#Sun's Grace Cookie

[ryctone]

What if Sunny was raised by Golden Cheese instead of Grave Bane?

Not good things probably-

[bellatheinkdemon]

Hello,,, not sure if your requests are open still but if they are, here's my gal (They/Her) Sun's Grace Cookie :)

(Also has a TH page but it's very outdated hhhh-)

I wanted to draw them trying not to laugh at a bad joke.

(Not sure whether or not she actually likes bad jokes or not)

[sugugasm]

☆ CLICK TO PLAY ! ➜ 450 DEGREES

YOUR LEVEL IS STARTING SOON . . .

level quest : pov ur neighbor is a firefighter, and you love a man in uniform . . just as much as he loves your chocolate chip cookies.

☆ — a message from the developer : hiii i missed uguys sm, i’m so glad to be back for realsies this time :p don’t mind any mistakes or errors & before you read — nsfw content up ahead so pretty please read these warnings !!! strangers to lovers !!! age gap alert ➜ toji is 35 and reader is 25, mentions of sexual themes such as oral, vaginal penetration, pet names such as : sweetheart, angel, baby ofc, princess, honey, etc. usage of sexual terms and usage of terms describing female anatomy, uses she/her pronouns. firefighter! toji x baker! blk fem! reader 333 — word count : 8.0K or 9.0K, i lost track LOL

“fuck . .”

toji cut the engine of his ford pickup and sat for a moment, eyes closed, letting the silence wash over him. every muscle ached with exhaustion, the double shift of 48 hours catching up to him. he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept in an actual bed instead of snatching a few hours on the lumpy firehouse couch in between calls.

sighing, he grabs his duffel from the passenger seat and levers himself out of the truck. as he turns toward the house, a flash of color across the street quickly catches his attention. his new neighbor — you, out puttering in your postage stamp front yard, wearing a tank top the same vivid coral as the geraniums you were watering and cut-off jean shorts that barely qualified as clothing to any old, bitter bastard.

he’d seen you before. many times. whether it was while leaving for an early session at the gym as you walked your puppy, or his moving day . . where he could barely order around gojo and geto, struggling to tell them where they should place certain boxes due to hearing your alluring giggle coming from the house next door, your curls flowing in the breeze as you gossiped over iced lemonade with mrs. johnson on her porch.

his thoughts are interrupted when you glance toward him, face lighting up with a friendly smile as you spotted him. “hi there! nice to finally see you in the flesh instead of just passin’ headlights at odd hours of the night.”

“sorry about that.” toji hoped his answering smile passed for normal and not serial-killer exhausted. “i’m toji, toji fushiguro. i jus’ moved in last month.”

“well m’ yn. welcome to the neighborhood!” you propped a hand on one cocked hip, thoughtlessly drawing his eye to the thickness of your legs that almost looked golden in the sun lighting.

jesus.

realizing he was staring, he jerks his gaze back to your face, feeling his neck heat up at the idea of you catching on. “thanks. s’ a nice area. quiet.”

“i like to think we're a pretty welcomin’ bunch. in fact . . .” you bite your lip, looking almost shy for a second. “i was plannin’ to do some baking later, as a housewarming gift for all the newbies. any requests? cookies, muffins, scones? i make a mean cinnamon roll too.”

an unexpected warmth kindled in toji’s chest at the kindness of the offer. even as his stomach rumbled in anticipation, he couldn't remember the last time someone had gone out of their way to do something nice for him. sadly, baked goods didn't really tend to hold up well on 24-hour shifts.

“that’s really sweet of you, thanks. i love a good chocolate chip cookie, but i’ll happily be your guinea pig for anything.”

“sounds like a plan.” you graced him with another one of those classic, southern hospitality miles. “i’ll surprise you. they’ll be over before you know it!”

“looking forward to it. i better let you get back to . .” he waves a hand vaguely at the riot of flowers on your lawn, colors and smells galore.

“oh, right. see you soon then. welcome home!” with a small wave, you bend to retrieve the watering can, giving him an unobstructed view of her perky ass in those obscenely small shorts.

strangling a groan, toji spun on his heel and double-timed it into the house before you caught him ogling you like a creep. so much for a quiet neighborhood, he thought ruefully as the door shut behind him. you were gonna’ be one hell of a distraction, though some traitorous part of him looked forward to the temptation. it’d been way too long since he'd been around a pretty girl. maybe that's what all this edginess was - his libido waking up and taking notice after a long dry spell.

well, he'd just have to keep any wayward urges in check. no matter how mouthwatering you looked in tiny cutoffs, you were practically a decade younger and a neighbor, at that. off limits. he’d accept your baked goods, enjoy a little innocent flirting, but anything more was out of the question.

resolved, he headed for the shower, already counting the minutes until he could taste whatever delights you were whipping up for him.

the next morning, toji was on his second cup of coffee, basking in the rare luxury of an empty day ahead with no responsibilities, when the doorbell chimed. he opened it to find you, juggling a huge wicker basket with an equally enormous smile. the sweet scent of sugar, vanilla and chocolate wafted out to tease his nostrils so blissfully, just like how your sheer presence teased . . . other parts of him.

“g’mornin’,” you chirped. “i come bearing gifts from the sugar fairy.”

“so i smell . .” his mouth waters as he relieves you of the basket and ushers you inside, noting how your flowered sundress set off your peaches-and-cream personality. no shorts today, but the dress was nearly as enticing as it grasped on to your curves. he wondered if your skin would taste as good as you smelled, then mentally slapped himself.

down boy.

“i hope you don't mind me just droppin’ by like this. i wanted to catch you before you got busy.” your smile faltered slightly as you glanced around the spartan space with its generic bachelor furniture and decided lack of personal touches. “if s’ not a good time . .”

toji set the basket on the coffee table and turned to her, hands raised in mock surrender. “you came to my house bearin’ gifts of dessert. trust me, it's never gonna’ be a bad time. i may actually make some sort of sugar delivery beacon to summon you in the future.”

your laugh sounded a little relieved. “aww cute, sounds like my kind of bat signal. i’ll have to get you a spotlight shaped like a cupcake.”

“make it a cookie and you've got yourself a deal.” he grinned at you. “can i interest you in some coffee to go with whatever magic you've got in there? smells incredible.”

“coffee would be great, thank you.”

he led the way into the kitchen, noting how you took in details like the depressing lack of clutter and decoration. the only personal items were a handful of framed photos stuck to the fridge - him and his siblings as kids, his parents' wedding portrait, shots of fishing trips with his buddies — one with snow-white hair and the other with black. it struck him how sterile the space was, more like a way station than a home.

you didn't comment on it, instead you just leaned a hip on the counter and watched him pour a darkened substance into a ‘worlds worst morning person’ mug. there’s a comforting silence as he catches a whiff of your light perfume over the powerful espresso aroma - something floral and citrusy. it suited you.

“i wasn't sure what kind of treats you'd like, so i made a sampler of my greatest hits,” you say brightly. at his gesture, you unpack the basket, setting containers and various utensils on the table. “okay so . . we’ve got triple chocolate chip cookies, blueberry muffins, apple cinnamon scones, and my famous brown butter cinnamon rolls.”

“good lord,” toji shook his head in awe. “you made all this yesterday? after we spoke? do you even sleep?”

you laugh and accept the steaming mug he offered. “who needs sleep when there's sugar? besides, baking relaxes me. i love seeing people enjoy my creations.”

as if on cue, his stomach rumbles loudly, and you bit your lip against a smile. “sounds like someone's ready for a taste test. don’t be shy . . dig in.”

toji didn't need to be told twice. he selected a cinnamon roll, still warm from the oven, and bit in with a moan that would've been beyond embarrassing if his mouth wasn't full of heaven. “shit . . think i jus’ found my religion.”

you giggled that giggle that’d been stuck in his head since the day he heard it. “the cinnamon rolls tend to inspire a cult-like devotion. you haven't even tried em’ with the cream cheese frosting yet.”

he halted with the pastry halfway to his mouth for another rapturous bite. “there’s frosting too?”

in answer, you pulled a container from the basket with a flourish. “i figured you could handle adding your own so it didn't get soggy.”

“you’re an angel.” he slathered a generous amount of fluffy white frosting on the roll, not even caring that he probably looked like an overexcited kid.

watching him take another blissful bite, you cradled your coffee mug in both hands. “soo . . what d’you do that keeps you gettin’ home at such odd hours? i promise m’ not stalking you, but it's a quiet street. hard not to notice the comings and goings.”

toji washed down the sticky-sweet mouthful with a swig of coffee. “i’m a firefighter. we work 24-hour shifts, so my schedule can be pretty unpredictable."

interest sparked in your eyes. “really? that’s so cool! i bet you have some amazing stories.”

“eh. a few,” he allowed. truthfully he tried not to dwell on some of the things he'd seen, the memories that still occasionally jolted him awake in a cold sweat during the night. “it’s rewarding work, but not exactly a picnic for the social life.”

you give him a sympathetic look over the rim of her mug. “i can imagine. is that why you moved? needed a fresh start?”

“somethin’ like that. the job costed me my marriage a couple years back. got tired of walkin’ around the old place alone, so i thought a change of scenery might do me good.”

change of scenery in deed. toji even went as far as to relocate to a different state after his divorce with his wife. even the landscaping around the city had become too much of a heartache. what was once a happy, sensual marriage quickly turned sour the moment toji began working more. the position as chief hadn’t sounded that horrible in his head, but if he knew he’d come home one night - the clock reading exactly 3:17 am, to an unrecognizable man fast asleep in his bed, naked next to his wife, that that position could’ve waited. could’ve been passed on.

there’s a silent second between you two, your face still, “i-im so sorry,” you say softly, and toji feels relief when he sees that your eyes were warm with understanding, free of the pity he'd come to dread whenever his divorce came up in any other conversation he’d have with someone who didn’t know him.

he shrugged. “it is what it is. we married too young, grew apart. my hours didn't help. no hard feelings though.” he mustered up a wry smile. “what about you? you’re a little young to be living the retired grandma life, baking up a storm in the 'burbs.”

you grin, allowing him to lighten the mood. “hey, hey, hey, this grandma can party with the best of em’! fyi, i stayed up past 10 last saturday watching bad girls club.”

toji clutches his chest in feigned shock. “damn, so scandalous! what was the special occasion?”

“all have you know . . i was trying to perfect a new macaron recipe. passionfruit with dark chocolate ganache. they’re a fickle mistress though - one minute too long in the oven and they're as dry as bones.”

“sounds like bakin’ is more than jus’ a hobby for you,” he observed.

you toy with your mug. “it’s my whole life, really. i’m in my second year of culinary school, specializing in pastry arts. when i graduate, i’m hoping to open my own bakery. somewhere people feel welcome and cared for. a safe space, i suppose.” he stares, and you duck your head with an embarrassed laugh. “sorry for the tangent . . it probably sounds so silly.”

“not at all.” toji found himself impressed by the passion and dedication evident in your voice. you had a dream and you were going after it. he remembered that feeling. before the reality of adulthood had started chipping away at his own youthful idealism.

he wanted to say something to encourage you, to protect that light shining in your eyes for as long as possible. “for what it's worth, i think you're gonna’ be amazing,” he told you seriously, holding your gaze. “if this morning’s haul is any indication, you'll have lines around the block.”

you shield your smiling face sweetly. “that’s kind of you to say. i appreciate the vote of confidence. speaking of . .” you hesitate, then forge ahead. “m’ actually working on developing an original signature recipe for my final. multiple components, flavors, textures. the works.”

“sounds ambitious,” he said, eyebrows raised. “what’d you have in mind?”

your eyes sparkle with enthusiasm at the question, the thought of genuine curiosity making your heart flutter. “deconstructed black forest cake. dark chocolate cake, kirsch-soaked cherries, vanilla bean whipped cream. i wanna’ play with it, update it. maybe turn it into a trifle or a parfait of some sort.”

toji was no culinary expert. hell - he didn’t even know what half of those things were, but even he could tell you were on to something special. “that’s incredible, yn. lemme’ guess - you need a guinea pig?”

you bite your lip nervously, smile turning impish. “i didn't wanna’ impose, but since you offered the other day . . how would you like to be my official taste-tester? i can't really pay you, but you'll get free rein to sample every variation.”

“where do i sign up?” he was only half joking. even if your creations turned out to be awful, which he highly doubted, any excuse to spend more time with you sounded like a win.

you laugh. “i think i can waive the usual application process on account of the fact that you're doing me a huge favor. plus, it means you won't be able to avoid me constantly showing up at your door to force-feed you desserts.”

“oh no. however will i cope.” he feigned a put-upon sigh.

you shot him a look of amused reproof as she packed up the empty containers. “try to contain your disappointment. i promise to space out surprise sugar bombings. wouldn’t wanna’ make you sick of me or my baking."

“i don’t really think i ever could . . to be honest,” he declared firmly. on impulse, he reaches out to still your fluttering hands with his own. your skin was so soft and warm, sending a tingle zipping up his arm. your breath pauses at the contact and your eyes flew to his, startled.

“i mean it,” he said, voice gone low and intent as he tries to infuse sincerity into every word. “i can't imagine ever getting tired of you. or your company.”

for a suspended moment you just stare at each other in silence. then you swallow, sounding a little breathless as you replied, “likewise. m’ really glad you moved in, toji.”

“me too,” he said roughly. and though he knew he shouldn't, that he was venturing into dangerous territory, he allowed himself to stroke the delicate bones of your wrist with his thumb. just once, to feel your shiver lightly in response. then he released you and stepped back, moving to hold the door open for you in unspoken signal.

“i’ll get out of your hair now,” you murmured as you gathered the empty basket with hands that trembled just slightly. “but i’ll see you soon? for taste testing purposes, of course.”

“absolutely,” he confirmed. “anytime. y’know where to find me.”

with a final nod and smile, you slipped out the door. he watched you go, admiring the sway of your hips, the bounce of your hair, already counting the minutes until he'd see you again.

you were gonna’ end him, so so sweetly too., he realized with a trace of fatalism.

but what a way to go, huh? death by cinnamon rolls.

the day of the first official tasting arrived, and toji found himself unaccountably nervous as he approached your door. he felt a like an awkward kid picking up his prom date, palms sweaty and heart knocking around his ribs. which was ridiculous. this wasn't a date. just two neighbors getting together to sample some sweets. totally casual.

never mind that he'd changed his shirt three times, vacillating between wanting to look nice for you and not wanting to seem like he was trying too hard. he’d finally settled on a plain black tee and his least disreputable pair of jeans, adding a hint of cologne as an afterthought.

now, standing on your stoop, he wished he'd brought something. flowers maybe — lillie’s like the ones in your garden, or perhaps wine. did people bring wine to taste testing sessions? probably not. you’d most likely think he was a presumptuous idiot.

shaking his head at his own weird bout of nerves, he raised his hand to knock. before his knuckles could connect, the door swung open to reveal you, looking adorably pretty and flustered. you were wearing a frilly pink apron over a gauzy white sundress scattered with tiny red cherries. your hair was bundled on top of your head in a haphazard knot, loose curls escaping to dance around your swelled cheeks. a dusting of cocoa powder streaked one of them.

“toji - oh, you’re right on time! m’ runnin’ a bit behind, so sorry. come on in.” you stepped back to let him enter and he caught a blend of tantalizing scents - rich chocolate, sweet cherries, warm vanilla, and underneath, the subtle floral musk that was purely you. it made his head swim and his stomach clench with a hunger that had absolutely nothing to do with the promise of dessert.

he followed you into the kitchen, blinking a bit as he took in the transformation. when he'd helped you carry in groceries a few days ago, the room had been tidy and quaint, with cheerful yellow walls and kitschy retro appliances. now every surface was strewn with baking detritus - bowls, whisks, spatulas, piping bags. the air was hazy with a fine mist of flour and powdered sugar, swirling in the slanting sunlight.

incongruously delicate paper doilies serving as placemats were scattered with miniature cakes, puddles of sauce, and billows of snowy cream. it looked like a fancy bakery had exploded all over the place.

“as you can see, i’ve been experimenting with a few different iterations of the concept,” you said with a small smile, waving a hand at the sugary chaos. “couldn’t settle on just one. i thought i’d get your input n’ then we could narrow it down together.”

“i’m at your service,” he told you gallantly, skating his gaze over the counter. “i’ll warn you though, my palate isn't exactly refined. you might end up with the bland 'it all tastes good' as feedback.”

you giggled. “i’ll take it. okay, let's start basic.” you gestured for him to take a seat at the flour-dusted table and set a plate in front of him. on it perched a generous slice of cake, glossy with ganache, accompanied by a scarlet swoosh of what he assumed was the cherry compote. a dollop of whipped cream, flecked with black speckles, completing the overall masterpiece look.

toji quickly picked up the fork and took a bite, closing his eyes to focus on the flavors. the cake was intensely chocolate, the ganache dark and silky. tart-sweet cherries burst on his tongue, balanced by the subtle fragrance of the vanilla-specked cream.

“damn,” he mumbled around the mouthful. “fuckin’ fantastic, yn.”

you beam, looking relieved. “yeah? the cake recipe took a while to get right. i wanted something more . . . complex than a standard chocolate cake, so i used black cocoa powder to really amp up the flavor. n’ i even added a little coffee to enhance the chocolate.”

“s’ a winner,” he assured you. “i dunno’ how you could improve on it, honestly.”

“oh i have a few ideas,” your smile turned mysterious. “you haven't seen anything yet.”

over the next hour, you walked him through several variations. chocolate cake layered with cherry compote and kirsch-soaked chocolate cake crumbs, topped with cocoa whipped cream. dark chocolate and cherry bread pudding drizzled with cherry coulis. chocolate panna cotta with drunken cherries and cherry gelée . . . and toji sampled them all, humming with pleasure while you watched him anxiously. your initial nerves seemed to melt away as you lost yourself in describing the ins and outs of each dish - the technical challenges, the way certain flavors complemented or contrasted, ideas for garnishes and plating.

he found himself captivated by your intensity, the way your whole being lit up when you talked about your craft. it was more than just a job or a hobby for you . . . it was a calling. he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that kind of soul-deep passion for anything. couldn’t take his eyes off the way your slender hands sketched shapes in the air, punctuating your words. delicate, clever hands that created so much beauty.

“earth to toji,” teased, waving one of those mesmerizing hands in front of his face. “did i lose you? too much of a sugar crash?”

toji blinked and refocused on your amused expression, realizing he'd been caught woolgathering like an idiot. “sorry, just slipped into a brief dessert coma. what were you saying?”

“i was asking what you think of this last one. it’s the more . . . wildcard of the bunch.” you pushed a small glass toward him. it looked like a miniature trifle, with layers of cake and cream, a vivid cherry layer in the middle, and a fan of shaved chocolate on top.

he dug in and had to suppress an absolutely obscene moan. the combination was incredible - velvety smooth, creamy, rich, and fruity, with a kick from what had to be a generous glug of kirsch. sweet but not cloying, a sophisticated twist on a classic.

“i think we have a winner,” he managed, not even caring that his voice came out husky. “if you're going for adding a 'wow' factor, this is it.”

you stand on your tippy-toes, looking hopeful. “you think? i couldn't decide if it was too out there. verrines aren't exactly traditional black forrest cake material.”

“doesn’t matter. it’s a showstopper. interesting to look at, fun to eat, n’ the flavor is phenomenal.” he scraped the glass clean with his spoon, not wanting to waste a drop.

your smile could've lit up the city block. “thank you, toji. you don't know how much it means to me, you bein’ here. lettin’ me talk your ear off and stuff you with treats. it really . . helps a lot."

“believe me, it's my pleasure,” he said, returning her smile with one of his own. “i haven't had this much fun in . . i can't even remember how long. i like seein’ you in your element.”

you both just grin goofily at each other for a moment, the air feeling thicker. then you hopped up and began clearing the table, stacking dishes and bustling around the small space.

“y’know i feel bad, you feedin’ me all these goodies without me contributing anything,” toji said, rising to help. “at least lemme’ take you out for a meal that isn't 90% butter and sugar. you must be sick of cookin’, day in and day out.”

you slanted him a glance, tucking a stray curl behind one ear. “m’ not, actually. it never feels like a chore. but i . . wouldn't say no to dinner out. if you're sure you don't mind.”

mind? he’d been trying to come up with an excuse to spend more time with you, and here you were gift wrapping one for him. “i’d love to,” he said firmly. “s’ the least i can do. and i’d like to hear more about this final project of yours. when do you present it?”

“next month,” a shadow crossed your expressive face, there and gone in a blink. “m’ tryin’ not to think too much about it yet. one step at a time, y’know?”

he recognized that look. the flickering uncertainty, the hint of stage fright. he’d worn it himself, back before his first real fire. wanting so badly to prove himself, to show what he was made of, terrified of choking.

impulsively, he reached for your hand, halting her flitting movements. your fingers curled reflexively around his, warm and strong. “look at me . . . you got this. you’re a star, you're gonna’ impress the hell outta’ your professors.”

you swallowed hard, eyes searching his. looking for the belief you couldn't quite muster on your own. “i hope so. i want it so much, toji. this . . all of it. it’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

“then don't let fear hold you back,” he told you gently. “don’t doubt yourself. you have a gift, mama. i know m’ a dumb scrub who can barely tell a macaron from a macaroon, but even i can see that you were born for this shit.”

your hand squeezed his, almost painfully tight. from both the nickname rolling off his tongue so elegantly and the encouragement that you sometimes failed to receive from your closest peers. “thank you, seriously,” you whispered. “for believin’ in me, i guess. it means a lot to me . . .”

he squeezes back, thumb sweeping over your knuckles. he had a sudden, wild urge to haul your into his arms. to soothe the worry from your brow with his lips, to show you with his hands and body and breath how special you were. how much he'd come to care for you in such a short time.

but he couldn't. however strong the pull, however much he wanted to cross that line, he knew it would be a mistake. you weren’t for him, this shining woman with stardust in her eyes. and he was in no position to offer you anything real. he needed to remember that.

so he contented himself with a soft “anytime,” and released your hand, stepping back to a safer distance. “now, about that dinner. friday work for you?”

you blinked, then hitched your smile back into place. it wobbled a bit at the edges, but he pretended not to notice. “friday’s great. s’ a . . . plan.”

even through the awkwardness, the unspoken words clogging the air between you, a little thrill went through him. it’s a date, you’d almost said. and god help him, he wished it was — that’s why you settled on making plans to try the new, cozy italian restaurant that had opened downtown, the one you’d mentioned wanting to visit after a neighborhood watch meeting one night. it was intimate . . . romantic. toji walked home with a lightness in his step, an unfamiliar flutter in his gut. he was in trouble, he knew he was. you were trouble in ways he hadn't encountered before. you made him feel too much.

more than he ever had.

but he was in too deep to back out now. all he could do was try to keep a clear head, keep things casual and platonic. be your friend and supporter, nothing more. his life, his job . . there was no room for complications.

even if he was beginning to suspect it was already far too late.

the days leading up to friday passed in a blur of anticipation and nerves, though toji did his best to ignore both. ‘it isn’t a date. she’s not into you. this isnt a fuckin’ date . . .’ he reminded himself sternly, no matter how much his idiot heart wanted to pretend otherwise. just dinner between neighbors. a thank you for your tireless taste testing efforts. nothing to get all hot n’ bothered about.

so then why the fuck had he changed outfits half a dozen times before settling on the nicest button-down he owned and a new pair of dark wash jeans? why had he agonized over whether to bring flowers or wine or both . . again? this was so embarrassing. he was so embarrassing. he’d think being married once would've meant he had at least a little bit of game . . but nope - he had nothing.

taking a deep breath, he knocked on your door at precisely 7pm. when it swung open to reveal you, his lungs almost stopped in their tracks. you looked no less than stunning in a ruffled dress, in the pretty shade of baby-pink, your hair tumbling over your bare shoulders - half up, half down and bumped at the ends. a slim gold chain nestled in the hollow of your throat, shamefully drawing his eyes down to the swells of your titties.

“fuck . .” he said inanely, tongue suddenly clumsy in his mouth. “m’ so sorry. forgive me, i mean, you look . . absolutely amazing.”

a shy smile curved your lips, brightening your whole face up. “thanks . . so do you, toji.” your eyes skimmed over him appreciatively and he fought the urge to preen.

“o-oh, these are for you.” he thrusts the slightly wilted grocery store bouquet at you, wincing inwardly at his own awkwardness.

but you just smile, cradling the limp blooms like they were something so precious. “how sweet of you! i love daisies. lemme’ jus’ put these in some water and we can go.” you disappeared into the kitchen, leaving him to marvel at how such a simple gesture could delight you so thoroughly. damn, you were so lovely. inside and out.

the drive to the restaurant was filled with easy conversation interspersed with comfortable silences. toji let you be in control of the radio, secretly charmed by your off-key humming to the cheesy pop songs in rotation on your playlist. he could imagine countless nights like this, aimless drives with no destination in mind, just content to be in your company with no one to bother.

and dinner was a laughter-filled affair, trading bites of pasta and garlicky bread, arguing playfully over the merits of various desserts. you entertained him with customer service horror stories from your barista days, confessing your penchant for ‘accidentally’ giving rude patrons decaf.

in turn, toji found himself sharing more than he usually did - funny anecdotes about his buddies at the firehouse, his worries about his little sister starting college in the fall, even a bit about his dad. the words came without effort, drawn out by your natural warmth and empathy.

he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed anyone's company so effortlessly.

when the check came, he wouldn't let you even reach for it. you rolled your eyes but allowed him to pay, primly informing him you were getting the next one. his stomach flipped at the unthinking promise of a next time.

you then lingered over coffee and dessert - the restaurant's version didn't even hold a candle to your black forest verrines, but you were too polite to say so - neither wanting the evening to end. toji watched you lick chocolate from your spoon, entranced by the tiny pink flash of your tongue. wishing he could lean in and taste the sweetness of your mouth. a pleasant shiver chased over his skin, heat simmering low in his belly. he’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted you - this maddening mix of tender and carnal, the urge to both protect and possess.

“mmm,” you purred appreciatively, pulling the spoon from your mouth with an obscene pop. “whoever said that chocolate isn’t better than sex clearly hadn't tasted chocolate like this.”

toji swallowed hard, adam's apple bobbing convulsively in his throat. “playin’ with fire are we?” he manages to rasp, fingers clenching around his mug.

you placed the spoon delicately on your empty plate, fingers lingering just long enough to draw his attention to their graceful dance. “who says i’m playin’, handsome?” you quip.

he was so fucked. so. totally. fucked.

afterwards, he walked you to your door, hands shoved deeply n’ awkwardly into his pockets to keep from doing something stupid like reaching for your hand. you then hovered on the stoop, the sultry summer night pressing in close.

“i had fun tonight,” you softly. in the light spilling from your living room window, your eyes were luminous. hopeful. “we should really do it again sometime.”

“we should,” he agreed, mouth dry. he couldn't look away from your face, tracing the delicate arch of your brows, the dark feathering of your lashes. you swayed closer, tipping your face up to his, and his heartbeat kicked into overdrive. god, you were killing him.

it took every ounce of willpower to step back, to force a chuckle past the ache in his chest. “well i should let you get your beauty sleep. early start tomorrow, right?” your smile faltered, a brief tightening around your eyes hinting at disappointment. he almost caved right then, almost said to hell with his reservations and dragged you into his arms the way he'd been dying to do all night.

but he couldn't. not when he had nothing more to offer you than heartache.

“right,” you murmured. “beauty sleep. so important for . . . baking.” you fumbled for your keys, not quite meeting his gaze. “i’ll see you round’ then.” he could only watch you retreat into the house, torn between relief at the bullet dodged and an overwhelming sense of loss.

wearily, he turned to go back to his own quiet home. he’d done the right thing. the smart thing. so why did it feel so damnably hollow?

avoidance was the order of the day after that near-miss. though it pained him, toji forced himself to keep some distance, to not make up flimsy excuses to show up on your doorstep at all hours of the night. no more dessert development sessions, no matter how much he craved the sight of you gushing and twirling over your latest creations. no more cute, little dinners with furtive hand holding under the table.

he threw himself into work with even more zeal than usual, pulling extra shifts and helping out with the neverending station chores. if the guys ribbed him about his sudden devotion to alphabetizing the equipment room or polishing the engine to a blinding shine, he shrugged it off. it was loads better than going home to an empty house haunted by what-ifs.

he ached to see you though. sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of you catering to your garden or heading off to the market, and his fingers would itch with the urge to go to you, to close the seemingly unbridgeable gap between you both with long strides and strong arms. more than once he'd picked up his phone to call you, thumb hesitating over your smiling face in his contacts until he cursed and tossed the phone aside.

it was for the best, he told himself firmly. you had your whole life ahead of you - school and internships, building your dream from the ground up. he’d only get in the way, bog you down with his everlasting issues and cynicism. he wouldn't, couldn't be the dead weight holding you back.

even if letting you go felt like tearing himself in half.

he should've known you wouldn't let him slink away so easily. that for all your sweetness, you were just as stubborn as he was. you’d never been one to give up on the things - or people - you wanted.

which bring us to now . . you ambushing him on his way home from a grueling 48-hour shift, looking unfairly pretty and indignant as you marched across the street to plant yourself in front of his truck. he barely bit back a groan, exhaustion and longing a potent cocktail in his bloodstream.

