a heavy thud, dark non-human blood oozing from the cuts in his body. You hear more sounds as your vision slowly fades. Terzo is storming out of the back door, more people blurring into one big mass of faces behind him – and then you’re gone.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Vampire Gazette 04/09

Last night’s wine tasting at the Emeritus Vinothek ended in a brutal fight between the owner Secondo Emeritus and an unknown lycanthrope. The werewolf attacked a human employee outside of the establishment but could be stopped when the vampire intervened. He fled the scene while the other attendees took care of the victims. Both vampire and human escaped the fight slightly injured but are going to recover with no permanent damage, according to a spokesperson of the family. This is the tenth incident of violent conflict between vampires and werewolves in the past four months, following a surge of cases after the killing of a lycanthrope in May.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

“Here then, were all the admitted signs and proofs of vampirism. The body, therefore, in accordance with the ancient practice, was raised, and a sharp stake driven through the heart of the vampire, who uttered a piercing shriek at the moment, in all respects such as might escape from a living person in the last agony. Then the head was struck off, and a torrent of blood flowed from the severed neck. The body and head was next placed on a pile of wood, and reduced to ashes, which were thrown upon the river and borne away, and that territory has never since been plagued by the visits of a vampire. ”

You wake up to Secondo’s voice as he reads you the last few pages of Carmilla. Slowly noticing the world around you, you realize that you are in his bed in the mansion, the same soft white sheets surrounding your tired body that you found yourself in that first day. You keep your eyes closed, listening until the story is over.

“They always kill the vampire,” he says. “Perhaps they are right to do so.” A pause in which you hear the rustling of pages as he closes the book. “I know you are awake, grappolino.”

You turn around, opening your eyes to see him lying in bed next to you. The memories of what happened flood your brain, the way he protected you from the attack, saved you by risking his own life. You remember falling, the impact of the hit you took, and you’re surprised that you’re well, that you feel no pain other than the heaviness of your tired limbs.

“You slept almost a whole day,” he says. “I thought you might be angry with me. But I needed to watch over you.”

You take the book from his hand, running your palm over the smooth cover. Secondo looks tired, paler than usual and without the sunglasses you can see the extent of his exhaustion in his eyes. He’s wearing a dark green robe over black sweatpants, an altogether unfamiliar sight compared to his usual put together looks. No matter what happened, no matter what you now know, an intense surge of love for him floods your whole body and you can hardly shake it or push it down.

He saved you and you saved him. Everything else seems almost insignificant in that moment.

You shift so you can get closer and he watches you like a hawk, tracing all your movements. “My dove you shouldn’t move around.”

You don’t listen, you can’t, even as the soreness in your muscles makes it harder. Eventually you settle with your head on his belly, closing your eyes until the wave of emotion has crashed over you. He only seems half as frightening from here, in fact he looks incredibly soft as he gazes down at you.

“What do you think would happen,” you whisper, “if instead of killing we started loving them?”

He exhales – a pained, heavy sound that carries a distinct sadness. His expression shifts and he shakes his head, watching you with glossy eyes. “How can you say this when you know what I am? When you see what my world can do to you?”

“Because I feel it,” you say with no pause. “Because my heart screams that it does. I’m not scared.”

“Of course you are not. You never were.” His hand reaches out but he stops himself. “Per favore, may I touch you?” You press your face into the soft fabric of his robe, giving him a firm nod, and he gently strokes your hair, running his fingertips over your scalp, more to soothe himself than you. “I will never forgive myself for being late. That I missed the wolf in sheep skin because I was too distracted. When it hit you…” His hand stills and his lips press together tightly. After a moment he cradles your cheek, caressing your skin with his thumb. “I will protect you. I will never let any harm come to you, my dove. I swear it.”

You turn your face, leaning into his touch. “Why did he attack? To get to you?”

“I drank from you,” he says. “Imprinting myself on you. He must have thought you were Primo’s partner. Or perhaps he was just looking to hurt any one of us and went after the smell. There has been an ongoing conflict.”

“Vampire werewolf politics?”

A smile tugs at his lips. “Yes.”

“I’m so confused, Secondo. I have so many questions.”

“I know, my dove. I will answer them in time but you need to rest.” He sees your disappointed expression, running his hand along your lips now. “One question.”

“Your business…” you start. “Does this mean vampires don’t harm people? It’s not like they show us in all those movies? They drink from bottles and you get it from blood donations?”

He cringes slightly at your question, a painful twist, perhaps at the prospect of disappointing you. “Many vampires still… hunt. Some are more predatory, some are more subtle, some prefer to not hurt anyone. There are a million ways to feed, amore, and we have no laws to regulate this.”

“But why would they still hunt?” There is irritation, confusion in your tone. “If there are easier ways?”

“Some vampires enjoy the taste of fear in the blood,” he says. “A lot of adrenaline, stress hormones, it flows faster after biting too. Even here sometimes people are scared of needles and you can taste it later after taking their blood. But it is not as intense as it is when you… hunt.”

“Do you… do you like this taste?”

“No.” He falters, cocking his head to the side. “Not anymore.”

“But you have?”

There is a hint of accusation in your tone but he does not seem disturbed by it, on the contrary. “I will not lie to you. I have in the past, grappolino. Many young vampires do, a bit like teenagers who drink alcohol for the first time. But taste changes with time, as it does for humans, and I have left those wild, young days long behind me. In fact, since I tasted you…” He trails off, running his finger down your jaw until he strokes the faint remains of the bite on your neck. “I have no desire to hunt for a better taste.”

His words send a shiver through your body. His thumb presses back against your neck, then underneath your jaw, following the line of your pulse. Even knowing what he is and what he did – your body longs for his touch and you don’t know what to do other than give in. You press your cheek into the softness of his belly, the fabric of his robe smooth against your skin, trying to hide how easily affected you are. “So you were my mosquito? The bites were yours?”

“That is the second question.”

You furrow your brow, trying to pull away but he won’t let you. “Secondo–”

“You take me for a monster now,” he states. “And maybe I am, maybe I am cruel for wanting you for myself in ways that made me keep the truth, in fear that you could not accept me. But my feelings for you are real, they are consuming me more than any thirst for blood ever has. I am…” He swallows, his voice firm as he continues. “I am devoted to you forever.”

For a moment you let those words sink in. This is as close to a confession of his love that you got until now and you realize that it must take him everything to be so open with you. He seems to mistake your silence for rejection.

“I understand if you want to leave,” he says. “I will not stop you.”

You shake your head, finally managing to sit up and properly look at him. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t ever want to leave you.” He looks pained at your admission, like he has almost been hoping for a rejection. “Why are you so hesitant? Is it that unheard of to be with a human? Your brother is with one as well.”

“Every time I have opened myself to someone it ended in pain and it will end in pain with you, grappolino. Unbearable pain, loss, grief, loneliness.” He stops himself, his eyes red and glistening. “With you I have let the sun back into my life. And I cannot… I cannot bear to have the world take it from me again. Non credo che lo potrò sopravvivere questa volta.” (I don’t think I can survive it this time)

“It doesn’t have to, Secondo,” you assure him. “There are ways… there are ways to make it last, right?”

“There are ways. But this… it is not something to take lightly, amore.”

“Secondo, I want you to know that… that if it ever happens, if I ever die, I want you to turn me,” you say. “I don’t want to leave you, ever.”

He pauses, shaking his head at the conviction in your tone. “We will discuss this later. You need time to think about it, to learn more.”

“You saw how fast it can happen. I feel like–”

“Amore,” he interrupts. “Not now. The next time I think about your death it will not be in this bed.”

You sigh reluctantly, trying not to mope as you settle against his chest. If he has a heartbeat it is too slow and quiet for you to hear it. But his body underneath yours feels nice, soft and welcoming. You notice that he doesn’t seem to be in pain either.

“Why am I not hurt more?” you ask. “I know that’s another question.”

“We have healers in our midst. They have some influence on your circulatory system.” His hand moves to rest on your waist, playing with the hem of the loose white shirt someone put you in. “You will feel sore for a bit, I think. As will I after my body healed my wounds.”

“Would it… would it help if you drank from me?” you ask.

“You’re too weak, my dove, but I appreciate the offer.”

You sigh, bringing your hand up so you can run your fingers over the sliver of chest that peeks out of the robe. Slowly you open it more and more, toying with his dark chest hair and feeling the smooth skin underneath.

“What do you think you are doing, hm?”

You just smile up at him, pushing the robe all the way open. He doesn’t stop you from exploring more of his body, following the line of hair down to his belly, supple and slightly raised. His own hands start to grab more of your body then, squeezing the flesh on your hips, grabbing at your ass. Before you know it he takes hold and pulls you fully on top of him. Your core meets the outline of his hardening cock, barely concealed by the sweatpants. You gasp at the contact, slowly rolling your hips for a bit of friction.

“You feel good enough to tease me,” he says. “Then you feel good enough for a kiss?”

A smile breaks out on your face and you lean in, resting your upper body against his. Before your mouths can touch he has already grabbed you and sits you both upright. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer and trapping you in his lap until you can feel all of him. Only then does he allow you to close the gap. The kiss has a bruising force, lips pressing in hard, teeth clashing until you adjust and find a heavy but more controlled rhythm. His tongue licks into your mouth hungrily, flicking against yours and you moan, vibrating against it. Your whole body shudders, looking for more, anything to quench the need pooling into your core. Secondo groans at every roll of your hips, sucking on your tongue, biting your lower lip like he wants to consume all of you within seconds. You kiss back with just as much hunger, tying to keep pace. Your whole body is burning with need for him, carrying you higher and higher. After a while he slows, hitting an invisible break, and you follow, pulling away to look at him.

Secondo heaves an exhausted sigh, not letting go of you but creating a small gap between your faces to breathe. “I am not quite in shape yet, amore. I don’t think I can keep up tonight.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to drink?”

Maybe it is the way your voice is practically begging him to do so, maybe it is the hunger in your eyes or maybe he truly needs the energy that your blood provides because he finally relents. You pull at your shirt, baring your upper body to him and for a moment he hungrily takes you in, running his hand over every curve, thumbs teasing your nipples until you arch into him.

“So responsive,” he murmurs as he kisses along your jaw. “So good for me.”

His words make you squirm in his lap, the hard friction of his cock adding to the pleasure that runs through you at every touch. “Please. Please, Secondo.”

“Already begging for my cock?” He huffs out a chuckle, hooking his fingers underneath the elastic of your underwear. He rips the fabric apart with ease, running a bare finger over your arousal. “And already so eager. Always so, so eager.”

“I need you,” you whisper. “Please, all I want is to feel you.”

“Hmm, that is all I want too, grappolino. Perhaps you can use the time while I feed...” His fangs scrape over your skin, not breaking it but leaving a burning trail along your throat. “… to keep me nice and warm, hm?”

“Yes,” you immediately squeeze out. “I will do anything.”

“But there is a catch.” He pulls at his sweatpants, freeing his cock until it slaps against your abdomen, trapped in the tightness of your bodies. “You have to be so very good for me. You cannot make a single move. Can you do that?”

“Yes. Yes, I can.”

“Good.”

He lifts you up carefully, keeping you on your knees above him. You leak onto him, drops of your arousal landing on his cock, and he hisses, his fingers digging into your flesh. With one finger, he wipes it off and smears it over your entrance until he can slip it inside, quickly adding a second. A deep moan leaves you at the intensity of the stretch but you quickly adjust and find pleasure in the stimulation. He pumps a few times, spreading his fingers to widen you even more. When he seems satisfied he pulls them out and grabs both of your hips to pull you down into his lap. The tip of his hard cock slides into your entrance. Before he is even fully inside you already clench around what he offers, making you both moan at the sudden intensity. Slowly you sink down further, his mouth hot on your neck while you run your hand over his shoulders. Once he is fully sheathed, he gives a full body shudder.

“Satana, you are so warm,” he whispers, his voice as delicate as if he is saying a prayer. “So, so warm.”

You don’t speak, allowing him his moment of silent reverence. However, patience is not on your side today and you can’t help but squirm after a second, trying to find the smallest amount of friction. His cock is big, girthy, stretching you open like nothing else you’ve felt before.

“No moving,” he finally says. “I need to be precise.”

With that his lips search for the spot on your neck. He stops eventually, opening his mouth and wetting the spot with his tongue. You expect the pain and yet the sting draws a whimper from you. Secondo stops at once, waiting for your reaction.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “Keep going.”

His fangs pull out and you can feel the blood oozing from your vein. Hungrily he laps at it, not quite sucking but firmly holding his mouth over the wound, tongue swiping at the hole in your neck with every swallow. It’s slower than you expected, even as your heart rate goes up in arousal an anticipation. His cock jumps inside of you and you clench around him, earning you a moan from somewhere deep inside of his chest. For a few minutes you hold out, desire building inside of you with every drop of blood that leaves your body.

Eventually, Secondo breaks away. You notice that his skin feels slightly warmer underneath your fingertips, that his eyes look more alive when they finally meet yours again. The green one has turned red just like in your dream and a drop of blood runs down his jaw. You lean in to kiss it away, the metallic taste on your tongue an intense reminder of who you are with. Secondo reciprocates the kiss with renewed energy, licking the blood from your lips and tongue. You taste more of it in his mouth and you can’t help but moan.

“Your taste,” he says, breaking from your lips. “It is the most exquisite thing, my dove.”

“Do you feel better?” you ask breathlessly.

A nod. You squirm again, his cock shifting inside of you as you try to find a comfortable spot. Secondo huffs out a deep breath, the same strain visible in his eyes that has you whimpering with every little movement. “This is not how I want you,” he says. “I told you I would show you how to sin, no?”

With that he grabs your hips, a sudden invigorated strength that seems effortless as he easily manhandles you onto your back while he stays buried deep inside of you. The impact reopens the wound on your neck and you feel drops of the warm liquid running along your skin.

“White sheets…” you whisper as more blood dribbles onto the fabric. “Bold choice for a vampire.”

He chuckles, licking along your shoulder to catch the few remaining drops. He hums, his tongue almost rough when he cleans every drop you have left to give.

“Your blood sugar is low,” he whispers then. “When we’re done here I will feed you, amore. After a nap, perhaps.”

You giggle but it quickly turns into a gasp when he finally starts to move, slowly thrusting into you in a steady rhythm. He grabs your thighs then, pushing them deeper into the mattress until he has you folded in half. With him so deep inside of you your whole body is boiling. You can’t help but hold onto his shoulders, allowing him to move faster, fucking into you almost desperately now. Your arousal leaks all over your joined bodies, wet, squelching sounds soon filling the air around you as his hips piston into yours. You moan without shame ever time he hits that sweet spot inside of you, every time his skin rubs against the other sensitive areas on your body.

“I’m so close,” you whisper, keening and closing your eyes when he thrusts even deeper, slower now.

“You look at me, amore,” he warns. “You look at me when I make you cum.”

Your eyes snap back open, meeting the liquid fire reflected in his red iris. Secondo’s grip on you is tight and his own grunts echo in tandem with the sounds of your skin meeting, with all the desperate noises that leave your lips. You dance along the precipice for a moment, trying to last, trying to stretch out time for a little longer. But when he begins to stutter, his own eyelids fluttering in pleasure at every slow, deep stroke in an attempt to keep them open, you finally fall. The climax that hits you is stronger than any you have felt before and you’re a mess, mewling and whimpering, breathing in jolts as the heat spreads in your body like fire.

Your muscles clenching around him soon has Secondo following. His cock jumps, pumping you full with his seed while he breathes a low moan into your ear. You feel every raw shudder, every little twitch, until it starts to leak out of you and he finally loosens his grasp. Your legs sink back to the mattress and he settles on top of you. Skin against skin, his cool while yours is hot and burning. For a long time you both calm down. Even if he doesn’t seem out of breath, it is clear that he needs the quiet moment of reprieve just as much as you do.

“Ti amo,” he whispers, first almost too low for you to hear but then louder. “Ti amo per sempre. Not even death can part our union.”

You press a gentle kiss to his cheekbone. “I love you, too.”

He huffs out a breath, turning you both to your sides where he holds you close against him, his lips tickling your temple as he presses more and more soft kisses to your skin. You start to relax, his sweet touches lulling you into a state of half-sleep. Your mind finds back to what really occupies it, all the questions and insecurities. A thousand thoughts are swimming in your head, some of them have to do with the sticky mess between your legs, some of them leave the four walls of this bedroom altogether.

“I can hear your mind working,” Secondo grumbles. “I thought I had distracted you well enough.”

“It’s just… are the Nameless Ghouls real ghouls then?” you ask. “And is the special wine all blood or is it some sort of amalgamation? The healer you mentioned, was it the doctor from the donation?”

“Grappolino,” Secondo warns. “All in due time.”

He shifts onto his back, pulling you on top of his chest. You have to bite your tongue to stop interviewing him because he is right – you’ve had enough exertions for the day, and you’d rather spend your remaining energy on more of this.

“Should we have a smoke?” he finally asks.

“In your bedroom?”

“In our bedroom,” he corrects and reaches for the bedside table.

He grabs a pack of Marlboros, retrieving one to trap between his still swollen lips. The gold Dupont lighter opens with a cling and you have to smile. When he hands you the cigarette this time you don’t hesitate. You take a deep drag, pressing your mouth to his before you exhale. Secondo holds it inside, then releases the smoke into the air above you. When his arms close around your body in a firm embrace, you rest your eyes – and listen to the quiet sizzling of the cigarette as it slowly burns out.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed vampire Secondo. If you want to be tagged in any future Friday Nights stories pls let me know! Terzo and Copia will get their own stories, as you might have guessed from the hints in the plot ♡

Masterlist – My Ao3

#friday nights #secondo #secondo x reader #secondo fanfiction #vampire secondo #papa emeritus ii x reader #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus ii fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #vampire fiction #secondo smut

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borathae · 4 months

Text

"An unexpected rainstorm forces you to seek refuge at your best friend's house. Hoseok just so happens to also be your boyfriend's best friend, who till this day gushes about the night he and Hoseok shared. Soon you can't take the curiousity about his skills anymore. Especially when he looks so goddamn hot and the clothes you borrowed from him smell just like his cologne."

Pairing: Vampire!Hoseok x Witch!Reader

Genre: Best Friends with Benefits!AU, Polyamory!AU, Smut, some domestic sweetness

Warnings: minimal Yoongi x f.Reader, Domish switch!Hoseok, Switch!Reader, there's not really a D/s dynamic though just two people having sex where one just happens to take the lead more & then they change it up, *whispers* if you're new to the Sanguis Universe everyone fucks everyone here lmaoo, Hoseok is a whole boyfriend i said what i said, he gives her his clothes to wear, they smell like him <3, Hobi is a lil nervous hehehe, lap sitting, making out, oral (f. & m.receiving), mattress & thigh humping, handjob, she spits on his cock, he spits on her pussy, passionate missionary, hair pulling (m.receiving), nipple play (m.receiving), clit & pussy spanking with his cock, he shows off his vampire face, dirty talk, praise, he calls her good girl & babygirl, he's into making her beg, multiple orgasms for both, creampies, cockwarming for aftercare, cuddly aftercare, Hoseok's so whipped for her

Wordcount: 12.6k

a/n: you guys, i'm scared he is so hot fjadsfja also, if anyone dares to call me out on my oral fixation i will lick your nostril JFJADJF istfg i can't even deny that i have it hahahah have fun besties because a bitch might cum 💗

The rain surprised you today. You were at the university’s library for most of your afternoon after having spent your lunch and morning hours in lectures and classes. You want to finish your education. This is what your current plan is. A little bit of normalcy and the feeling of achieving one of your life long goals.

You are the only one who went back to university after everything which happened. The others had no reason to do so and you didn’t blame them. You really liked being back at university, spending your days studying and your evenings practicing magic or cuddling with your boys. You are living the best fucking life.

The rain surprised you today. You were on your way back home when a sudden rain shower took control of the sky. You could have easily called one of your boys and they could have picked you up, but you didn’t feel like it. Seokjin’s – aka Hoseok’s – house was just in reach and you are sure that you can find refuge there.

You increase your steps, fighting against the storm. Hopefully Hoseok is home. Seokjin and Emma are back in Gordes for a few months, so Hoseok has been taking care of the house. He spends most of his weekends at the estate however, if he isn’t busy with his dance school that is.

You hurry up the few steps and slam your finger on the doorbell.

No answer for a few moments too long. The rain is wet and cold, the harsh storm brings down the temperature even more. You are shivering like crazy. Your clothes are soaked entirely.

You ring the bell a second time in sync with Hoseok opening the door. It results in you being able to hear the shrill ringing.

“Hey”, you say, slipping your finger from the bell to give him a little wave.

“Hey there hey, come in. Quick, come in”, he greets you, waving you inside as he steps out of the way, “the weather’s crazy all of a sudden. Shit, look at you. You’re soaked.”

“I’m freezing my ass off. The rain surprised me”, you tell him, “can I put my stuff on the mat?”

“Yeah sure.”

Hoseok locks the door while you shrug off your soaked outdoor clothes and backpack.

“You’re lucky I have increased hearing. I was wearing headphones.”

“Yeah? Did you practice dance?” you ask, taking off your shoes.

Hoseok is already busy spreading your wet jacket on the radiator in order for it to dry quicker.

“Nope, just making music.”

“That’s cool. You keep talking about it. I wanna listen to your stuff, seriously.”

Hoseok dismisses you with a nonchalant tilt of his head, “soon. It’s not finished yet.”

“You’re a perfectionist. I’m sure it’s already good.”

“Yeah I am, but at least it means that once it’s done, it’s amazing.”

“I can’t argue what that”, say and feel shivers run through you, “brrrr, I’m so cold. And wet. Urgh, I hate the rain.”

“You love rain.”

You laugh, “yeah, I do. I just don’t like it right now.”

Hoseok smiles and chuckles. He nods his head into the direction of the stairs.

“You know where the bathroom is. You can take a hot shower if you want.”

“This would literally save my life. Thank you”, you say and turn to hurry upstairs, “can I borrow clothes?”

“Yeah sure. What’s your size again?”

Spending time at Hoseok’s place feels familiar and safe. You know every nook and cranny, find everything blindly and feel at home in the rooms. It is not only because you spent months in the guestroom during the time Namjoon was still a threat and you hated Yoongi. But it is also because next to the estate, the former Sanguis frat house feels like a second home. You and the others are always welcome here, you are allowed to act at home and the company is always amazing. There are many days where you take a short rest stop at Hoseok’s place before going home. And there are also many days where the others, especially Jungkook, leave the estate to spend time at Hoseok’s instead. In a sense, the cozy townhouse has become an extension of the estate where all of you are always welcome.

You are in the middle of drying your hair with Hoseok’s dryer when he knocks on the door.

“I’ve put the clothes in front of the door”, he calls out.

“Yes. Thanks”, you call back.

Hoseok picked out one of his comfiest sweat suit. He is currently in a phase where he enjoys wearing matching sweat suits sets in the most colourful of combinations and with many accessories bringing the look together. He always looks to die for in them. He picked out a grey coloured sweat suit with neon green accents for you. You saw him wear it before and he looked amazing in it.

He also laid out a pair of boxers for you and some socks. They are freshly washed because if there is one thing Hoseok is, it is clean.

The clothes smell just like him and the cologne he always wears. Masculine and clean with a hint of sandalwood at the end. You catch yourself smelling the collar of his hoodie way too vividly, cringing at yourself afterwards because of how embarrassing that was. You couldn’t help yourself. He smells so good.

Now wrapped in his soft clothes and with your body warmed up, you decide to look for him. Knowing Hoseok, he was back in his home studio.

It is located on the second floor just past his bedroom and the guestroom Yoongi stayed in all those years ago. The door is closed and you know that knocking is fruitless. You still do, entering his room at the same time.

“Hobi?”

He doesn’t answer you.

Just like you had thought, Hoseok was lost in his music, nodding his head to the beat of it. You can hear snippets of it escaping his headphones. It sounds as if he was rapping "burn" over and over again. The beat sounds aggressive and perfectly rhythmical.

“Hobi?” you repeat yourself and tap his shoulder.

He presses pause and takes off his headphones, turning with his chair afterwards.

“Hey there ___”, he says and grins, tilting his head to the side.

“Sorry to disturb you.”

“You’re not”, he assures you and studies you from head to toe, “cute. My clothes fit you well.”

“Thanks”, you say, smoothing over the front, “they smell like you.”

He grins, “and that means?”

“Nothing”, you mumble and look away. Shit, why did you say that? So embarrassing.

He chuckles and turns back to his desktop. He is wearing a brown sweat suit today, combining some rings and an expensive watch with it. Knowing Hoseok, he would wear some funky glasses and chunky sneakers with it if he were to leave the house. But alas, only a pair of white socks adorns his feet. The latter he currently taps to a silent beat. The song must still be stuck in his head even now that he isn’t playing it.

You take a step closer and point at the screen. Hoseok sneaks a glance up at you. You aren’t aware of it, but like this, your body is touching his upper arm. Your warmth seeps right through your clothes.

“I heard glimpses of the song. It sounded really good”, you say.

Hoseok turns back to you again. Like this, you are between his legs.

“You think so?” he asks, resting his head back against the chair in order to look up at you. His elegant fingers are folded on his stomach.

“Yeah. You sang about burning stuff?”

“Yeah”, he laughs, “you could say it like that. I still haven’t finished the verses yet. It’s just a guide version for now.”

“It already sounds good.”

“Thanks”, he says and stands up with his eyes running over your face. He steps closer to you, placing his hand on the table beside you, “why are you here?”

“I, I uhm”, you clear your throat, “Hobi, don’t be like that”, you complain and push at his chest.

“Like what?”

“A flirt.”

He laughs, “I’m not flirting. I genuinely wanna know why you’re here.”

“I was on my way home from uni and the rain surprised me. This was closest.”

“So I wasn’t a reason?”

“You’re always a reason”, you say and nudge him, “silly.”

He laughs and steps back, “are you hungry?”

“Starving actually.”

“Wanna cook together?”

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

“Funky. Let me just save this and then I’m ready.”

“Yeah, take your time. I’m calling Yoongi to let him know that I’ll stay the night here”, you say with your back already turned to him as you leave the room. You can’t see the surprised look Hoseok sends you at the mention of you sleeping over or the faint smile which follows.

“Sure, tell him”, he says and looks back at his song.

You walk downstairs as you talk to Yoongi. The latter picks up after the third ring.

“Hey, my princess.”

“Hey, my prince.”

“Are you okay?”

“I am, don’t worry. The rain surprised me.”

“I know, I noticed. I was worried already”, he confesses, making you smile.

“Of course you were. Don’t worry about me, love. I managed to get to Hoseok’s just in time.”

“Thank god, phew”, he exhales loudly, “I can relax now.”

“Yeah”, you giggle. He’s so cute.

“Are you staying the night? I don’t think the weather’s gonna get any better.”

“Yeah right? I’ll stay the night if that’s okay.”

