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mysunshinetemptress · 2 months

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Patience

Alexia putellas x equestrian!reader

Warnings:rushed shitty writing, not proofread

“Vamos!” You shout arms outstretched above your head in relief and excitement as you watch the Spanish girls dance around the pitch hugging one another and thanking their Japanese opponents, your mamí wraps her arms around you tightly pulling you into a hug “Oh, Potro, eso fue increíble” You let out a small laugh hugging her tighter “Conozco a Mamí y esto es solo el principio, VAMOS ESPAÑA”

You smile watching the team happily talk to each other about the match that has just taken place before deciding to call it a night, you had one final training session before you would have to take part in the first round of the eventing on the 27th.

Your least favourite event was dressage, you hated how meticulous it was how precise, everything had to be on point, one wrong stride and you would be falling down the table, the bid for a medal slipping further away. But dressage was like a dance, a dance where your dance partner is your horse Once fuertes, you lead and he follows in time to the music.

When it’s over and you see your name sitting in first place and you don’t seem to dislike it as much, you are happy with your dance partner, with the precision of his hooves through the sand his strides perfect, of course it is you who cause the fault only a slight one but still you have raked up 16.00 penalty points.

1.5 penalty points less than your closest opponent but it’s not enough.

“Lo siento, mamá, debería haber sido mejor” you fall into your mothers arms “Potro, it was perfect, parada being so hard on yourself, tienes razón donde necesitas ser un potro, llegarás allí, solo espera.” All you can do is let out a grunt as you push off her and turn to follow your grooming team.

You don’t get a day to relax, to process your recent accomplishments instead your sitting on Once fuertes in a forest in Versailles getting ready to take part in the cross country trail for both Spain and yourself just like yesterday.

Only today is not a dance, today is a race against a nine point two minute clock and twenty eight fences/obstacles in the way. Once fuertes is big at 17.5 hands these obstacles will be nothing for him the time trial a minuscule thought for such a long strided horse like him, but it’s up to you to get him there.

You do so perfectly, you trust in him to leap over every obstacle and land ready to race towards the next and he does it without hesitation yet you don’t stop talking to him pushing him forward edging him to go faster to jump higher and it pays off. You hold your lead. You’re still number one, still in position for gold. Your first gold.

Your happier this time around, your mother can tell just from the way your hunched over Once talking to him happily “ Oh, mi chico, eres increíble, eres perfecto, podríamos hacer esto, yo y tú, once, yo y podrías ganarlo todo, oh, ese es mi sueño para ti y para mí.” Your mother pats Once happily “Bien hecho once, gracias por cuidar de mi potro” you beam down at your mother before swinging your leg over and jumping down from the thoroughbred laughing happily as your mamí pulls you in for another bone crushing hug “Dios mío, mamá I think we might actually have a chance, we might actually place on the podium me and Spain, me and Once.” Tears spring to your mothers eyes, happy tears at your growing excitement, at your accomplishments so far “I don’t think you’ll just place Potro, you will win it all, you and España and Once, you will win the gold.” You shake your head not wanting to get your hopes up just yet “Paciencia, es todo lo que tengo en este deporte.” Your mother squeezed your arms before letting you stand back as you got ready to follow your groomers again “you sound just like your Papá.”

It’s not over, far from it, you still have the eventing show jumping tomorrow, the team final and the individual qualifiers but tonight you can relax, tonight you get to watch La Rojas face off against Nigeria, tonight you get to focus back on a different race for a podium and your happy to get to switch off even just for an hour.

You sit happily in the Olympic village with your team around a table as you watch the girls battle it out, fighting for a point that never seems to come. “Uhh, no van a anotar, quiero decir, vamos, quedan diez minutos.” Your teammate Carlos shakes his head, you simply smile and shake your head “Paciencia Carlos, they will strike when they are good and ready. She will strike when she is good and ready.” The team laugh at your faith in the Spanish girls, your faith in your favourite player La Reina herself, but it is you who is laughing five minutes later when Alexia scores the only goal of the match “Mira, te lo dije, when she is good and ready.”

You look out at the castle the next morning getting ready to walk the course with your teammates insuring you know your route, your strides, when to push Once on more with your leg and when to let off, to losen the reins, this is it, you could win your first gold medal today with Spain, your first gold medal as an individual, you just have to be patient.

You must qualify in the top twenty five to reach the individual qualifiers, you must be in the top twenty five to win, you have to jump a clear round all while staying within the eighty second time period. Once has to stay calm, so you have to stay calm, Once must keep his strides precise, he can’t over stretch, he might knock a pole if he does, he might knock more than one and the penalties you have been working so hard to keep down could wrack up suddenly, but again your against the clock a time trial, you have to do this fast, he has to do this fast, you both have to do this fast and clean together, it’s the only way you will keep your spot.

And you do. You jump last for Spain, you jump clear for Spain, for your self, to qualify for the individual medal, not a single pole rocked within the cups and you stayed five seconds under the time limit, for Spain, for you and Once, you were perfect, he was perfect, now it’s a waiting game as the last five jumpers get ready to try and knock Spain off the gold position.

None of your other teammates scores are as perfect as yours but they aren’t the worst, not even middle, they are comfortably in the top twenty and so you stand in the stands to watch the final rider with bated breath.

Great Britain sit second, France sit third and with Tom McEwans for Great Britain four faults in his round he seals the deal on all three podium spots, you have done it, you’ve won a gold medal, Spain have won a gold medal, Once has won you both a gold medal and now you have to refocus to win your individual one.

Your jumping last out of the twenty five riders, you sit in first and you can’t do anything except watch how the riders ahead of you take this new course, their turns, their leg sheathed it’s on or off, how their horses react, you watch the screen as the names move up and down below the top four, the top four, four faults sit between you all, four faults is all it will take for you to drop off the podium altogether, for this to be all for nothing and as your time comes closer it seems to be the only thing swimming around your head.

But it clears, it clears as you swing your leg over Once and as your mamí squeezes your leg before turning to the thoroughbred “Enciérdala por mí, cuida a mi pequeño potro.”

Sixty seconds till your gold medal, sixty seconds till you hold a gold medal, till you and Once become Olympic champions sixty seconds and a clear round.

You don’t remember the course, you don’t remember starting the course, but the roar as Once touches the ground on the far side of the final fence, clear, two seconds under the time giving, clear, clear, he jumped clear, you jumped clear both of you together jumped clear, your an Olympic champion, Once is an Olympic champion, Spain are Olympic champions and all you can do is look towards the sky and shout.

You arrive back to the village beaming, two gold medals around your neck, a team and an individual, you won’t have time to celebrate it, not yet, the games aren’t over but for now you beam and let out quite thanks you’d as athletes pass you in the village congratulating you as they pass.

You freeze as a certain athlete stands in front of you “Guau, hace tres días y ya tienes dos medallas de oro, debes ser bueno.” Your frozen unable speak, unable to think, unable to breath. She’s gorgeous, she’s breathtaking and she’s standing right in front of you. “No, No not really.” She smiles holding out her hand to you “I’m Alexia.” You look at her hand before taking it gently, scared your hand might pass through hers “I-I am Y/n.” Alexia beams happily holding your hand for far longer than she expected but she thinks you’re gorgeous, that you’re breathtaking and so she doesn’t mind “I was going to get a go coffee, would you like to join me.” You nod before finding your words “Sí, me encantaría.”

You let out a laugh as Alexia tells you of her younger sister Alba stating that the only role she wanted in the Olympics was that of a WAG or singing in the opening ceremony.

You sit happily listening to her talk about her family, talks about them like you have known her and them forever, you want to ask about her father but decide that if she isn’t happy mentioning him to you, a complete stranger she met mere hours ago then you weren’t going to ask.

“I am here for Fútbol.” You nodded “Sí, I-I am a fan.” Alexia doesn’t react like you thought she would, her smile seems to grow “a fan, of Spain?, of Barcelona?, of me?.” You laugh “De todos ustedes, de España, de Barcelona de ustedes, la Reina- I have been in love with fútbol my entire life, I have been a culers my entire life, and I have been a fan of you since you started playing.” Alexia lets out a sigh, a content sigh. “That is good, because I don’t think I could give my phone number to a Real Madrid supporter.” You laugh again this time sliding your phone over to the older girl.

Alexia watch’s you as she types in her number, adding emojis to her name. “So you never told me what sport you’re so great at that you won both of your medals for.” You blush as the conversation turns to you, you were quite content listening to Alexia talk and now she had switched to you. “Ecuestre, this one is from the team eventing so Yo y otros tres ciclistas ganamos este.” You hold out your team gold medal for Alexia to inspect “Y entonces this one is my individual medal, but really I couldn’t have done it without Once.” You hold out your individual medal as Alexia’s eyebrows raise “what is your horses name.” You smile “Once fuertes” Alexia nods approving “eleven is a strong number alright.” You let out a giggle taking back your medals “so what does Once get.” You go to take your phone out to show her pictures of the thoroughbred “he gets a rosette, and carrots, lots of carrots.” Alexia let’s out a small oh “well that’s not fair.” You pause as you go to hand over your phone “what do you mean.” Alexia shrugs “well your job is easy, the horse does all the work, so shouldn’t he get a better prize.” You feel your face heat up and turn bright red from embarrassment, as you smile sheepishly putting your phone back in your pocket, you push your chair to get up from the table and Alexia can tell she’s said the wrong thing “Y/n.” You ignore her as you stand “Good luck for the rest of the games.” You leave immediately as Alexia shakes her head “Joder.”

Alexia tried texting you but your not answering and so she decides to see if you have any social media, with a quick google of your name Alexia feels her guilt increase ten fold “Y/n Ferré Balagueró dedicates her Olympic wins to her father.” “MIERDA”

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theastrical · 5 months

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Honeymoon with genshin men

honeymoon with genshin men! (their choices of destination, where do you guys stay at, and their action to showcase their love for you)

kaeya, diluc, zhongli, childe, alhaitham x reader

Kaeya’s Nobel Honeymoon

His plan is to make you feel like a royalty, as if you guys are indeed a heir to the crown or maybe the one holding the highest rank in the country. Well you two can only imagine right?

He bought a whole suite for you guys to stay in Airelles (Château De Versailles), France. The suite is called Suite Necker, It’s a beautiful suite, a magnificent one. The view is also wonderful, especially in spring.

He bought the suite for 4 nights, while he also makes sure both of you can have some fun times by participating in the palace tour or the dance in the royal ball.

Helps you whenever you need to fix your clothes, he also manage to fix any clothes malfunction, just incase it would embarrass you, he would fix it without you knowing; act of service is his passion.

Will take you out to some local choices restaurants, he pick the best one, not the one that are meant for tourist. He wants you to have the best food without thinking about the money you both spend over some tourist trap. (While eating, he would always prepare you and your food first, his? Later would be alright. He doesn’t eat his food when you haven’t start eating it)

Would photographed you across the city, the suites, the palace and everywhere you go. His excuse? “I just need to commemorate some beautiful things in here..”

Will buy some souvenirs you’re looking at, especially when you decide not to buy it. He would buy 3 kinds of it and pretend to also like it. Shows it to you (as a surprise) after you both get home from the honeymoon.

Diluc’s cottage dream

He rent a luxurious chalet, the name is chalet melilot. It’s Specifically placed near the mountainside of switzerland so you both can have morning stroll everyday in your honeymoon. Wants to be intact with mother nature since he thought it’ll be more private and sensational.

Thought it’ll be great if you guys also do some surveys around the country for housing if you both enjoyed the country environment.

He would hire a local chef to make you both three course meal for lunch and dinner, it’s all Switzerland’s traditional specialties. Specifically made using organic products and original recipe. He wants you to taste the best healthy and tasty meal, while savouring every each bite.

Every day when you guys walk around the mountain and feel even the slightest bit of cold, he would let you use his jacket, the scent is like firewood, so much like diluc.

At night, he would take you out to the city and even take shots of you using his polaroid. Every pictures he take is meant to be inside his small album of you and him (which he would present it, at the end of the joirney), he would pick the best pictures for his wallet. He seem to have everything in remembrance of you.

At the end of the honeymoon, he surprised you with a dog…a samoyed. It’s a cute thought, also an attentive one. “i know i wouldn’t always be at home and i’m sorry, this honeymoon make me realise that giving you my best is my priority and i will do so by giving you an accompany…this samoyed of our will be our forever accompany in this marriage okay…?”

Childe’s new home

Ajax didn’t like those romantic and sensational types diluc is into, he’s certainly into kaeya’s idea, but he wouldn’t want that either, it’s too cliché. He wants something traditional and refreshing to you. Something that he wants you to experience only with him, not exactly traditional, not exactly romantic, but certainly fresh. It’s not exactly the typical “honeymoon”, since his purpose is to make this trip unforgettable for both of you, and to learn everything about you both.

And that’s to travel around the world to search for a new home, he thought it’ll be better to stay in his hometown but for the sake of you, he wants to make a fresh new start. At your first stop, you guys explore Europe, especially around Sweden and Greece. The second stop is to explore around Asia, which is Mongolia and Vietnam. it’s such a fascinating trip for you both. The third stop is New Zealand, your once go-to-list. To live under these countries culture and to feel as one. You guys kept on trying to adapt to the new environment and it makes you both know each other’s habit easily.

You guys have stayed in numerous hotels and apartments. It’s not exactly romantic nor is it special, it’s both of your purpose to make this trip a whole get-away for newlyweds pressure and such. but makes it endearing is how you both eventually just fall asleep within each other embrace, just resting peacefully in ajax’s chest, while his arm delicately circled your waist. He’s a warm blanket and you’re his beloved plushies.

He would tie your shoes, help you with your bags or laundry, and over all, he’s the one helping you in any chores and in any given chance. He wants you to enjoy this trip without having the burden to do this and that. He just wants you to lay back and have your whole attention to him. Ajax only purpose is to see your smile at the end of the road.

When you both are just too exhausted to explore, you guys would order local take outs and eat it like a hungry fish would. He would laugh and you would teased him. It’s just a moment of laughter and satisfaction. No such a thing as workloads. Just you both having the time of your life together.

Zhongli’s relaxing party

This man’s honeymoon idea is exactly like how you imagine it. Boring but addictive at some way. you both would explore pretty gardens, lovely mountainsides, tea parties, and museum, at taiwan. It’s such a boring idea, but whatever make zhongli smile and whatever make you feel like at an old grandpa house is exactly what you called “the zhongli zone”. It’s comforting, being with zhongli, already feels like you’re being snuggled by a huge polar bear.

He’s such a sweetheart for always making the trip as…relaxing as possible, not wanting to pressure you with the family’s perspective of how newlyweds should act.

