#like why do i feel lonely for not following the life path if i followed the life path i would kill myself due to the stress and also im | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heart2beom · 1 year

Text

call you later

pairing: beomgyu x f!reader

synopsis: beomgyu swears women fall at his feet and he's in fact, single by choice—what better way to prove this to you than collecting the numbers of random people on the street?

you're in on the little fun too, until you manage to get soobin's number. because suddenly, beomgyu's a debbie downer—for whatever reason.

genre: comedy, fluff, best friends to lovers

a/n: late beomgyu bday fic...and its cheesy as hell 😭😭 anyways, nobody understands how happy i got after finding these icons, its literally perfect. this is exactly how he looks in the fic !!!! also lol this is practically me gushing over beomgyu while writing, its so self indulgent

You don't know how this became topic of conversation for the hundredth time this week. After the events of the failed attempt of trying to get your upperclassman's number, Yeonjun—Beomgyu has been talking nonstop on how he's the most qualified person in your life that could hand you flirting tips, completely dismissing the fact that he's been single for the past two years.

He stops walking when you remind him that very necessary piece of information he seems to forget a little too often. "It's by choice! I'm single by choice!" you hear him yell. You don't pay him any mind, scrolling through your phone as you continue to walk.

He catches up to you rather quickly, hands in pockets as he walks backwards facing you, brown hair prickling his eyes because of the wind. "Do you seriously believe I can't get dates?"

You shove your phone back in your pocket, providing him with your full attention.

"Would you believe me if I said yes?" you enjoy how his hand shoot up to go over his chest, fauxing hurt with a huge pout—you've been telling him he'd do well majoring in theatre arts.

"You've lost your charm Choi, your age's getting to you."

He cracks a smile of disbelief, before continuing on, "I'm twenty-one not eighty-one knucklehead."

Beomgyu turns from facing you, walking by your side again. He clicks his tongue before saying, "You'd think that the closest people to Beomgyu would know him by now."

"Oh no, you're speaking in third person again." you whine.

He'd do this entire thing of narrating his life when he deems it necessary—which really should be never. It's also another reason why you're convinced theatre is his second calling—second to his very dramatic declaration of love to music.

"Yeah, because my best friend in the entire world thinks I'm a loser!"

He wasn't too far off. "Okay, I'll be honest. I do think you're a loser—"

"You're a loser." he retaliates.

"I was just about to compliment you!"

"How was I supposed to know? You don't follow an insult with a compliment, that's like, against the rules of socializing!"

You opt to narrow your eyes at Beomgyu instead of replying, taking the silence route. Beomgyu returns your glare, before huffing.

A few steps without anyone speaking until, "The compliment..." he mutters around a fake cough.

You snap your head to the brunette, lips slightly parted at his shameless attempt of getting a compliment. You punch his shoulder lightly before laughing a little in disbelief but also in a familiar knowing way—Beomgyu's always been like this.

When he gives you a shrug paired with childish pout as to say 'it wouldn't hurt', you give in, sighing. "I was about to say that I think you're handsome but you ruined that dipshit."

It's quiet again, and usually, you'd look to your side, trying to relish in your friend's reaction — it's always so reactive, animated in a way that makes the receiving end feel happy despite the context — but you don't, instead, your eyes were focused on the path you were walking on. It was wide, the greenery of spring occupying both sides, aftermath of the disastrous, lonely winter completely dissolved.

"You do?"

You almost laugh before his tone set on you a little more; his voice was lower, and you felt his eyes hesitantly looking at you, almost like he's genuinely looking for your affirmation.

You choose to look back at him, pursing your lips as you pretend to study the features you've grown accustomed to for the past five years.

You do think he's handsome—it's a given, even now, his bare skin devoid of any noticeable acne scars, lively and clear, his lashes—though a contrast to his boyish charm—so pretty and long you often find yourself feel a little envious whenever your finger would brush over them in awe. And god, if you could even begin to describe the way his lips—

He scoffs, turning away from your stare, pulling you out of your own thoughts. You blink a few times, before also tearing your eyes from the man walking beside you.

You went on too long without saying anything, how embarrassing. Clearing your throat you say, "I do."

He sighs. "You took too long to say that, I don't believe you."

You roll your eyes—you know what he wants. "I think you're handsome, Beomgyu."

You're not taken by surprise when he throws his arm over your shoulders, a teasing smile annoyingly plastered on his face as he shoves it a little too close, forcing you to look at him — you wouldn't complain anyway. "Awe, is little Y/N realizing Beomgyu's the love of her life, her soulmate, her beloved—"

"You're pushing it," you whine trying to push his face away, though the smile on your face is hard to hide. "I just called you handsome, it's not like I'm blind."

To the wanderers around you, the ones sitting on benches enjoying the view of cherry blossoms, they'd assume Beomgyu was your boyfriend with the way he had his arm comfortably laying off your shoulder.

"I'm not just a pretty face Y/N. In fact, I'm so cool that I could get the number of the first girl that passes me."

"No, no you couldn't."

Beomgyu naturally takes this as a challenge when he scoffs, finally removing his arm from you, "Watch me."

That's how it started. The ten minute stroll to get the park's infamous ice cream turning into something way bigger than it originally was.

"Her." you say, one hand on the rough bark of the tree you both were hiding behind, another used to discreetly point at the woman who had a child on her lap, clearly busy as she yelled on the phone.

Beomgyu was directly behind you, his head over yours, as he tries to get a good look of who you were pointing at.

"Are you crazy? She has a kid!" he whisper shouts, though the situation really didn't call for it. The woman was at the least three yards away from the tree you guys were behind.

"I thought love knows no bounds."

That seems to get him, using his beloved philosophy against him.

"It—it does if she's married!"

"You're so traditional. People can raise their kids on their own."

When he doesn't budge, unconvinced of taking such a chance, you turn to face him. Which is a mistake because now you realize how close he was. You clear your throat, dismissing the way the proximity was weirdly effecting you. "You lost. Bet's done."

"What? No! I have seventeen numbers and you have like...five. You lost, fair and square."

"This isn't fair! You made me ask an old man for his number, I had to stay there for twenty entire minutes just so he could type it in!"

"I'm not going Y/N, nothing you can do can convince me." he says, eyes shut as he childishly crosses his arms, head turned to the side, chin up high.

You glare at him before shoving your hand down your jeans pocket for spare change—surprisingly feeling paper. When you pull out the mysterious object, your eyes widen at seeing a twenty dollar bill. You've never gotten this lucky before!

It was too late to shove it back in because Beomgyu opens an eye to peek at what you were doing, noticing the bill you had in your hand.

You look at the boy, who was wide-eyed, then back to your very lucky money. "Fuck..." you groan, slapping the bill on his palm, internally mourning the loss of your money.

"You work miracles Y/N." he says cheekily. You deadpan, which gets the man holding up his hands as defense, flashing the money he just got out of you, with a teasing smile before he proudly turns to approach the woman.

Was that even worth your money?

Chewing slightly on your bottom lip, you observe through narrowed eyes—you can't really make out what he's saying, but the woman's brows were furrowed. Not a good sign.

A smirk makes way on your face as you lean against the tree, arms crossed.

Beomgyu still wears a smile, saying something again. You think that's the end of it, he apologized for bothering her and failed— but that isn't what happens.

Your smirk slowly falls when you see him typing something in his phone.

There's no way.

Before leaving, he gives the kid on the woman's lap a high five.

No way.

"You got her number?!" you shout in disbelief when he's finally in front of you.

"Keep it down!"

You're impatient, waiting for his response to your question, but with the way he had his chin raised proudly, hands in pocket, you got the answer.

You blink a few times, trying to piece your shock together. "But how? She's married! She—"

He gasps before pointing an accusatory finger at you. "I knew you saw that ring! You were trying to embarrass me!" you don't reply, instead just crossing your arms, huffing. "But see who came out on top? This guy." he turns his finger from you to himself, a smile of accomplishment spread on his face.

"Okay, I get it. But is she seriously cheating on her spouse while having a kid? That's fucking messed up."

"I just asked her where I could get the best cakes. She said BonBon's Bakery, which is, like, thirty minutes away."

You narrow your eyes, mouth wide—he can't just do this! "You didn't get her number! You—you tricked me!"

"Yes I did, and I'm proud." He says, walking to go behind you again, searching for your next victim.

You sigh, "Why'd you ask that anyway?"

"What, the cake? Because my birthday's soon idiot."

Oh yeah, his birthday.

"Go up to... the the blonde one! Wait, no, nevermind."

You furrow your brows, "Why'd you just take that back?"

He's quick to reply, "No reason. Oh! Go up to him."

You don't bother to look at who he was pointing at now, instead focusing your attention on the blonde Beomgyu had previously pointed at.

He had a pair of sony headphones, walking, eyes glued to his phone. "Soobin." the name slips out your lips absentmindedly as your eyes follow his figure.

"The random guy I'm pointing at is Soobin?" Beomgyu asks scratching his head, playing dumb.

No, the random guy he's pointing at is a middle aged man with a bald spot. You get into action, quickly walking at the direction of Soobin, who was by now, very far.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Beomgyu's hand is on your wrist, making you turn your head back to him. You tilt your head. "Going up to Soobin and getting his number?"

He breaks into an uneasy smile. "But you know him. That's an unfair advantage."

"I don't know him, you know him. I'm playing on fair grounds." you say, a little confused on why he was caring about advantages anyway—Beomgyu had double the numbers you had, he was winning.

When he doesn't let go, you decide to just shake his loose hold on you, chuckling awkwardly, giving him one last look before trying to catch up to the blonde.

Beomgyu never felt so much nervousness as he waited behind the tree, watching the scene unfold between you and his other best friend, Soobin.

His eyes fall down to see the scattered dandelions in the grass. He gulps before quickly bending down to pluck one out. It's a little childish—the way he holds the flower close to his lips, blowing air with all his force, making sure the dandelion is devoid of any white fluff. Wishing that your beyond terrible flirting skills would be so unflattering that Soobin would reject you.

Which is not the case.

When Soobin bashfully waves, a small smile on his face as he turns away from you, walking away—Beomgyu finds out at the age of twenty-one, that wishing upon a dandelion was a hoax. It's further rubbed in his face when you skip towards him, a wide smile on your face.

He drops the dead flower, pursing his lips as he steps on it.

"Guess who just got a number." you sing-song, waving your phone at him.

"Haha, congrats." he manages to smile, rolling his eyes.

"I'm going to catch up to you and win, be scared." you threaten though, your tone a little too excited, full of pride. Was this how Beomgyu felt on an hour basis? Because god, does it feel great.

"I think we should stop here for today."

You snap your head to Beomgyu, brows furrowed. "What? No!"

"We've been here for more than two hours, my legs are tired." he whines with a pout.

You take notice of your surroundings— the once blue sky was now a deep shade of orange, the park was a lot more empty, only a couple people walking down the path.

Yeah, you should definitely go home now.

"We're ending this formally tomorrow, 6PM sharp. Whoever has the most numbers gets fifty from the loser."

He nods before holding out his hand. "Deal."

You shake it, "Deal."

Though you smiled, you couldn't help but feel as if Beomgyu's mood had taken a complete 180.

You dismiss it—he probably is just tired.

Movie Sundays—epitome of the typical movie nerd enthusiasts gathering around one TV screen on a specific day, in a specific time and binging 70's shit that is no longer relevant in today's society.

When you open your door, it's typical Beomgyu with his plaid shirt over his plain white one, barging into your apartment like he was your roommate and comfortably following through his usual routine.

"Take off your shoes you hooligan." It's a little ridiculous how often you have to remind him, but that seems to be apart of the routine too.

"It's literally just crocs."

"Yeah, crocs that stepped in dog shit on the way here."

"You're so dramatic." he mumbles, but still takes them off anyway. You would've shot back with a 'funny coming from you' but routine calls, so, you let him go.

You go to your bedroom, fetching a couple pillows before going back to the couch.

Movie Sundays often ended with both of you losing track of time, slipping into deep sleep the moment the clock struck midnight.

It was never your intention to make this movie ordeal into a sleepover on your couch, but that's usually what ended up happening, so preparing for it is always a good idea. Waking up with sore necks proved to be the official worst way to start a day—you'd know.

It's also the reason why Movie Sundays are now held on Saturdays—the change being made around three years ago. It's ridiculous, some would think that by now, you'd call it Movie Saturdays but Beomgyu said that it'd 'take away the magic' if you did — whatever that meant.

"Did you run out of water bottles?" he yells from the kitchen.

"I don't know, check the fridge!"

Beomgyu was tasked with getting the snacks and some water, you didn't have to do much compared to him but he seemed to enjoy getting the autonomy so nobody minded.

"Your fridge is so dystopian." Beomgyu comments, plopping beside you on the couch, throwing you a packet of cheespuffs.

"Wow, how incredibly nice of you to say as a guest."

"I'm being serious though, you have ten rows of mountain dew and ...one egg carton? You're like the stereotypical college student"

You're focused on finding something to watch instead of paying any mind to Beomgyu's rambles—who really tended to say anything. Like right now, when he pinches your cheek seemingly out of nowhere.

"You're so cute." he coos like you were a newborn baby—it truly felt as if Beomgyu was experiencing effects of anesthesia during the process of you finding a movie. You send him a death glare but that only spurs him on as he whines, "See? That was so cute"

You ignore him, finally making the decision of what movie could start off your move marathon. You nudge his shoulder, tearing his attention from his phone. "Hey, how about this one?"

The good thing about picking Beomgyu for your movie ventures was that you guys had similar tastes.

Romcoms. The classic cliched genre that is filled with the worlds cheesiest tropes.

"Yeah, that's good."

Usually it'd start off with Beomgyu making comments every few minutes, but then they'd die down after the third movie which is exactly why you leave the best movies for last—his yelling would've destroyed your watching experience.

Beomgyu tended to be the one laying his head on the armrest so it didn't take long for his leg to be sprawled on top of your lap—serving as a blanket for you.

You don't mind, focused on the scene playing until the buzz of your phone catches your attention. You hesitantly look at your phone, then Beomgyu, then your phone.

It was like an established rule to be off phones when Move Sundays was in motion, it's just that nobody had decided to say it aloud. But the whines that would come from one person when the other was busy on their phone during a movie served as enough reminder that using your phone was frowned upon.

But you couldn't help it. You've been expecting a call from Soobin for the past week, the day you got his number long over. Any notification from your phone tempted you. Foolishly you'd think it was finally Soobin, but that was never the case.

You were starting to believe that he didn't straight up reject you because of his politeness—which really just felt like shit. Were you seriously that pitiful?

Those thoughts dissipate into nothingness when you see the text notification on your lock screen. Texts from someone you've been readily expecting for the entire week.

[soobin, now]: hi :)

[soobin, now]: sorry for not calling or texting you i was just...

When you click on the notification, you expect to see that the end of the text is 'busy' or something of the sort but instead it's...nervous.

Sorry for not texting you I was just nervous? Why would he be nervous?

You can't help but snort, the ends of your lips curling up at the text.

Before you could quickly come up with a response, Beomgyu's face is right next to yours, narrowing his eyes at your phone screen.

"Who're you texting?"

"Fuck!" you shout, instinctively throwing your phone in shock. Thankfully, the phone lands on a chair instead of the floor, and your breathing is back.

You snap your head to Beomgyu to give him a piece of your mind but then... you remember you technically were the one breaking the unsaid rules of Movie Sundays. You collect your anger, sighing before you hold up a tight lipped smile, "It was an emergency."

When he quirks an eyebrow, you further continue to add onto your lie as you go to get your phone. "My grandpa got a heart attack, it's insane."

He rolls his eyes. "You have a grandpa named Soobin?"

Of course he was fast enough to read the contact name.

"Why'd you even ask if you knew?" you ask, sitting on the couch with your phone in hand.

He ignores your question, eyes focused on the TV. "Just put your phone away, you can text him back later."

You give him a look before shutting off your phone and crossing your arms as you tune back into the movie. Or at least somewhat. You're not sure what's up with Beomgyu and the mention of Soobin—at first, you think it's because they had a fight, but you saw them hanging out just fine the other day.

It was weird, but you shake your head out of your own thoughts, dismissing the boy's crankiness as something you really just made up in your head.

That is, until you decide to check your phone again while he goes through a catalog of movies.

"Are you guys dating?"

The sudden question paired with a dry laugh of his own makes you furrow your eyebrows, clicking on your phone to close it. "Hey, what's your problem?"

"What do you mean what's my problem? I don't have any problems."

You roll your eyes, groaning a little. "Did you guys fight or something?"

"No."

You peer at him for a second, urging him to add something more. It works, as his eyes look at you for a second before going back to the TV. He shrugs, "I don't know, it's just weird."

"What is?"

"You getting close to Soobin."

You're even more confused now...wouldn't someone want their best friends to get along? And be friends?

"I don't get it..." you mumble, still looking at him as he avoids any sort of eye contact. "How's that weird?"

He sighs, shoulders slumping. "He likes you."

When you don't respond, he continues, feeling his mouth dry the more he says it, "Like, like-likes you. He says it's love at first sight."

Ever since his best friend had personally confided in him that he might have the biggest crush on his other best friend, A.K.A the love of his life, Beomgyu had done everything in his power to keep you from formally meeting the blonde. Which included a lot of running and a lot of excuses he had to keep up with.

One, because Soobin was totally your type—Beomgyu would know. Two, because he doesn't think he can survive you falling in love with his best friend. It'd be the ultimate awkward situation. Third wheeling would be his daily routine, and it sends him shuddering at the thought.

You laugh, still trying to piece the information together. "What? Wait. How—why is that weird? I mean, okay. He likes me, so what?"

Beomgyu snaps his head to you, almost as if to tell you 'you should know why!' but he quickly controls his facial expressions because you don't know why. Instead he just opts to pout as he tries to explain. "It's weird because—because, like...um..."

"You're—you're going to hurt his feelings just because of a stupid challenge, that's very cruel Y/N." he says, childishly crossing his arms.

"I'm not going to hurt him...you know I'd never do that!"

"Well, you don't feel the same way he does. It'd be like you're leading him on."

"I mean...I can feel the same way he does, if time allows. I think he's pretty cool, seriously." You try to reassure him, but it has the opposite effect. Beomgyu's eyes droop, almost resembling one of a puppy as he looks up at you.

"You—you like him?"

"I said I think he's cool dummy. And that I think I can learn to like him."

"That's not how liking people works."

You barely control the urge to roll your eyes as your phone was above your face, scrolling through your social media mindlessly. "Sure it does. Taking the time to know someone is basically learning to like them."

It's silent as Beomgyu finally picks a movie, the familiar soundtrack giving you the hint that it's West Side Story.

"Well, maybe you could learn to like me too." It was barely audible over the movie playing but you still heard it, the quiet mumble from Beomgyu, concealed with a slight pout.

Your mouth parts a little snapping your attention from your phone to the brunette next to you, "Huh?"

"Huh?" he returns your gaze with wide eyes, fauxing innocence.

"Beomgyu, you just said something. Say it again." You sit up straight, your posture a little more fixed.

"I didn't say anything, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Beomgyu!" you yell flailing your arms around, with your brows furrowed, and that makes him jump a little, flinching. "Repeat what you said!"

"No!"

You pull out the pillow behind you and threaten to hit him by raising it over his head which gets him talking. "Okay! Okay, hold on!"

"First, put that down!" he yells dramatically referring to the pillow—arm shielding his face.

You reluctantly oblige, slowly lowering your pillow.

When both of your breathing starts to steady, Beomgyu speaks up. "This is not how I planned on telling you—"

"Just say it Beomgyu."

"Okay, look—" he takes a deep breath in, "Imagine there's a totally different dimension. You've known this friend for five years or so—"

"So... you."