“Of course it is. You don’t gotta ask”, he assures you and suddenly you can hear the smirk in his voice, “maybe you’ll end up watching his stuff too, mhm?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest.

“Yoongi”, you gasp.

He chuckles deeply, “I’m messing with you.”

“Wah, so mean. I feel hot now.”

“Sorry”, he laughs.

“You’re not.”

“Mhm, no I’m not.”

“So mean”, you mumble and snicker. Yoongi does the same.

Silence follows, which Yoongi breaks.

“Where are you right now?”

“Kitchen. I’m waiting for Hobi to come down. He’s working on his mixtape.”

“Mhm, the songs are really good.”

“You heard them?”

“Yeah. He showed me and asked for my input.”

“That’s so unfair. He doesn’t want to show them to me”, you whine.

Yoongi chuckles, “poor woman. You’ll love them once he does.”

“Mhm, I’m sure I will”, you say as your eyes shift to the doorway. Hoseok is finally here, “hey love? Hobi just came. I’m gonna hang up now if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, okay. Tell him hi.”

“Yoongi says hi.”

Hoseok smiles, “thanks Yoongi. I say hi back.”

“He says hi back.”

“Thanks”, the smile is obvious in Yoongi’s voice, “have fun, love. Yeah?”

Your heart flutters. You know exactly how he meant that.

“So mean”, you mumble, making him laugh, “I’ll have fun”, you add in a chuckle.

“Good. Sweet dreams, princess.”

“You too, Boongie. I’ll come home for lunch tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’ll have something prepared.”

“Ooh, now I can’t wait. I love you, Boongie.”

“I love you too, princess.”

“And Yoongi! Before I forget!”

“Yes?”

“Can you tell the others where I am? So they don’t worry.”

“Of course, I’ll tell them.”

“Thank you, love. Okay, bye then.”

“Bye, love.”

You hang up and place the phone aside, smiling to yourself.

Hoseok, who watched you talk to Yoongi on the phone, sends you a teasing look.

“You’re so whipped for this man”, he coos and nudges your upper arm.

“Yes I am. What about it?” you throw back with a pout.

“Nothing. It’s cute”, he says and points at his fridge, “what you wanna eat? I gotta warn you, I don’t have lots of groceries because I haven’t really eaten lots of human food lately.”

“Really? But you love human food. Are you okay?”

“Very. Just way too preoccupied with the mixtape. I just crack open a blood bag and I’m good. It takes less time.”

“You guys are so lucky that you can choose if you want to eat food or not. I miss out on food once and feel shitty.”

“Yeah right, I guess we are lucky”, he says and sticks his head into the fridge, “what do you wanna eat?”

You close the distance and try to look inside the fridge as well, “what do you have? Oh pesto. We could make pasta with pesto.”

“That sounds good. I think I still have your favourite pasta.”

“Really?”

Hoseok opens the kitchen cabinet and pulls out a package of your favourite pasta.

“Yup”, he says, shaking it.

“Wah Hobi, I love you. This is the best pasta shape ever.”

“Yeah, it’s good. It holds the sauces well.”

“Agreed and it’s the perfect size for my mouth.”

Hoseok snorts, “that’s what she said”, he says, earning himself a nudge to the chest.

“Perv”, you say, but chuckle.

Hoseok snickers and busies himself with getting out the pot and filling it with water. He puts it on the stove and turns the heat on.

“What should we do now that the water needs to boil?” he asks.

“You could show me your songs.”

Hoseok smiles, “why are you so persistent?”

“Because”, you nudge his chest, “I talked to Yoongi and he told me that you show him your songs.”

“Yeah? And?” Hoseok is giggling, which means he’s being playful.

“Hobi, come on”, you whine, chasing him to grab his waist and squeeze it.

He flees you with minimal effort, letting out squeaky giggles while his hands hold yours in place.

“I’m so curious. Come on, show me”, you whine.

“Fine okay”, he squeaks, “okay, I’ll show you. Just stop tickling me”, he says and pulls you out of the kitchen.

You skip next to him happily, swinging your hands back and forth. Hoseok studies you.

“Why are you so happy?”

“Because I’m gonna hear your music.”

Hoseok sits you down on his studio chair while he busies himself with turning on the big speakers and subwoofer. You pull your legs up on the chair so you can sit cross-legged and watch him squat down in front of the desk. He rests his chin on it as he clicks away on his computer.

You place your hands on his shoulders and give him a gentle massage. Hoseok reacts by leaning into you slightly and letting out a deep purr.

“Okay, this song’s called More. I really like it”, Hoseok explains.

“Is it the one I could hear?” you ask, running your fingertips through the fluffy hair at the nape of his neck.

“No that one’s gonna be called Burn. It’s not done yet.”

“I see. Well then, play it. I’m so excited.”

“Right”, he says and presses play. He gets up and stands next to you with his arms crossed in front of his chest and a stern, almost angry, expression on his face. You glance at him at first, but then concentrate on the song instead. It’s an amazing song. It is not all how you imagined Hoseok’s music to be and you feel terrible that you thought so because as you listened to the hard beat and aggressive guitar riffs between his passionate rapping, you realise just how Hoseok this song is. It is in Korean, which makes understanding the lyrics difficult for you, but you don’t have to understand every word to know that this song means a lot to him.

The song ends.

You cheer and clap instantly, bouncing in the chair. Hoseok doesn’t react to your cheers. He merely tilts his head to the side in a twitch and clicks his tongue, looking displeased.

“Ah I could add more reverb at one sixty”, he says and leans on the table as he works with a stern expression.

“This was amazing, Hobi. Look, I’ve got goosebumps”, you say, showing off your arm.

“You think so?”

“Yes. It was amazing. It had me totally captured and I wanna listen to the song whenever I do something I need motivation for.”

Hoseok turns and sits down on the edge of the desk. He still has his arms crossed.

“Thanks ___, that means a lot.”

“I’m serious. You’re so talented.”

“Thank you”, his features soften as if he finally starts to like the song as well, “yeah, I’m proud of it”, he says and smiles, “it took me a long time to get there, but it’s a good song. You know, I need my stuff to be perfect and I can’t rest till I’m satisfied.”

“I know. You’re a perfectionist”, you tease, nudging him in the thigh.

“Yeah true”, he agrees and pushes himself off the table, “we should check on the noodle water.”

The water is boiling when you enter the kitchen so Hoseok pours in some pasta while you prepare the pesto and a plate for later. You set a timer on your phone, showing it to Hoseok.

“We’ve got around eight minutes to spare. Any more songs you can show me?”

“No, but I’ve got a living room we can chill in."

You chuckle, “you’re so secretive with your songs.”

“Hey, they have to be perfect. I already stressed out ‘cause you listened to More.”

“Okay, okay I’m not saying anything. For what it’s worth, I genuinely think it’s an amazing song.”

“Yeah? Thanks, uhm”, he flusters and giggles, “shit, you got me giggling. Hah, thanks.”

You chuckle fondly, “you’re cute, Hobi.”

You eat your pasta in the living room, chatting about everything and anything while outside it storms. You and he clean the kitchen after you finished dinner and then return to the living room for dessert and more chatting.

You and he share the sofa. Hoseok is sipping on a glass of blood while you opted for hot cocoa.

“Are you okay?”Hoseok asks, interrupting your monologue about your library experience today.

“Why are you asking?”

“Cause you’ve been rubbing your shoulders since we sat down.”

“Oh yeah. I guess I’m just a little tense. My backbag was really heavy today and it fucked my shoulders. It hurts.”

“I can massage you.”

“Really?”

Hoseok nods his head.

“Yes please. Oh my god, my saviour”, you say and get off the couch to sit down in front of him. Hoseok hands you a blanket so you can cover your lower body and then he turns so you were between his legs and he could reach your shoulders.

He rubs his hands together to warm them.

“Should I take off the hoodie?” you ask.

“No it’s fine. I’m starting. Is that okay for you?”

“Yes, it’s okay.”

With your consent, Hoseok places his hands on your shoulders. He begins his massage by rubbing the flat of his palms up and down your shoulders and arms.

“What did you wanna tell me before I interrupted you?” he asks.

“Mhm? Oh yeah! As I was saying, I tried to use the computer to look for the book and it didn’t show me anything.”

“Oh no. How did you find it then?”

Hoseok begins rubbing circles into your shoulders, looking for the tighter areas so he could relax them.

“That’s when it gets cool because I used magic to find it.”

“Yo, really?”

“Yes, really. I concentrated really hard and thought of the words Yoongi taught me and then suddenly, I heard a small bell sound.”

“A bell sound?” Hoseok gasps. He is putting pressure into his touches, relaxing the tense areas. They are hard under his fingertips, no wonder you were in pain.

“Yeah seriously, a bell sound. And it became louder the closer I got to the book and then bam.”

Hoseok gasps.

“The book was right there. In front of my eyes.”

“Okay that’s so funky. What the hell?”

You snicker, nodding your head.

“I felt like a real witch then. I almost yelled until I realised I was at the library.”

Hoseok chuckles, “you’re seriously so cool. I know who to call if I ever lose something again.”

“Yes please do. Ah”, you tense up, “ah geez, it hurts.”

“Relax. You’re too tense”, Hoseok says.

“It hurts a lot, you know?”

“I know. You’re really tight in this area”, he says, digging his thumbs into the area.

“I know, ah geez”, you hiss, writhing in discomfort, “no need to break my shoulders, ah.”

“I’m not even using a lot of my strength”, he defends himself and lessens the pressure, “how’s that?”

“Yeah, it’s better. Sorry, I’m a little wimp when it comes to getting massaged.”

“It’s chill. I can be gentle”, he says, rubbing circles into your neck.

You feel yourself shiver. Not only because of the relaxing touches, but also because of his words. You are very well aware that he didn’t mean them in a sexy way, but it’s difficult not to understand them in such a way when Yoongi’s words still run through your mind. You ogle the TV, then the armchair next to it. Yoongi told you what Hoseok did to him on that chair. You fumble with your own fingers, feeling your heart speed up in your chest. Would it be weird to bring it up right now? He is being such a good friend and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable by being a horny slut. You are aware that Hoseok is a very down to fuck kind of guy, but just because he is, doesn’t mean that he always has to be in the mood to be a horndog. He’s just a person after all and a person you love so very dearly.

“What’s wrong?” Hoseok asks, placing his delicate hands on your upper arms, “am I being too rough?”

“W-why do you ask?” you stutter.

“Your heart’s racing”, he says and rubs your arms, “I can stop if you don’t want to anymore.”

“No, I uhm, no. Hah”, you laugh breathily, “sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Okay? Do you wanna tell me?”

“It’s okay. I don’t wanna make you feel weird.”

“Dude, now you gotta tell me. You can’t just say that. I’m a nosy bastard”, he says, pushing you gently. He laughs.

You laugh, swaying back and forth.

“Yeah I guess”, you say.

“So? Tell me”, he encourages you.

You turn and lift your head so you can look up at him. Hoseok switches between looking into your right and left eye, letting his hands tangle between his legs.

“You gotta pinky promise not to be weird”, you say, lifting your hand.

Hoseok hooks his pinky finger with yours, “promise”, he says and seals it by pressing his thumb against yours, “now open your mouth and talk. You’re making me nervous.”

You lower your hand and take a deep breath, “I’d be down to watch your movies”, you say.

Hoseok gawks at you. His mouth falls open. The silence is intense. His eyes are almost round from how widely he opens them. His reaction is understandable and adorable.

“If you’d be down that is”, you add, giving him a little lopsided smile afterwards.

“I uh”, he lets out and blinks quickly. His air leaves him in a breathy laugh, his right hand comes to touch his chest, “a-are, are you sure?”

You nod your head, “I’m curious what all the talk is about”, you say and scoot closer to nudge his chest, “you’ve got Yoongi still talking about what you guys did that night.”

Hoseok exhales in a laugh and turns his head to the side. His hand shoots up to rub the side of his neck, coyness washes over his features.

“He does?”

“Yeah, totally. You know what he told me on the phone today?”

Hoseok shakes his head. He still isn’t looking at you, fumbling with his own ear nervously.

“That maybe you’ll show me your stuff and that I should have fun. You’ve seriously messed him up back then.”

“Yo dude that’s just- yo”, Hoseok says and stumbles off the couch, running his hands through his fluffy hair. He laughs, but it sounds nervous and so not at all like Hoseok.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him, following him with your eyes. He is prancing up and down, rubbing the nape of his neck.

“You’re messing with me, that’s what up. You?” he looks at you with widened eyes.

“What about me?”

“Outta all the people coming here begging for a fuck, you’d be last I expected this from.”

“Why?” you ask in a chuckle, “you’ve got Yoongi talking about it and Kook mentioning it when I fuck him dumb. I wanna see what the deal is about. Besides, I was just asking if we could watch your stuff, I never mentioned sex.”

Hoseok scoffs, “sure ___.”

You cross your arms in front of your chest and pout, “we don’t have to do it you know? Wow, I feel so attacked right now.”

Hoseok studies you for a moment.

“Yeah uhm, give me a moment”, he says and then leaves the room.

You boil in your loneliness, feeling like dying would be less awkward than what just happened. Out of all the reactions you expected Hoseok to have, pure shock and the need to flee wasn’t one of them. You expected gloating, pride, happiness and cocky teasing, but not for him to run away. You touch your own chest because the embarrassment you feel sits heavy in your chest. This was the most humiliating shit you ever pulled. Fuck, you want to dissolve into thin air.

You pull out your phone to text Yoongi and ask him if he could come pick you up, but before you can, Hoseok is back in the room. He is carrying a translucent hard plastic box filled with cassettes and DVDs.

“Sorry it took me a while, I had to make sure the collection’s complete”, he says and puts the box on the coffee table in front of you, “I still got a box upstairs. Let me get it”, he says and disappears again.

You have never felt lighter before. All the embarrassment from before is gone from your chest. He didn’t quit on you, he just got his stuff. You sit down on the edge of the sofa and begin looking through the box. The movies seem to be from the nineties and two thousands. He’s on a few covers. Naked and with a hard-on. You try not to look at it even if you were literally moments away from watching him fuck on TV.

“Okay, I think this should be everything now. I’ve also got my Only Fans, but you have to subscribe to see that stuff”, Hoseok says and places the second box next to the first one. The box was filled with DVDs and hard drives. He sits down next to you, close enough that your legs were touching, “see anything you like?” he asks, placing his arm around you. He doesn’t let it touch you, instead he just makes you hyperaware of its presence behind you. You feel yourself fluster because Hoseok has never been that close to you with an underlying sexual intention. Of course you and he hug and cuddle as friends, but initiating touch with the near future of fucking is new to you.

You turn your head to him. Hoseok meets your eyes. You and he are just inches away from kissing. The close proximity makes you feel giddy. He’s got really pretty eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, studying your eyes and then your lips.

“Nothing.”

“Nervous?”

You look away, “shut up.”

“Wah look at you”, Hoseok coos and bumps his chest into you playfully, “moments ago you wanted to watch my stuff and now you’re nervous about it.”

“Dude, shut up”, you complain.

Hoseok giggles and pulls you into him with a strong arm just so he can shake you around a little.

“Look at you being nervous.”

“Shut up”, you whine, “I’ll punch you in the balls, I’m serious.”

“Hey, hey don’t ruin what’ll benefit you later. My balls are precious cargo, ___.”

You roll your eyes, shoving him off of you, “you’re annoying.”

“Why? I’m just saying.”

“Urgh whatever”, you say and look back into the boxes.

Hoseok scoots closer and reaches into the first box. He pulls out a DVD. He is on the cover, oiled up and with his dick in his hands. You are looking right at it if you wanted to or not. It’s well-shaped, an impressive length and just girthy enough that you have to do a double take. It almost looks – to put it frankly – just a little bit out of place on him. He is a very petite guy, slender and fit, and his cock looks almost massive on his body. His elegant fingers look so small around it.

“Your dick’s huge, dude. What the hell?”

Hoseok laughs, “right? It’s my vampire cock though. People never noticed, but it comes in handy when you can grow your dick.”

“I can imagine. For porn it’s practical”, you say and glance at his face.

He meets your eyes.

“I hope you know that this is really fucking awkward for me.”

He chuckles, “it’s not awkward for me.”

“I know. You’re an exhibitionist.”

“Right”, he nudges you gently, “don’t be awkward. It’s just me naked and very hard.”

He makes you laugh which lessens the awkwardness.

“Yeah, right that’s the issue here. You’re my best friend and now I’m looking at your boner. I really didn’t think this through. Dude, that’s what happens when you massage me, I say stuff.”

“I’m your best friend?” he sounds moved.

“Yeah. Well. Technically Yoongi’s like my bestest friend, but you’re my best friend. You know?”

“This just got really emotional right now. Thank you, ___”, he says and drapes his arm over you to pull you into a soft temple kiss.

You lean into it, feeling good about it.

“You’re one of my best friends too”, he says and gives you a little squeeze, “we don’t have to do this, you know? It’s okay if you changed your mind.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t wanna stop. I just have to live with the fact that now I know how huge your dick is.”

He laughs and lifts the DVD into your vision, “wanna know why I picked this?”

“Cause your cock’s huge?”

He laughs, “no it’s because this is the movie I watched with Yoongi that got him all horny”, he says and flips the cover. His co-star is on the back, showing off his oiled-up hole. You do another double take not for cock reasons, but because the actor looks way too similar to Yoongi. Hoseok, who saw your eyes flit back for a second glimpse, grins, “you’re seeing it too, aren’t you?”

“I do. What the hell?” you gasp, grabbing the cover to get a closer look, “are sure that that’s not Yoongi and he just erased your memories back then?”

Hoseok laughs, “it could be a theory. But no, that’s Niragi. We did a few films together, but then lost contact.”

“It’s crazy how similar they look. Except for maybe their holes.”

Hoseok snort laughs, “___”, he gasps and nudges you.

You snicker, glancing at him, “I’m just saying. Yoongi’s not that loose.”

“I know. I felt it”, Hoseok says and looks at your lips.

You feel it, just as you feel your heart speed up because of it.

“We could watch that if you want”, he whispers.

“Intriguing, but I wanna see you act with a woman. Got something that looks like me?”

He chuckles, “babygirl, no one’s ever come close to your beauty”, he partially jokes.

You roll your eyes and nudge his chest, “sweet talker.”

He smirks and shrugs his shoulders. He gives your lips one last hungry gaze then finally looks back into the boxes, “I’ve got something you could like. You like female gaze stuff, don’t you?”

“Do I give off those vibes?”

“With the men you date? Yeah.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask in a laugh.

“They’re at your feet worshipping your every step. I’d be surprised if they even as much as called you bad girl in bed.”

You snort, “you’d be surprised then.”

“Mhm, surprise me”, Hoseok purrs and pulls out a black hard drive, “that’s where the good shit is”, he says and stands up, “get ready for a good show ‘cause I fucked like rent’s due in this movie.”

“I’m expecting great things, you know that don’t you?”

Hoseok squats down in front of his TV.

“Yeah, I do”, he glances at you over his shoulder. He lifts it after a second and giggles, “shit, I’m nervous now. You’re gonna watch my shit.”

You study him. He is so attractive to you right now. Shit, you’re getting horny. It’s so easy to get you turned on.

“Or, I don’t know, we could skip the movie and make out instead?”

Hoseok hesitates. Hoseok takes a deep breath. Hoseok looks at your lips. And Hoseok places the hard drive aside just to stand up and hurry to you. He falls to his knees in front of you, placing his hands on your knees. Like this, you are almost face to face, sharing intense silence and even more intense eye contact.

“Is this a yes?” you ask him.

He nods his head, looking at your lips.

You move in, but Hoseok moves back.

“Mhm?” you are confused.

“I just need to know that this isn’t gonna ruin what we have”, he says. You never heard him with such seriousness in his voice before, “I like you so much and I don’t wanna lose you just ‘cause of one night. If tonight’s gonna fuck us up, I don’t wanna continue.”

“It’s not gonna ruin it for me. You?”

“It’s not gonna ruin it, no fuck”, he laughs breathily, “fuck, I wanted to make out with you for ages. Not that I’m one of those desperate dudes thinking they’re friendzoned, it’s just that I kiss my friends if they’re into it. Or fuck them. And show them my porn.”

You laugh, “I know, Hobi. We’re not traditional. None of us.”

“Yeah, it’s the fucking best”, he says and moves in, cupping your cheek with both hands. His nose brushes yours, your heart skips a beat. He is looking at your lips as he talks, caressing your cheeks, “one last chance.”

“Shut up, Hobi”, you whisper and pull him in with your hand at the nape of his neck.

Hoseok stumbles into you, moaning against your lips as he scrambles to find your rhythm. You didn’t give him a difficult rhythm to follow, no, Hoseok is just simply overwhelmed by the sensation of feeling your lips on his’.

You pull back. Hoseok is looking at your lips with half-lidded eyes and a faint smile.

“Did you brush your teeth?” you ask him.

“Yeah”, he says and pulls you back into the kiss. His hand comes in contact with the side of your face before naturally gliding down to hold the side of your neck. His fingers are long enough that you can feel them brush against the nape of your neck. The touch sends the biggest shivers down your spine.

You moan into the kiss and hook your arms behind his head, tangling your fingers deep in his hair. It’s softer than you imagined it to be and that means a lot because you imagined it to be soft. Hoseok also kisses so much better than you imagined him to kiss. He knows just when to give your lips a little suck, when to involve his teeth and when to let you do your thing. His tongue also knows exactly when to trace your lips to make you crave more.

“Shit, you’re so good”, Hoseok murmurs between kissing you, standing up with his arms hooked under your legs. He lifts you off the couch easily, purring deeply when you press yourself closer and bite his lower lip. You are squirming in his arms. Just as Hoseok had thought. You’re into getting carried.

He bounces you in his arms and finally allows his tongue to stay involved for longer than a small trace. You moan, meeting his kisses with eagerness. His lips are so soft, he tastes so good and whenever he bounces you there is friction against your pussy.

Hoseok purrs, walking with a dizzy head. He is so happy for his vampire senses right now, because you are stealing his sanity. This isn’t the first kiss you and he shared, but it feels like it to him. The night at the masquerade ball is a memory in his mind these days. It happened so many years ago and is tainted by the fun influence of alcohol. But this isn’t the result of alcohol, this is untainted and real. Hoseok almost stumbles up the stairs because he’s so excited.

He stops once he is upstairs, pressing you against the wall to break the kiss.

“Shit baby. Can I call you baby for tonight?” he rasps and begins kissing neck.

You roll your head back, revealing your vulnerable spots to him.

“Yeah, you can”, you sigh, playing with his hair and sending shivers down his spine in the process.

“You’re so fucking hot, baby. Fuck”, Hoseok moans. His breath tickles your skin, his lips follow. It feels so good that you can’t stop gasping and squirming in his arms.

There was another occasion where you and he shared a kiss. Back when Alpha was still evil and you still hated Yoongi, you came to Hoseok’s room to comfort him after a fight with Yoongi. You and Hoseok talked and somehow the conversation shifted into you giving him a kiss. Back then, Hoseok was high after smoking too much weed and the kiss felt blurry to him.

Tonight feels like fucking ecstasy to him. He is clear in the head and gets to kiss you so fucking passionately. He growls, letting his fangs grace your skin. This is turning him on so fucking bad. He sucks needily.

“Ah, Hobi”, you gasp, arching your back.

The contact breaks because he pulled back.

“Sorry, fuck”, he apologises, kissing the tender spot. He got too excited and sucked a hickey onto your skin. Now the spot is pulsating in sensitivity, “fuck, I can’t believe this is real. You’re so fucking sexy. Fuck, baby”, he growls and rolls his hips into you. His clothed cock grinds against your clothed pussy, sending electric tingles through your bodies.

You and he moan at the same time. You pull him closer while he chases you with another thrust.

You tug his head up by his hair and give him a second of droopy eye contact before you push him onto your lips. He finds your rhythm instantly, sharing the sloppiest tongue kisses with you. He growls into you, breaking away from the wall to carry you to his room. It’s not far anymore and he needs you under him.

He doesn’t bother closing the door because it’s just you and him in this big house. Nobody can run in on you and it doesn’t matter if the door is closed or not, he’ll have you screaming for him either way. No door will keep the noises out.

He places you on top his bed and steps back to take off his shirt. He throws it onto the ground, looking at you with lowered eyes.

“Couldn’t you have turned the lights on?” you ask in a chuckle.

“Ah yeah, sorry I forgot you can’t see in the dark”, he says and turns on his bedside lamp, "better?"

You look at him instantly, letting your eyes run up and down his torso. Hoseok falls into a pose instantly, taking off his sweats as he does. He keeps his briefs on. They’re the bikini cut type, dark blue and bulging in the front. He is very obviously hard, forcing your eyes to stay on his crotch.

“You’re so hot”, you say, writhing needily.

“Thanks”, he says and climbs onto bed. He takes the spot above you, claiming your lips in a kiss. He keeps his left hand rested beside your head while his right hand dances down your body to play with the hem of your sweats. Your lips tremble against his’, your hands touch his chest. He breaks the kiss but keeps close, “is that okay for me to do?”

“Yeah” you allow him, lifting your hips.

“Thank you. You can always stop this”, he says and takes off your pants.

“I know. You too”, you tell him, writhing needily.

Hoseok wastes no time and takes off your boxers as well, throwing them on the bed beside him. The hoodie he borrowed you is long enough that it covers your pussy. You squirm on the sheets, pressing your thighs together as best as possible.

“Nervous?” he asks.

“A little. You?”

“Yeah, dude”, he laughs breathily, “I’m so fucking nervous. I could shit myself.”

You laugh, “please don’t.”

He snickers, “mhm no, I won’t”, he whispers and kisses your neck.

You close your eyes, rolling your head to the side as a happy sigh slips past your lips.

Hoseok pushes your legs apart with his knees, running his right hand down your torso while his left is propped up beside your head. He listens to your heartbeat for any kind of change. It is racing and increases in speed the further down his hand dances.

Hoseok nudges your head so it rolls to the other side and he can kiss your neck there. You purr softly, squirming under him. Your pulse is fluttering. Hoseok moves closer to your pussy. Your heart skips a beat. He swerves past your heat and feels up your inner thighs instead.

Up and down. Up and down. Hoseok traces your soft skin with just his fingertips. He comes close enough to your pussy that you know his touch is there and yet never close enough that you can feel it. It’s making you squirm more and more.

You reach up, placing your hands on his chest.

“Hobi”, you sigh, sliding your fingers to his nipples. You rub them gently, eliciting a deep purr from him.

“Mhm keep going. I like it”, he rasps and bites your earlobe softly, “is it okay for me to touch your pussy?”

“Yes, is okay. You fucking tease”, you allow him, rolling your hips up.

“Mhm yeah”, he agrees and dances his fingers up your inner thigh.

You shiver. The thought that soon you will feel his touch is making his fingers feel so much better on your skin.

Hoseok touches you.