It’s not like you’re the one who’s pampering zhongli, he is also trying his best to be suitable enough as the one who court you first. He dips himself inside the hot spring while snuggling with you, he shops some random goods with you, and he also do tea testing by sharing the same cup as you. So relaxing…it makes you forget that you will continue to work again soon sigh.

“do you like this tea? I made this out of boredom and i saw you getting exhausted just by running through stores at the local shops…the goods are okay but i suggest you to keep your health the same, okay?”, this translates to “i’m worried about you, please don’t tire yourself. I want you to be as careful as you are with me when you take care of yourself.” Nonetheless, serves you the tea and even gives you a heartwarming kith on your cheeks.

he would buy you some keychains, handmade ones since he believes it’s more practical for it’s creativity and thoughts in it…also because he appreciates people’s handcraft. He still keeps your handmade bracelets even at your wedding day. he also picks you small pretty flowers when you both were strolling around the floral garden. Fresh and beautiful, just like you (he initially want to say this but he tries not to make it cheesy).

Silently serves you like a dutiful servant would. Makes you tea, cooks you meal, and makes sure you’re well rested. He always wants to pay back the things you did for him, he knows it’s not 100% the same, but he wants you to know that…this honeymoon is made especially for you. After covering you with the blanket and puts on some scented candles. He whispers at night when you were already asleep, “sorry i can’t be the best, but i’ll always be here when you need me. I love you.“

Alhaitham’s wonder of the world

You present him a ticket to travel Papua especially Raja Ampat for your honeymoon and he was so excited, he holds your hand with glimmering eyes…with a calm devoted look. He’s always been this way, hard to show his emotion, even when he’s screaming internally.

When you both arrived, he prepared everything for both of you so you don’t have to stressed out. He loves being the one in charge of itinerary, he loves to work on the schedules. You would see him humming with a straight face in his work office while he’s typing down the things you would do together as husband and wife.

he sets you both up to a diving session. He’s so excited he talks about it all night along. You can hear his yap even at the first day you got there. He loves nature, the sea, and everything inside that deep ocean. You were kind of scared of the ocean, you confessed that at first, and he looks at you with confusion before he say such a reassurance that makes you rethink if this is THE Alhaitham you’re thinking of. “if you’re scared, hold my hand and close your eyes..i promise, i’ll be there, beside you.”

That words he make instantly scarred your heart with love. You don’t even know how it makes you fall harder for him. But you did, you trusted him with your whole life, you hold his hands and he dive you into the sea-worlds. He giggles when he sees you all scared…he hugged you while you both dive so you won’t be scared or sink when you’re not in his watch. “don’t be coy now…trust me, i won’t let you out of my sight.”

When you got back home…you don’t even know how he made you so in love. Sigh…alhaitham, the man you are..

Taglist; @esthelily @indarius @n0tamused @sangoqueenkoko @voidlesslove @lyralibra @eroxotckv @rikasurl @dailypenpen @daydreaming-paradies

#zhongli x reader #childe x reader #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #alhaitham x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #kaeya fluff #diluc fluff #zhongli fluff #childe fluff #alhaitham fluff

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heabitfruity · 5 months

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Silly Hobbies: Primarch Edition

Apparently I wrote too much according to tumblr, so I'm sorry if it's choppy :[

Lion El'Johnson - He actually really loves analyzing "literature"; but not normal literature like Shakespeare or Kafka. He likes analyzing things like The U.S Constitution and The Treaty of Versailles. He does this because he thinks it will help him diplomatically (it doesn't, nobody gets why he does it otherwise, not even his sons).

Fulgrim - This man knows how to dance to every K-Pop song known to man. He can throw it back to "Baby Got Back" and has tried to teach Sanguinius and Ferrus Manus how (It didn't go well, Ferrus threw his back out ). This man knows the exact choreography to "Womanizer", "Nude" and so many other songs.

Perturabo - He likes making useless contraptions; like infomercial level sort of inventions. He has invented bread-dogs, a time-machine to go back exactly two seconds for each use, a voice-recording recorder, etc. He uses Dorn to test it out, despite their... feelings for one another. He knows that Dorn will give him a blunt answer; even if he is told that the invention is "stupid".

Jaghatai Khan - He's really good at acrobatics, specifically everything with the asymmetrical bars; this man could easily escape a pack of dogs with a pen in his pocket (If anyone gets this reference I will be so proud). He attempted to teach Angron how to do the basics, but it didn't go that well; the man is just simply not flexible enough yet.

Leman Russ - This is a secret that he will take to his grave because he suffers from major internal misogyny. He knows how to knit, and he's REALLY good. He grew up on a planet that is 75% of the time below zero, of course the second he got ahold of yarn and wool he got to making warm things for his marine-sons! However, he plays it off as things like: "the citizens of Fenris have donated these for our cause".

Rogal Dorn - He likes making massive forts, societies and various massive structures in Minecraft, with Legos, Lincoln Logs, and those small, ceramic Christmas towns. They're usually quite extensive, but not extravagant. He will pester Perturabo and Magnus to look at them, and this often leads to debates about how these civilizations would function.

Konrad Curze - He teaches cooking classes; however, they are not pleasant. At the end of meal prep, all students are covered in blood due to Konrad butchering whatever protein they had prepared. The food actually tastes amazing, however the process of making it is certainly a battle within itself. Sevatar is his sous chef, which means he frequently has to do most of the work that isn't butchering.

Sanguinius - Honestly, animal rehabilitation. I know this sounds absolutely odd, but due to him having wings, he has to know how to keep a healthy batch of feathers! He's excellent at bird handling, and actually really enjoys it. He's saved at least 54 birds (he doesn't get to find many, his sons typically try to steer him away).

Ferrus Manus - Dude actually makes some really mean jewelry; like the man makes the permanent ankle chains, ring engravements, earrings (with the help of Fulgrim). He's made a lot for his brothers like Leman, Fulgrim, Magnus, and the Khan. They're all very appreciative (though Ferrus has to make Leman a special mixture so he doesn't chew through it by accident).

Angron - He does extreme sports! It helps focus on something that doesn't direct his anger at things that he doesn't need to focus on. It's somewhat funny to think of him riding a BMX, but his absolute favorite is bungee-jumping! He has forced demanded that his sons and brothers try it to "toughen them up". However, nobody except Konrad wanted to. (They both had a great time! One of the few times they've actually bonded over anything.)

Guilliman - He enjoys grading papers... He enjoys signing up to grade the essays of AP classes on Terra and does it every year if he has the time. He takes the pleasure of learning things about literary merit from other people's perspectives, and every time it makes him consider becoming a professor (even though it would be highly impractical).

Mortarion - He enjoys escape rooms, especially with Konrad and Horus. They actually usually have a great time, though sometimes they have to stop Konrad from digging into the walls. He actually commissioned Perturabo to make an elaborate escape room with hatches and secret pathways all around a set of shipping containers. It was so fun that he actually decided to keep it. (He still discovers new routes and puzzles in it every time he goes in.)

Magnus the Red - He plays Dungeons and Dragons with Khan, Guilliman, Perturabo and Alpharius and Omegon. He ALWAYS is the Dungeon Master, no matter what. This is not because he is selfish and possessive (he is a little), but because nobody in the group can seem to maintain a regular gaming schedule. They have simply resorted to Magnus being the godly controller of their games.

Horus Lupercal - This man fishes. I'm sorry, he does the straight, white man fishing and poses. He takes pictures of the fish with the awkward raised arm but genuine smile. He sometimes gives the fish to Konrad, however, less so after finding out from his students what happens during his classes.

Lorgar Aurelian - He writes fanfiction. He likes to show Magnus and Horus his angsty stuff. This stuff is even enough to make Magnus cry a little. Lorgar, however, also writes smut. I believe that this man has never had the intimate touch of any person. Not because he's celibate, but because he's a bitch. The smut's written like in the early days of Wattpad. It's disastrously bad (Think "his meat-cicle entered her mound"). Leman found it one time, he tormented Lorgar for weeks with it.

Vulkan - He bakes! He has learned all the favorite sweets of all of his brothers, making sure to surprise them occasionally whenever they haven't spoken in a while. He loves it whenever there are big events, gives him a chance to see all of his brothers and see them enjoy his work. (There have been some small altercations due to people hoarding food)

Corvus - He likes fashion; but not in a New York fashion week way, more of an Edna from The Incredibles way. He uses the help of Ferrus and Leman to help sew cloaks, shape up boots, and they use Sanguinius and Fulgrim to model it to make sure it looks good and it works.

Alpharius Omegon - They like mimicking their brothers as much as possible; in a "try to look exactly like them" way. It is actually really impressive, even going past the uncanny valley vibe. This led to Mortarion walking in on two versions of himself standing at his bedroom door and it made him piss his pants; and nobody believed him when he told the rest of them.

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thewhumpcaretaker · 30 days

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⚜ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕎𝕙𝕠 ℍ𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝔽𝕠𝕣 - ℂ𝕙. 𝕏: ℍ𝕠𝕨 𝕍𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕃𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 ℝ𝕠𝕞𝕖 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you to @evren-sadwrn for the beta read!

Summary: Vincent goes back to his old life in Rome as if nothing happened. But there's Chidi, at his side, the one thing Vincent doesn't want to forget from the last few months. And it's causing complications...especially with Santino.

TW: grief, nightmares, PTSD, drug use, hypersexuality, stalking, jealousy, withdrawing consent during sex (and the response to the “no” is scary, although there’s no assault), attempted kidnapping, knife wound, concussion, Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Author's Note: The title is a callback to that line in one of the first chapters, in which Chidi wonders how Vincent lived in Rome - bonus points if you remembered!

Fine. Good and done with. Vincent was strong again.

It was better to forget all of it. That bloodied thing that he could not recognize reflected in the mirrors outside the ballroom. The words coming through the intercom. The time in the hospital. Even the coronation. That was worst of all, perhaps. The disappointment in himself, in the way that perfect day had felt so hollow… No, no, no, just forget any of it had happened. And to Vincent’s great relief, his mind blanked it all mercifully away. There was a gaping hole at the center of him where he dared not tread, but that was better than dealing with it. He could even talk about it, very easily, just as he had done at the ball with everybody. As long as he didn’t feel it, he could talk about it. This was the way one recovered from grief, he decided. One day, one simply decided to stop being a baby.

Yes, he was just going back to Italy after a few days away, and everything would be normal. “Il palazzo,” as he called it, was the quaintest, pleasantest place anyone could imagine living, and he would thoroughly enjoy it. It was humble by the Marquis' standards, but still very comfortable, and fully staffed with maids and a cook. He’d made it every bit as lavish as might suit him, while being a little less stuffy than Versailles. There was an abundance of French furniture with a Roman twist, in sunset gradients from pink to burgundy, with gilding glittering at the edges of everything. There was statuary in honor of Bacchus and Apollo. There was a full bar in the parlor where Vincent was sure to entertain guests as often as he could. There was some obscure art piece or trinket in almost every room, gifted from suitors. He would walk by the river in the mornings, with one of those suitors on his arm, and have luncheons with Gianna to talk business. And sneak off with Santino, not to come back until morning. What happened in between was…generally something of a blur.

In Rome, he didn’t feel quite as unsafe as he did in the estate. He had learned to navigate this city on his own – always guarded, yes, but giving the guards the slip long enough to do a line unseen. The Myrmidons didn’t have the slightest idea about his activities…well, maybe the slightest idea, but they couldn’t prove anything. In the past, Vincent had made sure of that because they reported to his – no. No. Nothing happened. Don’t think in that direction.

There was one problem with this perfect plan, and its name was Chidi. He had absolutely no desire nor ability to forget Chidi. And it was Chidi who carried his broken body out of that bloodbath, it was Chidi who held him together in the weeks afterwards. It was Chidi who stood up for him at the coronation, and then swayed with him in an empty side room, leading him with unexpectedly graceful steps and an exhilarating hand pressed to his waist. Chidi was inextricably tied to everything that had happened to him, everything he had suffered, lacing every poisoned memory with something too sweet to spit out. Chidi had seen all of it, dealt with all of it, and now he haunted Vincent, reminding him of every moment. Vincent found that it was becoming difficult even to look at his bodyguard. A mixture of shame and hope and…something hung over Chidi, making him unbearably beautiful.

So, when they arrived at the precious Il Palazzo, Vincent assigned him a room on the lower floor, not adjacent to his own. It was much finer than the servant quarters. It was the finest of any room in the house except Vincent’s, in fact. But they absolutely had to sleep separately. He was not a child, nor was he a lover. What was acceptable in grief was no longer acceptable once one was done grieving. And Vincent was done grieving, thank you very much. He could sleep very well on his own, and he would need his privacy. Chidi made no protest.

Thus it began. Forcing his eyes to close in an unfriendly darkness. Waking up in cold sweats at three AM until he learned to fear sleep more than exhaustion. Sobbing with his face buried in a pillow so that no one would hear him and force him to admit that yes, things were different now. That he could no longer take being alone. Each morning dawned in pure, golden relief, spent gasping until the remnants of tears had cleared out of his breathing, and then meeting Chidi with a stately nod at his bedroom door. Chidi must know, by the way he waited there earlier and earlier each time, but he said nothing.

There was, of course, an alternative to this torture. He could go to bed with someone. Not Chidi, no, that would reopen too much, but…someone.

It was just three days after their arrival in Rome when Vincent dismissed Chidi for the first time. “Je sors avec les autres gardes ce soir. Prenez du temps libre. [I’m going out with the other guards this evening. Take some time off.]“ He said it casually, the way that one might casually toss a grenade into the center of a crowded room. They were seated at either side of a little round tea table for an afternoon snack. Chidi stood up and stared at him, breathing hard. Vincent raised an eyebrow. “Avons-nous un problème? [Do we have a problem?]”

He promptly sat down again. “Non.”

“Bien. [Good.]”

That night, Chidi had already gone to his own bedroom when Vincent returned with a man on his arm. But the door was cracked open, and Vincent could feel eyes on him as he passed, prickling his skin with visceral guilt. Well, to hell with that. He would not be guilted for doing what he had to do to get a moment of peace. No matter whether he pictured Chidi alone in that downstairs bedroom, unhappy. Probably very unhappy…

The night passed without troubled dreams – in fact, it passed almost entirely sleepless. And in the morning, Chidi was waiting for him at the door, the same as ever. His co-conspirator must have passed Chidi on the way out in the early hours. They didn’t speak a word about it.

