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The Emperor (Suck Club IV)

Part Three: The Fallen - (Part One, Part Two // ao3)

Vampire Primo x Female Reader

Summary: The vampire returns to explain some things (and sends some emails.) Tags: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, dual pov, flashbacks, vampire violence, references to blood drinking, blood, (eventual) smut, and more tags on ao3 // 3700ish words div by @gothdaddyissues ♥♥♥

-Primo-

The air in the city was still warm, heat trapped beneath pavement and an atmosphere heavy with humidity and pollution. Primo wiped the blood from his mouth, a bead of sweat forming on his temple as he stood. The pallid, lifeless body of a vampire hunter lay at his feet—the third in the last few minutes and he still wasn’t quite satisfied. The burn of hunger was still there, infecting every thought as though he were newly turned again. A man full of the reckless impulse to seek instant gratification. To kill.

To feed.

Over the last twelve months he taught himself to push against the feeling as much as possible, but the mere sight of you had ripped away any semblance of control he might’ve reclaimed. It had taken everything he had to pull himself from you and find a few others better suited to join such terrible dinner plans.

He wandered through the empty streets, making his way back toward the densest part of the woods that separated the city from the Valley. Separated him from you. Returning to you was probably the worst idea, but he couldn’t help himself. Not now. Not while you might be in some kind of danger and especially not after you had seen what he’d become. He owed you an explanation, perhaps dozens of them, each one harder to believe than the last.

You deserved better. Better than this, better than him, better than whatever hand waving and fumbled words he would use to try to make you understand.

The trees surrounding the cottage were still thick with the scent of whatever impossible beast had followed you there. He no longer sensed its presence, but it set his teeth on edge knowing this thing was likely still lurking around, unburdened or unbothered by the knowledge of where it was. Even if it couldn’t get into the cottage, it had gotten too close. Close enough to send him ass-over-elbows through his beloved conservatory. It was strong and possibly intelligent which made it a hell of a lot more dangerous than his usual enemies.

Dangerous enough to draw him right back to you. Oh, what a fool he was.

-x-

Sunlight warmed the room with soft, golden tones, the glass roof catching and refracting little bursts of color across the floor. Various plant-life filled the space, leaves of impressive size in deep, rich green shielding you and the vampire from the setting sun. It smelled of dirt and grass, like afternoon at the height of summer with just a hint of citrus and flora. But—for reasons unknown—there was a plush, button-tufted sofa in the middle of what appeared to be a greenhouse. Opposite the sofa was a large table filled with flasks in varying sizes, dusty old tomes, and a desk with a surprisingly up-to-date laptop.

“How many vampires have you met?” Primo asked causally, eyes never leaving the screen as he typed.

His fingers danced across the keyboard in a dizzying rhythm, seemingly never striking the wrong key. His movements were so fluid, so flawless, and so assured of their actions that you couldn’t help but watch in awe. In what fucking world did Primo Emeritus need to send emails? As text began to fill the screen, it occurred to you that he was notably older than email, older than any computer you had ever heard of.

If he truly was 900 years old “give or take,” he was a great deal older than most things you could name.

“You jealous?” you countered, deflecting the conversation and attention back to him.

He scoffed but said nothing.

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t call myself an expert,” you admitted vaguely, trying to assess exactly how much truth to include in your answer. Normally, vampires were tricky, ten-steps-ahead types. Overly cocky. Manipulative little shits with nothing but time to perfect their technique if they were so inclined. But Primo was different than the other vampires you had encountered. Nothing he’d said or done seemed to have any ulterior motive—not that you could spot anyway. It was unlikely the First Emeritus—an immortal vampire with great wealth and even greater power—could need or want anything from any human, let alone you.

“I’ve run into a few here and there. Mostly just low-level guys pretending to be more powerful or important than they are. But I know enough not to get involved in their business. Usually.”

“Ah,” he replied with a nod, still typing furiously.

“What are you doing anyway?” you asked leaning over his shoulder to scan the screen. The wording of his email was formal, perhaps a bit private, but he didn’t stop you from looking.

“Vampire business,” he teased and missed your dramatic eye roll completely. “It’s not much. Just part of the plan to protect you.”

“There’s a plan?”

He finally looked up, narrowing his eyes in confusion as he stared at you. “Of course there’s a plan. I always have a plan.”

“A vampire email plan?”