"Not me! Just, just imagine someone else." you roll your eyes, trying your hardest to keep your urge to smile down, you've watched enough romcoms to know where this was going.

He continues. "And that friend tells you that 'haha, I'm totally in love with you'. How would you respond? Like, rhetorically."

You sigh, deciding to go along with him. "Rhetorically..." his ears perk up, you could either crush his dreams or—

"...I would reject that friend."

"Oh..oh! Oh yeah, totally. That makes sense—"

"Because they're someone else, not you."

It falls quiet as Beomgyu blinks a few times, processing what you just told him. "What?"

You give him a smile before turning to the TV screen, "I like you too."

He also turns to face the TV, lips parted ever so slightly before he just breaks into a smile, biting down on his bottom lip, trying to contain his squeals.

It was so intune with your friendship for both of you to just sit there after confessing your love for the other, watching the movie you've both watched a hundred times before, in silence as the clock almost struck midnight.

It wasn't anything dramatic, just two people silently enjoying the tragic love story between Maria and Tony while snacking.

Beomgyu thinks you don't notice, but your eyes still catch how his fingers slowly 'walked' to yours, nearing them inch by inch and finally holding them. You laugh a little at how how silly it was, and he does too in reaction—contrasting to the scene currently playing, the death of multiple beloved characters finally occuring.

Your eyes lazily look over at your clock, then you smile looking at the boy next to you. "What's your wish? It's almost your birthday," you manage to say, fighting through your sleep.

Beomgyu is also clearly on the same wavelength as his voice is hoarse, barely hearable, "My wish..."

"Kissing you?"

Your smile grows bigger— god, he was so cheesy. "Come here you big baby."

"That's so unsexy... don't call me big baby when I'm about to give you the best french of your life..."

You laugh, hitting his chest lightly. "Okay, okay I promise I won't."

When he nears your face, the movie in the background playing lines you both could recite by heart, he cups your cheeks, breathing a little unsteady, before smiling. "What?" you whisper.

"I don't think this is a dream."

You look into his eyes for second before deciding to go in first, catching his lips with yours. It's like a small peck, soft and slow as your hand find themselves tangled in his hair. You pull away for a second, looking at his lips then his face, "Yeah, I don't think it is either."

ending a/n: you finished!! i didn't do the usual and ask you to reblog in the beginning, but i'll do it here hehe, reblogging [the little sign by the heart button] helps push this fic!

it's like the main thing that helps me out and its what tumblr's algorithm picks up on!! that said, i'd love to hear your thoughts on this, i love writing best friend!gyu ><

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ja3hwa · 1 year

Text

Day 25 : Manhandling/Strength Kink - Yunho

「Title」 : Figure You Out

「Word count」 : 2.71k

-> Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst, Mafia Au

Paring: Mob Boss!Yunho x Reader

[Warnings] : Mention of mafia work. Daddy issues. Mention of death. And dead husband.. Insecurities. San and Wooyoung have a little cameo. Making out. Hickeys. Fingering (f receiving). Some clit play. Panties breaking. Beefy 6'5 Yunho (cause that's a warning). Soft but rough sex. Emotions are all over the place and it's just a big mess. Dirty talk. Swearing. Sir kink. Sub reader. Soft Dom Yunho. Slight choking. Let me know if I missed anything.

Note: Since a lot of people wanted a part 2. Hwre ya go ♡♡

February Filth Fest Event Day Calendar

Reader Part One -> [Here]

You couldn’t understand why you were tossing in your sleep, unable to find a peaceful slumber. Opening your eyes suddenly, you look around the dark room. Sweat covered your body making your bed sheets stick to your flesh. Thoughts were running on overdrive in your brain. You couldn’t help it. Once you realized that you want the only thing you’ve only known and seen in your life it scared you… A relationship that your father has. Unloving. Being thrown around and manhandled. It shocks you. You tried so hard to be different, not following the path of your family. But yet you seem to crave the cruel side of life. Maybe you were more like your father than you wished.

“Miss Park…” You heard a small voice echo beyond your bedroom door. The door opens ajar, letting the light from the outside pool inside. You hummed letting the person who owned the voice know your presence. It still felt weird, to hear people reference you by your born name again. Park… Not Kim. It almost made you feel like you were widowed. Well, I guess that wasn’t so far from the truth.

“I heard a commotion. Are you okay ma’am?” The fragile little maid that normally cleans the house while everyone is sleeping, comes in with concern on her face. You felt embarrassed really, she must have heard your night terrors.

“I’m fine. Just a bad dream.” Your voice was groggy, scratchy like you’d been screaming for hours.

“Would you like me to find Mr Jeong? His meeting should be finished―Oh no, no that won't be necessary.” You cut her off with a small―but fake―smile. She nodded with a slightly breathy ‘okay’ before taking her leave. And like that, you were in the dark again, quiet, lonely.

“Fuck….” You mutter under your breath, leaning over to grab your phone on the side table. It was three in the morning and you spot a miss call from none other than your father, probably wanting to discuss the fact you disappointed him yet again. Staring up to the ceiling for a moment you decided whether to bite the bullet or not, calling him back… You lazily throw your phone behind you, choosing to let him wait.

You slip on some pants before heading out the door. Walking down the hall you find yourself at the door of the large meeting room. You knew Yunho was inside, hearing banter coming from behind the oak framing. You wanted to see him, seemingly craving his touch. It's only been a couple of weeks since the night at the gala, and you still haven't made anything official. You needed to stay at your estate until you could tell your family you weren't planning on marrying Lucas. Even though you both would have loved to move in together straight away, having these ‘sleepovers’ seemed like the only option for the moment.

Reputation was something everyone cared about in this field. And being painted as a slut while Yunho would be painted as a homewrecker. Neither of you wanted that. So why were you standing out the door of a meeting room filled with gang members that would spill your secret the minute they found out? You couldn’t answer that question even if you tried.

“This is stupid.” you chuckled. Were you really that desperate for him that you were going to expose yourself? You just might be. But before you could do anything the door opened, revealing a tall slim man with dark-pitched hair. His features were one of a feline description. His eyes creased with half moons as a smile grew on his face. You gulped taking a step back slightly from him.

“Well hello there.” He bent down slightly so he could take a better look at you. His eyes racked over your form making you slightly uncomfortable, but he stood back within the second, fixing his tie as he stood up straight. “So this is the one huh?”

Before you could even say anything Yunho steps out from behind him. A smile painted him, with a loving glint in his eyes. He pushes passed the other man, hooking his arm around your waist. You were a bit shocked at his bold movement but your anxiousness dies when another man speaks.

“So this is the woman that has captured our leader's heart.” A Shorter more giddier man cheered from behind the two. You looked up at Yunho seeing a grumbling expression suddenly appear on his face. His grip was tighter on you, pulling you closer. Your hands land on his chest feeling yourself slightly trip. you were becoming slightly overwhelmed, especially when you realise you were underdressed. God, you feel dizzy.

“Let’s give my girl some space huh?” Yunho pushes his members away, walking back down the hall with you while they all started yelling, asking questions about you and dropping phases along the lines of ‘but I want to know the details’, ‘do you treat her well?’ and more mumbles that were merely not safe for work. But you couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the hand wrapped around your hips and the other closed around your wrists. His grip was strong and the tug on your body was enticing. Your body was craving more, to be roughed with. What was wrong with you?

You rip your wrist from his hand and he lets go easily with a slight stab in his heart. He felt like he might have hurt you as if you’d just slapped him non-verbally. Both of you are in shock at your reaction, not knowing what came over you.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks quickly and sincerely. God, you don’t deserve him. What have you ever done to deserve him?

“Yes, I’m okay,” you answer softly. “I just… I,” You trail off realizing you can’t find your words. What do you say? I want you to treat me like all those other men? I want you to throw me down and fuck me? Hah! You can’t. But it's Yunho. He wouldn’t hurt you even if you asked. Would he? He walked ahead of you opening the door to the bedroom but not going inside. Instead, he stood by the door, waiting for you with a hand out for you to take.

“Whatever you want.” You took his hand and he pulled you slightly. “Whatever you need.” he kissed your forehead. “ I’ll make it happen.” Silence fell as he tugs you inside, closing the door behind you. You placed your hand on his cheek, looking at him with tears threatening to escape. A smile broke on when a tear fell, making him surge with worry, but it soon fell away when you whispered.

“I want to be loved. I want to know what that feels like.” You lent into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist. He strokes your head softly, swaying you slowly, comforting you.

“I can do that.” He whispered in your ear.

“But,” You pull away slipping your fingers through the button loops of your sleep shirt, unbuttoning them while staring at him. “I want to feel the cruelness.” The fabric slips off your shoulders before it falls onto the floor leaving your top half bare. His expression turns to one of filth and lust, curiousness wonder as to what you might be up to.

“What are you saying, doll?” He tilts his head, licking his lips. His gaze watches your body as he steps closer to you, but you step back, until the edge of the bed hits the back of your legs.

“I want to feel something. Anything. Even if its pain.”

Oh, your words just clicked something in him. His heart quickened, and his breathing hitched. As if you couldn’t get more perfect because even though you thought he was soft and caring, he did, after all, have a dark side. A cruel side. That’s what made him the perfect leader in one of the best gangs in Seoul. He didn’t speak, not when excitement riddled his nerves, instead he bent down wrapping his arms around your legs. Lifting you up before throwing you lightly on the bed. You gasped at his actions, watching as pillows bounced off and the sheets crumpled under your body. He chuckled watching your expression change from desperation to slight shock. He took off his suit jacket and belt swiftly. His eyes never left yours. He tilted his head upwards in a bob motion, gesturing for you to take the rest of your clothes off. And of course, you listen, hooking your fingers under the hem of your sleep shorts. But you leave your panties on, crossing your legs with a smirk. If he wanted them off, he’d have to take them off himself.

“I’ve been thinking…” He slipped his shirt off, leaving himself in only his boxers. “about all the little things that you've been missing” He crawled onto the bed sitting on his knees just by the edge, just watching you with an unreadable expression. He leaned forward slowly, like an animal stalking his prey. His fingers wrapped around your crossed ankles before he harshly tugged them on either side of his thick thighs. You slide fast against the silk sheets until your ass gently hits his knees.

“Hi.” He leans down so his face is inches from yours.

You blushed, biting your lip. You wrap your legs lazily around his waist before whispering “Hi..”

His lips locked on yours, it was slow, loving. Something you aren't used to, but yet it felt familiar. It felt safe. He leaned more into the kiss, moving so he was completely over you, his body grinding into yours. You hummed at feeling bucking your hips up slightly. He matched your movements, feeling himself get hot and bothered by it. Teeth clashed and tongue danced. His hand travels up your body before grabbing yours. Fingers intertwined together and moans grew louder making him want more. He wanted to be sweet and cruel, cause why not? He can do both. And he knows you’d love both. His free hand moved to grab the hem of your panties pulling them away from your skin before letting go, making the band snap against your flesh.

“Yun…” You moan tilting your head back, letting him latch his lips on your now-exposed neck. He sucked in a few hickeys, littering your soft skin with bright marks. Marks to show you were his. His fingers that are still hooked around your panties suddenly tug again but only this time, you hear a tear. Then a snap.

“Whoops.” He chuckles sliding the broke fabric off your body. You whimpered at this, seeing the veins on his arm. He could snap you in half if you tried hard enough and it made you wet just thinking about it. He sat up, getting off the bed completely, his boxers falling off as soon as his feet hit the ground. You sat up slightly yourself, leaning on your elbows as you watch him. “Move forward, now.”

His dominating voice enticed you, making you move forward slowly, but it seemed too slow for Yunho to take, grabbing just one ankle this time, he yanked you with force until your legs dangled over the end of the bed. His strength showed no bounds, making you question just how strong this man actually was. But that was a conversation for another time. Right now, the big beefy mob boss, watched you with fire in his eyes as he got down on his knees in front of you. His large hands gripped the back of your thighs so he could place your legs on his shoulders. The position made you feel light-headed, him being face to face with your pussy.

“I could love you with my eyes closed.” His sombre voice melted your heart, while his fingers that ran over your clit set a fire to brew in your gut. His tongue licks up your slick as he pushed two fingers inside you. You wanted to cry out, scream for him. Grabbing his hair, your body shook at his thrusts.

“I could kiss every part of your body, blindfold. And I’ll still find the parts you need me to touch most.” He wanted, no, needed to tell you how much you mattered to him. Show you how much love he wanted to give to you. Make you feel what he feels. That he’s the right man for you. The right person to love and hold you. The right person to marry.

“I have you figured out.”

You came all over his face when his thumb pushed just the right amount of pressure on your clit, making you gasp out for air. Yunho sat up without you noticing, and it wasn’t until you felt his hand graze your hips that you opened your eyes to see him towering over you. He flipped you without a sweat, pulling your ass up while your face lands on the mattress with a huff. He rubs your cheeks before giving them a slap making you grip the sheets below you while chanting his name.

“You like that Darling? You like it rough?” he slapped your redding skin again. You couldn’t answer him with words, instead, you moaned louder, arching your back so your ass would rub against his cock.

“P-Please Sir….” You didn’t mean to drop the pet name but it slipped off your tongue before you had time to think. Yunho seemed to like the nickname cause the moment he heard it leave your sweet lips, he trusted deep inside you without a second thought. His hand snaked under your body, gripping the front of your throat. He pulled your body upwards your back was flushed against his chest. His grip was tight making your head spin in the best way as the snap of his hips started to make you see stars. He had such a tight hold of you that even when your body started to feel limp, you wouldn’t move from his grasp.

“My baby, and here I thought you were innocent. It seems I got myself a filthy little wife.” He grunts in your ear making you cry out. Tears broke down your face and you feel another high coming to pass, but your brain couldn’t help but replay the words that slipped off his tongue.

“W-Wife…” You whined.

“Yes, Doll. My wife. Come tomorrow I want to propose to you, properly. Tell the world about how I shall make you my wife.” the snap of his hips come to a stop, suddenly letting go of your body, making you fall onto the bed. He flipped you over again before lining his cock with your soaked pussy, slipping in with ease. His pace was faster, and the sounds of wet skin and moans filled the room. And a sudden sound of…. wood?

You tilted your head seeing a huge spilt in the headboard. Yunho seemed to notice as well as his thrusts got hard. your hands fly to his biceps that were on either side of your head, nails digging into the flesh, threatening to draw blood. Your emotions were on overdrive, feeling yourself getting lost in complete ecstasy.

“Y-Yun I gonnn…gonna- I know baby, together okay.” He cut you off, locking his lips against yours once again. The knot in your stomach finally snapped and you tipped over the edge. Yunho wasn’t far behind, feeling his load shoot out inside you with a couple more thrusts. With each breath, his hips got slower and slower until falling to a stop. He didn’t pull out though, instead, he focused on kissing every part of skin he could reach. You lay there, letting him have his way while you feel like you are near passing out.

“You with me darling?” His voice was so soft and quiet you almost missed it, but you hummed in response once you heard him.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you…” You blurted out in between pants.

Yunho sat up coming face to face with you, gazing at you with passion, “I think I’ve fallen in love with you too…”

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soapymansuds · 28 days

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Eternity and Counting

Pt.3

(Pt1, Pt2)

(I am SOOOOOO sorry I didn't post on Tuesday. Full honestly, I forgot. But today's chapter is a touch longer than usual as an apology. And by just a touch, I mean almost double the length of both previous chapters<3)

Obey me! X Angel!MC (They/Them Pronouns)

TW: Suicide, depression, self-deprecation, death, big feelings, lots of sad.

MC just can't handle anything anymore and takes their own life. Imagine their dismay to find even death isn't the end for them.Keep reading

~/\~

Since that day, my life, or afterlife I suppose, has been relatively simple. When I'm not resting in the garden, I'm running small errands for Michael. It's easy enough to avoid recognition here, but for the sake of my peace of mind, I wear a cloaking spell whenever I'm out. Simeon agreed not to tell anybody about my presence, and in exchange, he asked that I let him join me on my errands, even if he doesn't recognize me. He claims I could have any face in all three realms, and my presence would still bring him comfort. Sometimes he brings me updates on how the others are doing. Usually, he talks about Luke and his growth. He often avoids talking about the Devildom, and whether that's because he doesn't want to upset me or because he simply can't face them knowing what he knows, I've yet to figure out. It's a nice thought, him trying not to remind me of the best part of my life. But it's not overly helpful, given that, even if physical representations of our bonds weren't burned into my skin, everything I do reminds me of them anyway. I know it's selfish of me to make him keep my secret. But to be fair, I decided nearly a year ago that I am an inherently selfish creature, and I've come to terms with it.

Now that I'm on my own, things are easier. Nobody relies on me for much more than fetching papers or goods, and any failures that occur are mine to handle alone. It's simple. It's lonely. But it's simple. And it's good.

I suppose all good things must come to an end though. As I follow my long-since memorized path through the Celestial Palace, I can't help but wonder why I've been summoned. Usually, if Michael has a task for me, he simply brings it to me. But today he asked I meet him in the throne room, so here I am.

I'm greeted as soon as I swing open the door. "MC! Thank you for coming so quickly."

I'm nearly caught off guard by the use of my real name in public. For the sake of secrecy, Michael and Simeon have taken to calling me a fake name for the duration of my stay here.

"How can I help?" I nod as I close the door behind me. I take notice of Simeon's presence and he looks nervous. Never a good sign.

"I have some paperwork I need run to the Devildom. Usually I'd send Simeon, but I need him for another task today and this is rather urgent." Michael grins at me, likely in an attempt to sweeten the plan he's certain I would protest if given the chance.

I'm nearly nauseous at the idea of it. "You're joking, right? I mean this so genuinely, have you lost it?"

There's a flash of amusement on his face before he responds, "I would never make light of your trauma, no I am not joking. You have your cloaking spell, and all you need to do is hand the papers over to Barbatos. Maybe if he's busy, you'll have to hand them to Lord Diavolo himself. But then you can just come straight back. Simple and easy."

I stare at him, dead eyed and confused. "Yeah, seems super simple." I groan, sarcasm laced in every letter. "There's no getting out of this, is there?" I glance desperately at Simeon who seems to have loosened some of the tension in his spine at my pseudo acceptance of the whole ordeal. He shakes his head.

"Fine." I sigh. "Open'r up." with a lazy wave of my arm.

Michael nods, same fatherly grin plastered on his face as always. I'm sure he's convinced he's won some sort of mental battle, and maybe he has. Either way, he summons the portal, and I steal my nerves to step through. "I'm getting two days off when I get back." I call, lunging through the portal.

On the other side, I take a quick moment to make sure my cloaking spell hasn't warn off before looking around. I'm right where I had assumed I'd be. The courtyard's grand arches and elegant gazebo bring a chilly feeling of recognition to the back of my mind. How many gallas and celebrations had I spent out here, in search of some form of peace from the hustle and bustle? How many times had I stumbled upon Levi, or him upon me, in search of the same thing? I think for a moment that I wouldn't mind him stumbling upon me now.

I shake the thought from my mind as quickly as it occurs. Just deliver the paperwork.

I begin the path to the castle without a thought. The trail ingrained into my very psyche. I almost laugh at the thought. I abandoned this place, yet it never left me. What is it Djo said about men and cities?

I never allowed myself to dwell on it from the comfort of Michael's garden, but God did I miss the sky here. Something about the ever present swirling of purples and blues splashed across the stars is purely... divine. Not to say that the Celestial realm wasn't stunning. But there was always this sense of perfectionism, even in the natural landscape. It never felt right to me. Not like this at least. This has always been chaotic, but in the way a toddler helping in the kitchen is chaotic. Sure, shit's a mess and you're near certain it's going to end poorly, but if you take just a moment to watch it unfold, there's beauty in it.

I wish I could have been reborn as a demon.