“hey, stranger,” you said archly, fine brows drawn together in a scowl. “long time no annoy.”

he cut the engine and climbed out, suddenly self-conscious about his unwashed, smoke-saturated state. “hi, yn. how’s it going?”

“ah, y’know. jus’ workin’ myself to the bone, trying to perfect this dessert that's only the culmination of my entire academic career thus far. while also attempting to figure out how i mysteriously pissed off my friend to the point of complete radio silence.” your arms crossed over your chest, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes, “so yeah . . the usual.”

guilt lodged under his breastbone, sharp and corroding. he’d never meant to upset you, to make you think any of this was at all your fault. “shit, yn. i’m sorry . . i didn’t mean to ignore you, i’ve just been so -”

“busy . .” you finished for him, mouth flattening. “mhm, i’ve noticed. so busy you ignored all my calls n’ texts - missed our dinner the other night too. you’ve been practically living at the station lately.”

he grimaced, one hand scrubbing over his stubbled jaw. he’d never been any good with words, with making excuses. especially when faced with eyes that seemed to see right through his every defense, “you’re right. i’ve been avoiding you. but not because of anything you did. i jus’ . . needed some space to clear my head.”

your arms tightened, gaze dropping to the oil-stained pavement. “i thought we were having fun,” you said quietly. “gettin’ to know each other. but if i misread things, if i made you uncomfortable in any way i really am so sorr . . .”

“no.” he interrupted fiercely, taking an involuntary step closer. close enough to smell the light, citrusy scent of you, to see the faint mascara smudges of sleeplessness under your eyes. “you didn't misread anything, yn. these past weeks, spendin’ time with you . . . s’ been amazing. the most fun i’ve had in years, if i’m being honest.”

confusion clouded your expression. “then why?”

“because m’ a goddamn mess,” he bit out, the truth clawing its way up his throat. “because you’re brilliant, and you’re goin’ places . . n’ i wouldn’t be able to give you my time in the way that i know you more than deserve. i wanna smell muffins in the mornin’ . . not the smell of musty men and water hoses.”

he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before sitting his stuff on the hood of his car, “i jus’,” he started, “i’ve done the dating thing, alright? the marriage thing too, y’know that. i jus’ . . i cant afford to lose another person in my life that i care about — not when i’ve come this far to prevent it n’ when they’re as sweet and pretty, and as kind as you.” you stand in silence, letting him vent, “i’m not perfect. m’ terrible at cooking, i sing in the shower, n’ on top of all that i fuckin’ snore like a grizzly bear. ya’ still want me now?”

you took a step forward, hand coming up to fist in the front of his t-shirt. he inhaled sharply at the sudden press of your soft curves against his hard planes, the way your gaze dropped to his mouth.

“yeah, you grumpy old fuck . . i still want you,” you whispered fiercely. “mess, snores and all.”

he softened as you pressed a kiss onto his cheek, gentle and warm with truce, “i have my own damn baggage. y’think thats stoppin’ me from goin’ after what i want? no. so jus’ stop bein’ such an asshole n’ kiss me alread - mmph!” — that was it. that was the straw that’d broken the camel’s back. with a muttered curse, his control had finally snapped. he hauled you flush against him, one arm banding around your waist as the other hand sank into your hair, cradling the back of your head. you made a soft, needy sound and surged up on tiptoe, sealing your mouth to his.

the first touch of your lips was electric, a livewire straight to his core. they were exactly as soft and sweet as he'd imagined, moving over his with an urgency that matched his own. he angled his head to slant his mouth more firmly over your, licking at the seam of your lips as you licked on the scar on his.

he swept his tongue into your mouth, stroking over yours, swallowing the low moan that vibrated in her throat. you tasted like peppermint and the vaguest hint of sugar, an addictive flavor he already knew he'd never get enough of. your arms twined around his neck, blunt nails scraping deliciously at his nape as you pressed impossibly closer.

dimly, he registered the whoops and catcalls of a passing group of neighbors, but he couldn't bring himself to care. let em’ gawk. the whole damn neighborhood could come out to watch and he still wouldn't be able to tear himself away from your sweetness.

he was a man possessed.

the kiss deepened, turning hot and hungry. toji backed you up against his front door, hands roaming greedily over your curves as he pressed the hard length of his body into your soft warmth. you made yet another sound into his mouth, lifting one leg to wrap around his hip, opening yourself up to him.

he tore his lips from yours only to trail open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, tasting the salt on your skin from the sweat of the hot summer sun. “fuck . . i want you,” he growled against your pulse point. “wanna’ touch you, taste you, feel you. if you’ll let me . . of course.”

“wow, such a gentlemen,” you gasped, hands scrabbling at his shoulders. “please fuckin’ do, toji.” patience fraying, he fumbled for his keys and somehow managed to get the door open without releasing you. you stumbled over the threshold, shedding clothes haphazardly between searing kisses - your flimsy blouse fluttering to the floor, followed by smoke stained his t-shirt.

toji walked you backwards down the hall to his bedroom, kicking the door shut before tossing you onto the bed. he followed you down, covering your entire frame with his own, reveling in the feel of all your bare skin finally against him. you were a vision in the spill of afternoon light, curls fanned across his pillow, pink lace bra and panties a tantalizing contrast to your brown skin.

he took a moment just to admire you, committing every detail to memory. the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted on shallow breaths. heavy-lidded eyes hazy with want and something deeper, more tender.

“been dreamin’ about you, princess. shit - you’re so gorgeous.” he rasped, nipping at your earlobe with each word, “so pretty, so beautiful, so smart.”

you shivered, fingernails raking over his shoulders, “nngh - c’mon stoppit, toji . .” growling low in his throat, he captured your lips in a nasty kiss, all teeth and tongue. large hands cupping your full titties, calloused thumbs rubbing your nipples into stiff peaks. and you arched into his touch with a moan, shameless in your pleasure.

“someone’s eager, hm?”

breaking the kiss, he began to work his way down your body, mapping every dip and curve with lips and teeth and tongue. he paid thorough attention to your titties, laving at the dark-brown nipples until you were panting and squirming beneath him.

“b-baby, please . .” you whimpered, fingers sinking into his hair to urge him lower.

he only chuckled darkly against your flesh. “patience, sweetheart. m’ not goin’ anywhere. let me love you.”

true to his word, he set about exploring you - kissing a meandering path down your ribs and belly, dipping his tongue into your navel just to hear you gasp. strong hands gripped your thighs, pushing them further and further apart so he could settle more comfortably between them.

hooking his fingers in your lacy panties, he dragged the scrap of fabric down your legs. “fuck yeah, look at you. so wet for me already. look at this pussy . .”

you mewled as he licked a broad stripe up your slit, circling your puffy clit with the tip of his tongue. he sealed his lips around the sensitive nub and sucked, fingers delving into your soaked entrance, curling to find that special spot inside you.

“o-ooh my god — yes!” your back bowed off the bed, a vibration spreading down your chest as he worked you higher. he paid close attention to your most tender skin, alternating between broad, flat licks and quick, targeted flicks. crooking his fingers just so, he rubbed and rubbed until he found — “ah f-fuck!” your g-spot, feeling your thighs start to tremble around his head.

“thas’ it, bunny - cum on my tongue. i wanna’ see it all, mama. c’mon, i know you can do it,” the filthy words combined with the relentless stimulation quite literally pushed you over the edge . . and you came with a sharp cry, gushing your juices all over his lips and chin. he groaned at the taste of you, lapping up every last drop, addicted already.

while you were still quivering and coming down from your high, toji fumbled blindly for the nightstand drawer. he managed to retrieve a condom without taking his eyes off of you. ripping open the packet with his teeth, he sat back on his knees to quickly sheath himself.

you took the opportunity to admire his body, running appreciative hands over his muscular chest and abdomen. he was all tanned skin and chiseled muscle, a sparse trail of dark hair pointing the way to his impressive erection. it jutted from a thatch of coarse curls, thick and flushed nearly purple, the bulbous head glistening with excitement.

wrapping your fingers around his rigid length, you stroked him base to tip, twisting your wrist on the upstroke so that the condom slips right back off. toji grunted, hips bucking into your touch as you rubbed your thumb over the leaking slit. you pause, your mouth watering as you begin to lower your head down. you press the side of your face against his thigh, peering up at him with batting lashes and a poked lip. your ass is arched - high in the air and wiggling as if you just wanted him to smack it.

that’s when you began slapping his heavy dick against your cheek, repeatedly, “so big, baby,” you whisper, now positioning your face to where his cock could sit right on top of it - “can i put it in m’mouth? please . .?”

“yn you don’t have to -”

“i want to.”

toji looked down at you once more, the look of want in your eyes . . . how could he resist?

he gently grabs the side of your neck, firm but not firm enough to cause pain, his other hand curling around the base of his cock as he whispered, “open wide. tongue out,” biting his lip as he braces himself for the sensation of your mouth wrapped around him.

that’s when your wet tongue dances out tentatively, tracing the ridge of his head before retreating back to safety inside your mouth. it was clear that you were just as lust filled as him. toji could feel himself pulsing with need as you took him in deeper and deeper, a low groan escaping him, “shit, doll - got it all to fit . . good girl.” your hands gripped his hips tightly, nails digging into his skin as you bobbed your head up and down. toji swore he could fall in love with the simple, yet beautifully disgusting sound of your throat — gawk, gulp, gawk! ugh, they were such disgusting noises - some gagging here, some moaning there, but he couldn’t have asked for anything better. you were slobbing, spitting, and choking on his dick and the only thing getting in your way from taking him whole was the fact that his size was still fairly new to you.

“sss’ ooh fuck - b-baby . . yn -” he hisses, both your eyes and his rolling to the back of your heads as you continue to gulp him down, spit trickling down to your tits as they jiggled to the rhythm of your mouth. each and every glide against your tongue was starting to overpower him, and before he knew it, if you didn’t stop he was bout’ to —

“cum . . m’gonna cum! m’fuckin’ cumming - asshhit . .” he groaned, eyes tightly closing as you continued to deepthroat him the best you could, “don’t stop, keep suck - y-yes . .” it was a hassle - a big one, but the taste of him warm cum painting your throat felt like a sweet reward.

almost sweeter than your baked goods.

whining and still aching to suck on him some more, toji pulls you off in fear of shaking more than he already was — and the sight of you with his cum dripping out of your mouth only did the complete opposite.

“uh, well then . . how’d i do?” you say shyly, as if you hadn’t just completely slutted out your mouth for your next door neighbor.

a surprised bark of laughter escaped him even as his cock jerked at you eagerly. “don’t exile me, but that mouth . . shit, might be better than your cookies. not gonna’ lie, sweetheart . .” toji growled, and you pout as he’s prowling back over you. you then watch him slowly, his fingers unexpectedly plunging back into your pussy as he scoops some of your wetness onto the pad of them before pulling them back out. he fists the base and tip of himself, smothering his cock in your juices as lubricant as he teases your entrance with a few pats n’ nudges. fuckin’ tease. he kept on until you were angrily swatting his chest to put the damn thing in already.

who could blame your lust? after all . . you’d been dreaming about it for weeks now.

yet again, he snags another rubber, strokes a little, and once he’s in, “oh s-shit that pussy's tight, baby . .” he’s in. you moaned in tandem, dick snuggling into your tight walls inch by excruciating inch. you were warm and wet and perfect around him, gripping him like a silken vise. it was magical, just like you - but the look on your face . . oh that look, almost seemed like you wanted to be broken. with your arms above your head, your titties swaying against your chest and your whines now hoarse n' pleading — he kinda wanted to break you too.

toji started with slow, deep strokes, mindful of your tightness and his considerable girth. he didn't want to hurt you, wanted to savor every clench and flutter around his aching cock. wanted this to last, to burn this moment into his brain forever.

“f-feel so fuckin' good wrapped around me,” he gritted out, hips rolling in a lazy figure eight that had you keening. “y’so wet, honey . . dick feel that good?”

“toji,” you whimpered brokenly, fingernails scoring down his flexing back. “more, please . . need it harder . .”

and how could he deny you anything when you begged so sweetly? bracing his weight on his forearms, he obliged, snapping his hips forward with more force. the headboard started to thump against the wall, the mattress creaking beneath your writhing bodies.

“like that, baby? hm?” he panted against your throat, sweat beading at his temples as he drove into you again and again, his cock damn near slipping out of you from the slippery speed. “this what you need? me splittin' this pretty pussy open?”

“yes d-daddy . . ” you wailed, back arching like a drawn bow. your cunt was fluttering around him, a telltale sign of your impending orgasm. “aah - don't stop, don’t stop, m'so close!”

“shh, i got you,” he promised, shifting the angle of his hips to grind against your clit with every thrust. “gonna’ make this pussy sing for me, gonna’ wring the cum outta’ you 'til you're shakin' on me. you want that?” his filthy words seemed to be your undoing because suddenly you were clenching down on him like a vice, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as you thrashed beneath him. your release gushed hot and slick around his pistoning length, drenching his groin and thighs with sweetness.

“f-fuck yeah,” toji choked out, his own rhythm faltering as your rippling walls threatened to milk him dry. “good girl, sweetheart, cream on this dick, lemme’ feel you.” he managed a handful more erratic thrusts before his own orgasm crashed into him like a freight train. he buried himself to the hilt and stilled, a hoarse shout muffled into your sweat damped shoulder as he spilled himself into the condom. his cock jerked and twitched with every pulse, vision nearly whiting out with the force of it.

for long moments, you both just shook and gasped, clinging to each other as aftershocks rolled through your bodies. toji's heart was thundering so hard he was sure you could feel it through his sweat-slick chest. he'd never come so hard in his life, never felt so utterly shattered and remade.

you made a soft, satisfied sound as he carefully withdrew from your heat, rolling to the side to dispose of the condom with a quick knot. then he was gathering you close again, palm smoothing up your spine as you burrowed into him with a sigh.

“shit,” you eventually mumbled into the heated skin of his throat. “that was . . .”

“ . . fuckin' heavenly,” he finished roughly, a laugh rumbling in his chest as he felt your answering huff of amusement. “m’ sorry i uh . . came so fast. i don’t usually -”

“did you just apologize to me because my pussy is good?” you teased, dragging your nose along the edge of his stubbled jaw. he could feel the curve of your smile, the unabashed joy, and it settled something deep within him. soothed the ragged pieces he'd thought long broken.

“damn straight,” he agreed, arms tightening around you possessively. “i can die a happy man now.”

“well, you're not allowed to die on me now, toji. you're stuck with me. escape if you can.”

“mm, is that right,” he nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the scent of you - all warm woman and satisfaction.

“mhmm. you're not getting rid of me easily. i still have so many desserts to force on you, so many early morning baking sessions to drag you into . .”

he laughed outright at that, at the sheer exuberance in your voice. “promises, promises.”

“oh i always keep my promises, mister. which reminds me . .” you pushed up on an elbow, eyes sparkling with mischief and something deeper. something that snatched the breath from his lungs. “i seem to remember you saying something about round two . .”

“did i? care to refresh my memory?” he growled, even as he was already rolling you beneath him again, mouth seeking yours. you then feel his palm colliding with your ass in a gentle spank. “what am i gonna’ do with you?”

“everything.” you breathed against his lips, a vow. “anything. i want you, toji. want everything with you.” and fuck, what could he say to that? what could he do but kiss you like a promise, a prayer, and proceed to show you just how much he wanted that too? wanted to give you everything, anything, all he had to offer?

he'd never been a man of many words. but this - loving you with hands and mouth and body, breaking you apart and putting you back together again and again until you were both sweat-soaked and shaking . . this he could do. this he would do for the rest of his life if you'd let him.

“you’ve got me.”

and from the joyous half-sob of his name as he sank back into your pussy, the way your body opened for him like a flower to the sun, he had a feeling you just might too.

there would be time for more words later - time for confessions and plans and mapping out a future he'd never even let himself dream of before. time to make good on promises whispered into heated skin, to build something real and lasting brick by brick. but for now, in the honeyed afternoon light with your legs wrapped around his waist and your heart in his hands . . let himself get lost. let himself drown in sensation and emotion, in this miraculous woman he didn't deserve but who'd chosen him anyway.

from lost to found, in the space of a heartbeat. and all because an angel in a garden had smiled at him across a sunny street and offered up a little piece of heaven. he'd never know what he'd done to deserve you, or this second chance. but he'd spend the rest of his days earning this gift, cherishing it.

cherishing you.

that was a promise. and like his beautiful girl . . toji fushiguro always kept his promises.

©️ SATORUBI - please do not copy, translate, or modify my work without my approval ! thank you for playing . . the challenge has only just begun.

[astrotruther]

Astro Observations

misc. (ii)

🐉 Narcissists may have Mars-Uranus aspects in their chart. Mars’s energy can be either constructive or destructive; pair that with Uranus' erratic quality, and it could make one manipulative. In my opinion, Mars & Uranus having more harsh aspects to multiple other planets could further confirm this. Look out for squares, especially Moon square Mars!

🐉 Sun harsh aspects to Neptune, even conjunction can be somewhat superficial. Neptune may bless them with a mystique that attracts public attention, but they stick to a surface-level public persona. Artists with these aspects may stick to cookie-cutter projects. E.g. Colleen Hover responding to criticism by saying 'I write to entertain not to educate'. Jake Paul also has this aspect. In worst cases there's a delusional egotism to this aspect. On the other hand, easy aspects will be more willing to go within and proudly display their shadows, creating art that is meaningful and leaves a lasting legacy.

🐉 I've observed Scorpio Sun/ Moon in charts of those who backhandedly bully people over things like their appearance. Water Moons in general are capable of inflicting deep emotional wounds to others when unevolved. Having Mercury in a fire sign makes it a lot worse since the words become harsher. I've had a Scorpio Sun - Pisces Moon girl admit to me that she makes fun of people because she had the same done to her while growing up.

🐉 Libra MC are often told they should be models. Understandable because they're so photogenic!

🐉 Pluto-Ascendant easy aspects & conjunction are always reinventing themselves. It's easier for these people to let go of things that don't serve them and realign themselves with their inner true selves. They're skilled at coming to terms with their dark sides and alchemizing it to create a positive impact in the world.

🐉 On the contrary, harsh aspects may feel like they can't be themselves due to external factors or a certain image/ aesthetic that they have to uphold. Some may be child actors/ activists or made it big in early years making it hard to disrupt their public persona. It's way harder for them to branch out within their career field. Ascendant at 0° might have the same effect. E.g. Billie Eilish, Demi Lovato, Finn Wolfhard, Darsheel Safary, Malala Yousafzai, Meghan Trainor, Hilary Duff.

🐉 I've seen so many takes on the 0° & most people romanticizing it somehow. It may manifest in a divine way for those who are self-aware/ have evolved. however MOST people aren't. So it gives a somewhat negative quality to the placement, e.g. Jake Paul has his MC at 0°.

🐉 Moon-Pluto aspects not only symbolize a strained relationship with the mother but also with other women. A lot of trauma you accumulated while growing up was because of the women around you. Some of them may have made you feel bad about yourself because they were threatened by you. The signs Moon & Pluto are in could give more context, e.g. Aries Moon, Sag. Pluto = invalidating your anger, not letting you be yourself and forcing you to be someone they like, forcing religion on you from a young age etc.

🐉 Uranus square MC will have a career-ruining public scandal at least once. All I can say is avoid doing shady stuff and if it's external factors beyond your control, handle it with grace, lay low, you'll get your chance to shine again.

🐉 Moon square Lilith is an enemy placement. Moon person hates Lilith person's guts because Lilith person may have hurt them in some way. Moon could want revenge on Lilith for what they did.

🐉 Venus-Saturn aspects may have had people criticize their appearance while growing up, but they end up having insane glow-ups. Their most attractive years come somewhat later in life and they age very gracefully.

🐉 Moon in Cancer/ Moon conjunct Jupiter people possess the ability to manipulate, sometimes on a mass level. It's on them to use their emotional superpowers to influence people in a positive way and not just keep banking on their victim narratives. Nonetheless, these people can hold public interest for a long time.

🐉 Venus in 10th House synastry is often a clout/ PR couple. E.g. Glenn Powell & Sydney Sweeney.

Click daily to help Palestinians🍉🙏🏽: https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

[sayoneee]

☆ I WANNA BE YOUR MAN

“his band is playing tonight, at seven,” annabeth reminds you, with the knowing air of someone far wiser, and far older, “you should go.” (1.7k)

contains: loser older brother luke castellan x fem! reader. mortal au. pt 2 of parent trap but can be read standalone ish. guest appearances! rock / metal music references.

kashaf’s note: i think i can call myself a melomaniac now

LUKE CASTELLAN HAS always occupied that in-between space, the no-man’s-land between something and nothing — his indecipherable gaze as his cold, black, and blued knuckles grazed your cheek when he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear swims around your mind endlessly. despite how each thought, each expression, each breath is as familiar to you as your own, you have never quite known where you stand with him, regardless of how quickly he seemed to inhabit a piece of your soul.

the familiar weight of the mixtape that luke made you feels unusually burdensome in your hands, mirroring the heft of the songs on it that you have painstakingly committed to memory, each sleepless night’s offerings of tossing and turning becoming a reoccurring ritual. 

you had popped the tape in your walkman immediately after luke had handed it to you, incognizant of the way his eyes softened as you concentrated on the music, trying to identify the first song. 

“this is that band you like — l.a. guns, right?”

“you’re a regular sherlock,” luke had said, smiling and sarcastic, twisting his silver rings.

“shut up, no i know this song,” you say, tilting your head and snapping your fingers. “its — um — i wanna be yours? nono, don’t make that face at me, asshole, hold on… i wanna be your man?”

hues of pink crept up his cheeks, and you basked in the warmth of his answering crooked grin, the feeling wrapping around you like the caress of a summer night. 

you uselessly stirred the spoon in your now stone-cold cup of chai, leaning across the kitchen table with your head propped up in your other hand. the phone taunts you from its corner on the counter, sitting just by the clear jar of blue cookies, its black hue a beacon among the sea of greens (the cabinets, the tiles — you liked to tell sally that she should try her hand at interior design one of these days) — as of late, the jacksons’ kitchen has become somewhat of a refuge for you. 

you set a steaming china cup down in front of him, listening to the sounds of percy, annabeth, and grover in the living room, pulling out the chair in front of him with a slight creak on the slightly worn wooden floors, and watching him as he taps his fingers along to bob marley’s soft crooning, “little darlin’, stir it up”, lost in his own world.  

“luke,” you say, breaking him out of his revelry.

luke sits up straight, meeting your amused gaze, “yeah?” he asks, reaching for his chai, and mumbling a quiet thanks as he sips it.

“you look kinda stupid when you think,” you say, watching him blink before taking the bait, and hiding your smile of satisfaction behind your cup.

“y’know, this is why you have a black hole for a heart,” he says, grinning crookedly, filling you with an indescribable longing to reach out and trace his grin. 

“what?” you laugh, “what does that even mean?”

“just that you’re mean,” luke says, and the afternoon sun chooses that specific moment to encompass him in its glow, like a kiss from apollo. “and that you’re emo.”

“you literally say this every time, oh my god, i’m not mean or emo.”

“because i’m literally right?”

“you like him,” annabeth says, sympathetically, standing in the doorway, arms folded across her chest, her braids resting across her shoulders, glancing from your untouched cup to your face, an expression of pity gracing her features. her presence caught you so off guard that you don’t even question where percy ran off to, who was usually attached to annabeth like a conjoined twin. 

“i know,” you say, shivering slightly, the revelation feeling strangely empty, although you suppose the same part of your soul that recognized him had always known, a small inkling reappearing with every argument, and every nudge. 

“he likes you,” annabeth adds matter-of-factly, interrupting your stream of consciousness. 

“i know,” you repeat, picking at the lint on your sweater, and while this revelation is supposed to be shocking, it is also hollow, as you suppose your soul also knew this with every hushed conversation in the dead of night, and the slips of silence that only spoke volumes around him.

“his band is playing tonight, at seven,” annabeth reminds you, with the knowing air of someone far wiser, and far older, “you should go.” she turned and stalked back toward the living room.

you sat still for a minute or so, before sighing and putting luke’s mixtape (even in your misery, he is somehow always there) in your walkman, putting your headphones on as axl rose trilled, ‘i said, baby you been lookin' real good’ in his voice that took a while to get used to — something luke gave you a heads up on.

you sighed, conceding to annabeth’s attempts to rewrite whatever fate had pushed the two of you apart, from the hours-long phone calls that dwindled into short, clipped conversations, you can’t necessarily blame annabeth for trying to fashion a phoenix from the ashes of your friendship. 

you stood up, grabbed your jacket off the back of the chair you were sitting upon, and walked into the living room, pausing for a few minutes to watch the scooby doo episode on the screen along with percy, grover, and annabeth, who were currently sprawled across the softly carpeted floor, arguing over monopoly.

“you’re literally cheating,” percy was saying.

“i’m the banker, i’m supposed to be innocent,” annabeth argued back.

“percy, i saw you steal a couple dollars behind annabeth’s back,” grover added, rolling the dice.

“guys,” you said, interrupting their three-way argument, “put on your jackets and shoes, we’re going to the fair in five minutes.”

you ignored the way the troublesome trio exchanged glances, walking through the hallway covered in framed photos of percy and sally, going to wait by the door for them.

“so,” percy says, all-too-innocently, “why the sudden change of plans?” once the four of you are a couple of blocks away from his apartment.

“no reason, just wanted to see what was so hot about the fair,” you say, digging your hands in the pockets of your jacket. once more, you ignore the glances the trio exchange. 

“so it doesn’t have anything to do with a certain curly-haired individual that we’re currently seeing less and less of?”

you keep walking, trying to feign ignorance, although the question was so pointed even you were concerned with percy’s audacity, “what’re you talking about?”

“oh, nothing,” percy smiles. “just the way —”

“— the two of you —”

“— were inseparable —”

“— for a disgustingly long time —”

“— and now you’re not —”

“— but we’re going to the fair because —”

“— his band is playing —”

“— and you’re going to try and fix —”

“— your troubles in paradise.”

you blinked slowly, as the three of them did jazz hands, matching shit-eating grins on all of their faces, “how long did it take for you guys to rehearse that?”

“a week, give or take,” grover says, and annabeth shoots him a glare.

“not the point, the point is, we support you.”

“gee, thanks, all i really needed was the support of three twelve-year-olds.”

“three twelve-year-olds that know you’re stupidly in love with luke castellan,” percy points out.

“okay, y’know what…” you trail off, frowning.

annabeth nudged percy, “not the point here, again.”

“fine, fine, fine,” you huff, as the four of you approach the brightly illuminated fair, looking for the ticket-selling booth, “i’ll buy you guys tickets so you can go hang out on the rides and i’ll go to the concert.”

the three of them nodded happily, making a beeline for the cotton candy stand a few feet away. you shook your head before pushing through the bustling crowd to look for the concert stage. when you finally do find it, after three excuse me’s and four sorry’s, the concert is already in full swing, with what looks like a mini moshpit already forming somewhere near the center.

once you’ve pushed your way to the absolute front, the darkening night sky serving as a backdrop, the harsh lights illuminate all five individuals on the stage, with a gorgeous girl with shaggily-cut hair and a raspy voice singing as lead (thalia? you think you remember luke telling you on the phone late at night once). however, your gaze almost immediately fixed on luke, who was playing a riff on his electric guitar, looking as hot as ever, his crooked grin on full display.

the band is covering l.a. guns’ ‘i wanna be your man’ at the moment, and you’re suddenly very grateful to annabeth for her unsubtle nudges, because you would’ve missed out on this sight of luke castellan, the view of his muscled arms bulging out of his band tee is permanently seared into your memory.

you’re almost sad when the show is over though, finally realizing why luke liked concerts so much, from the crowd surfing to the drumstick tricks during solos (beckendorf, you think the drummer’s name was — luke had mentioned him before) to the lead’s insane vocals, to the girl with long curly hair that stood next to you for most of the concert (probably the band’s most enthusiastic fan), you savored every minute of it. however, you’re glad for the chance to corner luke afterwards, climbing onto the stage as the crowd begins to disperse in waves, and realizing the curly-haired girl was already among the band members packing up their instruments, helping the curly-haired bassist pack his things. 

luke barely looks up at your sudden arrival. “what’re you doing here?” he asks, packing away his guitar.