“Ah”, you let out, feeling his chest vibrate in a deep purr. His fingers part you for him, starting off at your entrance and painting a path up to your clit. He does a swirl when he’s reached her, then dances his fingers down to your entrance again. It is a gentle touch, barely any pressure is involved. You have to keep squirming because these kinds of touches always feel so much more intense.

Hoseok puts distance between your neck and his lips. He studies your face and how you have it scrunched in pleasure. He takes a shaky breath, bundling the sheets next to your head. He’s so into this.

“I wanna taste you”, he confesses, “is it ok-”

“Yeah…” you interrupt him in a breathy voice and your body writhing sensually.

“Shit, you’re hot”, he rasps and abandons you for the sake of shimmying down. He kneels by the bed and wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to his face.

He looks up. Your eyes are focused on the ceiling, you are breathing heavily. Pretty. He thinks you’re so pretty.

He switches his gaze to your pussy. Your sweetened scent is taking up his senses. He lowers his eyes halfway, running them over your exposed heat. Kissing made you wet. It sticks to you and waits to be devoured.

“So fucking pretty”, Hoseok growls deeply and connects his mouth with your pussy.

He drags his tongue through your folds, starting on your entrance until he reaches your clit. You gasp, hold your breath and release it in a quiet whimper.

Hoseok purrs, pressing his tongue against you. He shakes his head, grinding on you this way. This is still a warm up. He’s barely began. You’re so sweet and he needs all of it on his tongue. No wonder your boys are obsessed. Hoseok feels himself get addicted as well.

He stops shaking his head and moves it so his tongue dances up your pussy. He flicks it against your clit, feeling your thighs twitch in reaction. So he does it again. He flicks his tongue against your clit quickly, holding your thighs as they begin trembling.

“Oh god”, you whisper and reach for his hair. You stop yourself. You drop your hand.

“It’s okay. Hold on if you need it”, he allows you and uses the moment to also praise you, “your pussy tastes so good. Fuck, I wanna devour you.”

“O-oh god”, you stutter out and writhe.

“Mhm, so sweet”, Hoseok purrs, burying his face back in your heat. His nose is grinding against you as he sucks on your clit. He keeps you pinned with his strong arms around your thighs, making you take every single second of the hungry feast.

You whimper and reach for his hair to grab it desperately. Your other arm lies itself over your own eyes.

“Fuck. Hoseok….”

Hoseok closes his eyes and moans into you. He releases your clit, slurping up his drool running down your folds. You tug and twist his hair, trembling in his hold.

“Hold onto me, that’s it. Good girl”, he lulls his words because you’ve got him pussy drunk. It’s only been a few moments, Hoseok is aware, but he fucking loves eating pussy. Especially when that pussy belongs to his pretty best friend with her pretty moans and prettier taste.

Hoseok lowers himself for the sake of burying his tongue in your pussy. His long fingers grip your hips and tilt them for easier access. His nose is pressed against you, grinding into you each time he fucks his tongue deep.

“Hoseok oh god”, you get out and choke out a moan, arching your back because it’s impossible to stay still when he is filling you up like this.

He breaks away, letting his spit connect himself with you.

“So fucking sweet, baby. You’ve got such a heavenly pussy”, he praises and spits on her for contrast.

“Ah”, you flinch at the feeling, writhing seconds later when Hoseok slurps up the sinful mess, “Hobi please.”

Hoseok moans, looking up at you again. You’re begging. You’re that type of person. He slips his hand into his briefs to get his cock out because the revelation makes his cock ache. He jerks it off desperately, fucking his tongue deep into your sweet pussy. Those people are his favourites. Oh so ruined by pleasure they start begging without knowing what they’re even begging for. He fucking loves them.

Fuck, he wants to drag every single plea from your tongue. Hoseok furrows his brows and growls against you, speeding up his tongue as he presses himself as close as possible.

“Oh god, please”, you keen, twisting his hair. Your thighs close around his head. You have to grab more of him or otherwise you are losing yourself. He is so fast and sloppy. And so chillingly cool. Because he only consumed blood bags lately, his skin is cold to the touch and yet his mouth carries enough warmth to give you a constant change of temperature. One second his cold nose is grinding against your clit and in the next, his hot tongue follows. The contrast is keeping you on edge and desperate for more.

“Please ah”, you beg and grab his wrist.

Hoseok untangles his left hand from your thigh, sliding it together with your hand. You squeeze him instantly. Your palm is damp and hot.

You writhe and shake, pressing out another plea.

Hoseok growls, looking up at you with darkened eyes. You’re so fucking precious. Look at you needing to hold his hand. You are squeezing him oh so desperately that he wonders if you want to never let go again. He brushes his thumb over your knuckles in soothing and begins concentrating his licks on your clit.

No more playing around. He needs you shaking.

He switches between licking your clit and sucking on it, combining the two sensations until they become this electric blend of never ending pleasure.

“This is gonna make me cum”, you get out and whimper, writhing on the sheets.

Good. Hoseok wants you to climax. This is all he is working towards right now. Your sweet, sweet orgasm on the tip of his tongue. Hoseok dreamed about it for years. He hate fucks his own fist in desperation, making love to your pussy in contrast.

“Hobi this is- ah”, you press out and shudder. You tug at his hair, closing your thighs tighter around his head.

He can hear your blood rush deep inside your muscles. It is rushing and pulsating oh so fucking quickly. He squeezes his eyes shut and sucks your clit between his lips to keep it there and swirl his tongue over it.

“Ah”, you get out and grow silent. You tense up before growing slack within the blink of an eye. Your pussy begins throbbing under his tongue. He’s got you.

“Oh god, ah”, you mewl, filling the air with squeaky moans afterwards. This feels so good. Your legs feel like jello, the heat in your pussy is unbearable. He’s got you climaxing so fucking hard that you actually feel too ruined to keep breathing.

You grab his hair and fuck your hips up against his face, needing it to last so much fucking longer.

Hoseok lets you hump his face with desperate moans leaving him. He keeps his tongue stuck out, basking in every new layer of sweetness you cover his nose with. Shit, he won’t get rid of your scent for days. It’s so deeply burned into him. Hoseok’s in fucking heaven, soiling his hand in his excitement. He isn’t orgasming, he is just very leaky.

“Oh go-god”, you soon drop into the sheets, shuddering in the aftermaths of your high. Your fingers fall from his hair and let go of his hand, “holy fuck.”

Hoseok purrs and gives your clit a kiss. He sucks on her one last time even if you flinch in overstimulation. You had to take it, Hoseok needed one last reminder of your sweet taste.

“Good girl”, he rasps and smiles, “you’re such a good girl, babygirl.”

You mewl quietly, squirming from the praise.

Hoseok drops your thighs for the sake of feeling up your sides as he kisses a path up to your face. His hard cock keeps leaking onto you as he goes. He can’t help it, he’s so fucking needy for more.

He kisses your neck. You press into him instantly, rolling your head to the side until your nose brushes against his cheek.

Hoseok lifts his head, meeting your droopy gaze. You smile and giggle. Hoseok feels his tummy flutter. He gives you his prettiest heart-shaped smile and a little giggle with a nose scrunch.

“We just did that”, you say.

“Yeah right. I loved it”, he says.

“Me too”, you confess and touch his mouth.

Hoseok lets you with bated breath and parted lips. You are so mesmerised by his lips, looking so utterly enchanted by them.

“Your lips are pretty”, you whisper and trace one specific spot repeatedly, “you’ve got a mole there. It’s pretty.”

“Uhm”, Hoseok lets out and lowers his head because he’s actually flustered.

You snicker and drop your hand to instead touch his wrist.

“Can I suck your cock?”

Hoseok lifts his head again in shock, “sorry?”

“Can I suck your cock? I promise I won’t bite it off.”

He laughs, feeling his entire body tingle in butterflies. You snicker, gazing up at him with sparkly, yet lustful eyes.

“Can I?” you ask, tracing his pecs with your nails. His nipples harden instantly, throbbing oh so needily when you brush your fingers over them.

“Fuck, I’m fucked what the fuck”, he lets out and rolls off of you.

“Why?” you ask, straddling his lap.

Hoseok sits up, gripping your hips. Your wet pussy is dripping onto his thigh, your weight is like heaven on his lap. He gazes up at you, drinking in every fucking inch of your face.

“I’m so fucking into you that it’s giving me butterflies”, he whispers.

“Good”, you say and push him down by his chest. He falls, letting out a breathy moan as his back hits the sheets. His hair is ruffled, his hands fall on each side of his head and stay there.

“Stay”, you order and crawl off of him. You run your hands down his body and take off his briefs as you go, eliciting goosebumps to the surface of his skin. He moans quietly, chasing your touch with squirms.

“Feels good”, he whispers and rolls his hips up in synch with your hands parting his legs by rubbing his inner thighs, “ah, yeah feels really good. Hah”, he lets out and laughs breathily.

Hoseok’s bed is low enough that you can kneel comfortably and reach his cock. You do so, dragging him to the edge as you fall to your knees. Hoseok mewls in reaction, gasping for fucking air. His body is burning up. You are fucking messing with him. Your knees hit the floor. The fluffy rug under you gives extra cushioning.

You reach the end of his inner thighs, rubbing circles into the spot where his groin blends into them. Hoseok parts his legs further. His cock twitches needily. You can also watch how his chest begins heaving up and down as his breathing speeds up in excitement.

You glide your right hand to his cock, placing your palm against the upper side of it while your fingers stay stretched. You don’t want to give him too many touches yet. You want your tongue to be the first thing he feels.

Hoseok sucks in air.

You move in and connect your tongue with his base, licking up a thick, wet stripe along the underside of his cock until ending it with a quick flick on his tip.

“Shit”, Hoseok releases his air in a breathy moan, closing his fingers around the sheets right next to his head. He can barely grip them, but it has to be enough. Your tongue feels like fucking heaven on his cock and he’s already burning up.

You hum and drag your tongue down his cock again, swirling it over his balls to get a good feel of them. His skin is soft and cool against your tongue. He throbs at the first contact, making you want more because it was so delicious to have him throb for you. You suck the sensitive skin of his balls between your lips just long enough that it stings a little.

Hoseok reacts in a throaty moan and his hips squirming restlessly. You release him again, guiding your wet tongue up his cock in repeated small, yet terribly sloppy licks. It results in his shaft getting all slickened with your spit. You use it to finally wrap your fingers around him and jerk him off, taking his cockhead between your lips at the same time.

“A-ah”, Hoseok moans, reaching down to grab the back of your head. His hips buck up, forcing his cock to glide over your tongue, and drops his hips again, which almost makes his cock flop out of your greedy mouth.

You let him hold your head. He clearly needs it. You force down the cocky smirk and instead hum around him as you begin bopping your head up and down his cock. You jerk off what you decide not to fit inside right now and dance your left hand up his torso until you can play with his nipples.

Hoseok is moaning so much. He tries not to be too loud, but he genuinely can’t stop his voice from working. He gasps for air and each time he exhales, it happens naturally that he makes the neediest of sounds.

You like what he does. You find great enjoyment in making men noisy for you. There is something very satisfying about using your mouth or hands to turn an otherwise well-spoken man into a moaning mess. Somehow making Hoseok moan feels even more satisfying to you. It is as if you want to prove something to him and show off with what you can do, so hearing him be so incredibly noisy feels as if you are being very successful.

You slip off of him for a moment, spitting on his cock just to pick it up with your hand and spread it in quick movements.

“Holy shit”, Hoseok whispers and arches off the sheets, “ah, a-ah what the fuck?”

His legs are shaking and he can’t do anything against it. Not many people manage to do that to him. Hoseok drops his hand from your head to instead grip the sheets and twist them. His cock twitches and throbs so nicely between your fingers, leaking translucent desperation which aches to be tasted.

“What the actual fuck?” he gets out and squeaks in a moan.

You purr and take him back inside, sucking off his wetness until he writhes under you. Now with his tip incredibly sensitive, you finally take him inside as deep as you can.

Hoseok moans your name and throws his head back, resulting in the sheets to crinkle and his chest to stick up into the air. Your fingers can’t reach his nipples this way, but you don’t mind. You take his balls between your fingers instead, fondling them as your throat jerks off his cock.

“You’re making me cum”, he gets out and groans. His right foot meets your thigh as somehow in his shakes, he manages to step on you. He doesn’t slip off, instead he uses the leverage to arch his back. He gasps, throbbing deep inside your mouth, “I’ll cum in your mouth, it’s gon-gonna happen, ah fuck.”

You moan around him, sending vibrations through his cock.

“Now, ah ___”, Hoseok moans and drops in the sheets as his orgasm takes a hold of him. He twitches and throbs inside you, covering your throat with his warm cum until it gets too much to hold and it trickles out of you. You slurp and suck hungrily, using the excess cum to jerk his cock.

Hoseok is quiet for eight seconds and then his voice finally comes back to him in a guttural growl, “holy fuuuck. What the fuuuck? Shiiit.”

He rolls his hips up needily, riding out the electric waves until the fire takes a hold of him.

“Fuck, okay. Stop”, he says, flinching in overstimulation.

You suck and suck on his tip even if it’s burning up.

“Stop please”, he begs, touching your head with trembling fingers, “hurts. Stop. Please.”

You slide off of him with a delicious moan and swallow, licking your lips just to get the droplets he left outside as well. He tastes so sweet. It’s insane how yummy vampires are. It’s like they are begging to be feasted upon. How paradisically ironic.

“Holy shit, ___. What the fuck was that?” Hoseok gets out as his legs twitch in the aftershocks.

“What do you mean? I sucked your cock”, you act oblivious on purpose, kissing paths up his thighs.

“You made my legs shake.”

“And?”

Hoseok sits up and cups your face just to pull you to your feet and therefore into a kiss. He uses his powers to get you on top of the bed and under him again. His knee is between your legs, his hands are restless on your body. He is moaning greedily, licking into your mouth as if he wanted to taste himself on you. You let him, tangling your fingers in his soft hair as your hips naturally begin squirming on his thigh. Shit, sucking his cock made you so wet. You can feel it sticking to his skin. You squirm harder, chasing the sensations. It feels so good to grind on him.

“What the fuck”, Hoseok breaks the kiss to instead very sloppily suck on your neck, “what the fuck? I’m done. That’s how you suck cock?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Dude, no wonder you’ve got your men wrapped around your fingers. Holy shit”, he babbles and shivers, “you’ve got me shivering in the aftershock. My legs never shake like this.”

“Mhm good”, you purr and squirm sensually.

“You’re fucking insane”, he rasps and reaches between your bodies. He can feel how wet you are and he is still hard as ever. You’ve also messed with his mind enough that he can’t think clearly anymore. All he wants is to fuck your pussy. The proper, respectful Hoseok is gone. You’ve turned him feral with your tongue. He shifts so his hips were between your legs and then drags his heavy cock through your folds. They feel so wet and puffy around his tip, moving right around him as he guides his cock against you.

“Oh? Ah”, you gasp and open your eyes, meeting his gaze, “Hobi…” you get out, scratching down the back of his neck just to grab his shoulders in the end.

His eyes are glowing red. His ivory cheeks are covered in black veins. You rarely see him in his vampiric state, so this is properly messing you up.

“I wanna take you”, he says and slaps his cockhead against your clit repeatedly. It sounds wet, makes you flinch and moan softly with each impact, “do you want me to?”

You nod your head, “yes.”

Hoseok gives your clit one last spank, then drags his cock down to your soaked entrance. He applies pressure and slips in without resistance.

“Holy fuck”, you and he get out at the same time, resulting in your eyes to meet knowingly.

“Jinx”, you joke and laugh softly.

Hoseok’s lips curl into a fond smile. He chuckles and tilts his head to the side, using the movement to lower himself to your face.

“Kidding, you can talk”, you say, making him laugh just as much as he moans. It results in those really deep, sexy chuckles, the kind which really messes with your sanity.

“You’re too much”, he rasps and bottoms out. He stays like this for a moment, closing his eyes to really enjoy how your walls pulsate and throb around him. He can also feel your heartbeat in them. It’s a vampire thing and means that it takes everything inside of Hoseok not to let his cock grow. He doesn’t know if your boys give you their vampire cocks and just in case they don’t, he doesn’t want to overwhelm you. Oh how sweetly naïve he is.

He furrows his brows and purrs deeply, nodding his head as if he agreed with what is happening right now.

“Yeah, you’re definitely fucking incredible”, he says and peels his eyes open halfway, “can I move?”

“Yeah. Move.”

With your consent, Hoseok finally picks up a rhythm. He really drags out his strokes, including a skilled roll of his hips each time he bottoms out. He knows that he doesn’t need to go fast to make you gasp.

And it works. Two strokes in and you release your first gasp, closing your eyes instinctively as his cock fucks the hottest electricity to the surface.

“How’s that, baby?” he asks in a whisper as his hand caresses the top of your head gently.

You nod your head, giving him a little mewl.

“Mhm, it’s fucking amazing for me too”, he says and closes his eyes, “shit, you feel so good.”

He straightens up, pressing his right hand into the pillow and grabbing a bundle of it. His muscles tense and shift under his ivory skin. The red neon lights really accentuate how strong he was despite his lean frame. He meets your eyes, feeling his stomach tighten in excitement. You look so blissed out, staring up at him with heavy, half-lidded eyes. He gives you a smile, overwhelming you with it to the point where your eyes roll back and close and you let out a needy whimper. You writhe under him, reaching up to grab his wrist.

“You’re so fucking pretty, holy shit”, Hoseok rasps and tenses his jaw.

“Harder”, you breathe.

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, wiggling your hips.

“Fuck baby, that’s hot”, Hoseok moans and gets to his knees. He lifts your legs and wraps them around his waist. You mewl under him, gawking up at him with foggy eyes. The stretch follows seconds later when Hoseok buries his girthy cock in your puffy pussy, bottoming out with a sensual roll of his hips and a deep purr rumbling in his chest.

“Hobi…”

“That’s it, take me”, he speaks in a deep voice, keeping you pinned with his ruby eyes, “take a deep breath for me, babygirl.”

You follow, feeling your mind scramble when Hoseok smiles proudly.

“Good job, babygirl. Keep breathing”, he praises and rewards you with deep strokes.

Your breath shudders, your senses blur. He is so rough in his movements and yet they are still so gentle. It is difficult to describe other than that Hoseok knows how to move his fucking hips and he is currently making sure you know that he can.

“That’s it, babygirl. That’s it, keep breathing”, he rasps, sliding his hand to your lower tummy so he can apply gentle pressure.

You writhe and mewl loudly, squeezing your eyes shut. You can feel his cock reshape your insides. He is so fucking deep. Oh god, you are so sensitive inside that every time he bottoms out, you feel fiery pleasure in your entire stomach.

“Fuck, your pussy’s so fucking tight like this. Gotta stretch it all out with my fat cock, mhm?” he taunts, making you whine in both embarrassment and pleasure. He’s got the dirtiest tongue. You feel yourself soaking his cock in reaction.

Hoseok pulls out to the tip, dragging it through your swollen folds. Once, twice, a third time to really mess with your mind. He pushes back inside and gives you his whole length with a harsh thrust. The kind of thrust which knocks a sound out of you and produces the most sinful of slapping sound. You could even feel his heavy balls hit your ass.

“Please…please…”

He moans in bliss from hearing you beg, showing you just how good he can reshape you by pulling out to his tip and fucking into you again. Harshly, just like before. He doesn’t stop after one thrust, keeping the rhythm going as his long fingers slip to your clit to begin circling her.

“Ah! Oh god! Hob-ah a-ah.”

“Feels good, babygirl?”

“Ye-yeah, yeah, yeah”, he fucks the words out of you. You try to nod your head, but you just end up shaking it around on the sheets rather clumsily. It gives your hair such a sexy messiness to it, “yes. Yes, yes, yes please don’t stop”, you chant, clenching around him.

“I won’t. I can do this for hours”, he rasps and fills you with his cock oh so deep.

Hoseok drinks up the view like an obsessed connoisseur. Fuck, you’re the sweetest artwork he ever looked at. He’s got you, doesn’t he? After years and years of imagining how it might be to fuck you, he’s finally got you. And it’s fucking better than any fantasy he could have ever thought up.

“It feels so goo-good”, you sob, spilling tears from the corners of your eyes.

“‘Feels good for me too. Fuck”, Hoseok spits the last word, falling to his hand so he was right above you. Your hips tilt up, allowing his cock to pound you in a better angle. His right hand is still playing with your clit, keeping her throbbing and sensitive. His weight is on you, keeping you where he needs you to be. Wrapped around him and stuffed with cock.

“Hobi”, you mewl, spilling new tears because everything just feels too good.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, yes ah yes.”

“Fuck, I love hearing that”, he moans, “you’re driving me insane”, he adds and kisses you. He can’t take it anymore. He needs to taste your moans, your sobs and gasps for air. His fangs clash with your teeth messily, but you have enough practice with kissing vampires that you find the right rhythm soon. Sloppy, wet tongue kisses. Desperate sucks and nibbles on each other’s lips. Moments where moans are mixing and breaths intertwine. Your fingers bury themselves deep in his soft hair, his fingers increase the pressure on your clit.

You can’t grasp the passage of time when he’s got you fucked so good. Hoseok doesn’t care about it either, basking in the blissful time vacuum with you as your bodies connect in harsh strokes. Outside the storm calms down. Outside the night arrives with dark skies and quiet streets. While inside, the red lights keep you illuminated and your bodies get ruined in the sweetest way.

“Holy fuck, Hobi ah”, you whimper, writhing under him. He’s fucked you long enough that you’re almost there.

“Yeah, that’s good mhm? So fucking good”, he lulls, dragging his lips up your neck, “fuck, you’re so fucking wet. Keep creaming my cock baby, I love it.”

“You’re making me cum soon.”

“Yeah?” he moans against your lips, “fuck that’s hot. Don’t hold back, babygirl. I’ve got you.”

“Hobi, I have to- ah, I have to, to...I have…”

“It’s okay, everything’s okay. Don’t be scared, I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

His words are like the most wonderful hug to you. You feel so safe. He fills you with so much warmth and tingles that you fall over the edge with a whimper of his name and your legs pulling him closer.

Hoseok slows down his thrusts, keeping his cock buried deep and giving you sensual circles so your favourite spots would experience the fire as well. He presses his fingers against your clit, letting her experience warmth and pressure. This feels so good. There are no words for how good he makes you feel.

“That’s it, you’re doing such a good job. Good girl, you’re doing such a good job”, he talks you through it, making it even better with every sweet word he speaks.

You drop the back you didn’t even know you were arching and grab the nape of his neck.

“Hobi, holy fuck”, you choke out and pull his face into the crook of your neck.

“Ah, hey”, he falls with a chuckle and his right hand slamming into the pillow beside your head. It closes around the pillow desperately when seconds later, you are rutting up into him. Your legs are locked around his hips, keeping them from fleeing (not that he wanted to), your pussy is so tight around him.

Hoseok’s voice pitches, his body shudders uncontrollably.

“What are you doing?” he squeaks out, twisting the pillow, “a-ah holy fuck please slow, I’ll cum. Slow, you’re making me cum, s-slow ah.”

“Fill me up, please. Hobi please wanna be creamed”, you beg and twist his hair. You are cockdrunk. There is no denying that. He made you cum so fucking hard that all you want right now is for him to paint your walls white.

“Shit, ah”, he trembles, “shit, holy shit, ah fuck”, he pants and chases your hips in quick ruts. Four strokes it takes him, four strokes and then it gets all too much for him. He climaxes with a pitched moan of your name and his left arm pulling you against his chest.

“Yes, ah Hobi. Thank you”, you mewl, holding him close as his cock fills you with his hottest orgasm.

“You feel so good”, he gets out and drops on top of you. He shudders, exhaling against your neck with a defeated sound leaving him, “holy fuck.”

“Yeah”, you agree, snuggling your cheek against his head. You run your fingers up and down his spine, lingering on his head for some hair play each time you meet it.

“What the actual fuck”, he murmurs.

“Liked it?”

“I’m dead. What the fuck.”

You snicker, sighing happily afterwards.

It takes the two of you a few minutes of silence to really come down. Hoseok keeps lying on top of you, stealing some of your body heat as his cock slowly softens inside you. He’s got you so messy. It is seeping out of you even with his cock inside. You wanted to get up and clean, but he just told you to relax and that he will clean the sheets later.

It was a lull of his words before he grew silent again.

You like the silence. It’s relaxing and helps your brain to reboot. You need that because he really fucked you dumb.

Hoseok lifts his head when his mood lights switch to pink. Silence. His eyes race between yours. He is propped on his elbows, keeping your head caged in safely.

“What?” you ask him.

“Nothing just…” he kisses your lips. It is a sweet kiss. The kind of kiss a lover gives his precious counterpart. It leaves flutters in your chest once he lifts his head again.

Silence.

Eyes race between each other.

The light switches back to red.

He runs the back of his hand down your cheek.

“You’re so beautiful”, he whispers, making your heart flutter.

“You’re beautiful too, Hobi”, you breathe, reaching up to caress his cheek.

His eyes lower just a little bit, a shy smile curls his lips.

“Shit ___, you’ve got me feeling romantic. What have you done to me?” he says and snickers.

“Is that bad?” you ask.

“No, it’s just”, he shudders, “giving me the shivers. Mhm fuck”, he says and nuzzles his face into your neck as he lets out a cute sound. He smooches you just once before the nuzzling continues.

You giggle, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.

“You’re still staying the night, yeah?”

“Of course. Why shouldn’t I?”

“The storm stopped.”

“Right. I didn’t even notice”, you say and giggle when he tickles your ear with his breath.

He chuckles softly, giving you a tender kiss on your ear.

“Fuck, you really did it to me”, he whispers with a smile on his lips and his nose nuzzling into the side of your head.

“The feeling’s mutual, Hobi”, you snicker, ruffling his hair.

“Mhm good, yeah that’s good”, Hoseok says and pulls you closer, “so like, why did it take us years to do that?”

“Our lives have been busy, haven’t they? I feel like it’s only slowly been beginning to calm down.”

“Yeah, right. Shit”, he giggles again, “I’m giddy like a little boy. You’re amazing.”

“You’re cute, Hobi”, you whisper fondly.

It isn’t necessary to mention that Hoseok will be the one to break the news to Yoongi the next day. Hoseok will drive you to class after shared breakfast and he will pick you up again, he will drive you to the estate and then greet Yoongi with a “she just changed my life.” To which Yoongi lets a small smile escape followed by a kiss to your cheek and a teasing “I thought you wanted to change all our lives, Hoba. What happened?”