No. No I don't. Living out the rest of my days, infinite as they may be, facing them with my own selfishness. I'm sure it would kill me a second time.

I'm utterly lost in thought and the view of the sky as I follow the path. So much so, I nearly miss the tail swishing on the ground in front of me. Luckily for me, it bats my ankle gently before I manage to step on it. Double luck, the contact doesn't wake it's sleeping owner.

Belphegor snores softly in the grass next to the path, curled up with his back to me. Something in me instinctively wants to curl up with him, but I know I can't. So instead, I sit. Divine garb be damned, I'm sitting on the dirt, watching him sleep. I consider making a run for it, but the subtle pull he's always had keeps me calm and still. Even in his sleep, even with our pact burned away, his presence still lulls me like a child.

I shake my head as if I were actually dozing off. Was I? Regardless, I stand up, settling to move him out of the trail, just a little. For the sake of the hazard he poses to himself and others. He's as warm as I remember as I press him further into the grass, tucking his tail over his leg before quickly stepping away and back to my task.

A warm feeling I can just barely remember washes over me and stops me in my tracks. How could I, after over a year away, fall so quickly back into routine. Not only how could I, but how dare I? I made my decision, and I've got no right to just wander in here and return to my position, doting and fawning over them. I truly am a selfish creature.

I tried to explain it to them, time and time again. But they simply refused to believe me. I cared so much, not because of them, but because I needed to. I needed to care for them to feel useful. Asmodeus once told me that I was a "pleasure sub". I told him I was willing to rip my own heart out to please him, but mostly because i never much cared for it anyway.

(As always, thank you soooo much for reading. If you'd like to be tagged in future uploads, please comment to be added to the list!)

-Your Friend, The Author

*tags*

@spffldlbrnf

#obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me #mammon x reader #obey me angst #obey me belphegor #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon

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hayisins · 5 months

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arataki itto x begging !! ♡ "ugh . . . baby, please, i can't . ."

this prompt comes from this post !! so all credit to the idea goes to them ♡

contains : begging, animalistic sex teehee, overstimulation, size kink if you squint, creampies, afab!reader, service top!itto ♡

sometimes, having a boyfriend like itto has more than one perk. many actually. this man is an absolute saint. he loves hard and proves it through his copious amounts of love for the people in his life through different acts of service. being his partner was absolutely no exclusion from this. itto loved and cherished you deeply, everyone around you two knew it.

whether it was the large amount of lovebites on you at all times or even the way itto always had a protective arm around you in public, everyone was aware of the oni's love and passion for you. his smile when you'd walk into the room was brighter than a thousand suns and the way he talked about you was enough to make a married man feel single and lonely. you truly are the pride of itto's existence.

this being said, the man is rather addicted to you. itto will almost immediately do anything you ask him to without complaint . . so when you have him tied to a chair in your residence, sitting right on his lap where he cant touch or hold you. why it drives him crazy. it makes him almost feral . . but that's exactly what you want. he's grunting trying so hard to fight against the restraints you have on him but its all in vain.

"come on sunshine . . . this is so cruel !!"

he whines it like a child, a pout showing up on his perfect face in protest but you're not listening. you only roll your hips as to tease him even more, giggling to yourself at how pitiful all of this is. an oni, someone double your size, being tied down and pathetically begging to be released. all of this went to your head as you continued your motions. poor ittos cock was hard and threatening to burst out of its confinements.

"at least use your hand !! c'mon . . pleaseplease -"

you immediately cut him off with a kiss, making the oni whine into your mouth. all his sounds being beautifully swallowed up by you. he melts into this, trying to lean up to chase the softness of your skin as its the only part of you he's allowed to touch in this moment. you can feel a shift in him, something rather territorial as his breathing starts to get heavier and heavier. itto is reaching breaking point.

he lunges froward, the rope around his biceps snapping in a fury as now you're being pinned against the wooden floor. his breathing . . god is glorious. he's borderline panting in your ear, grunting and groaning as he fists a hand into his pants to free himself. there's no running from this. however, you believe that to be the case . . when all of a sudden his face softens once more. gentle kisses being placed against your exposed skin.

"that was torture . . please - let me take care of you. i'll do anything you ask just please let me touch you."

with the puppy dog eyes he's currently giving you, how could you refuse? with a small smile you nod and slowly sit up. you command him to remove your clothing as well as his own, the oni taking little to no time to do such actions. that's when the reality of the situation hit you. even though he was untied, you were still in control. he gave you the submission you wanted out of him without needing to be confined. itto was truly whipped for you.

your next command to him is something he'd more than happy to comply with. taking his length into his hands again itto now finds himself slowly pushing into the tight warmth of your walls, a loud satisfied noise leaving his mouth in pure bliss of such a feeling. truthfully, it has you biting your lip too. itto's extremely large and the bulging skin on your tummy proved this as he made his way fully inside of you.

he pounds into you with great force, a wave of moans and loud animalistic sounds following in his path. your vision blurs and you almost cant see straight. you want to cry out for a moment, to beg him to slow his pace but you knew that you truly didn't want him to. you wanted to be treated like this. this marks your first orgasm of the night. it has you shaking, spasming, and tugging at itto's hair. itto watches you like you're a movie. he stares, studying every single little reaction you make to the pleasure he gives you.

this is what makes him finish. he makes sure to pull your hips right down to his thighs, wanting to be fully inside of you while he cums. during his entire orgasm he's a mess of words,

"ohh fuck - you look so pretty - shit - archons i need to -"

is all he's able to get out before he's pounding into you again, both of you borderline screaming from such overstimulation so quickly after orgasm. this time its his turn to ignore you as you cry and beg for mercy, for him to let you take a moment to rest. he can't be bothered to comply this time, especially when you feel as good as you do. however he doesn't get far before he's whimpering again. itto pushes you into a mating press knowing just how good it feels for you. he howls in delight at such a nice feeling.

"ugh . . . baby, please, i can't . ."

the rest of his words fail him as he wails from the overstimulation. he finishes again, muttering copious amounts of things while he does - ranging from praises to degrading thoughts. it doesn't matter to him, nothing does but this - but you.

"you . . are like the biggest onikabuto you can find . . WAIT !! not like that - i mean like !! you . . are really rare . . and so so soooo pretty . . please, just a few more?"

those begging eyes never fail to work . . do they?

#genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #arataki itto #arataki smut #arataki x reader #itto x reader #itto smut #genshin itto #genshin #smut #gi smut

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dazedandconfused-15 · 12 days

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Heaven's in your eyes (Part 2)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female Reader

Summary: Life in Hawkins is dull and lonely, especially after your mom abandoned your family, leaving you even more isolated amidst school rumors. Already shy and with few friends, you find solace in your solitude—until Billy Hargrove, the intriguing new boy from California, comes into the picture. To your surprise, Billy seems to seek you out, finding ways to talk to you despite the odds. Never in a million years would you have imagined forming such an unexpected bond with someone.

Link to: Part 1

@tatumrileyslover @nocturnest @i-keepmyideals @eddiestans-blog here you go!

______________________________________________________________

It has been exactly six days since Billy dropped you home that Monday after the trip. The following days he never fails to greet you if you cross paths in the hallways. He hasn't ignored you once, even though you haven't called him yet. The truth is, you are terrified of doing so. When you think about dialing his number, two days later, you think it's too soon and you will look desperate, so you put the phone receiver back in its place. At the same time, you keep mulling over his words. 'Call me when you feel like it'. It means you don't have to call him right away, maybe he really means to call him when you feel like it. On Saturday morning, you decide it's the perfect time to call him. Enough time has passed to avoid seeming desperate, but not so much that it seems like you don't want anything to do with him. You need to repay the favor, and even though it's pouring rain outside, you pick up the phone.

After a couple of hours of pondering and racking your brain, you decide to take the risk and go for it. You had written Billy's number down as soon as you got inside, safely on a piece of paper. As the phone rings, you're already regretting your decision, feeling nervous as hell.

“Hello,” a girl's voice answers.

“Oh, um, hello. Is Billy there?”

You definitely didn’t expect a girl to answer. She sounds very young.

“Hold on,” she says, sounding bored. You quickly move the phone away from your ear as she screams Billy’s name.

A few seconds later you hear the rustle of the phone being moved around. “...cking yelling like a banshee. Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Y/N” you say, hoping he remembers your name. It would be weird if that’s the case.

“Hey. What’s up?” he says instead.

You instantly feel relieved.

“You told me to call you when I wanted. I hope it’s not a bad time.”

“‘Course not,” he says. “You okay?”

“I’m good, thank you. And you?”

“Yeah, same. What you’re doing today?”

“Um, nothing special.” You glance at the window. “The weather is awful. I was actually wondering if you wanted to go grab a bite?” It feels like you’re inviting him on a date. It’s embarrassing. “Since it’s raining.” Now you’re repeating yourself. You’re glad he can’t see you blushing furiously as you keep rambling. “I mean, remember you told me you wanted to see more of Hawkins? I saw the weather and thought about this place. It’s a bit outside of town. If you don’t have anything planned.”

“Yeah, sure. Just need to finish working on some stuff. I can pick you up at seven.”

“Seven is perfect,” you say, your heart still hammering in your chest. “I’ll see you then.”

“See you.”

You change clothes at least three times, unable to decide what to wear. You don't even know why you're making such a big deal out of it—it's not a date, just an outing between friends. Actually, you two aren't even that close. But don't dwell on that too much; what is the reason for your outing, anyway? Originally, it was to show Billy the rest of Hawkins. Dinner is part of that plan, but Benny's Burger isn't one of the places he mentioned, even though it's a bit more isolated. However, that didn't seem to bother him. This time, you decide to bring enough money to pay for both of you. It's the least you can do.

Despite anticipating this moment with secret enthusiasm, seven o'clock arrives faster than you'd like. You leave the house in the pouring rain to find Billy's Camaro idling in front of your trailer, its low rumble cutting through the night. You hurry to open the door and close your umbrella, trying not to let any water into the car. As you settle into the seat and turn to greet him, your breath catches. You try not to look too impressed by the sight of him as you fix your wet hair, but a quick glance is enough to get your heart racing. You’re increasingly convinced that this man has no physical flaws, and that thought destabilizes you. He’s wearing a white tank top under a black leather jacket, with blue jeans that fit like they were tailor-made for him. As he puts his hand on your seat and looks over his shoulder to back up, he manages to keep his cigarette firmly between his fingers, one hand on the steering wheel. You take the opportunity to steal a glance at him. The movement brings him closer, and the scent of his cologne reaches your nostrils, making you feel strange. His long curls are perfectly styled, reminding you of a lion.

“I didn’t think you’d actually call.” he says as he shifts from reverse to first, heading toward the end of the trailer park.

“Oh,” you say. “Why is that?”

“Dunno.” he chuckles, his long lashes brushing his cheekbones. “Maybe you were scared of me or something.”

His sentence moves something inside you. "Oh. Not at all,” you say, your voice carrying a hint of determination. You are determined to make him understand that you may be shy, but you are not a fragile little thing. "I'm not scared of you."

“You’re not?” his voice is like a low rumble, it burns through you and sets you on fire.

“Uh-huh.” your mouth feels dry, and you distract yourself by feeling the hot air coming out of the vent with your hands.

“Good.”

When you walk into Benny's Burger, it's practically deserted. There's just a couple of old gentlemen. From the way they are dressed, they look like fishermen. It looks like they have recently ordered because there is only cutlery and two glasses of beer on their table. Benny Hammond comes to take your order and greets you warmly. He and your dad are good friends, they went to school together here in Hawkins. Billy orders a double burger and a large portion of fries, and you order a steak with a small portion of fries. You were afraid the evening would be punctuated by few words and awkward silences. Billy is not the biggest of talkers, but the feeling of uneasiness quickly vanishes as the night goes on. You tell him about your dad and Benny, recounting how your dad was born and raised in Hawkins. When you tell him about his travels, you linger and talk a lot about California. Billy is curious about what your dad did there for five years. Then you tell him how he went to Jamaica alone and risked his life several times but had a good time. Then Billy tells you how his group of friends in California had been very diverse, two of them being a Jamaican and a Filipino. He tells you how good their mothers' cooking was when he was invited to eat at their house. You are surprised how the conversation always manages to bounce back.

Half an hour later, Billy has cleared his plate. You, on the other hand, are still struggling to finish your steak, so he finishes it for you. You comment in amazement that he eats like a horse, then immediately apologize, feeling your face flush with embarrassment. Billy laughs and tells you he does weight training five times a week. You feel like saying you've noticed, but luckily manage to stop yourself in time and avoid further embarrassment.

You insist on paying to make up from last time, but Billy refuses categorically. You feel guilty, but his stubbornness prevents you from doing anything else. When you leave the restaurant, it has stopped raining. The smell of rain rises from the asphalt of the car park. As you walk towards the parked Camaro, you cross your arms over your chest, suppressing a shiver. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Billy take off his jacket.

"No, don't take it off, I'm good, really." you tell him, already knowing what he’s doing.

“Here,” Billy drapes it over your shoulder anyway. The weight of a jacket and the smell of leather envelop you. You try not to show your surprise as his warm hand gently squeezes the back of your neck. “Just wrap it around yourself. Don’t wanna catch a cold.”

His hand seems to leave an imprint on your skin. You didn’t know you would like his touch so much until now. The sound of zippo rips through the silence and your mind. Billy walks past you, the orange glow of a freshly lit cigarette is the only light in the evening darkness. He opens the driver’s door and bents inside, inserting the keys and fiddling with the radio. You lean your back against the side of the car, enveloped in the warmth of his jacket, still carrying the lingering heat from his body. You breathe through the collar of it, smelling the faint scent of his cologne.

The gentle guitar strumming of ‘Landslide’ wafts through the air as Billy closes the door, windows down, and leans against the car, beside you. You turn towards him, your eyes dragging over his body covered only by his wifebeater. He takes a drag from his cigarette, the tip of it vibrating until it almost turns red.

"You’re sure you're not cold?" you ask, daring to be a bit bolder and nudging his shoulder gently.

Billy nudges you back, mumbling around his cigarette. “Hey, I’m a tough guy.”

You softly shake your head at his answer, looking at the trees in front of you, forming a wall of darkness, a trickle of wind shakes them slightly in the breeze. “I love this song,” you say with a soft smile. Then you look at him. “I didn’t know you liked Fleetwood Mac”.

“What did you think I liked?” Billy asks after exhaling the smoke, taking the cigarette from his mouth.

“I don’t know,” you hesitate, hoping he doesn't misinterpret your words. “I thought you were more into metal. Just ‘cause I heard you playing it from your car sometimes.” you hastily add.

Billy hums in acknowledgment. “So you were watching me, huh?”

“No, it’s not that! You just, sometimes the music is very loud.”

He laughs, and it’s such a pleasant sound. It makes your insides swirl. “S’alright. I do play my music very loud.” he flicks the cigarette on the ground, the glowing ashes extinguishing silently on the wet asphalt. “I listen to metal, yeah, but I like rock in general. Hard rock, folk rock,” he jerks his head to his right where the music comes from.

You hum thoughtfully, tightening his jacket around you. “That’s nice. I think they’re among my favorite folk rock bands.

“Those guys?”

“Yes.”

Billy nods his head. “They’re cool, yeah. What else do you like?”

You hum while thinking. “There’s lots. My dad likes all these rock bands, like Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, and a bunch of others. I picked it up from him. He used to blast them in the house when I was little," you recall with a soft smile. "He's a big fan."

“Well, well, well.” Billy grins in appreciation, his smoldering eyes on you. “Didn’t know little miss was so cool.”

You let out a small laugh, and put a strand of hair behind your ear with a shake of your head to do something with your hands. You thank the night for hiding how flustered you are. “I just…”

“What else are you hiding?” he tilts his head toward you, the warming mood bringing him closer than before, his shoulder brushing against yours.

“Not much.” you laugh again, unable to meet his eyes.

“Huh-huh,” he mumbles playfully, bringing the cigarette to his mouth.

You switch the conversation on him, to shift the attention from you. “And how did you start listening to rock?”

Billy initially stays quiet. At a certain point, you’re almost convinced he either didn’t hear you or doesn’t want to answer.

“My mom.” he finally says. You look at him, instantly feeling the shift in his mood. “She listened to all this folk stuff, like Joni Mitchell, Mamas and Papas, Bob Dylan. I remember hearing it play in the house since I was a toddler.” he muses, and for a moment seems lost in the memory, breathes a silent laugh through his nose. “She was a bit of a hippie.”

You can imagine his mom dancing barefoot in the living room, him mirroring her movement with a smiling chubby face, his bright blue eyes looking up in adoration at her.

“And my old man didn’t like that part of her one bit,” he says then, his voice turning acidic. He flicks his cigarette again. “You meet someone and expect them to change what they are for you. Kinda makes sense, huh?”

Something in the way he talks about her suggests to you that her mother is part of his past. You don't know on what level, but surely the whole thing didn't end well. And that's one of the sensitive topics regarding his life in California.

‘Dreams’ starts playing next, filling the last few seconds of silence. It makes you think about the vinyl of that album you bought in Chicago when you spent part of last summer at your grandparents’. It was the right before your mom left.

"I think it’s kind of cool. It's usually always dads who listen to that music,” you say gently in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, no.” Billy snorts. “Surely not mine. He thinks that’s the Devil’s music. Still into that conservative bullshit.”

“My grandma thinks the same,” you comment. “I had ‘Rumours’ on vinyl before.” you start, referring to the current song’s album. I bought it that summer when I visited them in Chicago. It got damaged shortly after buying it. I still think she broke it on purpose.

“Shit. That sucks.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “It’s my favorite one.”

“Do you still have your record player?”

“Yes. I have a few other vinyls too.”

As the two of you continue to talk about music, a topic you didn't think you'd be on the same tune on, the mood returns to a lighter one. Soon later, the rain starts falling again stopping you in the middle of your conversation and you both realize it got late. Billy crushes his unfinished cigarette with his boot and you get in the car.

“Thanks for paying tonight. Again,” you tell him sheepishly once on the drive back home.

Billy slightly lowers the radio's volume until the guitar strums are just background noise, his eyes fixed on the road. “There’s lots of other ways to make it up to me, but I won’t let you pay. Sorry, sweetheart."

His tone suggests he's not sorry at all. It almost sounds like it’s out of the question for him. You try to ignore how the nickname makes your heart flutter, refusing to dwell on its meaning.

“But why?”

“Because,” he chuckles, probably amused by how you seem fixated on the question. “It’s just the way it works.”

“Doesn’t make sense,” you mumble quietly, burying half of your face in his big jacket still wrapped around you and suppressing a shiver.

“Shit. Does it always rain in this shithole?” he squints his eyes a little bit as he lifts the lever to increase the windshield wiper's speed. The rain is now pelting the car more aggressively.

“I think it’s because you’re used to California,” you say gently.

There still are a few droplets of water on his naked arms and shoulders. However, he doesn’t seem to feel cold since he’s not shivering.

“Guess so,” he mutters.

For the first time, you notice he has a tattoo on his shoulder. It’s a skull smoking a cigarette. You wonder when he got it done, what does it represent?

Before you can stop, your mouth talks. Your voice is quiet, but it is still audible. “That’s a cool tattoo.”

He turns his head toward you, and for a moment he seems surprised. Then his face settles back into a composed expression, his eyes flickering with a hint of amusement. "Yeah, you like it?" he responds casually, you swear his tone betrays a touch of warmth.

“Mh-mh.” you nod, feeling comfortable enough to say what you really think next. “It suits who you are.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle under his breath. “What do you think that is?"

Maybe it’s the relentless thundering of the rain over you, maybe it’s the fact that it’s pitch dark or you’re slowly being accustomed to being around him. You feel a sense of comfort enveloping you.