“i’m here to see you,” you say, trying to drive the hint home.

“i told you that you didn’t have to come see the band if you were busy,” luke says, uncomprehendingly, making eye-contact with you. 

“i like you,” you say insistently.

“c’mon, let’s not kid ourselves right now, you said we’re friends so you don’t have to try to make me feel better,” luke says, shrugging and looking away from your face, rubbing the back of his neck.

“i listen to your dumb mixtape every night, luke castellan. does a person who’s not into you do that?”

there is something so raw about the way he looks right now, with his expression stilling as his cheeks are colored in swathes of red. 

smiling at his dumbstruck expression, you surged forward to kiss him, ignoring all the wolf whistles and “get some, castellan” enveloping the two of you, tangling your fingers into his hair, his hands coming to rest upon your hips.

© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[valsverse]

• just thinking about percy jackson as your summer bf. fumbling with sunscreen, smearing it on each other’s noses, missing spots on purpose. sticky cuddles under the blanket, even though the air is way too hot for any kind of physical contact. popsicle juice dribbling down your chin, and him kissing it away, his lips sweet and a little too eager. racing into the ocean, him pretending to trip just to make you laugh. stealing sips of each other’s lemonade, but only when you think he’s not looking. screaming on the rollercoaster while he pretends to be fearless, though you catch his knuckles white around the bar. arguing over the best ice cream flavor—he insists on mint chocolate chip, but you know it’s cookies and cream. beach volleyball that always ends with him picking you up and spinning you around, both of you laughing too hard to keep score. running barefoot on the hot pavement, hopping between patches of grass. falling asleep in a hammock, legs tangled, with the smell of saltwater still clinging to your skin, and waking up to sunburned shoulders and his lazy grin. • or how fall coded leo valdez is. going to haunted houses together, hiding your face in his shoulder every time you get freaked, while he grins and teases you, but never lets go. sharing one scarf because he insists he’s not cold, but somehow the scarf always ends up wrapped around you both. carving pumpkins together, where he makes his a goofy, over-engineered contraption while yours is just happy and crooked. attempting to watch Saw for halloween, but halfway through, he grabs the remote, and suddenly It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown! is on. apple cider kisses, warm and sweet, his lips tasting like cinnamon. drowning tea with lethal douses of nutmeg because he swears it makes everything better, and it does. walking through piles of fallen leaves, and just when you’re admiring the colors, he kicks a bunch of them at you, laughing as you chase him down the path. ending the night with bonfires, where he messes with the flames, making them flicker in shapes just to make you laugh. • and winters with luke castellan, him cupping your face in his hands, palms warm and soft, trying to chase away the chill from your cheeks, always grumbling about how cold you are, but never pulling away. sharing caramel apples, and him struggling to take a bite while making a mess, albeit with a small grin. snowball fights that start with playful teasing and end with him catching you in his arms, both of you laughing and brushing off snow. walking through the frosty streets, his arm around your shoulders, making sure you’re never too cold. stopping by a food cart for hot chocolate, where he burns his tongue but pretends he's fine, playing it off with a casual shrug while you laugh. driving through the city, holiday music low in the background, his eyes flickering between the lights and your smile; and his peppermint scent clinging to your sweater, lingering long after he’s gone. • while jason grace is undeniably a spring bf. feeding each other freshly picked strawberries, sweet and sun-warmed, his smile soft as he knows just how to choose the best ones. stopping by the convenience store for a snack run, where he knows your favorites by heart, grabbing them without a second thought. stopping by a local café for iced coffee, his fingers brushing yours as he hands you your drink.

playful water fights by the fountain, where he always ends up drenched, his hair sticking to his forehead, but he’s still grinning, water dripping everywhere as you both laugh at the chaos. visiting farmers' markets together, where he picks out the freshest fruits and insists on trying every sample with you. sharing ice cream cones that melt faster than you can eat them, him sneaking bites from yours with a playful smirk, wiping away a stray drip with the back of his hand before it hits the ground.

©valsverse— do not steal, edit, or repost my works. plagiarism is prohibited.

[repulsiveliquidation]

Masterlist.

Requests are open. If there is a WIPs you'd like to offer ideas for, feel free!

I write for Arsenal WFC and FC Barcelona Femeni, but players from other teams are more than welcome, especially those whom i've written for before. Please include your player of choice and your detailed request when you leave them in my inbox! I am not opposed to brainstorming in my DMs but please understand that I may not respond promptly but I will get back to you!

fluff = 💛, angst = 🚨, smut = 🔞

WIPs

Writer x Reader

Grace Clinton

Mikrokosmos 💛

Aggie Beever-Jones

One Thing Led To Another 🔞

Laia Codina

Reservation 🔞

Alessia Russo

Puppy Eyes 🔞

Jessie Fleming

We Might As Well Try 🔞

You Drew Stars Around My Scars 🚨🔞

Thorn in my Side 🚨

Wake Up Call 🔞

Jill Roord

The White Suit 🔞

Oral Fixation 🔞

Say Yes to Heaven 🔞

Elevators 🔞

Leila Ouahabi

Eyes on Me 🔞

Group Project [The Orgy] 🔞

Want, Not Need. Pt. 1

Want, Not Need Pt. 2

Careful Planning

Two is Better than One

Aitana Bonmatí

Ecstasy 🔞

Hope, Coffee, and Poetry 🔞

earmuffs 🚨

fidgets 💛

pretty lights 💛

lather 💛

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Baby It’s Cold Outside 🔞

Alexia Putellas x Leah Williamson

Time Consuming 🔞

Time Difference 🔞

Melted Ice Cream 🔞

Alexia Putellas x María León

Twice the Pleasure 🔞

María León x Ingrid Engen

Crippled 🔞

Special Instructions 🔞

Arsenal Women

Chosen Family 💛

Alexia Putellas

Rain 🔞

For Club and Country 🔞

Impatient 🔞

Honeymoon 🔞

Scars 🚨

Broken 🚨

Claire De Lune 🚨

all the rain in the world. 🚨

Darlin' I'd Wait For You 💛

Paris 🔞

If I have to ask, I don't want it. 🚨

Fire and Ice 🔞

beige. 🔞

One Call Away 🔞

Bottom Ale 🔞

Betrayed 🔞

Show Me 🔞

Ona Batlle

Collateral 🚨🔞

without you 🚨

Too Dangerous 🔞

To Love Someone 🔞

The Best of Me 🔞

Backseat 🔞

Touchy Feely 🔞

don’t let them hear. 🔞

Angel in the House 💛

Royalty 💛

La Princesa 💛

She's going to be okay. 💛

I don't think you deserve gentle darling. 🔞

Touch me like nobody else does. 🔞

Leah Williamson

Choice 🚨

Flare Up 💛

Guardian of My Heart 🚨

Sun to Me 🚨

Alone 🚨

good excuse 🔞

When I’m with you, there is no one else because I get heaven to myself. 💛

Cookies and Cuddles 🔞

baby bear 🔞

dreams 🔞

don't wander 💛

Kiss Me Before You Go 💛

Arsenal's Number 6 🔞

Blueberry Pancakes 💛

Fore! 💛

They could never be mad at you. 💛

Nightmares and Hot Chocolate 💛

Leah Williamson x Lucy Bronze

I've got you. 💛

Georgia Stanway x Leah Williamson

I don't need you. 💛

Maya Le Tessier

I'm not sick. You're delusional. 💛

Georgia Stanway

Lazy Saturdays and Scrambled Eggs 💛

[imthesilentwriter]

Of Crushes and Comfort

Harry Potter x Wolfstar!Daughter!Reader

Summary: You talk to Lily about something very, very personal – your feelings. More specifically, the feelings that you may or may not have towards her son.

Warnings: none, just fluff and comfort. (Let me know if there is more that I have forgotten)

Authors Note: To be honest, this isn’t very good. I suck at dialogue, and I didn’t really know what to write. However, this idea just got stuck in my head, and it’s kind of inspired by this drabble written by @myjealouseyes. In saying this, I hope you enjoy this little oneshot.

Word Count: 1147

Navigation | Masterlist

“Can I ask you something?”

Those were the first words that tumbled out of your mouth this morning. It was early, the sun barely risen, casting long shadows across the kitchen. But here you were, sitting at the kitchen table while Lily gently sat across from you, her attention fully on you. The room was quiet, except for the faint chirping of birds outside and the sound of water boiling for tea.

Your fingers rhythmically tapped against the teacup you were holding — your leg bouncing up and down anxiously. Lily could tell, she always could, when something was worrying you. At first, she might have chalked it up to the fact that it was just after a full moon. You always worry about your father, Remus, during the nights you spend at the Potters', and of course, the morning after. But she could see it wasn’t that.

“Of course, dear,” her kind, yet tired eyes oozed love, “what seems to be troubling you?”

That’s the thing, though. You didn’t know whether or not you could tell her what was troubling you. You shifted slightly in your seat, looking anywhere other than her green eyes, which unfortunately reminded you of what was troubling you.

Your gaze drifted outside towards the trees. Somewhere within them was the old treehouse you and Harry had begged for when you were around four. James and Sirius, of course, couldn't deny such a request. Lily had once teased them that you and Harry had them wrapped around your little fingers. Naturally, they denied it, but everyone knew it was true.

“You know,” Lily softly said, her voice grazing your ears, drawing your attention back to her. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” she said gently, “but you and I both know what it’s about.”

You blushed slightly at her words. A gentle smile graced her lips as she brought her tea to her mouth, her eyes conveying everything. She knew. But how could she know?

Your expression must have given you away, because she chuckled sincerely. That was another thing that reminded you of… him. He had inherited her chuckle — that warm, comforting sound, with just a hint of teasing.

“I see the way you look at him,” she continued, setting her tea down. “I can see it in your eyes.” Her smile widened as she studied you, her gaze both soft and knowing.

The fidgeting that had overtaken you ceased, but your cheeks heated up more violently. It felt like you had just been caught stealing from the cookie jar, sitting there under her non-judgmental gaze. Despite yourself, you relaxed slightly at the thought.

A weak breath escaped your lips, and the tension in your shoulders dropped. You turned your eyes back to Lily. “How did you know?” The question slipped out before you could stop it.

She let out a breathless chuckle at the question — not judging, just amused. “A mother’s intuition, I suppose.”

You nodded cautiously, the two of you falling back into silence. Your gaze returned outside, to stare at the trees. After a while, you broke the quiet with another question. “Do you think my fathers' know?”

Now, that really got a laugh out of her. She met your eyes with a playful look. “What do you think?” she teased, and soon you were both laughing, the sound lightening the air between you.

But as the laughter faded, the anxiety crawled back up your spine, making you shift in your chair again. Lily seemed to notice and shifted her own seat closer. “Boys can be oblivious,” she started, “but you don’t have anything to worry about. I highly doubt your fathers would figure out what I figured out.”

You nodded at her words. It was true; you doubted your fathers would figure anything out — especially your father, Sirius, who could be painfully oblivious. Then again, could he be that oblivious?

“Do you think…” you began, stopping momentarily to choose your words carefully, “do you think that… that maybe…”

“…that maybe Harry has figured out you like him?” she finished for you. You froze, taken aback. You hadn’t expected her to say that. Stunned, you just nodded.

Lily sighed briefly before regaining herself. She shook her head, “No, not yet, but…” she trailed off, giving you a knowing look. You looked away after that, a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks. Silence embraced you both, as you sat lost in your own thoughts.

“I just don’t know if what I’m feeling is how you’re meant to feel, you know?” you confessed, catching her off guard for a moment before she composed herself again. “What do you mean?” she questioned in return.

You sighed heavily, gathering your thoughts. “It’s just… I don’t understand how you can tell if you like someone,” you admitted. Then, a thought struck you. “How did you know you had feelings for James?”

She pondered for a moment, her eyes growing distant with memory. “Well, I remember feeling this weird fluttering sensation in my stomach whenever I looked at him.” She paused, smiling. “At first, I honestly thought I was starting to get sick,” she added with a laugh, and you giggled in response. "And then there was the nervous feeling I’d get when he was around."

You nodded, understanding that feeling all too well. "And I thought to myself, ‘Why are you nervous, Lily? He's the biggest jerk you've ever met.’” You laughed harder at that, and her smile deepened. "And every time our hands slightly brushed, it felt like my heart was going to explode or try to run out of my chest."

She paused again, looking at you with warmth. “And that’s when I realized, I had feelings for him.”

You breathed in, nodding, trying to absorb her words. Smiling, you realized you felt those same things about Harry. Whenever he talked to you, hugged you, or made you laugh — those nervous feelings always came rushing in.

Lily noticed your thoughtful expression and reached across the table, placing her hand over yours. Her touch was gentle, comforting. "Listen," she said softly, "why don't we take a walk later? Clear our heads a bit? It's beautiful outside, and I think some fresh air would do us both some good."

You blinked, surprised but grateful for the offer. "I'd like that," you admitted, feeling a little lighter already at the thought.

She smiled, standing up to pour more tea into her cup. "And remember," she added over her shoulder, "whatever happens, you have people who love you — no matter what."

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, Lily,” you said quietly.

Lily nodded, returning to her seat. “Anytime, dear. Anytime.”

Your gaze drifted once more to the trees outside. Even if you hadn’t talked about everything, you felt a weight lift off your chest. For now, there was calm. Until next time.

[cera-writes]

Omg, I love your blog! 👁️👁️✨ I really love how you write for X-MEN characters. Today, I’m requesting a song fic for either Remy or Kurt. I think they would both fit Too Sweet (By Hozier). I’ve been obsessed with this song ever since it came out. Thank you! ✨

A/N: THANK YOU <333 I too, am obsessed with this song lol Pairing: Gambit x F!Reader Tags: songfic, Hozier, fluff, mutual pining

Too Sweet - A Hozier Song-Fic

The insistent chirping of birds filtered through the blinds, a jarring intrusion into Remy LeBeau's slumber. Ten o'clock. Ten o'clock before Remy would ever say a word and none earlier. Unlike him, you were a symphony of pre-dawn energy. Your voice, a melodic counterpoint to the morning symphony, cut through his haze.

"Remy! Rise and shine, sleepyhead! I've already been out on my mile run this morning before the sun rose."

He peeked from beneath the covers, your silhouette bathed in the golden morning light. Even in your active wear, you possessed an ethereal quality. It couldn't be said I'm an early bird, Remy thought, a wry smile playing on his lips. You were the quintessential early riser, a stark contrast to his nocturnal rhythm.

"Don' you jus' wanna wake up, dark as a lake, cher? Smellin' like a bonfire, lost in a haze?" he mumbled, the words tumbling out unbidden. You paused mid-stretch, concern clouding your bright eyes.

"Did you sleep well?" Your worry was a balm to his soul, a secret he wouldn't readily admit. You cared about him, the man who thrived in the shadows, a stark contrast to your rose colored glasses. You were too sweet for him, a melody in his whiskey-soaked symphony of existence.

"Peachy, cher," he lied with a lazy drawl, forcing himself upright. You were right. The allure of being the thief in the night seemed to pale in comparison to experiencing a sunrise with you. He joined you on the cool floor, his movements stiff compared to your effortless grace.

"You know you don't gotta pretend," he propped up softly, voice laced with amusement. A heat crawled up your neck. He saw through you, your carefully constructed facade. Perhaps, it was this very quality that drew you to him like a moth to a flame.

As the day unfolded, the contrast between you became even more apparent. Your afternoon was spent enveloped in the warm aroma of chocolate and sugar, your hands weaving magic with the ingredients. Remy, however, sharpened his fighting skills with his staff, the rhythmic clang a stark counterpoint to your gentle symphony.

You offered him a hot cup of joe, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "I remembered you liked your coffee black. Oh, and I just made cookies. Help yourself to a few."

He chuckled, taking a tentative bite. The sweetness exploded on his tongue, a stark contrast to the life he led. "You're too sweet for de likes of Gambit, cher," he teased, a pull in his chest that wasn't from the charged cards strapped to his thigh.

"What does that make you then?" you countered, a playful comeback escaping your lips. But beneath the surface, Remy saw a flicker – a spark of attraction mirrored in his own gaze.

Later that night, when the moon replaced the sun, casting familiar, cool shadows, he found you on the balcony, gazing at the starlit canvas above. This was his domain, the time he craved.

"Couldn't sleep, cher?" he drawled, leaning against the railing, whiskey in hand as he took a sip from the glass.

You shook your head, a smile playing on your lips. "Just thinking."

He joined you, a comfortable silence settling between them. "Maybe," he started, feeling uncharacteristically hesitant, "maybe we don' have to pretend or play dis lil' game anymore. Maybe we can share de sky for a while."

You turned to him, your eyes twinkling like distant stars. "Maybe we can, Remy."

He leaned closer, the scent of tobacco mingling with the cool night air. In that twilight space between light and dark, he found himself lost in the sweetness of your kiss, a perfect counterpoint to his world of shadows.

[ryctone]

Reworked Grave Bane lore looks very uuuh... scrumptious so far.

[equallyshaw]

that one hurt | trevor zegras

zegras x oc hughes.

warnings: angsty, swearing, self doubt, and self belittling in a way. but, sweet ending (:

word count: 2.1k (longer than i anticipated lol)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

molly hughes, older twin sister to jack, glared at trevor as soon as he walked in and slammed the front door. trevor did not acknowledge her after the loss that evening between them and dallas stars. she crossed her arms as she leaned against the kitchen counter, watching as he walked right past her and to their bedroom. she sighed, cleaning up the rest of the kitchen after baking some cookies and heard trevor walk back in. he was going on and on about a harmless habit she did, "how many times do i have to fucking tell you about this shit? huh?! jesus fucking christ." he screamed at the girl. she froze in her spot, as trevor grabbed his keys from the counter and slammed the front door again. her hands quickly covered her mouth, as she let out a sob. she'd never been yelled at like that before, in her entire life. she'd made sure she was always in peoples good graces and always put the needs of others before her own needs and wants. she felt betrayed and felt as if her whole being had been stripped.

she quickly made her way over to the bedroom and grabbed a bag, throwing clothes and a bag of toiletries in there. she had one place she wanted to be and one place only.

-

molly pulled up to the townhouse alex had gotten in santa monica, and she saw alex sitting on the front step waiting for her. he stood up as she turned off the car, meeting her to grab her bag and give her a hug. he rubbed her back softly, as she cried into his shoulder. alex looked to molly as a sister and was beyond pissed at trevor, and was ready to tear him a new one if one of her brothers hadn't already gotten to him yet. alex took the bag from the back seat and let her walk inside first. "im-im sorry for just barging in like this, al. i didn't know where else to go." she said sighing as she made her way to the kitchen. "don't mention it molls, you're family. im always gonna be here for you." he said smiling and pulling her in for another hug. he kissed the top of her head, as she calmed down a bit more. "did you tell your brothers?" he asked softly and he felt her shake her head. "nah...you know one of them would be flying out here even if they have practice or a game tomorrow.." she said giggling just a bit. alex knew that to be true. "well good thing i dont have work tomorrow so lets make some pizza and watch the office?" he grinned, pulling back and heading to the freezer. "frozen pizza session? dont have to ask me twice." she hummed preheating the over and taking out two pans. the two worked in unision, opening the pizzas and placing them on the cooking sheets to go in. "do you have any seltzers?" she quesitoned opening the fridge and saw her favorite brand, "oh would you lookey here." she grinned taking it out and opening it. "its like you knew i was coming." she hummed chugging just a bit. "well if i didnt have it, we all know youd chop my head off." and she saluted him with a knowing smile.

the two spent the night watching the office and finished off both pizzas and molly with a few seltzers. the two passed out on the couch for what seemed like hours before molly awoke to her phone ringing with her brothers contact popping up. "hello?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and seeing the sun begin to rise. "oh thank god you're ok!" jack said rubbing his tired eyes and molly heard luke sigh in the background. she looked over at alex who was sound asleep and she headed over towards the first floor powder room. she turned on the light, chuckling to herself as she saw just a tiny bit of tomato sauce on her chin. "wanna tell me why you turned off your 360 location missy?" jack demanded and molly rolled her eyes. "you have us worried sick - not to mention mom and dad calling us at 2 am asking if we had heard anything and then you've got trevor als-" she cut him off, "oh he was worried as to where i was? im sure he could give two shits jack." she said pinching the bridge of her nose and sitting down on the covered toilet. "whats that supposed to mean?" he asked taken back a bit, "maybe you should call your so called bestie back and asked what he said to me last night and see if you can put the pieces together as to why i turned my location off and left the house." she spat, and heard jack whispering to luke to call him. "he said something that really hurt me jacky and i-i had to leave. im with alex, im ok. i proimse, im just very upset with trev." she said softly, her lip quivering. "oh lovey, im sorry. what did he say? just so i know what to scream at him." he added the last part, causing her to giggle just a bit. "um-- its stupid." she hummed, trying to downplay the situation. "lovey it cant be that stupid if it made you turn off your location so nobody could find you and it cant be that stupid if it made you go stay with alex. just tell us molls." luke said butting in and molly sighed.

"i just have a weird habit and i knew trevor was in a bad mood and i did it anyways and so its my fault that he blew up at me. its my fault he screamed at me." she said feeling a few tears fall out. "he yelled at you?" jack said in disbelief. trevor didn't have a bad bone in his body, when it came to molly. he looked at her as if she hung the stars and the moon, and never had any inkling to hurt her. "that son of a bitch." jack breathed as he took lukes phone from him and marched into his bedroom. "there is no reason why he should have yelled at you loves. none. i don't care if he was angry or upset at the game, he shouldn't have screamed at you. don't make yourself feel as if it was your fault. we all have our habits, and knowing you its a dumb one and one that did not warrant his outburst." luke said trying to comfort his sister. molly nodded, "thanks lukey. its just, nobodys ever yelled at me before like that." she whispered and luke's heart broke. he knew how sensitive she was and how hard she worked to make sure nobody ever got upset with her. "damn he's really going in on trev right now." luke said hearing the shouting coming from jack's room. "oh lovely, well im gonna go back to sleep. its 5 am luke, yall are nuts for calling me." she giggled and luke chuckled. "goodnight lovey, sleep tight." and she thanked him.

-

it was around 11 am when alex and molly heard a knock on the front door, and mollys eyebrows crinkled. she sipped her coffee, before digging back into her sandwich while alex went to go see who it was. "seriously?" she heard alex's lack luster enthusiasm, "i know shes here. i want to see her." she heard trevors familiar and ever recognizable voice. "listen man, i dont really feel like yelling at you right now so please just leave." alex said and trevor wouldn't budge. "the three of them have already screamed at me and picked me apart for the better part of the morning. please, i dont need anyone else to add to that." trevor said with a hint of exhaustion in his voice. molly sighed, walking towards the front door and stood next to alex, "its fine al." and alex nodded and eyed trevor before he walked back into the kitchen. "outside. now." she said pulling the door shut behind her. "what the fuck do you want trevor?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. she saw his under eyes darker and exhaustion in his eyes, and the look of pure regret and guilt written across his features. "im so sorry molls, i really am. there is no excuse for what i said or did and especially me leaving. i shouldn't have left and i shouldn't have said what i said. you know that i didn't mean it lovey, please. tell me what i can do to get your forgiveness?" he asked pulling her in close by the hips. "first off, you can take your hands off of me." she said pulling them off of her, "and secondly, you can leave. im not ready to speak to you yet. you hurt me trev, that one hurt. especially since you know its the most harmless habit of mine." she said setting her boundary.

trevor knew it would be hard to get her forgiveness, but he was also happy that she was setting boundaries because he knew that her being her, it was hard to do. even though it hurt him, he understood why she was. "nobody has ever yelled at me like that before. and i will not allow it to become a norm in it either." she said taking a step back. "so please, just go. ill talk to you when im ready." she said and trevor nodded softly, a lump forming in his throat. "alright lovey." he said taking a step in front of her, and placing a soft kiss on her temple. "ill be at home waiting." he said looking into her green eyes, and she nodded watching him leave.

-

it was two days later and alex was off for a small road trip, so as molly hugged alex goodbye she decided she did not want to be alone and lonely in the house. she cursed herself at 'caving' quicker than she liked but trevor was also her person, she missed him. over the past 48 hours she thought about the situation, thought about what she wanted to say to him and she ran it over with alex who supported her wholeheartedly. she drove down from santa monica to newport, and savored the hour and a half driving down the coast with some alred's coffee. she pulled up around 2:30 in the afternoon and saw trevor outside with jamie, pulling their surfboards off of trevors car. good, molly thought. hopefully a surfing session did some good and helped him refocus. jamie smiled widely as trevor walked passed him, once he saw molly's car pull in front of the townhouse. trevor turned around to shut his car door and saw molly's car parked, and quickly made his way over towards it. "molls?" he called out and molly rounded the back of the car, coming face to face with the hockey player. shes smiled sweetly and then waved towards jamie, who just like trevor still had their wetsuits on. "ill be inside, im gonna go get settled." she said softly to trevor as she walked passed. "call me later if you wanna get dinner." jamie said to trevor and trevor nodded and jamie left. the hockey player quickly jogged inside, looking for molly.

she stood in the doorway of their bedroom, cream hydrangeas in a crystal vase sat tall on her bedside table. a new joan malone candle stood in front of it, and saw a small card with them as well. she smiled softly, walking over towards it setting her bag on the bed. she opened it, and sat down on the bed. the letter contained everything that trevor could never get out on his own, the letter explained everything that he wanted to say but knew he'd be too flustered to say it correctly and in the way he envisioned. trevor paused at the door and saw that she was reading the letter he had written once he'd gotten back from santa monica. molly's lip quivered, and she looked up towards trevor. he quickly found himself kneeling in front of her, grabbing hands that reached out for him. "youre not losing me trev, i promise you that. i love you way too much trev, youre pretty much stuck with me for life." she hummed, giggling a bit. he smiled widely pulling her in for a kiss. his hands softly grasped her cheeks, pulling her closer. after a few seconds, they pulled apart before going in for more.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

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random tags: @zegrasworld @hugheshugs @itsnotgray @slafgoalskybaby @zegrasbabyyy

[heyjudeb]

Lake Secrets - Jude Bellingham

Chapter 2: You Can Trust Me

Summary: Grace Alexander Arnold, an architecture student, looks forward to a quiet summer at her brother Trent's lake villa. Her plans change when Trent's best friend, Jude Bellingham, arrives with his family. As Grace and Jude spend more time together, a secret romance begins to grow. Amidst the peaceful lake and family gatherings, will their hidden feelings last, or will they fade away with the summer? Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: fluff, emotional moment, anxiety

Note: The story will develop more in this chapter, they will share intimate moments

“Come on, Jude, that was way too far!” Trent complained as he swam toward the ball, which had splashed down several yards away. The sun was high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the lake.

“Sorry, my bad!” I called back, laughing. Jobe splashed water at me playfully, shaking his head.

“You always go overboard, bro,” Jobe said with a grin. “Literally.”

Everyone else was sitting near the shore, either deep in conversation or doing their own thing. Diane and my mom were chatting under a large umbrella, while Trent’s dad was stretched out on a lounge chair, soaking up the sun.

Grace was sitting on a towel, a book in her hands. Every so often, she would look up, watching us play. Her gaze lingered, and it was clear she was admiring the sight of us having fun in the water. She looked like she wanted to join in but was holding back.

She was wearing a white short dress with straps that stood on her forearms, revealing her bare shoulders. She always made sure to pull the strap up on her left shoulder as if to cover something. We would sometimes make eye contact and smile. Anytime I said something funny, I felt the need to look for her approval, which I got every time.

"Hey, Grace. Why don't you join us?" Jobe, my brother, called out. Her smile slowly turned into a worried expression, and she sat up from laying on her stomach.

"I'm good, Jobe. I don't feel like swimming today!"

"She's not into this, mate," Trent quickly spoke for her. I couldn't help but wonder if there might be something more to this, but I decided to let it go.

I also wanted to take a break. We'd been in the water for almost an hour, and I was hungry. Diane and Grace had prepared some delicious snacks that morning in the kitchen: cookies, mini sandwiches, and a variety of other treats. I had watched Grace make them while I ate a late breakfast of cereal at the dining table next to the kitchen. She looked effortlessly pretty while cooking, even in casual clothes and with her hair in a simple braid. Her face was slightly puffy from sleep, her skin clear and fresh. I couldn't help but think how lovely it would be to wake up and see her first thing in the morning. She seemed like the kind of girl who would understand you, truly get your inner self, and make life easier by being the best partner. She didn’t come across as complicated to deal with, yet she still held an air of mystery.