And they didn’t speak a word about it the next time, or the time after that. It became Vincent’s habit to ensure that he did not sleep alone two nights in a row – which was to say, it became Vincent’s habit not to sleep more than two nights in a row. It was a perfect system, really. A liaison kept the nightmares away for a night. Drugs kept him upright and free of shame over the course of the day following a liaison. And by the time he passed out from exhaustion the next night, he was too tired to dream. As long as he didn’t look at Chidi, he didn’t have to feel bad about any of it, which was perfect, because he was trying not to look at Chidi anyway. What could go wrong?

Best of all, the whole cycle numbed him just enough to maintain things with Santino. The relationship had become…draining. A series of encounters that he had to get through by being drunk or high or teasing Santino to vent his own resentment. But the connection made sense politically. Vincent wracked his brain for a real reason to break up, and he couldn’t justify it. He definitely couldn’t deal with the fallout that would ensue if Santino decided to throw a fit about the breakup, not right now. It could ruin things with Gianna, and that was going so well.

Santi, for his part, was only too glad to have Vincent back in the city, and to restock his drug supplies whenever he wanted. He made excuses to stay in Rome until winter. The D’Antonio family was already making plans for how they would spend Christmas together. Again, the only hitch was Chidi.

“Pourquoi ne vous débarrassez-vous pas de votre garde du corps stupide? [Why don’t you get rid of that brainless bodyguard of yours?]” Santino would say, while eyeing him across the room and grimacing. Normally, Vincent tried to see him when Chidi wasn’t on shift, but Santino had an infuriating habit of showing up unexpectedly. And every time the two were in the same room, some variation of this conversation played out. “Il ressemble à un gros bœuf stupide. Je peux t'en trouver un meilleur. Quelqu'un de pointu. Vous savez à quel point Ares est efficace... [He looks like a big, stupid ox. I can find you a better one. Someone sharp. You know how effective Ares - ]”

“Je suis très bien fourni en gardes du corps, merci. [I’m very well supplied with bodyguards, thank you.]” But he never seemed to drop the subject for good. It was like Chidi was getting into everything, changing every aspect of his life, haunting his thoughts throughout every one-night-stand. No matter how he tried to act like he didn’t care, no matter how he tried to compartmentalize him, there was Chidi again.

What bothered him most of all was that Chidi seemed to have no trouble getting a life of his own. He was settling into his role as head of the Myrmidons admirably. In the evenings, when Vincent allowed himself the agonizing ecstasy of an hour in undivided company with Chidi, he learned that Chidi was exploring Rome by himself and finding it very much to his liking. He had even discovered a favorite restaurant in a historic building downtown. Would Vincent like to go there together sometime? He seemed to be testing the waters. Vincent couldn’t resist saying yes. Despite his best efforts to exclude Chidi, he couldn’t bear the thought of Chidi having a favorite place that didn’t include him. It was very confusing.

Apparently, the other Myrmidons sometimes accompanied him on his walks through the city. One of the maids, too. Chidi was friends with them now. Everybody liked him, because of course they did. He was so gentle in his brutishness, so playful and yet so steadying, so infectious when he laughed. And on top of that, just look at him. Vincent did, and felt physically burned by the way his shoulders strained with muscle under his blazer, the way that beard cut knife-sharp along his jaw. As usual, he had to look away.

The next day, Vincent watched him with this maid. He felt burned then too. The way her shining, brunette curls bounced when she nodded at something Chidi said, glowing with smiles. Did Chidi feel burned when he looked at her? When he looked at Vincent? Had Chidi ever felt this way, about anyone? Had anyone in the world ever felt this way about anyone else, or was Vincent being tortured in some cruel and usual manner peculiar to god’s least favorites? He was in flames. He was dying. He must be.

That night, he got very high indeed.

He went to Santino, because damn it, if Chidi was going to go to the maid when he was lonely, then Vincent was going to go to Santino.

A line. Santino’s finger running over a wine glass as he stared out at the river at dinner, interrupting sparkling candlelight. A line. That sparkling transformed into flashing on a club floor. A line. Their bodies pressed together in the back of a limo. A line. Santino’s words spilling into his mouth between kisses. “Sapevo che mi volevi, mio caro. Sapevo che saresti venuto da me da solo uno di questi giorni. Hai finalmente finito di farmi implorare? [I knew you wanted me, mio caro. I knew you’d come to me on your own one of these days. Are you finally done making me beg?]”

Disgust twisting in the pit of his body. “No. Prega più forte. [No. Beg harder.]” Say that you desire me. That I’m worth something…that no one could resist me… Santino whined and started humping into the leather seat with Vincent still buried in his ass.

“Per favore, mio amore. Per favore. Fammi sentire bene. Non so come fai... aaaa... devi essere una specie di diavolo. La mia tentazione. Non sei nemmeno umano. [Please, mon amour. Please. Make me feel good. I don’t know how you do it…aaaa…you must be some kind of devil. My temptation. You’re not even human.]”

“Ovviamente non lo sai. Non mi conosci affatto. [Of course you don’t know. You don’t know me at all.]” It just slipped out. Santino didn’t seem to notice.

But he noticed when Vincent went soft and retreated into the seat away from him.

“Dove-cosa...? Dove sei andato? [Where-what…? Where’d you go?]”

“Ferma la macchina. [Stop the car.]”

“Che – [What the – ]“

“Sei sordo e del tutto inosservante? Ho detto di fermare la macchina. Ho avuto tutto ciò che volevo. [Are you deaf as well as completely unobservant? I said stop the car. I’ve had all I wanted.]”

Santino’s face went from confused to livid. “No! Verrai a casa con me stasera. Hai accettato. [No! You’re coming home with me tonight. You agreed.]”

“Davvero Santino? Sei quel tipo di uomo? [Really, Santino? Are you that kind of man?]” He rolled his eyes disdainfully, but his heart had started doing something utterly sickening. Was Santino that kind of man? His hand closed on the handle of the knife in his back pocket.

“Non ti toccherò. [I won’t touch you],” Santino said very graciously, despite caressing the air just above his cheek in a gesture so close to touching that it might as well have been. “Ma avevi promesso di venire. Ti terrò finché non ti renderai conto di quanto ti piaccio. [But you promised to come. I’m going to keep you until you realize how much you like me.]” His face hovered inches from Vincent’s. How did this escalate so fast? Only minutes ago, it seemed, he was sober, having dinner and planning to go home soon…

Don’t panic. He wished Chidi were here. How could he get back to Chidi? What could he do? His bodyguards were following behind them in another car. They’d know if he went missing. And they’d notice if he jumped from the vehicle. His eyes flickered from Santino’s too-close lips to the door handle. Santino caught the look and covered the lock with his hand, grinning. “Non mi sfuggirai, Vincent. Finalmente, dopo mesi, sei venuto da me volentieri. Non a un pranzo con me e mia sorella, non a una cena per cui ho dovuto implorare. Sei venuto da me, da solo, perché stai iniziando a vederlo anche tu. E non ti permetterò di buttarlo via solo perché a volte ti confondi. Apparteniamo insieme. Quella guardia del corpo ti sta dando fastidio, ma io... [You’re not getting away from me, Vincent. Finally, after months, you’ve come to me willingly. Not at some lunch with both me and my sister, not at some dinner I had to plead for. You came to me, all on your own, because you’re starting to see it too. And I won’t let you throw that away just because you get confused sometimes. We belong together. That bodyguard is messing with your head but I’ll - ]”

The blade plunged into the center of Santino’s hand. It was so satisfying that Vincent had to take a moment to enjoy the look on his face. “Oh, sei sorpreso di essere stato pugnalato dopo un discorso del genere? Hahahaha, malato di merda! Non appartengo a te! [Oh, you’re surprised you got stabbed after a speech like that? Hahahaha, you sick fuck! I do not BELONG with you!]” It was already too late – he might as well unleash everything. “Sai perché sono venuto qui stasera? Perché sei il fondo del barile, la persona che vedo quando ho voglia di sguazzare. Ti ho sedotto solo nel caso in cui tu uccidessi tua sorella più tardi, e sai una cosa? Spero che tu ci provi, e spero che lei ti uccida prima. Ti odio a morte, questa è la verità. Ovviamente devi ricorrere al rapimento solo per la più piccola speranza di ricevere il più piccolo briciolo di attenzione, patetico e disperato succhiacazzi. Risparmiati la fatica e non cercarmi più [You know why I came here tonight? Because you’re the bottom of the barrel, the person I see when I feel like wallowing. I only ever seduced you in case you kill your sister later, and you know what? I hope you try, and I hope she kills you first. I hate your guts, that’s the truth. Of course you have to resort to kidnapping just for the smallest hope of the smallest scrap of attention, you pathetic, desperate cock sucker. Save yourself the trouble and don’t look for me again.]” And with a spray of crimson trialing behind, he wrenched himself and the knife out into the battering midnight wind.

It hurt…a lot more than he was expecting. His shoulder made impact first. The purple-black of the city sky rolled over and over itself as he tumbled across cobblestones. There was tearing fabric, rocks driving into his flesh, a sharp impact against the back of his skull. In the distance, he could hear screeching tires. Was it one or both cars that turned back for him? But he blacked out before he could learn the answer.

He woke up in motion. A familiar scent. Someone’s arms underneath him. “Move. Don’t stand there, get a doctor.”

“Chidi…?” He curled closer against his chest. They were going up a flight of stairs, it seemed.

“C'est moi. Vous allez bien, monsieur. Vous êtes à la maison. [It’s me. You’re okay, sir. You’re home.]”

Splitting pain down the center of his head. “Je ne… je ne ressens pas… [I don’t…I don’t feel…]”

“Vous avez une commotion cérébrale. Mais tout ira bien. Tu étais si courageux. Ils m'ont dit – [You have a concussion. But everything will be alright. You were so brave. They told me – ]“ Chidi cut himself off, seemingly overcome. “De toute façon. Je vais te déposer maintenant, au lit. Est-ce que ça va? [Anyway. I’m going to set you down now, in bed. Is that okay?]”

Vincent realized he was shaking. “N'allez nulle part. [Don’t go anywhere.]”

“Je ne le ferai pas. [I won’t.]” He was laid very gently onto soft sheets. His shoes and tie were pulled away, the blanket tucked up to his chin. Everything was so warm, so bright…his head was still cradled in Chidi’s arms. Finally, Chidi was in his bedroom again, and everything seemed fixed. The change from the past few days was so enormous that Vincent couldn’t understand why he hadn’t done this sooner.

“Chidi?”

“Oui?”

“Je déteste Santino. [I hate Santino.]”

That gorgeous jaw set tight. “Il t'a fait du mal? [Did he hurt you?]”

“Non, heureusement non. Il a juste essayé de me kidnapper. [No, fortunately not. He just tried to kidnap me.]” Vincent scoffed. “C’est de ma faute, j’ai renvoyé mes gardes du corps, donc j’ai dû sauter – [It’s my fault, I sent my bodyguards away, so I had to jump – ]”

“Ce n'est PAS votre faute. [It is NOT your fault.]” Chidi pressed a kiss against his pounding head. “Cet homme est une petite fouine dégoûtante. Je ne le laisserai plus jamais toucher à toi. [That man is a disgusting little weasel. I will never let him lay a finger on you again.]”

Vincent smiled, savoring the way the warmth spread from the spot his lover’s lips had touched. “Merci.” He studied Chidi’s face. Worry lines at the corner of his mouth and eyes stood out prominently. There was the burning thing, flaring up in his chest at the sight of Chidi’s face. The guilt, the shame. The terrifying magnetism. “…Que vous ont dit les gardes? […How much did the guards tell you?]”

“Que veux-tu dire? [What do you mean?]”

They didn’t tell him anything, then. This was going to be incredibly difficult. Vincent tried one more time. “Vous ont-ils dit ce que je faisais avant de quitter le club ? Vous ont-ils dit… dans quel état je me trouve? [Did they tell you what I was doing before we left the club? Did they tell you…the state that I am in?]”

“Ils feraient mieux de ne rien me cacher. [They had better not have kept anything from me.]”

“Je leur ai fait jurer de ne rien te dire. [I made them swear not to tell you.]” He stared at the far corner of the blanket for a minute, trying to muster the courage. Instead, he found himself deciding maybe not. Maybe it was better Chidi didn’t know. If he quit, then who would ever have to tell Chidi? Nobody, right?

But Chidi saved him the trouble. “Que prenez-vous, monsieur? [What are you taking, sir?]”

Infinite silence, still staring into the corner. “Cocaïne.” He waited for disappointment, for crushing sympathy, already preemptively irritated by both.

“Comment ça a commencé? [How did it start?]”

“…Santino. Quand je suis arrivé ici seul pour la première fois. […Santino. When I first came out here alone.]”

“Je vois. [I see.]” Vincent could almost feel that information being filed for later. “Voulez-vous arrêter? [Do you want to stop?]”

“Non. Oui. Je ne sais pas. [No. Yes. I don’t know.]”

“Eh bien… c'est mon travail de protéger votre santé, monsieur. Je ne ferais pas mon travail si je te laissais continuer. [Well…it’s my job to protect your health, sir. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I let you continue.]”

“Et si c’était la seule chose qui me garde sain d’esprit, hmm ? J'ai besoin… [What if it’s the only thing that’s keeping me sane, hmm? I need…]” Fuck, he was going to cry if they kept on with this discussion. “Et si ça me maintenait en vie ? N'est-ce pas important pour ma santé ? Je serai trop fatigué sans ça, et puis je dormirai, et puis je… je ne peux pas… je ne peux pas… [What if it’s keeping me alive? Isn’t that important for my health? I’ll be too tired without it, and then I’ll sleep, and then I’ll…I can’t…I can’t…]” At some point he had started hyperventilating and couldn’t stop.

Chidi took his hand and kissed it, looking deeply pained on his behalf. “Monsieur. Je veux t'aider avec les cauchemars. Avec le chagrin. Tout cela. Chaque jour, je te vois souffrir alors que tout le monde s’attend à ce que tu ailles bien. C’est impossible, vu la pression que vous subissez, d’essayer de revenir instantanément à la normale. Sachez que vous n’êtes pas obligé de le faire seul. [Sir. I want to help you with the nightmares. With the grief. All of it. Every day, I see you hurting when everyone else expects you to be fine. It’s impossible, the amount of pressure you’re under, trying to go back to normal instantly. Please know that you don’t have to do this alone.]”