-x-

-You-

Not safe. Primo had said it so definitively you couldn’t help but repeat the words in your head, over and over until you’d spiraled out and crashed against the soft cushions of the reading nook. In your time with Primo you’d felt many things, but fear was normally so far down on the list that it barely ever surfaced even over the last year. Most of the time you’d been more worried than afraid, wondering where he was and what could have happened.

Now fear burrowed under your skin, a nasty little parasite feeding on your dark thoughts.

Primo was an immortal vampire. An untouchable, unstoppable force. Or at least he was supposed to be. You frowned at the book in your lap trying to will the text to give you the answer, to make sense at all. Trying to make anything make sense. How could Primo’s face—a kind and lovely and wonderful face you’d studied quietly for years—just change? You’d seen more than your fair share of weird shit in a world full of vampires and the occasional werewolf, but this? You couldn’t find anything like it in the dusty catalog of aging texts that lined the cottage shelves.

Why did he have to run away like that? Why couldn’t he just talk to you and tell you what the fuck was going on?

You were still lost in thought as Primo softly cleared his throat and entered the room as a younger man would, unbound by stiff joints or the weight of the entire world.

“Is this part of your big plan now? Running away?” It left your lips before you could think to stop it.

Primo frowned, all those little lines forming in places that used to be so prominent. “You have every right to be angry—”

“Oh? Thank you so much for the privilege,” you spat as you stood and shoved the book toward him before stomping past to make your way up the stairs.

“Wait. That’s not—”

“For the record, I’m not angry, Primo,” you admitted, your voice breaking around the words. “I’m fucking scared. I’ve never been more afraid in my entire life. What—what did I do to—”

In a split-second he climbed the stairs and cut you off by wrapping his arms around you. He rested his chin on top of your head while he smoothed a hand over your back as he spoke softly. “Nothing, Diavolina. None of this is your fault. I don’t want you to think this had anything to do with you for a second.”

“Well, what the fuck was I supposed to think?” you asked, pressing your face into his shirt as tears began to fall freely. “Thanks for the free house?”

He laughed lightly and pulled away to bring his hands to your face. Gently, his thumbs traced along your cheeks, swiping away at the tears that didn’t seem to stop. “That would be better than the alternative, don’t you think? Is that why you’re running around in my clothes?”

Your face felt hot. “That can’t possibly be what you really want to talk about.”

“It’s a start,” he replied with a shrug. “We are always safe in here, you know? Whatever’s out there can’t hurt us.”

“What about the things in here?”

“Cara, I would never—”

“What happened to you?”

Primo bit his cheek and cast his gaze at the floor. “It’s—it’s fate, I suppose.”

“Not this again,” you groaned and pushed him away, unwilling to accept the same bullshit answer he always gave when things were more complicated than he cared to explain. After all this time, after everything you already knew and accepted he still kept you at a distance. Maybe he always would.

“I’m serious,” he called after you. “I bargained my own life to save my brother.”

“What?” You spun around and quickly made your way back to the landing. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means I have a lot to answer for, tesoro,” he replied quietly, reaching for you.

The vampire took your hand and led you down the stairs, past the chaotic nest you’d built in the nook and into the kitchen without a second thought. He motioned for you to sit while he moved through the room. Everything was exactly as he had left it, exactly as it had always been, but he frantically searched the cabinets like it was someone else’s home. He found the old, dented kettle and filled it with water before turning to fiddle with the stove. The knob turned, letting out a few clicks and the brief smell of gas, but it didn’t ignite. He tried three more times without success before slamming his fists against the counter so hard you thought the stone might break.

You slipped from the chair and placed a comforting hand on his back. Turning the knob with your other hand—two quick clicks to the left and one to the right—the flame caught instantly, Primo’s small misstep easily fixed. He always forgets. How does he always forget?

“I have been lost without you,” he admitted softly.

“Are you talking to the tea?” you asked, moving the kettle to the stove.

“You know what I mean, tesorino.”

“We’re both here. No one’s lost.”

He nodded once. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I usually am.”

He smiled, that same real, genuine Primo smile that turned the corners of his mouth and scrunched up his eyes. He was still the same handsome devil you’d always known, just a little softer. A little smoother. You couldn’t help but touch his face, tracing where the lines used to be and might hopefully be again. His skin was warm to the touch like it always was after he’d fed well, his core temperature burning hotter while repaired and replenished itself.

He'd tried to explain it to you once, comparing the mechanics of vampires to nuclear reactors. Something relatively simple yet powerful at its core, this plus that. But without obedience—his words—vampires were nothing more than a perfect recipe for disaster, a catastrophic, destructive force. It never made sense to you, the way he would often try to present himself as a thing instead of the caring and giving man he truly was.