"Alright, how about we take a break to eat?" Trent said, as if reading my thoughts.

We all nodded and got out of the water. Diane handed each of us a towel and put the food basket in front of us where we sat. I munched on the mini sandwiches Grace had prepared, trying to catch a glimpse of her without making it obvious.

"Sweetie, do you want something too?" my mom asked Grace, making her look up from her book. She nodded and placed the book aside, moving to sit between me and Trent.

She grabbed a sandwich and started eating. Jobe was making everyone laugh, and her attempts to laugh without spitting out her food were very cute. Eventually, everyone gathered around to eat until there was no food left.

As dusk approached, our parents decided to call it a day, leaving only me, Jobe, Trent, and Grace by the lake. They gathered everything and took the short walk back to the villa, leaving us with some towels and our clothes. "How about we take another swim before leaving?" Jobe asked, winking at me. I couldn’t quite understand what he was hinting at.

"Sure, bro. Let's do it!" Trent agreed, and we all stood up, except for Grace. She remained seated, avoiding our looks. "Wanna make a run for it?" Trent looked at me, and I laughed and nodded in response. Jobe held back as we made a run for it, but then I heard a scream from behind me, causing Trent and me to halt and spin around. Grace was screaming, and Jobe was carrying her towards the water, trying to make a joke of it.

"Please, Jobe! Put me down! I don't want to go into the water!" Grace continued to scream, kicking as Jobe neared the water's edge. There was a raw edge of panic in her voice, verging on tears.

"No, Jobe, stop!" Trent yelled, sprinting towards them, clearly alarmed.

Jobe sensed the seriousness of the situation and stopped, slowly setting Grace down on her feet. She clutched her chest, blinking rapidly, trying to compose herself and hold back tears.

"I'm sorry, Grace. I didn't mean to scare you," Jobe said, regret plain in his voice.

I approached cautiously, standing behind Trent, who was comforting her with soothing touches on her shoulders. Grace looked distant, trying to regain her composure.

"Hey, Grace. Are you okay?" I asked softly, my concern evident. I wanted nothing more than to hold her close and calm her racing heart.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" Grace quickly replied, her gaze darting between all of us, overwhelmed by the rush of questions. "It's okay! I just panicked because... It was sudden."

Trent wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple. "Hey, how about we call it a day, too?" We all nodded and gathered our towels. I kept my concerned gaze on Grace, which she seemed to notice. She flashed a faint smile at me and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, letting me know she was alright. I gave her one more questioning look.

"I'm okay!"

"Alright, good," I whispered back to her, feeling a bit awkward, like I was crossing a line between caring and flirting, especially with Trent nearby. We continued walking towards the villa, and Jobe kept apologizing to Grace repeatedly until she finally convinced him she was okay. She seemed chilly in her short dress as she tried to wrap a dirty towel around her shoulders.

"Here," I pulled her aside from the group and draped my zipper hoodie over her shoulders. She hesitated at first but then placed her hands on top of mine, gently squeezing them.

"Thank you, Jude," she said softly, walking beside me while the boys walked ahead. She held the book close to her chest, and my oversized hoodie looked like a dress on her.

"Still hooked on Bukowski, I see?" I asked, smiling at her.

"Yeah, another day, reading the same thing," she replied with a smile, glancing down. I noticed she found it difficult to maintain eye contact with me, even though her green eyes had been the subject of my daydreams since we arrived. I fought the urge to let her know that.

"You have beautiful eyes, you know?" I lost the battle. She seemed taken aback by my comment, continuing to look down but smiling nonetheless. "Thank you!"

"Are you always this shy?"

"Depends on who I'm talking to," she replied, finally meeting my gaze after a moment's pause. "Some people are intimidating." "Am I one of them?" I asked, feeling like I might have put her on the spot, but our conversation was going so well I wanted to keep it going. "Maybe!" she replied with a playful smirk, giving me a thoughtful look that made me laugh.

....

As soon as we reached the house, we took showers and changed into fresh clothes, all gathering on the backyard patio one by one. Grace was the last one to come down. We were all having a glass of wine by the firepit, laughing and talking. I couldn't really make out her figure until she approached fully because of the dark.

Her braids were out, and her hair lay on her shoulders, still wearing my hoodie. She looked comfortable in it, and it suited her better than me. Miraculously, the only empty spot was a bean bag next to me. She approached slowly and smiled at me as the fire illuminated my face.

"Hey," she spoke softly.

"Hey, you feeling better?" I asked, wanting to make sure she was comfortable after the incident at the lake.

She gave me an assuring smile. Our voices drowned in the noise of the others talking, the fire crackling, and lots of laughter. It felt like it was just the two of us. The darkness provided a sort of shield for me to freely look at her.

"Are you enjoying your stay so far?" she asked, keeping our conversation going.

"So far, so good. I really like this place!" I responded. "The house is very nice, and the view is breathtaking."

"It is," she said, either looking at my face or down at her hands while talking. "It will be a nice vacation break for you guys!"

"You said you've been coming here with your family every summer," I recalled her words from the first day. "Do you still find the place exciting?"

She sighed and leaned further into the bean bag. "Uh, yeah! But, the older I get, the more I want to experience other places as well. My dad isn't really a big fan of me traveling alone or staying someplace else... to study alone."

It felt like she was confessing an issue of hers. I wanted her to trust me, to feel comfortable talking to me about anything. I'm sure she doesn't do that very often. "I want to do my major abroad. But my dad wants me 'close' to him." she used air quotes and seemed hurt and defeated remembering her father's words. "Why is that?" "Just a stupid conclusion my dad has." She didn't want to continue the conversation, so I didn't push her any further.

While having a good time with everyone, the fire slowly started to die down. I took a look and saw Grace already asleep on her bean bag. She brought her legs up to her chest, and put her hands all the way inside my hoodie, holding them near her face.

"Guys, I'm calling it a night. I'm really tired," my dad said, and my mother agreed, getting up to leave with him.

"Yeah, it’s been a long day," Trent said, stretching. "I think I’ll turn in too." He followed my parents inside.

Jobe yawned and nodded. "Me too. This vacation life is wearing me out." Trent's mom noticed Grace fast asleep on the bean bag. She approached her slowly, lightly tapping her on the shoulder. "Sweetheart, we're heading to bed. How about you continue your sleep in your room?"

Grace hummed in response, not really registering what her mother was saying. Diane looked at me, and we both smiled at Grace's sleepy state. Diane tried waking her up again, but Grace only opened and closed her eyes a few times, not fully awake.

"Do you want me to take her up to her room, Mrs. Arnold?" I offered, not wanting to disturb her. Diane looked at me gratefully and nodded.

I stood up from my bean bag and carefully scooped Grace into my arms. She naturally nestled her head into the crook of my neck, her hands tucked inside the hoodie's sleeves, close to her chest. She felt like the missing piece of my puzzle, fitting perfectly in my arms.

Once we got inside, I said goodbye to Diane. Her room was on the first floor. She wished me goodnight and entered quietly, trying not to wake her sleeping husband who had called it a night way before us.

I took slow and careful steps on the stairs, fully aware of their creaking. After each step, I glanced at Grace, ensuring she wasn't disturbed. When I reached her bedroom door, I struggled to open it slightly.

Thankfully, her bedside lamp was on for some reason, casting a soft glow and helping me navigate the unfamiliar room. I placed her delicately on the bed. She snuggled her face into the pillow as soon as it touched the soft surface, her eyes slowly fluttering open.

"Thank you..." she managed to say in a raspy, low voice.

"Of course. Have a good night's sleep, Grace," I responded. My inner self urged me to kiss her forehead goodnight. Instead, I gently pulled the bed cover up to her shoulders. That's when I noticed a scar on her left shoulder, where my fallen hoodie exposed her skin. It was on the side she had tried to hide earlier at the lake. I brushed my fingers on it slightly, causing her to shiver. I stood up from the bed and turned off the light next to her, slowly making my way out of the room and into my own. I took off my shirt and shorts and crashed into bed only wearing my boxers. I was a bit tired myself too, but I really wanted to know the history behind that scar. .....

It had been more than a week since we arrived. Our families' bond had grown significantly over these days. Aside from our morning exercises and evening talks, I rarely spent time with Trent alone.

Our mothers were really enjoying the villa, constantly cooking something new and sipping wine on the porch. Our dads engaged in debates over various topics, beers in hand, as they relaxed by the lakeside. And then, there were always the four of us doing things together.

And green is still my favorite color.

My obsession with Grace has grown. The more time we spend together, the more she begins to trust me. Now, she maintains eye contact while we talk. She opens up about her passion for architecture, detailing her studies, her close bond with Trent, and sharing her likes and dislikes. I find myself struggling with the question of whether Grace feels a deeper connection toward me or if she is simply being friendly. It seems more than mere coincidence that we always end up seated next to each other, and that chores are consistently assigned to us as a pair.

She still has my hoodie. The other night, as we both got up for some water, I caught sight of her in the kitchen, wearing my hoodie and shorts. There was a moment of surprise in her eyes when she noticed me. She quickly tried to explain, mentioning how comfortable it was and apologizing, saying she would return it.

Instead of insisting, I simply said, "No, keep it. It looks way better on you."

Her cheeks flushed slightly, a soft smile playing on her lips. It was a spontaneous comment, but one that felt right in the moment. Seeing her wear my hoodie, looking effortlessly comfortable and somehow even more attractive, stirred a warmth in me that I couldn't deny. Let's go for a swim today, lads," Trent interrupted my racing thoughts.

Jobe eagerly agreed, but Grace lowered her gaze and muttered something under her breath. It wasn't the first time she had declined to swim. Despite hanging out with us by the lake, she never ventured into the water.

Sitting together on the patio bean bags, Trent and Jobe moved to prepare for swimming while I stayed behind, drawing closer to Grace, hoping for a moment of privacy.

"Hey, is there a reason you never join us in the lake?" I asked softly.

Her discomfort was palpable, evident in the way she shifted in her seat." It's just not my thing-" she spoke quickly.

"Can you come with us this one time? Please!" I pleaded, hoping to convince her. But as soon as I noticed her beautiful green eyes getting foggy, I knew I shouldn't push her further.

"I'll just stay in my room this time," she said quickly, standing up and leaving before I could say anything else. Her sudden outburst left a lingering sense of concern in the air. .....

We we're back at the dining table in the evening, enjoying another meal after a tiring day at the lake with only us boys. Grace hasn't spoken to me since our last encounter earlier. She quickly munched on something and excused herself sitting at the far end of the backyard near the lake view in the complete dark, with the excuse of wanting to read in peace. Me and the others had a normal routine, had a glass of wine and then went to bed. In my room, I could still see her silhouette by the lake. I decided to go up to her. Everyone was asleep, the only source of light being the moon once again. I tried to make some sound while I approached her from afar, not wanting to scare her. She turned around to look at me, giving me a tired smile and then focused her eyes back at the lake. I sat next to her. Our shoulders brushing. "You know you can trust me, right?" I asked her directly.

"I know," she replied softly, her gaze still fixed on the lake.

"Why are you afraid to swim, Grace?"

She remained silent for a moment, as if weighing whether to open up to me. I reassured her with a gentle touch on her knee.

Her breathing became more audible, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.

"It's just..." Her voice cracked, and she fell silent again.

"It's okay. Take your time. I'm right here for you." I held her hand firmly, feeling it tremble slightly in mine. "You know that scar you saw on my shoulder the other night?" she asked. I nodded at her, but still surprised she could remember that in her sleeping state. "It happened when i was younger while swimming. Do you see that empty looking house right there?" I nodded. " That's where Lily used to live." "Used to?" I became curious of where she's going with this and why was it affecting her so much. "She died. She was my childhood bestfriend." She let out a small sob, i quickly wrapped my arm around her shoulder, providing her some comfort.

"There's an old pier on the other side of the lake, hidden away now. Lily and I used to go there to play. One day, we were climbing around it, and Lily slipped. She grabbed my leg instinctively, pulling me into the water with her. She hit her head on the metal as we fell."

She paused, her eyes distant as she relived the memory.

"Lily suffered a head injury and died instantly." Grace continued, her voice catching. "I had a hurt leg and some scratches, making it hard for me to stay above the water. But I managed to pull her now-red and bloody body from the water and call for help."

Grace looked at me with sad eyes, almost as if seeking closure. I kissed her forehead gently and rubbed her forearm in reassurance, but she still seemed scared and shaky after all these years.

"So you never swam anymore?" I asked softly. She shook her head, her expression pained. "I'm afraid something bad will happen," she murmured.

"I understand," I said, kissing her temple again. I held her like that for a long time, whispering sweet nothings to her. "But what if we try something different?"

I gently took her hand and helped her stand up. Slowly, I guided her towards the water, feeling her resistance as she shook her head vigorously.

"Hey, hey, hey," I murmured soothingly, holding both her hands. "I'm not going to push you or anything, sweetheart. Just relax."

She nodded hesitantly, her gaze locked with mine, her eyes reflecting fear and uncertainty.

"We will stop whenever you want to. Let's just try to put our foot inside the water," I suggested gently.

"No, no. Jude, no please!" Grace's voice was alarmed, filled with fear.

I cupped her face in my hands and gently placed her forehead against mine, holding her close. "You can trust me, Grace." .......... Coming up next:

Chapter 3: Favorite Poem

Warnings: fluff, physical contact, crying, angst

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

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Everyone has their favorite cousin; for you, it's Sabrina.

A year younger than you, she shines brighter than any star. Whenever Aunt came to visit, the two of you would escape to worlds of your own creation.

In the comfort of your childhood backyard, two pink napkins were laid out, creating the perfect setting for a whimsical tea party. Cookies and toy cups waited on the makeshift tables. She would always wear her little crown that she never forgot to bring, and you would eagerly gather your beloved stuffed animals to join the celebration as additional guests.

Born to a single teenage mother—who, in Mother's eyes, was the height of irresponsibility, “unfit” for motherhood—Sabrina was forever shrouded in your mother's harsh judgment that "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." That she would follow in her mother's footsteps, and it wouldn't be so surprising.

But Sabrina was far from the “troubled child,” grew into a girl warmer than the summer sun, kinder than the gentle grace of spring.

Sabrina was your favorite cousin, the one you wished could maintain the kind of closeness you shared during your youth. However, just as everything good in your life, fate always had a way of destroying it.

When Sabrina’s mother married a kind, steady man after years, it was as if a switch flipped inside Mother. Gone was any goodness she had shown to her sister and Sabrina. Any invitation from Sabrina’s mom was met with excuses—"we were too busy,” “it wasn’t a good time.” Lies, more lies. The real reason was far more simple: it was the bitter, green-eyed jealousy.

Mother always did crave pity and attention from others. But the pity she received from family after Father left wasn’t the kind she wanted.

It symbolizes her failure—now, a single mother struggling when her sister thrived with her loving husband and another baby on the way. And when Sabrina’s stepfather agreed to pay for Sabrina to start taking ballet classes like you, Mother took it as competition.

She had made ballet your personal hell.

While Mother brags about your ballet success, flaunting ribbons and reviews, her pride has a price behind closed doors. Nothing is enough to satisfy her, and the standards she holds for you reach for the impossible. Every competition is followed by a barrage of criticism—you could have placed higher, pointed your toes more.

Third place? "You’re wasting my money, girl." Second place earns you a dismissive "Second only means you’re second best." Even first place yields her saying, "Don’t get a big head over a stupid ribbon. It doesn't mean you're the best; it just means everyone else was worse."

Just as everything is good in your life, fate always has a way of destroying it.

(Or is it your mother?)

The old, naïve part of your mind argues that she's doing this for your own good. After all, diamonds aren’t made without pressure—a familiar refrain she repeats every time you beg her to stop, every time you sob so intensely that you struggle to breathe, feeling like a sacrificial lamb. And every time, she just watches in detached observation, with the slight upturn of her lips like a scientist admiring the results of her own making. Like a woodcarver appreciating the strokes of her knife.

Like a mother to her daughter.

(Because she's my mother, she should want the best for me, right?)

And that old, naïve part of your brain is still alive, apparently, even after you’ve left home and settled miles away. She's your mother; she must have your best interests at heart, even though the harshest words often come from her mouth.

She only has your future in mind, even if sometimes you wonder if she loves you at all.

The subtle thump of the car against the window jolted you out of your memories, and you opened your heavy eyelids, groggily regaining your bearings. You wiped your dry lips, relieved no drool dripping your chin in your nap. Looking out the window, you could see the trees whizzing by. Beside you, Simon's eyes fixed intently on the empty, straight road ahead.

At first, you had firmly convinced yourself that you wouldn't attend Sabrina's wedding, giving Simon excuses of work obligations and other lies to justify your absence. Then, Henri happens: he decreed the entire week mandatory rest for all dancers—prompted by the high stress level, but it's likely a more... specific case of frustration that pushed him over the edge: a certain ballerina who still danced her Black Swan coda like a flailing, drunken mess.

Finding yourself with an open schedule due to the unexpected break, emptiness now filled your time, leaving ample room for unwanted negative feelings—specifically, guilt. You end up reconsidering everything, even taking a Barbie out of your worn cardboard box from the closet. The doll bore the results of your and Sabrina's "artistic" minds, its hair chopped off and skin adorned with Sharpie tattoos. He responds to the doll's rough state with a sarcastic compliment.

That’s how you ended up on a short road trip with Simon. The man’s long leg stepped on the accelerator as the car continued to speed through the English countryside. Glancing up, the tiny skeleton charm swung gently where it hung, its hollow sockets seeming to stare back at you.

“Are we almost there?” you asked Simon.

At your question, he turns to you, eyes lingering for a moment before redirecting his focus on the road. “Reckon another five minutes, and we’ll be pulling up.” 

You look out the window. More trees; the dense forest seems to go on forever. Finally, a break appears, and up ahead looms the sturdy building you assume is the venue listed on the wedding invitation.

It was a manor, with solid brown brick walls and a three-story structure topped by a roof spanning each wing. Double-paneled doors were flanked by columns and arched windows. All around, emerald grass was cut to perfection, not a single blade out of place. In the center stood a two-tiered fountain, adorned with carvings of little angels spouting water into a circular pool. It was a heartwarming, romantic storybook vision.

Tearing your eyes from the scene, you glance over at Simon in amazement. “You certainly seem to know your way without GPS.” You comment.

He gave a noncommittal grunt, one-handedly turning the steering wheel as he maneuvered the car into an open spot behind a row of others. “Got a good sense o' direction, is all.”

As the rumble of the engine fell silent, you unbuckled your seatbelt but lingered in your seat, not quite ready to exit the safety of the vehicle. Through the window, you searched for distractions to ignore the uneasy flips in your stomach.

Simon reached out to reach the dashboard; you moved back slightly to give him more room. He grabbed for his plain black surgical mask, but your curious gaze landed on something else. A pair of black gloves—each finger had a contrasting white skeleton bone. You leaned in without thinking, drawing them out to inspect closely.

“I see you have a thing for skeleton.”

Simon glanced sideways at you as he hooked his mask over his ears. “Keep things interestin’,” he said lightly, voice muffled by the material. He pressed the wire along the bridge to mold it to the shape of his nose.

Pulling his keys from the ignition switch, he pocketed them with a jingle. Simon pushed open the door and stepped out in one smooth movement. He rounded the front of the car, walking to reach for your door. Pulling the handle to assist your exit, you took a deep breath before accepting his offer and slipping out of the vehicle.

A loud gasp pierced the air, followed by rapid footsteps rushing towards you. You turned your head from the sound of your name being called, finding a familiar face staring back at you. Sabrina. Now, a grown woman, changed from the girl you once knew. She stretched out her arms as she pulled you into a tight hug, blonde curls bouncing with her joyful smile.

“You came!” She cried happily, pulling back to look at you. “I’m so glad you made it!”

You returned her smile, your nerves melting away from her presence alone—the magic Sabrina had on everyone. “I wouldn’t miss your big day,” you told her.

She swept her eyes over you from head to toe appraisingly. “And look at you! So beautiful!” she said, and you were sure it was just the dress you had bought two days ago doing its job.

Sabrina shifted her gaze, and you remembered the companion standing patiently beside you. Her eyes swept over him assessingly, mixed with curiosity and wariness. Same old Sabrina. She glances at you briefly, and you know an introduction is in order.

Drawing a breath, you begin, “Sabrina, this is Simon. He, uh…” Your voice faltered, unsure of what label to use to describe him.

Simon reached out with nonchalant confidence to Sabrina. “Pleasure.”

With a hint of skepticism, Sabrina's lips tested the unfamiliar name, "Simon." Her face contorted as if it tasted bitter. She narrowed her eyes as she noted, “Funny, she has never mentioned you before.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and a chill ran down your spine as you replied, “There just… hasn’t been a good time to bring it up.”

You hoped that your explanation would be enough to divert the attention away from Simon, but it seemed futile. Sabrina was infamous for her stubbornness and overly protective nature, especially when it came to those she cared about. Like a tigress, she fixated a calculating gaze on him, as if preparing to pummel him on the spot if he gave her the slightest reason.

“Right,” she mumbled.

Sabrina made a show of dropping the conversation but felt compelled to ask one more question. “Any particular reason for the mask?” Her tone was sharper now, as if daring Simon to answer her.

Hastily, you jumped in. “He’s just feeling under the weather, doesn’t want to spread his cold.” It was a stupid lie, and you knew it, but Sabrina tilted her head in faux consideration.

“How thoughtful.” She commented, suspicion lingering at the edges. Hardening her eyes once more, she gave Simon a subtle threat. “You better take good care of this one.”

“Always.” Simon replied, calm and sure.

Satisfied, Sabrina’s expression switched like flickering sunlight. Clapping her hands in excitement, she announced, “Alright, time to meet Andrew and the others! And I’ll show you to your room!”

With that, she spun on her heels and marched toward the door, her long skirt swirling. Simon and you followed after her at a more sedate pace. Your heart rate slowed in relief that the confrontation was over.

Glancing at Simon, you grimaced, muttering a hushed “Sorry about her.”

Simon says nothing, depriving you of the answer, and you thought this was his way of punishing you for the excessive protectiveness of your cousin. He had driven a considerable distance to accompany you to a wedding of someone he didn’t even know, only to be met with suspicion and unwarranted scrutiny by Sabrina, then tasked with the responsibility of "taking care" of you, despite not even being your boyfriend.

However, in stark contrast to your feelings, Simon seemed to brush off the situation with nonchalance. The slight lift of his black mask and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes clearly indicated a smile hidden beneath it. There was no offense taken.

As you emerged outside the back of the manor, bright sunlight made you blink to adjust. When your blurry eyes cleared, a beautiful scene was laid out before you.

In the wide green field stood a picturesque wedding arch, still bare of the decorations that would soon adorn it. Nearby, tables draped in crisp white linens were set where groups mingled, laughing. Some were busy gossiping and enjoying the buffet; some were occupied in a croquet match.

Sabrina chuckled beside you. “They’re trying to recreate a Bridgerton scene but clearly failing miserably.” At her comment, you smiled too, admiring the carefree warmth pervading the atmosphere.

Gesturing wide, Sabrina said, “Help yourself to the buffet over there, and tea or coffee if you’d like. Oh, and this is Andrew, my fiancé!”

A tall, handsome man approached and pressed a kiss to Sabrina’s cheek. She bloomed with a rosy blush as she beamed up at him. “Babe, this is (Y/N) – you know, the cousin I’ve always told you about, my sister from another mother!” She gushed.

Her sweet description of you stirred a smile in your heart. You turned to Andrew, accepting his handshake. “It's wonderful to meet you. Sabrina talks about you all the time,” he says.

“And this is Simon. He came with (Y/N).”

Andrew reached out to offer a new handshake with Simon. “We're glad to have you both. Please, make yourselves at home.”

Giving a nod, Simon took his hand. “Appreciate the welcome, mate.” He replied.

“Oh my God!”

A high-pitched, sharp voice pierces the air, shattering the calm. Your head pivots, and you see your aunt making her way towards you, her arms stretched out in a gesture much like how Sabrina had welcomed you earlier. The embrace she gives you is as warm and smothering as you remember. Drawing back, she sweeps her teary eyes over you. “Look at you! You’ve grown into such a beauty!”

"Definitely," Sabrina chimes in, seconding her mother.

“It’s lovely to see you too, Auntie Joyce.” You replied, smiling at her.

Joyce pinched your cheek lightly before directing her attention past you, eyes widening in surprise. “And who is this?” she asked, gaze landing on Simon with curiosity. Before you could introduce him, she gasped even louder and glared at you as if she had just realized something big. “Why, he must be your boyfriend!”

Your heart leapt at your aunt's bold insinuation. Joyce didn't bother waiting for your confirmation before enveloping Simon in a tight hug. His shoulders tensed, and he looked confused—his hands hovering awkwardly, unsure of how to reciprocate.

Luckily, the ordeal wasn't prolonged, and your aunt finally retreated, not forgetting, of course, to give his bicep an extra appreciative squeeze. 

“Oh,” she chuckled, “you're quite the fit one, aren't you?”

“Mom, please!” Sabrina groaned, shaking her head at her mother’s antics.

Joyce dismissed her daughter's protests with a playful wave of her hand, saying, "Oh, come now, relax! It's a wedding, not a funeral." She positioned herself between you and Simon, slipping her arms through each of yours to guide you both forward.

“Just look at this place,” Joyce continued, her voice filled with admiration. “Isn’t it stunning? Sabrina had such brilliant ideas, she has a real eye for these things. Just wanted everything perfect for her and Andrew, they deserve the best.”

The older woman stopped in her tracks. She turned to the two of you, looking at you both in turn, hazel eyes filled with sincerity. Grasping each of your hands in hers, she hosted a warm, meaningful smile on her face.

“Mark my words, it’ll be your turn before you know it.”

The well-intentioned tone in your aunt's words was apparent. Auntie Joyce had always been sentimental, wearing her heart on her sleeve and never hesitating to express her thoughts. Yet you couldn't help but think that now, her words seemed misplaced—directed at the wrong people. After all, you and Simon weren't even dating, but rather just two people seeking each other's benefits and comfort. The concept of love seemed incredibly distant, and her trying to cling it to you felt like staining purity with sin.

Instead of imagining your own wedding, you feel panic building in your fingertips. You can hear your heartbeat—the ringing in your ears.

What does Simon think of the implications? He’s only here to accompany you, to make the anxiety easier to handle. But now, it’s as if you’ve brought him here for another purpose—a scheming opportunist trying to trap him with suggestions of commitment he’s never agreed to.

Before your thoughts could spiral further, a voice cuts through the chatter—an awfully familiar one, sending your body into instant shock.

“Joyce, where did you run off to?” It called out, tone softer, but your brain is only capable of recalling the rougher version of it.

Joyce waved at the newcomer, ushering her over. “Your daughter’s here with her boyfriend! Can you believe it? Why didn’t you say?”

Boyfriend. She had said it.

In that moment, horror washed over you. Your pulse quickened, racing like a frightened animal. Palms grew slick with perspiration. The world seems tilting off its axis. Something very sour stirred in your stomach, almost triggering you to retch onto the lush, green grass.

Then came the chuckle, low and mocking—and you're already aware of the person who now stands before you.

Slowly, you lift your gaze to meet the eyes so reminiscent of your own, settled in a face that still bears resemblance to the features you’ve inherited from her. She looks the same as the last time you saw her in San Francisco, except for the absence of anger, now replaced by a smile that graces her red lipsticked lips. It's a familiar expression, the exact one she uses whenever she detects hints of your defiance.

(The ghost haunting my dreams, the monster under the bed.)

The woman who had drilled into you time and again: A man’s heart is truly a wretched, wretched thing! Her vengeance against Dad had warped her into keeping the wound wet and bleeding so that it would not have time to heal, so neither of you forgot.

And here you are, betraying everything she had taught you by daring to bring a man into her world. Something crawled up your throat—heavier this time. This wasn’t panic; this was guilt.

When she saw it written on your face—the shame of your transgression—her eyes gleamed with cruel triumph at catching you out.

Auntie Joyce’s question was almost forgotten, but she never forgot. You watched her lips part, and her gaze changed to the one she always wore when she was watching your every move. Ever the watchful one.

“There just hasn’t been an opportunity yet.” She replied smoothly.

In that moment, with her lie not much different from yours for Sabrina, you realized something – that for all the distance between you, mother and daughter were never truly separate. Her poison still coursed through your veins, flowing in every pump of your blood. Every one of your thoughts and actions was controlled by her, whether she was in front of you or not.

Just as everything is good in your life, fate always has a way of destroying it. No, you disagreed.

It was my mother.