“N'êtes-vous pas trop occupé avec la femme de chambre? [Aren’t you too busy with the maid?]” Vincent wished he could take back the words but they were already out, and now he would have to hear the answer, hear Chidi lie or get angry or pity him or -

“Comme si quelqu’un pouvait être plus important pour moi que toi. Vous êtes ma vie, Maître Vincent. J'ai donné ma vie pour la tienne volontairement, tu te souviens ? J'étais prêt à être exécuté. Et je reste prêt. Je vous attends. Je n’ai touché personne d’autre, et je ne le ferai pas, peu importe le nombre de personnes que vous coucherez. Faites ce que vous devez faire, monsieur. Je veux juste être là pour toi. Même quand les choses vont mieux. Quand tu n’as plus mal… et je ferai en sorte que ce jour vienne… quand tu n’as plus mal, je veux toujours être à côté de toi. Pas besoin d’être malade pour dormir à mes côtés, Vincent. Si tu me veux, c'est tout ce qu'il faut. Je viendrai à toi. Peut-être que tu ne ressens pas la même chose, mais je t’aime et je le ferai toujours. [As if anyone could be more important to me than you. You are my life, Master Vincent. I gave my life for yours willingly, remember? I was ready to be executed. And I remain ready. I wait for you. I haven’t touched anyone else, and I won’t, no matter how many people you take to bed. You do what you need to do, sir. I just want to be there for you. Even when things are better. When you’re not in pain anymore…and I’ll make sure that day comes…when you’re not in pain anymore, I still want to be next to you. You don’t need to be unwell to sleep beside me, Vincent. If you want me, that’s all it takes. I will come to you. Maybe you don’t feel the same way, but I love you, and I always will.]”

Maybe it was the dawn finally starting to rise, but the world shone gold at all the edges. Like it was cracking, and sunlight was seeping in. It bled around the curtains, onto the bed, onto their joined hands. But Vincent’s eyes were too well adjusted to the darkness. He didn’t know what to do. Barely even knew how to talk around the lump in his throat. Say it back. I love you too. I love you too. I love you too. “Je ne savais pas… Je ne savais pas que tu pouvais parler de cette façon, Chidi. [I didn’t know…I didn’t know that you could talk this way, Chidi.]”

“Ce n’est pas une conversation, monsieur. Je t'aime. [It’s not talk, sir. I love you.]”

I love you too. “Allonge-toi à côté de moi. [Lay next to me.]” I love you too. “Jusqu'à ce que le médecin arrive. [Until the doctor gets here.]” I love you too. “Je ne veux pas que tu ailles n'importe où. [I don’t want you to go anywhere.]”

And Chidi slipped into the bed beside him, embracing Vincent skin to skin, arms securely around his waist, sighing contentedly against his neck… not asking him to say a thing. “Je sais. [I know.]”

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#hopelesslydevoted #john wick fanfic #john wick #chidi x marquis #chidi jw #marquis de gramont #wickblr #marquis de gramont whumpee #chidi caretaker #angst #jealousy #whump fic #assassin whump #ao3 crosspost #// grief #// drugs

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devildomwriter · 1 month

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Ten Manga I Think They’d Enjoy #2

Lucifer

He likes manga that reads like classic literature, dark stories, mysteries, psychological stories, and occasionally something sweet or cute

Children of the Whales, Mujirushi, PTSD Radio, Requiem of the Rose King, Shadows House, The Summer Hikaru Died, Togue Oni: Primal Gods in Ancient Times, Gachiakuta, Your Lie in April, Drops of God

Mammon

He likes stories involving his personal hobbies like working on cars, gambling, etc. he also enjoys funny stories and secretly cute romances or relatable romances

Play it Cool Guys, Bleach, Chibi Vampire, Daily Lives of High School Boys, Fire Force, I Belong to the Baddest Girl at School, I’m a Wolf But My Boss is a Sheep, My Monster Secret, Skip and Loafer, The Muscle Girl Next Door

Leviathan

Leviathan loves everything but he’s especially a fan of gaming manga, magical girls, monster girls, isekai, and the classics

A Centaur’s Life, Jobless Reincarnation, Yashahime Princess Half-Demon, If Witch Then Which, Banished From the Hero’s Party I Decided to Live a Quiet Life in the Country Side, My Clueless First Friend, Far-away Paladin, Geek Ex-Hitman, If the RPG World Had Social Media, Komi Can’t Communicate

Satan

Satan loves manga that reads like classical literature but he also loves stories about cats, dark mysteries, psychological stories and ones with characters he finds relatable

Case Study of Vanitas, Cat + Gamer, XXXHolic, Haunted Bookstore, Skull-Face Bookseller Honda-San, Vampire Library, Heavenly Delusion, I’m the Catlord’s Manservant, Infernal Devices, Library Wars

Asmodeus

Asmodeus mostly enjoys romance whether it’s cute and fluffy or extremely erotic

Nana to Kaoru, We Can’t Do Just Plain Love, We Started a Threesome, I Want You to Make Me Beautiful, In to the Tentacle Cave, Who Wants to Marry a Billionaire, Training Mr Sakurada, My Androgynous Boyfriend, Birds of Shangri-La, Interspecies Reviewers

Beelzebub

Beelzebub is a big fan of manga involving food but he also enjoys a good action adventure and sports manga

Crazy Food Truck, My Deer Friend Nokotan, One Punch Man, Restaurant to Another World, Let’s Eat Together Aki and Haru, How to Grill Our Love, Giant Spider and Me, Hajime no Ippo, How Heavy Are the Dumbbells You Lift?, Plus Sized Elf

Belphegor

Belphegor likes stories with relatable characters which can be hard to find but he also loves adventures, horror, and Slice of life; he’s a little all over the place

Servamp, Soara and the House of Monsters, Jujutsu Kaisen, Rurouni Kenshin, You Have No Human Rights, Uzumaki, SINoALICE, Gannibal, The Tree of Death, Dorohedoro

Solomon

Solomon loves compelling narratives, dark psychological stories, stories that take a deeper look a humanity and immortality, and one’s that involves demons/angels/sorcerers. He does also love cat books like Satan

Ancient Magus Bride, Blood on the Tracks, Bloody Mary, Of the Red Light and the Ayakashi, Demon Diary, Dr. Stone, Emanon, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, Magus of the Library, Mob Psycho 100

Thirteen

Thirteen is a little all over the place, she likes to see what’s popular but she also enjoys slashers, one’s that take a closer look at death and spirits, and dark romance

Duke of Death and His Maid, Executioner and Her Way of Life, Ghost Reaper Girl, No Longer Allowed in Another World, Versailles of the Dead, Your Turn to Die, Chainsaw Man, Your Letter, Solanin, Corpse Party

Simeon

Simeon enjoys reading manga that have some religious aspects, he likes ones about authors since they are relatable, and he enjoys some random ones here and there that are cute or funny. He’s also a sucker for a pure romance

Ceres Celestial Legend, Handa-Kun, A Witch’s Printing Office, Lord Hades Ruthless Marriage, Takopi’s Original Sin, Ride Your Wave, Haru’s Curse, Blank Canvas: My So-Called Artists Journey, Our Dreams at Dusk, Blue Flag

Raphael

Raphael canonically likes coming of age sports dramas. I believe he’s also he amused by one’s involving ant Christian aspects about angels and demons, heaven and hell. He also enjoys one’s that include his hobbies like security, military, and anything to do with fashion

Cheeky Brat, Waiting for Spring, Blue Box, Kuroko’s Basketball, Yowamushi Pedal, Ran and the Gray World, Mame Coordinate, Cinderella Closet, Kamikaze Girls, Anri a Shoemaker

Luke

Luke loves to try everything but his books are monitored to make sure he doesn’t stumble upon anything inappropriate for his age ana angel status. He loves ones about food, animals, adventure, and a good slice of life or 4-panel.

Cat Massage Therapy, Yu-Gi-Oh, Pokémon Adventures, Animal Crossing, My Little Pony: The Manga, Story of Seven Lives, Star Wars: Rebels, Dragon Ball, Disney Twisted Wonderland, Cardcaptor Sakura

Michael

Michael enjoys funny books, one’s that take a closer look at humanity and war, classical adaptations, and one’s involving angels and demons.

Record of Ragnarok, I Had That Same Dream Again, Skip Beat, Angel Sanctuary, Homunculus, The Ephemeral Scenes of Setsuna’s Journey, Alpi the Soul Sender, X, Ballad x Opera, Legend of the Nymph

Mephistopheles

Mephistopheles likes books that involve history, nobility, prestigious jobs, mystery, and equestrian sports. He also enjoys one’s about demons and servants.

Chronicles of an Aristocrat Reborn in Another World, Great Jahy Will Not be Defeated, Villains Are Destined to Die, Vinland Saga, Cantarella, Kingdom, Blade of the Immortal, Ron Kamonohashi: Deranged Detective, How a Realist Hero Rebuilt the Kingdom, Ajin

Barbatos

Barbatos prefers books that are dark and disturbing as well as insightful books on time, immortality, grief, morality vs law, etc.

Coffee Moon, Drifting Classroom, His Majesty the Demon King’s Housekeeper, The Maid I Hired Recently is Mysterious, Horizon, The Lady and Her Butler, I Sold My Life For Ten Thousand Yen Per Year, Homunculus, Parasyte, Yokai Rental Shop

Diavolo

Diavolo absolutely loves cute family manga, funny manga, one’s that involve demons and angels, cute romances, and exciting action and adventure. He isn’t picky and will read anything if it’s been recommended to him.

Correspondence From the End of the Universe, Soul Eater, Given, In the Clear Moonlit Dusk, Juana and the Dragonewt’s Seven Kingdoms, Terrified Teacher at Ghoul School, Thigh High, Delinquent Daddy and Tender Teacher, Hate Me But Let Me Stay, Hinamatsuri

#obey me shall we date #obey me headcanon #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me solomon #obey me thirteen #obey me simeon #obey me raphael #obey me luke #obey me mephistopheles #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #manga reccs #no manga has affected me like you have no human rights

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youryurigoddess · 11 months

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A. Z. Fell & Co. bookshop and its statues

To start off, you have to be warned that the former set was almost completely destroyed in the S1 bookshop fire and whatever wasn’t important enough to be salvaged before the shooting had to be replaced afterwards. Which means that a few memorable and already identified pieces aren’t there anymore, for better or worse.

This is going to be another long analysis, and certainly not a full one — I’ll describe only the big picture and the most important props. A continuation focusing on the decorations in the less prominent parts of the bookshop will follow here.

Right at the entrance we can see twin tables with the Marly Horses by Guillaume Coustou the Elder. The sculptures showing two rearing horses with their groom were originally commissioned by Louis XV of France for the entrance to château de Marly, a royal residence near Versailles.

In S2 Crowley is shown consistently using one of the horses, partially out of convenience, partially in line with a returning throughout the season dark horse theme. Ironically, the symbolic harnessing of a wild animal mirrors the supposed domestication of the demon by his angel, as seen in the transformation of the statue to the right from the entrance into an altar of his submission.

After all, there’s nothing more vulnerable to Crowley than losing the usual protection of his shades, and using a horse sculpture as a stand for his sunglasses speaks volumes about his natural aptitude towards uncertain and liminal states. He thrives in stress situations, dangles his feet while hopping onto a curb, and assumes the form of a non-Euclidean fluid when asked to sit down in a chair. Stability isn’t exactly what he’s most comfortable with. So what for Aziraphale signifies the power over his (theirs?) own domain and ultimate safe space, for Crowley means a challenge.

It makes sense that this particular spot near the exit is where the demon feels most secure in the bookshop, his favorite place in the world. That’s where he stood after crossing its threshold in 1941 too.

The statue in the middle, right on top of the central bookstand, was replaced after the S1 fire. It’s still clearly a Cupid, but in a different pose and without his weapons — instead of shooting an arrow, now he’s holding his left hand over his head, pointing up towards Heaven or God. Quite a change. This is the most similar copy made after Ernest Rancoulet. The butterfly-like wings (similar to the ones Rancoulet used in his La Nuit Tout Repose, At Night Everything Rests) on the copy in the bookshop have visible screws, so they were probably added either by the previous owner or the Good Omens art department.

What’s especially important from the analytic point of view is that similarly to S1, the Cupid in question still appears in the frame facing Crowley, but not targeting him anymore, like it used to, but rather mirroring. The most memorable example appears during the Final Fifteen™ when the demon points up with left hand to highlight his “No nightingales” line.

This one will be fun! Everyone, meet George Maxim’s bronze allegory of Music in her full glory. Angels like music in general, right? And Aziraphale is a known audiophile, which was asserted in the very first episode of the new season. But there’s another link to music in his angelic roots. A rather apocalyptic one — the Archangel Raphael is believed to blow the trumpet from a holy rock in Jerusalem to announce the Second Coming (the Day of Resurrection), and Israfil, its Islamic counterpart, Qiyamah (the Day of Judgment).

Staying in the very same context, let’s read the ballad Israfel by Edgar Allen Poe, which was obviously inspired by the titular Archangel.

Nothing on Earth lasts forever — but that’s exactly the reason why we should use it for inspiration, savor this momentary bliss, and hold it in our hearts. The ballad shares the same sentiment about all creation being temporary and only the passions of angels (i.e., Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s feelings) staying eternally unchanging as Aziraphale’s “Nothing lasts forever”. His line was intended as an affirmation of his feelings, similar to “You go too fast for me, Crowley”.

And just like the Cupid is mirroring Crowley in the “No nightingales” line, Music is targeting Aziraphale with her harp in the following frame.

On the counter there’s a smaller bronze statue, which original unfortunately remains unidentified, but I was able to track some similar designs. A woman coming back from the harvest with crops — either a representation of Autumn or the Greek goddess Demeter bringing a blessing of a plentiful harvest. In the Bible, the harvest is a metaphor for both spiritual fruitfulness and judgment. Our productivity in God’s kingdom is supposedly tied to our faith and obedience. And the most popular verses repeat an even older saying, how one reaps what they sow:

Do not be deceived: God is not mocked, for whatever one sows, that will he also reap. For the one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life. (Galatians 6:7-8)

And another angel came out of the temple, calling with a loud voice to him who sat on the cloud, “Put in your sickle, and reap, for the hour to reap has come, for the harvest of the earth is fully ripe.” (Revelation 14:15)

The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved. (Jeremiah 8:20)

If you read The summer that was never supposed to end meta, you’ll interpret the figure itself as a rather ominous sign. Now let’s add to it positioning right next to the gigantic Victorian cash register one cannot possibly overlook and the recurring theme of payment. And the fact that it conveniently disappears at some point in The Ball (S02E05) episode, never to be seen again. Is the payment reminder not needed anymore, because its day just came?