“I think… You’re tough on the outside, you always act distant from what surrounds you, like you don’t care about anything and anyone. But deep down, you’re kind-hearted and really gentle.”

The only sound breaking the silence is the soft hum of the music and the harsh drumming of rain against the car. Your swallow seems thunderously loud in the quiet, but the collar of his jacket offers some solace. Glancing at him, you breathe in the scent of leather and him, focusing on his forearms—robust yet slender—then his hands gripping the steering wheel, long fingers lightly wrapped around it. You wonder what it would feel like to have his arms around you, his hands on your waist, neck, cheeks. Every thump of your heart against your ribcage feels hyper-aware.

“Like, incredibly kind and gentle,” you venture, sensing the weight of your words. It's why you try to cloak yourself in the armor of a rough exterior, a fortress formed by sharp cutting gazes, sharky smiles and skinned knuckles. You want to say more, but it feels too personal, too revealing. You know he wouldn't handle it well. It would make him feel vulnerable, prompting him to close off. You guess he’s hiding some things from himself and the world, afraid it would spill over and flood the fragile sanctuary of his soul.

Billy chuckles softly, his tone light yet evasive. "You're painting me as a real softie, aren't you?" his words carry a playful edge, his gaze still fixed on the road ahead. His eyes won’t meet yours, though. There are a few seconds of silence before he speaks again. "Got it last year. The tattoo. Hurt like a bitch."

You notice his subtle attempt to divert the conversation. But you can’t blame him. You went a bit too hard.

“I want to get one too. Someday,” you murmur.

“Yeah?” he glances at you.”D’you have something in mind?”

“Not really…I guess I’d have to think about it.”

“You should. It’s gonna be there forever. Unless you get it lasered off, which is a new thing. And that’s a whole other level of pain.”

Just to make you think about it makes you shiver. “Laser it…?”

“Yeah.”

Getting a tattoo is something you have to ponder for a long time indeed. And you’ve always had a penchant for changing your mind. Getting excited about ideas, projects, and it always seemed to work for a long time until you changed your mind. Or something happened and you consequently changed your vision of things. You’ve always been uncertain. Your life had a penchant for unexpected events and uncertainties as well.

“Maybe getting a tattoo is not for me,” you mumble. “I’m bad at making decisions. I feel like all of my life is going to be like this.”

“What do you mean?”

As the car slows down, you realize you’re already driving on Forrest Hill trail road.

“I mean…” you sigh, uncertain whether to delve into what’s on your mind and risk exposing yourself. But Billy opened up tonight, so you feel compelled to do the same. It also feels kind of natural. “In my life, things always seem to take unexpected turns. Often in a bad way. I can never know what to expect. And I don’t like that.”

The car comes to a halt, and you find yourselves parked in front of your trailer.

“Well, I could tell you ‘That’s the beauty of it’ or some stupid shit like that. But huh…” he chuckles, shaking his head as he rattles the pack of cigarettes in his palm to extract one. “My life has been a shit show itself. So, I get it.”

“I’m really sorry,” you say softly. That’s all you can say, you can only imagine from the vague piece of information he gave you.

Billy shrugs as if to brush it off. It’s so natural it looks rehearsed. You wish you could tell him it does matter, that he deserved to have a happy childhood, he deserves a happy life.

“I wish I could at least have a hint. Even if it’s just one piece of information. I don’t like all of this uncertainty,” you continue. You've known Billy long enough to understand he doesn’t appreciate pity, or even anything that remotely seems like pity. “I wish I could see my future. My grandma…” you stop yourself with an embarrassed laugh. “I know this is gonna sound stupid. It’s probably not true anyways. But I’ve always wanted to get my palm read. My grandma used to know how to do it.”

Met with silence, you feel the familiar burn of shame and regret welling up inside you. Why would you say that? He’s probably thinking you’re crazy for believing in this stuff.

“Wanna give it a shot?”

You turn toward him in surprise. “You know how?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty good at it.” he shrugs, putting the pack of cigarettes in the compartment. Then places his cigarette behind his ear. “Come on.” he holds his palm in invitation. You place your hand in his, palm facing up.

“Alright,” he begins, tracing a line with his fingertip, “This here, is your headline. It’s curved and wavy, which means you’re creative and intuitive. You think outside the box, not afraid to follow your own path.”

You watch his face, his concentration as he reads your lines. “And this one. Huh. Oh yeah. See, your lifeline is strong and deep,” he continues, his voice a low rumble. “That means you’re full of energy, and vitality. You’ve got resilience, no matter what life throws at you.”

He shifts his focus to another line, “An this, here, this is your fate line. Not everyone has one. Suggests you’ve got a purpose, something you’re meant to do, and it’ll shape your life significantly. Basically, your destiny is in your hands.”

His thumb moves lightly over your palm, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “Your skin is soft. How's it so soft all the time?” he almost mutters to himself. “Means you’re sensitive, maybe a bit sheltered. Shows you’re not letting anyone in. But it’s not a bad thing, you know what I mean?”

You could listen to his voice forever. It’s like a low melody, resonating deep within you.

“How do you know all this?” you breathe, your eyes studying his face.

“Told you my mom was a hippie. She was into all of this stuff. Taught me how to do it. Shit”, he chuckles. “...haven’t done that since I was ten probably.”

Finally, he traces the heart line, deep and prominent. “And this,” he says, rubbing his finger across a line that nearly runs the full width of your palm. “is your heart line. It runs deep, straight across. It means you feel things intensely. You love deeply, but you also hurt deeply. See this?” he presses his thumb into the little fleshy space between the first and middle fingers, then meets your eyes. “When it curves outward like this, it means you’re willing to give a lot to the other person. Like, you give all of you.”

You are caught between the urge to look away from him and hold his gaze. His tourmaline eyes are two deep pools in which you swear you can lose yourself.

“I uh, we’ll see about that.” you manage to say. “I haven’t had anything like that before.”

“Haven’t had a boyfriend yet?”

A small laugh escapes your lips at your own embarrassment. His own slightly twitch too. “God, no. I haven't exactly been in the game.”

“So nada, huh?”

One of his thumbs caresses your palm, the other the skin of the inside of your wrist, drawing circles. It sends tingling along your body. A pleasant shiver that makes your whole body aware, a hot sensation in the pit of your stomach, all your nerves rising. You can feel something hanging in the air, a palpable tension, but you also wonder if it's just your imagination running wild. Being inexperienced as you are, perhaps it’s all in your head, and all of this is fueled by the undeniable attraction you feel toward him. Then Billy jerks his chin toward your right.

“Looks like your dad is waiting for you.”

You follow the direction he’s pointing at. Indeed, the little light outside the trailer is lit. Your dad is peering at the small window on the door, you can see him munching a pickle in the meantime. As you’ve been burned, you quickly retract your hand from his.

You are grateful to your dad for entering the picture and getting you out of this situation. With him looking at both of you, you can do little other than simply greet Billy without a second thought. Had he not been there, you would surely have stumbled over your words.

“Oh, uhm. Sorry about that.” you chew at your bottom lip before looking back at Billy, an apologetic expression on your face. It’s embarrassing. “He was probably worried, he does that when I come back late. Oh,” you suddenly remember you’re still wearing his jacket, so you quickly take it off. “Here. Thank you. I’ll see you at school?”

Billy takes the jacket. “Yeah. See you there. Sleep tight.”

You want to ask him if another hangout is on the program, but you don’t wanna press too much, so you hurry inside the trailer with your heart a little lighter and a thousand questions. In your bed, you keep replaying the hours spent with him unable to fall asleep. His change of tone and attitude when he talks about his parents lingers in the back of your mind. You don't know his story in depth, but you are increasingly convinced that he and you share more than you think.

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove smut #billy hargrove x oc #dacre montgomery #stranger things smut #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x you #dacryphilia #slow burn #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove angst #eddie munson #billy hargrove x y/n #billy stranger things #smut #80s

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vespertiliosworld · 3 months

Text

Shivani

Damian x Reader

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

English is not my first language, forgive me if there is any mistake.

Some time had passed since Diana Price adopted you. You were used to living with her, of course she didn't tell you how she found you. You started a new school in Washington.

Once you got to a pretty good school and a good life, Diana decided you were strong enough and started taking you on patrols with her. Along with this, you also started seeing Superboy and Robin more often.

There were times when you felt like they were redundant because they had met before you, but you were still used to them. Although Robin was a little rude to you. You felt a little relieved when Superboy told you that this was his normal self.

You still like to go on patrol and train with them. Of course, it was difficult for you to stay awake at night and do a lot of activities. Come on, let's be honest, you can't expect your mental health to stay good when you have a messed up sleep schedule and so many problems in your hero life.

On one of those similar days, of course, under Robin's leadership, you attempted things beyond your scope. You were hesitant about this because Diana had told you to only do the tasks they gave you."What if they get mad at us?" you said as you examined the strange underground tunnel you had entered.

Robin turned to you with a stern look. "Don't be a coward, it's just a mission." His voice showed how uncomfortable he was with you being there. He was leading you and Superboy as he walked in the front row.

You frowned but didn't respond to him.

"He's right Damian, we should leave this to the adults. They just told us to check if there was anything suspicious." Superboy said, defending you.

However, you were thinking about Superboy calling Robin 'Damian'. "Damian? Damian Wayne?" You asked in surprise, involuntarily raising your voice.

Damian turned to Superboy and wrapped his arms around his chest. "Great! Now he knows my identity, good for you idiot!" You were trying to digest this new information as he scolded Superboy.

“Me too Y/N!” You spoke to him with a big smile. "Y/N L/N! Nice to meet you." You offered him your hand with an awkward smile. "I promise your secret will be safe with me, Robin."

Damian glared at your hand and shook his head. "Second idiot! We are in an unknown place, they might be listening to us!" he said scolding you.

You bowed your head, realizing he was right. You felt stupid for making a mistake. "I am sorry."

Without saying anything, Robin just took a deep breath and turned and started walking. Superboy approached you and put a hand on your shoulder. “I'm Jonathan Kent, nice too meet you, Y/N.” When he looked at you with his smile as bright as the sun, you felt a little relieved.

After smiling at him, you quickly followed Robin, but after a few steps, you felt a breath on your neck and turned quickly. You put your hand on the back of your neck and stared into the empty darkness. You took a step with the uneasiness that surrounded you, but when the ground started to shake, you fell to the ground.

You quickly wanted to turn around and check on the boys, but you panicked when you realized you couldn't see any of them. You quickly stood up and ran towards the path you thought they were on, but you started to feel like you weren't making any progress.

"Look at that lonely little gazelle! How lost, how pathetic." When you heard the familiar voice, you quickly wanted to look around and saw him. Void was sitting in the air, watching you with amused eyes. You took out your sword and quickly got into a fighting stance, but Void did not move."Aw! Don't be like that little one, you're so wild."

"Shut up! Where are my friends? What did you do to them?!" You started yelling at him. You were afraid of the dark and this narrow space.

But why did the tunnel seem to be getting smaller?

Your hands holding the sword trembled as you felt yourself start to lose your breath. You ignored the Void and tried to run and find the exit. As you ran, the tunnel became smaller and smaller, reaching a size where you could no longer even stand.

"Aw! Is there something wrong, kid?" Void chuckled and mocked you. His eyes were shining dangerously. He looked like a hunter having fun with his prey.

You tried to hold the walls with your hands and push them, you were suffocating. Your phobia felt like it was going to kill you. As the walls got smaller, you felt like the day your parents died. When the screams of your mother, who put you in a small closet and locked you from the outside, and your father's crying reached your ears, you fell to your knees and started crying.

“Please…” You begged with your broken speech.

Void looked at you as if he was enjoying this situation. When he squeezed the black ball he held in his palm a little more, the walls became tighter. “Guess you got nowhere to go, huh?” He underestimated you. "Give me your power source and I'll get you out of here." He tried to talk you into a deal.

Instead of answering, you pressed your hands to your ears, trying to escape your family's screams. "Mom dad!" When you screamed, Void let out a breath of boredom.

"Come on kid, we don't have much time. You either stay here or give up your powers." he said in a serious tone. His facial expression had become more threatening, but you were too scared to see it.

When your sword glowed, it brought you out of that fearful memory. You tried to get out of this darkness by reaching out and holding your sword. You felt yourself coming to your senses as a warm and safe feeling seemed to radiate from the sword. You weren't on the day your parents died, you were in a situation the Void forced you into.

You clenched your teeth. "Go to hell!" When you tried to attack him with the sword in your hand, you noticed something. You weren't actually in a small, confined space! This was a very wide tunnel.

"Fuck!" He swore as he dodged your attack, realizing you were free from the effects of his powers.

He dodged back as you swung your sword at him. "You were lucky this time, but I'll catch you next time." When he threatened you as he disappeared into the darkness, the ground disappeared and you fell.

You looked around as your eyes suddenly opened and a large gush of black liquid came out of your throat. Robin and Superboy were looking at you. Robin was furious, but Superboy was worried. You hugged Robin, who was right in front of you, tightly and started crying. Your body was shaking with the fear you had just felt.

Damian wanted to push you away, but when he realized you were crying, he rubbed his hand on your back instead. When they realized that you were not following them, they turned and saw you drowning in a pitch black liquid.

Even though they tried to wake you up and make you vomit the black liquid, it didn't work and you went into a kind of shock and started shaking.

"Are you ok?" Superboy asked as he placed a hand on your shoulder and tried to help you calm down. "What happened?"

"Void," you said in a fearful voice. "H-He pinned me down to the day my parents died. I couldn't escape, I couldn't help them." you said as your sobs got louder. "It was so scary, there was blood everywhere."

"It's okay, you're okay now." said Robin dryly. He didn't know what to say, his relationships with people were not good.

As you started to calm down a little more, you felt like you had lost all your strength because you were crying. You tiredly turned away from Robin and wiped your eyes. "I'm sorry, I acted like a stupid."

Robin stood back and didn't answer you. "Let's go.

If you nodded and stood up, you walked to the exit. Meanwhile, Superboy reached out and held your hand, smiling at you. "Britain, I won't let anything like this happen again, Y/N, trust me." said.

You gave him a grateful smile and walked towards the exit.

Robin was walking in front of you with a grumpy look on his face."While you were unconscious, we checked ahead but there was nothing. Just a big wall." It seemed strange to suddenly see a wall where there was a dark road before.

You nodded. "Let's tell the adults, they know what to do." you said in a meek tone.

Superboy nodded in agreement. Your body was still shaking a little.

You felt relieved when you came out. You thought Void couldn't reach you anymore. When Robin got on his motorcycle you and Superboy flew side of him.

It was good to have the cold air hit your body and make yoı feel like you wasn't in a confined space anymore. Once a smile appeared on your face, you spent the rest of the night around the adults, telling them what had happened.

The next day, you spent all day thinking. Void wasn't going to leave you alone until he got what he wanted, there was no escape from him. You thought about what you could do, what path you would follow. Meanwhile, the window of the room was knocked once or twice.

You turned your head in that direction with fear, but you breathed a sigh of relief when you saw Jonathan. You got up from the bed and opened the window for him, but Damian walked in before you did. With a relaxed attitude, he checked in as if he owned the place and sat on the chair in front of the desk.

When Jonathan came in, you closed the window and turned to them. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be on patrol?" you said curiously.

Jonathan smiled widely. "Yes, but we want you to come too! Besides, there is a place called BatBurger in Gotham, we want to take you there too." he said excitedly. Then he stopped and put his hand on the back of his neck and bowed his head. "Of course, if you want to come too."

You smiled softly. "I would love that."

"Great then! Let's go." said Jonathan excitedly again.

Damian looked at him annoyed. "Idiot! She needs to get dressed!" he said scoldingly.

You giggled at them. You put on the relic and let the power flow through your body. Now that you were in your hero form, you put your hands on your hips and smiled strongly. "Let's go!"

#damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne x y/n #damian al ghul x reader #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #damian al ghul #damian x reader #dc comics #dc x reader #dcu #dc universe #superboy #jonathan kent #jon kent

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occatorcreator · 1 month

Text

Second Chances

Links - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

2 - Lonely Purpose

Purple seeks out a new purpose in the wake of his mother's passing and makes a new life in the world of Minecraft. Through it, he ends up crossing paths with a group of stick figures in need. Content Warnings: Character death, grieving, canon typical violence

Purple returned to the city to bury Orchid. There was no body to bury, but a grave was something Orchid requested in her end-of-life plan, and Purple would honor her last requests.

It didn’t change the hollow feeling he had standing before her grave. He had cried all of yesterday, and his eyes felt raw and painful, but he couldn’t summon any more tears. So he simply stewed in his emptiness.

He was the only one there for her funeral.

I mean, of course he wouldn’t show up, Purple thought. I should be glad to not see him… it would just be awkward. As if he cares that his ex-spouse is gone.

The lawyer reached out to Navy regarding the death. Navy should have learned of Orchid’s passing and Purple’s destitution. But of course how could one reach someone who left without any contact for over a year? Purple would be a fool to hope to see him here.

So, why was he so upset that Navy failed to show?

I can’t be here, Purple turned away, the numbness turning into an unexpectedly painful vise in his chest. He left his mother’s grave and the cemetery behind as quickly as he could, bolting down the sidewalk until he had no energy left to run.

He leaned against a wall, watching as stick figures passed by with faded interest. He stood as still as a statue, watching passerbys go into the stores. There were parents holding little kids by their hands, groups of friends chatting close to each other, lovers holding hands and laughing...

Everyone was lively and moving around like usual. The day was bright and sunny, birds were chirping. As if this wasn’t the worst day of Purple’s life.

A group of teenagers passed by him. When Purple watched them, he recognized all of them as old friends from school. All but one. A tall, lanky orange hollow head towered over them and chatted with arms waving animatedly. Their eyes briefly met Purple’s and for a split, terrifying second, Purple thought they were going to try to rope him into small talk.

But they didn’t, they just waved and continued walking with their group. A couple of others looked back at Purple, and Purple tried not to notice their confused and judging gazes. The teens turned a corner, but Purple caught his name whispered among them.

“Hold on, was that Purple back there?”

With heavy limbs, Purple followed behind them. He moved silently, trying to be discreet in the fact he was following them.

It has been five months since I dropped out, Purple realized. It had to be summer break now.

“Do you know them, Peri?” The orange hollow head asked.

“Yeah, he disappeared before you transferred in, Second,” the stick figure Purple knew as Periwinkle said. “He was in my financial elective...”

“And he was a total scumbag,” a dark violet stick figure jumped in.

“Saffron,” Periwinkle admonished.

“What? It’s true!” The oddly named Saffron said. Purple recalled her brazenness. She was Periwinkle’s annoying younger sister and highly protective of her softhearted brother. Any slight against him, no matter how small, earned her ire.

“What did Purple do?” Second asked.

“Ah, Purple is someone you wouldn’t want to get close to,” added a brown stick figure beside them. “He acts friendly at first, gives gifts to buy your affection. But he’s highly controlling. The moment you don’t do what he wants or if you inconvenience him, he dumps you and goes after the next sucker.”

Chestnut… Purple grimaced at his ex-friend’s bitterness. He lagged behind, increasing the distance between them.

“I think that’s being a little bit uncharitable,” Periwinkle added, “I think he really admired you, Chestnut.”

“Ugh, don’t even joke about that, Peri?” Chestnut said, punching Periwinkle in the arm. Her disgust was hard not to hear from this distance.

“Why are you even defending him? Do I need to remind you how Purple borrowed your prized umbrella?” Saffron said, “and you never got it back even after asking about it?”

“I never forgot that…” Periwinkle nodded, and Purple saw his shoulders slump. “Gosh, it still hurts to think about it. I spent so much money getting that, it was one of a kind.”