@strawberrygato @aprosiacperson @chipsbuttercream @arrozyfrijoles23

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[kissingghouls]

The Prince

Part Five - The Hungry (ao3 // one // two // three // four)

Vampire Terzo x F!Reader

Summary: With Primo's help you and Terzo try to find a solution to save your vampire. (21500 words I know. I'm sorry.)

Tags/Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, BLOOD, horror themes, vampire violence, vampire bites, blood drinking, major character injury, vomiting, magic, SMUT, unprotected sex, and more tags on ao3

apologies and thank yous at the end 💜 xo Ghouls.

 Part Five – The Hungry

“Did you sleep well, piccolina?”

Primo’s deep voice carried from the far side of the kitchen barely audible over the rumble of thunder outside. It was somewhere between morning and afternoon, though the storm made it difficult to tell one from the other. Heavy rain pelted the stone walls of the cottage in a steady thrum in time with the howling winds. This type of scene used to be so comforting, but now watching water bead and trail down the windows just seemed to make you anxious. Sitting across the room and trying to make small talk with Primo Emeritus didn’t seem to help either. As kind and inviting as he was, he was still a complete stranger. An immortal stranger with superhuman strength you were supposed to stay far away from. Instead, he’d insisted on baking cookies for you.

Shaking your head, you jolted a little as the kettle began to scream from its spot of the stovetop. Sleep had been the furthest thing from your mind after Terzo’s spell. A full night’s rest would have been a dream, but there was no getting comfortable in this situation. How long could you be safe here in the middle of nowhere? How long would they wait this time?

“Primo, can I ask you something?” You wondered aloud, hoping the impending conversation would drown out the sound of the storm and your own thoughts.

He inclined his head, silently urging you to continue. A loose piece of his long, white-blond hair fell over the painted lines of his face as he moved; the rest was carefully tied back with a thin black ribbon. His focus remained on the pale green kettle in his hand as he transferred water into a dainty teapot at the edge of the counter. He moved with such precision, yet still maintained some impossibly delicate grace—the opposite of the way Terzo carried himself. There were other differences—far more than you could count—but where Terzo’s softness was an edge blunted by time, Primo’s seemed to be gently blurred into everything he did.

A flash of lightning filled the kitchen with bright light, the bank of windows on the eastern wall providing the perfect vantage point. You shuddered as thunder followed, too close and too loud for your own comfort. The storm blew a gentle breeze through the cracked windows and the ceiling fan above dragged it further in as it spun in lazy, lopsided circles. The kitchen smelled of florals and tea and rain, feeling like a Sunday afternoon you shouldn’t have access to. Everything was a little too dreamy, made fuzzy by a filter tinged with warm yellow-green like a flashback to someone else’s nostalgic past.

Someone else’s life. 

“Why settle in this place?” you asked, vividly recalling the cracked asphalt and sun-bleached everything you’d passed on your way through town. “Why…here? The secluded cottage makes sense, but why live at the edge of some abandoned nowhere town?”

He turned to look at you for a beat before reaching for two teacups. “Well,” he started as he dropped a teabag into the pot. “It wasn’t always abandoned, piccolina.”

He set a cup in front of you before joining you at the table, a sigh leaving his lips as the wooden chair creaked beneath him. “This town…it used to full of a unique vibrance that drew me in. I suppose on some level I grew comfortable here, much like the other remaining residents. But mostly I stayed for the work. That’s what I told myself anyway. I have no doubt that Terzo would have you believe otherwise, but immortality can be incredibly mundane. When I found myself in this little town, I watched it grow from nothing just like I had done with a thousand other little towns in my lifetime. But this one—it was easier to fight that feeling of boredom here, to find a purpose. I chose to put my energy toward something, to have a common goal with the people here while I could. There’s a darling botanical garden on the edge of town, built something like seventy years ago, give or take. I helped fund the project.”

“Really? So, it had nothing to do with the cute girl that delivers your groceries?” 

Black and white paint may have covered his entire face, but you could see Primo’s ears turn bright red. “That—she—hmph. She wasn’t even born yet. Neither were you for that matter.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s not the reason you stay.”

“The garden— “

“Sure, sure,” you teased. “Work, work, work.”

“Don’t start picking up bad habits from your beau, piccolina,” he warned. “Youth is wasted on the young indeed.”

“Not if you have an eternity to do something about it.”

He laughed quietly as he poured the most delicious smelling pink tea into each cup. “I forgot how much I enjoy such a human point of view. What of you and your eternal boytoy, hmm? What will you do when this is all over?”

You shrugged, pausing to consider his words. “Haven’t really thought that far. I think…I think I’d like to do all the things I never could before. No matter what happens I can’t go back to my old life—I wouldn’t want to go back, knowing what I know now. If I have to build a new life, it might as well be a better one than before. And if that sounds good to Terzo, then I’m happy to try building it together.”

“Hmm,” he replied with a thoughtful nod and faint smile playing on his lips.

“Belleza, I am happy to build you anything you want. But boytoy? Is that really what you’ve settled on, fratello?” Terzo grumbled as he appeared in the doorway, half-asleep with pillow marks on his face. He dropped into the seat next to you with a heavy sigh and rested his head on your shoulder. “Is that really all I am to you?”

“No. Sometimes you’re more of manbaby,” you replied and kissed the top of his head. “It’s ok though.”

“Ugh, I am so glad you two are getting along,” he teased sarcastically. “You are a bad influence on her, Primo.”

“Me? What did I do?” Primo mused as he took a sip of tea.

“You encourage her—”

“Ah.”

“—to be mean to me,” he whined. “What happened to that wide-eyed naïve girl from before, hmm?”

“I have no idea who you are talking about,” you responded flatly.

“Ah, yes. What happened to the fierce and terrifying woman who pretended not to be watching me sleep every night?”

“She met an unbelievably arrogant vampire.”

He sat up and shot you a big, toothy grin. “Oh, bellezza, was I your first?”

Primo groaned loudly and pushed away from the table. “Whatever you’re trying to do fratellino, do not do it in my kitchen.”

“Ah, calm down old man. I’m only teasing.”

“You were the one I liked enough to save. Even with your baking skills.”

Primo nearly spat out his tea. “Oh, Terzo, tell me you didn’t.”

“I was trying to do something nice for you, bellezza. But fine, fine. Let’s all pick on Terzo!” he grumbled as he stood. For a split-second the life left his eyes, the light within him dimming like a flickering lightbulb in a haunted basement. He was completely blank—jaw slack and body limp. Primo crossed the room before you could even think to react, rushing over to keep his brother’s body from collapsing to the floor. Terzo recovered just as quickly, coming back to himself as he stumbled slightly. He wrenched himself out of his brother’s hold and glared at him, teeth gritted.

“Fratellino—"

“Don’t,” he hissed. “I am fine, Primo.”

“Clearly you are not. How many more times has this happened?” Primo asked, looking back and forth between the two of you.

You crossed your arms over your chest and raised an eyebrow. It had been a few days since the incident in the bedroom and—as far as you knew—he had been completely fine ever since. If he’d started having spells again, this was the first you were hearing of it despite the promise he’d made. “Terzo?”

He shifted from one foot to the other, face washed with guilt as he concentrated on the floor and shrugged. “It… it’s happened a few more times now.”

“A few? What the hell, Terzo?”

“It was only for a couple seconds, bellezza! It wasn’t like the other times!”

“That’s not the point!”

“She is right, fratellino,” Primo agreed gravely. “You should have told me this was still happening.”

“Oh, do I need to report every detail of my life to you now? Would you like to know exactly what we did last night?”

Primo’s teacup flew from his hands and hit the sink, bursting into dozens of porcelain shards. He was so angry he was shaking; his white eye seemed to glow with his fury as his face darkened. You and Terzo jumped as he began to shout. “Satanas, Terzo you are still so stubborn!”

“Bellezza,” Terzo started quietly, moving between you and Primo. He placed a hand on your cheek and lowered his voice. “Would you please excuse us for a moment?”

You nodded silently, searching his eyes for any sign of worry as he urged you to go. You’d barely made it a few steps out of the room before the argument properly started. As you moved through the cottage their voices turned from hushed tones to an almost violent sounding shouting match. The escalation had them rapidly switching between languages to find the right words to fit their ire. None of it made much sense to you, so you let the bedroom door close behind you with a soft click.

No matter what you and Terzo had tried, the little bedroom still carried a faint smell of dust and disuse. The humidity had been so bad that leaving the windows open was hardly an option. At night when the heat broke the sounds of insects droning in the woods was so loud you could hardly think. By the time the storm rolled in, you’d given up completely on trying to air out the room.

You collapsed on the creaky old bed, balling the ancient quilt in your fists. It was still happening. Whatever they’d done to Terzo, whatever poison they’d created this time was still living within him. Things were already complicated enough, but if Terzo was still effected after this many days you knew it would only get worse. If he was hiding it from you, maybe they already had.

A tear slipped down your cheek. You’d been through so much together in such a short time, so many fucked up situations that most people would never have to think about. In some way it made sense if he didn’t trust you yet—you understood that, especially with the way the two of you had ended up together. What you couldn’t understand was why the thought of Terzo not trusting you hurt so much. Why it felt like hot knives in your chest, the searing painful burn of unease. Maybe you hadn’t done enough to show him he could trust you. Maybe he never would. You pressed a throw pillow over your mouth to stifle your cries, endlessly embarrassed by whatever this fucking feeling was.

A soft, barely audible knock on the door signaled the end of the Emeritus screaming match. Terzo said your name from the other side, speaking so gently you knew he had heard you crying.

“Bellezza? May I come in?”

You swiped at your face, brushing away whatever stray tears were left as you called out, “is that some kind of vampire joke?”

The door opened a crack, just enough that you could see his eyebrows pull together in confusion. “We don’t—that’s not a real thing.”

“I know. It’s ok, you can come in.”

He shuffled into the room and closed the door behind him. As he reached the foot of the bed, he dropped to his knees and laid his head in your lap.

“I’m terrible at this,” he admitted quietly.

“At what?”

“Apologies…relationships…honesty.” He sighed heavily. “Vulnerability.”

“None of those things are easy, Terzo.” You ran a hand through his hair as he nuzzled his face into your leg. “I’m not good at them either.”

“You deserve better than me—”

“Don’t say that.”

“I just mean…you deserve a better me than I’ve been lately. I should have told you.”

“Do you trust me?”

He looked up and locked eyes with you. “With my eternal life, bellezza. With everything I am.”

“No more secrets, ok? I want to help you, but I can’t if you keep hiding things from me, Terzo. It…it fucking hurts.”

“I am so sorry, bellezza. So, so sorry. I will tell you everything, anything you want to know.”

-x- Four Months Later -x-

Primo’s house smelled sweet—like sugar and fresh vanilla mixed with roses flowering in a gentle breeze. But underneath the pleasant scent was a hint of copper, a warm metallic tinge that permeated absolutely everything. Your entire life was covered in blood; it coated your borrowed clothes and seeped into your bedsheets, hanging in the air like a permanent red haze. You couldn’t get away from it if you tried. The taste settled on your tongue, bitter and harsh without the sweetness of Terzo’s kiss to wash it away.

Even the gardens felt wounded, the lifeless and bare shrubs now naked against the chilly autumn wind. The surrounding woods had turned as red as everything else, a dying fire against a cold, grey sky. It was hard to stay hopeful on days like this, hard to see beyond what looked like the end of the world.

Your world, anyway.

This was not how things were supposed to go. Stillness fell over the property, stretching past the woods to blot out the stars. You sat at the end of the path, knees in the dirt as you tried to decide your next move and the world just…carried on around you. Time and nature weren’t bound by the same crushing weight that followed you day-in and day-out. They just kept moving. Kept changing.

You dug your hands into the soil, grasping for something—anything—to distract you from the tears slipping down your cheeks. You were so tired of crying. Tired of thinking and feeling and being while just fucking waiting. Waiting for months with only uncertainty and pain to keep you company during the day. Waiting and watching as your lover struggled and grew weaker. You wanted to scream, wanted to scream so loud and for so long that even the old gods were forced to watch you cough up blood. It wouldn’t help but it would be something, anything that didn’t feel like this.

Something that didn’t feel like mourning.

“Do werewolves have big teeth?” you asked him, genuinely curious. Of all the things you’d come to learn about, you still had trouble wrapping your head around your sweet elderly neighbor transforming under the full moon.

Terzo gave you a half-smile as he rolled onto his side. “Not as big as mine, bellezza,” he replied suggestively, practically purring in your ear. His hand fell to your hip, pawing at the bare skin as he nipped at your neck.

“You are the absolute worst,” you groaned, but you didn’t mean it. You never did. These moments with him—these silly little conversations shared in the afterglow with bare chests and sweaty skin—you’d give anything to keep each other here forever.

“Ah, but not five minutes ago I was the best you’d ever had, no?”

“I never said that?”

“Excuse me—"

“It’s true, but I never said it. Wouldn’t it be kind of fucked up if you were bad in bed? Like how many years have you been doing this? A couple thousand?”

“Bellezza, I am not that old,” he grumbled.

“Well, that’s a shame. I’ve been into older men lately.”

“Better only be one man.”

“Aw, Terzo are you jealous?”

“What if I was, amore?” There was hurt in his tone, a seriousness that bit into you with venomous fangs.

“Terzo—”

“I’m sorry, amore mio. I know this isn’t easy for either of us, but—”

You cut him off by covering his mouth with your hands. “You are the only man for me, Terzo Emeritus. Do I need to show you again?”

A warm hand gripped your shoulder, pulling you back to the dying garden. Primo didn’t even flinch as you flung yourself at him, tears and dirt staining the silk of his fancy robe. He’d never mention it; Primo never once asked you to stop feeling, never told you to pull yourself together or chastised you for being an embarrassment to the organization. Primo Emeritus—a man you were taught your entire life to fear above all others—only ever offered you a shoulder to cry on.

And if that wasn’t enough, he’d simply offer the other.

He held you tight, quietly humming some centuries-old forgotten lullaby as your tears ran their course. He wouldn’t speak until you were ready. He never pushed or insisted that this would pass. He just waited to hear what you had to say. It took you a long time to get used to that level of empathy, for his simple acts of compassion to not feel like ulterior motives. But eventually you realized he couldn’t fix you any more than you could stop him from being a vampire. He only wanted to help you.

“It’s not fair,” you managed between sobs. “It’s not fair.”

“No, piccolina, it isn’t fair,’ he agreed, smoothing a hand over your hair. “It’s too much for either of you. But I swore to you I would help, sì?”

You nodded numbly.

He knelt in front of you, grinding more stains into the material of his robe as he placed a hand under your chin. “I would not lie to you, piccolina. I will save Terzo. No matter the cost.”

“What do you mean the cost?” you shot back, voice trembling.

He tutted softly and patted your hand before helping you to your feet. “Nothing you need worry about, my dear.”

“Primo,” you leveled. “What are you—”

“Hush now, piccolina. Why don’t we wake the sleeping beauty? We can discuss things together later, eh?”

You nodded once, knowing the vampire would hardly take no for answer. But something still ate at you, gnawing away at whatever sense of calm you had managed until you were nothing more than an exposed nerve. No amount of Primo’s wisdom or comfort could help you with this one. 

“Could I—can I have a minute alone with him first?”

“Of course,” he replied with a kind smile. “Would you care for some coffee?”

“Yeah.” Before he could get too far you reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently. “Thank you, Primo.”

It was too small of a phrase for all those feelings, but someday you would find a proper way to tell him how much this all meant to you. For now, you hid your sniffles behind your hands and waited for the older man to disappear back inside before gathering the courage to face Terzo alone. 

Over the last few months, the little room at the back of the cottage had slowly become something like a home. Your home. A cozy space you and Terzo had carved out of Primo’s infinite kindness and filled with odd, yet beautiful things from Terzo’s past. A collection of his vintage clothing and accessories had been stashed away in a closet, pieces from another time left here to idly wait for him to return. Neither Terzo nor Primo had shared why he sought sanctuary here those years ago, but rediscovering his old treasures made him so happy you didn’t need to ask. You trusted him to tell you when he wanted to.

If he ever wanted to.

Your feet dragged over the rug, the soft fibers adding some kind of familiar constant in this new life of maybes and what ifs. With a deep breath, the scent of clove and cologne filled your lungs, a warm combination you’d grown so fond of. Some days you went as far as spritzing the cologne on your own wrist to feel closer to him while he was stuck like this.

As much as this place was home, it was also a mausoleum. A place your lover was laid to rest, spending most of his days in a state somewhere between life and death.

Terzo lay on the bed, his eyes closed and his skin dull and grey. His lips had turned a horrid shade of blue made that much worse the longer he “slept.” It never really looked like he was sleeping—his sleeping face was so much more expressive than this empty vessel version of Terzo. Primo once said it had something to do with circulation, trying to explain the line where science met magic to form their physiology. You listened, but it never made much sense to you. You didn’t need to know. All you needed was for your immortal undead boyfriend to be not dead.

No matter how hard it was, your days weren’t always spent in some lonely pit of despair. When Terzo was awake he was still the same old Terzo—effortlessly funny and charming in a way you had never expected. He seemed intent on making your life together as normal as it could be, still trying desperately to woo you with grand romantic gestures straight out of those movies he loved. Some nights you’d stay up well past an acceptable hour, just listening to him share stories from his questionable past, tales of “years ago” that could have meant 3 or 300 years. There were other nights the two of you poured through a book about the history and architecture of Meliora House, marveling at photos of the grandiose mansion in its heyday. He would have you close your eyes and pick a random page before telling about each room in incredibly vibrant detail. While you never stopped being impressed by your boyfriend’s ability to recall so many things over so many years, your heart broke for him that such a big piece of his past had been destroyed forever. How many other things had he lost to time in 900 years?

You made it your mission to create as many memories as you could in that little bedroom with him.

Sighing heavily, you climbed into bed and pressed as close to Terzo as you could. You gently brushed a few wayward hairs from his face, hating how cold his skin felt under your touch when he was stuck like this.

“Sorry I was gone so long,” you whispered, laying your head on his chest. You would’ve given anything to hear him take a breath, for him to wrap an arm around you and hold you tight and kiss you so hard your lips bruised. Sometimes you wondered if you just wished hard enough or found the right god to ask…

“I know you said you can’t hear me when you’re like this, but there’s something I really, really want to talk to you about,” you whispered. “And I’m afraid I won’t be able to when you’re awake. If you’re awake…then it’s real and you’ll hear it and you’ll know. But if I don’t say it, if I don’t tell you…what if you never get to hear me say it? What if you never know? If you never get to hear it because I was too scared to say it…well, that’s no good either. So, what do I do?” y ou asked with a laugh. “I mean, I know what you would tell me to do, but it’s just…I don’t know. I guess it really isn’t that easy, huh?”

You reached up and kissed his cheek as you considered your options. You’d traced every line and crease of the man’s face, memorized every mark and scar so thoroughly they might as well live on your own skin and it still wasn’t enough. You had watched him for so long now—before you’d ever met him—and you could still spend hours just studying someone so beautiful it made your heart hurt.

He deserved to know you looked at him the same way he looked at you.

“I love you, Terzo Emeritus,” you confessed quietly. “And I’m going to tell you to your stupid, handsome face. I will tell you every day, whether you can hear me or not because it won’t change how I feel.”

You swiped away a tear and cuddled closer to Terzo, holding him for what felt like hours. It wasn’t enough; it was never enough. As Primo knocked on the bedroom door, you buried your face in his chest to hide your emotions from the other vampire as much as you could. He’d seen you express everything from rage to grief and back already of course, but if you could spare him one more pep talk you would certainly try. As he shuffled in, the smell of strong coffee began to overwhelm the subtle hint of soap and sweat that lingered on your lover’s skin. No matter how hard you wished you could stay and get lost in him you knew it was no use.

Primo’s slippers scuffed against the hardwood, cups rattling on the same tarnished tray he carried in every evening. Ambling through the room, he set the tray aside and gave you a half-smile before producing a glass vial from his pocket. You sat up and offered your left arm, the right already bruised to hell from previous draws. You hated this part, hated that this had become so routine. You couldn’t get away from the smell of blood, but you’d grown numb to the sight of your own.

The next part was always easiest. A bandage for your arm and a regiment of supplements and vitamins to keep you healthy. Things that kept the blood strong, Primo had told you when it became clear this was headed toward an everyday occurrence. You swallowed the pills down and accepted the cup of expensive coffee the older gentleman had made for you.

The two of you had bonded so much in these shared albeit terrible moments. You doubted he would be so quick to let you into his life without the forced proximity, but Primo never seemed to be bothered by having you around. It didn’t take long for you to understand that he was a balancing act, a man on a highwire with bound hands and nerves of steel. But those feats of strength could not hide the worried, emotional side of a man several hundred years your senior. There was something in the way he had leaned into this caregiver role, something that suggested there was more to his story than what he was comfortable sharing with you. But there were times that he would share, absently recounting stories from his own past. He once told you how Terzo had become frighteningly ill as a child, somehow remembering that very same fear of his brother at death’s door though several centuries had passed. He swore to you in a moment of raw honesty that just as he had done everything in his power to save Terzo as a boy, he would not stop until he saved him again.

And he promised that Terzo never had to know how much you cried.

“Did you two have a nice talk?” he finally asked, turning away. He hunched over the tray and jabbed a spoon into the thick, noxious mixture of tea and herbs whatever else he used to bring Terzo back to life.

You shrugged, not willing to make any more confessions for the day. Instead, you ran a hand through your hair and gave a noncommittal sigh.

“You should rest, piccolina,” he warned with a sigh of his own. “What would he say?”

“He’d probably call you an old man,” you replied, wiping at fresh tears with the back of your hand. “Or he’d put on his grouchy voice and mumble the equivalent in Italian to get under your skin. What’s that thing he always says? Testa di Cazzo?”

Primo chuckled. “Yes, I suppose he would call me a dickhead. Lovingly, of course.”

You managed a small smile before the tears threatened to fall again. “I really miss him, Primo.”

“I know you do, cara. I miss him, too. Though it is nice that someone finally found a way to shut him up for a minute.”

You snorted out a laugh. “Primo!”

“Just trying to lighten the mood, piccolina.” He knelt in front of you and made sure he had your full attention before he spoke. “I will cure him,” he assured you. “I promised you, sì? And I am nothing if not a man of my word. I know finding a solution has taken more time than any of us would like, but—Bah! Let’s wake him, eh?”

You nodded and looked down at your hands. You’d bitten your nails to the quick and ripped your cuticles to shreds over the past few weeks, your body trying so hard to fight off the anxiety that threatened to swallow you. There was dirt deeply embedded under your nails from digging into the ground out of desperation. Pieces of earth still stuck on your skin like tiny reminders of your every fear. “Please don’t tell him—”

“I would never betray your confidence, piccolina. Are you ready?”

You drew a deep breath, centering yourself before giving him a firm nod. Moving to the other side of the bed, you propped up Terzo’s body as much as you could, fighting against the dead weight and stiff muscles. You slid behind him, wrapping your arms around his chest to hold him in place while Primo readied the last ingredient for that awful elixir.

The smell was terrible, an overpowering punch of rust and dirt and the potion stuck to the inside of Primo’s teacups like roofing tar. The final ingredient had to be added seconds before consumption, like the half-life of shots of fine espresso but not nearly as appetizing. Primo nodded once to make sure your hold was strong before removing the stopper from the vial.

Terzo’s eyes shot open as the smell of iron flooded the room. Wild, hungry sounds erupted from Terzo’s mouth, feral growls that only grew louder as Primo moved closer and poured your blood into the mixture. The older vampire took his brother by the jaw, forcing his mouth open enough to pour the tea down his throat.

What used to take seconds now took a full five minutes. Every day you waited longer and longer for the vampire’s rigid body to relax and fill with warmth again. When it finally did, he melted into you with a happy sigh. Smears of blood and flecks of herbs clung to the corners of his lips as they stretched into a smile.

“Amore,” he whispered dreamily. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

Primo pushed the cup into Terzo’s hand before ruffling his hair. “Drink the whole thing, Terzo.”

“I will,” he whined. He made a face as he took another drink and struggled to keep the liquid down. “Augh, happy?”

The older man said nothing as he turned and left the room.

Terzo quickly chugged the rest of the mixture before he turned and nuzzled into your chest. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

And there it was, the last thing you wanted to hear ever again. You groaned and pushed him away, climbing to your feet. Tired of having the same conversation, you slipped into the bathroom to hide the fresh tears that filled your eyes. Primo offered you an out after the fits gradually became worse. He told you that you were free to leave, that if you wanted you could go on and start living a new life. He said you didn’t owe Terzo anything, you got him this far and that was more than enough.

You’d never been more offended in your entire life.

Part of you understood it was out of kindness, that Primo didn’t want you to sit and watch Terzo “die” over and over and over. As nice as it would have been to avoid, you couldn’t help but think how panicked and hurt Terzo would be if he one day woke up without you. The thought broke your heart into a million little pieces, just like it broke you heart that there were still days like this. Days when he’d wake up ready to push you away. His misguided, half-hearted attempt to spare you from this never ever worked. Sometimes you could even joke with him about it, but today…today, with dirt from the dying garden still stuck under your fingernails you wanted nothing more than to be with him.

“Bellezza,” he whispered softly as he appeared behind you, almost panicked.  He wrapped his arms so tightly around your middle there was nowhere else to go as his lips hovered near your ear. “I’m sorry, my love, amore mio. So sorry.”

You nodded and learned against him as the walls of that tiny bathroom began to close in on you. “Terzo—”

“Forgive me, amore?” he asked, pressing a kiss into your cheek. “Please forgive me.”

You turned to face him, staring deep into his odd, beautiful eyes. It was too hard to hold onto all that sadness when he looked at you that way, when he begged you. Your request was a whisper, a desperate plea in the silence of the room for him to just kiss you. He crowded you against the wall like he had done so many times over the course of your relationship and captured you in the most devastating kiss just as you’d asked. It was easy to get lost in him like this, to forget the awful trial he was being forced through and each painful day it meant for you. To forget all of it and let him be Terzo and only Terzo. You craved the way his touch quieted your mind, a gentle reminder that he was still here—that he would still be here.

It doesn’t take long for the spark to catch—it never took long with the two of you—and before you knew it, he was on his knees in worship of you. And maybe he did worship you, but you didn’t ask. You didn’t say much other than “please” and “more” as his fingers traced over every inch of your skin, committing you to memory on that bathroom floor.

It was slow and soft and you think Terzo Emeritus might be the only person who could ever fuck you against a wall and still call it “making love.” But you know that’s what he’d say because that’s what it is for both of you. You couldn’t stop yourself as he dragged his sharpened teeth across your collarbone and looked at you through heavy-lidded eyes, so blissed out and alive. It escaped you like so many of the tears you had tried so hard to hide from him and it hung over your heads as Terzo stared back at you, unblinking.

“What did you say, bellezza?” he asked, eyes wide and hips still.

You brought your hands to his face, holding him there. “I said I love you, Terzo,” you repeated, though you could hardly believe you’d said it yourself. “I love you.”

“M-me?”

“Yeah, you.”

“Oh, bellezza.” His mouth crashed against yours, clumsy and hungry as he tried to kiss you a thousand times all at once. “Love you,” he managed to say between breaths, directing most of his concentration toward carefully laying you on the floor. “I love you,” he repeated as he repositioned himself over you and slowly slid his cock back into your heat.  “I love you…and you love me.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you warned.

“Too late for that, amore mio. You’re there forever now.” He grinned down at you and pointed at his chest. “And here too.”

“Ugh,” you groaned, rolling your eyes. “You’re such a fucking sap.”

“Sì, but you love me.” He made a point of circling his hips to watch you writhe and keen under him, smiling the entire time.

“Terzo, please.”

“Anything for you my love,” he whispered into your ear before changing his angle and beginning to fuck you in earnest. As he drove each thrust home, you could see stars in your vision. That white-hot passion that had always burned between you was a flare, a lifeline you could follow back to safety, to someone who loved you. To someone you loved.

He held you close as you came, his fingers digging into your hips as your own clawed at his back. He followed soon after with his face buried into your neck, his breath almost instantly cooling your heated skin. He stayed between your legs, lazily mouthing at your collarbone as you both came down from the high, completely addicted to each other.

“I’m so sorry, bellezza. Please, please forgive me,” he begged once more, finally resting his head on your chest. His hair fanned out, sticking in odd patterns to the sweat on your skin as he lay claim to you once more.

“I already have,” you admitted softly, carding a hand through his messy hair. “Shower?”

He nodded. “In a minute.”

You granted him as much peace as you could on the patterned tiles of the bathroom, silently lying with him and holding him close until he was ready to start the day—though it had to be close to midnight by then. Things seemed to move slower in Primo’s house, as though time itself had its claws in the two of you. Even tiny gestures like Terzo’s fascination with washing your hair could never be rushed no matter how much shampoo he managed to get in your eyes.