For some reason ever since S1 this one was often interpreted as a bust of Alexander the Great by the fandom. The proper name is the Head of a Victorious Athlete, also known as Benevento Head. As this suggests, the originally bronze sculpture represents a victorious athlete wearing an olive crown and was found near Benevento in Italy, in the remnants of the ancient town Herculaneum, wiped off from the face of the earth together with Pompeii in a tragic volcanic eruption (which was conveniently used later on as a more modern example of the story of Sodom and Gomorrah). It’s an obviously Roman copy of a Greek sculpture and dates back to 50 AD, less than a decade after Aziraphale and Crowley met in Rome in 41 AD— who knows, maybe they were still around at the time? This would make an interesting connection to the statue Crowley brought back to his apartment in 1941.

And no, in the HD quality and especially en face it doesn’t appear similar to Crowley. In fact, there seems to be a very good reason why most photographers choose another, more flattering angle for this particular artwork. But aesthetics aside, the white bust seems more like a mirror for Aziraphale and his self-constructed (and self-imposed) idealized image, based on a specific set of virtues. The presented athlete is victorious because he’s the epitome of the Platonic Triad of higher Forms: Truth, Beauty, and Excellence, understood in the wider context of the Greek Aretē.

To highlight this point, in S1 the head was literally used as a designated display place of the medal Aziraphale got as a commendation for his 6000 years on Earth in the 1800 cut scene. As a free agent not affiliated with Heaven in S2 he doesn’t hang it there anymore, but the medal is still in the bookshop, visible on his desk. You can see it in detail and read the description of its provenance in the last bookshop meta.

Daedalus and Icarus are a very popular motif in the history of art, but certainly not in this overtly masculine, military style. Icarus was too ambitious for his own good and ignored explicit instructions, which constitutes both the sin of pride and that of disobedience to one's parents (or one’s Creator?).

Interestingly, there’s also a version of the myth in which Icarus fashioned himself greater than Helios, the Sun himself, and the god himself punished him for it with the fall — which resonates very strongly with my vision of Crowley both in relation to his Fall and potential S3 development.

But back to Aziraphale. If the medal in question was given to him as a commendation he from the Supreme Archangel himself, it also serves as a warning for him to not get too arrogant or comfortable with his accomplishment (i.e., life on Earth) or it might lead to his fall (or, in this case, Fall).

Foreshadowing much?

#Yuri is doing her thing #good omens #good omens meta #A. Z. Fell & Co.#Aziraphale #Aziraphale’s bookshop #those art history classes weren’t a waste of time after all

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ego-meliorem-esse · 1 year

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I present to you my years long obsession - female America.

This is not a Nyotalia version it's just a concept of "what if everything is the same but Alfred was born a girl". Like i see so much potential! In a world where all the odds are stacked against her, she despite it all gets to where she is today. Making good and bad decisions along the way.

A lil hc/backstory for my main girl:

• Given name (by dad Arthur) is Elizabeth Felicity Kirkland but during the revolution changes her last name to Jones. Her first name change happens in the 1820/1830s when she changes it to Alexandra, also dropping her second name. (I was young when I came across the name and it means "defender/protector of man" and I was /obessed/ so i just stick to it since she is a loser and just thinks it's a cool sounding name)

• She goes by Alex/Al and I think that's neat :)

• My girl is tall. Like 181 cm tall. Sender but with visible muscles. She does want a bigger behind but her Anglo-Saxon genetics say nah.

• As a child she spent more time in England due to her being a girl so I think even if Arthur was absent he didn't allow her to spend much time alone in the colonies. She resents that ofc

• Just like with Alfred, Alex is very fkn close to Matt even if she forgets to call him or check up on him for months at a time. Al: "Hey man I know I just called a while ago but how've you been? Matt: "you called me 5 months ago..."

• Works at NASA as a part time aeronaitical engeneer. Loves physics, hates chemistry (self projection im sorry)

• During the revolution she dressed up as a boy but the people she worked with knew she wasn't one. People went along with it anyway.

• Other than during the American revolution, she dressed in feminine presenting clothes up until the 1930s. After that it was trousers all the way!

• Alex was never a nurse during wartime but definitely did accountaint work in ww1 and later joined the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force (WAAF) where she stayed until 1943 when she joined her men fighting on the ground ( Conversion to Army status, Women's Army Corps - WAC). That's when she saw actual combat.

• Isn't fond of birds. Canaries are fine. Eagles are unsettling.

• Obsesses over a certan thing/hobby at a time up to a point where she perfects her skill. When she was about 14 (human years) it was the whole freedom and equality of man and all the politics regarding it. In the 1890s her obession was cars and motor vehicles. The 1910s brought a new obsession on womens rights. 1960s was space exploration where she devoted almost all her time researching and working for NASA, disregarding her goverment/state duties as a country. In the 1980s it was the internet. In 1990s she got really interested in the Balkan wars (self insert >:)) for whatever reason. Today her attention is mostly on social media and her attention span ia short af. Still really likes all things tech.

• Hasn't got many properties/real estate. Al does own a penthouse in Seaport, Boston and a late 17th and early 18th century colonial home in Newbury, Boston (that she needs to renovate asap). The only other real state she owns is in California, though modern and recently buit, it's not big nor does she spend much time there.

• Her personality is basicaly Alfred if he grew up as a woman and had to face opression based on sex and inequality that came with it. So still bubbly, extroverted, a social butterfly but also self-serving, idealistic, manipulative sprinkled in with sarcasm, cautiousness and craftiness. Same feckin sense of humour tho.

• In 1783, at the Treaty of Paris in Versailles both her and her father had to sign the document that started her independence (She herself had a human representitive 'cus of her age/sex bla bla but it was mostly formalities). At that signing Arthur gave her a flintlock pistol that he himself used in the 1640s. Not many words were exchanged, he just put it in her hand to keep. She still has it in her attic. Somewhere. She'd find it if she just takes the time to look for it I'm sure.

• In 1889 she straight up did her first war crime/murder of a fellow nation (if you don't count shooting her pops face off at Saratoga in 1777). After an altrication with Antonio that resulted in him insulting and slapping the girl for her audacity and mouthiness, she punched him straight in the jaw. A fight insued where she got ahold of his belt and straight up strangled him. Took her a while to process that and accept it. On the bright side Antonios scilence was heard around the world and while perplexed and insulted, older and influential (mostly male at that point) nations started to feel a glint of respect forming for the young startup.

• Al was given a family pocket watch by her father in the 90s (No more empire for Arthur so he sad :(((((( ) that was suppoaed to go to a firstborn son of a lord as an inheritance symbol. Everyone thought Jack would get it since Matt is techincally not Arthur's son. But even he would be expected to recieve it before Al. Then in an unexpected turn of events, while visiting her grumpy and nostalgeous empire-missing dad, Arthur pulled out the watch while eating stale kebabs in front of the telly and gave it to her casualy without as much as a word (The empire started with her, it shall end with her). She keeps it in her work desk drawer in a wooden box.

• Al and Zee have an interesting relationship. While being different in almost every aspect, there ia a mutual respect for eachother from eachother. While not really being able to see eye to eye, they are sisters in a certain roundabout and very fucked up way. Girls who learned that they are very much judged by their sex despite being daughters of a high ranking British lord. While aware that she will never be Alex/Elizabeth in her fathers eyes, Zee still gets treated as a treasure by her father. Much to Zee's annoyance.

• It's still Matt who's in Alex's shadow. Despite the dificulties she rises above and is the perfect child of an empire. Smart, intelligent, inquisitive, a fast learner and incredibly aware of the political and historical situation at all times. Even despite being a girl and less than a son in the eyes of a 17th/18th century society, she suceeds.

• Arthur wanted a son to come from his colonial endeavours, as all empires/nobility at the time did. And as all other empires at the time had. But ofc karma is a bitch and he's the only empire with an only child being a daughter. Though at first thougrly dissaponted, when he lays his eyes on his daughter for the first time, the only emotion he can feel is /joy/.

• Instead of sowing/knitting Al's education was very much focused on natural sciences, since that is where Arthur quickly realized she exels at. He swapped her Violin and General History of Music lessions with Astrophysics and The History of Astronomy. All in an attempt to stop her from making his ears bleed from the constant prattling about The Four Square Theorem or The Brachistocrone Curve. It only got worse, but his daughter was happy and content.

I have sooooo many more of these jfc i might do more later but for now this is all I can think of.

TLDR: Female America is great and has so much potential as a character hghhhhhhhh

#i needed yo get this out here eventually #its just so faacinatingghh #also no glasses us 1 i cant draw em for ahit and 2 ber sight is relatively good #she looks a bit like arthur but thats on purpose i think #oh welllllll #hetalia #hws america #aph america #nyo america #nyo!america #nyotalia #my art #myart #historical hetalia #alfred f jones

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blood-starved-beast · 6 months

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how would you interpret Maria hugging hunter in her visceral? i always thought of it as some sort of mockery from her

Sort of, but in the way that her whole fight is sort of a "mockery" of the concept of a dashing Heroic romance (In the Shakespearean sense of the term). Let me explain.

First, we have to understand Maria's character design in that she is of the bifauxnen archetype. The bifauxnen is a handsome, gentleman-ly type woman portraying all the traits we associate with a dashing hero: courageous, refined and sometimes aristocratic, and androgynous. She is the counterpart to the bishonen, the contrast to the more coarse Lad-ette. The most famous of this archetype of course is Lady Oscar from Rose of Versailles. She is essentially a Female Prince.

The Lady Maria reflects this design. Out of all the Hunters and Byrgenwerth crew, she is the one dressed to the Nines, wearing dashing Cainhurst fashion to something that is essentially nasty and wet and all the other things (the Hunt). She's wearing jewelry (the Lumenflower brooch) the cravat, the fact she curls her hair, the aristocratic looks and backstory (the fact that she's the Lady Maria, a Knight of Cainhurst Vileblood royalty), the fact that she was the one taking care of the Research patients and they worship her, etc. Her outfit fits along the lines of the Lady Oscars, Alucards, and so forth. The fact that she is the only one to realize the atrocity of her actions, to regret her actions and reject her calling as a Hunter, is so fucking introspective at the cost of noticing Gehrman's mania for example reads very much in line of a Romantic hero. She is presenting a Look and this Look says she is meant to come off as rich, handsome, and heroic as she's slaying monsters. At least, those are the visual cues the player is meant to read in that sense. And that is carried over into her actions.

Lady Maria fights the Hunter to "liberate [them] from [their] wild curiosity" - she is taking the role again, of the hero. The villain here, being that need for Insight and she is saving the Hunter from the call of blood. She then engages you a fight, a dance really, set to waltz - again, playing with those romantic hero tropes (assuming you don't parry her to death). The visceral attack therefore, plays into that fantasy. She treats you so gently cause of course you are the Victim enslaved by your thirst for knowledge, she is the romantic hero, mercy killing you with the sweet kiss of death. She steadies you as your now heartless body bleeds out onto the floorboards of the clocktower.

But like everything in Bloodborne, there is a catch you see. Cause the Lady Maria is not a hero in fact; she is a bloody coward.

Yes, Maria is the only member of the Byrgenwerth crew (and amongst the few Hunter in general) to make a dry stop + u-turn from the Hunt and the atrocities associated with that. But unlike someone like Djura, who at least is trying to be productive in his redemption, Maria runs from her mistakes. She casts Rakuyo into the Well and leaves. She joins the Research Hall and contributes to more atrocities there, but hey at least all the patients there love her right?? (😬) And when her brooding (or maybe insanity? who says she was immune to the Beast plague? Or Kos infecting her brain??) was too much for her, she takes her own life instead of you know, working to dismantle the systems - both the Research Hall and the Hunt itself. Her issues and her guilt - that is more important to her than actually helping or saving people. She the Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower, Lord over nothing else but the reminder of her greatest failure. Both in life and in death.

Cause you see, her stopping the Hunter isn't really about saving them from their wild curiosity. The Fishing Hamlet is dead and gone. The effects are echoing throughout all of Yharnam in this day and age. Heck, the Hunter just came in from the Research Hall itself. It is well and truly Known, to prevent future atrocities of that scale, one has to know the events that led to those atrocities in the First Place. Lady Maria isn't helping you, isn't saving you from anything you already knew to begin with. She is, once again, trying to alleviate her own guilt and shame and trying to prevent others of knowing of that shame. So she tries to kill you. But you know, in a Heroic way. Hence why the whole fight is a sham and mockery.

She also hates your guts. I consider this to be tertiary canon at best, but the deleted lines has it so that she calls you insufferable, and baits you to kill her. She Does Not Actually Give a Shit About You. It cannot be more blatant than that. And how couldn't she? You make her recall her greatest shame, force her to break the last of her principles (no Vilebloodbending) so that your ass does not learn of what she's done. You also keep coming back, so you're a constant reminder that no matter what she does, her actions really do mean nothing, not before, and definitely not now.

Also she stares at you like this the whole fight if looks could kill well, you would be dead and not coming back (The way you ought to. Bastard. Stay dead already!! - Lady Maria, probably):

So yeah, she is mocking you with a oh so sweet kiss from the Handsome Hero type as she rips your heart out (breaking it) and kills you very dead. Cause fuck the Hunter specifically.

#lady maria of the astral clocktower #bloodborne #my meta #me shaking Maria: YOU ARE SO STINKY!!! RATTY BASTARD #Also there is something to be said about how she cries out to the Moon Presence like Gehrman does when she's killed #but she never actually Made Contact with Her #Crying out to a God who is Deaf to Her #as she's dragged to Kosm Hell where she belongs!!#so yeah

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multific · 1 year

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Small Steps

Vinent de Gramont x Reader

Warnings: Talks about blood and mention of smut at the end

Summary: You and your husband have a conversation about your future.

"I want five." you nearly choked on your food as he said that.

"F-five?!"

"Exactly. Or more." the way he said it with such confidence, made you a little nervous.

"More?! What am I a machine?!" you now regretted bringing up the topic.

"Is five children a lot?" he finally looked up at you, finding your eyes as he looked confused.

"Yes! When you are the one who has to carry them and give birth! Yes, five is a lot."

"I never thought it would be, well, since you brought it up, how many would you want?"

"Two? Maybe three?" you were now nervous to answer him. Sure, you have known him for a long time, married him almost four years ago and you were rather surprised that the topic of children was never truly brought up until today.

"Okay, we could agree on three." he said turning back to his food.

"Okay."

"When?"

"Sorry?"

"When can we start trying? Do you feel ready to be a mom?"

"Oh, I think I am ready. I mean we have been together for almost seven years now, married for four and I didn't even know you wanted children." you looked at him then took a sip from your wine for courage.

"I do want children. I just never wanted to bring up the topic because I didn't want to make you feel like you have to do it for me. With my line of work, you must understand it is difficult but I'm in a much higher position now. I am at a point where I feel like we are ready and no one would hurt you or them. But if you don't feel ready, I understand."