398 notes · View notes

saiidahyunie · 3 months

Text

sacrifice (eat me up)

vampire!myoui mina x doctorstrange!reader (pt.2) || fluff, suggestive

synopsis: the gala incident was still fresh in your mind not long after your recovery, but you get an unexpected visitor back at the sanctum sanctorum who turns out to be a familiar face.

wc: 9k

warnings: blood ; mentions of food ; bad dreams/nightmares ; flirting ; angst if you squint ; rushed but proofread i think idk

a/n: didn't mean to drag this series (T_T) i've been a bit busy but i hope you guys enjoy this latest installment!!!

pt.1 pt.3

it was dark, pitch black—you didn’t know when, where, or how you got here, but there was nothing.

you walk forward in the endless void of darkness, questions turning the gears in your head in search for answers. obviously you weren’t dead (god forbid it was too soon for you to die as it is) but you deduced the fact that you were still alive to some extent.

a string of voices call out faintly in the distance of empty space, the voice was familiar, but your mind was ringing at a rate that couldn’t process the information like normally.

“would you let me devour you whole?”

“take my flesh and blood y/n…”

“our fate will be consumed by darkness.”

images from the gala come flushing in your head; laughing with the other colleagues of doctors, meeting the chief and spiderwoman, mina’s smile, sounds of the applause from the crowd, screams of the guests, mina biting into your neck, slashes and groans that your ears pick up right after before passing out.

you then find yourself staring at your reflection in the mirror, kneeling while your arms are holding the body of a girl in a white dress. blurry vision hindered you from making out the face you were holding, looking back in the mirror to see mina hold you by the face and neck behind you.

“this is all your doing, the blood of the person you’ve become so infatuated with, on your hands.”

you look back at the mirror again after she whispers this to your ear, the feeling of her fingers on your neck, showing the bite mark that were two apparent dots leaking out your blood, breathing increasing by the second since everything was so hard to process all at once.

she has this devilish smirk, before smiling at your scared expression that’s reflected, fangs bearing along her teeth before she pulls you away fast from the mirror.

that was the last thing you saw before your eyes shot open to a completely opposite setting that was in contrast to your vision? or dream? or whatever the hell you just witnessed in your head just now.

you couldn’t exactly move normally like you wanted, you were tucked in a hospital bed. figured that it was in the same hospital you worked at because of the patterns on the ceiling above you with the same announcer paging doctors and nurses. haewon, you recall the person who’s in charge of announcing names, continuing to scan the room trying to piece everything together to the best of your memory.

the voice of cristina is heard in the hallway outside of your room, glancing over in the gaps of the blinds that were ajar to see how you’re doing while also giving you privacy since you were knocked out for however long it was since that evening. she ends her conversation with the fellow doctor outside and walks in the room to check in on you.

“thank goodness, i was wondering if you were going to wake up at all.” she says with a relief in her voice while you turn your head to see the window outside.

“what happened?” you croak out, coughing as you try to sit up, cristina bracing you with her hands on your chest before grabbing the nearby chair in the corner next to your bed.

“i don’t know,” responding while cristina fished for the tv remote, lowering down the volume and changing the channels. you moved your head and arms around from their soreness from sleeping like a log for whatever day of the freaking week it was. “i was having a really good time at that gala until all of a sudden i wasn’t.”

cristina hands you a mirror, not for beauty purposes, but to see the damage that was done on your neck covered by two square bandages. it wasn’t too extensive, but you did see a hint of a hickey peeking through the top under your chin.

“when we rolled you in, west was trying to figure out how the hell did you get a bite mark on the neck?”

“you wouldn’t believe who it was even if i told you.” you reply, grabbing the nearby ipad set on the table next to you, tapping on the screen to a website that showed official pictures, scrolling through the official images of the supposed red carpet outside (you don’t even remember walking past that) before clicking on a still that captured your silhouette along with another woman’s, showing cristina the picture that left her gasping.

“i know that side profile, there’s no fucking way you tango’ed with the myoui mina?!” she exclaims, clutching the tablet away from your hands, leaning your head back against the headboard as cristina examines the picture more closely.

“you’re probably smart enough to connect the dots together from that night.”

“but that doesn’t explain the bite marks and half of your dress shirt and jacket stained in your blood?”

“cris,” you begin, propping your knee up to hook both of your clasped hands against it, the cords of the iv moving along your arm with the faint beeping of the machine tracking your heartbeat filling the silence.

“what if i told you that vampires were actually real?”

“aren’t those just an old folktale y/n?”

“no, not this one.”

cristina places the ipad flatly on the bed, stepping away to peep her head out the hallway before closing the door and locking it, shutting the blinds after to give an extra layer of privacy.

“what happened that night y/n?”

you lean your head back again, tilting it at an angle as the memories start to come back from that evening at the gala. closing your eyes to come up with the best way to describe your situation, but the only thing that was in your mind was mina.

of all times, why would you be thinking about mina right now?

“the party was amazing, speaking to mr. myoui after so many years since his emergency surgery. that was probably one of the better gatherings that i’ve attended this year alone.”

“how did you get with mina?”

“there was a situation, and i stepped in. after that, we just started talking from then on.”

“and?”

you lean your head down, heart getting giddy at the feeling you felt that night with mina, the way she just acted with you, how she danced with the lights low and the disco balls scattering reflected lights across the hall, the feeling of her lips on yours before she went all vampire go kill mode out of nowhere. you smile at the tender memory before returning your eyes back to cristina.

“let’s just say that it’s most likely a one-time thing.”

“oh you wish for it to happen again don’t you?”

“hmm maybe i do, just minus the vampire bite on my neck currently.” you say, pointing to the bandages on your neck before letting out a soft laugh.

“one of the saviors of the entire universe, and yet a vampire is what puts you in this situation.” cristina says to you, grabbing the remote again and flipped through the channels before landing on the news that was covering the gala incident.

you check the date for today, only to realize that it had been almost six days since the gala. now wasn’t the time to think leisurely, you had to figure out what the hell happened in the span of almost a week—turning the volume up on the tv when the chief and detective park appeared on the screen.

their whole deposition on the situation was to figure out who or what was controlling mina that made her into a bloodlusted vampire in the first place, a really beautiful vampire in that matter to add.

the chief’s statement like most of his statements that you’ve listened to in some sort of fashion, were all ensuring that the safety of the general public as well as those who were affected by this tragedy would be cared for, while the detectives are working hard to piece the crime together—they already had a head start, but you wanted to crack this mystery first before them.

sitting in this hospital bed couped up in the room wasn’t going to do you any good, tearing off the many tubes that were stabbed inside you, the monitor tripping behind you because of the sudden unplugging as cristina let out a loud gasp at what you were doing.

“y/n?! what are you doing!?”

“i can’t just sit here and do nothing, i need answers and i need them now.” you answer her briskly, storming out the door and into the hallway, cristina following after trying to make you rationalize your decision making.

the whole scene was something straight out of house or grey’s anatomy—just a regular patient having an episode with a chasing doctor or nurse trailing behind you, that was the perfect description of the situation that you were in currently.

you managed to get to the elevator with no problem, pressing on the usual button on the panel that led you to the floor of your office. soon as you got out, your legs started to feel wobbly, leaning onto the nearby wall for stability as cristina helped you up.

“had it occurred to you that you lost a considerable amount of blood from that night?” cristina asks you, while your head is still lightheaded from the sensation that made your brain hazy.

“luckily i have you that has dabbled with hematology back in med school.”

“you can barely stand on your own if you didn't have me for support.”

“just shut up and get me to my office.”

cristina then shoves the door open to your office. everything was pretty much the same like you left it, propping yourself up on the bookcase, scanning through the shelves for this rustic, bulky book that you took from kamar-taj as a souvenir. (wong would be pissed that you stole one of his special collection of books but you would get an earful from him another time)

you place the book flat on the coffee table, flipping through the pages as you stop midway through the book, finding the spell that you were searching for exactly, resting your hands on your lap to calm your heartrate to help give the proper concentration to initiate.

cristina watches you form the closed door, the hand poses and signs you waved in the air with an orange light of energy, the cantation of the spell already underway, following along the book with what it had instructed, arms moving in the arm like a painter, finishing up with a snap that shrinks the spell, to a much more smaller size, floating over your uncovered bite wound from mina.

“woah, what was that?” cristina asks you while your eyes are closed, inhaling deeply before letting out a relieving sigh, relaxing every muscle in your body before looking towards cristina with a more soft look on your face—clearly better than how you were when you first came about from your minor coma.

“just a small spell to help with the healing process.” you answer, “i can’t determine if the bite is poisonous or not so this should help with accelerating the cells in my body to regenerate progressively overtime?”

“so no blood transfusion?”

“we don’t have anyone on my record in terms of clients that match my blood type as of right now.”

cristina walks over to your espresso machine, crouching under at the mini fridge laying beneath as she fished out two bottles of water, tossing it towards you to drink as she sat on the couch across from you, rubbing her head trying to figure out everything that has happened to you still.

“so what are you going to do? you can’t just go back to the myoui estate and expect them to show you the crime scene, not without the chief’s consent at least.”

“we need to look at this from a different angle.” you reply, placing the half-full water bottle on the table before rubbing your chin with your fingers. “the myoui estate would be a good place to look into first, but that place is ground zero for the time being, so we need to start somewhere else.”

“where else are you thinking?”

“that’s the thing. i have no idea.”

“then we can’t start if we don’t have something solid to go with.” cristina says defeatingly, raising her hand up as you huff out a hefty sigh.

silence fills up the room again as the both of you try to figure out of a possible lead to look into the whole ‘my crush turned into a vampire and i need to turn her back to normal before someone could actually get hurt’ as cristina took a sip of her water again, gears turning in her head trying to devise a possible point of entry into the case without the police knowing.

“what if we tried getting in touch with mr. myoui directly?” cristina asks you, waving your hand and shaking your head in decline to the idea.

“as it is, they’re knee deep in the news and press talks since this did happen in their house. it would be good if the birthday celebration wasn’t riddled in controversy.”

“mr. myoui really has a long track record of giving press releases for most of his life come to think about it.” cristina says, leaning back on the couch a little bit more, letting the small of her back slide towards the seat, almost slouching now.

records…for some reason that word was replaying back in your mind, staring at the bookcase before your eyes were caught with the filing cabinet that was placed in the ignored corner of your office, where the cloak of levitation would idly float there whenever you weren’t using it.

“records. wait, that just gave me an idea!” you beam out, shooting straight up from the couch, gliding over to your desk to log into the desktop computer.

“what happened y/n? what is it?” cristina asks, face features shifting to a more confused face with her eyebrow raised in a high arch.

“i need you to pull the records on the myoui family’s file that we have of them currently.” you instruct cristina, typing away on the slim keyboard at your fingertips and clicking through website links like there was no tomorrow. “there might be something related to their psychiatric cases. i need you to help me get in touch with someone that helped them in the recovery of mr. myoui’s emergency brain aneurysm surgery.”

“who are you talking about?”

“the phone number to dr. hirai, and that’s the second thing that i need right now.”

“what’s the first?”

“get me a change of fresh clothes for me will ya? i know you have extras in your locker and it’s not my fault that we’re similar in sizes.”

cristina scoffs, rolling her eyes at your demands before she happily complies, heading out the door while you grasp the phone to call a long time friend you hadn’t talked to in ages, the line ringing as the voice on the other end was bright, and sweet like peaches.

“hi momo! yes i was at the gala, and i’m fine now thanks for asking. i have a favor to ask you, can i arrange something with your dad? i think he can help me disclose something that i’m trying to uncover here.”

“this has come to me on such short notice y/n, but luckily i had an opening between my consultations so that i could meet you.”

“i hope you don’t mind dr. hirai, but i need your help with something.” you say to the wise psychiatrist, sitting across from him in his office that looks like a closed off section of a penthouse. the walls were decorated to reminisce the glory days of japanese heritage, tapestries that were covered with symbols that promoted goodwill and a long life you’d assume, but that wasn’t what you’re here for.

momo approaches you two with a tray with three simple teas, setting it down neatly on the table softly humming with a huge smile spread across her lips.

“thank you dear.” dr. hirai says to her lovely daughter, “if you want you can stay for a bit. i don’t know if you’re working at the firm today, so the offer stands.”

“i won’t mind staying, but it seems that you two are going to talk about something important so i should give you guys some privacy.” momo replies, raising her hands up in defense before stepping away slightly.

“it’s fine momo. actually, you can help me with this too. it’s about mina’s family and i could use some of your insight on her.” you say, motioning momo to sit beside, scooching over to the edge of the couch to give her propper space, grabbing the teacup while doing so.

the three of you share a quick drink followed by a hum of approval, the sweet, sugared tea tickling your tastebuds, placing the cup back on the table before clearing your throat to speak.

“now momo, i know that you and mina are actually good friends with each other, and you weren’t at the birthday party a week ago, but i wanted to ask what was mina like?"

momo leans back, taking off her blazer to get more comfortable, pressing up her thick glasses before answering while dr. hirai let out a chuckle, knowing that he has seen the two of them so often that he knows what momo was going to say next.

“mina was always a person who is silent most of the time, but very deadly when she comes out of her shell. her and i go a long way back in law school and whenever we had projects, she always carried the weight i asked for her to do. the epitome of work hard, play and party harder.”

“i see. so you and her have been close friends for a good majority of your life?”

“yeah, until the situation with her parents a couple years back.”

tension hung in the air, you lean in slightly intrigued with the new revelation you just heard now.

“what happened?” you ask, gaining another sip of your tea.

“she didn’t say much, but this was when her dad had that emergency brain surgery. he wasn’t in the right state of mind during his recovery.”

“that’s weird. because i was one of the assisting nurses that night when he came to the ER."

momo pauses for a second, parting her lips before inhaling sharply with what she was about to say next.

“i was supposed to go that night, to her dad’s birthday, but i had some last minute work come up and i couldn’t make it.”

“but i did.”

“and you met her?”

“you could say that.” shrugging your shoulders at momo’s fast question.

“i’ll just say that there’s some family secrets that shouldn’t be uncovered, y/n. the myoui’s are painted to be a perfect family on camera, but behind the scenes and what mina has told me, it isn’t pretty.”

“just as i thought.” you sigh out, hanging your head down before looking out the window.

“during the recovery however,” momo starts again, garnering your attention, “mina would hear her dad spew about finding the right time to claim mina as ‘next in line’.”

“like a successor of some sort?”

dr. hirai laughs, “for a neurosurgeon you sure should have a hobby in detective work.”

momo rolls her eyes at her dad’s joke, “something happened that night, that made mina not mina. i don’t know how else to explain this.”

“i think i know. there was a red moon that night at the party when i was with her. maybe that’s a key explanation.”

dr. hirai swipes for his laptop next to him, typing on the internet to help you with the mention of the red moon you saw through the windows last night, along with the glowing red eyes of mina you saw before kissing her a second time.

“ah! i got it, it was a rare super moon that only comes twice every 4-8 years. looks like the first one was at the party.”

“what about the second one?”

“not for another seven months.”

you look up at the ceiling, trying to construct a solution at the new pieces of information you were receiving. momo feels her phone vibrate in her back pocket, picking it up ahd seeing the contact id.

“shoot, sorry they need me at work. it was nice to see you again y/n!” momo exclaims, giving you a small hug.

“thanks for the help mo. i really appreciate it.”

momo giggles as she walks her way out of the door, leaving you with just her father sitting across from you now.

“so i guess that just leaves us then.” dr. hirai says, placing his laptop off to the side. “there’s something going on that you need my help still.”

you scoot to the side of the couch that you were previously on before momo came in with the refreshments.

“well…you heard your daughter say about mina’s father. i want to dive deeper into that.”

dr. hirai places his head on hand, giving you all the attention as the room is filled with silence for just a few moments. you had only helped with the surgery, but the checkups that you assisted with when mr. myoui came over in the few months, this one flew under your radar at the time—before you became a mystic superhero.

“i know that it’s against your policy for you to disclose what you consult with your patients but,” you begin saying, “more people are going to get hurt from this if i can’t help with mina first.”

dr. hirai just stares at you, pondering at the request you just laid out for him. his face stoic—almost unamused that makes you think in your head about what you’re doing. why go out of this way to help the very same person that almost killed you?

he then stands up, air blowing out of his nose that was audible for you to hear, walking to the window that shows the outstretched of the city skyline in the bright of day. you stand up from the couch, keeping yourself in place as you wait for dr. hirai’s choice of words.

“i’ve known akira since when we were both young upstarts in our businesses here in new york. when i worked with his whole recovery process after his surgery, he would talk about a lot of things. things that would worry him for days on end. his mental health was terrible at that point, but he was able to pull himself together.”

you stand there tight lipped, eyes darting to the side at the thought that you didn’t know that mina was suffering from a terrible time. but the resolve was clear; that was mina—at the same time, she wasn’t from that moment on.

“akira always preached about his family history having power throughout all generations. with that said power, even i don’t know because he doesn’t speak of it much.” dr. hirai continues, moving around the room to a nearby bookshelf with a file cabinet next to it.

pulling out a file that has the myoui name on the tab, dr. hirai hands it to you, examining the casefile before looking up at him again, slightly confused.

“this is everything that i have on record with our consultations with mr. myoui. i consider him to be a ‘former’ client, but i have that on hand whenever he does show up to just have a chat. this is off the books, i hope you know that doctor.”

you then set the file at your side, extending a hand for a quick shake, pleased to have getting what you need to piece the puzzle together—it was still a long way to go, but a start nonetheless.

“i appreciate the help dr. hirai, next time we go to the annual medical summit, drinks are on me.”

“i like your style y/n! you can count on it.”

once outside of dr. hirai’s office, you skim through the file that you were handed, seeing the many notes scribbled on line paper, the old picture of mr. myoui with another picture just tailing at the end of the small stack of extremely confidential files. you flip to the back of the stack, seeing the group picture of momo’s family with mina’s, clearly inferring that they have known each other for quite a long time.

the bright smile of mina grazing your thumb on the two year old picture, the memory of you and her standing on the balcony together passing through your head. again, so many unanswered questions is keeping you motivated to see it through.

“i still don’t see why she would turn into a vampire of all people–”

a buzz vibrates your pocket, grabbing your phone to see who was calling you in the afternoon hours, only to see that it was an unknown number that wasn’t in your contacts. most people would just simply end the call and go on with their day, but you were desperate for any sliver of information possible. so, you answered.

“hello?” you say on the phone, walking alongside the car garage in the ground level of the building.

“y/n? it’s detective jihyo, we spoke at the gala?”

“ah! yes yes i remember. um, how did you get this number exactly?”

“i had to pull it from the chief's contacts. he was worried about you since you almost bled to death days ago.”

“right, well you could break the news to him that i’m alive and well. what’s with the sudden call?”

jihyo exchanges words with a fellow detective in the background, you assumed that this case was still fresh, all hands would be on deck including hers. you reach your car and open the door to the driver's seat before jihyo’s voice is heard through the speakers.

“i was hoping that we can meet somewhere, since i know your ‘real’ occupation, i thought it’d be good to bring you up in the loop with what we have with the incident so far.”

“i just got to my car, just tell me a place and i’ll be there.”

you meet jihyo at a very lowkey cafe overseeing a hilly area of a park, children’s laughter and the sound of cars serving as the background noise. you sighed out in thought, putting your sunglasses back on your face.

“so,” you say to jihyo who’s taking a sip of favorite cup of mocha that’s in her mint-colored cup while you took a finishing bite of a red velvet cupcake (cristina’s recommendation might you add by the way) before crumpling up the wrapper, “why did you meet with me spontaneously?”

“well.” jihyo says with exhaustion, “we’re spread too thin…most of the people that we sent looking for mina are either injured or supposedly dead.”

‘luckily you and the chief are still out and about with this.”

“not exactly, we need a third player in this and it has to be you.”

you reach for your backpack, grabbing the file that dr. hirai has given you all of the contents that were discussed between him and mr. myoui in their various consultations. sliding it across the table for jihyo to look at.

“this might not be much help, but any info that i give you also has to come to me. you guys can’t deal with the supernatural, but i can.”

jihyo hears this, pushed to do the same as she sends a binder that has the shorter version of what happened that night. new details of different scratch marks, injury reports, items from the gala that had lines that clearly look cut through—this was a different ball game for jihyo and the force.

“we’ve been also getting reports of multiple sightings. people are saying that it’s a female dealing with criminals scattered across the city.”

“surely that’s gotta be mina.”

“possibly, my hands are full with the stuff back at the precinct.”

jihyo slides the file you showed her after taking pictures to send to the drawing board back at her work, you taking the binder and file in your backpack as you stood up from the table, tilting your glasses down so that she could see your eyes that was filled with so much seriousness that you didn’t have since your first lab practicals back in college.

before you step away, a wave of unease washes over you, looking out toward the distance and the tables behind you almost like you were looking for someone—the thought of mina came back in your mind again.

was she watching me just now?

“something wrong y/n?” jihyo asks you, breaking your train of thought, diverting your attention back to the girl sitting down still.

“no, just thought i saw someone, that's all.”

you stand up again, shouldering your backpack and fish for your keys in your pocket before turning towards jihyo again.

“how’s spiderwoman doing?”

“she’s okay. a little scratched up, but all she’s worried about is getting her costume fixed for the fifth time this week.”

you chuckle a bit, relieving the tension that your fellow superhero was also struggling in fighting this new foe that wasn’t supposed to be a villain in the first place, as they say; the things that you do when you flirt with the idea of love. (you watch too many rom-com dramas to have your personal sitcom moment)

“you should tell your girlfriend to tag out of this one, i’ll handle this.” you say to jihyo who laughs at you a bit, cheeks flushing with a dash of pink knowing that you were right.

cristina knocks on your office door, opening the door to invite herself in to see you at your desk, papers orderlly scattered across with the projector you have showing the recorded news broadcast from that night.

“easy to see that you’ve gone full enola on this one and i’m loving every second of it.”

you turn off the projector, snapping your fingers as the cloak floats to the door, flipping the light switch while you begin to put everything tougher that you had in your office in your backpack.

“i suppose that everyone’s received the news down below?” you ask cristina, sliding the last file into your backpack before zipping up closed.

“that you’re taking a temporary leave of absence?”

“not temporary, i’ve been away from the sanctum for too long. it would be better to stay at one place rather than two.”

doctor west and jungwon both peep their head through the open door, overhearing the conversation just now.

“you’re leaving us?!” west exclaims, shocked but the surprise news you just announced.

“i don’t have much of a choice here, doctor west, i have bigger responsibilities to tend to.”

west then clutches you in a hug, you clearly unfazed by her sudden spark of emotion while jungwon invites himself in for a few moments, leaving his post at the front desk open.

“i think we’ll be fine, y/n. nice neck tattoo by the way.”

you point to your neck with the two dots on the left side, clearly present and still healing with the two obvious dots with a red line breaking down the middle. “this? yeah i didn’t think i would like it but it’s growing on me.”

gathering your things while also pushing west and cristina out the door before giving one last look in your office that you enjoyed spending most of your time in, but now this door would have to be closed for now with your cloak fast approaching you before transforming into a small minimal gold necklace around your neck.

a quick trip in your car that you would probably not use for however long, you park off to the side in the driveway next to the sanctum, placing a green cover over the car and snapping your fingers to make it vanish into thin air—it was a parlor trick you also used at a party that made the other visiting magician spew out curses and eventually storm out of the place since you stole their thunder without having any magic experience according to them.

the towering doors open with a creaking sound of the aged wood grinding against the hinges, almost greeting their long lost master after being away for so long.

it seemed that way since the place was kept clean and you see a bald asian man slide down the railing of the stairs, clearly unamused to see you, but that was his love language to you since he wasn’t someone to be vocal about his emotions in the first place.

“looks like you had a week.”

“aw i missed you too wong, nice to see you’ve kept the place nice and tidy while i was gone.”

“i know you stole my book that contained spells for party tricks.” wong says with a bitter tone, annoyed that you’ve done the same stealing trick from him for over two years now since becoming a mythical wizard.

“hey! it’s not my fault that you have the healing spell stuck in between the pages!” you dart back, walking up the stairs while wong blabbered nonsense back at you, tending to the nearby fireplace down below.

“your room was left untouched, i promise.”

“if you prank me with wolf droppings one more time, i’m stealing the whole bookshelf in your study.”

later that night, you couldn’t sleep. the nightmare came back to you again.

this time it's back in the grand ballroom of the myoui estate. the tables were empty and you were just standing alone on the dance floor, scanning your surroundings of the sea of scattered chairs moving away from you that leaves you in a guarded position, both fists primed and ready for anything that comes your way.

everything shifts with people suddenly appearing out of nowhere—its the same night at the gala again, and you see yourself and mina walk to the dance floor, hands finding their place, sliding to her back as the both of you in this memory were clearly enjoying the moment together.

it was all so nice, you’ve managed to get to know mina in a short span of time to develop a crush on her. the whole crowd of people on the floor laughing, just enjoying the moment together before the lights flash off—turning back on for an entirely brand new image of you on the floor, mina standing over you victorious, your neck gnawed through, blood leaking out while you clutched your neck, gasping for air.

you get a closer look at mina, her hands and dress riddled with blood, fangs bearing in all its glory as you hear her laugh evilly—enjoying this newfound version of herself.

“i beg of you y/n…kill me if you want to heal me…”

“mina pleas–” you reach out, clutching your head in agony, kneeling to the ground to fight off the throbbing in your brain as the grand ballroom crumbles around you, breaking underneath that leaves you falling into the darkness, screaming out for no one.

you shoot straight up from the bed, beads of sweat trickling down your forehead while checking the time—a little past midnight. going back to sleep wasn’t an option for you, not right now.

so in typical fashion for a doctor that would be working the graveyard shift, you kept yourself busy.

flicking on the light on your desk that showed the various files of mr. myoui and the family history, grabbing a nearby spellbook, this one that focused on extraction of a spirit or apparition, it got you thinking—anything could be used as a possibility so it seemed plausible to look into.

that’s when you hear the sound of footsteps landing outside of your room.

you peep out the window that oversaw the small garden you curated to see a familiar silhouette—of all places and times why did it have to be now?

with a wave of your hand, the lights turn on in your room, your cloak of levitation wrapping itself around you as you step outside to the outer area.

you can tell so easily without question.

your close friends complinted you for having a knack for knowing people’s faces and their body builds from any distance.

it was her.

in all of her beauty and elegance, there she was–right in front of you on the balcony.

“you shouldn’t be here.” you breathe out, meeting eye to eye with mina as she was across from you, sitting on the edge of the stone railing with her legs crossed perfectly like a kindergartner.

“don’t we usually say hello to each other if we haven’t seen them in a long time?” she asks you, kicking her feet that were now dangling on the stone balcony, tilting her head to her side.

“not particularly coming from the same person who chewed away at my neck.”

mina raises her hands up in innocence, closing her eyes and raising her eyebrows at the verbal jab you just threw at her before looking at you in the eyes again.

it was clear that you were still resenting her with what she did to you, but when she was just simply standing there with a simple black oversized sweater and pants with white sneakers, her hair flowing down with the bangs breaking through—it was hard to believe that she was the same person that turned into a vampire while kissing you.

“you owe me an explanation for this, inside.”

mina follows your lead back into your room. the door behind her shuts itself swiftly from the outside with the curtains moving themselves to give you two some more privacy. she leans against your edge of the bed while you fished for a hoodie in your closet.