You were the same way, of course. Taking care to steady your hand before tracing the angles on his face in that black paint. It was no small task, especially not after he explained the meaning behind it. Every time he would tease you about the serious expression you wore while trying to even out the lines on his nose, taking this delicate, intimate part of his life and making it into some silly game. And you let him, finding yourself unable to stop doing anything that made him smile. Even if that meant you were now in charge of buttoning his shirts for him half the time.

Part of you missed those ridiculous crop tops.

-x-

Terzo settled his hip against the counter, watching closely as you moved through the next part of your routine. Preparing his midnight “breakfast” fell on you as Primo very quickly forbid him from using any of the appliances, some unspoken memory of a culinary disaster shared between them with a knowing look. Carefully, you poured the contents of a blood bag into the mug that previously held your coffee. Try as you might, you could never get Terzo to explain why he liked sharing your cup, he simply asked that you did. It was one of his more reasonable requests.

With the cup in the microwave, the two of you watched the faded design slowly spin in the ancient wood-paneled machine. What once read “Everything’s better in” some town was barely legible after at least a decade’s worth of runs through the dishwasher. The cottage was full of things like that—old and yellowing, well loved, but still functional. You cracked a smile, thinking about how similar your 900 year old vampire boyfriend and a microwave from the 1980’s could be.

“What’s so funny, hmm?” he mused and pulled you into his arms.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing, huh?” He squeezed your sides, tickling you until you let out a high pitched squeal.

“Stop,” you managed through a giggle. “You wouldn’t like the joke anyway.”

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but the ungodly howl of the microwave timer cut off anything he was about to say. He reached for the cup and took a long pull, savoring the rich taste of A Positive with his eyes closed. A pleased hum rumbled in his throat as he tried to lick away the leftover traces, but a deep red line formed above his upper lip.

You smiled and let your eyes trail over every little line and soft ridge buried under the paint. Such fine details were only visible up close when he was painted, but you liked the way they added a softness to the harsh angles. You reached over and swiped your thumb across his lip to wipe away the blood mustache.

“You know I’m not going anywhere, right?”

Terzo stared back at you wide-eyed. After a beat he nodded and lowered his gaze, staring into his substitute meal with a hint of shame.

“I know, bellezza,” he offered quietly. “I’m sorry. I just—sometimes I can’t understand why you would stay with me.”

“Yeah, well. If you have to ask, you’re dumber than you look.”

“How dumb do I look?” he shot back, deeply concerned.

“Oh, bello.” You pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “You don’t look dumb. At all.”

He beamed at you. “Bello?”

“Sì, bello. Bellisimo, even.”

“I love you, bellezza, but your pronunciation is terrible.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you groaned. “Testa di Cazzo.”

“Such a dirty mouth,” he tsked.

“Said the vampire with a blood mustache.”

“Straws are bad for the turtles, bellezza,” he informed you, his mouth set in a deep frown. “I saw it on the news.”

“Ha! I’d believe you could fly before I believe you watched the news.”

He sighed. “Ok, fine. It’s something I heard Omega say once.”

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. He was so warm after he ate that you couldn’t help but relax against him. “Do you think Omega and Alpha are enjoying their extended vacation?”

“I doubt they’ve ever been happier. They’ve asked for a swimming pool for Christmas for the last, oh, thirty years?”

“Do you even celebrate Christmas?”

“No! Which makes it that much more irritating when they ask—"

“Hate to interrupt,” Primo chimed in as he appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Feel free not to then,” Terzo shot back with a wave of his hand. “We’re busy.”

“Apologies fratellino but it cannot be helped. There is something we need to discuss.”

“No,” he replied with a frown. “No ‘discussions’, no tests, no nothing. Not today, Primo. Please?”

It was Primo’s turn to frown, deep creases forming between his eyes and around his mouth. He looked older somehow, more wrinkled and tired than he had a few hours ago. His body appeared almost frail, like a distorted reflection of the way Terzo had become brighter and livelier.

“Primo, are you ok?” you asked gently.

“Always, piccolina,” he replied dismissively. “Now, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. Could you two join me in the lab?”

Terzo sighed heavily and knocked back the rest of his breakfast in one gulp. “Do we have a choice?”

“No,” Primo responded simply.

Together you quietly made your way through the back of the house and down the set of stone steps that marked the boundary of the original cottage. A large glass conservatory stretched across the back of the property; an addition made sometime later where Primo spent most of his time these days. The air in the structure was sticky and humid, heavy with the heat of the day still trapped between the thick panes.

You settled on the small sofa hidden amongst the massive leaves, the pollen from the fresh blooms making your nose itch as you looked around Primo’s makeshift laboratory. A worktable that should have been used for flower arrangements and propagation was covered in countless glass flasks filled with odd concoctions and a colorful assortment of potions. Some bubbled under the heat of an open flame, while others slowly dripped into a new container like moonshine being distilled in some prohibition hideout. Each mixture had been crafted by hand while Primo consulted some dusty old tome, working tirelessly to keep his brother alive. You weren’t sure if it was basic chemistry or some magical alchemy the old vampire had his hands in, neither would really surprise you.

“What is it you want now?” Terzo asked, clearly annoyed by Primo’s insistence. “More blood?”

“No, fratellino. You should sit down.”

He looked nervous, hands trembling slightly as he sat and sank into the sofa. It wasn’t an expression you were used to seeing on the carefree vampire’s face, even when things had been at their worst. Something in Primo’s tone scared him, which only made you frightened in turn. You slipped your hand into his, fingers intertwining in a silent reminder that you were there with him. That you loved him.

The exposed skin of his hands glowed with warmth—with life. You were glad to see him feeling better. Looking better. But Primo’s solemn expression cast a dark cloud over everything in the room. Whatever he had found, whatever he needed to say didn’t look good.

“Fratellino, how do you feel?”

“Better than you look,” he replied in a suspicious tone. “Why do you ask?”

Primo pinched the bridge of his nose. “Terzo…this isn’t easy—”

“You can’t fix it,” he whispered.

“No, Terzo that’s not—” he rushed. He paused with a sigh, searching for the right words. “What’s happening to you—the poison is…complex. It took a great deal of time to break it down and discover all the components—to understand why our temporary solution treats the effects, but hasn’t made any improvements toward ridding your body of this thing—"

“You’re blaming my body for this?”

“Of course not. Will you let me finish?” He snapped harshly.

 “Fine,” Terzo huffed and crossed his arms over his chest as he pushed further into the sofa.

“Mi dispiace, mostriciattolo,” Primo replied quietly. “My temper is harder to control right now.”

You felt him tense beside you as he cautiously looked up at his brother.

“You…you haven’t called me that in at least 100 years,” he noted in a whisper.

“Fratellino, do you remember what I told you when you were young?”

Terzo nodded once and wiped away a single tear with the back of his hand. Another memory shared wordlessly between two almost ancient men. “What does that have to do with this?”

“Our enemies underestimate us,” Primo replied grimly. “They think I won’t do what needs to be done. That I—have never faced such a harrowing challenge in all my lifetimes. Surely that is the only way to survive this long, sì? Fear in the form of self-preservation. That I would choose my life over yours.”

“What are you saying, Primo?”

Primo shrugged. “The thing that binds us to each other, the thing we need to survive—they underestimate its power too. I would die to save you, Terzo. I would do it all over again without question. And that makes our family different. It is how we are bound that gives us power.” He paused to look at you. “How we can be bound to another. Our blood possesses properties humans have never dreamed of. The trouble is it will take a great deal of our blood to fix yours.”

“Like how much?” you asked nervously.

Primo didn’t answer, instead he lifted a hand to silence you as his eyes darted around the room. The faintest noise came from outside, barely more than a rustling in the grass just outside the conservatory’s walls. Both men were immediately on edge, their fangs bared in warning as something—someone—moved around the building.

“Stay here,” Primo commanded firmly before making his way toward the door.

Terzo moved so quickly it felt like missing frames in a sequence, your brain struggling to process his actions. He pressed a knife into your hand, swiped from somewhere on Primo’s table. You stared at the thing, blinking slowly until the realization hit you. Danger. Someone had finally come for your vampire.

Silently, you eased behind Terzo and prepared to strike at whatever—whoever—might present itself. You held your breath, straining to hear anything while Primo moved through the side door, his long, white hair disappearing into the darkness.

A feeling crept down your spine—forgotten yet so familiar—winding your nerves tighter and tighter like a loaded spring trap. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, dialing your senses to eleven as you scouted the room. Your pulse raced uncomfortably as the chemical tried to take over your body and mind, every cell screaming for you to fight. To run. You’d spent most of your life training yourself not to be afraid, but that was easier said when the only thing to lose was your own life. But now, with Terzo—with the man you loved—standing before you, that sense was heightened.

There was a desire to throw yourself in front of the vampire—to protect him. No matter what it might cost you.

A shadow formed in the doorway, a large and imposing figure looming in the dark. You readied yourself as it stepped forward, prepared to fight off whoever had come for you. Light hit the solid form and the familiar image of harsh black and white paint in a shape you didn’t recognize became clearer. The man leaned forward, squinting as he scanned the room.

Terzo let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he called out, “Secondo?”

You felt your heart stop as Secondo Emeritus focused solely on you. With each determined step he ignored Terzo’s shouting and shoved him hard as he passed. He crashed into the sofa, the frame completely shattering from the impact and the sharp snap of solid wood bursting into pieces became the soundtrack to your false sense of security coming to an abrupt end.

Secondo had a hand around your throat before you could move—before you could think. He squeezed hard, cutting off your air as he dragged you across the room. Tears welled in your eyes as you helplessly kicked and tried to free yourself. But it was useless. He was strong, too strong. It took no effort for him to haul you up and pin you to the wall.

He stared you down, teeth gritted and eyes filled with malice. “Tell me why I shouldn’t just snap your neck right now, little hunter,” he ground out, fangs flashing with each pointed word.

Fear and pain surged through you, swirling its way around the adrenaline already poisoning your blood. Your lungs burned, screaming for you to take a breath as his fingers flexed and threatened to crush your windpipe. Years of training flashed in your head, every weakness and warning you’d ever heard. What good was any of it now that you were actually faced with an Emeritus vampire?

Maybe, maybe you deserved to die at the hands of a vampire, but you weren’t ready to find out.

You reached out and slashed at him with the knife. The blade easily sliced through the fancy material of his suit and into the soft flesh of his forearm. Again and again you cut into him, but he still wouldn’t let go. With a growl, Secondo wrenched the knife from your hand and stabbed it into the wall a hair’s width from your head. The placement was no accident. It was a calculated move to let you know that Secondo was going to kill you slowly and without mercy.

In one last desperate attempt you jammed your fingers into the wounds you carved, hoping it would break his hold. A warm rush of blood oozed around your fingers, but the vampire didn’t even flinch.

A choking sound escaped your mouth as you fought for each breath, tears streaming down your face. “Ter—"

There was a blur of movement followed by a sickening snap and you hit the floor hard. You grabbed your neck, sucking down desperate breaths as soon as you realized you were free. But how?

Secondo clumsily stumbled backward in surprise; his arm now bent at grotesque angle. Bone and sinew poked through his shredded sleeve as blood dripped onto the conservatory’s stone floor. With a great howl of pain, he pushed a protruding broken bone back into its rightful place and rounded on Terzo.

Terzo crouched in front of you, spitting and snarling like a wild animal. His teeth made a horrifying sound as he threateningly snapped his jaws at his brother. “If you ever put your hands on her again,” he growled in warning, his voice low and terrifying. “You will beg for death.”

Secondo offered him a sick smile as he stepped forward. “I would love to see you try, little brother.”

Terzo rose to his full height, squaring off with the taller man. He was almost an entire foot shorter and his slight frame made Secondo look even more muscular in comparison, but size and scale hardly mattered when it came to the strength of vampires. As old as they were, they were both powerful and possibly deadly to each other.

Secondo’s smile didn’t falter as he took another step. “Do you really think you can stop me before I get to her?”

“Would you like to find out?”

“Boys!”

Primo’s voice rang out so loud it rattled the large windows in their frames. The noise reverberated through the domed structure, bouncing around as Terzo and Secondo completely stopped in their tracks. The vampires were now frozen in their battle stances, refusing to take their eyes off one another but neither dared to move.

“I won’t tolerate you being at each other’s throats, so you might as well get over it now,” he instructed before turning to Secondo and pointing a bony finger at him. “If you touch piccolina again, you won’t be answering to Terzo.”

Secondo narrowed his eyes but otherwise stayed quiet as the warning hung between them.

You scrambled to your feet, keeping your back to the wall as you watched for the next threat. A surge of panic ripped through you as a woman in a designer outfit appeared behind Primo. She gently brushed past him with a small nod and a hand placed carefully on his arm, an ornate ring on her finger catching the light. The gems sparkled like stars in the way only real jewels could before they were hidden under the velvet sleeve of her jacket. She moved with such elegance, even as she rushed to Secondo’s side and delicately held his arm to examine his wounds. He tried to shake her off, earning himself a stern look from the smaller woman that seemed to fix him in place. He cupped her face with his non-bloodied hand, quickly mumbling an apology and something else that brought relief to her face. They exchanged a look—the kind could only exist between two people who were deeply connected or deeply in love—before he pressed his forehead to hers. Secondo’s entire being, this massive, monstrous threat, seemed to completely melt away under her touch.

Peeking out from under her collar was the faint line of a scar. You quickly realized who she must be. Reginetta, as Terzo called her, Secondo’s little queen.

What had happened to them was no secret among the hunters. Time after time you heard about how some rogue group had infiltrated his club, ransomed his assistant, and set fire to the building. How they had nearly succeeded in taking him out in the process. It was a fairy tale full of corpses and poisons, one Terzo didn’t like to discuss at all, but in your time together you had heard the other side of the story. How the hunters had tried to turn love into a weakness and forced Terzo and Secondo to watch as they stabbed his girlfriend. You knew all about how utterly helpless Terzo had felt, how it haunted and changed him from a man you suspected didn’t have a care in the world to one who carried the entire weight of it alone by the time you met.

Somewhere within the ruins of Meliora House, Terzo had also kept a couple of Lucy’s teeth.

You weren’t a part of what they’d done, but you were hardly different. Terzo was in this whole mess because of you—because you also foolishly decided to try to take out the most powerful vampire family in history. And for what? The was no glory, no noble cause. There was just some bullshit sense of victory and justice fed to you for years. You never questioned it, not even once. Not until Terzo directed his attention toward you.

There was nothing about you that was worthy of his love and yet, he gave it freely. He loved you—a pitiful, undeserving mess of a girl with blood on her hands and next to nothing to offer him.

You tried to swallow it down, to make yourself as small as possible and disappear. A wounded cry left your lips as you thought about all the damage you’d done. All that pain and heartache inflicted for centuries by hunters just like you.

He turned as you whimpered, moving faster than your eyes could follow. Holding you tight to his chest, he began to whisper a thousand apologies into your hair before you could even think to protest. You didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve him, but he was right there with you. Fighting the urge to sob, you wrapped your arms around his neck. Everything the two of you had been through, every errant feeling or emotion you’d pushed down bubbled to the surface and threatened to drown you. You were afraid. You were worried. You were annoyed and happy and loved. You were so, so loved. And you were the safest you’d ever felt—the only time you’d felt safe in your miserable little life—here in his arms. That thought—that knowledge burned brighter than any of the nasty things you could tell yourself about your former life.

Terzo loved you. He’d said it a million times and now you finally understood what it meant. And you’d fight to the death to hold onto it.

“You’ve got real shitty people skills, Twos.”

You lifted your head to search for the voice. Another couple appeared, gracefully making their way into the conservatory. Gold accents adorned their coordinating outfits, glinting in the soft light as they moved. The delicate fringe of their epaulets swayed as Count and Countess Copia gave their surroundings a once-over. Their painted faces hid their expressions, but their military dress suggested they were here for something serious. Terzo however, wasn’t nearly as stoic. As Copia took a step forward, Terzo let out low, warning growl.

“Oh, calm down, fratello,” Copia called out with a dismissive wave. “No one’s going to hurt you or the girl.”

“Honestly,” the Countess started and turned to Reginetta. “How on earth do you put up with him?”

It was Secondo’s turn to growl. “She’s a hunter,” he grinded out.

“Yeah,” the Countess laughed. “A teeny-tiny little hunter in a room full of Emeritus vampires. What exactly did you think she was going to do?”

“She can speak for herself,” you spat as you tried to untangle yourself from Terzo’s arms.

The Countess let out a deranged giggle. “Not if I snatch out your tongue—”

“You’re not going anywhere near her. None of you are going anywhere near her,” Terzo sneered.

“Oh well,” she hummed and turned her attention to Terzo. “Terzo! It’s so lovely to see you dressed like it’s this century.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Well, Sorella, I lost most of my things in a fire and had to run for my life.” He gestured toward her clothes. “What is your excuse for this?”

She flashed her fangs and hissed.

“Amore don’t tease a dying man,” Copia urged, and steering her away by the shoulders. He casually dropped onto the broken sofa, barely noticing the splintered wood at his feet. “Do you have any sort of burial ensemble in mind, fratello?”

“No, because I’m not dying,” Terzo corrected. His fingernails dug painfully into your skin as he buried a much angrier reaction.

“Are you sure? You look terrible,” Secondo teased, ignoring the pinch he received from Reginetta.

“If you’re not dying then why did Primo call us?” Copia asked. “Primo, why did you call us?”

“I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t,” Primo muttered with a groan. “Frankly, it’s embarrassing that none of you can be in the same room for more than two minutes before you start acting like children. I called because Terzo needs help, your help—”

“And not because you’re trying to show off in front of the little hunter, hmm?” Secondo challenged coolly.

“Mind your tone, fratellino,” Primo warned, accompanied by a low growl as he stepped toward his brother.

“Oh, here we go,” Copia grumbled with a roll of his eyes and leaned forward to grab a sharp, broken piece of wood. He tossed the makeshift stake at Primo and Secondo’s feet, issuing a challenge of his own. “You ever see a real vampire bloodbath, little hunter?”

“Enough!” Terzo screamed. His entire body shook with anger as he looked around the room, staring each of his brothers down. “You said we’d be safe here,” he spat at Primo. “You promised me.”

“You are safe here—”

“That stronzo grabbing bellezza by the throat is your definition of safe?” He let out an uneasy laugh as he turned to Copia. “Make your jokes, Copia. By all means, please have another laugh at my expense. But let me ask you what would you have done, hmm? What would you have done if Secondo had stormed into your fucking castle and grabbed the Countess like that? If he had threatened to take her life instead of killing a room full of people so the two of you could live happily ever after, huh?”

“Well, I—” Copia started, but Terzo angrily waved him off.

“I don’t want your fucking help,” he stated tersely. “We don’t need any help from any of you if this is how you’re going to treat us. If this is how you and Secondo plan to repay me for fighting your fucking battles I don’t need you here.”

“Terzo, hang on—” Secondo tried.

“No!” Terzo snapped. “If none of you have any interest in helping, just go back to wherever the hell you came from. Leave us in peace. Let me die in peace.”

“I’m sorry,” Secondo offered softly. The room fell completely silent as he took a few careful steps forward and placed a hand on Terzo’s shoulder. “Mi dispiace. I’m sorry, Terzo. I didn’t mean to—"

“I don’t need your apology,” Terzo grinded out and shook him off. “You owe it to her.”

You shook your head, finally finding your voice. “He was only trying to protect you, Terzo.”

He whipped around with an incredulous look. “He tried to—”

“I know,” you replied quickly, cutting him off. “But I don’t blame him for that. I don’t expect him or anyone in your family to trust me. Hell, I wouldn’t trust me. The things you’ve all been through…It doesn’t matter how much you trust me; I’ll still have to earn it from everyone else. You just need to know the only thing I care about is helping you and if that’s why they’re here—if that’s what Primo needs to fix you…” you trailed off and shook your head. “I couldn’t care less about what happens to me.”

“I care about what happens to you, cara mia,” he whispered.

You offered him a faint smile before pressing a kiss into his cheek. “I know you do.”

“Well, if that’s settled. Is anyone hungry?” Primo asked loudly.

-x-

The cottage had never felt so full of life. A kitchen full of Emeritus vampires, both new and old, were all finding their rhythm as part of the task at hand. Primo and Secondo were singing at the top of their lungs, beautifully harmonizing some old Italian love song while effortlessly crafting a meal completely from scratch. Copia had shed his military jacket in favor of a novelty “kiss the chef” apron while he hovered over a simmering pot. Every few moments he would look up to make heart-eyes at his Countess while she and Reginetta stood nearby, hard at work attacking a cake recipe.

It unfolded like a scene from one of those silly films Terzo loved, a dynamic portrayal of a family that only ever seemed to be found in the most idealistic fiction. Your family, what little there was, had never once committed such an act of togetherness. Even Terzo—who was barred from helping in any meaningful way—flitted around the kitchen refilling glasses of wine and slipping into conversations like the perfect host.

He watched you from across the crowded kitchen, wearing a look of warmth and light and pure love that felt almost tangible. Without missing a beat, he seized the opportunity to take your hand and pulled you into the eye of the storm, making sure you were also a part of the greater Emeritus chaos instead of on its fringes. Primo shot you an encouraging smile as the ladies turned to ask your opinion on attempting something called “Italian buttercream.”

Maybe it was better that your family wasn’t like this, that you had never prepared a single dish that wasn’t frozen or had any idea there was more to frosting than the stuff that came in a plastic tub. Until now, you only had a vague idea of what you were “missing out” on, pieces of that “perfect family” that never seemed real to begin with. You doubted you would have been able to appreciate it for what it was prior to this past summer anyway. But now, hearing the sounds swell around you in that small kitchen meant more to you than anything ever had—including that limited edition sweater Terzo was still hellbent on replacing.

The sense of calm extended over a dinner served around 4 a.m., but it was anything but quiet. Laughter was shared around the table just as much as the food. Copia and Primo scrambled to find their most embarrassing memories of Terzo through the ages like a mother showing off baby pictures to a prom date. Secondo remained distant, though he didn’t ignore you completely. Once Reginetta had warmed up to you, he even began to use more than one word to reply.

The extent of Terzo’s situation was revealed over a dessert eaten with tiny forks. After one too many glasses of wine seeped into everyone’s bloodstream, Primo laid out what he’d discovered to an audience of vampires stunned into silence. Terzo buried his face in his hands while Secondo angrily shot up from the table and began pacing the length of the dining room. 

Paying his brothers no mind, Primo outlined the rest of his plan. He’d found a solution, albeit a dangerous one. A mix of vampire blood, a rare plant, and a little bit of magic was all he needed, a list of ingredients you couldn’t quite comprehend. You tried your best to follow along and understand exactly what was needed to save your love, but the plan was so heavily flawed you couldn’t focus on anything but how risky the whole thing was. You weren’t as strong as the others, nor were you immortal, but you knew how to strategize and how to fight. You had an intimate knowledge of how the hunters’ network operated and everything Primo had laid out looked like walking into an obvious trap.

“So, this plant…you’re saying one of the only places to find it just so happens to be your little town’s botanical garden?” you asked. “I’m guessing this is the very same garden that you personally funded?”

“It is the same, yes.”

“I don’t like this, Primo.”

“I don’t understand,” the Countess interjected. “What’s the problem?”

“It’s too easy,” you and Secondo answered, almost in unison.

“Well yeah. But we could just kill them,” she replied with a huff. “Problem solved.”

“No, problem not solved,” Secondo growled back. “Are you even listening?”

“I agree we should kill them, dear Countess, but I must insist that we do not go charging into this. We will need every single body with a pulse that we can find, or we might not make it back from this. They will most certainly be waiting for us and they’ve had months to plan for our arrival. Hell, they’re probably watching us right now.”

“Ok but I do get to kill them, right? Like, after everything? Vampire snacks?”

“Who is going to stop you, amore?” Copia cooed, petting her face with a gloved hand.

“Bellezza,” Terzo started quietly. “Are you going to be ok with this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, isn’t it possible these hunters might be people you know?”

The other discussions in the room fell away as the vampires waited for your reply. There was a definite possibility that people you once knew wanted you dead, but they were part of another life completely. Even if you hadn’t fallen for Terzo, they tried to kill you. You didn’t know if it was direct or just collateral damage, but the point remained the same. The hunters placed no value on your life or his, or anyone else in the room for that matter. They didn’t care what happened to any of you as long as they got the job done.

You took Terzo’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “If they are people I knew, they’re part of my past. They’re not people I want to know anymore. Honestly, if came down to it, I’d burn the world down to save you.”

“That’s not part of the plan, correct?” Copia asked nervously. “Don’t get any ideas, amore.”

“Must every plan involve all of you walking into an obvious trap?” Reginetta asked voice shaking as she pushed herself up from her chair. She turned and made a quick exit from the room, letting the front door slam as she escaped. 

“Tesorino, wait,” Secondo called out, chasing after her.

“She has a point, you know,” Terzo added sharply, rising from his own seat. “It’s not like this sort of thing worked out well for us last time.”

“Terzo, this is different,” Primo offered.

“Oh, you’re right. This is worse. Much worse. This time we don’t have Mary, Alpha, or Omega here to help—”

“I’ve summoned Earth and Air—”

“Fantastic. Why not call everyone so you can host a proper family reunion at my fucking wake.”

Primo slammed his fists on the table. “I’m not going to let you die, Terzo!”

He sighed. “If you want to yell at god old man, be my guest. But my time is limited and I’d rather be doing anything else, so I am going to bed. Bellezza, will join me?”

You nodded once, too lost in your own thoughts to even think about sleeping. “Yeah, just um, give me a minute?”

He frowned, worry lines setting deep in his forehead. He wasn’t very good at being alone these days, especially when your time together was growing shorter by the day. That night in your apartment flashed in your mind, his soft confession about quiet being too much for him to handle. Everything you’d done since you met was to keep him safe, whether you realized or not. But were you really doing enough? Why did it sound like he was giving up?

You placed a kiss on his cheek on your way out of the room. The garden called to you once again, its empty husk now an old friend as you winded your way down the path. In the distance, the horizon was painted a streak of brilliant pink, announcing the arrival of another new day. A tear slid down your cheek as you tried desperately to steel yourself, flexing your hands into fists to keep from screaming. 

Primo had figured out a way to help him, but you couldn’t help but think of what might be lost in the process. There wasn’t much you could do about it if this was what Primo wanted—it had never been clearer that he was in charge and whatever he wanted was the plan. But the possibility of something going wrong was so obvious even the others had spoken up, though it didn’t change anything. If the hunters were as prepared as you suspected, you would be outnumbered by an enemy armed with stakes, fire, and poisons that could literally stop the vampires in their tracks. 

Was it all supposed to be some hopeless task? A trial designed for none of you to survive? You weren’t going to let that happen, couldn’t let it happen. You’d fallen hopelessly head-over-heels in love for the first time in your life and no one was going to take that away from you. All the silly plots to Terzo’s favorite movies finally started to make sense. You were so terrifyingly in love with Terzo Emeritus that you would do whatever it takes to keep him. Forever.

“It’s beautiful out here, huh?” A gentle voice asked behind you. As you spun around, Reginetta put her hands up to show she was no threat. “I’m sorry,” she started. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Sometimes I forget how easily we can sulk around in the dark.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Um, where’s—”

“Secondo?” she finished for you. “Secondo is taking a very long walk in the woods.”

“Ah. Is everything ok?”

She smiled faintly. “I won’t try to make excuses for his behavior. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you and frankly, he’s a centuries old grown ass man—He just…I hope you can believe me when I say that he loves his brothers even if he has a very odd way of showing it.”

You nodded once. “I understand. It’s…complicated.”

She laughed, her voice high and light like she was the mirror opposite of the man she was trying to defend. “Complicated is certainly one way to put it. I don’t know how much Terzo has told you and it’s not necessarily my place to share either, but there were long stretches of time where they were all living secluded lives. They cut themselves off from the world and from each other, but when everything…happened,” she paused as she fought back tears. “Terzo and Secondo blamed themselves for things that were so beyond their control. I blamed myself for—well, that’s another story. The point is, I’ve never seen Secondo as scared as he was when he heard about the fire at Meliora House. Not even when I was bleeding out in front of him, because that—that he could fix. But if Terzo had been in that house…if Terzo was—”

The tears she’d held back began to pour down her cheeks as she flung herself at you. She wrapped you in the tightest hug you’d ever felt as she mumbled into your hair. “You saved him. You might not have any idea what that means for this family, but I can tell you it means the world to me. And I know you mean the world to him.”