"I will talk with my doctor, stop taking pills and we can go from there. I feel ready to have a baby." you nodded, happy that you two came to a conclusion.

"Small steps, I like that. I will go with you to the doctor."

"I mean I know he reports you every time I'm there, so you would know everything either way." you smiled and he smirked.

"Clever girl."

"I'm also pretty sure the cashier at the convenience store is one of your men."

"Paid him so he would only sell the best stuff for you."

"That explains why he wouldn't sell those bananas for me. He spent five minutes at the back looking for strawberries instead and he made sure they are ripe. It was suspicious."

"You know I just want the best for you."

"I do. And I love you for it." you returned to your pasta as he looked at you still.

"Are we really going to have a baby?" he asked, you sensed in his voice something that he never showed to others, anxiety.

"Yes. We will start trying and see when... it takes." you cringed at your own words but he found it rather amusing, judging by the smile on his face.

"I'll do some research."

"Research?"

"Of course. I never go into something without a plan."

"You don't have to plan for this." you said but you already knew he probably had ten plans ready in his head. Much like when you were engaged. He let you believe that you were the one planning things but he was behind it all from the start.

"But I do, we might need a bigger house and we have to set up their room."

"I'm not even pregnant yet. And I'm on birth control at the moment still! Also bigger house?! We live in a mansion, Vincent. What could be bigger than that?"

"A palace? A castle?" you looked at him, unamused but you could tell he was joking.

"We have twelve bedrooms."

"Then we can have eleven children." he smirked and you wanted to groan but you also found it amusing.

You hoped he was joking, the fire in his eyes did make you take a step back.

"Not my point."

"I was thinking a house which is safer. Not like our current one isn't."

"We have eight houses."

"How many rooms are there? We could fill all with a child."

"Vincent." you giggled but you did mean it as a warning.

"Okay, okay, I was thinking a slightly smaller house. So the baby can be...closer to us."

"Oh, that's sweet. We will look something up, I'm sure we can find a nice safe home."

"How about Versailles?" he suddenly looked at you, pleased with his idea.

"Y-You are NOT buying the Palace of Versailles! Also, it would be so obvious! Everyone knows where it is."

"That's the beauty in it! It's so obvious that it isn't."

"Vincent, please can we just focus on the doctor and my pills first?"

"Small steps." he nodded and soon you were having dessert.

You looked at him as he was eating his cake, he looked so calm and so incredibly handsome.

His eyes caught yours as he noticed you staring. He had a questioning look.

"Maybe... maybe five isn't that many after all. If they all look like you."

"I had the exact same thought. I was watching you at our wedding, dancing with your friends, you looked so stunning. That's when I decided that I would want as many children with you as you would like. Even if you didn't want children, I would have been okay with that." you smiled at his sweet words as his hand reached out and you gave him yours immediately.

"You sound like a love-sick teenager."

"More like a poet, you are my muse."

"Your art is death, Vincent."

"Indeed. And you would look stunning covered in blood." you smirked as you watched his eyes change. His gaze became more predatory, it excited you.

"I think we should go home." he nodded.

Maybe you were supposed to take things slow. Maybe you were supposed to take it step by step.

But as his gaze turned darker by the second all you could think about was him filling you up and whispering the dirtiest things into your ear.

Small steps can wait.

More Vincent

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

Vincent Taglist: @l4venderia

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARISE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

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megamindsecretlair · 9 months

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Midnight Sin - Chapter 4

Chapter 3 Chapter 5

Pairing: Vampire!Tyrone x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Long exposition that ends in smut. Oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving) PIV, cursing, AU Tyrone, Toxic Tyrone. Dark fic. Dirty talk. Mentions of blood, overstimulation. The concept of "rolling" is brought up when Tyrone is able to hypnotize reader, but it is consensual.

Summary: A chance meeting at a club introduced you to the enigmatic Tyrone. He was interesting in ways that you weren't expecting. Tyrone gets a visit from his brother and needs to see you to ease a little tension.

Word Count: 8,529k

Midnight Sin Masterlist

A/N: WHEW! Welcome back, ya'll. I ain't forget about our main man. I just got a little distracted. I hope this chapter makes up for the long absence. Thank you SO MUCH for all the love towards this series! It means the world to me! I don't tag ageless blogs. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! Ageless blogs get blocked.

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @nerdieforpedro @umber-cinders @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz

Tyrone

Tyrone sat in his office and flipped through his journal from his time in Versailles. He laughed at some of his entries. How young he was. How carefree. It was easier to hide during that time. No one really walked around in the day time except for the upper crust society and that was just to parade around for others.

The real happenings went on inside and in private rooms. There were other entries that he had long forgotten about. The friends he’d made. The loves he’d lost. An ache thumped in his chest and he absently rubbed it while he read.

This was the part he hated. He had loved and lost, loved and lost over the centuries. The loss became so loud that it was easier to forget. Easier to live in the moment. Easier to be a coward and hide.

However, he wrote so much shit down, he had no idea what Fontaine had been talking about. He briefly remembered the woman he shared with his brother. It ought to be criminal to forget someone that meant so much to them both, but when the years began to bleed together, he ejected core memories to stay sane.

A knock tore his thoughts from the memories of his youth. He called for the person to enter.

Slick Charles entered wearing another outfit that made him look like a rent-a-pimp. Thick black turtleneck sweater, overcoat, and boots. It wasn’t even that fucking cold in LA but you’d swear they were in the middle of the arctic with the way he dressed.

He entered with a woman trailing behind him. She looked like a cartoon with exaggerated, doll-like features. A wide smile and puffy, afro-like hair. She was dressed modern with an airy, flowery dress and knee high boots. She clutched a large purse against her body and walked in warily.

“I don’t appreciate being summoned, mu’fucka,” she said.

Tyrone grinned. “Nice to see you too, Yo-Yo,” he said. He gestured for her to sit but she just looked at his chair. So he shrugged and stood up. She moved back a step and he held up his hands.

“I need you to look into something for me,” he said.

“We agreed to leave our shit on the phone. Coming here is risky,” she said.

“Everything worth doing is risky,” Slick Charles said. He looked Yo-Yo over, clearly interested in the woman’s amazing body. Tyrone wasn’t immune to Yo-Yo’s looks, but he knew better than to even sniff in a witch’s direction. Besides, he had you and that was all he wanted.

“I can’t risk this particular thing getting out. I need that confidentiality you’re so fond of,” Tyrone said. He put his hands in his pockets and stared her down, making sure she understood the importance of this meeting.

Slick Charles closed the door and Yo-Yo jumped briefly. Tyrone sniffed but didn’t detect a hint of fear. No, Weavers didn’t fear things that went bump in the night.

“I need to know about any supernatural creatures with blood that particularly calls to vampires,” he said.

“Blood is kind of your thing,” Yo-Yo said. She walked further into the room but didn’t relax an inch. She looked around at his office, decorated in earth tones of brown and green. He had a couch, chairs, and bookshelf in the corner filled with his favorite books.

“I know. This one’s a rare creature. It seems like only I can smell it. And it…makes me want to drain it dry,” Tyrone said.

He didn’t want to admit any kind of weakness, least of all to a Weaver specifically, but he needed to know what you were. Maybe once he figured that out, he’d know how best to hide you. It was a miracle that you were able to survive so long. He wanted to keep it that way.

“You sound like you’re talking about a Bloodsinger,” Yo-Yo said. She laughed and looked at Tyrone and then Slick Charles.

“What’s that?” Tyrone asked.

“It’s a bedtime story for baby vamps and witches to explain why we hate each other,” she said. “But it’s just a story.”

“Tell it to me,” Tyrone said.

Yo-Yo shrugged. “I don’t even remember the shit, that’s how dumb it is. Something about your side used them in our war,” she said, waving her hand.

The name and description didn’t trigger anything in his brain. Then again, he’s lived so many fucking lifetimes, it was a wonder he remembered anything at all. Tyrone bent down and retrieved a briefcase from the side of his desk. He held it out for Slick Charles to take from him.

Slick Charles held it out to Yo-Yo who’s arm dropped when she held it. “This is more than my usual fee,” she said.

“I need this done fast, with discretion. Find out about that bedtime story. Spare no details,” he said.

Yo-Yo raised her eyebrow. “Are you saying you found a Bloodsinger?” She asked.

Tyrone flexed his jaw but smiled. “Call it a passing pet project of mine,” he said. He bared a hint of his fang. She still wasn’t scared but that wasn’t his intention. He just wanted her to know the gravity of the situation. She could not let this get out.

The last thing he needed was his Father catching wind. Yo-Yo nodded and hoisted the purse further on her shoulder.

“A little extra appreciation is a great motivator. Give me some time,” she said.

Tyrone nodded. “Thank you,” he said.

Yo-Yo nodded and casted a glance towards Slick Charles who stared at her like she hung the moon. “Fuck you lookin’ at, nigga?” She asked.

“Yo wig is sliding off,” Slick Charles said with a devious grin.

“Fuck you! Fake ass pimp,” she said. She rolled her eyes and went towards the door, opening it.

Poised to knock on the other side was Fontaine. He looked from Yo-Yo to Tyrone to Slick Charles. His wide nose flared as he scented the air, scenting Yo-Yo as a Weaver. He grinned, showing off his gold grills.

Yo-Yo scoffed. “Move nigga,” she said.

Fontaine made a show of stepping aside and letting her pass. “I’m Fontaine,” he called after her retreating form.

“I don’t give a fuck!” She called back. Her boots clicked away on the linoleum floor. Fontaine turned that grin on Tyrone and he fought a groan. The last thing he needed was Fontaine in his fucking business.

Fontaine stepped inside. He wore dark jeans, a black T-shirt, and a brown jacket. He dug his hands in his pockets, mirroring Tyrone. It was still fuckin’ weird looking at his face on another person. It was why he avoided his other brothers, like Father’s little lap dog Charles.

“Well, well, baby brother. The company you keep,” Fontaine said.

Tyrone glanced at Slick Charles. He got the message and moved towards the door. He left, closing it behind him. It was just Tyrone and his brother. He liked it better when the fucker was overseas.

“What are you doing here, ‘Taine?” Tyrone asked.

“Missed you, baby brother,” Fontaine said. He sat down in the chair across from Tyrone’s desk, making himself comfortable. His smile was smug. Fuck. Was this how he looked when he had the upper hand?

“Why are you really here?”

Fontaine took a deep breath. “I’m looking into what Pops been up to. I’m not sure what his plans are but he started this shit and I’ll end it. Been gone so long, started going around my old haunts. People started to think I was you.”

Shit. Tyrone sighed and sat down in his seat. He settled in since Fontaine was in such a sharing mood. If people thought Fontaine was him, there was no telling how much in his business Fontaine already was. And the nigga hadn’t been here but a half a week. There was no limit to what he’d discover.

“What do you know?”

“Heard someone’s trying to land a big hotel deal. That’d add nicely to your hospitality collection. Collecting them shits like Legos,” Fontaine said. He clasped his hands over his stomach. He was enjoying holding this shit over Tyrone’s head entirely too much.

Tyrone bared his fangs. “Tell me what you trynna say, nigga,” Tyrone said.

“Also heard someone is paying off other interested parties to outbid yo stupid ass,” Fontaine said.

“Who?” Tyrone wracked his brain for his list of enemies. His list of allies was much shorter. He could count that on one hand.

“Tell me what the witch was here for,” Fontaine said.

Tyrone rubbed his head. It took a lot more effort to get a headache as a vampire but Fontaine had an express lane to his last good nerve.

“None of your business,” Tyrone said.

Fontaine clutched his chest in fake outrage. “We used to be so close, brother,” he said. He grinned, betraying his little act.

Fontaine wasn’t going to give an inch so Tyrone sighed deeply. There were worse people to trust. For better or worse, he’d never gone to war with Fontaine over a betrayal. At the end of the day, they were still brothers. They shared the same face. To betray the other was like betraying themselves.

“About what you said about Versailles,” he said.

“Fuck outta here. They’re all dead,” Fontaine grinned and waved away Tyrone’s comments. But when he looked at Tyrone’s face, his grin dropped.

“Word? You found one?” Fontaine asked.

“Maybe. I don’t know what it is,” Tyrone said.

“You don’t remember the bloodlust or what we did?” Fontaine asked.

Tyrone leveled him with a stare and shook his head. “Spit it out, nigga,” Tyrone said.

“I forget what they’re called but they were the witches’ most powerful weapon against us. Creatures created with blood that’s irresistible to vampires. One sniff and we lose our higher functioning. We so busy feeding, the witches would come up behind us and slit our throats. It was a rough fucking few centuries. The Council ordered their executions,” Fontaine explained.

The acrid scent of fear flooded the room and Fontaine’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Tyrone and swore a mile long.

“You fuckin’ one, ain’t you?” Fontaine asked. “On the list of stupid shit, that’s at the top. Father will kill you for this.”

“Only if that nigga find out,” Tyrone said and snapped his eyes to his brother’s. He let his feelings show on his face. The lengths he was willing to go through to protect you.

Fontaine grinned. “Ain’t gon’ hear it from me. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Who’s trying to sabotage my deal?” Tyrone asked. He rubbed his head. He really needed to figure out what Yo-Yo would find out about the Bloodsingers. If Fontaine was right, you were in far more danger than just the wrong vampire scenting you. So far, it seemed like only he and Fontaine could smell you. He wanted to keep it that way.

“Issac,” Fontaine said.

“Fucker,” Tyrone cursed and sighed. He had been having trouble with Isaac running around town acting like big man on campus. The mu’fucka was a hatin’ ass nigga with nothing better to do with eternity.

If Tyrone moved left, Isaac switched lanes. If Tyrone got into real estate, Isaac was running around trying to buy up buildings Tyrone was looking into. Nigga didn’t have an original fuckin’ thought.

Fuck the wrong bitch once and he never forgave Tyrone. It took a weak person to hold a grudge for centuries. But vampires were known for their patience.

“Shoulda known that mu’fucka was on to me. I created a separate company just to get that building,” Tyrone said.

“Nigga got flies in your office. I ain’t know which ones yet. But if you quit all this animosity between us, I can keep an ear out for you,” Fontaine said.

Tyrone sighed. There it was. Fontaine never did anything out of the goodness of his own heart.

“What do you want in exchange?”

Fontaine grinned and seemed to savor the moment. He looked at his fingers. “Back my play to come home,” he said.

“What?”

“Europe is fine but it ain’t like they’re that fuckin’ friendly to niggas that look like me,” he said. He grinned and looked back at Tyrone.