“do you know how long its been?” you ask her from the closet, walking back out looking a little bit more presentable to mina. she looks at you with a soft glint in her eyes, gazing at your cute appearance of teddy bear pajamas with a cropped gray hoodie showing a hint of your lower abs. your hair was tied up in a messy bun and your cloak of levitation was following you around like one of those fairies from that one cartoon.

mina’s heart skips a beat, just a little.

“i think it’s been a week and i know that–”

“god, you’re so confusing.”

“what?”

you pace around the room like a propper detective (cristina would laugh if she saw your current state right now). in front of mina with your two fingers primed to your chin, letting your brain work to try to think of a proper question without sounding so harsh towards your crush to the point where you’d almost be saying ‘i don’t want to see you now, so leave’ but you kept your poker face and yourself composed as mina just watches you with a calming intent.

“look,” you sigh out, “i have so many questions for you, but i just don’t know what’s going through my head right now.” mina stands up straight, keeping her close distance, noticing that you were still distressed from everything that’s flooding in your mind–raising a hand in an attempt to calm you.

“i’m sorry, it’s a lot for me as well.”

a brief silence fills the air as your shoulders turn square to mina’s, the height difference only by a mere one to two inches. you cross your arms before running a hand down your face. in a surprise shock, mina places her hand alongside your arm, you don’t do anything about it since you’ve kept your wall up about your feelings since that night at the gala.

“i’m really sorry y/n, for what i did to you and-”

you grasp mina’s shoulders, turning her around at lightning fast speed, pinning her against the wall next to the door. she lets out a quick hitch of breath from the shocking change in your act–she was a little bit flustered by this, her cheeks tinted with a hint of pink but due to you being oblivious because of your anger, you don’t notice this.

“you’re sorry? they told me at the hospital that i almost bled to death and you say that you’re sorry?!”

mina’s lips close shut, feeling the resentment of what she caused. to be fair, if you actually used your brain for once you’d remember yourself clearly saying that mina wasn’t mina, but of course you’re too captivated by her simple beauty to think straight in the first place.

coming back to your senses, you pat down’ mina’s toned shoulders through her sweater, hands falling down to her hand–fingers barely touching each other, mouthing a soft ‘sorry’ as mina gives a nod in ‘it’s okay’ to comfort you.

realizing how close you two actually were mere centimeters from each others’ faces, you step away to give mina some space, scratching the back of your head as mina fixes up her hair.

“okay, do you want anything to drink before we start over?”

a quick snap and a change of the room, you and mina are now sitting one the same seating booth that they typically have at diners. mina tried to explain her whole backstory to you about the whole debacle about her family but ended up breaking down midway that made you hug her, holding a tissue box for her to grab napkins whenever needed to blow her nose out before continuing.

“so yeah, essentially my family is a complete mess as it is behind the scenes.”

“i’ve been told.”

mina leans her head on your shoulder, clutching your hand, thumb grazing her finger that makes her feel ten times better from just a simple intimate act. letting out a sigh of relief that she’s been holding for quite sometime you assume.

“i’m really starting to think that you’re not at fault for what you did to me.”

“really?”

you shake your head, rubbing her arm even more that makes her heart race at the touch. “if anything this just spells something bigger than your little incident.”

“but the news is saying that i’m the one responsible for causing all of that.”

mina feels your body leave her side, only to see you on your knees in front of her, head nestled between her legs as she cards her fingers through the scalp of your hair. you look up at mina from your lowered position, eyes filled with a hopeful intent that maybe mina just needed to be saved–the calling for every hero and their gig.

“the red light from the party, that’s what gave you your powers?”

mina nods, she was hesitant about the question, but knew that it would help her a lot if she told the truth.

“it makes sense, but it doesn’t explain the whole vampire act you have.”

she cracks a smile, watching you stand up snapping your fingers with a trio of spell books floating to you. each one opening and flipping to various pages while mina just sat there with her legs crossed and hands on her lap.

continuing to scan through each of the three books, the middle one catches your eye as it flipped to a page that showed a drawing of a moon, with a simple haiku that also connects the dots to the mystery of the myoui’s heritage.

“i see, that explains the family’s history of this supernatural power and given the ultra-rare red moon last week, it opened up your powers.”

“a bit much y/n, but your point is?”

“you’ve been cursed, mina.”

“cursed?”

“cursed,” you reply, “since your dad had you involved in some shady scientist work at minatozaki industries in addition to your ‘accident’, it just makes sense that your dad’s been utilizing you to instill fear in the public. technically me as well.”

mina’s head dips down from this new piece of information, not letting the distraught translate to her face, staring into your eyes apologetically–the consequences of her actions that were not her fault in the first place, but you were going to do whatever it takes to save mina.

“i’m sorry,” she sobs out, “i’m so sorry…”

“mina, don’t it’s–”

“no! it’s all my fault. getting cursed, the pressure from the family, my hatred for my dad.” she says, standing up, walking towards the door leading out to the balcony, hand reaching out for the door. “i shouldn’t have come to you, this was all a big mistake.” she just needed to get away from everything and everyone–that was the only resolve left on her mind.

hand on the door, she stops her movements when you reach out to grab her wrist, pulling her to your body in a subtle spin move, hand snaking to her lower waist while the other holds her hand still. you close the distance again like earlier when you pinned mina to the wall when she first showed up, tension still present, hesitant with your actions.

“mina.” you say firmly, eyes slightly looking down as she meets yours, the intensity lying underneath with memories of the dance you two had shared together from the gala coming back to you. “i can help you, all you have to do is just ask me.”

she looks down, realizing the position that she’s in—your arms were so open and inviting, promoting a safe haven with you. with the light dimming suddenly in the room, mina looks up again, peeking at your lips for a second. you do the same thing before meeting her eyes again, the pounding in your heart ringing in your ears, standing motionless.

you two read each other’s minds perfectly at the exact same time, tilting heads at opposite angles and meeting in the open space in the middle, locking lips for the second time ever.

the first kiss with mina was a rush, but the second one felt like the kind of kiss that you’ve been waiting for so long. lips parting and joining again and again in an enchanting dance of mouths and tongues. mina’s hands find themselves through your hair, your arms pull her closer in as mina slides her hand on your cheek, a swipe of the tongue on your upper lip catching you off guard but you return the same action. a quick inhale through the nose and shifting the angle of your head again now on the left side in tandem with mina’s right.

you shift around the room, lips still on hers as you fall backward on the bed, mina straddling you. the heat was getting infectious as her weight was above you, sliding down her waist as she let out a light moan in response.

she pulls away to catch your breath, eyes crossed and filled with so much eagerness, the desire for more spelled out on her face. you simply smile at the sight of her, cheeks highlighted with a hint of red, letting out a small laugh at her, parting her hair off to the side to get a better look at her face.

“i’ve missed you so much,” you mutter, mina leaning down for another peck before laying flat on top of you. “god, you’ve ruined me.”

mina softly laughs, that same elegant laugh that she had when you first met her, making you turn over to the side in embarrassment because of how cute she was.

“didn’t think that i’d have you fall for me that easily y/n,” mina replies to you, running her finger down your jawline, laying her head on your chest soon after. “it’s not really you when you’re like this.”

you look down at her, kissing the top of her head, pulling her closer with her arms around your waist.

“i’ve been having dreams of you recently. as embarrassing as it is to admit, but its the truth.”

mina looks at you with a chuckle, smiling at the shocking confession. “really? you’re definitely not helping your case here doctor.”

“please don’t call me that. the title gets annoying at the parties already.” you say, before busting out laughing that makes mina also share the funny moment with you as well.

mina was still mina, that’s all that mattered. plus with the fact that you had her heart and she had yours.

“you can do what!?”

“i can fly y/n.” mina replies nonchalantly, eating a fresh chocolate chip cookie from the jar in the kitchen while you sipped a small cup of coffee, still reading a spellbook trying to find a possible solution to save mina from her little vampire situation. “so what else can you do?”

“i have this crazy sense like being able to hear sounds from far away.”

“echolocation.”

“yeah whatever,” she laughs, “and i feel way faster and lighter than normal.”

“so strength, speed, and pretty much all of the normal five senses are enhanced drastically.” you say, looking up from the book to see mina with a mouthful of cookies, making her look like a squirrel saving up their nuts for the winter.

she did look pretty cute like that after all.

“this is so interesting, and your family was trying to make you harness this power?”

“well that’s the thing that i’m not so sure about.” mina replies, making her way over to you on the other side of the kitchen island. “my dad said that my power would be impossible to be taken away from me if not by force.”

“and you’re trying to get rid of it before they get to you.”

“mhm.” she says, with an eye smile. god she’s so adorable without the formalities.

“that’s why you came to me.” you say, closing up the book before waving it off to your nearby study room.

“i really need your help y/n. i don’t want to have this power let alone have anyone have it for themselves. it’s too dangerous.”

you pull mina in for another hug, something that she finds comfortable with you in the short amount of time since the gala. she melts under your touch, the scent of her hair filling your nose that would’ve made you pass out right on the spot. for someone who was on the run, you were surprised how she kept herself clean despite it only being a week.

“i’m gonna get you the help you need, and we’re gonna figure this out together. so don’t run away from me this time.”

“you were the one who fell first, literally.” mina snickers, making you hug her a little more tighter, picking her up from the ground that made her feet dangle a little bit with how high you raised her.

“i can’t believe i fell in love with a vampire.” you mumble, lips pouting as mina frowns at your statement, brows furrowing just a little bit.

“not for long, right?”

“yeah,” you mutter, “i’ll find something for you.”

mina steps away from you, placing a hand on your neck before tiptoeing a bit to capture your lips again. your hands smoothly snake themselves around her waist, melting into the kiss from the simple contact. this was too good to be true, pulling away slightly, brushing lips together before going back for another quick exchange of kisses–heartbeats increasing in the time that you indulged in each others’ faces.

you wanted to stay in the moment forever, now without the whole gala setting and mina was just a girl without the formal appearance but carried so much elegance in her casual side, the loving embrace of someone you didn’t think was possible–yet look at what you’re doing right now.

this all would’ve been a tender moment if history didn’t repeat itself.

luckily since you were back in the sanctum, being in the natural magic space made your whole powers increase overall—this also meant your senses, noticing a faint hiss coming out of mina again, but this time you were prepared.

before mina could jump at you, eyes glowing red and fangs bearing alongside her teeth. you pulled away, ducking to her waist before pushing her with the flat planes of your palms on her stomach, causing her to be taken back to a solid stone pillar just outside the kitchen connecting to the big common hall/dining room. mina gets on her fours, ready to pounce while you readied an orange sleeve of magic marks before lunging at you again.

she’s growling at you with ferocity, but you were unfazed as your cloak of levitation wrapped itself around you, your spell pushing mina back again before snapping your fingers–causing the chairs next to mina on both sides transform into chain restraints clutching both of her wrists, holding her in place.

mina tries to break free, hissing with everything that she’s got, but all of a sudden she slumps over kneeling with the nullification of her powers coming from the chains. she’s powerless for now, but now you can do the real work into what makes this curse tick.

“you’re not chewing my neck a second time mina.” you say, feeling the two marks that look like a colon on the right side of your neck before pressing two fingers on mina’s forehead before exhaling out, making her fall asleep slowly, vision blackening and her head dipping down before sighing out of relief.

“wong is totally not gonna believe me when i bring this up to him.”

your head suddenly gets a throbbing pain, shutting your eyes from the miraculous headache. faltering away from mina’s lowered position before returning back to normal. you crack your neck as mina looks up at you still dazed.

the last thing she saw before falling unconscious? the canines of your teeth slowly shifted to fangs, cracking a sinister smile before chuckling lowly.

#saiiidahyunee #twice imagines #twice x reader #kpop x reader #mina x reader #twice mina #myoui mina #mina imagines #mina #mina fluff #twice fluff

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astermath · 10 months

Text

unexpected guest *ੈ✩‧

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve isn’t too pleased when you come home with a stray kitten. money is tight, you’re both working full time, and he was never too fond of cats to begin with. somehow, you manage to convince him to keep it anyways.

word count: 1.7K

tags: established relationship, steve and reader are living together in Indianapolis, normal sized font below the cut!

notes: been a little unmotivated recently but nothing motivates me like imagining steve harrington holding a cute animal tbh. he always struck me as a dog type, but I feel like he’d enjoy cats too. thanks to @inkluvs for helping me decide on a title and rambling with me <3

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further steve harrington related content! requests are open!

The pitter patter of heavy rain made for an eerie symphony outside the apartment you shared with Steve. The air is foggy, humid, and it usually wouldn't make him feel this unsettled. No, in fact, he quite likes the rain. When he's inside at least, cuddled up with you on the couch to inevitably watch whatever you wanted on the TV.

But the apartment is empty, at an hour when it normally shouldn't be. Steve's eyes find the faint red glow of the oven's clock; you should have been home an hour ago. Worry settles in his stomach at the thought of all the reasons you could possibly be late. Maybe you were stuck somewhere, kidnapped, or worse.

His socked feet tread along your hardwood floor, pacing with his lip caught under his teeth. Steve knows you’re a capable woman who can handle herself, but you’re never late. He knows you’re always getting home as fast as you can, having missed him and your lovely apartment all day.

He's already reaching for the phone to call you when he hears the familiar jingle of your keys behind the door. A feeling of intense relief washes over him when you open the door and he's met with your beautiful appearance. Wet, messy, and disheveled, but beautiful.

He wastes no time, strong arms winding around you as soon as your coat is off, face buried in your soaked hair.

You chuckle, awkwardly shuffling one of your arms from in between the embrace to rub over his back.

"You're late." He mumbles into the crown of your head, before pressing a kiss into it.

"I know, I'm sorry, I just got really held up at work."

Steve frowns at your excuse. Your boss is really nice, and you're usually never back late. Plus, it's a Tuesday, the café you work at couldn't have been that busy, right?

That's when he notices your other hand, clutching a bag filled with what at first glance seems like random stuff and a blanket.

"Whatcha got there, hm?" He pulls away slightly, head tilting to motion to your mystery bag.

"Oh, nothing," you try your best at a convincing smile, "just some leftovers from work." You swallow, and when you meet your boyfriend's eyes he's giving you that look. It's the same one he gives you when you ate the last bit of ice cream, or when you try to get out of running errands. You suck at lying, you're both well aware of that.

The silence is broken when a soft, squeaky noise erupts from the bag. Your feeble attempt at covering it up with a forced cough is apparently not enough, because Steve is now reaching for the bag, wanting to see for himself what you'd brought in with you.

"N-No, Steve!" You pull your arm away, careful not to shuffle the bag around too much. Whatever was inside was probably fragile, he thought. "It's a, uhm... It's a-- a surprise!" You try to sneak past him to head to your bedroom, but he stops you by wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

"Honey," he leans his head down so his lips are close to your ear. If you weren't so focused on covering up what was in the bag, you were sure your knees would have buckled at the sound of his sultry voice, "you're gonna tell me what's in the bag, alright?"

Your shoulders drop slightly, a defeated sigh emitting from you as you turn around. "Will you promise not to get mad?"

"Sugar..." His brows furrow, already worried about what's it going to be.

"I'm serious," you look up at him with puppy eyes, "promise?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He could never deny you anything when you were looking at him like that. "Fine, promise. Just-- Just show me, alright?"

You crouch down, taking off the blanket that was pretty much drenched from the rain to reveal a box. You're really careful, hands a little shaky, and Steve's curiosity grows by the second.

Finally, you open up the box. He has to squint for a moment, not sure what he's seeing exactly, so he crouches down across you to have a better look.

In the corner of the box is a tiny lump of black fur, mewling surprisingly loud for its small size. Its blue eyes are almost entirely overtaken by the size of its pupils, and it's shaking a little from what he can only assume to be the cold.

"Baby, where did you--"

"Side of the road." You reached out to run a single finger under the kitten's chin, and it wobbles a little from the contact. It couldn't be more than a few weeks old. "It was all alone, sopping wet and shivering." You sniffle, and Steve's heart nearly shatters at the sight of you tearing up over it.

"It probably wouldn't have survived if I didn't do anything," a stray tear rolls down your cheek, "so I took it to the vet for an emergency checkup, got some wet cat food, and-- I don't know, I just... Look at it, Stevie."

The small feline stares at him, not scared, just curious as to who this large creature in front of it is. Steve frowns, resisting the urge to pet it before he starts to grow an actual attachment to it.

"Honey, you know we can't keep it..."

"Why not?" You sound hurt, but you know all the reasons why. First of all, Steve doesn't even like cats. He's always been a dog person, wanting to live out his six children fantasy with a golden retriever as a pet one day. Second of all, money is tight. You both work your asses off trying to save up for a better place someday, an actual house, and a pet can bring a lot of unforeseen costs with it. Yet something in you remains hopeful. That something is also aware of the effect you have on your boyfriend, and how convincing you can be.

He gives you a thin lipped smile in an attempt to comfort you, but you're not meeting his eyes. You're too focused on the little blessing in front of you, that you've already secretly named; Olive.

Steve tries to lean in and hug you, but suddenly, the kitten jumps out of the box and onto his lap. He feels its little baby claws go straight through the fabric of his sweatpants, wincing slightly at the feeling as he attempts to capture the little rascal in his hands. To no avail, as little Olive keeps climbing up his lap and onto his sweatshirt. It's surprisingly fast, for how tiny it is.

"H-Hey, come on now, this is my favorite sweater! You're puttin' holes in it you little demon!" Steve seems a little frazzled, not sure how to delicately handle an animal this small. It seems so tiny and fragile, yet it’s jumping around like it’s Spider-man or something.

You watch as your boyfriend continuously tries to remove the kitten from clawing at his sweater, and though you’re trying to be serious about convincing him and all that, it’s kind of hard when you’re looking at just about the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. You’re already so weak for the sight of Steve by himself, let alone accompanied by an adorable little cat.

Eventually he gets a hold of Olive, holding her up with his hands as it tries to gnaw at his fingers. “Oh you’re totally staying in air jail now young lady.” He glances over at you. “She’s a girl cat right?”

You nod, and he can tell you’re holding back your laugh.

“What?”

You snort. “Nothing, just— for someone who doesn’t want a cat, you already seem pretty attached.”

“Wha— I— Ow!” he winces when Olive starts digging her sharp little fangs into his thumb. He doesn’t let go of her though, still holding her up with a gentle grip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m just— disciplining her for the next person to get her.”

“Mhm, totally.” You grin, reaching out to pet the little black lump of fur he’s holding. She seems to respond much calmer to your touch. “Maybe… You wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of fostering her then?” You look up with those same puppy eyes again, and Steve thinks this is probably the deadliest combo he’s ever witnessed. Not only does he have to deal with your pleading gaze, but it’s now accompanied by the cutest little animal too. He’s only human, after all.

He sighs, carefully setting Olive back down into her box. He just looks at her for a second, surprised at how full of life she is. He always thought cats were lazy and indifferent to their surroundings, but this little one was practically bouncing off the walls.

“No—“ he starts.

“But Stevie!”

“Uh uh uh!” he holds up a finger, halting your sounds of protest. “You didn’t let me finish, sugar.”

You huff, rolling your eyes.

“I was gonna say, no,” he reaches out a single finger to scratch under Olive’s chin, “because I have a feeling we’re just going to keep her anyways.” His eyes return to yours, and he can see the hopeful glint in your expression. “You really like her, don’t you?”

You nod, smiling warmly. “Do you?”

“Well,” he wiggles finger, watching how she tries to play with it, “maybe she’s growing on me a little.”

“You love her.” You grin.

“Well, what can I say, I got a lot of love to give.” He reaches out his arm to pull you close, wrapping around your shoulder and planting a kiss on your head. You both just sit there on the floor for a while, playing with your newfound pet until she gets all tuckered out.

“You know,” you speak softly, not wanting to wake her up, “I’m really glad you agreed to keep her.”

Steve smiles, eyes still watching Olive sleep so peacefully. The contrast to her previous hyper activeness is stark. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Well,” You leaned your head against his shoulder. “I have a feeling she’s going to fit in here well. Like a little family.”

His heart swells with warmth at the word ‘family’. You know that means a lot to him, and in a way, he agrees. It’s a great first step to building something more akin to a home.

“And… Maybe I already got her chipped and registered at the vet before I got here.”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course you did.”

“Love you.” you chuckle, knowing he’s going to forgive you for your impulsiveness either way.

He kisses your head once more. “Love you too.”

tag list <3

@palmtreesx3

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schemmentis · 11 days

Text

La Cosa Nostra - Pt. 8

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

Cowritten w/ @janeyseymour

Summary: Sunday dinner brings unexpected news.

WC: 2.8k

You practically have to pry both your daughters from Barbara and vice versa after breakfast. You promise the twins they'll see her again soon. Your wife promises Barb to do her best to make it before next Sunday.

You're home for much of the afternoon, unaware of the sudden lack of eyes following your every move. At least, for now. You entertain Cat and Rosie, reveling in the extra bit of twin time as you keep them out of the kitchen and thus out of your wife's way.

Sunday morning means church and breakfast with Barb and Gerald. Sunday evening means family dinner at Melissa’s mother’s. A much different affair than it had been when you'd picked the girls up from there earlier in the week. In the middle of the week, it rivals your own house. Relatively quiet aside from your twins and whatever they're getting into.

Tonight, the house is going to have a small handful of people in every room. Mel's large family is a decent portion of it but plenty of the kind of family neither of you are related to at all will be there too. The kind of family only had by the bond of the life you're all in. In reality, it'll probably be barely a fraction of that type of family too. The Schemmentis don't let just anyone in. A type of attitude that didn't begin with your wife, or even her mother.

Since they had to dress up a bit in Sunday best this morning, you compromise with the twins on their evening wear. You send them off to pick what they want to wear to Nonna's, reminding them that you might have to change a piece or two that they pick if it doesn't match. You mentally correct it to be when they don't match. You know they both will pick things from four different kinds of outfits to make into one. Still, it helps when they have some kind of input when you can let them.

You peek over Melissa’s shoulder as the twins are off in their room choosing. She's still busy packing up what you'll be taking over with you that she's made over the afternoon. As if she hasn't made enough to feed your own family three times.

You wrap your arms around her waist, kissing her cheek. “Lemme guess, the extra container is Sammy's branzino.” You mutter as you rest your chin to her shoulder.

“I ain't gonna let him say I ain't paid him. Not in front of Ma.” Melissa grumbles.

You squeeze your arms lightly around her. “His job ain't over yet, anyhow. I told him to be ready to sue the assholes for tearing up Twelve Tables once everything has been cleared.”

Melissa laughs. “Damn right, amore.”

You smile to hear her laugh. Seeing her a bit more at ease today has healed a bit of the stress and wear you've felt. You steal a kiss or two before you let her focus on making sure she's packed everything exactly how she likes.

“No more business talk, huh?” You say as you pull away. Family might be at the house tonight but Sundays are rest days. The one day of the week you don't have to worry like all the rest.

“Cat, you have to take a coat.” You sigh a few minutes later. Her little coat held in your hands as you all stood in the doorway, attempting to leave. You'd managed to get Rosie's on just fine but her sister refuses.

“Mam, the coat doesn't go!”

You look at your wife, a bit pointedly as you know exactly where this sudden phrase has been learned. Notoriously, Melissa is much more concerned with fashion than you are. You dress well, of course. It wouldn't do to be who you are and not dress well. Still, the phrase your daughter is echoing definitely didn't come with you.

“Sweetheart,” Your wife says, looking at your eldest twin. “You have blue in your outfit, don't you?”

Cat looks down, studying her outfit before looking back up to Melissa. “I do!”

“Then your purple coat goes with it. You don't want to be cold, especially when we leave Nonna's do you?

Reluctantly, Cat holds her little arms out to you to put her coat on. You kiss her small head in affection even if she'd been making you exasperated a few moments ago. “Thank you, A storin.” You whisper before taking both her and her sister's hand to walk to the car.

As much time as it took you to get little coats on is at most half the time it takes for them to be removed and dropped at your feet once you've walked into your mother-in-laws.

“No running!” You call after your girls that already aren't listening as they hurry to join their cousins to play. You sigh dramatically as you pluck little coats from the floor before trailing after your wife who has beelined for the kitchen.

You quickly say hello before putting the girls’ coats in the room that's designated theirs when they stay over. You know better than to linger in a Schemmenti kitchen when you haven't been asked to. Especially with more than one generation of Schemmenti women sharing it already.

You say hello and mingle with those who have beat you to the house already. Business and anything close to it doesn't surface at all. It's only talk of family and what everyone's kids are up to or in some cases what trouble they're getting into for the older ones.

It isn't until after dinner that things really settle. The various rooms of the house with small groups chatting quietly. You're sat on one of the couches in the living room, catching up with Kristen Marie when Melissa reappears, claiming the seat next to you. Instantly your arm wraps around her shoulders and your lips press a kiss to her temple.

“Next week it's your turn to do dishes after dinner.” She says to her sister as she leans against your side.

“It should be Mickey's.” Kristen Marie retorts. “I swear when he gets home I'm makin’ him do it every week.”

“Ya, good luck with Ma lettin’ him. You know she'll catch on a lot faster to him doin’ your chores than me doin’ ‘em. Just like when we were kids.”

“That was only ‘cause he was such a tattle tale, you know.”

“Hey, Y/N.”

You look away from the sisters to the figure calling for you. “Hey, Luca.” You greet easily as you look past your wife. “Did you just get here?” Your brow furrows as you realize you hadn't seen him earlier in the night. “You missed dinner.”

“I'm alright.” Luca assures, waving off your worry. “Can I steal ya for a minute?”

You nod, quickly kissing Melissa before you get up. “‘Course ya can.” You say as you follow him toward the kitchen.

You think he's going to fix a plate of the plentiful leftovers while you talk. It isn't unusual for the extended family of Italians to pick your brain about things. Even just for opinion. Melissa tells you it's because you're Irish. You grew up outside of all of this even if you still grew up in the life in your own way. Either way, you've never minded listening or talking things through with any of them.

Instead of stopping in the kitchen though, Luca keeps walking through it and steps into the family room. You trail after him, your brow furrowing. He really wasn't going to eat? That just wasn't normal for anyone in a Schemmenti house.

Once you step through to the family room, you realize you aren't alone. “Uncle Dom,” you greet the older man sat in one of the arm chairs just as easily as you had Luca. “How're you doin’?”

“Good, good, Y/N. I'm sorry to steal ya away from Mel. This'll just take a minute.” Uncle Dominic assures as he shakes your hand.

Luca closes the door that connects the room to the kitchen. Leaving just the three of you in the quiet room. You suddenly don't believe it will only be a minute. Luca remains near the door, his hands crossing at his waist as he stands patiently.

You sit in the other armchair at Uncle Dom's head nodding to it. You don't ask what's going on or what he wanted to speak to you for. You know not to press or hurry. The information is coming.