“Exactly! And now it’s gone because of him! You’re being too nice!”

Second, sensing that their friend group was getting agitated, coughed in their hands.

“Anyways, I asked Mango this morning, and he said I can go to the arcade with you all!”

Saffron pumped her hands in the air while Periwinkle clapped. “Awesome!”

“Yeah, enough about Purple,” Chestnut said, not leaving much alone, slinging her arm around Second’s shoulders. “Be grateful you never met him. He’d be horrible to you too.”

“Chestnut,” Second scolded.

“Sorry, I’ll stop,” Chestnut finished.

Then they chatted about arcade games. Purple didn’t catch anything else as he stopped in his tracks, watching as the group retreated. He couldn't stand to listen anymore as he felt like he was close to decking one of them.

Why… was the whole school glad I was gone for months? Purple thought, clenching his fists. Was I really that awful to you?

He and Chestnut certainly had a falling out, but he swore his attempts at being her friend were genuine. Complimenting and giving gifts- how else was he supposed to make friends? It wasn’t his fault they had incompatible personalities! Not everyone can be so blaisé about everything! Was it a crime to expand his social circle?

Not like those sticks liked me for long… Purple thought, recalling how he fell out of that clique faster than he did with Chestnut.

Periwinkle was nice; Purple did intend to only borrow the umbrella since he had none that rainy day. But of course, with his horrid luck, he ended up breaking it on the way home and feared how Periwinkle would react. How was he supposed to know that it was a special one of a kind?

Stupid idiot’s too obsessive over umbrellas, Purple grinded his teeth. If he and his sister blow a gasket over a lost umbrella of all things, then no sane person should deal with them!

He felt raw and scratched, scoured by their claws. How he hated them. Truly hated them all. Especially that Second kid- what a stupid name. While he didn’t know anything about them, he hated how the three people who he couldn’t befriend clung to them so easily. He hated how Second had to only look at him to ruin his horrible day even further. He hated that they had some parent to come home to after fun at the arcade with friends while Purple was all alone.

I hate you! Purple thought with bared teeth. I hope you all suffer like I did! Hope your days are as rotten and horrid as mine!

I hate all of you!

Alana reminded Purple that he could stay on the desktop for as long as he liked. That arrangement worked out for Purple because he had no reason to leave the computer. He didn’t want to return to school, and he had no desire to find a job and be a cog in some miserable system in the city. On the desktop, he had more freedom to do what he wanted.

And he just wanted to lie in his bed and wallow in his sadness.

He let the grief drape over him. It made his limbs heavy as lead and turned his mind to static. Food and activities were bland; he had no desire to do much of anything. Aside from Alana, there wasn’t anyone checking on him. He had no idea where the villager caretaker went or if they were somehow deleted, but he couldn’t even begin to care.

How odd it felt to be purposeless. How the drive and desperation to find a cure for his mother vanished with her body, leaving behind exhaustion and nothingness.

The only time he felt anything other than despair was when he dreamed. The dreams were both cruel and relieving. He dreamt of being a prince in a grand castle. His mother and friends were there in that castle to greet him and go on fun adventures. Waking was painful, as it brought those sweet dreams to an end and dumped him back to the cold, lonely reality. The more he slept, the longer the dreams went and more intense the pain of waking became.

I wish I could stay in my dreams…

But then one night, they changed. Instead of continuing the fantasy, he dreamt he was in a void. A light shone above, with pink petals floating down around him.

Orchid petals? Purple thought, holding a hand out to catch a petal. Mom?

Instinctively he looked around, trying to find Orchid in the pitch dark, only to flinch when he saw Navy standing before him in the gloom.

“Why are you here?” Purple raised hands up defensively. He had not dreamt of his father once in his fantasy world. It was as if he was banished from his dreams.

Yet Navy stood before him, staring. The stare was all too familiar, that cold, guarded stare before he walked out of Orchid and Purple’s life.

“What?” Purple demanded, “what do you want? What right do you have to judge me?”

Navy said nothing. He should have said something by now.

“Be gone with you!” Purple waved, “Do what you always do and just leave me already!”

To that, Navy’s gave a disappointed sigh.

“You can’t even keep your promises,” he said, “that’s it, I guess. I’m leaving.”

He turned and walked away into the void.

“What?” Purple never recalled him saying that before. He didn’t understand. “Wait!” Purple took a step forward. “What do you mean by that? Answer me!”

Navy kept walking; Purple couldn’t catch up. Despite telling him to leave, he still chased after his father.

What promise am I breaking?

When Purple awoke, he remembered his mother’s dying breath: she’d asked for Purple to take care of himself.

Sleeping in bed, shutting myself from the world, Purple’s heart hammered. I’m not keeping to that promise.

And he loathed that a dream version of Navy could be right!

For the first time since he left his mother’s grave, the drive fueled him. He thought he lost it to grief. That dream, his father’s words criticizing his ineptitude, gave him something for his churning anger to sharpen itself against.

I’ll take care of myself, he thought, no, I’ll do better, I will thrive. He’d prove his father, those teens, and everyone who ever doubted and looked down on little Purple wrong!

He would be great.

Purple crawled out of bed. His muscles protested at the exertion he was unused to after months of laying around. He forced himself to hold his head high.

“How about…” Purple said as he spotted the remains of his and Orchid’s castle. “I finish that castle of mine.”

Purple wanted to play Minecraft legitimately. No cheats, no spawning things. He was going in to play like any other player. He had a new goal for his playthrough. He aimed to become a true king of Minecraft.

He started with only the essentials and got to mining. He had his basic goals set for making his kingdom: get enough cobblestone and wood to build his castle and starting houses, locate some villagers, and… well he hadn’t figured out step three yet, but the first two were going to be huge.

There were enemies. Fighting them wasn’t as bad as Purple initially feared. If anything, felling the zombies, creepers, and skeletons, then the tougher ghasts, endermen, and wither skeletons, made Purple feel powerful. All those rusted fighting skills he neglected were sharpening and, for once, he enjoyed the combat. With the right equipment and enchantments, enemy encounters hardly concerned him.

He found some zombie villagers too and, desiring to build a village the proper way, successfully escorted and cured those zombie villagers. And, oh, how he was praised for his heroics! The cured villagers bowed to him as their savior, Lord Purple!

Not the pathetic Purple I was before now, huh? Purple thought, puffing his chest in pride.

But the joy never lasted. The glory he got from fighting turned dull as the enemies were no match for his sword. The villagers had children. Seeing happy little kids running around while their happy parents watched, filled Purple’s hollow heart with venom. Their praise towards his greatness suddenly felt shallow and fake, especially knowing how much he loathed to see them prosper when he still felt horrible.

It didn’t help that the next day, all those kids grew into adults. The very sight of this rapid aging caused Purple to retreat into his castle and remain there for three days. He glared at the wall, unable to sleep and failing to calm himself down. Once again, all the motivation deserted him, and a part of him wanted to burn this fake village and false castle to the ground.

“Why?” He asked a portrait of a bizarre wither skull formation, “why is it that I’ve accomplished so much more than I did in school, and I still feel this way?”

The skull painting did not answer, but Purple suspected it knew fully well why.

Purple imagined his mother telling him that he was pushing himself too hard, but the thoughts of her words just made him curl further in a miserable ball. How could he enjoy even the false, temporary victories of a game when she wasn't there to see them?

Only Navy’s words spurred Purple out of his funk on the third day when he fell asleep. You can’t even keep your promises...

“Right. Castle and village is done. I need a new goal,” he said and eyed the skull painting. It was such a peculiar piece that he wondered if it was a hint that if he made something like that he’d summon something like an iron golem. Something evil.

If so, if I make this and defend the village from this beast, Purple thought, then I’d be a legend to them!

Plus, he’d like a challenging fight for once. Time to visit the nether and grab some skulls.

“Ugh, finally!” Purple said as he successfully pried the third wither skeleton’s skull off and it didn’t disintegrate to ash. “I swear, hunting for skulls is such a pain.”

But he finally got three skulls and the soul sand. He was done with his nether trip. Time to head back and figure out what he’d summon-

Bang! Bang!

The nether caverns echoed with the sound of rhythmic thumping. Purple felt the walls around him tremble as the thumping grew louder and louder. He looked around, clutching the wither skull to his chest, as he tried to find the source of the noise.

“The hell is going on?” Purple gasped.

Suddenly, there was a scream. Purple only had a split second to turn towards that scream before a stick figure dressed in armor landed right on top of him and knocked him to the ground.

“Yeouch!” Purple wheezed. His health went down to half from the impact, and he shoved the stick figure off of him. Before he could get a good look at them, more screams were heard, and additional stick figures landed next to him, narrowly missing his battered body.

Why is it raining stick figures?! Purple looked bewildered between the group of stick figures. The green, blue, and yellow stick figures lay on the ground, their health at half a heart. The blue and yellow sticks were dazed, diamond armor shattered to pieces around them, while the green stick figure only had a cracked diamond helmet left.

The green one was moving, able to rise up because his fall was cushioned by landing right on Purple. He coughed, pushing himself on shaky arms and legs.

“Yellow? Blue? You-” he paused when his gaze met Purple’s. “-alive?”

Purple stared back and, unable to think of a better response, waved.

The stick figure, he presumed named Green given the naming convention, waved back. “Um, hi?”

Bang! Bang!

Purple and Green looked up at the ceiling where the noise came from. In the gloom, Purple could make out the stick figure shaped holes they fell through. A fine layer of dust fell from above.

“I take it you didn’t mine straight down,” Purple mumbled.

“Oh no!” Green forced himself up and ran to shake Blue and Yellow violently. “We don’t have time! Come on, get up!”

“What’s going on?” Purple asked, shouting over the thumping.

“Um, it’s a bit of a long story!” Green yelled back as he lifted Blue to her feet. She was waking, as was Yellow, but neither of them were in any good condition to stand for long.

“Condense it then!” Purple pulled out a potion of healing and threw it on them. The cloud restored their health to full instantly. The three stick figures leapt up, looking at their now healed bodies in shock.

“Woah! How did you do that?” Blue asked.

“Not now,” Purple waved his hands and pointed at the continuous banging above. “What is going on?”

“Ok! We found this game icon on our desktop!” Green explained, pulling out a sword. The tip cracked apart and caused him to pause as he tried to fix it.

“And we were building things with the stuff that came out,” Yellow picked up. They pulled their ax out, only to despair as it crumbled apart too, “taking turns and all that.”

“But when we gave the game icon to Red,” Blue said, staring ruefully at the busted bow in her hands. “She attacked us.”

“Attacked you?” Purple asked.

“Yeah, she wasn’t acting like herself!” Green rushed, “She just went wall eyed and hoarded the icon. We tried to stop her but…”

Bang! Purple heard blocks from above fall to the lava.

“She’s now piloting a giant block stick figure and ended up shoving us down here.” Yellow finished.

“I don’t think we have much time before she follows us here,” Blue added, clutching her head. “Oh, what are we going to do?”

Yeah, that seems like your problem, Purple thought, heart hammering wildly. He wanted a fight earlier, but given the sounds of what was coming, he opted to flee. He turned about to run before Green snatched his arm.

“Let go of me!”

“Please! You don’t have to fight for us, but we don’t have weapons or armor!” Green said. He clasped his hands together. “Please, can you lend anything?”

“I don’t have any extra swords!” Purple exclaimed. “I barely have enough potions after all the fighting I did!”

Bang! The other stick figures looked nervously at each other, rifling desperately through their belongings and finding little to help, fishing rods, crafting tables, jungle trees…

Yeah, they’re screwed, Purple thought, looking for his way back to the desktop.

“Look, I'm just going to head to the portal,” Purple said, “and if you guys have any sense, you’ll join me! Hopefully, Red will be too big to enter!”

The others looked at each other with mixed expressions, confusion, nervousness, and disdain.

“We can’t do that,” Green said, “she would be stuck here if we did that!”

“And how do you know she couldn’t smash her way through?” Yellow added.

Purple stared at Yellow and found himself glaring when he realized it made too much sense.

Ah! What do I do then? Purple thought, looking down at his wither skull helplessly. But as he stared at the empty eye sockets, Purple found an answer in them.

“Hold on,” he said, “I think I have an idea to help you with your problem.”

The plan was half baked given that they only had seconds to execute it. Yellow and Green set it up so they were ready to lure Red to the nether fortress while Purple and Blue made the wither skull statue.

Red came down from above and the very sight of the behemoth in obsidian blocks was almost enough for Purple to return to his “let’s flee to my village” idea.

“So, you are sure this thing we're summoning will be enough against her?” Blue asked.

Purple nodded even though he hadn’t a clue if the summoning would even work. “When we see their signal, just put down the last wither skull.”

Blue bit her lip, glancing from the obsidian stick figure chasing down Green, back to Purple.

“Is there a risk it would kill her?”

Purple blinked. “Aren't you trying to fight her?”

“Fight her, yes, not kill her!” Purple could see a glossy sheen form in Blue’s eyes. “I don’t know what will happen if she dies here.”

“She’ll respawn at her last checkpoint,” Purple said, but his stomach clenched. Assuming you have a respawn point set to begin with.

That didn’t give her any relief. Blue wordlessly sniffed and wiped her eyes.

In the distance, Purple saw the fishing rods fly and snag the head of the obsidian tower. “Ok, now!”

Blue placed the last head down. Upon doing so the statue turned into a three headed skeleton that let out a horrific howl. It glowed blue and was blinking rapidly.

Oh no…

“Uh, what do we do now?” Blue asked.

“Run!” Purple yelled, grabbing Blue by the hand and running away from the fortress. He cupped his hands and shouted at Yellow and Green. “Run!”

They could hardly react to the warning before a thunderous kaboom sounded behind Blue and Purple. The Wither was airborne, screeching and hurling hissing skulls right at them with wild abandon.

This is dumb! This is so dumb! Purple thought as he and the others scattered to dodge the projectiles. Why did I think summoning a giant enemy to fight another giant enemy was a good idea?!

The Wither did not discriminate. It targeted the stick figures as well as the obsidian figure. Its skulls landed right on the head and exploded it to bits. The explosion sent the red stick figure inside flying across the Nether.

Ah, I’m glad I didn’t summon that thing by my village! Purple thought. That thing is tearing through obsidian like tissue paper!

Blue raced down the walkway and held out her arms to catch Red before she landed. Yellow jumped from a ledge above to snatch the Minecraft icon that was knocked out of Red’s hands.

Despite receiving a skull missile to the face, Red was alive and kicking. She wasted no time in kicking Blue’s hold off of her and tearing after Yellow. Her expression was flat, yet her movements feral. She twitched and then lunged at Yellow, clasping at their leg. They fell to the ground with a thud and tossed the Minecraft icon further down the path.

“Oh, come on!” Purple lunged down and snatched the icon. Turning around, he saw the Wither gaining, and, in panic, he held the Minecraft icon. He visualized something stronger than obsidian, and, out from the icon, he blocked the attack with a wall of bedrock.

He protected the group of wrestling stick figures from the impact, yet his action only earned Red’s attention. Locking her fixed expression on him, she let go of Yellow and charged at Purple.

“Ah! Green, catch!” Purple tossed it just as Red pounced on his back. “Get to the portal!”

Green caught it, and started running, using his fishing rod to move across the Nether’s gaps with ease. Red, no longer interested in Purple, raced after Green. She nearly closed the gap between them with her inhumane speed, only for her to be hit down by a skull volley from the Wither above.

“Red!” Yellow and Blue exclaimed, racing to her pick her up. Even injured critically, she continued to wrestle against them, eyes locked solely on Green and the Minecraft icon.

How is she not even down? Purple thought, smacking the Wither’s volleys back as Blue and Yellow dithered.

“Come on! Leave her and get out of here!” Purple yelled.

“But-“

“No buts!” Purple turned and shoved the three over, pinning Red down to the ground. “To the portal now!”

It took a stern look and the Wither’s fast approach to cause the two to run off. Not like Purple could hold Red down long enough, as she shucked Purple off and raced after them.

I can’t let her attack my village! He thought as he ran in pursuit. He lunged his sword at her, narrowly missing her back.

“Stop! Don't kill her!” Green shouted.

Of course that idiot waited by the portal! Stunned by his stupidity, Purple wasn’t ready for Red’s quick roundhouse kick to the hand. His enchanted sword clattered far away from him, and Red ran towards the stick figures just waiting by the portal.

“No! Stop!” Purple abandoned his sword, equally as stupid as Green. “Get in the portal! Hurry!”

So many things occurred at once- Red collided into her friends, knocking them into the portal frame; Purple bowled into her back, which shoved the group through it; and as they entered, the Wither hit the portal, closing it completely behind them.

The group fell sprawling on the desktop, gasping and grunting. Purple clutched his head, wincing at the sharp pain of hitting the ground. Before him, Green, Blue, and Yellow were slowly getting up. Green held the icon. It was shuddering in his hands, glowing a bright white before suddenly fading, as if the portal did something to it.

Red lay limp on the ground. Then suddenly she jerked and writhed. A translucent outline of a Steve player avatar leapt out of her repeatedly before finally falling to the ground. As it let out a dying breath, Purple caught sight of its dead, white eyes before it poofed away.

Red was limp once more.The other three looked at her, expecting her to get up, but she remained still on the ground. They dropped the items they carried and crowded around her. Blue lifted her head up.

“Red? Red!” Blue jostled the stick figure.

“Come on, speak to us!” Green begged. Purple felt something form in his throat at the familiarity of his desperation.

“What’s happening to her health?” Yellow gasped as they held her hand.

Indeed, all the hearts of Red’s health turned black and were ticking down. An effect called “withering” was applied on her.

It’s going to kill her! Purple realized and whistled loudly. The sound spooked the three grieving stick figures, but not as much as the sudden crowd of villagers appearing out of nearby houses did.

“Lord Purple? You’re back?”

“I need a bucket of milk, stat!” Purple hollered and clapped. “Don’t waste time! A stick’s dying here!”

And no time was wasted. The villagers were quick to mobilize and toss a milk bucket to Purple. He snatched it and quickly tossed it to Blue.

“Feed it to her!” Purple quickly exclaimed, “It’ll cure her ailment.”

Confusion gone, Blue brought the bucket to Red’s lips. Indeed, the milk stopped Red’s decaying heart meter just in the nick of time. With only half a heart left, the withering effect faded, and Red let out a shuddering cough.

“G-guys?” She croaked out.

“Red? Is it really you?” Yellow asked.

“Um, yeah,” Red looked around, dazed and then pained, “I’m so sorry for what I did…”

“Shh, no, no,” Blue hushed before pulling her into a hug. Green and Yellow also wrapped their arms around the two.

“I thought we’d lose you…” Green said, muffled.

Purple watched from the sidelines as the four hugged each other. He watched until his heart couldn’t bear the sight of it.

How lucky they are.

“You’ll have to share how you saved these folks,” a villager said as they stood next to him.

“Yeah…” Purple couldn’t meet their eyes, “maybe later.”

He did a good deed, a brave one even! And yet he still felt horrid.

If only milk could cure a heartache too.

#occatorart #alan becker #animation vs minecraft #animator vs animation #second family au #ava purple #ava second coming #ava red #ava green #ava yellow #ava blue

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astroyongie · 2 months

Text

What are you choosing ?

Note: hey everyone! This is little something that I have constructed in a way for you to see if you really know yourself but also as a way to heal and understand your inner desires and needs. This is a part of what we call shadow working, hopefully it will help. you are free to do this quietly, or if you want to share with me, feel free to do so <3

How it works?: please choose one option between the two and try to argument within yourself why you chose that

This or that ?