“You want to come home,” Tyrone repeated. He tried to scent any deceit in Fontaine’s body but he didn’t find any. ‘Taine in the same world as him once more? It was dangerous. When they got together, they tended to end empires. Fuck shit up. Rip and run and threaten to expose their existence to humans.

“I do. And I’m tired of being banished for being me,” Fontaine said.

“Being you? You almost exposed all of us!”

Fontaine waved him off. “Maybe we need to stop fuckin’ hiding. That’s beside the point, nigga. I’m gonna find out what dear old Pops is up to and I’m gonna hold it over his head to stay here. ‘Cause whatever he’s fuckin’ up to, he sure as shit ain’t telling the Council.”

Tyrone sat back in his seat, moving side to side while he pondered Fontaine’s request. Their father was the epitome of shady. Whatever his latest scheme was, he could believe that he was doing it behind the Council’s back. All they did over the centuries was play petty games of chess with each other. No one was honest on the Council. Everyone else was just pawns in their game.

“Fine. You get my back, I got yours,” Tyrone agreed. Some part of him, in the further recesses of his cold dead heart, missed having his brother around. He wasn’t sure if they would get back to the camaraderie they had before. If they would be as thick as thieves again, but he could use an ally he fully trusted.

Fontaine smiled. “Thanks, baby brother,” he said.

Tyrone scowled while Fontaine stood up. “Keep your eye on that Isaac mu’fucka. He doing a whole lot to sabotage this deal. What makes this place so special?” Fontaine asked.

“It’s in a prime location in LA. Dead center of the Hills with an incredible view. Lap of luxury. The owner is giving carte blanche to design it according to whoever gets the deal. This type of deal? King maker,” Tyrone explained.

After so many years of living, the only thing that mattered was legacy. No one fuckin’ cared about money when you had more than enough to spend for several lifetimes. Legacy was what mattered. With no one siring natural children, name recognition was currency.

Fontaine nodded. “I’ll keep my ear to the ground. Be ready,” he said.

Tyrone stood up. “One more thing. Stop leaving your food everywhere,” he said.

“Fuck you talkin’ ‘bout?” Fontaine asked.

“You show up and now I got cops calling me about bodies turning up, blood drained. Stop leaving your food around for the humans to find. We don’t need that scrutiny,” Tyrone said.

“That ain’t me, nigga,” Fontaine said with such vehemence, Tyrone had no choice but to believe him.

Tyrone nodded. He’d have Slick Charles look into it then. If he was going to trust Fontaine, he had to take him at his word. He only hoped that it wouldn’t bite him in the ass.

Fontaine left the room, leaving his door open. Tyrone looked down at the mountain of papers he had to get through. He had shell companies on top of shell companies. This business with Yo-Yo and now Fontaine. Plus, he had to keep an eye out for Isaac’s bitch ass.

He needed a fuckin’ break. He needed you. He dialed your number and faced his window. He opened the blinds to show the busy nightlife of downtown LA. Giant neon billboards flashed with the latest bullshit to fleece the poor of the few nickels they could rub together.

You picked up on the second ring. “This is a pleasant surprise,” you answered. Just hearing your voice calmed all his nerves. His worries melted away and he found himself smiling despite himself.

“Let me take you out,” he said.

You giggled. “You don’t even eat regular food though,” you said.

“I like feeding you. Let me take you somewhere I can show yo pretty ass off,” he said.

You giggled. “Everywhere would be booked,” you said. But he could hear you shuffling around. He knew your schedule pretty well by now. You worked from home today and were likely lounging around in them little ass shorts you liked. He ought to reprimand you for keeping your blinds open inside your place. But to do that, he’d have to fess up to practically stalking you.

“Not for me,” he said.

You giggled. “Okay, where you taking me?” You asked.

“Surprise. Dress nice but not super fancy,” he said.

You sighed prettily and he found his blood heading south, remembering how he played with your body. The way you responded to his touch and kisses. He wanted to inhale you and hold you close. He didn’t care if your blood was supposed to call to him. He wanted a taste. Yearned for it.

“See you in an hour?” You asked.

“Less if I can help it,” he said and savored your laugh over the phone.

***

You

You got dressed with excited shivers running down your spine. You ran through your closet trying to find a nice date night outfit. You had plenty of options, options you had bought on shopping trips with your girls even though you had no one to take you out.

Foresight planning was a gift as you had options. You held up certain outfits in the mirrors. LA was still temperate at night, though you were approaching the months where it was hot as sin in the morning and cold as a witch’s titty at night.

You settled on a rich, purple bodysuit and sandals. You threw on a light sweater and did your makeup in the mirror while bouncing with the abject need to see this man. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this excited to see someone.

Was it simply because he was a vampire? You weren’t sure. He genuinely made you laugh and you liked talking to him. It was a different experience talking to someone so worldly. Usually the ones you found were so far up their own ass, they made your pussy drier than the Sahara.

He told you about how things changed from time to time. He literally witnessed the rise and falls of entire kingdoms. There during the most interesting points in history. It was insane. If an historian caught hold of him, you’d never see the man again.

You were fluffing out your hair when your doorbell rang. You practically skipped to the door and looked through the peephole. Tyrone stood there in a gorgeous midnight blue suit. He was thick in all the right places. His shirt bordered on obscene as the top two buttons were left undone.

He rubbed a ring on his finger as he looked you up and down, taking in your outfit. “You are breathtaking,” he said. He held out his hand and you took it. He placed a chaste kiss on your hand and you wondered if he could smell how you melted on the inside.

You hadn’t even gone anywhere yet and you were ready to turn into a puddle at his feet. You smiled and ducked your head. “You clean up pretty well yourself,” you said. He opened his arms and gripped his jacket to open it more, showing off his outfit.

“I can put a little something together,” he said. He held out his arm like an old school gentleman. He was going to kill you. You took his elbow, grabbed your clutch, and closed the door behind you.

Tyrone took you to his car, a sleek Audi Q7 in black that seemed like it was custom built just for him. He held the door open for you and you climbed in. It smelled like it was brand new and you wouldn’t put it past him if he bought the shit earlier in the day. He closed the door softly behind you and then walked around to climb into the driver’s side.

He slipped in and started the car. The display lit up deep orange and you squealed on the inside. This was the nicest car you’d ever been in. Would be the only nice car you ever got to ride in.

He pulled away from the curb and kept one hand on the steering wheel. The other, he slipped into yours and brought it to his lips while he drove. “Tell me about your day,” he said.

“I worked from home today so it was really nice to be in my own space and work at my leisure. I didn’t have to pace myself. Finished my shit by 11 and enjoyed playing hooky a little bit,” you said.

“You have to pace yourself at work?” He asked.

You enjoyed the city at night. The bright street lights washed over the car’s dark interior as he drove deeper into the city. You had no clue where he was taking you. You tried to guess even as you answered him.

“People at work hate to see a good worker succeed. If I do my work well, they want to dump more on me. Fuck that. I make myself look busy so they can leave me the fuck alone,” you said.

“That’s bullshit. You shouldn’t have to do all that,” he said.

“Tell me about it. My boss is cool but fuckin’ clueless. I’m not picking up the slack for slow niggas,” you said.

Tyrone laughed and you watched as his fangs flashed. You rubbed your thighs together, remembering how good it felt to have him bite into you and drink from you. At a red light, his eyes snapped towards yours.

“What you thinkin’ about over there?” He asked. His voice grew deeper, rougher. It only made your pussy throb harder.

“You,” you said coyly.

“What about me?” He glanced at you again before moving forward on a green light.

You were turned around now. You really had no idea where he was taking you. It was as thrilling as it was scary. You knew that he wouldn’t take you anywhere bad, but you hated not knowing. So you had control issues, sue you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you said.

“I really would,” he said.

You giggled. “Guess you’ll have to find out later,” you sang.

Tyrone sighed deeply. “Mhm, I see I’m going to have to teach you how this gon’ work,” he said. His voice promised all kinds of filthy things and you were tempted to tell him to turn the car around and go back to your place.

You weren’t prepared for him to see your space yet. You wanted to clean up a bit, tidy up other things, and make it look like you were at least a grown adult capable of taking care of yourself.

“Ain’t nobody scared of you,” you said.

Tyrone flashed his fangs. “You should be.”

Tyrone pulled up to a pinkish building that looked like someone transplanted a real Italian building. There was a water fountain with statue angels in front that Tyrone drove around. He pushed on his sunglasses and then stopped the car.

A valet strolled to the car a second later and opened the door for you. You got out and Tyrone came around the car, grabbing your hand from the valet. He handed him the keys and a rolled up bill.

“Look out for it,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” the valet said. He was a youngish man with tanned skin and long brain hair pulled into a neat bun. Wanna-be actor. Weren’t they all?

Tyrone walked you through the front door where you were greeted by a hostess in a subtle, professional black dress that still came across as sexy. She greeted you both, took Tyrone’s reservation, and bid you to follow.

You made sure to keep your face calm, but this restaurant was easily the nicest you’d ever been to. You weren’t a fancy person. You’d happily stroll by In and Out and sit your happy ass at home and enjoy it. But this?

Tyrone was setting the standard for literally any other creature on the planet. No person alive could compete with the way Tyrone treated you. It was almost literally a man in the streets, freak in the sheets situation. Did you even want to entertain someone who couldn’t get a drop of the hat type of reservation?

Inside, the colors were tastefully muted. There was enough light to see in front of you and the person next to you and still have it be intimate. Like a true night somewhere in Rome or Venice.

The hostess brought you to a sectioned off room. She held open the curtain and let you pass through. A separate dining room was back here, devoid of other people. Must be a slow night.

The hostess continued through and your mind spun with wild jokes about putting the Black folk in the back. They’d sit you next to the sink and feed you the cutoff scraps. You stifled a laugh as you continued down a short hall. She stopped near a door that had been left open. The breeze from outside caressed your face and you sighed. She bid you to go ahead and Tyrone’s hand slipped down to your hip.

He held you steady while you walked outside stepping on wide pinkish stones. There was one table set out here with two place settings, a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket, and a tall heater. There was plenty of ambient lighting so you could both see your partner and look out at the incredible view of Los Angeles.

Nothing lit up like Los Angeles when the sun finally went down and all those gold, orange, and white lights lit up the night sky like a beacon. It was the closest you felt to being in a fairytale.

Tyrone held out your chair and you sat down. He helped you scoot in and then finally sat down. A waiter appeared with tanned skin and dark black hair. He nodded to the both of you.

“I will be your server this evening. If there’s anything you need, press this. A light will turn on and I’ll be right there. Would you like a menu?” He asked with a slight Italian accent. You wanted to laugh. They really took a theme to the very end.

Tyrone turned towards you. “Do you want the asshole rich guy routine or the thoughtful one?” Tyrone asked.

You giggled. “The asshole one,” you said. Why not? You were feeling adventurous and dangerous. You were on a date with a vampire.

Since this was LA, you felt like you were in a movie. That you were the femme fatale rival lover who knows Tyrone is a vampire and wants him as is. Except, in your movie, you win in the end and the bland ass protagonist settles for the equally bland best friend and have lovely flour babies.

Tyrone grinned without showing his fangs. “No menu,” he said. He told the waiter that you wanted your favorite pasta, with salad. He guessed the salad dressing correctly. You raised your eyebrows. You weren’t convinced he couldn’t read minds.

He didn’t order anything for himself but the waiter didn’t show any surprise. He only nodded and left the balcony to you and Tyrone.

You looked out over LA and took a deep sigh. “This is insane, Tyrone,” you said.

He shrugged. “It was too late to buy out the whole restaurant, so I hope buying out the private area will have to work,” he said.

You gaped at him while he removed his sunglasses. It was harder to see color with this low light, but there was nothing human about Tyrone. He didn’t seem to mind, even as the waiter came back and poured the glass of wine that was chilling in the bucket.

The waiter left and Tyrone swirled his glass lightly. The red wine smelled heavenly, but that didn’t mean it would be good.

“You did what?” You asked.

Tyrone grinned and took a sip of the wine. He licked his lips and you fought a wave of arousal. Tyrone’s eyes only flickered towards you.

“It’s not fair that you can guess my moods like this,” you said.

“Think of all the possibilities,” he said. He tilted his head. “What if we’re playing hide and seek?”

You clenched your thighs. That…sounded like an excellent idea. “Or when we’re in public and you can’t wait to get home,” you said.

“Tease. Who says I would wait ‘till we got home? I’d fuck you any place and anywhere. I’d fuck you here too and watch you cum beneath these stars,” he said.

You were a puddle. He could probably hear your heartbeat increase too. You took a deep breath as that particular image filled your mind. That was a little too public for your tastes. But the idea had merit.

Tyrone grinned. “We ain’t gon’ get through this dinner,” he said.

You fanned yourself and leaned towards the soft breeze rather than the heat lamp. But the wind was too weak, cut through by all of the LA hills.

“We are. You didn’t spend this money for nothing,” you said.

“I spend money on nothing on the regular. At least with this, I get a beautiful view,” he said, looking at you. You tilted your head at him. He was so damn fine. That hint of a beard, sexy big lips, that wide grin. And those hands…

“No, we’re adults. We can behave ourselves through dinner,” you said.

Tyrone nodded and grinned. Topics moved on to safer and boring subjects. You discussed your respective families. That you had ties to the Caribbean but were a few places removed. Your grandmother had stories of island life from being a little girl, but her family was here in LA.

He told you about some of the lifetimes he’d lived. Some of the famous celebrities through history he’d met, plus some that should have been famous. How he helped steer the course of history in some cases.

Your food came in the middle of it, but your attention was on Tyrone and his stories. He didn’t break stride as the waiter placed your food down. The waiter moved away without another sound.

He hung around many a president trying to get them to abolish slavery or any other atrocity they cooked up. Sometimes they were ignored, sometimes they had to roll a mind, sometimes they had to kill.

“Roll a mind?” You asked.

“We can’t read minds but we are skilled hypnotists. We can make you see or feel all kinds of things,” he said.

“What sorts of things? Have you ever rolled my mind?” You asked.

Tyrone looked you in the eye. “No. I wouldn’t do that without permission,” he said.

“I’m curious about it,” you said. You wondered if he could convince you to do things. Bad things or good things.

Your mind stirred with all kinds of scenarios where you were a vampire. You weren’t entirely squeamish about blood. You’d miss food terribly. But you’d be able to move fast, super strong, more energy. The idea appealed to you strongly. You eyed Tyrone. If you asked, would he turn you into a vampire?

“With your permission, I’d do it,” he said.