Uncle Dom sips from his wine glass before setting it back down. “I'll do this quick, like rippin’ a band aid, since you know I like ya, kid.” He says. His hand moves from the glass set down to fiddle with the head of the cane he's needed to start carrying the last two years or so as he's aged. “We're takin’ you off the salon.”

You blink. “I own the salon.” You answer lamely.

“Ya do.” Dom agrees. “But with everythin’ goin’ on right now, it's been decided that it's best if you ain't so…hands on.”

You sit stock still in your chair as you stare back at the older man. You're at a loss for words.

“You're to start actin’ like a…more silent partner from Monday on. Tony’ll take care of the day to day. You worry about your girls.”

You take a deep breath. “I own the salon.” you repeat, slowly leaning forward in your chair. Until your elbows rest against your knees. “And you're tellin’ me to act like Tony does?”

“For now. There's a lot of eyes, kid. It's better if you just stay home, worry about the twins.”

You bite your tongue, hard. You want to argue. You want to fight. Except you know better than to. It won't get you anywhere. This decision comes from higher than you and from more than one person, no doubt.

You push yourself up from the armchair. You don't bother saying anything else to Dom. “Oh, fuck off, Luca.” You mutter when he moves to open the door for you. You throw it open yourself as you storm past him.

You take your spot next to your wife again, as she watches your little girls play with her cousins, and she can immediately feel the tension radiating off of you.

“Mi amore?” She looks to you sharply, your nails just digging into her hip slightly as you take up your position again.

“We need to go, or I’m going to flip my God damn shit,” you whisper into her ear. “I don’t think you want me doing that in front of everybody.”

Melissa gathers the girls, and the four of you attempt an Irish goodbye- running out and leaving without anyone noticing. Somehow, someway, the only person that you run into is Dominic. You glare daggers at him and all but dare him to stop you. He raises his hands in surrender, and the four of you are in your car no sooner.

You absolutely blast the Disney songs through the speaker as you begin to curse in Irish at a rapid fire speed.

“Y/N,” Melissa squeezes your thigh as you drive. “What has you up in arms?”

“I’m going to fuckin’ kill ‘em,” you seethe.

The redhead rolls her eyes. “You couldn’t if you tried.”

“I’m going to,” you hiss. Then you switch to Italian, having run out of cuss words in your own tongue. And finally, you let out a, “Mother fucker!” as you slam your palm on the steering wheel.

Your wife’s brows raise as you continue to curse under your breath. She knows she’ll have to talk to you once she gets the kids to bed- because tonight you are clearly off of parental duties with the attitude you have now. You’re one minor inconvenience away from taking one of her baseball bats to someone’s car, and with the trouble you’re in right now you can’t afford it.

As you pull in, she sets a gentle hand on your upper thigh. “Let me take care of the girls tonight while you simmer on the couch,” she tells you. “Pour yourself a glass of wine, and try not to explode from your rage.”

You kill the engine and storm into the house, not even bothering to help your wife get the girls into the house.

“Mommy?” Rosie asks as you stomp into the house.

“Yes, my little love?” your wife asks as she climbs out of the car.

“Why didn’t Mam get me out?”

“Mam is a little frustrated,” the redhead tells your daughters. “She just needs some time to cool off.”

“Mam is more than a little frustrated,” Cat notes softly. “Mam is really mad.”

“Just let Mam be for now,” your wife tells your girls. “It’s time for the two of you to head to bed anyway.”

“But Mam is home, and I want her to read a bedtime story,” Rosie whines.

“Mommy can read a bedtime story,” Melissa tries to placate as she ushers the girls into the house and up towards their room.

“But Mam reads better!” Cat groans. “You don’t do the funny voices as good!”

Out in the kitchen, you can hear your girls moaning and groaning, and you sigh heavily. If you can’t have control of your business right now... Dom is right- you should focus on your girls. You do end up reading them a story, tucking them in with a few extra kisses for the night, and then you’re out in the kitchen downing at least two glasses worth of scotch.

“Honey,” Melissa wraps her arms around your waist as you throw the last of the liquor down the hatch, loving the way that it burns. “Slow down. You haven’t even told me what’s happening.”

“Dom and Tony are takin’ the business out from underneath me.”

“What?” Melissa asks, sounding as incredulous as you felt when you were first told. “They can't do that! You own it.”

You laugh as you pour yourself another glass. “The fuck they can't. You know as well as I do they can do whatever the hell they want.”

Melissa's hands reach from your waist to your own hands, still trying to get you to slow down. “Amore.”

You put both the glass and bottle down on the kitchen counter a bit harder than necessary. “I have done everything they asked.” You grit through your teeth. “From day one. Even when Bobby was still there. They trusted me more than him at the end of it. And this is what they pay me back with, huh? The hell do they think this is gonna solve? You think the Feds ain't gonna notice I'm all of a sudden not there?”

Melissa sighs at your shoulder, her hands rubbing along your arms to try and calm you. “You know they have some sorta story to feed them if it's asked about already, honey.” She says softly. She isn't trying to give more fuel to your fire, but it is true. You know it is. Nothing is done without being thoroughly thought through.

“Fuck.” You curse once more as you close your eyes. You let your weight lean back into your wife. Her arms wrapping around your waist again. “Is this what we chose?” You ask, your voice much quieter than it has been in the last hour aside from reading to your girls and kissing them goodnight. “We get taught and spout all this shit about family. You're family. You do it for the family. Nothin’ comes over the family. This don't feel like fuckin’ family.”

Melissa doesn't answer you. There isn't a clear cut one. It's a complicated life for even the average person. Add in the mix of mafia and mob and all that comes with them both and complicated is an understatement. Instead she keeps you close to her. One hand letting go of you in order to cap a bottle of scotch to carry as she guides you with the other back to your couch.

You curl in with her on the cushions. Trading the bottle back and forth. The silence of your home cuts only when your mind whirs back to life, and you're ranting your thoughts at her again. In turn, Melissa just pulls you closer to her each time, humming the confirmation of her listening.

Eventually, you end up laying down with Mel on your couch, tangled up together beneath the throw blanket. You raise your head, blinking at your wife for a few moments. You're definitely drunk. Even still, you think she's the most beautiful woman you've seen. “You're family, y’know? The kind everybody in this damn neighborhood wants to keep talkin’ ‘bout. That you do anything for. Nothin’ else above it, all that. It's you and the girls. That's it. The rest of ‘em can get fucked.”

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary fanfiction

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neonganymede · 3 months

Note

Hi hi~ Maybe #14 with soukoku? If you are inspired :)

I love your writing <3 Hope you have a wonderful week!

Hi hi, anon~! Sorry this took so long. It's been a busy month. Thank you for the prompt! Hope you enjoy~

14. A Kiss to Make Up

The sound of the door opening and closing at three in the fucking morning would have alarmed anyone else, but Chuuya just glanced at the clock and wondered what the hell had taken this shitty intruder so damn long? He’d expected the bastard the sneak in the night they came back to Yokohama, not a goddamn week later.

With a frustrated sigh, Chuuya rolled away from the door and waited. He could hear Dazai’s shuffling footsteps as he made his way down the hallway, slow and uneven with his injury still so fresh, and the sound of it made a burst of fury burn through Chuuya’s veins. He took a deep breath and tried to relax; he couldn’t let Dazai escape too soon just because he thought Chuuya was mad at him.

Of course Chuuya was mad at him. Chuuya was always pissed at that bastard for one reason or another. But then he remembered the weight of the water, the rich stench of blood, that fake-ass goodbye with notes of despair coloring every moment of Dazai’s impeccable performance—

Dazai paused in the doorway, and the hesitation made Chuuya’s racing heart twinge. Dazai Osamu didn’t fucking hesitate, certainly not when it came to invading Chuuya’s space. This whole thing felt wrong, and Chuuya couldn’t do anything but let his stupid partner to come to him on his own shitty terms.

It took far too fucking long for Dazai to finally take a step into his room. Sluggish, defeated. Worn down by Chuuya’s refusal to address him, he approached the bed like a man ready to take the final plunge into cold, unforgiving waters.

Chuuya’s blood buzzed.

The blanket pulled away from him, lifted carefully to allow another body into his bed. Chuuya didn’t shiver, but he could feel the way that Dazai did as he pressed up against Chuuya’s back for warmth. The blanket fell back over them, tucking them into this comfortable bubble together, and it was almost easy, almost perfect.

Almost, if not for the uncertain way that Dazai reached for him. Gingerly, as if he hoped that Chuuya wouldn’t notice he’d wrapped his arms around him. A tentative hand found his, and Chuuya took the initiative to thread their fingers together.

Dazai stilled. He sucked in a sharp breath, and Chuuya wondered if he’d killed the bastard by holding his fucking hand.

Just as he was about to say something, Dazai came back to life, his chest heaving against Chuuya’s back. He tightened his grip on Chuuya’s hand as he crushed them together, erasing any loathsome space that might have tried to come between them. Their bodies tangled naturally, two puzzles pieces instinctively snapping back together, and Chuuya’s lungs filled with the same desperate relief that Dazai breathed against his neck. He waited, expecting the bastard to have something to say, but only silence accompanied Dazai’s clinging.

… Huh. Was that it? Chuuya hadn’t known what this long-overdue reunion would bring, but he’d expected something more than just… aggressive cuddling.

Eh, whatever. If Dazai wanted to sleep instead of start shit, Chuuya wouldn’t fucking complain. His stupid mackerel deserved a rest after all the shit he’d gone through.

Hell, they both did.

Chuuya closed his eyes, intending to go the fuck to sleep when he felt Dazai’s breath ghost over his skin. A surefire sign that he was about to ruin this unexpected peace. Goddammit.

Chuuya braced himself, prepared for anything that might come out of the mackerel’s mouth. A tease. An insult. Some seemingly innocent phrase perfectly designed to piss Chuuya off. Anything but—

“I’m sorry.”

—an apology.

Chuuya didn’t say anything. He couldn’t.

“Chuuya. Chuuya,” Dazai whispered, murmured, pleaded. “Chuuya, I’m sorry.”

Chuuya swallowed. He still couldn’t speak, so he lifted their tangled hands toward his mouth and kissed Dazai’s trembling knuckles. To let him know that he’d been heard, that Chuuya understood, that he was already forgiven goddammit! These precious apologies were pointless, nothing more than wasted breath because Chuuya had never been angry at him to begin with.

Not for this, not for the things that Dazai couldn’t control. Chuuya was always mad at him, but he could never be pissed when Dazai had been fighting to win, to survive, to make it back home alive because there was a time when Dazai wouldn’t have.

“I’m sorry.”

Chuuya couldn’t handle listening to any more of these shitty apologies. He rolled over in Dazai’s arms until they were face-to-face, until he could silence any more of those guilt-ridden words with his lips. They hadn’t kissed in so long, not since before all of this shit started, but their mouths still slotted together the same way they always had. Dazai still tasted the same, still felt the same, still shuddered the same under a gentle touch he never believed he deserved, and Chuuya couldn’t believe how much he’d fucking missed it.

When they parted, Dazai drew in a deep, haggard breath and uttered a soft, “Oh.”

So swallowed by the night’s darkness, Chuuya could only make out a rough outline of Dazai’s face, and that was a fucking shame. He would have loved to see Dazai’s expression of genuine surprise after so damn long. Maybe tomorrow morning, if Dazai kept spouting bullshit and needed to be shut up again.

Fingers found their way to Chuuya’s face, much too gentle in the way that they mapped the curve of his cheekbone. Chuuya pressed into that touch, hungry for it and fucking greedy, and Dazai huffed a laugh. The first real one in what felt like a fucking lifetime.

He expected to hear a dog joke next. Something to tease Chuuya, to break this awful tension festering around them like an unwelcome sore, but his next words were quiet, measured. Dazai couldn’t begin to mask his vulnerability, didn’t even fucking try.

“Chuuya’s sure?”

Another kiss, another unspoken answer that had Dazai finally melting in place. Still not relaxed enough for Chuuya’s liking, so he pressed his lips to his partner’s temple and whispered, “Rest, Osamu.”

The familiar phrase worked its magic. With a tiny whine, he pushed himself forward until he’d all but buried his face between the pillow and Chuuya’s neck. He probably would have burrowed even deeper if Chuuya had let him, would have slipped right between Chuuya’s ribs and made a shitty little home for himself in the flesh of his heart.

As if he fucking hadn’t already.

#bsd #soukoku #skk #soft soukoku #fluff and angst

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admirxation · 4 months

Note

obsessed with Hwoarang at the moment so whenever you get the chance could you write a lil something for hwoarang x fem!reader where someone is flirting with him and reader gets jealous and tells them off and then hwoarang is all like "that's hot" and then him and reader fuck✨️

Unexpected Attraction | Hwoarang oneshot request

𓆩♡𓆪┆pairing: hwoarang x fem!reader (afab)

𓆩♡𓆪┆summary: the reader and hwoarang are celebrating their anniversary, but while enjoying their date a waitress starts to become a little too flirty. this leads to the reader standing up for herself and making hwoarang even more deeply attracted to her.

𓆩♡𓆪┆word count: 2k

𓆩♡𓆪┆disclaimer: this is a work of fiction for 18+ readers only, so MDI. you’re responsible for the content you consume so if any of the following warnings trigger you, click off now.

𓆩♡𓆪┆warnings: NSFW 18+ content. female anatomy and she/her pronouns used for reader. detailed smut: p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (f receiving), and fingering.

𓆩♡𓆪┆a/n: sorry for the delay have been going through a hyperfixation of baldurs gate 3 lmao. hope this is good anon. after this i will be focusing on a resident evil series but of course requests are still open, and i encourage them to help me keep practising my writing (of course always check requests rules first). love y’all <3

You and Hwoarang strolled into a quaint restaurant — to celebrate your anniversary — you were happy to finally get some alone time after how busy you two had been, too busy for each other recently. The air buzzed with laughter and the aroma of the delectable cuisine people around you ordered, comfortable with being seated at the cosy corner table. There was a candle between you two, releasing a warm and romantic hue upon your faces, you reached your hand in the middle of the table to have Hwoarang hold yours — you found it entertaining, even still, how small your hand was in his, but it always felt like it belonged in his.

“I’m glad we can finally have some alone time,” his thumb grazed the back of your hand, and you pushed your leg onto the middle of the floor, grazing the side of your foot against Hwoarang’s leg as you two looked into each other’s eyes. He was unbelievably attractive to you, even after being together for a few years now, it still felt like you had a crush on him.

After being lost in admiration you saw a waitress come close to you, you couldn’t help but notice how pretty she was; long strawberry blond hair with green eyes, she walked with confidence and self-assurance with her hips swaying with each step drawn closer; as she approached you saw her name was Abby.

“Hey there, I’m Abby, I’ll be your waitress tonight,” Abby’s attention was intended for you both but you couldn’t help but notice her emerald eyes preoccupied with Hwoarang. As she opened her little notepad her body language shifted closer to Hwoarang, of course, he didn’t notice, he never noticed these things but you could tell; you had only seen a glimpse of her character but as a woman, you could pick up on the little things. Still, you chose to ignore it; she probably just needed a tip and you had no malice to a woman trying to make money.

She took her time taking his order, making sure to ask every single question of the small details of how he wanted his food, you found this odd; you never noticed any waitress take this much care into someone’s order, but the thought of her just needing a tip helped to soothe the warmness in your cheeks that were caused with angry jealousy that slowly manifested within you — a constant battle of being understanding and your gut feeling trying to convince you of the alternative conclusion.

“That should be made for you soon sweetie,” her laughter danced in his direction, her eyes held an extra gleam when meeting his and her gestures seemed to linger a tad longer as she brushed against his shoulder while taking notes, the faintest of touches.

She then turned to you with a quick motion: “You?” her language was so abrupt, and she didn’t have that same friendly aura that she had with Hwoarang.

Keep calm, of course, she just wants a tip, it’s easy to just flirt with him, she had no ill intention, you thought to yourself. Your chest tightened with a mix of frustration and uncertainty, also wondering if Hwoarang was going to be this oblivious the whole night Abby would be your waitress.

After your internal monologue, trying to keep yourself calm you told her your order; by no surprise, she didn’t take the same level of care that she did with Hwoarang, it was a swift telling and leaving — even after multiple attempts to have a level state of mind you could feel that jealous warmth on your cheeks, that anger bubbling inside of you and wanting to just tell her off.

“Hey, you alright? You seem a bit red,” Hwoarang’s caring nature managed to bring you back to reality, understanding that while he didn’t notice and shut her down he wasn’t encouraging her behaviour either so there was a small win to look at.

“Just a bit warm.”

“I can blow the candle out if it’s getting too much for you, darling,” he moved his hand ready to make you feel more comfortable.

“No, no, it’s manageable, don’t worry about it… Honestly,” you moved your hand into his again, melting at his comforting smile that made you feel safe and secure.

“Good, I don’t want you sad… Especially on our anniversary,” he always knew how to get that smile out of you.

“Trust me, I’m happy being with you, you don’t know how much I missed this time together.”

“Hey maybe if you’re lucky this night will end with some more excitement,” he gave you a wink with some gentle laughter after.

“Always remember how bad you are at flirting,” you joked with him.

“Hey,” his eyes widened, “I can’t be that bad if we’ve been together for years now.”