Question 1

an apology from your father

a hug from your mother

Question 2

being loved

being able to love

Question 3

your father choosing family over work

holding your childhood pet one last time

Question 4

a good night kiss

your hair getting brushed and braided

Question 5

the ability to forgive yourself

finally being heard and understood in your family

Question 6

“i am proud of you” from your mother

“i love you” from your father

Question 7

reading you favorite childhood book for the first time

a letter from that one friend you one day never heard from again

Question 8

crying in your mother’s arms

yelling at her all the things you were too afraid to speak out loud

Question 9

not feeling constantly lonely

not feeling constantly misunderstood

now please choose one number between 1-6. pick the one that you are currently feeling most attracted to. and read your message:

1- Yeshe Tsogyal: you will be able to overcome all of the obstacles you are currently facing. allow your spiritual guides to guide you through this and trust the process, the path that you are in. surround yourself with the people you know bring you only light into your life, allow yourself to trust them more and to trust yourself as well. by working on your spiritual side you will be able to overcome your shadow self.

2- Yogoni: Of course there’s a lot of changes happening in your life at the moment, but keep in mind that sometimes a door will close in order for another to be opened. trust your path and tell yourself if thighs aren't meant to be because life is trying to limit the pains in your life. stay faithful to yourself and your healing oath, as long as you stay authentic to yourself, you will be able to overcome things

3- Terra Mater: your mental and spiritual path does not unfold like most people, it is taking a different way but you need to trust the process, as your spiritual guides love you unconditionally and they will help you find peace of mind. follow the new ideas and accept the changement that is happening in your life. your manifestation is strong, use it wisely. you know that goal you have? grasp it. Even if people say that it's stupid and impossible for you to have it, don't let it go and fight for your desires.

4- Beatitude: don't be afraid to show the true you. The only way to heal your inner conflicts and the pain is by accepting and loving who you are. even when things seem so hard to reach, keep walking down the rightful path and trust life. all the difficulties are going to bring you to wisdom and the right path.

5- Biche: You are only a child that has been hurt. I am so sorry that you had to go through this hard thing. but your energy is able to overcome all of this negativity. you don't need to become something that you are not, your spiritual light is already warm and soft. keep yourself true to your inner core and things will become easier

6- Volva: your spiritual power can heal your dark self way better than what you think. It's time for you to travel through the spiritual world and engage yourself more. don't try to control what is happening and allow it to unfold before you. instead work on something tangible, on something that will help you healing from all the pain you have suffered

#this or that #psychology

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forfucksakesniall · 1 year

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"Car's Outside" - part 3

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Driver!Reader

Summary: As the morning light streamed through the curtains, you found yourself lost in thoughts and confusion from the previous night's encounter with Lewis, unsure of the true meaning behind his request to trust him.

Word Count: 2792

Trigger warning/Content Advisory: This content contains references to personal struggles, emotional confusion, and vulnerability. It explores themes of self-doubt, and the complexities of relationships. It also includes a mention of a past crash incident.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Masterlist

You were lying in bed, still feeling the weight of confusion from the previous night. The meaning behind Lewis's words to trust him remained in your thoughts.

You hadn't noticed that Lewis was already standing near the door, observing your expression while the thoughts run through your mind. He could tell you were feeling overwhelmed, maybe the message he had said wasn't clear enough. To grab your attention, he gently knocked on the door frame.

"Good morning... would you.. like to go for a jog..?" he asked, hoping to offer a fresh start to the day.

He waits outside your hut as you get ready, and he can't help but bounce up and down with nervous energy. Reflecting on the events of last night, he realizes that maybe he shouldn't have made such a bold move. He starts stretching, hoping to release some of the tension.

As the door creaks open, revealing your presence, a smile lights up his face. Seeing you there gives him a glimmer of hope for what could be.

He explains the planned route and the distance you both intend to run.

"But why? We're on vacation," you question, not entirely sure why you agreed to the jog in the first place.

"Well, we can shorten it a bit," he suggests, willing to compromise.

You ran together, following a path that led deeper into the jungle. You continued running, and you couldn't help but notice the jungle becoming denser and thicker. Despite your curiosity, you refrained from questioning him and trusted the journey ahead.

After what felt like a 10-kilometer run, he guided you to an open hut with see-through curtains and a mat.

Coming to a stop, he turned to you and explained, "This is one of the activities we'll be doing."

Confused, you asked, "And what exactly are we supposed to do here?"

He replied, "Have you ever tried meditating before?"

"No," you admitted.

"Ah, I see," he responded. He entered the hut and settled on the floor, resting on a pillow.

"That's what I'm here for. Join me."

Curious yet skeptical, you cautiously entered the hut and sat next to him. Glancing at him to see if this was a playful prank, you observed him closing his eyes and placing his hands gently on his legs.

With a mix of hesitation and willingness, you mirrored his posture and closed your own eyes, embarking on this new meditative experience.

"Set an intention for your meditation, like finding peace or reducing stress. Take deep breaths, focusing on the sensation of your breath. If your mind wanders, gently bring your attention back to the breath."

"Observe any thoughts or sensations without judgment. Show gratitude for the practice."

✧*̥˚ Timeskip *̥˚✧

He instructs you to open your eyes and return to your reality.

This experience has opened your mind to new possibilities. It has sparked a desire within you to explore spirituality and seek answers to life's deeper questions.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, his voice filled with curiosity.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts before responding. "I've been contemplating my racing career and if I should still be doing it..." you begin.

"Originally, I joined because I had some natural talent and thought it could be a good goal. But as I got more deeply involved, I became inspired and driven to become the best I could be."

You pause, a hint of sadness seeping into your words.

"But by doing this, I've started to feel lonely. I look around and realize I'm slowly losing the people I once had. It makes me question who I am and what's the point of it"

You finish speaking, your voice carrying a mix of longing and uncertainty, hoping that somehow he might understand the weight of your words.

"It's definitely not easy to stay motivated, but having a support system is important," he advises, his voice filled with genuine concern.

"Surround yourself with people who motivate you and remind you of your worth. Taking care of your mental and physical well-being is also important, especially in high-pressure situations. I find meditation, exercise, and spending time with loved ones to help maintain a positive mindset."

You finally meet his gaze, and a genuine smile graces your lips. His words echo within you, offering a glimmer of hope and comfort.

You both stand from your meditation spot, and you begin to walk back together. Along the way, your hands and arms sometimes brush against each other, creating a subtle but electrifying contact. Your mind starts to wander, but you quickly remind yourself that he's your teammate and not to read too much into it. He cares about you, but it doesn't necessarily mean romantic love.

Arriving back at the huts where you were originally staying, you notice that his family is awake and eagerly waiting for both of you. The air is filled with anticipation as you join them, ready to embrace the day ahead.

✧*̥˚ Timeskip *̥˚✧

The afternoon unfolded with a delightful array of beach activities, including surfing, beach volleyball, and building sandcastles. Laughter and excitement filled the air as you soaked up the sun and relished the refreshing ocean breeze.

As you lounged on a reclining beach chair, enjoying the quiet atmosphere, a staff member approached you with a warm smile.

"I hope you're enjoying your stay, ma'am. It's time for your massage," he informed you.

Confused, you glanced over at Lewis, who winked in response.

Ah, so this was one of the surprises he had planned.

With a nod, you followed the staff member into a peaceful room decorated with a massage table, inviting relaxation.

"The masseuse will be with you shortly. Please make yourself comfortable on the table while you wait," he instructed kindly.

Expressing gratitude, you settled onto the table, anticipation mixing with a sense of calm. The gentle sound of waves in the distance and the soothing scent of essential oils created an ambiance of tranquility. You closed your eyes, ready to embrace the refreshing experience that awaited you.

"Good day, Ms. (Y/L/N)," she greets you. "This is a spiritual massage."

"Oh, okay," you respond, not fully understanding what she meant.

The masseuse begins to explain the concept of having a spiritual journey. She explains the idea of letting go and detaching from outcomes. She compares it to a river's flow, where resistance only leads to exhaustion and missed opportunities. By surrendering and embracing the natural unfolding of life, you create space for new possibilities.

You listen attentively, realizing the importance of releasing attachments and finding a balance between taking action and trusting in the greater plan.

You lie on the massage table, and the masseuse's words sink in, blending with physical relaxation. You feel a sense of peace and tranquility, grateful for the wisdom shared during this spiritual massage experience.

You were peacefully lost in sleep, you were suddenly awakened by someone. Reacting without thinking, you sat up from the massage table, only to realize that you were wearing nothing but a towel. Embarrassment flushed over you as you noticed Lewis's crimson face, averting his gaze.

"Ummm... I'll wait for you outside," he stuttered hurriedly, clearly flustered by the situation.

It wasn't until you glanced down at your barely covered state that the full weight of embarrassment hit you, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

You appeared from the room fully dressed, finding Lewis waiting for you in the lobby area of the massage parlor.

"Hey, I'm sorry for, umm, scaring you," he apologized.

You simply nodded in response.

"Wait, it's already night?" you exclaimed in surprise.

"Yeah, they're actually waiting for you by the beach for dinner," he informed you.

"But I'm wearing this," you pointed out, referring to the dress you had used to cover your swimwear earlier.

"I actually got you some clothes," he handed you a paper bag.

"Oh, thanks," you said, inspecting the contents.

However, you noticed that the clothes weren't yours, about to mention it to him when he interrupted you.

"It's a gift for you."

You returned to the room to change into the beautiful dress he had gifted you, accompanied by matching jewelry. The gesture left you in awe, wondering how much effort and cost he had put into the gift.

"I'm ready," you called out to him.

He stood up and opened the door for you, and together you made your way to dinner with his family.

You joined the Hamilton family for a beachside dinner, the atmosphere filled with warmth and the scent of the sea. You sat together, the sound of waves crashing in the background created a soothing ambiance.

During the meal, you shared stories and laughter with the family, feeling a sense of belonging and gratitude. As the conversation flowed, you couldn't help but express your newfound spiritual journey.

"I wanna thank you all for making me come here," you began, your voice filled with sincerity.

Each family member listened intently, their eyes reflecting curiosity and support. One by one, you thanked them for their presence in your life, acknowledging the love and guidance they had given you.

"And Lewis, I want to thank you for giving me a another chance"

Lewis's eyes met yours, and you could see the sincerity and appreciation in his gaze. A shared understanding passed between you, acknowledging the growth and connection you had found through this journey.

The dinner came to an end, and the sky with shades of orange and pink, you felt a deep sense of gratitude for this moment and the people surrounding you. The beachside setting, the delicious food, and the company of the Hamilton family created a truly unforgettable experience.

Both of you walked back along the shoreline, the cool sand beneath your feet and the gentle sea breeze caressing your skin.

You continued walking, enjoying each other's company without any specific destination in mind. Eventually, you stumbled upon a charming hut illuminated by flickering candle lights

"You never cease to surprise me," you say, smiling at Lewis.

"It's all part of my charm," he teased, playfully settling into the hammock and making room for you. You scanned the surroundings, ensuring privacy, before joining him. Side by side, you gazed up at the night sky adorned with sparkling stars.

Then, unexpectedly, Lewis spoke up. "If there's anything you want to ask me... feel free. I want to stop hiding."

His candid admission caught you off guard. You felt a rush of emotions, realizing there were numerous questions you longed to ask. Yet, amidst the whirlwind of thoughts, there was one pressing matter that weighed heavily on your mind.

You shifted slightly, attempting to conceal the vulnerability that seeped through your words, apprehensive about his response.

"Why do you hate me so much?" you inquired, your voice tinged with a mix of confusion and pain.

"I don't," Lewis replied earnestly, his voice filled with sincerity.

Perplexed, you pressed on, seeking understanding. "But why...?"

"I didn't want to make things harder for being connected to me," Lewis confessed, his words carrying a hint of remorse.

"Being the only woman on the racing grid, you already face a lot of difficulties and criticism. I didn't want to add to that," he continued, his voice filled with longing. "You have no idea how much I wanted to be closer to you. From the moment you made your debut with Williams, you radiated joy and positivity. I could only admire you from a far, I can't even show you my true feelings."

His true feelings?

"When I learned you were moving to Mercedes, I was thrilled. But... if the truth came out, the media would twist it into a different story: 'Lewis Hamilton makes a move on a teammate.' I couldn't let them do that to you. I wanted to protect you," Lewis revealed, his voice laced with a mixture of regret and affection.

You fell silent, taking in Lewis's heartfelt words and the weight of his apology. His sincerity resonated with you, and you could sense his genuine remorse.

"I never apologized about the crash we had and the way I've been acting," Lewis admitted softly. "I'm sorry, (Y/N)."

His words held a hint of regret and a genuine desire for reconciliation. He acknowledged his shortcomings as a teammate and expressed his wish to have been more supportive, even in private.

You contemplated his apology, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you. The hurt from the incident still lingered, but his genuine remorse and effort to make amends touched a chord within you.

"Thank you for saying that," you finally spoke, your voice carrying a blend of vulnerability and understanding. "It's been hard, and I've held onto those feelings for a while. Your apology means a lot, and I appreciate your honesty."

You paused, allowing the moment to sink in before continuing. "I can't say that everything is forgiven and forgotten, but I'm willing to try and move forward. We can work on rebuilding our relationship as teammates and find a way to support each other better."

Lewis nodded, his eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and determination. "Thank you for giving me a chance, and I promise to make things right."

The night continued, you both sat in the hammock under the soft glow of candlelight, engaged in heartfelt conversations, and slowly but surely, the walls between you began to crumble, paving the way for a new chapter in your journey together.

The night enveloped you both, creating an intimate space where words flowed freely and emotions intertwined. The air was filled with a mix of vulnerability, anticipation, and a shared understanding of the connection growing between you.

Lewis's question lingered in the air, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement and possibility. The world seemed to hold endless opportunities, and you were ready to embrace them.

"I have so many plans," you replied, a spark of enthusiasm igniting within you. "I want to continue pushing myself in my racing career, exploring new tracks, and striving for excellence. But beyond that, I want to discover more about myself, delve deeper into my passions, and chase my dreams fearlessly."

You paused, allowing your gaze to meet Lewis's unwavering eyes. There was an unspoken understanding between you, a recognition of the shared journey ahead.

"And with you by my side, I believe we can accomplish great things together," you added, a soft smile playing on your lips.

Lewis's expression softened, mirroring your excitement and determination.

"I feel the same way," he confessed, his voice carrying a depth of emotion. "With you, I've found inspiration, strength, and a renewed sense of purpose. I want to support you in every way I can, both on and off the track."

At that moment, as your eyes locked and your hearts beat in unison, you knew that your paths had converged for a reason. The world had shifted, and the future seemed filled with infinite possibilities.

Together, you were ready to embrace the challenges, celebrate the victories, and create a bond that would fuel your shared dreams. With hearts intertwined, you embarked on a journey that would redefine both your racing careers and your lives, forever connected by a love that bloomed amidst the roar of engines and the pursuit of greatness.

His touch was gentle, like a whisper against your skin. The back of his hand traced a delicate path, caressing your face with tender care. His face drew nearer, and you felt a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability. You closed your eyes, surrendering to the moment.

But just as his lips were about to meet yours, he paused. Sensing your hesitation, he leaned his head against your forehead instead. A wave of warmth washed over you as your eyes fluttered open, revealing him so close, his features etched with undeniable beauty.

In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still. You found yourself captivated by the intricate details of his face, his eyes reflecting a depth of emotions. The desire for this moment to stretch into eternity welled up within you, as if longing for an eternal loop, replaying the tenderness and intimacy forever.

The world around you faded into insignificance as you immersed yourself in this shared intimacy, where words were unnecessary and the unspoken language of connection prevailed. In that unguarded moment, you savored the closeness and the profound beauty that existed in the space between you.

It was a moment frozen in time, imprinted on your heart, forever etching his presence into the depths of your soul.

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#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton blurb #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fanfics #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #sir lewis hamilton #teamlh #team lh44 #f1 imagine #f1 fiction #f1 x reader #f1 fandom #f1 lewis #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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writingjourney · 1 year

Text

Friday Nights at the Cinema Club | Vampire!Primo x gn!Reader

Summary: The handsome old gentleman who attends the late night showings is certainly the best part about your small town weekend job. But as the gentle attraction between you slowly begins to bloom, you realise that there’s more to him than meets the eye – and promptly find yourself chased into the woods by an unexpected monster.

Content: 14k words, vampire!primo, gn!reader, horror, violence, being hunted, harassment, men being assholes, smut (18+ MDNI, biting, blood kink/blood drinking, oral sex r!receiving, penetration, coming inside, unprotected sex)

This was originally intended to fill the “hunted” prompt for the @petrifyingpapas challenge. I am a little late but I hope you enjoy it anyway and give Primo his chance to shine! ♡

Masterlist – Ao3 link – Part 2 | Secondo's story

“This life of earth, whatever my attire, Would pain me in its wonted fashion. Too old am I to play with passion; Too young, to be without desire.”

― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust: Part 1

Now

He’s been following you for weeks.

Primo just can’t stop himself, no matter how many times he tells himself that he’s overstepping. As he watches the hurried pace you set, carrying you home in the early hours of a cool spring morning, he smells your distress like an overly strong perfume. Jacket tightly wrapped around your tense shoulders, your steps quicken whenever you leave the safe light of a streetlamp. You’re always nervous walking home alone, even more so since the incident at work.

This is the very thought that calms his conscience – his concern is rightful, necessary even. He has to protect you because you have no one else who will. Not that you cannot protect yourself, he knows you can, you hold your own quite nicely, but why take any unnecessary risks? Four eyes see more than two, especially if two of those have preternatural vision.

Suddenly you stop, glancing around with searching eyes. “Hello?”

Primo stops as well. It’s impossible that you heard him, he didn’t make any sounds that a human ear could process. Your eyes dart in a different direction and he’s on alert immediately. A few rapid beats of your heart pass. You seem to decide that you’re alright because you continue on your journey even if your legs move that extra bit quicker, walking as fast as possible without actually running.

No, Primo knows you don’t need him. You never ask him to walk you home and when he offers, you politely decline every single time. You don’t need him. You don’t need him how he needs you, and yet it feels good to imagine that you do. That anyone does. The thought he will not entertain, however, is that his motive is a selfish one. He’s been lonely for so long that he pours all that he has into this… whatever this is. And why should he not? In all the centuries that passed since he was cast upon this earth you’re the most wonderful thing he ever had the pleasure to behold and his time with you is so tragically limited, no matter what happens.

“Fuck,” he hears you mutter then, effectively distracting him. Again, you stop very suddenly, glancing vaguely into the direction he’s hiding in but without any real focus. “Who the fuck is there?”

Primo doesn’t sense anyone else. Possibly, you just heard a strange noise which wouldn’t be the first time since the incident. You’ve been on edge ever since and understandably so. Of course you don’t know that there is no danger of the same thing ever repeating. Which doesn’t mean you’re safe from other perils. Primo dares to stalk closer, foolishly so, because he’s too close now and you must have spotted his movements in the dark because you start to run like your life depended on it.

To his utter terror, you don’t follow your usual route home but take the shortcut through the woods. With breakneck speed, you run along the mud path that meanders through thick pine trees and mossy hills. Primo has no issue keeping up with you of course but he worries about protruding roots and sharp stones you may not see with your human eyes.

His fear is misdirected. He’s so distracted, watching your every step, that he doesn’t notice the odd smell at first, the second strong, comparatively slow heartbeat amongst all the quiet and rapid ones of the forest animals. But this is no rabbit, no deer, no boar. When he finally notices the presence of the strange entity, the spike of panic is clouding every other rational thought.

He is after you – and he’s fast.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Four weeks ago

The man has been attending the late night showings for weeks now, every Friday and Saturday. Every week, he shows up exactly fifteen minutes before the screening starts, even though there are practically no waiting times in the small club cinema you’re working at. His attire was what drew your attention to him that first night, even before you’d seen his face, and his choice of clothing seems deliberate. Most evenings, he wears simple black slacks over expensive-looking Italian leather brogues. Tonight, he combined them with a loose white shirt with frills and an open collar that peeks out of a burgundy tailcoat with black lapels and gold embroideries. It looks old-fashioned but not out of place in the similarly dated establishment.