“It’s funny, you know? I love him. I’ve never loved anyone. I love him so much it hurts sometimes and I…I never really thought that was possible for someone like me. It sounds stupid but I think he saved me more than I saved him.”

“The Emeritus brothers are funny like that. I don’t think I ever even let myself dream of someone like Secondo.”

You cracked a smile. “Like a vampire?”

She laughed again. “I will admit that was a surprise. Did you know the Countess was a nun? It’s probably safe to say none of us could have predicted the path we would end up on. But the vampire thing…that’s only a part of who he is—part of who they are.”

“And you.”

“Yeah,” she replied with a nod. “And me.”

“Can I ask…” you drifted off, wondering how invasive you question might be.

“What is it like?” she finished and waited for you to nod in return. “It’s…different. I imagine it’s different for everyone, but once you get used to the new teeth it’s a little easier. And having someone who loves you walk you through it is infinitely easier than I imagine doing it alone would be. But as different as it is, you’re still you. Maybe a little,” she stopped to wave a hand, “amplified, but at the core you’re still everything you were. I sleep easier now, my dreams are a bit brighter. It’s not what I would call a carefree life, especially right now, but I don’t regret making that choice. Not for one fucking second.”

“Tesorino?”

You both turned to find Secondo leaning against the gate at the entrance to the garden, wearing a look of worry under his paints. Reginetta’s face lit up as bright as a thousand stars as she held out her hand to him.

“Hello, my love. Are you feeling better?”

“I am, thank you,” he replied and joined her, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. He shot a quick glance your way before taking a deep breath. “Sorellina, I—my behavior—”

“Oh.” You waved your hands. “No, no don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”

“No, sorellina, it is not okay. Please, please don’t tell him I said so, but Terzo was right—that was no way to welcome someone to our family. It was spite and cruelty that was directed at the wrong person entirely. I’m afraid right now I only have words to offer as an apology, but I hope that will be enough, at least until this whole thing is over.”

“It’s—uh—thank you, Secondo.”

“There. Was that so hard?” Reginetta teased, poking at his side. He flashed his fangs.

“You know, for what it’s worth you were actually pretty terrifying,” you offered.

He almost smiled. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Just please don’t make me stab you again, ok?”

“I think you mean let you stab me—”

“Ok, we get it,” Reginetta cut in. “You’re a big, strong scary vampire and no one can stop you, my love. But it is getting late or early—either way we should all go get some rest.” She moved quickly, wrapping you in another tight hug. “I am so glad we finally got the chance to meet. Goodnight, sorellina. Sleep well, ok?”

-x-

Terzo was sprawled out on the bed, lazily flipping through channels on the TV with his mouth set in a hard line and his shirt missing. The rest of the family could be heard shuffling around overhead, their muffled voices asking Primo for incidental things like blankets or the WiFi password. In only a few hours the cottage had turned from a secret hideout to a well-populated ancestral home, transforming into a place where the Emeritus brothers could feel and act like a “normal” family. You smiled to yourself, realizing you’d landed in the middle of some bizarre vampire version of those stupid movies Terzo loved.

He looked annoyed and tired, but with his shirt off and his sweats low around his hips he also looked exactly as he did when you first met. You weren’t sure if it was the sudden arrival of his entire family or something else making him so grumpy, but even in a cranky mood he was still the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. Thinking about it now, you never really stood a chance.

“There you are,” he huffed and turned, stretching his body like a cat in the sun. A tiny grin betrayed whatever feigned irritation had been on his face moments before as he patted the space next to him. “Come to bed, bellezza.”

How could you ever turn him down? You shed your clothes and crawled into the bed, pressing as close to him as you could get. He was still so warm and soft, not yet showing any signs of the poison’s horrible effects. You cupped his face, urging him to focus on you. “I love you, Terzo,” you whispered. “I love you so much.”

“I don’t think I will ever get tired of hearing that,” he admitted softly and brushed a hair away from your face. “I love you too, cara mia.”

“You promise?”

His brow furrowed. “Bellezza? Is something wrong?”

You shook your head. “No, nothing’s wrong. I just—I think—I have something to ask you. And I don’t think you’re going to like it, but I need you to hear me out.”

“I don’t like where this is going—”

“This isn’t something that’s going to be easy for either of us, but if this is what it takes…if walking directly into the lion’s den is our only option to save you, we have to do everything we can.”

“Bellezza, you don’t need to worry—"

“Terzo, I want you to turn me.”

Shocked, he stared back at you unblinking. “No. Absolutely not. No.”

“Terzo—”

He sat up and made a few nervous passes through his hair with his hands. “Bellezza, no. It will kill you. Do you understand that? You will die, to death.”

You sighed as you sat up to meet his eyes. “I know.”

“Then why would you—”

“Because if we do this…no matter what happens I won’t stay dead. It’s…the simple truth is that I love you,” you admitted. “And I will do anything it takes to protect you, even this. Especially this.”

He brought a hand to your face and traced his thumb over your cheek. “It should be me protecting you.”

“Do you think really I can’t take care of myself?” you asked teasingly. “We promised we would save each other and I intend to keep that promise. Forever.” You leaned into his touch, letting your eyes close as he continued to stroke your cheek. “I’m going to make them pay for what they did to you.”

“Has anyone ever told you how sexy you are when you’re angry?”

“Uh, yeah. You.”

“Come here, amore mio,” he asked softly. Carefully you climbed over him, legs straddling either side of his hips as you settled in his lap. “They were very foolish to make an enemy of you, but what you’re asking for…it can’t be undone. It is forever in a way that I’m not sure you understand—”

Your face fell. “Is that what you really think? That I’m not capable of grasping the concept of an eternity with you? That this is just some sudden whim and I haven’t considered the consequences? I have had nothing but time to think about these things since we got here. And half of that time I have spent without you, waiting every day for you to wake up and being terrified that you won’t. I have considered forever and it’s fucking scary, but I am so much more afraid of losing you.”

“Bellezza, I’m not going anywhere. Now that I have found you, I will never leave you.”

“Then why is it so crazy for me to feel the same way?”

“It’s not. It’s just—what if you wake up one day and you want a normal life, eh? That’s not something I could ever give you.”

You leveled your eyes with his. “I’ve never had a normal life. You and me? We aren’t normal people.  We never have been and we never will be. I don’t want normal, Terzo. Why would I want normal when I have what we have? I want this. I want you. I want to help my very, very handsome vampire boyfriend survive. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Ti amo tanto, amore mio.”

Your eyebrows pulled together. “You love what?”

“I love you, bellezza. So much,” he cooed and reached up to cup your face. “You are the love of my nine lifetimes and I will do anything for you.”

“Even this?”

He nodded slowly. “Even this. Forever is a long time, cara mia— “

“And it still won’t be long enough, bello.”

He smiled brightly, his sharp fangs on display. “No, but then I will have forever to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For saving me.”

You smiled. “Well, somebody has to.”

“They don’t, but I am very grateful that you did.”

“Well, I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner and that I haven’t really said it enough, but I want to be able to tell you everyday. For the rest of your eternal life.”

“It would be our eternal life, bellezza.”

“It will be our eternal life.” 

“Have you been hiding a romantic side all this time, hmm?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you leaned in close and pressed the softest kiss to his lips. “No, I must have picked it up from you.”

“Ah, I see. Well, in that case I’ve been an excellent teacher.”

“How do you stay so humble?”

“It’s a gift, my love,” he replied with a grin.

You rolled your eyes. “So, how does this work?”

Terzo’s brow furrowed as he bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m not entirely sure, bellezza. I know the basics—I drink from you, you drink from me, you die, you come back—but beyond that I’m not sure I could explain the mechanics of it all. Believe me, I wish I could give you more answers. Perhaps Primo could explain it in more scientific terms. But if this is truly what you want—”

“It is.”

He pressed his forehead to yours. “Whenever you’re ready, bellezza.”

“I’m ready. I love you, Terzo Emeritus. And I’ll love you forever.”

He leaned in, catching your lips in a sweet, tender kiss that said more than he could at the moment. He held you close, hands desperately clinging to you like it was the first time or the last time he would ever get to touch you like this. In some ways it was, but only as something fleeting, something temporary. The end of something that could give way to something so much more.

If the two of you would be forever, you’d have to start somewhere.

You barely felt his fangs cut into your neck. He had always taken such care in moments like this, always treated you like the most precious thing he had ever handled. To him, you were—and he made sure you knew every day since that first time you’d saved him. You could tell from the way he hummed against the wound on your throat his worship of you had no end. And maybe he had loved you from the very moment he saw you. Maybe you had loved him right back.

It flashed as your heart slowed, every moment the two of you had spent together replayed in your mind. Screaming at each other in the rain. The night in the garden. The kitchen. His stupid princess bed. Your entire life had led you to those moments—some bizarre, unexpected turn in your destiny had landed you here and now with the man you’d die for. A tear slipped down your cheek as your pulse grew faint, leaving you feeling dangerously calm.

Terzo pulled away and brought his wrist to his mouth, pausing as he looked at you. “Bellezza?” He asked, his voice thick with concern. “Amore—”

“It’s ok. I’m ok,” you assured him. “I just never thought I would be this happy.”

“Bellezza, you must drink from me now. Ok?”

You nodded, wincing at the sound of him biting into his wrist. He brought his arm to your mouth, encouraging you to drink as much as you wanted. As his blood flowed past your lips, you were surprised by how different it was. Terzo’s blood didn’t taste like sour metal on your tongue. He tasted like the way he loved you—warm and sweet and as endless as the edge of the universe with a heavy dash of something you couldn’t quite name. It was like drinking down something ancient and ethereal, yet just as familiar as every song or poem, book, or film you’d ever loved. As intangible as starlight and thick as honey, he tasted of beauty and joy and life.

You drank as much as you could, not wanting to waste a single drop of this gift he’d given you. It coursed through you, warm in your stomach like Kentucky bourbon and just as dizzying. You slumped against him, unable to hold yourself up any longer as his blood began to merge with your own.

“I’m here, bellezza,” Terzo whispered softly, smoothing a hand over your back. “I will always be here.”

A million questions formed and swirled around in your head, unable to travel the distance across the synapses. As they dissolved and fizzled out, your breathing slowed. Terzo kept talking, offering gentle declarations of love, but his voice began to drift until it was too far away to pick out a single syllable and you slipped into a dreamless sleep—

—and woke to the sound of shouting. The smell of blood surrounded you, dried and matted across your skin and in your hair. You weren’t sure how long you were out—long enough for all that blood to dry at least. How long did it take to die and come back as a vampire? Pain wracked your body as your heart began to beat again. Slowly at first, a heavy thump, thump, thump that pushed dead blood through your veins. Each muscle spasmed as you struggled to move for the first time in your new life.

Life? Afterlife? Or were you undead?

Fuck, it didn’t matter. You pushed yourself up, vision fuzzy as you forced your eyes open. Blurry figures with black and white hair stood at the foot of the bed, arms waving wildly as they screamed at each other. Terzo and Primo began to come into focus, but they were too caught up in their argument to notice you were awake. Pulling yourself into a seated position, you settled against the headboard and watched them repeatedly jab at each other.

“I’m not the one who’s lost his mind!” Primo yelled, his voice so loud you could feel it in your bones.

“Hah! If anyone in this house is senile it’s you, old man,” Terzo shouted back just as loud.

“Satanas help me. You idiots keep turning every woman you meet—”

“Not every woman. Just the ones we love, stronzo. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“You little—” Primo ground out some unintelligible Italian insults, repeatedly striking the back of his brother’s head as a means of punctuation.

“No, your mother stronzo—” Terzo snapped back and covered his head with his arms. “Stop fucking hitting me!”

“Nine hundred years and you still haven’t learned your actions have consequences—get back here!”

“Could you two please shut the fuck up?” You growled, pressing your fingers into your temples. Both men stopped and stared at you, stunned into silence. Relief left your lips in a sigh, the quiet filling your ears as you let your head fall back against the headboard. You unclenched your jaw, opening your mouth wide as you reached up to feel your sharp new teeth.

“B-bellezza? You’re awake?” Terzo stumbled toward the bed, quickly climbing up next to you. He took your face in his hands, inspecting it for signs of anything.  

“Looks that way, huh?”

“How—how do you feel?” Primo asked.

You felt different. What was the word Reginetta had used? Amplified. Everything louder, brighter, stronger. More. Instead of elaborating, you replied, “kind of like I want to kill you both.”

Your lover laughed nervously. “Hypothetically, right?”

“Yes, Terzo. I didn’t wake up murderous.”

“Because you were lucky,” Primo warned. “Of all the stupid things—” He cut himself off and threw his hands in the air, laughing angrily. “Mostriciattolo, you are lucky she woke up at all idiota. Ah, Mostriciattolo e Draculina. Perfetto.”

“Primo, what are you saying?”

“Nothing at all, little one.” He gave Terzo a pointed look and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

“What was that about? Why were you two fighting like that?”

He shrugged and slumped onto the bed. “Same as always—I can’t do anything right, don’t think before I act, etc., etc. It’s all very boring, bellezza.”

“He’s upset about me?”

He shook his head. “No, no, nothing like that. He’s upset about the situation. Said it was ‘beyond irresponsible’ even for me, but he isn’t upset about the outcome. He’ll probably tell you as much later. Enough about my grumpy brother, how are you feeling?”

“Kinda tired. Hungry.”

He let out a happy sigh. “Oh, amore mio. Let’s find you someone to eat.”

-x-

Reheated blood tasted nothing like Terzo’s. Thick and bitter, the lukewarm liquid stuck to the inside of some old commemorative thermos instead of pouring easily into your mouth. You turned the container up and to get liquid to drain faster, a dissatisfied grunt leaving you as your attempts failed. The others tried not to make it obvious, but each of them had cast glances of pity your way. The Countess had been particularly horrified that this was Primo’s solution to your first feed, arguing with him for five full minutes before he’d ordered everyone out of the house.

Between the less than palatable snack and the endless sway of the vehicle as it lurched over long-deserted backroads, it was hard to concentrate on Primo’s rant. As distracted as you were, it was obvious that the oldest Emeritus was no longer acting like himself. The compassionate man you’d known for months was gone, replaced by someone loud and angry. His face was harsh in the dim light, his white eye eerily reflecting the streetlamps as he spun around to bark at his family.

“Have I made myself clear?” he asked and frowned hard at the muted replies from his family.

“We get it, Primo. You’re in charge,” Terzo added sarcastically.

His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward and pointed a bony finger at his brother. “Not another word from you.”

Copia spoke up as Terzo shrank into his seat. “The plan hasn’t really changed that much Primo. Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?”

Primo growled, flashing his fangs as he sneered at Copia. “Is that what you think?”

The Countess sighed loudly and waved her hands between the men. “Are we gonna measure dicks all day or are we going to save Little Lord Terzo? Cuz I’m pretty sure I have the biggest cock around here and there’s no way our precious baby Draculina here isn’t fucking starving. And even if she’s not, I am. Your macho bullshit is far from appetizing, so can we wrap it up?”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know why you have your panties in a bunch when you know damn well every single one of us will follow you straight into hell, Primo. So let’s go.”

“She has a point,” Secondo offered. “We can talk about it for ages, but we might as well just get this thing done and get the kid someone real to eat.”

“Ooh.” The Countess’ eyes sparkled. 

“No one eats anyone until the ritual is complete. Do you understand?” Primo shouted as the van crawled to a stop. He waited for everyone to nod. “Bene. Let’s go.”

One by one the vampires filed out of the van, joined by the two hulking figures of Primo’s ghouls. They’d arrived sometime before you woke, wearing similar metal masks to the ones you recalled Omega and Alpha wearing once upon a time. Earth and Air were much larger than the ghouls you’d met back in the summer, only appearing vaguely human-shaped. Their forms were almost too perfect, the details a bit too sharp to sit well. Part of it was the heightened vampire sense, but Terzo had briefly explained they simply didn’t care enough to make themselves look more human.

You filed that in your worry about it later folder somewhere between “what have you been doing for 900 years?” and “explain werewolves,” before letting it go.

“Once we get inside, stick to the plan,” Primo ordered. 

“It’s not like we have any other options here Primo. Are you going to be like this the entire time?” Secondo asked.

The two older brothers began to argue in harsh whispers while Copia and Countess brushed past and strolled through the front door. Soft lights on the interior made the tall trees visible through the glass that encased the building, giving it a warm orange glow like sunset in the summer. It was a beautiful setting, full of ten times the greenery of Primo’s ridiculously lush conservatory. As you followed the group inside, you realized the botanical garden had a familiar touch. Primo hadn’t just thrown money at something 50 years ago—he created and curated a living work of art.

Terzo gently squeezed your hand. “Are you ok, bellezza?”

You nodded. “Does Primo still run this place or something?”

“It’s that obvious, huh? I tried to tell him they should update things, but he gets all fussy when it comes to this place.”

You hummed in response, gazing up at the lofty glass ceilings. Someday, you’d ask to come back and see this place during the day, but for now you had to stick to the mission.

“We should try to avoid an ambush if we can,” Primo began detailing his plan. “There are three paths to the exhibit we need. Copia, Countess, you two will come with me. Secondo, you and Reginetta take the central path. Terzo, you and Draculina will take the left path.”

“Is it wise to split up like this?” Reginetta whispered to Secondo who simply shrugged before whispering something back. 

“Remember, if you encounter any hunters try to leave them alive. Terzo and I will need every drop of blood we can get,” Primo warned. “We’ll meet in the exhibit in fifteen minutes. Be careful.” 

He turned and quickly walked away, leaving Copia and the Countess to chase after him with mild annoyance on their faces. Secondo nodded once toward Terzo before he and Reginetta made their way down the central path of the garden. With your stomach turning into tighter and tighter knots, you and Terzo moved through the left path.

Overhead, a system of fans and misters churned out unnatural mechanical noises, but the building was eerily quiet otherwise. Even with heightened senses you couldn’t hear any extra breathing or footsteps, no tell-tale signs anyone else was in the room with you. The occasional brush of a leaf against Terzo’s ridiculously puffy sleeve was the only sound that stuck out. It didn’t make any sense. The whole plot was designed to lure the Emeritus family here and there’s no way the hunters would’ve left the building empty.

Not even for a second.

The first shot whipped past you, barely missing your face before striking a tree. Before you could think much of it, you found yourself at the other end of the room, moving faster than you ever had. A small, metal cartridge had wedged deeply into the cracked bark, its pointed end breaking off as you worked it free. Inside, a clear liquid sloshed back and forth in a tiny vial.

“Terzo—” You’d barely turned to call out to him when the second shot embedded in your chest. Fire flared in your veins as the paralytic poison began to flood your system. Primo had anticipated this, handing out antidotes and vaccines before anyone left the cottage, but just because it couldn’t poison you didn’t mean it didn’t fucking hurt. You dropped on the spot as the vampire had instructed. Let them think it works, his voice repeated. Let them come to you.

It was easier to see now why Reginetta had been so angry about the stupid plan.

An unfamiliar face appeared over you with a cruel grin. “Aw, did that hurt? Funny how this stuff isn’t as effective on humans, but I hear it burns pretty bad.”

You gritted your teeth, keeping your mouth shut as long as you could. You have surprise on your side now, Draculina. They’ll never expect a turned hunter. Use that in your favor. You scanned the room as the man continued to taunt you, searching for any sign of Terzo.

“Where are the others, huh? I know you’re not stupid enough to come here alone.” He bent down, placing his boot on your chest as he wrenched the cartridge free. Pain radiated from the wound, pulsing in time with the beat of your heart. He tsked, shaking his head. “That won’t be enough.”

“Wha—”

He pressed a blade to your skin and whistled through his teeth, motioning to someone unseen. A dozen hunters silently emerged from the tree line and gathered to watch this man torture you. As Terzo feared, there were some you recognized, but not even one stepped forward to stop the attack. You held out as long as you could, biting down on your tongue to keep from crying out, not wanting to give them a single sliver of power over you. Blood began to pool on the floor beneath you and a tiny, wounded whimper escaped your lips before all that pain was replaced by something else.

The hunter hissed, pulling away to examine the fresh cut he’d accidentally made to his own hand. It took every ounce of strength you had left to stay still. Hunger ripped through you like nothing you’d ever felt before. A painful, consuming white-hot spark that could only be sated by one thing. You dug your nails into your palm, hoping to distract yourself but it was no use. You heard every drop as it moved from his hand and rolled down the knife before landing on the floor. It was so loud, a small insignificant sound made into a tidal wave.

You didn’t hear the others begin to shout as they drew their weapons.

Terzo stood at the edge of the path, his white eye glowing with rage as he stared down your attackers.

“Wha—I thought you shot him!”

“I did!”

“Why won’t you just stay dead?” the first hunter screamed.

“You threatened my family,” Terzo seethed, each step threatening. “You burned my brother’s business, killed his wife—"

“Hey, that wasn’t even us—”

“You set fire to my favorite house,” he growled through gritted teeth. “Reduced my home—my sanctuary—to ash and rubble while forcing us to flee in the middle of the night. You chased us, hunted us down in the city and sent assassins after us. And then you poisoned me and forced one of your own to make an impossible decision. I should tear you all limb from fucking limb for your arrogance. There is no honor among you, not a single shred of dignity spared for one of your own. You don’t even regret what you’ve done to her, what you all forced on her.” 

He cracked a sinister smile. “And now? Now she’s an Emeritus vampire and I’m going to feed all of you to her, piece by fucking piece.”

Your fangs pierced the first hunter’s neck before he could make a sound. The others began to scream and scatter, but Terzo was too fast. In the blink of an eye, the room filled with the sound of bones cracking and pained cries. A dozen bloody bodies lay at your feet, a sacrifice left at your altar by the man you loved.

The hunter hit the ground in a lifeless heap, his blood dripping from your chin as you smiled and reached for another.

“Bellezza?”

You tore through three more hunters before Terzo was able to restrain you.

“I love your enthusiasm, amore,” he purred as you struggled against his hold. “But Primo’s instructions were very clear. We need them alive.”

You turned your head, lips and teeth colliding hard with his just like that first messy kiss in his bedroom. Power rushed through you, fueled by adrenaline and something new—some impulse you didn’t want to control. Hunger. Power. Lust. Want. Need.  It clouded your brain, vision going red as you clawed at Terzo’s clothes and ripped through the fabric of his shirt. You pulled away whatever pieces you could, desperate to feel his skin.

You needed him now, more than you ever thought possible. The two of you tumbled to the floor, knees and elbows landing hard while never letting your lips part. He pivoted his hips and turned to pin you beneath him with a smile.

“Careful, bellezza,” he purred.

“Oh god, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you rushed, conscious thoughts returning in a flood embarrassment and shame. “I—I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s ok, amore mio. It’s ok,” he assured you while petting your hair. “It’s not your fault. I am rather irresistible and you might be, eh, more impulsive during your transition.”

“Impulsive,” you repeated with a laugh. “Fucking is an impulse now?”

His eyebrows knit together. “For you?”

“Don’t answer that.”

“I promise, bellezza, when this is all over—” He trailed off. He froze for a moment, muscles tense as his eyes went blank. His body went slack, collapsing on top of you in a heap of dead weight.

“Terzo?” You nudged him, slightly panicked until you felt him breathe.

He sat up, shaking his head as he came back to himself. “I’m ok, bellezza. But I think we should get to Primo quickly.”

You nodded and draped Terzo’s arm over your shoulder, lifting him as carefully as you could. You pushed through the exhibit door and into the next room, following the path with your head on a swivel. Getting shot with poison darts had felt about as good as you’d expected, and you were in no hurry to let it happen a second time.

As you moved through the building the path leading to the exhibit Primo had pointed out was suspiciously clear. You hoped maybe that was a good sign rather than a bad one, but it wouldn’t surprise if it was some elaborate setup either. The hunters had months or, depending on the size of the operation, possibly years to plan for this. Any part of of the building could be a trap.

You opened the last door to find Primo in the center of the room, hovering over what looked like an altar. Dozens of black candles surrounded him, their flames adding an eerie flicker to his eyes.

“Where the hell have you been?” he hissed as you approached and flew from his spot. He reached out, gripping your jaw as he eyed the blood staining your face. “What did you do?”

Terzo gave him a weak push, urging him away from you. “We were attacked, you ass. Leave her alone.”

“And you?”

“I’m not doing so well. Obviously.” He stumbled toward the odd arrangement in the middle of the room. Strange symbols lined the floor, etched in chalk and what looked like blood. “What the hell have you been doing in here?”

“Preparing, you ass,” Primo snapped back. “Where are the others?”

“How should I know? I thought Copia was with you. What happened to your grand plan—”

“A plan to save you—”

“Yes, and I will be eternally grateful once you stop acting like—”

“Don’t you dare,” Primo warned sharply.

Terzo sighed and rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to Primo’s project. He took a few unsteady steps, mumbling something in disbelief before dropping to his knees. You rushed to his side, but he shrugged off your attempts to help him stand. Instead, he leaned against you and stared forward, eyes fixed on the strange plant with its single white flower at the center of the altar. He began to shake, shoulders heaving as he gasped for breath.

You shouted his name, frantically trying to get him to answer you or at least say anything. His eyes were still full of life as you forced him to look away, but there was a profound sadness behind them you’d yet to see even on Terzo’s worst days. The vampire was crying. It hit you hard, a punch to the gut you didn’t expect as he collapsed against you, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Terzo? What—”

Primo knelt beside the two of you and smoothed a hand over his brother’s hair. “It will be ok, mostriciattolo. Have I ever broken a promise to you?”

He shook his head and cried harder, unable to form the words to answer as he held onto you.

“Primo, what the hell is happening?” you screamed.

He gave you a faint smile and jutted his chin toward the plant. “It’s…it’s a rare species, effectively extinct. Beautiful. Poisonous. It’s loosely related to datura—”

“Primo, I’m not a fucking botanist—”

“It grew around our home,” he interrupted, his voice flat as he stared at nothing. “When Terzo was a child, the grounds were covered in it. By the time we—it was all gone by the time he became a man. Seemingly lost forever.”

There was another untold story in the look they shared, one that spanned centuries and somehow now included you. You held Terzo, hoping to ease his pain or at least offer some form of comfort as he slowly pulled himself back together. With a hard sniff he pulled away from you, tears tracing lines through his paint.

“Mi dispiace, bellezza. I have not seen this flower in a very long time. I was not expecting to see it again—”

There was a rush of footsteps followed by a slamming door. Behind you, the other vampires began to shout as they dragged any and every object they could find toward a makeshift barricade. The door bowed under the force of something outside, a rhythmic thud against solid metal.

“I am going to tear out your eyes so you can watch me pull your head through your ass you little prick,” the Countess seethed, hurling her threats through the door. She leaned against the wall; her right hand pressed over what appeared to be a stab wound. Copia shrugged off his jacket and knelt beside her to hold it against her side.

“By all means, take your time, Primo,” Secondo barked sarcastically and braced himself against the door. “We’re not under attack or anything!”

“Stay close,” Primo muttered as he helped Terzo stand.

“Where would I even go?” Terzo sassed back, his body growing weaker with each step.

“Not you, stronzo.”

“Hardly the time for name calling—”

“Shut up!” he snapped and turned toward the altar. He began to toss various herbs and tinctures into a to-go cup he’d clearly swiped from the botanical garden’s gift shop. There was a familiar smell of ash and rust as the mixture took on the properties of Terzo’s usual antidote. A thick green-black sludge formed as Primo painstakingly stirred and cast a look over his shoulder.

“Is everyone ready?”

“Do we have a choice?” Copia shouted back, grunting as he twisted broken pieces of the door’s metal frame against itself.

“No matter what happens you must keep drinking. You understand fratellino? Do not stop for anything,” Primo warned in a low voice. With a careful hand he plucked the sole flower from the plant and crushed it between his fingers. He began to whisper something in Latin, a chant you couldn’t quite make out and wouldn’t understand even if you could. The flower began to crumble, turning to a pale dust that slowly fell between his fingers and into the cup. He cast one last look at Terzo and smiled. “To your health.”

He downed the contents and dropped to his knees, shoving his arm in Terzo’s face. “Drink.”

“Are you insane?” Terzo hissed.

Primo used the opportunity to jam his wrist against Terzo’s fangs and hold it there. “Drink.”

Whatever argument he wanted to make died in his throat as Primo’s blood spilled into his mouth. He tried to fight him, desperately clawing at his brother’s clothes, but his weakened state was no match for the older vampire. You watched in horror as your lover struggled, his eyes pleading for help. One by one the other vampires began to realize the seriousness of the situation, turning to look as Terzo slammed his feet against the floor in protest.