He leaned into your touch, shoulders releasing their tension as his eyes fluttered closed. A soft, contented sigh fell from his lips as he pressed his nose to your wrist and breathed the scent of your skin.

“What happened?” you asked gently. “How did you—”

“Get like this?” he finished for you and sighed heavily. He opened his eyes, watching you curiously as he brushed a stray hair from your face. “Where do I begin, my little devil?”

“Start with when and we’ll work our way up to how.”

He reached across the stove and grabbed the kettle before it could start to whistle. There was a certain comfort in watching his movements, the familiar dance of making tea in that odd little kitchen, even if he was ignoring your question or simply prolonging the explanation. He prepared each cup with care, as though he was savoring the simple moment, holding it with gentle hands. Like showing kindness to an injured animal, hopeful and hesitant, he passed the faded mug to you.

Everything’s better in Aurea Valley!

“It is a long story, I’m afraid,” he warned.

You smiled softly. “I have time.”

-x-

-Primo-

Primo understood anger. He knew the visceral heat of it intimately, knew exactly how it could swallow someone, consume them entirely and grow within them until it is all that they are. Many desperate lifetimes ago it was rage and fear that sustained him; he lived with the pain and isolation it brought. And with shaking, unsteady hands he clawed his way through the nine circles of Hell to free himself from it, to break whatever bonds had forged in the Pit.

He understood it. He knew it. He expected it.

But you weren’t angry and that he couldn’t quite understand. You looked so soft, so perfect sitting across from him in the cramped kitchen. Too perfect for someone like him. He would have given anything to save his brother, but it wasn’t until your fingers gently intertwined with his that he finally realized everything he was going to lose.

“Primo? You’re awfully quiet,” you prodded gently.

“Mi dispiace, Diavolina. My mind got away from me.”

“It’s ok, you know. If you can’t do this right now—”

“My mother was the one who taught me about plants, did you know?” he admitted without much thought. “She was truly gifted—a green thumb, as they say. Of course it was dangerous for a woman of her time to possess any sort of knowledge, but I suppose that’s hardly changed in the last millennium. She never cared much about what others thought; she just wanted to share her traditions with her son. So she did.”

You offered him the softest smile. “So that’s where you get it from.”

“It’s a way to honor her, I suppose. After all this time, after all my stupid mistakes and missteps I can still plant a seed and watch it grow and hope somehow her spirit is…proud of me?”

“900 years old and you’re still seeking your parents’ approval,” you quipped.

“Only my mother’s. But I have spent much of my life searching for something, collecting these tiny pieces of knowledge and traditions to appease some distant memory of her. To assuage my own guilt, in a way. Love has been called a weakness so many times—and maybe it is, I certainly don’t know—but it is why I will not hesitate when it comes to my brothers—to my family. And now that they are hellbent on expanding the Emeritus line, their actions have attracted some unwanted attention.

“I do not regret what I have done to save them,” he admitted quietly, unable to meet your eyes any longer. He sighed and began to dig his thumbnail into the soft wood of the table. He scraped at it, absently picking at a gouge in the wood left by Terzo sometime in the 1970s. What possible explanation could he give you now than the absolute truth? The ugly, awful truth of who he was and who he had become. You deserved so much better than this, better than his failures and inabilities. Better than to be trapped within this Emeritus curse, doomed to a life stained with blood.

He finally looked up, eyes tracing over your skin to recommit every feature to memory. The crease of your brow, the pout of your lips. Your eyes mirrored his movements as he studied you, concern evident on your face. In the dim light of the kitchen you looked almost heavenly despite the silly nickname he had given you years ago. You were still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen—a man who had witnessed so much and still knew so little. How had he let himself get so tangled up in you? How could he have ever run from you? How could he let you go even if you weren’t his to keep?

“I am not a good man,” he began uneasily. “But I could not let him suffer like that.”

“Primo—”

He held up a hand to stop you. “My brothers and I are grown men nine times over, I know. But it’s instinct, I suppose, even after all this time. For months I watched Terzo wither away, utterly powerless to provide anything but a temporary reprieve. I watched as that same sadness ate away at Draculina’s soul day after agonizing day. I had to—I hope you can understand that the choice I made was not an easy one. They had both become so small and I—”

You jumped from your seat as his voice broke. Before he could even think to argue, you’d wrapped your arms around him and offered comfort he didn’t deserve. “It’s ok,” you whispered into his hair. “I know you can’t stand to see anyone hurting.”