As he approaches you behind the counter, you’re struck yet again, despite being familiar with his almost ethereal looks by now. He must be close to eighty but his deep wrinkles only add to his effortless beauty. His most notable feature, however, is the skull paint adorning his stern face with two uncanny, mismatched eyes – one iris in green and one impossibly white. With his face framed by long blond hair spilling over his shoulders, silky and curled at the ends, he looks like a man who knows exactly how to present himself. An air of easy sophistication surrounds him as he takes deliberate steps in your direction. You’re not surprised that he shows up on weekends when your boss screens his beloved classics. At least that’s what he calls any movie that came out before the year 2000.

“So, Dracula today, yes?” It’s not a question as much as a statement, dripping with distaste. “And the 1992 one at that.”

“Do you not enjoy vampires, sir?” you ask, taking the money for his ticket. Every single bill looks pristine, like it’s been freshly printed, and again, he won’t accept the change you hold out to him, waving off with a gentle smile. Buy yourself a drink on my behalf, tesoro, he’d said once, and you aren’t questioning him anymore, you just pocket the money since there is no one you could split it with.

He regards you with interest. “I enjoy them, sì, though I never found their portrayal in cinema quite believable.”

You chuckle. “Well, perhaps that is because they’re not real.”

“Perhaps, yes,” he says unfazed. “Or perhaps it is the clichés, no?”

“I really like the movie,” you admit. “Though I wish she would just get with the vampire. I certainly wouldn’t hesitate.”

He cocks a curious eyebrow. “Davvero?”

His thick Italian accent makes you blush on any given day, even more so when he speaks plain Italian. There is something about the timbre of his voice that changes, like gold melting in the heat of a forge, the syllables fused together with a flick of his tongue.

“Mhm,” is all you can answer.

“Will you watch it as well, little flower?” he asks and you smile at the nickname he chose for you weeks ago when he caught you arranging a bouquet in the foyer.

“Oh, no, I’m not allowed to leave the register unattended. Or… well, watch movies while I’m supposed to work.”

“I see.” He smiles again, the black lines over his lips shifting so that he looks almost gentle, the severity of the paint watered down by the kindness in his eyes. “That is a pity.”

Is he flirting with you? You can’t tell. Surely, he is just being nice, a polite older gentleman. Would you want him to be flirting with you, though? No, of course not. You couldn’t even flirt back. Your boss might fire you if he found out that you even so much as looked at him the wrong way.

“Can I offer you a snack or a drink, sir?” you ask, remembering your actual job.

“You know, I will take a whisky today,” he says. “If you have it.”

“Of course we do, sir, you can choose your seat and I will serve it in a second.”

The stranger heads off towards the screening room with its soft, polished leather armchairs and moody lighting, jazz tunes wafting from the speakers. You look after him, his long hair gently swaying with every step, and the door to the backroom springs open. It’s your boss, Max, a man in his mid-forties, so unremarkable with his shaggy black hair and his blatant misogyny that he could be any man you ever met. Only that he practically owns you by way of paying for your every bill while you finish your degree. Jobs in small towns are hard to come by, decent men even harder.

“Go serve our customer, come on,” he urges. “I heard him ask for something”

“The register…”

“I take it. Move your pretty ass over, perhaps wiggle a bit when you do, the old pervert is going to love it.”

You make to leave without wiggling, heading towards the small serving station in the hallway. “Oh, hey,” Max calls after you. “I need you to clean up tonight. Cleaning lady called in sick. Feeling faint or whatever, broke down in the supermarket if you can believe it. They say she’s anemic, that’s their excuse for everything women have these days.”

“Okay,” you reply, hoping he chokes on his tongue one of these days. “Of course, Max. I’ll clean up. No problem.”

“Be a good little thing, don’t forget to check under the seats, always tons of junk down there after the evening showings.”

You nod and try not to run into the screening room and away from him. By now, all anger towards him has been numbed by the sheer amount of obnoxious remarks but you’re never sure if he’s above trying to actually touch you one day. So far, he’s all bark and no bite, but with men like him you never know. Being the only employee who works the night shifts doesn’t help but there is just not enough demand to bring in the others.

You find the stranger in one of the top rows, comfortably seated in what is your favourite spot as well. A smile creeps onto your face. “Here is your whiskey, sir.”

The man peers up at you in what looks like ingenuine surprise, his white eye showing a glimmer of sympathy. He must have heard you and Max but is clearly trying not to show it. You wonder how – you can’t even hear Max outside right now over the jazz music.

“Grazie mille,” he says as he takes the glass from you.

“Of course, sir. Enjoy your movie.”

“Thank you, fiore.” He smiles, always such a kind smile. “You are a wonderful host.”

You can’t help but smile back, looking at him for just a little longer than is appropriate. But Max must have started the film because the lights dim suddenly until it’s fully dark and you hurry back outside right as the title music starts playing.

Your stranger is the only guest tonight.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Now

You run. You run so fast that your lungs are burning in the cold night air. There is no palpable explanation for why you feel so panicked. For most of your way home you’ve felt almost paranoid in your constant fear of being followed. You felt like someone was watching you right from the start but when you came close to the woods your instincts just told you to run. By now, your legs carry you almost automatically despite the fatigue in your limbs. There is a tiny voice in your head that tells you you’re in danger. Big danger.

Halfway through the forest, the track gets steeper. Less feet have trampled it flat as the usual walking path ends and you struggle to keep up your pace. Unsettling noises grow louder to your right – panting, hurried steps, moans and whimpers. Two seconds later you suddenly hear an echoing growl that puts any wolf to shame. Your head whips around but before you can make out anything in the pitch dark your foot gets caught on a root. The impact is suffocating. Your lungs empty out and you think you’re choking on nothing. Only after a long moment in which you struggle for breath do you feel the sharp pain in your arm where it hit a rock, warm blood seeping into your sleeve until its wet and sticky.

Meanwhile, the steps hurry closer and even in the full moon light it’s hard to tell where you are right now. But then you see the trees swaying at the edge of the path and all you know is that you need to keep going. Everything hurts but you manage to get to your feet. As the world sways around you, you leave the safety of the trail in favour of the cover of the trees, their canopy shielding you from the moonlight and hopefully any following eyes.

But of course the creature chasing you doesn’t rely on their vision to find you. Before you walk another mile you can hear rapid footsteps and panting breaths behind you. Too scared to look around and risk another fall, you just run and jump and run even faster. The woods grow thicker, harder to navigate. You try to fish for your phone but when you finally pull it out, it slips from your grasp. “Fuck fuck fuck,” you mutter but you keep running. You can’t stop.

A familiar boulder appears somewhere in your peripheral vision and you wonder if you’re running in circles. You’re so lost. Even if the creature doesn’t get you, you’re doomed. But the thought is distant as a branch strikes you in the face like a whip. You run but more fallen branches block your path and as you try to jump, you get caught.

A shriek tears from your throat, so loud and drawn-out that your voice gives out before it ends. The steps are so close now that you know you’re going to get caught any second now. Cowering, trying to get as small as possible, you slowly shift around, ready to beg for mercy. An enormous shadow sprints towards you and suddenly, a bright streak of moonlight falls through the trees. You cry out again as your eyes take in the sight: Spit-coated fangs, claws, thick rough fur on what you can only describe as a giant made of muscles and the horrors of the night. Its facial features look familiar, shaggy hair falling into its cruel eyes. Whatever it is has no merciful bone in its body, that much you can tell. This is your death, you realise. This is it.

But before you feel the fangs sink into your skin or the claws tear you open, the monster loses balance. All you can see is a vague human-like figure pushing it aside into the shadows with a strength that is impossible to comprehend, two tall silhouettes wrestling for a moment before the huge hairy creature lets out a bone-chilling scream. The giant body slumps in on itself, lifeless, silent. You breathe in gasps, swallowing air that does nothing to calm you down. You fall over, sobbing silently in short-lived relief.

The monster is dead. But you’re not alone.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Three weeks ago

“So, are you a big movie fan?” the stranger had asked you today when you served him his whiskey. He always orders something now, almost like knowing you serve him permanently changed his ’no thank you’-attitude. Whenever you bring him his order he asks you questions and you end up chatting with him for longer than you should.

“Oh, I like them, yes, but the reason I work here, if that’s why you’re asking, is that it’s one of the few jobs I can do on weekends that pays extra for night shifts.”

“So do you have a day job as well?” he asks, taking his first sip. He’s wearing all black today, black leather gloves, a black shirt and black tailcoat. The only pop of colour is a red rose that he has tugged into a buttonhole of his open jacket.

“Finishing off my degree,” you explain. “I don’t think I’ll work here after that.”

His brow furrows in surprise. “No?”

You chuckle. “No, it doesn’t pay that well. It doesn’t pay well at all, actually.”

“I see.” He turns the tumbler in his hand, the amber liquid twirling inside. “I have to say I am glad. I do not think he treats you well.”

You glance towards the door but Max seems to be busy behind the counter still. “He’s… okay.”

The stranger huffs out a laugh. “No, è un stronzo.”

The smirk that tugs at your lips is hard to shake off, especially with the way he rolls the R in the word. “Yeah, he is. But I have to pay rent and get groceries, so...”

“I understand.” Another sip, slow, barely coating his lips. “Fiore, I do wonder… what is it that you truly burn for? What would you do if no restrictive invention like money mattered?”

You take a deep breath and then you start to tell him about your real interests, your passions. He listens with the avid attention of someone who genuinely cares, who doesn’t just ask out of mere politeness. It’s addicting, the way his intense eyes are glued to your lips, how his whole body is angled into your direction. You get so lost in his gaze, in your explanation, that you forget yourself for a moment.

“Eh!” Max suddenly calls out from the doorway and you jump at the sound of his voice. “Come over for a second, will you?”

You reluctantly leave the stranger in his armchair with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. Enjoy your movie, sir.”

“I will,” he says. “Thank you, fiorellino.”

Max watches you with a scowl, roughly pulling you aside as soon as you’re within reach. “Do I pay you for chitchat?”

“No, Max, I’m sorry. I just…”

“You just what?” he snaps, clenching his jaw. “Flirting with the old men won’t get you higher tips, it only screams pathetic whore. You think he can still get it up?”

You stay silent, waiting for him to calm down enough to notice the impropriety of his words and actions. The urge to kick him is so hard to fight that you have to actively push your feet harder into the ground. Your fists ache with how hard you’re clenching them.

Eventually he simmers down, smoothing out his shirt as he clears his throat. “Anyway, you need to clean up again today. The cleaner still hasn’t shown up.”

“What happened?” you ask.

He shrugs but it’s an ingenuine, uncaring gesture. “Apparently she ran away or something. She’s been missing for a while.”

Missing? Wasn’t she anemic? Before you can ask any more questions he leaves you standing right there to start the movie. You head back to the register even though you know no other guests are going to be coming in tonight. For the whole duration of the movie, all you do is wait, scrolling on your phone from where you’re hiding it underneath the desk. No local news site is able to tell you anything about the missing cleaner other than the fact that she just left over night exactly a week ago and hasn’t been found ever since.

“Oh, did we miss the movie?”

You look up to see two men strolling into the lobby. They sway slightly, probably drunk, and smoke despite the big no-smoking sign at the entrance that’s impossible to miss. They look familiar in how unremarkable they appear, one is blond, the other one dark-haired, jeans and crumpled t-shirts betraying their status even though they move with the confident audacity only mediocre white men have.

“Yes, I’m sorry. The movie is almost over,” you say. “By the way, you’re not allowed to smoke in here, sir.”

“Are you off soon, then, sweetheart?” the blond one asks, taking another drag of his cigarette

“No, I have to clean up.”

“Ah, cleaning up… whatever, can’t be that dirty in there, huh?” He grins. “Unless… we make it dirty.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, a feisty one!” the dark-haired man says. “That’s how you treat your customers?”

“You haven’t bought anything.”

They whistle almost in unison, though their tunes are slightly off-key. This is not the first time this happens, it’s not even the first time these exact men show up here and try to harass you.

“Come on, maybe you can show us where you keep the liquor?” the blond man asks. “Have a drink with us?”

“I don’t think so, sir. If you don’t want to buy anything, I have to ask you to leave.” You try to stay polite, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “Please.”

He chuckles, tries to round the counter to touch you but there is a sudden shift in atmosphere. It’s almost like all of the warmth is sucked from the room, like the charged air of a thunderstorm is crackling inside its walls. The men seem to feel it too because they suddenly stop in their movements, giving each other nervous glances.

“You were asked to leave, signori, no?”

You look up to find your stranger entering the lobby. The movie must have ended because the lights are on again and he looks so menacing that even you feel a chill running down your spine. His white eye glimmers dangerously, the other one shimmering almost red now but it could be a trick of lighting. They’re narrowed, the skull paint and severity of his features giving him the air of a predator. When the blond man takes another step into your direction, out of spite or stupidity you’re not quite sure, the stranger is on him in a second. You’re surprised by how agile he appears in his age, wondering briefly if he just looks older than he is or if you’re just prejudiced. But the man backs away immediately, joining his buddy by the door. A second later Max enters as well from the backroom, looking mildly irritated but unbothered by the weird atmosphere as he slams the door shut.

“Any issues here?” he asks, taking in the two loiterers.

The men slowly backtrack, holding up their arms in pretend innocence. While the dark-haired one slips out the door, the blond man lingers. “No issue, no. Just had a question about your schedule.”

Max gives a dismissive wave of his hand and when the man is finally gone, he turns to you. “Were you rude to our customers?”

“They weren’t customers,” you say defensively, angry that he’d even assume something like that. “They were drunks.”

“Hmpf.” He gives the stranger another glance, still unimpressed, then grabs his bag from under the counter. “I’m off now. See you tomorrow. And hey, don’t forget to clean and lock up.”

“Yeah, see you,” you say, trying to swallow the lump of anger in your throat.

As soon as Max is gone, the stranger’s whole demeanour changes. His expression softens and he reaches out, his hand hovering right by your arm.

“You are alright, little flower?” he asks.

You nod but it’s hard to fight off the tears. Situations like that make you feel helpless and you hate it. Being at the mercy of these men is frustrating, especially with a boss who just lets it slide instead of protecting his employees. You could have handled the situation, you tell yourself, you’ve had to handle so many similar ones before, but it just feels so incredibly good that someone cares.

“I think so,” you finally choke out. “I just… This is not uncommon and I’m so fed up.”

“I understand,” he says. “Did these men bother you before?”

“Yeah, but other people as well. Even Max treats me like a piece of meat just because I’m young.”

There is a hidden anger in his face, a barely noticeable clench of his jaw, his brow slightly pulled together. You’re not scared anymore, though. The menacing energy he exudes is directed at something else, not you, and you can’t bring yourself to wonder how he manages to command a room like that.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” he asks.

You nod and he reaches out, running a gloved hand up and down your arm in silent comfort. You take a step closer and he lifts his other hand as well, gently cradling your cheek. When a fat tear of anger falls from your eye he catches it, telling you it’s okay if you need to let it out. But you don’t cry, you don’t want to feel weak or fall into his arms like a sobbing child. Nevertheless, his comfort feels like a gentle hug, calming you so easily.

For a moment, he lets you breathe in the same air, a leather-clad thumb swiping over your cheekbone with a calming steadiness. You smile at him and he smiles back, so softly that not even the skull paint can hide the gentleness of his features.

“I have to clean up now,” you say. “Thank you for being here.”

He simply nods, slowly pulling away from you. Only when he’s gone and you smell a faint flowery scent do you notice that he’s tugged the rose from his jacket into your hair. You press it to your chest, right above your fluttering heart, and pray that he never stops coming back.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Their blood tastes like shit.

Not literally but it’s by far the worst he’s had in a while, certainly worse than that of the cleaning lady he’s been feeding on last month. Admittedly, he did not consider that losing her would prompt your boss to just make you work longer. At the time she was just an easy victim on his way home, sweet young blood that was easy to obtain, the blue veins shining through her pale skin like they were begging to be used. But as he cleans his jaw with a handkerchief, Primo thinks that perhaps he can linger after the movies now. Any more time with you, however long, is of immeasurable value to him.

A groan. Primo looks down at the man, the blond stronzo who tried to touch you. He feels no sympathy, no reluctance. Full moon rolls around in three weeks and if they happen to die before then… well, bad luck for his partner. Though he can’t say he’s very tempted to drink from them again with all the junk in their blood – cheap alcohol, so much nicotine and other poisons. Perhaps he should just end it now, they’re at his mercy in any case. But no, they deserve to be punished for what they did and he knows bleeding out is not a very painful death.

Primo is not a cruel man, he likes to think. The nature of his being prompts him to act cruelly sometimes for self-preservation but unlike some of his fellows he finds no enjoyment in the kill. Not anymore, not after his initial lust for blood was quenched centuries ago. Nevertheless, he has to admit that his obsession with you is testing those limits in ways he’s never felt before. For you, he thinks, he could turn into a killer.

A gurgle. The second man is starting to wake up and Primo decides to leave. He placed the wounds in unobtrusive spots, never using both fangs to puncture their skin, too obvious. They’re going to think they’re hungover and move on but he’s going to find them again, slowly drain them until the next full moon is here and they’ll find their demise in a different way.

Primo is not a killer, no, but he chooses the killer’s victims.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Now

You’re frozen in your spot amongst the thicket, branches and rocks digging into your body, the throbbing pain in your arm slowly spreading out. The sight before you is absurd. A giant dead body, a monster, a… a werewolf? You can’t bring yourself to properly think the word and yet you know that’s what it is. Not that it matters anymore. The smell of death mixes in with the earthy scent of the woods and spreads out in the air around you. The second figure hovers above the body for as long as it takes you to gather your thoughts. Why, you cannot tell. Are they shocked by their actions? Making sure the creature is really dead? There seems to be a hesitation in their every movement as they slowly back away and move into your direction, their frame blurring with the surrounding darkness.

“Stand back,” you yell. “Don’t come closer!”

Your voice is high-pitched, unrecognisable in its trembling state, hoarse from screaming into the emptiness around you. Your fear has your senses heightened and every snap of a twig, every howl of the wind makes you flinch. The being before you now is smaller than the one before, human-shaped if your eyes don’t betray you. The canopy is so thick here, the trees surrounding you so close to one another that you struggle to see anything. And yet you can feel them moving.

“Stop,” you yell again. “Fucking stop!”

A sudden sliver of light catches their face and you can see two glowing eyes, the one that you know as a deep green shimmering red like it did in the lobby of the theatre the night the two men harassed you and the other one is still as white as bone. “It’s okay, fiore mio. You’re safe now,” he says and you immediately recognize the Italian accent, the nickname. “I’m here to help you.”

You slump in on yourself, not quite relieved but still a little calmer.

It’s him. It’s your stranger.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Two weeks ago

“It’s nothing personal,” Max says. “But I’m losing money here.”

You nod like you understand. You do understand, just not why it has to be now of all times, so close to when you would have been done anyway. A few more months.

“Just not enough people coming in,” he continues. “And the old guy doesn’t pay that much no matter how often you flirt him up.”

Again, all you can do is nod. Your boss wants to cancel the night showings and lay you off. Supposedly, no other shifts are in need of any more people and he can’t keep you on. It’s a cheap excuse, you know it is.

“So, I’m off then,” he says. “You can manage on your own one last time, right?”