He made a good point.

~~~

The night continued as you both conversed over dinner, you found each other's laughs infectious, also sharing romantic moments of feeding each other with bits the other wanted to try, it put your mind at ease and you were reminded of the time you should have been spending with Hwoarang the last few weeks, not engrossed in whatever your mind had chosen to be occupied with.

As you were continuing your conversation you saw Abby make her way over to collect your plates, you were too smiley with Hwoarang to pay that jealousy any sense of mind — for now.

“Hey, I’ll just take these away, do you wanna order dessert when I’m back,” once again she was directing all her attention to him, that gleam in her eyes that she was getting too comfortable with him was showing, you felt yourself squeeze onto Hwoarang’s hand a little harder, so much he noticed and gave you a quick glance, was he finally catching on? No, just thought you wanted more attention from him.

You declined the idea of a dessert; you two had bought an anniversary cake for back home anyway so no point in indulging in another sweet treat. Abby seemed disappointed, but a shimmer in her eyes glazed over as she told you about the bill — you couldn’t help but feel like she was up to something.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re okay, you seem off now and again,” he paused for a moment, “and the hand squeezing out of nowhere is making me think more.”

You thought for a moment before telling him what was on your mind, making sure Abby wasn’t around and keeping your voice down.

“Well… Haven’t you noticed the attention that the waitress has been giving to you?” his eyebrow peaked in interest, that oblivious mindset unfortunately still existing.

“She seems more invested in the job than other waiters, but what’s wrong with her exactly?”

You rolled your eyes at his innocent oblivion: “You seriously haven’t noticed how heavily she’s been flirting with you?”

“Sweetheart she’s just being friendly it’s what people do.”

“Mmhm, sorry but you don’t notice these things, but I can tell when a woman is scheming and flirting.”

“Okay, if you say so, I won’t argue with your intuition,” he reached for your hand, “and even if she was flirting… Or is flirting with your judgement, I’m not interested in her anyway, I’m with the person I want and only want.”

Despite knowing Hwoarang was only giving in your findings to avoid an argument, it still put you at ease with the reassurance of his love and devotion for you.

Just as a moment of happiness was experienced you saw Abby make her way to you two again, wondering what her next move was going to be.

Your check was handed over, Hwoarang reaching for his wallet to treat you even more on your anniversary date. He noticed a red blur at the corner of his eye, a kiss mark with a phone number tagged at the bottom, he felt embarrassed that he thought you were making this up or reading too much into it, he felt embarrassed for her thinking she would actually have a chance with him especially when he had everything he needed with you. You were quick to pick up on his, that jealous rage that had been manifesting inside finally wanting to explode out, you reached for the piece of paper, seeing Abby look shocked that you were actually doing something and not sitting back and letting her flirtatious behaviour continue.

“Are you serious?” you started, “you can clearly see he’s with his girlfriend and you’re flirting, have you no shame?”

Before Abby could say anything you continued to speak and interrupt whatever lame excuse she found at the back of her mind.

“Just a bit of advice here, you won’t make any good friendships if you keep this up, and any man that is willing to take this bait and go with you… Yeah, I wouldn’t even bother unless you want someone else doing what you’re doing,” she stood in silence, “so take your money, with no tip may I add, and we’ll be on our way.”

Hwoarang found himself increasingly drawn to your resilience and grace under pressure, also noticing all the signs from hindsight and finding your patience alluring; he continued to admire you as you both walked out of the restaurant into the car, an unexpected arousal constantly bothering and distracting him on the journey back home.

When you had reached your warm and comfortable place, you took no time in taking your high heels off, falling to the sofa and raising your arms to invite Hworang for a cuddle you had so desperately needed after leaving that restaurant; Hwoarang swiftly took his shoes and jacket to join you on the sofa, you melted into the warmth of his body and sinking into your favourite smell of his natural scent pulling you closer to snuggle him even longer.

“Hey I’m sorry I got all mad there, I didn’t want to embarrass —” he cut you off.

“No, no, she deserved it, if anything I should be sorry for not believing you the first time and not shutting her down sooner,” you could see a red fluster on his cheeks appear as he tried to over-explain himself.

“You didn’t start flirting back so there’s nothing to be sorry for, it’s over and I hope I won’t embarrass you like that again,” you continued.

“What makes you think you embarrassed me?”

“I don’t know,” you were trying to find the words as you snuggled closer into his chest, “I don’t want to seem over possessive or a crazy girlfriend, I should trust you to not encourage the behaviour and then let it be the past.”

There was a small bit of silence between you both as Hwoarang tried to find the courage to tell you about that unexpected feeling he had as he admired you ‘embarrass’ him: “I mean… if anything I found it kinda hot, if it makes you feel better.

You raised an eyebrow of interest: “Really, me telling someone off attracts you?”

“I mean yeah, you care enough about me to stand up for yourself, also I like to see myself as a prize for you,” he winked and giggled as he teased you.

“And I’m not a prize to you now,” you continued his teasing effort.

“You defo are, my love,” he pulled you closer with his arm around you.

“Hm, how about you prove it to me,” you wanted to see if you could get anything out of this unexpected attraction he had on the way home, after it all it was your anniversary and the night was still young.

Without hesitation he took his opportunity to gently push you onto the sofa, your back hitting the soft plush of the cushions, feeling a jolt of excitement course through your body as you anticipated Hwoarang’s actions; as his body hovered over yours, your eyes connected with his, looking at the lust gleaming in his eyes as he watched your frame under him, quickly moving into a kiss that deepened. Small moans were escaping as the kissing continued, your arms moving around his back and him using his free hand to admire your body, his hands moved from caressing your side to lifting your dress slightly and gently gliding his fingers against your clothed pussy — you released a gasp as you anticipated more.

“How badly do you want me?” he teased as he continued to press his fingers along your slit, moving his fingertips at the edge of your panties, making you keep waiting for when he was finally going to rip them off.

“Badly,” you said excitedly.

“You got me all riled up on the journey home,” his hand was venturing down your panties, you felt his warm skin come closer to your core, you getting wetter as you waited for the pleasure you loved to experience with him, “I’m finally going to have my way with you now… And looks like you’re all excited about it,” the feeling of how wet you were on his fingers made him harder, pressing and throbbing against his pants. Your voice became heavy as he pushed his fingertips deeper into you, taking it slow and enjoying how you were begging for him.

“Oh fuck, please just hurry up,” you kicked you head back softly as he inserted another finger in your core, the slowness was pleasurable but slowly killing you at the same time; you wanted him right then and now to just be rough and make you pay for how you rilled him up earlier. You never knew standing your ground would lead to such arousal.

“Be patient baby, I’m going slow, making you go crazy by the second… like I was in the car,” he smirked, pushing his fingers deep into your wet hole, you gasped louder, laboured breaths released as he continued his slow seduction, pumping his fingers into you carefully — he watched every reaction and twitch, having it boost his ego.

Hwoarang decided to take things further with changing the tempo and speed, his thumb now circling your clit, three fingers inside you surrounded by your tight walls. He watched your glistening pussy call for him, asking to stop the foreplay and just fuck you there and then.

“Fuck,” you said under your breath, biting your lip as you curled your toes the faster he pumped his fingers and swirled his thumb.

He watched you squirm, then suddenly stopping, being met with a disappointed face from you. Just as you were about to beg for more, you watched him lower himself, his face now being met with your pussy, being enticed to lick your slit, loving how you tasted as he licked a streak along your pussy, stopping to swirl his wet tongue on your clit; you felt the moans roll from within the depths of your body, emerging out through laboured breaths, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you grabbed his soft hair, tugging it gently now and again.

You felt him smirk, knowing you were a mess under his control; he liked this upper hand he had over you.

“Does this prove I’ve only got eyes for you my darling?” he quickly asked before he grabbed your thighs and smushing his tongue deeper to eat you out.

“Yeah, of course - of course it does,” it was hard to stop an early release when he found that spot that drove you crazy, he took the time to learn and be accustomed with your body and what it loved and answered to.

As you were holding in, trying not to cum too soon, you couldn’t help but release yourself and glaze Hwoarang’s tongue.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly said.

“Why?” he smirked, “You know I love it.” He started to take his shirt off, pulling his pants off in a quick motion before saying anything else. “Now, I’m going to make you cum again.”

Excitement jolted through your body once again, admiring him as you watched his eyes deepen with lust and love, you watched as he rubbed his cock before pressing against your wet slit.

“Do you like that, baby girl?” he asked, you nodded while biting your lip in return.

He continued to tease you — only for a little bit this time — before he pushed the head of his member inside you, beginning slow before slamming the rest of his length inside you. You couldn’t help but loudly moan, digging your fingertips into his back as he positioned his hands either side of your head and started thrusting his hips harder and quicker. There was no teasing and you continued to moan his name, laboured breaths filling the air as you wrapped your legs around his waist and begged for more.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop.. fuck,” you said between your heavy breath and moans.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy, Y/N,” you felt his warm breath on your neck, closing your eyes as you got lost in how Hwoarang was treating you the way you loved; in tune with your body and knowing the perfect reactions and wants.

As he got closer to his release, he picked his upper body up, grabbing your waist to thrust his massive cock inside your deeper; he smirked as he made you cum again, glazing his cock with your body’s approval, soon filling up your beautiful pussy with his.

You felt warmth flood inside you, hearing Hwoarang’s loud orgasmic release, trying to catch his breath before pulling out and collapsing back onto the sofa, pleased but exhausted.

“That was amazing,” you said.

“It was,” he smiled, “glad we could end our anniversary with a bang,” no pun intended of course.

You giggled before you got up, cosied up to get your aftercare.

my links: masterlist | kofi | ao3

#anon message #anon ask #anon request #fanfiction request #tekken #hwoarang #tekken hwoarang #tekken hwoarang smut #fem!reader #hwoarang x fem!reader #hwoarang x reader #hwoarang x reader smut #smut #tekken smut #admirxation

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ladyrowrites · 2 months

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Promise Part 3

A/N: I just want to say, I freaking love Utahime right now!

Pairings: Gojo x Afab reader

Warning: Lots of angst and swearing, Mentions of cheating/alcohol, some degrading tones, Suicide and lots of death threats, MDNI!!!!

Wordcount: 7k+

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Chapter 3: Aftermath - The Spiraling

2 months later

Everything happened so fast as you busied yourself, moving on? After that drink at Utahime’s house, you wallowed in alcohol for about 3 more days and decided you need to get on your list.

Cut your hair (CHECK)

Quitting work. (Well not really because they relocated you to the place you were going and just by chance, Hawaii was one of them–CHECK)

Moving to a new place (CHECK)

You were sitting in a coffee shop that was near your new home and just doing some work when you saw a familiar face. No, he would not be here. But that bun and the peeking side hair… You both saw each other, confused at first but he smiled at you and went to your table.

“Suguru? What are you doing here?” You said surprisingly. This is so unexpected and of all places? What the fuck, universe?!

“Hey, mind if I sit here?” as he put his coffee down and sat. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He laughs softly.

“Uhm, no, I’m just really surprised.” You replied slowly.

“I just landed a few hours ago and had a client meeting. They wanted a vacation home near the ocean and you know how good I am at my job so they chose me to be their architect.” He said matter of factly, “So….this is where you went huh?” He was tiptoeing when he said that. Being careful not to hurt you or anything.

“Uh yeah.” Was all you said. You didn’t want anyone knowing where your new residence is except for your very close friends. Not even your parents or brother or any of your family members knew where you were. After canceling the wedding, everyone in your family except your brother was disappointed in you, especially your dad. He told you guys do that sort of thing every now and then and should have forgiven him. Your relatives were making side comments on how it was your fault he cheated. You were so done with everyone so you deleted all your social media accounts and changed your phone number. Only Utahime, Mei-Mei, Yuki, and Miwa know your new information. Now that Suguru found you, you were nervous as hell because you’ve been under the radar and you don’t want your peace disturbed again.

Suguru read your mind and said, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him.”

You looked confused, “Really? Why you guys fought or something?”

“Uh you can say that.” You looked more confused and gave him the side eye so Suguru laughed, “What? Best friends fight too you know? And also, let’s just get this straight, I didn’t like what he did to you. I was..” He looked at you deep in your eyes… you look so tired he thought, “Really disappointed at him.”

You just gave him a half-hearted smile. Of course, he pities you, everyone does. You eyed him suspiciously, “So you really just met me here by coincidence?”

“Yeah, I’m not stalking you. Why would I? Hmm? Except you wanted me to find you?” While crossing his arms. You just laughed softly at him. Hm, that genuine laugh has been a while.

“Fine, whatever.” You rolled your eyes at him.

He smirked at you, "By the way, love your new hair." You just tsked at him and went back to your work.

Since this surprising meeting, you have been seeing Suguru in the same coffee shop atleast 4x a week in the last 2 weeks. You talk about work and how you are adjusting to your life here. He said he’ll be going to Japan the next day but he’ll come back soon again to oversee his new architectural project.

“You know, I’m going to miss talking to you and your eye bags.” He jokingly mocked you.

“Miss me? I’m so boring to talk to and yah! My eye bags are my badge of honour.” You rolled your eyes again at him for the 5th time that day. If you’re being honest with yourself, you have been looking forward to your coffee shop visits. Suguru has been kind of like a fresh breath for the past 2 excruciatingly painful months. He tries his best to avoid talking about anything related to your ex-fiance and you’re thankful for that because you don’t know how much anymore you can handle.

The only thing keeping you afloat for life right now is work and after that you always try to go to the beach for walks and see the beautiful sunset. One time, you took Suguru on one of your walks by the beach because he insisted on dinner (He noticed you lost a lot of weight) but you have no appetite for anything so you convince him to watch the sunset instead. You both sat quietly while the wind was humming gently. He saw tears on your face but you wiped it quickly with your right hand. This must be what you were doing every late afternoon he thought. He wished he punched his best friend harder.

As it is the 2nd week of summer, you and your closest friends always had the tradition of going away for a week to do something together or even nothing. Just to hang out and catch up. This year, of course, they went to your new house to help you get more settled. There’s so many things you still need to buy for your new house and it was just kind of overwhelming for you so you only had the basics for now.

You couldn’t thank them enough as they helped you while you were settling here. Miwa was in charge of helping you find a house right away especially when all you said was just near the ocean. It was your only criteria. Mei-Mei was in charge of getting your car from your ex-fiance’s place and selling it. It wasn’t an easy task but it was a fit for Mei-Mei as Gojo pleaded to know where you are but all she replied was, “And do what? Break her heart some more, slut?” And drove off to the buyer. She was also helping Yuki cancel all your wedding plans. Yuki was able to get all your deposit from the catering and flower shop, thanks to her charms, which helped a ton because you sure needed the extra money.

Utahime was tasked with the hardest one. Your wedding dress. They called you as it was half done and they needed you to do fitting again for some adjustments. She volunteered to get your dress from the shop and the only thing you told her was, “Burn it for all I care.”

The last thing you texted your ex-fiance was, “I’m cancelling all the wasted wedding plans you fucked up. The only thing I need from you is to handle the wedding venue since you paid for it.”

And now you are here, making a small fire with your friends in your front yard, the beach. They said they wanted smores but, Utahime had another plans. She presented you your wedding gown. Holy shit. This was supposed to be your “dress”. The “dress” you were supposed to say yes to forever. It was an ethereal and airy look with lace tube on the top with cute puffy sleeves and silk flowing fabric bottom but there were still missing pieces on it. You were going to have a beach wedding in Bali but that was all in the past.

“I thought you threw them out.” You said tiredly while running your hands on your hair. They were all looking at you excitedly tho and you were just frustrated, yet again. Utahime just raised her eyebrows at you and smirked. All of your friends' hands were clasped together and looked at you, hoping you’re understanding what's about to happen.

You put your hands on your mouth, “Oh no… No… Are you guys?”

“OH YES!” They all said in unison

“BABY, LET IT FUCKING BURN!!!!!” Utahime yells, she hands you the dress, you looked at it sighing thinking the what ifs and how happy he would see you in this dress but your friends snapped you back to reality, “Girl do the fucking honour!” Mei-Mei nudges you.

Miwa plays ‘Burn by Usher’ and they all said, “Speech!”

You were caressing your dress and tears were spilling out yet again, but you cleared your throat and started singing the song played because there were no words left to say.

'I think that you should let it burn

When your feeling ain't the same and your body don't want to

But you know, gotta let it go 'cause the party ain't

Jumpin' like it used to, even though this might bruise you (No, no)

Let it burn, let it burn, gotta let it burn'

With each song lyrics, you slowly let your wedding dress go and watched it all engulfed in flames. They sang with you wholeheartedly. You all watched as your wedding dress turned to ash. You were also hoping your feelings for him would turn to ashes.

You excused yourself and told them that you were just going to grab more drinks. While you were in the kitchen, you heard a loud ping from your laptop. You forgot to turn off your work email and since you’re on vacation, you were going to turn it off when you saw who it was from.

To: y/n’s email address

From: [email protected]

Hey Y/N,

Hmm? I don’t know how to introduce myself… This is the circumstance I never wanted to be in but alas here we are. I’m the woman that Satoru slept with. I will not say sorry because I wanted it to happen and I knew he wanted it to happen too. He kept saying he will break up with you but he was taking so long so I just had to do something you know?

Anyway, we are pregnant. I don’t know why I am saying this to you but I kinda felt I have to? He said he didn’t want to be responsible for this but he has to.. So I’m emailing you to ask for your help because you know him best? Please? I don’t want my child to be fatherless. Please, don’t put this to your conscience….

Soon to be mom,

Anika

FUCK!

You began smashing all your glasses/plates, everything your hand falls to and all your friends heard, good thing the fire has been out, and they all ran to you worriedly.

“What happened, are you okay?” Utahime was the first one to get to you. You began wailing again and cursing at him. Miwa put her hands on her mouth, “Oh my fucking god.” And pointed at the email.

Yuki began reading it out aloud. Mei-Mei started cursing with you, “That's it! I will go back to Japan tonight and fucking kill that bitch whore mother fucker!!!!”

Utahime was just hugging you until you fell to the floor. Just when you were about to forget, it all comes crashing back to you. MAKE IT STOP! SOMEONE MAKE IT STOP, PLEASE!

Needless to say, this night was full of alcohol, swearing, death threats from all your friends to your assshole ex-fiancé and his slut. You were just quiet the whole night, done with everything. The fucking gall and audacity of that woman. TO ASK YOU FOR YOUR HELP TO GET YOUR EX-FIANCE TO—- UGH! You couldn’t even. What the fuck was happening? You were trying to get away from him, from all the toxicity but why was life still dragging him back to you?

Your friends were all drunk and passed out in your living room and you were the last woman standing. Your alcohol tolerance upped for sure from all the “numbing” you have been doing.

It’s 6am in the morning and the sun is shining brightly at your house as it is mostly windows facing the beach. You decided to stand up even though you were hazy from all the drinking. You went to the beach and your body started going in the water. You felt numb and lifeless as you walked down the sand. You just wanted this pain to end. ENOUGH WAS ENOUGH! There were no tears left and no words were enough to be said. Your heart wanted to sink and stop. You looked at how the water was so blue and clear - fuck, it reminds you of his eyes. You wanted to drown again – to look deeply in his cerulean eyes one more time so you began to walk more, away from the shore. Until water covers all of you. Your body slowly sinks and your eyes close steadily, trying to listen to your heart beat but it won’t start anymore.

Utahime woke up from the sun being in her eyes, she slowly opened them. She got up and began to look for you, “Y/N?” Y/N?” She searched in your room, bathroom, and even in your backyard, but you weren’t there.

She started to panic and she woke up all your friends. They all started to look for you when they had a realization that you might be in the ocean... No, you would not! They all looked at each other with their horrid faces and ran for their lives towards the beach.

As Yuki and Utahime were good swimmers, they both looked for you underwater while Miwa called 911 and Mei-Mei was on stand by to give you CPR. They were losing their shit when Yuki and Utahime came up from underwater and signaled not here. Their bodies start to go underwater again, desperate to find you.

Utahime’s eyes were clouded from crying but she has to find you. SHE HAS TO! She wouldn’t know what to do if something happens to you. She then decides the moment she finds you and you are safe. She is going to kill Gojo Satoru!!

Yuki was waving signals to Utahime saying she’s found you. Utahime swam so fast near her. You were there. Laying by the rock like you’re completely lifeless. SHIT! SHIT!!! PLEASE UNIVERSE!!!!!! NOT MY BEST FRIEND!

They immediately grabbed you and you all came up from the ocean. Miwa and Mei-Mei were holding their breath and when they both saw you with Utahime and Yuki, they were both relieved – crying and hugging. The paramedics were quick to help you three and one of them started to perform CPR. They were all crying and praying to every God that you’re okay. One of the paramedics said to Utahime and Yuki that they did good by finding you right away.

When you started coughing and opening your eyes, all your friends celebrated that you’re alive. They all looked at you hopeful and you just slowly nodded at them, conveying with your eyes that you’re sorry and you’re alive. Utahime lost her balance and started bawling, “I thought I lost you.” Yuki went to her side to hug her.

The paramedics said it’s better to take you to the hospital to check if everything is good with you. You nodded and Mei-Mei and Miwa said that they are going to be with you in the ambulance car but only one is allowed so Mei-Mei said she will go. Miwa said she will just Uber then. Yuki and Utahime will be there after changing.

“Come on, let’s go ‘Hime, Mei texted me, she’s in room 508.” While hurrying up to get Uber.

“No, I’ll be going to Japan. Promise me, you’ll take care of her ‘kay? I won’t be long.”

“What? Why are you going back? Enough of that, let’s just go now to the hospital!”

“No, Yuki, I have a business to finish with Gojo Satoru.” And with that Utahime left on the first flight going back.

GOJO’S LOFT – 10:15pm

Gojo was hanging out with Yuta, Nanami, Shoko, Sukuna, Choso, Todo, and surprisingly Suguru was there. Suguru was actually just forced to come by Shoko and also his friends hadn't seen him after that fun conversation with Gojo so he had no choice but to see them.

They were just drinking and playing Poker with bets.

“HAH I win you fucking fools!” Sukuna celebrates while taking everyone’s money.

“No you fucking cheat–!” Gojo taunts.

BAAAAG! BAAAAG! BAAAAAG! LOUD BANG FROM THE DOOR.

“Are you expecting anyone else?” Choso asks, Gojo shakes his head.

“GOJO SATORU!!!!!” Shoko and Nanami looked at each other and stood up fast. They went together to open the door, “WHERE IS HE??? WHERE’S THAT MOTHER FUCKING MURDERER?”

Nanami was holding off Utahime in her back.

“Utahime? What are you doing here? I thought you’re on vacation?” Todo comments.

“YEAH I WAS! AND NOW IT TURNED TO FUCKING HELL!” Then she points to Gojo, “BECAUSE OF YOU MURDERER!!!!”

“Woah, woah, you gotta chill.” Sukuna intervenes

Gojo was just looking at her stunned. Murderer? What did I do? He thought.

Suguru looks at her worriedly. What the hell is happening?

Utahime was shaking while bawling, “You fucking bring back my best friend!!!!!” She was trying to escape from Nanami’s arm and when she finally did, she went straight to Gojo and grabbed his shirt so aggressively and slapped him so hard that her hands were marked on his face.

Now Sukuna and Choso were trying to hold her back, “YOU FUCKING BRING BACK Y/N!!!! SHE’S LIFELESS!! SHE’S NOT HERSELF! DAMMIT! SHE DOESN’T EVEN LAUGH OR SMILE ANYMORE!! MY BEST FRIEND!!! WHO HAS SO FULL OF LIFE! SHE USED TO BE A HAPPY AND BUBBLY PERSON!!! YOU FUCKING BROKE HER!!! HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO HER? ALL SHE DID WAS LOVE YOU!!!” She began to kick Gojo, “YOU FUCKING FIX HER!!!!!! I DON'T FUCKING CARE HOW YOU DO IT! BUT YOU FIX HER!!! YOU…” She was losing strength and she slid slowly to the ground.

All Gojo could do was cry silently and look at her. Everyone was just shocked at what was happening.

In between sobs, Utahime told everyone what transpired and how you tried to take your own life and that’s how Gojo became a murderer in her eyes. Shoko was crying and started to apologize and hug Utahime. Suguru also came close to Utahime and asked him where you are and if you are safe.

Utahime nodded and told everyone that you are safe now. Nanami gave Utahime a glass of water to calm her down but when she received it, she got up and dumped the water to Gojo, “YOU FUCKING MAN UP!!!! FIX THIS!!! HAVE YOUR FUCKING SLUT STOP BOTHERING Y/N!!!!! UGH! I CAN FUCKING BURY YOU RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW!” While running her hands in her face and turning it to a fist, she's really holding back. So fucking hard, trying to hold back for her best friend.

Gojo could not even begin to process – you tried to? No, you? He was so ashamed of what he’s done. He doesn’t know what to do first.

“It was all a lie. All that bitch said. It’s a lie!” Gojo stands up and shakes Utahime. She slaps his hands and says, “I don’t care if it’s a lie or not! FUCKING FIX IT!!!!!!” And proceeds to slap his face AGAIN.

Utahime walks out while Suguru and Shoko tails behind her. All they heard was a loud crash when Gojo flipped the table and all its contents came flying and broken.

Utahime didn’t even care what he felt. She did her business and is now going back to you. If you couldn’t do the revenge yourself, she will do it for you because what are best friends for?

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

I hope all of you have an Utahime as your best friend <3

Tags: @username23345 @iamrgo1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Writing again soon,

Lady Ro

#lady ro writes #gojo angst #gojo fan fic #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fan fic #jujutsu kaisen fan fiction #jjk geto #utahime #jjk utahime #ladyro #geto #geto suguru

125 notes · View notes

thewillofdeez · 9 months

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thewillofdeez's Fanfiction Masterlist

Here's where you can find all of my published One Piece completed works and WIPs. All of my works can also be found on AO3 under the same name, thewillofdeez.

One Shots

Let Me Spoil You - Smoker x Reader, 18+ Twenty Questions - Goth fam with some Mihawk x OC Incompatible - Shanks x Reader angst Mihawk vs The Seals - Light goth fam silliness A Very AkaTaka Birthday - Mihawk/Shanks/Reader threesome, 18+

Alphabet Series - WIP, updated as I feel like it

Dracule Mihawk NSFW Alphabet - 18+ Dracule Mihawk SFW Alphabet Shanks NSFW Alphabet - 18+ Shanks SFW Alphabet (Law, Beckman, Smoker, and maybe Buggy, Marco, and Izou to come. Maybe others too, IDK.)

The Warlord and the Revolutionary - WIP - Mihawk x OC, goth fam - currently all ages but that might change

Chapter 1: Unexpected Visitors Chapter 2: The Longest Night Chapter 3: The Reunion Chapter 4: Reminiscing Chapter 5: Laughing in the Rain Chapter 6: Over the Transponder Snail Chapter 7: Bonding Chapter 8 coming soon-ish?

Worth the Risk - COMPLETED - Smoker x OC - 18+

Chapter 1: Confession, Part 1 Chapter 2: Changing Currents Chapter 3: Decisions Chapter 4: Confession, Part 2 Epilogue

50/50 - WIP - Shanks x OC and Beckman x OC - 18+

Chapter 1: Meetings and Propositions Chapter 2: Conditions and Compromise Chapter 3: Old Friends and New Chapter 4: Rescue and Reconciliation Chapter 5: Strength and Love

Unpublished WIPs

Love and Business - Cross Guild with Mihawk x OC

#one piece x reader #one piece smut #one piece smoker #one piece headcanons #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #akagami no shanks #red haired shanks #captain smoker #op smoker x reader #smoker one piece #akagami no shanks x reader #red haired shanks x reader #benn beckman #one piece goth fam

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zoeysdamn · 1 year

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Bloodied petals | Xavier Thorpe x reader | Part.5

Summary: Heartbroken by Xavier’s rejection, you know that your days are numbered now. Enid has your back as a dutiful roommate and manages to convince you to go to the Rave’n – even if it’s the last place where you want to be. Maybe some unexpected bonding time with Bianca cannot be that bad, before some terrible news is delivered.

Warnings: angst™, mentions of blood, swearing, underage drinking, description of a panic attack. English isn’t my mother tongue.

A/N: I know I’ve promised some fluff in this chapter buuuutttt this is already so long like omg so, sorry guys you’ll have to wait for the next one :DD

[Masterlist] [Part.1] [Part.2] [Part.3] [Part.4]

It was a weird feeling to know that you were going to die soon. In the two days following Xavier’s rejection, you had basically locked yourself in your room, a basin always at hand’s reach. You didn’t even try to hide it anymore when Wednesday was around, besides you were kind of busy throwing up every single flower and petal to care about her occasional pitiful looks. She wasn’t particularly having remorses, but the knowledge that her roommate was down a dreadful path didn’t please her either. You had been kind to her without being too nosy, so she tolerated you. But you couldn’t care less about Wednesday Addams’ second thoughts at the moment. All of your chest and throat felt like a burning fire most of the time and it felt like the whole Nevermore glasshouse was growing in your lungs.

In an attempt to try to delay the growth of the plants a little, you had concocted a potion you drank three times a day. There was no cure for Hanahaki disease, but it was still plants. So you had made a potion that would basically act like a weed killer. The taste was horrendous and it burned your throat almost as much as the flowers themselves, but at least it seemed to slow down their growth a little. It means that you still could pretend it was just the flu when you coughed during class and managed to hide away the flowers, but that you were curled up on your bed or over the toilets for the rest of the time.

The tricky part was to hide it from Enid. You loved your other roommate, but she was so sweet and excited about the upcoming ball, you didn’t have the heart to tell her what was really going on. She wouldn’t be able to get it out of her mind and you didn’t want to burden her with it. You always managed to flee the room just in time when she was there and you felt the coughs starting to get stronger. Fortunately, she still didn’t notice anything. Although, you knew that at some point you would have to disclose the truth to her. So you had decided to tell everything to Enid after the Rave’n and the parents' weekend following. She surely had enough on her plate for the time being. Like, convincing Wednesday to go shopping for the upcoming ball.

“C’mon, it’ll be a fun outing between roomies!” she said excitedly while Wednesday kept her unfazed expression.

“I’d rather burn my own eyes with acid rather than mingle with teenagers ready to fight over a stupid piece of fabric.”

From your bed, you rolled your eyes behind the book you were reading. On any other day, you would have chuckled at Wednesday’s antics, but the harsh tone she always used to answer Enid's kind ideas was starting to get on your nerves. Couldn’t she just say a plain no?

Luckily, Enid had an optimistic personality, “Come ooooon, just one little shopping session between roomies, please please pleeaseee! I bet even Y/N thinks it’s a good idea, right Y/N?”

The sudden mention of your name in the discussion made you jump a little and you looked up from the pages. Enid looked at you expectedly, a large smile on her face.

“I’m not going to the Rave’n,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. You wouldn’t give Wednesday the satisfaction of seeing you cry and an occasion to ramble again about how weak your feelings made you. This made Enid gasp.

“What! Why?”

“Don’t have a date, and don’t want to go,” you simply mumbled, not without giving a glance at the pigtailed girl. It wasn’t entirely her fault, you couldn’t manipulate Xavier’s feelings for you; still, you couldn’t help but feel bitter.

Enid looked between the two of you and made a small “oh” in understanding. “But- but you don’t need a date to go!” she tried to reassure you, changing the subject quickly. “You can go on your own! Independent women don’t need a man to do what they want, right?”

You snickered at this, “Playing the feminist card won’t work this time Enid. I don’t want to go to have the whole school whispering at how pathetic I look on my own.”