“You have my permission,” you said instantly. Tyrone grinned, showing that bit of fang. You couldn’t forget that he was a vampire. In the event that you did, you weren’t stupid. You knew that he was a dangerous creature capable of snapping your neck. But you had been waiting your whole life for something cool to happen. Now that it finally did, you weren’t going to ruin it with logic. You wanted to see all of it.

Tyrone nodded and you expected him to do it then and there. When nothing happened, you smiled. “Did you do it already and I don’t know?” You asked.

You polished off your meal, not able to eat another bite. You sipped on wine.

“That’s later. When I got you spread open before me. Showing that pretty pussy. When you’re so blind with need, you’ll agree to anything. Completely at my mercy,” he said. He pitched his voice lower and you watched his lips.

Your pussy fluttered and he grinned. “You like the dark side of me.”

He didn’t say it as a question but you answered anyway. “I want to know all of it.”

“Even how many I’ve killed?” He asked.

“Have you kept count?” You asked.

He leaned back in his seat and sipped the wine. You mirrored him, finally trying it. Shit. It was delicious! The perfect mix of sweet and dry, exploding with flavor on your tongue.

“Yes. Everyone. That doesn’t bother you?”

You shrugged. “Would I get mad at nature running its course?” You shrugged. You weren’t going to compare him to a dog out loud. But would you get mad at a dog running? A cheetah with spots?

“You think vampires are natural? Not magic?” He asked.

“Isn’t magic natural too? Would it exist if it weren’t?” You asked. You smiled. Tyrone smiled.

“Okay, enough with the philosophy,” he said.

“I don’t know. I’ve always been weird about death and killing. I can remove myself from the bigness of it, if that makes sense? Otherwise it’s all I think about,” You said.

“Have you always been into vampires? Or is it werewolves and witches too?” He asked.

“Are they real too? How can you tell?” You asked.

Tyrone looked at you as if he were asking himself questions and answering them himself. It played out in his eyes. Each answer, he widened his eyes a little wider.

“Do you have magic in your family?” He asked.

You shrugged. “Not really? My grandma believed in a lot of shit,” you said.

He looked at the cityscape and you relaxed into an enjoyable silence. You liked when people could sit in silence sometimes. There was no need to force conversation during a moment of quiet.

“Let’s get out of here. I want to try something,” he said.

He stood up and grabbed your hand, pulling you to stand. He led you to the door and out of the restaurant. With every step out of there, his hand descended lower and low on your ass.

He practically had a handful as you went out the front door. He handed a valet his ticket and his car was pulled around. The valet opened your door and handed Tyrone the keys. Tyrone shook his hand, closed your door, and then climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Want to experience what vampires can really do?” He asked.

“Yes,” you said.

He leaned in conspiratorially and licked his lips. He smelled faintly like the wine you had and you leaned in closer, leaning in for a kiss. He grinned.

“I want you to be sure,” he said.

“I’m sure,” you said. He finally kissed you. You smiled.

So far, he hadn’t shown you anything to truly frighten you. You were sure in your knowledge that he could kill you at any second. And so far, his intentions were only to spend time with you and fuck you silly. And you really did love hopping on his dick.

Tyrone grinned. He put the car in drive but kept his eyes trained on you. He maneuvered the roundabout with ease and went out into traffic with his eyes on you.

You weren’t that cool. You had to glance in front of you to make sure that he wasn’t going to hit anything. He hit untold speeds, flying down the street. Your hand gripped the seat belt around your chest.

Tyrone stopped at a red light and smirked at you. “Want me to stop?” He asked.

“Don’t you dare!” You said and giggled. You heard your heart roaring in your ears. Your hands shook with adrenaline.

Tyrone licked his lips and looked down at your body suit. He reached out with his right hand to curl against your left titty. You always felt that it was your bigger side. He lightly rubbed his thumb over your nipple.

You bit your lip. You didn’t wear a bra underneath so it took no time for your nipple to pebble. He pinched your nipple and you gasped with pleasure.

The light turned green, the color spreading over Tyrone’s face briefly. He didn’t remove his hand from your titty. He was taking sick pleasure in eliciting sounds from you. He sped up, going impossibly fast.

You had no choice but to focus on his hand massaging your breast. It felt so fucking good. You didn’t really think about your boobs while having sex. The guys you dealt with weren’t sure either.

Tyrone seemed to delight in every inch of you. It was so liberating to have more than a few curves and have a man appreciate it. Genuinely appreciate it. There was no guessing his true colors. He just wanted his hands all over you.

He flicked your nipple and you finally broke into tiny, shudders that wracked your body. He breathed deeply and you wondered if he smelled how turned you were. If you were soaking through your panties.

He watched your reactions with a type of focus usually reserved to solving a puzzle. There were no words. Just your eyes on each other while he was driving a car through LA. You were breathless with exhilaration.

You knew that you finally arrived at your destination when Tyrone slowed down into a series of turns. It was an observatory but didn’t seem like Griffith. The road turned a bit rocky as he pulled up towards a cliff edge. The parking lot was empty and there were a few well placed lamps that briefly reached his car.

The jet black interior seemed to melt into the night. There was only the orange-ish light from his car’s dash. He turned the car off and the orange light faded away. The car was charged with the electricity flowing between you.

You couldn’t see him. He could likely see you though. He’d told you about how vampire night vision was basically like seeing in the daylight, except with a faint tint. You looked out of the car’s windshield. You were higher in the hills looking at LA and you sighed. It was so breathtaking.

“Remember when I said I wanted to fuck you beneath some stars?” His soft voice seemed loud in the car.

“Here?” You asked. “What about your car?” You asked.

Tyrone chuckled darkly. “I can get anything cleaned. If not, then replaced. If not, then I’ll buy a fleet of these and let you make a mess over all of them,” he said.

Your pussy clenched hearing that. You were not into other people’s money. You were independent as fuck. However, hearing that he would do such a thing was turning you on. A fleet of cars just for you to cum all over? Where did you sign up for that job?

Tyrone got out of the car. He slammed his car and opened yours a second later. Here, he didn’t have to hide. He could show off his vampire powers, moving at impossible speeds. He pulled you to the edge of the seat. You thought it might be too high but you were angled perfectly.

He faced you. There was a hint of light on his face so you could see that his focused face returned. He pushed your sweater off of your shoulders. You tossed it onto his side of the car.

He grabbed your ankle, held it over his thigh, and started to unsnap your sandals. He still held that one while he picked up the other foot to do the same thing. He tossed those onto the floor.

He grabbed the top of your jumpsuit and rolled it down. Your titties popped out and he licked his lips. The downside to wearing the jumpsuit was that he’d have to peel off the whole thing to get to your panties. Those, he rolled down your legs as well. You were completely exposed to him and the elements while he still wore his dark suit.

There was something so profoundly naughty about that. Tyrone moved forward until you were laying on your back. There was only so far you could go comfortably and not have to rest on the hard armrest. You held yourself up by your elbows while Tyrone spread you further.

He dropped to his knees, kneeling in that expensive suit, so he could bring his mouth to your pussy. He moved your legs to his shoulders. His tongue flattened against your pussy and you moaned. Your back moved off of the seat as he licked and made out with your pussy.

You didn’t stifle your moans. You let him hear how much he was pleasuring you. You let the colder air carry your moans down the mountain where no one would hear. “Oh, fuck!” You moaned.

He groaned while he ate you out. The sound sent shivers down your spine. He flicked his tongue along your seam and you shivered fiercely.

You couldn’t hold this one off. You came with a high-pitched wail. Tyrone kept flicking that sensitive clit until he suddenly withdrew. His fangs sank into your thigh and you screamed with another orgasm. Your thighs slapped against his ears and he continued to suck you through it.

You turned a pinch lightheaded when he stopped. He licked your thigh and you felt your thigh burn as magic knitted your skin together to stop bleeding. The scar would remain so that he would always know where to bite you.

Your teeth chattered as he stood up, kissing your thigh and then your belly. You weren’t cold from the air. You were freezing from him snatching your body warmth with those orgasms.

He kissed up your chest, stopping at the top to spend time licking and sucking on your nipples. His fingers played with the outer edge of your pussy before pushing thick fingers inside you.

“Oue, shit,” you moaned. “Tyrone, I-”

“Yes, you can. You can give me a few more,” he said.

“A few?” You asked.

“Mhm, a few more. You feelin’ how you grippin’ my fingers?” He asked.

“Yes,” you moaned. Heat suffused you. Your pussy throbbed. After cumming, you still gyrated on his fingers while he played with your insides. He began to curl his fingers in a come hither motion, lightly stroking you and you were another incoherent mess under his fingers.

“Don’t that feel much better? Hm, I can’t wait to feel that on this dick,” he said. He kissed up your chest, sinking his teeth into it. He pulled blood out of you, sending sparks down to your pussy.

You gripped his fingers with renewed fervor and he moaned. He pulled his face away slowly, gathering breath as if he had run a mile. He licked away the bite, letting this one completely heal.

“Been missin’ the way this pussy feels,” he said. He pulled you closer, letting half your ass lean out of the car.

He gripped his dick and ran it through your dripping folds. He bit your lip and moaned as he ran across your sensitive dick.

“Pay attention,” he said. His eyes found yours in the dark. His eyes seemed to glow with an inner light. It began to drown out everything around you. You felt like you were falling forward even though you knew you were laying down.

“Pay attention,” he said. His voice echoed in your head. You were no longer falling, you were being pulled into the depths of a red ocean. You couldn’t see to the bottom. You were suddenly in it, splashing about, screaming. Screaming for what?

“Pay attention.” You were pulled under the water. The acrid scent of copper filled your nose and you opened your mouth to scream some more. On the outside, you were quiet and you felt calmer than you ever had.

It was like all of your worries and doubts vanished, leaving your mind pleasantly empty. “Look at the stars,” Tyrone said.

You looked towards the sky and gasped. Each ball of light seemed to be on fire. And closer. Lights dancing in your eyes as if you had taken a swim on the moon with stars as your backdrop. Your vision turned watery as the majesty of it was too much to bear.

Tyrone’s dick circled your clit and you moaned painfully. You were ten times more sensitive. He skittered along nerve endings you didn’t know existed around your pussy. You felt wetter and needier, burning up with the desire to cum. It was like he was a gift from the heavens. A personal vessel for handing out pleasure like candy.

He moved into your view. You could look away from the stars, it wasn’t like his control was absolute. But the stars looked so incredible. You felt like your vision increased. That the stars were close enough to touch.

Tyrone pushed inside and you leaned up, pushing at his clothed chest. He was so damn big. Even with as wet as you were, he still stuffed you completely. You whimpered while he moved his hips, pumping into you.

This was the most intense sex you’d ever had. You’ve had sex while high and while drunk, sometimes crossfaded, and all of it paled in comparison to how sensitive you were right now. It was like you took an aphrodisiac and slowly became a vessel to receive pleasure.

He moved more easily inside of you, pumping you while you looked at the stars. You came once more, huffing and hollering until you were screaming out his name. On the heels of that one, you were screaming from another one.

Each time, the stars seemed to flare to life, growing brighter as your orgasm built inside of you. As the pressure built in your lower belly. As your clit throbbed painfully until you couldn’t take it anymore and were bursting with the power of a million suns.

Your breath was robbed from you as Tyrone leaned down and kissed you. Your lips were sensitive as well. You felt his warm lips press against yours. His hot tongue seeking and playing with yours.

He hiked your legs higher on his hips and pounded into you relentlessly. You gripped the seat cushion for purchase but it was useless. You managed to groan pathetically when he pulled out. When he slammed back in without mercy, you couldn’t breathe.

He used his hands to push your legs backwards, until you were neatly folded. Your pussy gripped him tighter at this angle and he groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder. The wet slap of his dick against you turned you on more.

Everything turned you on. The focused look on his face. Slightly smug like he knew he was killing your shit. The way his fingers gripped your thighs to the point of bruising while he rammed inside of you. You gripped onto his shoulders. Maybe if he held onto you, you wouldn’t get sucked into a black hole of ecstasy.

“Fuck, gripping’ the fuck outta me,” he moaned. The tension you sensed earlier seemed to leak out of him the longer he pounded inside of you. His face grew slack as he groaned low in his throat.

He bared his fangs and you prepared for him to bite you again. But he was content to throw his head back, push forward, and groan out his climax. The feeling of his dick twitching caused you to moan and join him.

You cried, tears running down your cheeks, as your juices mixed with his. You contracted on his dick and he groaned. Your hand dug into his chest, pushing at him, but he only leaned into it. Letting your hand slap at his chest while the pleasure was too much. Entirely too much.

“Squeeze that shit. Let me feel it. Let me feel how I make this pussy feel,” he moaned in your ear.

He nibbled on your ear while your thighs shook with the aftershocks of your orgasm. You couldn’t bear to let another one take you over. You were exhausted and exhilarated at the same time.

He moved his lips to kiss you. It was sloppy and all over the place but it was the best damn kiss of your life. Your toes curled from that alone. It was a mix of hot and sweet. Where he pressed into you as if he wanted to disappear inside of you. But his lips were soft and his tongue playing with yours.

You moaned into the kiss, contracting around him. He echoed your groan and pumped a few more times. He leaned back and spread your legs, watching himself leak out of you. You moaned as you felt his cum sliding out, sliding down your ass, dripping out of you. He licked his lips as if he wanted to soak it all up.

Instead, he pulled you into a sitting position. “Thank you,” he murmured against your lips. He gave you lazy kisses while you calmed down.

“I didn’t do anything,” you said.

“Gettin’ in this pussy is the only solution I need from now on,” he said. He dropped more kisses while running his hands all over your overheated skin. Everywhere he touched, it was like a signal went off in your brain to make you moan. Your nerves were still on fire.

You ran your hands all over his smooth figure. You couldn’t get to his skin, but it was enough to feel the promise of his muscles. You wanted more. You wanted to feel him naked on top of you. You wanted to ride him.

He grinned. “I have to keep remembering you’re human. I don’t want to break my new favorite toy,” he said. He kissed your cheek and you giggled.

“You’re so corny,” you said.

“Want me to stop rolling you?” He asked.

“Not a fucking chance,” you said. “Take me to your place,” you said. You bit your lips seductively, looking from him to where he was standing in front of you. His dick bobbed as you stared at it.

He chuckled. “As the Lady wishes,” he said.

He helped you get dressed. You opted to leave the sandals off. He tucked you neatly into the car, closing the car door. A second later, he climbed into his side. There was no way to clean up from an impromptu session so you had to sit in the evidence of your neediness while Tyrone sped through LA.

The lights whizzed by and you sat and enjoyed it without overthinking. You felt free. Wild, untamed, exotic. You didn’t want this night to end.

Masterlist | Chapter 3 | Chapter 5

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