Whatever you’d been told, whatever parts of the plan you had all tried to understand escaped the room as glass began to shatter. The hunters were no longer trying to get through the blocked door, instead they spilled in from all sides, seeking any entrance to the solarium. The family formed a circle around Primo’s altar, protecting Primo and Terzo from the rapidly approaching violence, but there were more hunters than you could count. As predicted, they had prepared for this on a scale you didn’t think was possible.

“Primo—” You stopped short and gasped as your eyes landed on him. His face was gaunt, skin sagging away from his bones in a way that made him appear almost hollow. He was aging rapidly, withering away as each drop of life passed from his body to Terzo’s. “Oh, fuck.”

The room filled with the sound of hunters readying their weapons, each taking aim at the vampire of their choice.

Terzo finally managed to break his brother’s hold and pushed him away before doubling over. Every muscle in his body flexed and tensed as he tried to crawl away, pushing as hard as he could. With one great heave, a torrent of dark bile spilled from his lips onto the floor as his body rejected the poison. The hunters froze, many with a look of disgust on their faces as the puddle below Terzo grew.

Movement caught the corner of your eye, a blur of white so fast the humans never saw it coming. Shots rang out as the first few dropped, but Primo was too quick. Moving like an unstoppable ferocious predator, he cleared the room of anyone in his path. Secondo and Copia followed his lead, taking out as many hunters as they could while you rushed to Terzo’s side.

He was shaking, soaked in sweat and sick, but he was alive.

“Bello?”

He grinned and reached out to caress your face. “I’m here, bellezza,” he purred as you leaned into his touch. “I’m here. I will always be here.”

“How do you feel?”

His smile grew even wider, almost sinister. “I am starving.”

You smiled back. “Me too.”

Carnage was the only way you could begin to describe what was happening around you. A massacre—no—a battlefield stretched from one end of the room to the other drenched in viscera and severed limbs. Terzo and the others tore through the room, forced to finish a fight that had started centuries ago. The smell of blood and death was clinging to everything, sharpened senses now unable to ignore even the smallest drop. It overwhelmed you, drawing you into the fray as you bit into the first faceless hunter you could reach.

A few feet away, the Countess gave you a thumbs-up with the severed arm of one of her victims.

-x-

The cottage was unnaturally quiet. As quickly as they arrived, the other vampires had disbanded and headed their separate ways, leaving a cluttered and messy house in their wake. You weren’t sure what was going to happen next. You weren’t sure anyone did.

Primo had nearly died trying to save Terzo. That much was clear from the last time anyone had seen him, but his brothers were quick to assure you that Primo could and would take care of himself. For now, you had to let that be enough, but it felt wrong to leave your friend’s home in such a state.

Especially after everything he had done for you.

You went through each room, picking up whatever you could and putting things back together the way Primo normally kept them. There wasn’t much time, but you sensed Terzo understood this was something you needed. He simply kissed your cheek and left to pack up whatever belongings the two of you had accumulated in that little room.

The kitchen wasn’t a complete disaster, but the least you could do was rinse the handful of old coffee mugs resting in the sink. You washed them carefully though the years and dishwasher cycles had been less than kind to any images they once held. You always assumed you would have time to find out what it was about tourist traps that fascinated Primo, but now you weren’t sure how long you’d have to wait.

It wasn’t until you’d put the last mug away that you noticed the letters. Three envelopes had been left on the table, each the same red as Primo’s scuffed slippers. Each addressed carefully in an elaborate script. Terzo. Draculina. Diavolina.

“Hey Terzo?” You called out, a nervous shake to your voice.

He appeared in a blink, bags in hand as he quickly scanned the room for threats.

“Everything’s ok. It’s just…Primo…he left letters.”

“Ah,” Terzo grunted and dropped the suitcases in favor of clutching his chest. “Thank Satanas. I am too full to eat anyone else today. What does the letter say?”

You shrugged and handed him the one with his name before tearing into your own. There wasn’t much, a simple short note expressing a few wishes written in the most impressive penmanship you’d ever seen. “He says not to look for him—”

“Typical.”

“And that he wants to leave the cottage to his friend.”

Terzo made a face. “He has a friend?”

“You missed so much while you were half-dead, huh?” you teased before reading through the letter one more time. “Hey, what’s Villa Majesty?”

“Eh,” he started and sighed heavily, avoiding your eyes. “I don’t think you will like my answer.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It’s a castle…my castle.”

“Your…what? Like a castle, castle?”

“Sì, it is the smaller one.” He offered with a cheeky grin. “But I think you’ll like it there.”

You groaned. “How many houses do you have?”

He shrugged. “You have plenty of time to find out.”

-x-

“Ah, ah, bellezza,” Terzo purred and brushed your hair away from your neck. He placed a kiss on the newly exposed skin before whispering into your ear. “Slowly, my love.”

You resisted the urge to shrug him off and followed his instructions, drawing long, slow pulls from the vampire hunter’s neck. No one ever tasted as good as Terzo, but he was determined to teach you how to make the most of every kill. Though he couldn’t bake to save his life, so far he had been right about fear and desire tasting better than anger.

You suspected he just got off on watching you feed—not that you minded. Your relationship had started covered in blood after all.

The mattress creaked as Terzo pressed even closer, lips returning to your neck. It had only been a month since you arrived at Villa Majesty—a month-long whirlwind honeymoon phase filled with moments like this and various other “vampire lessons” that were thinly veiled excuses for him to get his hands (or lips) on you. But it was easy to let him try to charm you all over again even if he had already won your heart.

“Like this?” you asked, leaning into him as the hunter’s pulse began to stutter. It was pure luck that you’d found this one, or maybe just stupidity on their part. The village below was small and picturesque enough to attract a few tourists, but it was easy enough to spot someone behaving the way you used to. Feeding on humans can with its own set of morality issues, but when it came to anyone who would take down you or your new family without a second thought the decision was much easier.

Terzo hummed against your skin, his hands reaching around you to free the hunter from your grip. You let out a small yelp as he seized you and pulled your further onto the ridiculous bed, your snack and lessons now forgotten. Much like Meliora House, Villa Majesty was also decorated like a fucking wedding cake, but your lover made up for his eccentric taste in furniture by fucking you senseless on any and every surface he could and making post-coital promises about any remodeling the entire place if you wanted.

Honestly, there were worse things than being wrapped in lavender frills and ruffles while being spoiled by an immortal billionaire.

You pawed at his shirt, grabbing fistfuls of the near-transparent fabric between your fingers as you readied yourself to rip it from his body.

“Nooo,” he whined. “Not this one, per favore. I look too good in this.”

“But you look better out of it.”

“Bah! Impossible, bellezza,” he huffed and rose up on his knees to pose. “Look at me!”

“Oh, I am,” you assured him. You pushed yourself up and let your eyes trail over his form slowly, appreciating every inch. It was growing more faint over time, but you reached up and pressed your fingers to the scar on his chest with a small sigh. “Remind me why we even bother to get dressed again?”

It was his turn to sigh. “Omega and Alpha’s rules.”

“Ah, yes the demonic bodyguards who were tired of seeing your cock.”

His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward and took your wrists in his hands. In one quick motion he pinned you to the bed and hovered over you. “No one has ever tired of my cock, bellezza.”

“Hmm, it is quite nice. Is that why you showed it to me the second I walked into your house?”

“If it works, it works.”

“Terzo?”

“Amore?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said with a grin and bent down to kiss you. “Ugh, ok, ok, you can tear it off me—just this once.”

He released your hands and sat back to allow you better access. He was right he did look good like this, but his cock was tenting in his pants and straining against the fabric and that was a look you preferred to any other. You ran your hands over his chest and began the delicate task of carefully slipping each of the buttons free. He groaned at the pace of your work, breath hitching any time you touched the slightest bit of skin. Teasing Terzo had become a favorite pastime of yours over the last few weeks, watching him barely maintain his composure as you found the balance between your heightened senses and his own. He could easily overpower you if he wanted and some days it was more fun to encourage that, but with your appetite sated all you could think about was having him take you slowly.

“Terzo?” You asked as you pushed open his shirt to press a kiss against his stomach. “Make love to me?”

“Every single day for eternity, amore,” he promised with a sly smile. He shook the gauzy shirt from his shoulders and cast it aside, no longer caring about its price tag or the way he looked in it. He eased you onto your back and pushed your knees apart, leveling his face with your sex and the stupidly expensive, but admittedly sexy panties he’d procured for your new wardrobe.

He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and slowly slid them down your legs before stuffing them in the pocket of his tightening pants. He wasted no time burying his face in your cunt and letting his tongue dance a dizzying rhythm across your sensitive nerves. With a firm grip on his hair, you encouraged and praised him letting the man you loved completely take you apart. He held you down with one hand and used the other to tease and slide his fingers into your entrance, working to coax an orgasm out of you.

As you teetered on the edge of intense pleasure, he bit into the inside of your thigh and moaned loudly. At the same time you let go, your body tensing around his fingers as he drank from you. If it wasn’t for how painfully hard he must have been, you thought he could stay there for the rest of his life. Instead, he pushed your knees to your chest and kicked his pants across the room. He pressed into you slowly, eyes closed as he bit his own lip bloody.

“Bellezza, do you see what you do to me?”

You raised your head and watched your bodies connect, sighing with relief as he filled you. “Fuck,” you whispered, hands already grasping at the sheets. “Do you see what you do to me?”

When he was fully seated inside you, he stilled his hips and bent down to press a kiss to your forehead, letting you keen beneath him. Your revenge came as you nipped his throat and let out a particularly lascivious moan as his blood dripped onto your tongue.

“No fair, bella. Do you want me to make love to you or do you want me to fuck you?”

“Both,” you replied with a grin and raised your hips. “They can be the same thing. Especially when you taste this good.”

“Temptress,” he purred and began a torturous rhythm with his hips.

“Vampire,” you shot back, meeting each thrust.

He growled and bit into your neck, drinking from you as his pace picked up. The vibration of his low moans melted into your own, rattling through your chest as you neared your release. He was so loud, alternating between fucking and drinking and moaning while the bed shifted beneath you. You loved him like this, loved to see him so desperately in love with you that he almost couldn’t stand it. You told him so as he pounded into you with a ferocity that drew sounds from your throat Omega would probably leave a note about later.

Terzo’s fingers found their way back to your center as he pulled off your neck and leaned up to watch you come undone. And you did, your bliss hitting you hard in intense waves that washed over you. No one had ever fucked you like he could; no one had ever loved you as he did. No one else ever would.

He cried out, stilling his hips as he reached his own end and spilled inside you. He gasped for air, burying his face in your neck as he came down. The two of you lay like that for a while, twisted up and consumed by your love for each other.

A soft knock broke the silence of the bedroom. Terzo offered you a lazy smile and rolled off the bed, taking the sheet with him. He tucked it around his waist before opening the door a crack to reveal a slightly nervous Omega.

“Uh…sorry to disturb you…but you told me— “

Terzo threw open the door. “Is it here?”

Omega yelped and covered his eyes with his hand. He shoved a small package toward Terzo with the other hand before running down the hallway while shouting, “boundaries people!”

Terzo just shrugged and closed the door. You rolled onto your stomach to watch him rip into the cardboard box, curious to see what was so important it disturbed such a soft moment. The vampire smiled brightly as he walked toward you.

“You have no idea how hard this was to find, bellezza.”

You furrowed your brow. “What is it?”

He winked and handed you the box. Packed neatly and carefully inside was the same vintage hockey sweater you’d once owned, your favorite team’s colors still pristine and bright. Another smaller velvet box sat in the middle of their emblem. You blinked up at him, but he just shrugged and gestured for you to open that one as well.

The next time your eyes met he was on one knee, still wrapped in the sheet.

“Is this why you didn’t want me to rip your shirt?”

“I was trying to create a moment, bellezza.”

You slid off the bed and walked over to him, gently caressing his face. “I think you proposing naked is still a moment, bello. Better than your silly movies.”

He smiled softly. “Will you marry me, amore mio?”

“Yes,” you replied with a nod, tears filling your eyes. “Of course I will, you idiot.”

Thank you to everyone who waited patiently and cheered me on while I tried to complete this story. Your comments kept me going through some really tough times and I can't thank you enough.

I'd like to thank @ramblingoak for holding my hand for the past YEAR and being just the best fucking friend through everything. Suck Club would not exist without you. Thank you. 💜

here's more stuff from me // my ko-fi info

[yourstrqly]

hi i saw your request are open and i wanted to know if you could write where clement novalak (f2 driver) gives his partner a necklace?

★ . . . 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐊, 𝐂𝐍𝟐𝟏

pairing: clement novalak x reader (no pronouns used)

in which he gifts you a dainty silver necklace with his initials when he comes over to your place

the early hour of the evening settled upon you as the wind outside grew colder and the sun didn't show an arm anymore, leaving the sky darker and dull behind your closed curtains of your small living room.

On your lap rested a bowl of a day old rice mixed with tofu and some vegetables you had found in your freezer, that you decided to spice up with a splash of a sauce you've got in the pantry — it was a quick meal, everything thrown in the pan and boom, your food was ready to eat after only a five minute expenditure. It also hit the spot, and the half-full box of cookies your french boyfriend sent to your house yesterday after you had ranted on the phone how the day in the office had been utter shit and you really craved something sweet, paired rather well with the tea as a desert on this boring night.

some friends of yours went out in a club but that wasn't for you, when you knew, you had to show up the next day at work — you didn't want to wake up with a massive headache, too, if you were being honest, so a chill night at home it was.

sitting on the sofa between lots of pillows and a plush blanket thrown over your lap, you pushed the ceramic bowl back on the table and grabbed the remote to change the series; you decided, you weren't in the mood for the british bake off and searched for the percy jackson series to rewatch.

watching annabeth, percy and grover ensembling the given task by the oracle, you re-visited the time where you still were the same age, dreaming of fighting the furies and other strange greek myths monsters alongside the trio, falling in love with the handsome apollo kid luke and forming a friendship with clarisse, a child of the god of war. now you were years older than them, sitting in your shoe box sized apartment, mentally drained because of work and half asleep as you took a bit of the slightly stale cookie.

the door rang, breaking your tales of being a halfgod up. a sign escaped your throat as your eyes flitted to the clock on your wall; it was nine pm and you wondered who wanted to grace his or her presence at your door at that time of the day. you weren't in the mood for a visitor and prayed for a lost delivery man.

feet tapped against the wooden floor, reaching the door. you pulled the doorknob open, eyes roaming the body of the man who kneeled down and fumbled with his bag.

"can i help you?", you grumbled, irritation laced your voice.

the man's head turned upwards, a grin widely presented on his lips as his dreamy brown eyes looked into yours; you mirrored his smile, happy to see clem.

"hey treasure, rough day, eh?", he asked, standing up to pull you in a much needed hug. clem's body radiated warmth and his woody vanilla scent brought you immense comfort. he felt you nod on his shoulder, face mushed in the crook between his left shoulder and strong neck.

the french didn't let you go as you went back inside, foot pushing the door close behind you and you went deeper in your apartment till he turned you both around and he fell backwards first on the sofa. "Want to talk about it?"

"no", you mumbled, a purr rumbling in your throat while clem's fingers messaged your scalp. "'m happy you're here, clemy."

you laid there, relaxing against him, only hearing the soft noises of the tv diddling in the background as your boyfriends hand cradled your head, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips. soft butterfly kisses followed, none filled with nothing but romance and peace; your right hand found its place at the nape of his neck, tugging his hair to hear a sweet moan of his, one you loved to hear whenever you slowly made out — the pair of you knew that tonight's kissing and touching wouldn't result in sex but nonetheless you enjoyed to dance to the edge.

abruptly, clement stopped the kiss, caressing your warm cheek with his thumb. then he dipped his finger between your lips, feeling the wetness of your mouth and a groan left his throat. his eyes were hyperfocused on your tongue, which glided along his thick thumb, sucking and nibbling playfully on it.

with his free hand, he pulled something out a pocket of his trousers, fiddling with it as his brown doe eyes watched yours; a blush coated his cheeks at the lustfilled gaze of yours and he felt his trousers tightened.

gently, he pulled his thumb out of your mouth and rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. "i love you."

you hummed, repeating his words, basking in the moment of being loved and in love. then, you felt coldness running around your throat and clem's palm laying on top of it — it was dainty, another necklace he got you.

"open your eyes, treasure," the french man whispered, resulting you to do so.

fiddling with the dainty silver band of the necklace, your fingertips stop at the pendant, two small curved letters 'cn' as well as the number 21, clems racing number. it was beautiful and unpretentious, going along prettily with the rest of your jewellery, mostly your boyfriend brought for you.

"Oh clemy, i love it", you mumbled, kissing the cold pendant before looking up at your bearded boyfriend, giving him a big smooch. "merci beaucoup."

"Tout pour toi. Si je te donnais les étoiles, tu les aurais entre tes mains, treasure."

= everything for you. if I could give you the stars, you'd have them in your hands.

CLEMY IS THE LOML GUYS !!!

[carajilloplz]

i. cowboy like me ₊˚⊹⋆ billy the kid

warnings: none really lol, just 1870s bs and low-key flirting

The lace fan in your hand and the spring breeze did little to soothe the flush caused by the early afternoon sunshine, making a light blush crawl up to your cheeks and small beads of sweat pool at the nape of your neck. It was pleasant to be out on the terrace of your friend’s townhouse, basking in the pleasure of not having to fuss over much before the season starts, but the imminent peril of your debut kept your mind elsewhere from the untouched tea and pastries laid out before you.

“Ada, do you suppose your brother’s guest will be handsome?” mused Josie, slumped over her chair turning to look at Ada

“Josie! Hush, don’t say things like that, I’d never be interested in someone who’s my brother’s age.”

“I’m just saying that if he’s going to be staying in your house, eating your food, and disturbing your peace he might as well be nice-looking”

“Perhaps Josie has a point, Ada.” you reasoned “Do you really know who this man is?”

“I barely just learned this morning that my brother’s coming back to New York, give me a break girls.”

“What I do know is that his friend’s a cowboy at his father’s ranch in colorado and that he’s looking for a change of scenery for a while, so my brother’s bringing him up here.”

A cowboy? You’d seen what they’re like on your trips to Texas— rough, rugged, almost uncouth, but there was something that intrigued you about a man that could ride in the ranges all day and never get tired of the landscape’s expanse. You saw a bit of yourself in that. A cowboy’s the furthest you’d expect to have in new york, especially attending the events of the social season.

“Just cross your fingers it doesn’t turn into a shitshow, Ada”

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The rattle of the carriage’s wheels on the cobblestone streets did nothing to help the unease in Billy’s stomach as they headed to Ash’s house in a side of New York drastically unlike the one he used to be familiar with. Is this really a good idea?

"Billy, while the people here can be greay gossips, they probably won’t think too deeply. As long as you keep a low profile and not cause any trouble, you should be fine. In due time you can return south," reassured Ash

“I couldn’t be more grateful Ash, really. It’s just going to be real hard to lie about everything.”

The carriage came to a sudden stop infront of a tall brownstone that matched all the ones next to it, creating a cookie-cutter row of houses that ran down the street until the eye could see. Finely dressed people walked down the sidewalks, conversing or walking their dogs, seeing and being seen under the spring sun. Billy stepped out of the carriage with Ash, giving a grateful nod to the driver and going up the steps behind his host. The door was opened by a maid inside, who greeted Ash with a smile, and as he and Billy walked in there was a rumble heard on the stairs as three young girls stormed down and an older woman walked behind them.

“Ash!” exclaimed one of the girls, her face lighting up as she rushed to greet him, followed by the older woman billy assumed was his mother. The other two girls stayed on the staircase, offering ash a polite greeting and peering curiously at Billy. You particularly, wearing a soft cornflower blue dress with your hair pinned up caught his eye, but he knew it was rude to stare so he quickly bright his gaze back to his host.

“Everyone, this is my friend William Henry from Colorado. Billy this is my mother Helena, my sister Ada and her friends”

“Pleasure to meet you ladies, and thank you Mrs. Upson for allowin’ me to stay in your house for some time. I hope it’s not too much of a bother.” As he said this, Billy finally had the chance to take a look at you, his stomach flipping but now for a good reason. His gaze lingered momentarily, trying to piece together the intrigue you caused -- you were beautiful, undoubtedly so but there was lightness and grace about you that captivated him. You smiled softly and nodded as a greeting, and he couldn’t help but notice the lightly flustered blush of your cheeks or the small hairs fallen from your updo that framed your face and neck.

Mrs. Upson snapped him back to reality. “It is absolutely no trouble, Mr. Henry. Hattie will see to your belongings, but for now you can join the girls and I for tea if you’d like.”

Everybody moved to the terrace once more, Ash being whisked away by Ada to catch up, leaving Billy to sit with Mrs Upson, Josephine, and you.

When Billy had stepped through the front door of the Upson’s house, your breath left you for a moment. He was very much a cowboy, slightly rugged and stoic but a gentle demeanor about the way he carried himself that brought your breath back to your lungs. He towered over you just the right amount and his shoulders, which he carried with a humble confidence, were (weirdly) attractively wide. Josie was also right about something— Ash’s guest was absolutely handsome.

“So your father is a rancher, Billy?” Asks Josephine, sitting next to you and nudging you slightly, making you pay attention to the cowboy sitting before you. Josie’s bluntness made you blush, elbowing her and shooting her a warning glance. “I apologize, if you don’t mind us calling you Billy.”

“I don’t mind that at all, I quite prefer it actually.” He swallowed before continuing, a strain in his face that piqued your curiosity. “And yes, my father owns a few ranches along the Arkansas river.”

“How wonderful, must be a beautiful sight.” you mention absentmindedly, picturing the mountains and the rolling hills that you imagine as his home. A small smile breaking his face snaps you back into the moment and it makes your stomach warm and cracks a smile out of you too.

“It is, really. Y’all should visit sometime, it’s beautiful around this time of year.”

“That’s quite a nice idea, William we would love to see your father’s ranches.” remarked Mrs. Upson, “I know you must be tired from your travels, but will you be joining us at the soiree tonight?”

“I’d love to Mrs Upson, what’s the occasion?”

“The girl’s debut this season! It’s just something small with some family friends before the ball tomorrow.”

Billy was visibly confused, “Debut?”

“It’s a ball where the girls get paraded around in white dresses like cattle so they can get married off” interjects Ash, joining them. “Frankly it’s degrading, but it’s tradition.”

Your stomach churned. Degrading is the perfect word to describe it. You were not looking forward to the next few months of insipid suitors and the prospect of a proposal. It’s not like you were completely opposed to a proposal, but this culling process was not the way you wanted to approach it. Yet, as Ash said, it’s tradition.

“Sounds…grueling” Billy admits.

“Absolutely. The balls are quite fun though.” says Josie.

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Later that night, the Upson household was bustling with people laughing, drinks pouring, and conversation buzzing with excitement about the upcoming season. Poor billy looked like a fish out of water, dressed in one of Ash’s suits that he was visibly unnaccustomed to using. You looked at the interactions from afar, Billy charming but clearly feeling uncomfortable, as you could see with the tension in his sharp jaw. Josie, a little bit tipsy, comes up to you and leans in with a giggle.

“Have you noticed he’s been staring at you all night?” she whispers.

A blush creeps onto your cheeks and you try to hold back a smile “And what would make you say such a wild thing, josie? Is it the champagne?”

Josie placed her hand on her chest in fake offense “Gah! You offend me darling”

“What’d she do now, Jo?” Ada, also a few drinks in accuses cheekily.

“She doesn’t believe that she is the most stunning girl in the room and that Mr Cowboy here has been stealing a few glances.”

“Oh Josie is right, you’ve been the only one he’s looked at.”

You noticed that he had excused himself from the conversation across the room and headed to the drinks table where the three of you were located, a soft smile greeting you and making your heart flutter. You realized then and there that it was impossible to get tired of his deep, kind blue eyes.

“How’s the night treating you, Billy?” asks Josie. Billy lets out a small laugh and glances at you and Ada.

“She needs to start findin’ her way home don’t she?”

Josie scowls, and you and Ada are laughing at your friend’s cheeky behavior “Gosh, you’re no fun! I’m just getting started, Billy boy.”

“Oh she is, Billy. She always has a few too many glasses of champagne but she’s great fun” you say with a smile. You both meet eyes for a moment and you drop it after a second, a bashful blush painting your cheeks.

“All three of y’all seem like great fun, champagne or not. I’m lookin’ forward to my stay here.” he admits. Billy gives you a smile too, picking the eye contact back up and going to say something before Ada interrupts.

“We should cheers to that then!” she says, serving each one a glass of champagne and handing it to them. “To Billy’s fruitful stay in New York!”

You all clink your glasses together and you down yours mostly in a few sips.

“Josie, you should go play some music!” squeals Ada, grabbing Josie, who is also downing her glass and pulls her towards the piano at the other side of the room.

You and billy share a laugh at the antics of your friends, and you go to serve some more champagne for the two of you. The bubbly buzz of the champagne was getting to your head a little and you faltered a few drops onto your dress.

As you served some into Billy’s glass, you couldn’t stop yourself from commenting—“Your accent slips out a little more when you’re drinkin’ Billy.” you noticed. It was cute though, your time in Texas had made you fond of a southern drawl.

“Does it really? You’ve kinda got one too.” he points out with a laugh, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes.

“Do I? It’s probably the champagne, I apologize.” you laugh, a light smile covered by a laced hand spreads on your face and you look up at him. “I haven’t been down south in forever, I thought it’d gone away”

“You’ve been?” he asks furrowing his brow in question and developing a curious smile. He quickly dismissed the thought of how much he loved the way your eyes looked from below him. “Didn’t take you for a southern girl.”

You let out a shy laugh and looked down, “I am, grew up in Texas and moved here with my mother and sister when I was eleven. My father’s still down there. He’s got an oil field in the Panhandle and takes care of a few ranches in the prairie near Dallas.”

Billy nodded, slightly surprised but still, extremely curious and amused by your personal history. He’d wondered whether he’d seen the same prairies as you had growing up, fallen in love with the same nature.

“Well darlin’ I’m quite surprised,” his stomach churned at his lie— “My father’s ranches run along Colorado but I’ve been to Texas quite a few times and I can’t wait to go back.”

“Me neither,” you confess, staring wistfully at your cup. “My father comes up every once in a while but I haven’t been since I was fifteen.”

“I’d happily take you in as a guest if it’ll take that downhearted look off your face.” he said softly, taking your chin in his hand and bringing you to look at him with the most tender gesture, giving you the most comforting smile. All of this made your heart flip and your chest tighten the lightest bit in fear. You’d had one or two callers before that had caught your heart, but whatever Billy did to you was different. Speaking to him felt familiar and the slightly calloused feel of his hand on you was a commiserative connection back to the wild girl you had once been. Being in New York tamed you, but he had a look that took you right back home.

You couldn’t. With a polite smile, you leaned out of his touch after a few moments and tried to will the blush off your cheeks.

“I’d much like that Mr. Henry, I appreciate the invitation.” He nonned curtly in response, a little confused at your sudden distance. “I should catch up with my friends. Enjoy your evening.”

You walked away, your heart almost beating out of your ribcage as you made a beeline to your friends. Looking around discreetly to see if anyone had noticed your interaction with billy, you caught the curious eye of your sister and her fiance, giving them a dismissive stare and catching up to josie and ada, who were sitting at the piano.

The rest of the night you stuck to your friends, the drinks pouring and the conversation flowing through the bustle of people in the salon. As you stepped through the balcony doors to take a breath, remembering the feeling of billy’s touch and the way he made you feel, your sister followed you through. It was pathetic how he had affected you so much with a single touch.

Your sister, accompanied by her fiance Theo, stared at you teasingly.

“And what was that with Ash's friend?” She asks, “I know you have a thing for cowboys.”

With a rush of blood to your face once more, you dismissed her with a gesture of your hand.

“Stop it Clemmie, you know that stupid crush was forever ago, and there is nothing going on with Mr. Henry.”

“He looks awfully familiar, somehow.” Theo comments. “Feels like I’ve seen him before”

“Theo, my love, you know I adore you but just because we went back home last summer doesn’t mean you know everyone in the South.” Your sister says, giving her fiance a teasing tap on his cheek. “Well, from what i’ve heard through the grapevine he is truly an uncut gem so I say go for it”

You blush, impossibly even more, at her comment. “Shut it Clemmie, my debut is tomorrow and I cannot have you putting stupid things in my head.”

“But he’s quite darling isn’t he?”

Hesitating, you sighed, staring wistfully at the man inside, speaking with Ash and somehow stirring your heart from afar, “I won’t deny that.”

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a/n: HEY GUYS WELCOME so happy to be putting this out omg i've been working on this for forever i hope you enjoy :) part 2 is in the works but in the meantime if you have any ideas for any tom characters lmk jijiji i am very much taking requests (and look at my masterlist so you can see who else i write for !!)