Both of your roommates felt kind of sorry for you at that moment. Of course not, in the same way, Wednesday was more bored of this whole ordeal and was slightly saddened by the fact an acceptable roommate was turning bitter. It wasn’t a pretty colour on you and she might have lost a valuable ally.

“Come on Y/N,” pleaded Enid again, “you don’t look so good these days, some fresh air could be good for you!”

For a moment you felt the tip of your tongue burning with a witty comeback, something about her argument being not really convincing, but you retained yourself. Then you let out a long sigh. “Fine,” you conceded because it was hard to resist Enid’s pleading eyes, “but only because you need a fashion chaperone and you said please.”

“Yes!” squealed Enid, clapping her hands, “it’ll be so fun! I’m gonna tell Miss T we’re all going to Jericho, see you at the entrance in 10 minutes!”

She waltzed out of the room, grabbing her pink jean jacket on the way and blessedly unaware of the tension she left behind. Ignoring the heavy look of Wednesday you got up from the bed and started to put your shoes on.

“I didn’t know you wanted to go to that stupid ball,” said Wednesday. Were that undertones of guilt you heard in her voice?

“I don’t,” you groaned, “I just wished…you know what, forget it you wouldn’t get it anyway.”

“If it’s about Xavier being my date then no need to be so petty about this,” she said rolling her eyes, “I’m just using the occasion to watch him and find out if he’s the monster or not.”

You let out a bitter laugh, flabbergasted by her words. “Do you realize how much worse it is? You know what I feel for Xavier, and you’re inviting him to interrogate him? Holy fuck.”

“I’m trying to stop a monster here Y/N,” she deadpanned flatly. “There’s no need for bitter behaviour.”

Exhaling loudly through your nostrils, you turned to her with a harsh glare. “I’m not jealous of you, Wednesday. The only thing that makes me mad is the fact that Xavier accepted to go with you barely a minute after I confessed to him.”

This time Wednesday’s eyebrows rose up high, probably not expecting that. She had thought that you were only jealous of her and the proximity that her invitation to Xavier might imply to a random mind. Teenagers and young adults were guided by their primal emotions after all, but you were shaking all of her certainties.

“I’m just heartbroken really,” you sighed while putting on your jacket, tears once again ready to flow, “so drop it, I’m just going to humour Enid and clear my head.”

Just as you were about to close the room’s door, you heard Wednesday speak again, “I don’t know much about romantic feelings, but I think you’re rightfully upset. Thorpe is a fool.”

That made you pause for a moment, “Yeah, I know,” you breathed out quietly.

That was the closest of a nice thing Wednesday could tell you.

Unsurprisingly, your gothic roommate abandoned the rest of your odd trio in front of the clothes store a few minutes later. She had to snoop around god-knows-where, so it was just Enid and you. The werewolf looked around, barely containing her excitement or her shopping spree. You only browsed through the racks mind-absently, not really looking at the clothes or listening to her happy banter. Which she noticed.

“Sooo, what’s with the long face?” she asked innocently. “You’re not one to usually skip parties.”

“I’m just not feeling like going this time, nothing big,” you mumbled. You hoped that Enid would drop the subject. She didn’t.

“Is this…about Wednesday?” she dared to ask, and offered you a sorry smile when you whipped your head at her. “Is this because she invited Xavier? I know you’re close to him and–”

“This is not about Wednesday,” you snapped at her, irritably. Why did people keep assuming you had the role of the jealous bitch?

Enid’s slight jump made you sigh; you shouldn’t have snapped at her like that. “Look, it’s just…I’m tired, okay? Besides, this isn’t about Wednesday, it’s about Xavier.”

Your roommate’s face suddenly lit up and she gasped, “You’re jealous of Xavier?? You mean you and Wednesday–”

You frowned while letting out a surprised laugh, “What? No! If anything, she’s more your type than mine.”

Enid’s cheeks lit up slightly, “She’s not!” she defended herself fiercely – too much to be honest. You chuckled; you definitely had to tease her about this later.

“Your type involves two kinds of people: love-stuck but dumb gorgons and mysterious unfazed goth girls,” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“This- this- this isn’t about me, don’t try to escape the subject!” she sputtered, cheeks flaming red. “And wait a minute? Did you say that the problem was Xavier? Oh my god,” she beamed, “did you finally realize that you loved him? That’s so great!!”

Your face darkened at that and you cast your eyes elsewhere to hide your shame, “Not really no,” you whispered. “He doesn’t love me back.”

“What??” screamed Enid, loud enough for a few other customers to glare at your pair. You threw them a sorry look before giving Enid a disapproving stare. “What?” she repeated, whisper-shouting this time, “what do you mean he doesn’t love you? He totally does!”

“Well, turns out he doesn’t,” you said in a sad tone you couldn’t hold back. “I kissed him and…and he told me that he doesn’t love me back, end of the story.”

She stood there, mouth agape in utter shock. At her frozen face, you only shrugged weakly like it was nothing.

“What? But how? This can’t be, you guys are like the most likely future couple in the whole school!”

Tears burned your eyes and you tried so hard to not let them fall. “Well, since he agreed to go to the Rave’n with Wednesday less than five minutes after I told him…guess it’s pretty much obvious.”

“He did WHAT?” shouted Enid, earning a few angry glares once more. But she couldn’t care less, she was furious. “And you were there??”

You nodded weakly. “I heard them, yeah.”

“That FUCKER, you just kissed him and confess to him and he has the audacity to say yes to another girl’s invite? Argh!” she ranted, throwing her hand in the air ragefully. “The nerve of that piece of shit!”

“Woah Enid Sinclair, you kiss your dad with that mouth?” you chuckled, slightly taken aback by the loss of her temper.

“Yeah and I have every right, I’m fucking mad at him Y/N!” she fumed, angrily putting back a dress she had been holding for that time. “He acted like a dick and now you’re miserable!”

“It’s nothing Enid,” you mumbled.

She grabbed your hand over the rack with pleading eyes. “He broke your heart Y/N, this isn’t nothing.”

You gulped slowly, a single tear sliding down your cheek. Even with trembling lips, you managed to articulate something, “It’ll pass eventually.” Squeezing her hand lightly, you tried to give her the most reassuring look you could put on.

The sad wincing she let out was heartbreaking, “Oh girl…”

Whipping your tears you refocused on the clothes on the rack.

“So,” you said more lightly, clearly trying to change the subject, “what do you want to wear? I think you’ll look terrific in feathers.”

The bone-crushing hug she tugged you in surprised you, almost squeezing all air out of you. Enid had come around the rack so quickly you hadn’t even noticed her coming over to tackle you in a bear hug.

“Woah, calm down wolfie,” you chuckled weakly, “what with the sudden burst of affection?”

Her laugh was muffled by the way her face was buried in your shoulder, “Don’t act so surprised, you know this was coming. This is your roommate’s heartbreak mandatory hug.”

You wanted to reply something, but honestly, the words were stuck in your throat. Tears prevented you from saying anything. So instead, you returned the hug, hands gripping tightly Enid’s back. It was warm, friendly and frankly, the kindest thing someone had ever done to you for the past few days. You let yourself sink into the hug, letting its warmth envelop you in much-needed affection. When a small sob rocked your body, you realized how much you had craved that.

Slightly tugging away from the hug, Enid took both of your hands, “Look I know everything feels like shit right now, but let me help you with this okay? Come to the ball, it’ll lift your spirit a little. Just between us girls, in our best outfits, drinking cheap cocktails, and dancing to lame electro music until our feet bleed, it’ll be fun!”

Her joyful tone made you smile. In a way, it might be the last party you would attend…the disease was already quite serious, and now that Xavier had rejected you, the chances of healing had simply vanished away. So if you had not much longer to live, why not have the more fun you could? Why not experience everything you could since it’ll soon be over? One last party before the dark no matter how your chest ached.

“Fuck Xavier and his ungrateful ass,” continued Enid, “you’re gonna have fun and enjoy this ball like the queen you are, okay roomie? And don’t you dare turn this down because I–”

“I’ll come,” you cut her off.

“Because believe m– you what?”

“I will come to the Rave’n,” you repeated with a weak but honest smile. “Independent women don’t need anybody, right?”

She beamed at you as she realized that you quoted her and brought you into another bone-crushing hug. Her heartwarming reaction made you laugh; she was right, you could use the Rave’n to change your mind, even if it wouldn’t be so easy. But Enid had this strange power of convincing people to do what was best for them. Maybe she was the witch in your dorm after all.

Spending the rest of the day snooping around the shop and digging to find perfect outfits had the merit to alleviate your pain and forget about the flowers a little. This was all you could ask for these days.

To say that you were excited about the Rave’n was an exaggeration. Three days or so before the ball, you had a newfound thrill about it thanks to Enid, but your mood had decreased in the meantime. First, because your health hadn’t gone better despite the potion you’ve been taking. It slowed down the growing process, sure, but weed killer was still poison. And second, words had spread that Xavier had dumped Wednesday for the Rave’n. This didn’t sadden you per se, but a small, naive part of yourself had secretly hoped that he would invite you instead. This was silly but for the briefest moment, you had thought that he would, at least because you were best friends. He didn’t.

So it was half-heartedly that you applied some light make-up before the dance, your white outfit hanging on the door of your closet. Enid’s energy was barely enough to make you smile but you had promised her you would come. When her date came to pick her up at the door she gave you an excited wave of the hand, reminding you to find her later when you arrive at the party. She didn’t want to rush you or pressure you if you didn’t want to arrive this early, and you were grateful for that. The more time passed, the more your already thin will to go seemed to vanish. And yet, you sighed and grabbed your outfit with you to get changed in the bathroom. While you had felt empty most of the day, something tiny and warmth erupted in you when you got a look at yourself in the mirror once changed. You had picked long white palazzo pants, with an equally white corset top that showed off your shoulders and arms; flowy thin off-the-shoulder sleeves gave an impression of weightlessness like it was effortless to be here. Perfect to hide the reality of the pain dragging along your steps. But…the longer you looked at yourself in the mirror, the stronger this pleasant - albeit quite weak - feeling grew. For the first time, you actually found yourself pretty. The discreet silver embroidery of stars and constellations on the corset and the platform heels of your favourite colour were nice additions. Of a sudden, you started to feel nostalgic. In a way, this night was your last outing with a large crowd of people you knew, and most of them would probably never see you again. A strange feeling of confidence rushed by; not the one when you feel powerful by the way you look or carry yourself, but one of the ethereal moments, frozen in time yet ephemeral. You hadn't particularly made a difference in your short life but at least you were glad that you could shine for one last dance, clothed in white before the red of your blood would take over.

Whipping a treacherous tear that had made its way to the corner of your eye, you then squared your shoulders. With a last long inspiration for strength, you exited the bathroom.

Seeing your other roommate packing a bag, you frowned slightly.

"You're going somewhere?"

"Eugene and I are going to watch over the cave we discovered," she said simply, packing a flashlight, "it's highly likely to be the monster's den."

"Eugene? Ottinger?" you asked, surprised by her unconventional choice of companion. At her sharp nod, your face turned into a concerned expression. "I'm glad he's with you then, but…be careful, okay?"

She snapped her head in your direction, "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Yeah, but Eugene's not. He's a good kid, he doesn't deserve to be hurt," you insisted.

You didn't know Eugene Ottinger that well, firstly because he was younger and a class below you, but you had met him on various occasions especially about bees when some of your potions required honey. But he was a kind boy, and the knowledge that he was going close to a supposed monster nest wasn't reassuring at all.

And seemingly, Wednesday saw your worry and you could swear that you saw her hardened expression ease a little.

"He will be safe with me," she said. "Besides I'm the only one allowed to torture him. Bee code."

That pulled a small smile out of you. Under her tough armour, Wednesday actually had a soft side. Not wanting to push it further, you quietly made your way to the door; no need to delay the party further. Swinging the door open, you stopped dead in your tracks at the unexpected sight of a familiar figure. Tyler stood there dressed head to toe in white, fidgeting nervously.

“Oh,” he said, almost as surprised as you. “Hi Y/N.”

“Galpin,” you greeted dryly.

He scratched the back of his head, mouth opening like he was about to say something. You swore that if he was about to sweet-talk you by making an actual compliment you were going to punch him. Fortunately for him, he didn’t. “Is- uh, is Wednesday here?”

You arched an eyebrow at his question. Or more accurately, at Tyler Galpin being at your dorm room dressed to the nines and asking for your roomie. “Sure,” you said, “Wednesday, there’s someone for you.”

She said something about Eugene being on time and you didn’t need to look at her to feel her freeze next to you when she reached the door. A very awkward beat passed, and then you decided that you definitely didn’t want to witness the strange conversation that would follow. Slipping away you caught a brief look at Thing hiding inside the room. This was going to be an interesting story to hear about later.

Going down the stairs of the Ophelia wing, you started to get cold feet about this party. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea, after all? But before you even thought about going back to your dorm you were already at the party, and Enid had definitely seen you. Her enthusiastic gasp made some of your friends’ heads turn.

“Y/N, you look so pretty!” she exclaimed as you approached them, shyly greeting the rest of them.

Ajax let out a low whistle, “Well, none of you told us this was an actual fashion show or what.”

“Nice outfit, I second the shoes,” said Yoko with a smirk.

“Thanks guys,” you said almost shyly.

“You’re like Glenda the witch of the East!” beamed Enid, which made some of the others chuckle.

You thanked her and went to grab the two of you some drinks. Apparently, her date was supposed to but he stood rather awkwardly in the middle of the Nevermore students' crowd. Returning with the blue drinks in hand you cheered with the small group of friends, swinging gently at the music rhythm while everyone arrived. You even caught sight of Principal Weems, a somehow proud smile plastered on her face as she chaperoned the whole party. Everyone seemed to have a good time and it warmed your heart. One of your last memories of your school and its students, it was a good one.

But then, you heard Enid gasp.

“Oh my god, look who’s there.”

You whipped your head, expecting the surprise appearance of Wednesday at Tyler’s arm – if she hadn’t eaten him alive first. Instead, you felt your heart leap in your throat like a freezing iceberg to the bottom of the ocean. Cladded in white and hair tightly brought in a bun like he often did, Xavier walked in. And on his arm in a stunning silver backless dress, Bianca. Before you could stop yourself you choked on your drink, a coughing fit rocking your whole body ungracefully.

“Shit, you’re alright?” immediately asked Enid.

You wiped the corner of your mouth slightly, just to make sure you didn’t actually drool on yourself. “Yeah,” you mumbled, “be right back, ‘m gonna fetch me another drink.”

Dodging her questions or the questioning looks of people around you sped to the minibar. Once you made sure no one saw you, you hurled over your drink and let a large white bloodied flower drown down your glass. The red blood distilled into the blue tint of the cocktail, melting like deadly poison. That made you wince and you put down your drink on the table, hidden behind some bottles. You picked another clean glass of this whatever-virgin cocktail and waved discreetly your hand above it. Taking a sharp swing of it you were secretly glad to feel the familiar sting down your frown. At least you still had enough power to cast this spell transforming water into liquor. This night was going to require much stronger than soft drinks.

From that moment, the Rave’n took a more bittersweet turn for you. It was hard to not glance at Xavier or Bianca – which, if you had done, would have made you realize that the vibes were awkwardly cold between the two of them. Even though Enid and Yoko tried to distract you, dragging you to the dance floor and trying to make you laugh. Their antics worked as you ended up swaying and dancing along to the loud techno music, pretending it didn’t pierce your ear drums. You didn’t even flinch at Wednesday’s sudden appearance, her black dress parting the crowd of white outfits like the red sea. It wasn’t your time to care, nor did you want to. The glass of booze you had certainly helped; you weren’t drunk, not even tipsy, just feeling light-headed enough to tune down, for a few minutes, the aching pain in your heart. The feeling of weightlessness was numbing and soothing, but not enough to forget the plaguing thought of your sickness. Or the weight of Xavier’s rejection, rubbed in your face by his arrival with Bianca.

When a more slow song started, this artificial euphoria wore off slowly. And the feeling of your loneliness became very real again. The room became too crowded, too much to handle and you walked out of it, like a zombie. Finding a seat outside you plopped down unceremoniously. Your legs ached, maybe you had tired yourself out in the end. As tiredness sank into your bones, numbness overtook you whole once again. Not quite like before, like a soothing caress, more like a piercing melancholy wrapping around you like a comforting, yet exclusive blanket. Nothing had felt more empty before, but your lonely being with eyes haggard and heart bleeding out of your chest.

The sound of a deep sigh made you realize that someone had taken a seat near you, and you were surprised to see none other than Bianca on the other side of the sofa. She didn’t look too happy either.

Unable to stop the words from coming out of your mouth, you blurted.

“Are you alright?”

The siren whipped her head to you, icy blue eyes half throwing daggers, half…sad?

“Why do you care?”

Her harsh tone could sound rude, but you knew better than that. Your question had been incredibly random, you weren’t even sure that Bianca actually wished to talk with you, but you recognized the hurt in her eyes.

At your unfazed expression, she sighed once again, “I’m sorry for that,” she excused herself, “this was uncalled for.”

You only shrugged, “I guess this is what I get for spoiling your evening.”. Bianca’s eyebrows rose slightly at your bitter tone. This wasn’t usual for you.

“You’re not the one ruining my night, trust me,” she mumbled, glancing at the ballroom.

Following her gaze, your eyes landed on Xavier, sitting at one of the tables and gaze locked on Wednesday and her date. His knuckles were white and his jaw clenched. If this sight made your heart break a little more, you were pretty sure that Bianca’s did too.

The siren sighed and accepting her defeat, slumped in her seat. Bianca Barclay never slumped.

“He’s not mine anymore, isn’t he?” she whispered out loud.

Your eyes widened at her. Of all people you really didn’t expect Bianca to confide in you. Sensing your disbelief she turned her blue eyes to you. They were glossy with tears.

“I’m not sure I’m the one who can help you with that,” you said with a sorry look.

She scoffed lightly, but the sad look was still plaguing her traits, “I think you can, Y/N. Since when do you love him, exactly?”

The question slightly took you aback. When they had started dating, Bianca had kind of cornered you to give you the classic speech, new girlfriend to best friend, halfway to threats, and had asked you if you loved Xavier then. You had to say no. But now…this wasn’t the same prideful, powerful and confident girl, looking forward to ensuring her superiority. This was the teary-eyed, heartbroken girl who seek answers to get some sort of closure. Who were you to deny her that?

So you sighed, and cast your eyes on your lap, “A long time,” you muttered quietly.

She hummed knowingly; this may be the first time you actually heard her being tired. “To be honest, I was glad he accepted my invitation,” she told you, like confidence. “But I was surprised he didn’t invite you first.”

You coughed weakly, not even bothering to be careful of Bianca seeing the eventual petals that could come out. “Yeah me too,” you whispered, “but it doesn’t matter now.”

Bianca tilted her head, a bit surprised by your words, “Yes it does.”. At your raised eyebrow, she nodded in Xavier’s direction. “Wednesday’s not the only one occupying his mind tonight. He may think he got a poker face, but he doesn’t.”

Out of reflex, you looked once again at Xavier. The blue and yellow lights of the party shone on him, highlighting each of his sharp features. A sob made its way into your throat and you blocked it just before it escaped your mouth. Everything just hurt so much.

“I don’t know what happened between you two recently,” said Bianca with an unknown softness, “but he does care. He worries about you, I know that”

A cough wrecked your body, allowing petals and flowers to fly out of your mouth through your painful throat. Clamping a hand over your mouth under the siren’s perplexed eyes, you sighed in relief when the fit ended. Opening your hand to see as usual blood-coated flowers, you felt your chest ache.

“Well, maybe his concerns won’t be enough this time,” you said weakly. Throwing away the flowers carelessly you avoided Bianca’s concerned gaze. “Maybe I should’ve thought about myself first, for once.”

She let out a dry and tired laugh, “I second that. Maybe I should have too.”

You offered a weak smile. No matter how much you both had, or loved Xavier, you couldn’t deny anymore the hurt it brought upon you. Especially upon you.

“I’m sorry for having invited Xavier,” finally muttered Bianca.

You shrugged, “Don't be. You had every right to try your chance. I knew this might happen”

She nodded, silently appreciating the lack of hate. You were far too tired to give that. “What made you come here, then?”

Remembering your roommate’s words, you smiled a little, “Something along the line of independent women not needing anybody.”

Bianca chuckled at that. Whoever told you that was right.

The arrival of another siren, blessedly unaware of the unexpected and open-heart conversation that had been going on, distracted Bianca from you. Her ability to put on a bright smile in the blink of an eye impressed you. You took that as your cue and got up, returning to the party before Enid or anyone would get worried. This strange bonding time reminded you why you had come in the first place: no matter how broken your heart was, this was about you and getting one last fun night before the dark.

No one could really tell for how long you had been dancing again. Arms up, flowing along the music like nothing around you mattered. In a way, it did. Blurry faces of your friends and smiles that you didn’t know who they belonged to. It was like your mind had blacked out from the rest. Nothing could reach you; not the plaguing thought of your upcoming passing, not the burning sensation through your lungs, the tickling and bitter scrap of petals trying to crawl out of your throat, or the heavy burden of your broken heart. It was just you; for the first time, it was just you and it didn’t frighten you so much anymore.

A warm drop sliding down your forehead broke you out of your trance, making your eyes flutter open. All the students were still dancing without the slightest care of the world, and you thought that you had maybe imagined things. Reaching for the damp spot, you brushed your fingers against it and gave them a look. A sticky, deep red liquid coated them. And before you could wonder what was happening, all hell broke loose. Torrential rain of blood sprouted out of the room’s sprinklers, drenching everyone in the blink of an eye. All the white outfits turned into a deep crimson shade and scream erupted everywhere. Terrified students ran, trying to find cover the best they could, and in the middle of it all, you stood frozen in place.

As soon as the bloody liquid had started to pour it had been like reality had come crashing in. The rational part of your brain screamed at you to run away, to find a shelter; but your eyes were stuck on your trembling hands, bathed in red. Flashes of white flowers and petals echoed in front of your eyes in a never-ending fall, your heart started to spin and suddenly you couldn’t hear anything but the loud and panicked beats of your heart. Like an infernal spiral, your mind started to fall apart, replaying uncomplete scenes in your head; the burning sensation in your chest, tearing your body apart as you gagged blood mixed with flowers, the vision like from far away, of your own body losing grip on itself and laying cold on the ground for merely seconds that still felt like hours, the waking up in cold sweat in the middle of the night, trying to scream but being unable to because of your throat stuffed with petals. God, why did anybody hear the deafening thumping of your blood behind your temples? They were so loud, and your chest, it ached so much! Maybe somebody was calling out for you, you didn’t know. It felt like your head was stuck in cotton wool, and your body trapped within the spiralling of your own mind. And why did it hurt so much, why couldn’t your chest burst open once and for—

“Y/N!!” shouted a voice over the terrified screams. “Y/N we have to go!”

You knew that voice, that you were certain of it. It was the grip on your arm that made you snap back into reality a second later. Drenched in red, Xavier looked at you with frightened eyes.

“You heard me? We have to go!” he repeated.

It took your brain a few more seconds to reconnect fully to reality. It wasn’t fast enough for your legs to register how to walk on your own, so Xavier had to drag you along behind him, trying to reach the room’s exit the quickest way possible. You wondered how long it had taken him to notice that you hadn’t tried to get out on your own.

Someone bumping into you managed to get your mind focused fully again. Catching the smaller frame of Wednesday out of reflex, you immediately noticed that something was wrong. Eyes blown wide and head thrown backwards, something was going on. Immediately, you and Xavier tried to call her, to get her out of this frightening trance. She gasped for air merely a second after, like someone had just resurrected her.

“Eugene’s in danger,” she whispered immediately.

“What?? You let him go on his own?” you snapped back.

“He’s in the woods he’s in danger, I see him he’s in danger,” she continued to ramble, almost like a chant.

Swearing under your breath, you immediately let go of Wednesday muttering a hurried “keep an eye on her” to a flabbergasted Xavier; then you didn’t waste a single second and sprinted out of the room. Damn be your newfound motto about thinking about putting yourself first, you weren’t going to let that kid die.

Reaching the outlines of the wood you cursed loudly at your impractical platforms and quickly got rid of them. Then your erratic run resumed.

“Eugene!” you called from the top of your lungs. “Eugene, where are you?!”

Nothing but silence answered you but you didn’t give up and continued to run, hoping to not be too late. A harsh burning clamped your heart, maybe from the running; it seemed that you didn’t register anymore the petals your body unconsciously rejected now. It roamed through your lungs, making it difficult to breathe now. A sharp wheeze escaped your mouth as a particular rough fit of coughing shook your body, forcing you to stop your run for a moment, leaning on a nearby tree for support. Your lungs tugged on themselves, trying to cling to air for your dear life but nothing could go past through your blood and flowers-filled throat. You choked on nothing, tears springing from the corners of your eyes.

Before you could regain control of your own body, your knees buckled under you and you dropped onto the muddy forest floor, wheezing and clawing at your throat. You gurgled and heaved up a large group of flowers bathing in blood. The feeling of it dripping on your chin and petals stuck inside your mouth wasn’t even the worst.

Then your ears picked up something in the distance. Ever so faintly, a weeping sound. Like pleas, a rasping voice weakly calling out for help.

“Eugene,” you whispered.

Out of instinct, you tried to push yourself standing but your legs flinched under your own weight and you fell limply on the ground. Some more blood escaped your half-opened mouth, dripping on your chest with the other discarded flowers. Eyelids feeling heavy, you started to feel lightheaded as the world around you began to swirl. You tried to move, but even lifting your hand felt impossible.

The sound of hurried footsteps reached your ears, but you couldn’t find the strength to turn over to see who it was. Then without a warning, they turned you over, back on the ground. Wednesday.

“Y/N, did you see the monster? Where’s Eugene??”

Any word that you tried to form came out as pathetic gurgling sounds. The Addams’ eyes flickered to your blood-covered chin, then to the flowers on your chest and on the ground.

“How did that happen?” she asked hurriedly, “did you see Eugene??”

Finally managing to articulate something, you croaked, “...further…down…heard him…please hurry…”

She gripped your hand, looking like she was torn apart between staying with you or looking out for your lost comrade. Sensing her dilemma even with a blurred mind, you weakly squeezed her hand back as an encouragement.

“Go help…him…’f not too late…”

She nodded frantically, almost trembling, “Others are on their way Y/N,” she tried to reassure you, “hold on tight, okay? You’re going to make it.”

You could only nod weakly. But as Wednesday was about to get up, an unknown surge of panic gave you enough energy to grip her forearm tightly. Snapping her head back at you, her eyes widened even more at the pleading expression that faced her.

“Please…” you whimpered, “don’t…don’t let him…see me like this…”

Tears roamed down your cheeks freely, and you felt your strength leave your body with every passing second.

“What?” she asked in confusion.

You wheezed weakly, “d…don’t let him think…think…that it w…as his f-fault,” you pleaded before letting your gripping hand fall on the floor with a thud.

The following seconds felt like hours. The weight of your body seemed enough to bury you in the ground. Some shouts were heard in the distance. Before your mind blacked out, you remembered the shouting voice of Xavier screaming your name. Then the night took over.

The smell of sanitized belongings was the first thing your brain registered when you emerged into consciousness again. Then the white light, blinding even behind closed eyelids. You heard and felt your whole body groan in pain. It was considerably tuned down from what you were used to, still, soreness erupted through your limbs. After a solid minute of struggling you finally opened your eyes.

Awakening in a hospital bed wasn’t something you had ever wished for in your life. Yet, here you were apparently. Taking a look around with groggy eyes, you didn’t even notice a nurse walking by, or her saying something about notifying your legal guardian. It was only a few minutes later when Principal Weems entered your room that you connected the dots. At least, the best you could with your still fuzzy brain.

“Miss L/N,” she said in a soft tone that was tainted with relief, “I’m glad you’re finally awake.”

“I- how long was I out?” you rasped, tongue feeling pasty.

“Almost an entire day,” answered the principal, closing the door behind her. “How are you feeling?”

You winced slightly, a lingering pain piercing your chest still, “Sore. What happened? Did- did you find Eugene?”

Weems pursed her lips but still nodded, “Mr Ottinger is fine, he’s currently getting some treatment in this hospital as well.”

You let out a relieved sigh. At least, Eugene was safe; but she still hadn’t answered all your questions.

As she could read your mind, Weems approached your bed, a serious look on her face.

“Miss Addams and Mister Thorpe found you in the woods,” she started. At the mention of Xavier’s name, your eyes widened in panic. Oh no, what had he seen? How much did he know? Principal Weems narrowed her eyes at your reaction but still carried on, “It seemed that you had passed out from hypoglycemia; at least, that is what both of them believe.”

Her words made you frown slightly, not quite understanding where she was getting at. The serious look on her face, cold like a stone, didn't make you feel any better. But at the same time, you thought you could detect…sadness?

Principal Weems sat on the chair next to your bed and pulled out a folder from her bag.

“The doctors who had auscultated you gave me this,” she said, pulling two blue and white plastic sheets.

The first glance at the x-rays was enough for you to know exactly what it was about.

“We need to talk about whatever this is, miss L/N.”

[Part.6]

A/N: sooo I know I've promised some fluff but this was already so long omg, it'll be on the next part :') Enid roasting Xavier is my new religion not gonna lie (and I couldn't resist hinting a small Enid x Wednesday I'm weak okay) Also: can we please talk about Bianca's outfit at the Rave'n??? I like this character a lot honestly, because well...she's relatable as fuck. I thought she was going to be branded as the cliché school bitch but she's just a teenage girl who's dealing with shitty family problems and broke up with her boyfriend in a kind of rocky way. Yeah, maybe some petty behaviour at the beginning of the show was bitchy, but she's a teenager; we all were bitchy somehow Anyway, I hope you liked this part, I'm currently working on the next, take care of you♥♥

Taglist: [COMPLETE AND CURRENTLY HAVING A BREAKDOWN] Edit: wtf it works now??

@apocalypticnova @libdarkheart @ameliabs-world @certifeidlovergirl @aeisnoa @cat-loves-music @coolchick333 @eringaitskill @sweaterxav @sssleepless @l4venderia @persipeoni @coldheartedmar @littlebabyk @pinksirensong @nushy @raribella @igotanidea @ali-r3n @chaosfrisur @miinnttyy @hershey2813

@cafeaueva @queenofshinigamis @xxhospital-for-soulsxx @imtherealslimmoony @one-oblivious-nerd @amphitritesangels @valckenaux @aliciahlewis @lilsunshine1092 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @ahmya-4 @katkoosik @maggie-da-rat @hopelessnessforthehopeful @mk-the-great @neenieweenie @steviesbergthuis @rayliz793 @poison-ivy-737

@katiemrty @vanillaarr @corpsebridenightamare @ghswlz @siriusblacksl0ver @poppyalice2001 @mypsychoticlove @jointherebellion215 @siriwhitewolf @teaganthemorningstar @oblivion-void @fandomstoryreader25 @darkdaydreamer @engenelxver @maddiechapman15 @hannahnikohl @pajerita19 @i-like-trains @tinafuentes @slngarza @lqveharrington @honethatty12 @users09 @honestlyka @athenalive @sunnytkm23 @mjpark15 @joselyn001 @mermaid-painter @sagegreeeeen @hayleesworld96 @sunnyteume @itssomeonereading @vaebeau @spencershotwife @negasonicteenagefathead @ @flowersownme @eileen201804 @peacheskiwi @spiceyhotsherbet @ramiiroll @theweirdone2468 @tempressofthetarot @bambi-munson @apollo 3475 @hes-club

(don’t hesitate to tell me if I’ve forgotten you on the taglist, there had been some issues with it recently so I might have missed some usernames, if so I apologize :D)

#xavier x reader #xavier x you #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe angst #xavier thorpe fanfic #reader insert #wednesday netflix #wednesday series #wednesday addams #wednesday #hanahaki disease #no beta we die like men

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