“But where did that leave you? I’ve spent so long trying—what if the ritual had killed me? What if I had left you here unprotected? What if—”

“Primo Emeritus, you know can’t sustain yourself on what ifs.”

“That’s not—this isn’t,” he grumbled with frustration as you slid back in your seat with a roll of your eyes. “Diavolina, I—we—could have died. We could still die.”

“Since when are you afraid of death?”

“I’m not afraid of my own,” he corrected gravely. “I’m afraid of yours. That ritual took so much—I knew better and I still did it anyway. I’m not sure if that is simply desperate or stupid, but it did help him. Terzo is perfectly fine now, off somewhere sunbathing with Draculina. But the cost was high and the weight of it all…it’s as though Fate herself sits on my shoulders. And the hunger—it’s not something I can easily describe. And this,” he paused, motioning toward a face missing the familiar creases and age lines. “This is a side effect of my efforts, of my own self-destructive bargaining. I have lost my control.”

Your eyebrows pinched together as you considered his words. “Your control? You mean feeding?”

“It’s…too dangerous for me to be here, to be around anyone. I could never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

“Primo, you don’t have to protect me.”

“It’s not quite that simple. It’s dangerous and I shouldn’t be here, but there is something…pulling me here. Pulling me to you.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” you replied with a smirk.

“Diavolina, be serious! This—this bond is dangerous—”

“So you’ve said.”

“I could hurt you—”

“Yeah, and maybe you won’t. It’s not like this hasn’t been a possibility for us all along, but I trusted you anyway. I still trust you. You’re the one person—the only person—in this entire stupid world that I trust. Someday you’re going to have to accept it.”

He shook his head. “Why would you trust me? Why did you stay—”

“Primo, don’t be fucking stupid,” you replied flatly.

“I—what?”

“It’s you, Primo. It has been since the beginning. It’s always been you.”

“I—you…you can’t be serious.”

“Why not? We can’t choose these things, so it doesn’t really matter how I feel about it. It just is. I’ve dealt with it long enough—”

“Dealt with it?” he repeated incredulously. “Diavolina, this is not something one can simply—”

“I never said it was simple. Everything with you is complicated, why wouldn’t my feelings be too?”

“But you deserve—”

“Don’t. Don’t do that ok? We are both extremely flawed people in a fucked up universe that brought us together for some reason. I don’t know what that reason is and I might never know, but I’m not going to just give up and walk away because you can’t love me back. That isn’t what our lives here are about—”

“Dia, I do love you,” he confessed quickly.

“Huh?”

“I…I have loved you for a long time now.”

“Well…ok. Good. Great. So we’re all caught up then.”

“I suppose we are.”

You stared at him for a moment. “You really didn’t know?”

He gave you an uneasy shrug and went back to picking at the table. “I haven’t always allowed myself to believe such things were possible.”

“Primo,” you started sadly. “You are worth so much more than you will ever know.”

“I’m afraid what you see is just a reflection of your own light, Diavolina.”

“Say it again, please?”

“I love you, my little devil,” he whispered and leaned over the table. His lips met yours with a sweet softness and he took your face in his hands with that same beautiful tenderness he had always reserved for only you. “Forever, for always,” he promised, pressing his forehead to yours. “I love you.”

-x-

Primo stood at the front door, waving off the flattery of a younger vampire in a crisp delivery uniform. The kid continued, unaware of Primo’s growing annoyance, but you could see it set in his shoulders a little more with each word. The more time you spent with him, the easier it was to read his body language. It was especially easy in moments like this, when a well-intentioned groveling carried on a bit too long and kept him from tending his plants.

“Yes, yes, thank you,” he asserted with a wave and quickly closed the door. He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Fan club meeting?” you teased from your spot on the sofa.

“Hardly,” he grumbled before shuffling through the room and dropping a thick envelope in your lap.

“What’s this?”

“Your protection.”

You raised an eyebrow and tore the little strip from the edge before peering inside. “Uh…how is this supposed to help me?” you asked and dumped the contents in your lap. “It’s a bunch of paper…and someone’s passport? Who the hell is Gia Emeritus?”

Primo shrugged. “No one until a few days ago. Now she’s you.”

“Come again?”

#AAAAAAAAAHHHHH #this fic i swear #wonderful chapter #ghost fic #ghost

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