You nod at him once again, watching him whistling a merry tune and twirling his keys on a finger on his way out. The tears come only after you hear his car driving off. You have no idea how to find another weekend job for the next few months and the sheer surprise of his decision has your stomach in knots. If he’d at least given you some time to prepare…

“Buonasera, fiore. Can I… uhm…” You look up into the stranger’s eyes, trying to wipe at your tears but it’s too late, his expression has already changed into what you can only assume is pity. “Scusi, is this a bad time? Can I help you, perhaps?”

“I’m so sorry… I just… Ugh, Max wants to cancel the late night screenings,” you explain, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “I guess this is our last night here.”

“Cancel?”

You sniffle, your voice scratchy when you speak next. “Well, as you may have noticed, you’re kind of our only guest.”

The stranger takes your hand, soft leather pulling you from the desk and towards one of the run-down couches in the waiting area. He’s so gentle when he beckons you to his side, never letting go of your hand.

“He wants to fire you, sì?”

You nod, staring at your intertwined hands against the velvet upholstering of the couch. His thumb draws lazy circles into your skin, his hand so big it almost swallows yours. You want him to swallow you as well, his whole body wrapped around yours, engulfing you with his safety – but you’re not sure that you could ask him for a hug.

“I’m sorry, it’s really not your problem. I mean, you’ll lose your weekend activities but I’m sure you can just get Netflix or something.”

“Netflix?”

You look up with a smile. “Or… I don’t know, buy a DVD.”

The stranger smiles back, squeezing your hand just a little bit tighter. “Now, my little flower, do you really think I am just here for the movies?”

When your eyes meet it’s like you’re sucked into a vacuum. You don’t know whether to focus on his white iris or the burning need that’s visible in his green eye. The decision is taken from you when he leans in and captures your mouth in a kiss. You reciprocate without hesitation and yet he’s holding back, a suppressed moan bubbling in his throat, despite the tenderness of his lips. It’s not enough, not nearly enough. You press against him, opening your lips for him, and then the moan finally spills out as his tongue vibrates against yours. His free hand pushes into your hair and settles at the back of your head, angling your face in whichever way he wants to taste you. His lips feel surprisingly cold just like his cheek as you bring a hand up to touch him. The makeup smears under your fingers, at your jaw, mingling with your spit.

And yet it’s not enough, not until you’re half in his lap, until his hands roam your body with reverent desperation, searching, exploring. The kiss never loses momentum. He sucks in a breath and you push your tongue into his mouth, running it along his upper lip until you can feel his teeth. You frown into the kiss when you feel something pointy, pulling your tongue back, but there is no time to think before he sucks at your bottom lip. A sharp sting as he punctures your flesh with his teeth. He moans as the taste of your blood settles between your joined lips, sucking whatever he can into his mouth. You allow him to drink you in, offering yourself up in a way you haven’t done with anyone else before.

There is a moment in which you think, hope, that it never ends. But then he pulls away and you gasp for air. You stare at him, traces of red blood fuzing into the grey smears around his mouth. He’s a mess, equal to how you feel, but his eyes are focused, his gaze sharp.

“Do you want to see the movie?” you ask, hoping he’ll say no, hoping he’ll just take you away.

But he just chuckles, his hands slowly disappearing from your body until you slump into the soft cushions on the couch.

“Actually, I think I have to leave early tonight,” he says. “I will see you next week, fiore mio. Please, per favore, do not worry about your job, I will set things right.”

You want to ask what he means, if he’s going to talk to Max for you, but before you realise that he’s leaving, before you even finish blinking, he’s already gone. Furrowing your brow, you walk outside and enter a clear moonless night. Your flushed face soaks up the cool air and you look around, searching feverishly, but there is no sign of your stranger. You expect to see him along the sidewalk, perhaps he’s in one of the cars getting ready, but even after a few more minutes none of them roar to life. Nothing disrupts the soft silence of your sleeping small town and you shake your head in wonder as you make your way back inside, the metallic taste of your blood still lingering on your tongue.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Primo is livid, furious in a way that he hasn’t felt in close to a hundred years. You are not part of their deal and yet this feels like a violation of conduct. Making you cry should be a criminal offense and he wants him to pay for it, in what currency Primo is not sure yet. He knows he can’t let his anger win but when he smells the creature from two streets away, even in his human form, he’s ready to sink his teeth into his throat. And of course he finds him in a nearby bar, nursing a beer while he watches football videos on his phone without a care in the world.

“You won’t fire them,” Primo spits out.

Max looks up in pretend confusion. “Huh?”

“You heard me, stronzo.”

“Your little flower?” He pouts, mocking him, then huffs out a laugh. “It’s business, man.”

“The job is important,” Primo says calmly, trying not to get too riled up. “A few more months.”

“Cry me a river. Just do with them what you want, fuck them, suck them dry. Whatever gets your blood pumping, Count Dracula.” A sardonic smirk. “Oh oops, I forgot.”

Primo won’t be provoked, not from the likes of him. “You’ll give them time,” he says calmly. “Or I have to rethink this… agreement.”

Max sighs in annoyance. “Fine. A little longer. And don’t think I haven’t smelled you on those two assholes yet. I only get to feast once a month and I expect the vampire to have better taste, that’s why I agreed to this in the first place.”

“I do have taste,” Primo says. “And we both know that’s not the reason or why are you sitting here all alone, lupetto, eh?”

Max snarls but says nothing to this painful reminder. Primo doesn’t feel bad. Their agreement serves the sole purpose of attracting less attention and would not work if Max wasn’t an outcast. Their solitariness saves them and keeps their peace intact. For now.

Primo leaves with an aching heart, hoping the werewolf stays true to his word. He comes back to the cinema only to see that you got done in the meantime and left. It’s not like he actually planned to continue what you started earlier but he really wants to catch another glimpse of you, see how you’re feeling after what happened.

He finds you two streets away, hurrying home even faster than usual. You’re scared, he can tell immediately as he hears your rapid heartbeat, the blood rushing through your body like a raging river. Since the two men tried to corner you you’ve been especially on edge. He knows it’s because you expect them to try again and he wishes he could tell you that they won’t, that he’s watching over you, that he’s been slowly draining them ever since despite the awful taste of their blood. He can handle it, he can handle anything if it’s for you.

Only for you.

Primo relaxes after he sees you closing the door to your apartment and your heartbeat slows down. That’s when he leaves – always. He’s promised himself that he never lingers, that he doesn’t stalk or overstep, only makes sure you get home safely after your shifts. Tonight, it’s harder to leave. He can still taste you on his tongue and what a taste it is. Never before has he savoured blood quite so sweet, quite so rich in aroma, and the violent hunger inside of him tries to keep him by your house for more.

But the kiss was a mistake to begin with and he’s not sure yet how to proceed because he never expected you to respond quite so enthusiastically to his advances. Of course he could immediately tell that you wanted him, the smell and taste of your excitement so overpowering that it cut off any reasonable thought while it happened. He hasn’t lost control of himself like that in over two hundred years and now he set things in motion that may cost him this precious connection that he has with you if he’s not careful.

For now, however, he allows himself this small pleasure and lets the happy, giddy feeling settle in his hollow chest. If he wasn’t aware that he was a few centuries old he would promptly assume that he’s a lovestruck teenager. And he could get used to it, he realises, because with you he’s quite ready to start this empty life all over again and fill it with everything that he’s been missing.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Now

“You’re a vampire,” you state, twigs and stones digging into your butt but you feel to weak to stand up.

The stranger approaches you slowly like you’re a wild animal he’s trying to tame, the roles reversed now in your agitation and his calmness. “I am, sì.”

The urge to back away, to run for your life, continues to simmer in your belly but you fight it because you know there is no escape now. You want to trust him but you feel like you’re in a fever dream. It has to be a hallucination, maybe you were drugged at work today, maybe you inhaled the fume of some rare mushroom when you fell.

Your eyes meet the dead creature again. “Is he-”

“Yes, Max is dead.”

“Max?” Your shrill voice betrays your shock. “My boss?”

“Yes.” He sounds oddly calm, not like he just killed a werewolf. “Please, allow me to take you home with me.”

“Home? Your home?”

“Yes, my little flower. I want to look at your scrapes and cuts. Allow me, please.”

You hesitate, even as you see the shape of his outstretched hand, the same black leather gloves now ripped and torn, revealing slivers of his pale skin.

“I understand you don’t… trust me,” he says. “But I promise, I will explain everything to you in as much detail as you want and then you can decide for yourself. I just want to make sure you are okay first.”

You swallow, your throat still painfully sore from screaming. “Are you going to… I don’t know, drink from me? Eat me?”

“I will not eat you. And I will not drink from you either,” he says. “All I want is to look after you.”

You suck in a deep breath, ready to collapse on the forest floor. He could lure you into a trap, he could have been plotting this for weeks now, and yet you still feel the butterflies in your belly stirring at the sound of his voice, your body aching to be with his, even now in its weak state. Reluctantly, you place your mud-smeared hand in his and when he lifts you up with ease, his arms wrap around you tightly. You have no strength to lift your arms but you let him hug you anyway, slumping against his frame.

And perhaps you’ve lost your mind. Perhaps you should use the opportunity to kick him, to fight, but instead you start to sob into his shoulder. The world you thought you knew comes crashing down around you and he holds you through it, whispering that it’s going to be alright.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

One week ago

You can’t stop thinking about him.

The week passes slowly but you do get a text message from Max telling you he’s extending your employment for as long as it takes you to find a new job. You have no idea how your stranger convinced him but you never wanted to get back to work so urgently before – to thank him, to ask if there is a chance that you could see him outside of this place.

Any thought you can spare is spent thinking back to your kiss, extending it in your mind for hours and hours, exploring the fantasy alone in your bed at night with your hand between your legs. You ignore any of the worries that this intimate moment conjured up. So what if the stranger has a bit of a blood kink and conveniently sharp teeth? You certainly don’t mind doing it again. He can bite you wherever he wants, you realise, and you’d gladly let him suck on the wound.

He’s back Friday night and you can’t help but feel relieved that he’s not ghosting you after his sudden disappearance last week. Maybe it’s because of your intense crush on him but you swear he looks more beautiful tonight than ever before. His long blond hair is shiny and smooth as it falls into his face, the paint more pristine than usual. He’s wearing his usual black slacks but today he paired it with a deep red shirt under a black tailcoat with a red pattern of embroidered roses. His tall, slender frame leans against the counter as he regards you with a smile.

“So, what am I watching tonight?” he asks.

“Hitchcock,” you say. “The Birds. Max is a big fan.”

“Hm, I haven’t watched that one since it premiered,” he says and then he removes his gloves. You watch as he slides his now bare hand over the counter until it touches yours.

“Well, I’m afraid I wasn’t born yet back then.”

“No, fiore.” He runs his thumb over the back of your hand. His skin is cold and pale and wrinkly, the lines and bumps revealing a map of his life that you can’t wait to explore. His long fingers slide under yours, surprisingly sharp black nails raking over your palm until he holds you comfortably. They look almost manicured, his hand dwarfing yours as he closes it. “You’re such a young thing and yet our souls have found such a deep connection, no?”

You gaze into his mismatched eyes, a fondness in them that makes your heart beat faster. As if he can feel it, the corners of his painted mouth curl upwards into a smirk until you can see the crow’s feet under his eyes deepen despite the dark paint.

“Yes,” you finally say. “Actually, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to–”

You’re interrupted by the door to the backroom opening. You jump, pulling your hand from his as you see Max casting you a curious glance. He’s been in a bad mood all evening so you’re not taking any risks tonight.

You cough. “Ugh, here’s your ticket, sir. Enjoy the movie.”

The stranger doesn’t seem offended by your reaction. Instead he smiles at you, accepting the ticket from your shaky hand. “Grazie, fiore. I will let you know if I enjoyed it.”

As he leaves for the screening room he doesn’t even look at Max. You remain frozen behind the counter, watching his elegant form with a rapidly beating heart. Mindlessly clenching the hand he just held in his, you desperately hope you get to ask your question later.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

The werewolf won’t leave earlier tonight. As he lets the movie run in the background, only vaguely paying attention, Primo listens for any signs. It looks like he has to sit it out today, though, even as his patience slowly wears thin. One more week until full moon, so Max must be getting antsy, and Primo made sure to keep the prey alive despite his protests in the bar. Every time he feeds from them, he is tempted to bite into an artery instead of a vein, watch them bleed out, not even drinking their blood. But having Max go hungry will piss him off and since he is already aware of you, Primo can’t risk not providing him with any easier targets.

After the movie concludes, Primo lingers but he doesn’t spot you in the foyer. When Max finally heads out he sees no reason not to look for you and conveniently, the only place you could be at is especially private.

The backroom houses a tiny kitchenette and two desks for computers with displays that are already black. You’re standing in front of the open door of a supply closet to gather your cleaning materials when he approaches soundlessly.

“Don’t be scared,” he says from a safe distance. “It is just me, fiore.”

You spin around, your beautiful face lighting up at the sight of him. “Oh, hello.”

“I owe you the money for the ticket,” he says. “You never gave me a chance to pay.”

“Oh. Yes. Sorry… It’s not… I’m not embarrassed or anything, it’s just that Max…”

“Oh, it is quite alright, fiore mio, I know.”

A grateful smile. You don’t flinch when he steps in front of you, taking your hand in his to press a soft kiss to your palm. How lovely you are, Primo thinks, a pure, honest sort of beauty that he doesn’t deserve but wants with every fibre of his ancient being. He could show you a whole new world of pleasure and he knows it’s always the quiet ones who are so proficient in the art of sin.

“I was hoping I would have some more time with you,” you say and he perks up.

“Were you?”

“The kiss…” A hint of red dusting your cheeks as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “I really enjoyed it.”

Primo can’t help but smile. “Me too, my little flower. Perhaps we should try it again?”

He can hear your heartbeat quickening at his words, can feel your skin heating up with the rush of your blood. Even now he is surprised by the evidence of your returned affections, struck by how perfect you are for him, your trust just another sign of hope that you can find it in you to love him back if he allows you to.

“Just tell me if you want me to stop,” he says and then he effortlessly pulls you into his arms. To his surprise, you kiss him first, standing on your tiptoes and melting into his body. Your mouth is insistent, soft and sweet and so eager for him. Primo’s hands explore the shape of your body, memorising your curves for eternity. Impatient now, he pulls you over to the kitchenette that consists of nothing but a mirror over a sink with a few cupboards housing a coffee machine and snacks. There is enough space for what he’s planning to do, though, and he grabs you tightly before he removes his tongue from your mouth.

He can’t see his own image in the old silvered mirror as he hoists you up but he can see the dips of his fingers in your ass as it hits the counter. You hold onto his shoulders as he kisses down your jaw and chin. He skips your neck, skips the temptation, and drags his mouth down your chest instead, ripping the button of your shirt open as he goes. No complaint leaves your lips, only soft gasps and tiny whimpers. Primo pauses to pull at his gloves and then at your pants and then at your underwear, impatient, urgent, until he can finally feel your hot skin burning against his fingertips. Goosebumps form where his cold hands touch you and you shiver against his palms.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please.”

He knows what you’re begging for and under different circumstances he might make you beg until your voice gives out but with the smell of your arousal in his nose there is really no way he can hold back now. His hands on your hips pull you to the edge of the counter and he kneels between your thighs, placing two open-mouthed kisses that leave blotchy grey marks. Your eyes are half-lidded, hazy with lust as he gazes up at you and that’s enough to break his resolve. As he wraps his lips around your most sensitive spot, sucking gently, your head lolls back in pleasure. You’re so hot, so sensitive, reacting to even the softest of stimulations, and it’s addicting in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

You cling to the edge of the counter as his mouth works on you with violent passion, urging you higher and higher with his lips and his tongue, carefully avoiding his teeth. The taste of your arousal is so intoxicating that he can’t stop himself from moaning and he can feel a shudder tearing through your body. Primo increases his pace and you move your hips as well, following his rhythm and chasing your pleasure without shame.

You cum with a scream. Your hand digs into his hair, tugging, holding on with surprising force and it’s the most delicious pain he’s ever felt. He runs his fingers through your cum, licking them clean with a soft hum as he tastes you once again. But he needs more, he needs so much more–

“Do you want to come home with me?” you ask breathlessly as he gets up from his knees, the pain in his joints distracting him momentarily. “Spend the rest of the night?”

He looks at you in surprise but then a soft smile forms on his face. You’re so eager, so fearless. “You should be careful who you invite into your home,” he says. “You may find yourself hosting guests other’s would not deem welcome.”

You huff out a laugh. “What, like the devil?”

A chuckle and he presses a kiss to your forehead, longing to feel your warm skin on his cool lips again. “I wish I could, fiorellino, but I’m afraid my schedule is a little different from yours.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means we have to do this another time,” he explains, despite the painful tightness in his pants. “Preferably, I want to invite you to dinner. I don’t like that we did this in here, it is not very… classy. Maybe next Saturday?”

“Oh, okay sure,” you say, a hint of confusion crossing your face. “Of course.”

He stands to his full height, his frame towering above yours and it takes him every ounce of self-control not to just take you right here. You’re pliant, needy for him in ways he’s only ever dreamed of, and while it tempts him to no end he suddenly becomes painfully aware of his responsibility. He needs to get your full consent before he gives in to a possible relationship with you. But right now is not the moment to tell you what he is.

“This… this is not you turning me down, right?” you ask with wide, hopeful eyes.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Oh no, tesorino, this is just the start of what I want to do with you and now that I got a taste, I don’t think I will ever get enough.”

You smile, the bliss of your high still evident on your face, and he rubs your thighs in small circles for a moment, the softness of your skin a gentle reminder of how fragile you are. Primo leans in to kiss you and fights a grin when you lick into his mouth to taste yourself. Maybe not so fragile, he thinks, maybe your hunger matches his after all.

“I will see you next Saturday, fiore mio,” he says. “I’ll be here to pick you up and we can dine at my home.”

You nod tiredly and he feels bad for leaving you like this after what just transpired. He can smell your cum on his fingers even as he waits for you to finish work and probably will for the next few days. But Primo needs to collect his thoughts. This is the start of something big, something messy, and now that he tampered with the forces there is no going back. The regret that comes with it is excruciating. He can invite you to dinner, treat you like you’re the stars in the night sky, make love to you until you both pass out in exhausted bliss – but it won’t change what he is. And what he is might scare you off. The thought pains him but he tries to cling to the small shimmering light of hope inside his heart that perhaps you can accept him.

Until he figures out the logistics of having you over for dinner without giving you the scare of a lifetime, he decides to keep away from you. The temptation is too strong now, his need, his hunger, a quickly expanding black-hole inside of him that might eat you alive if he’s not careful.

His resolve is strong, he tells himself, and it remains strong all week. Well, that is until he sees you running into the woods a mere day before your date, chased by a starving werewolf.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Now

He lives in the old castle at the edge of town.

It really shouldn’t come as a surprise but as he carries you through candle-lit hallways and multiple small chambers, old is the last thing that comes to your mind. Everything looks well-kept, orderly, the old-fashioned style of his attire translating to the interior as well. You never stay in any room for too long, the castle so big that you have to climb several staircases until you reach another long hallway. Several men in black hooded robes that look like monk’s habits pass you on your way. They don’t turn into your direction as you pass, some of them carry books, some carry laundry.

“Who are these men?” you ask.

“They’re my ghouls.”

“Ghouls?”

“Mhm.”

You don’t ask any further questions but cling to your stranger’s neck even though there is no need to. You’re safe in his arms, his strength limitless, and he does not seem tired even as you finally enter a chamber that appears to be his bedroom. Big arched windows make up one whole wall of the room and a double glass door that seems to lead to a balcony. The only light source is the full moon outside, casting milky white rays through the old windows. A huge wooden bed with silky white sheets dominates the room from the centre, most of the old hardwood flooring covered by a burgundy rug with a floral pattern, two chests of drawers lining the opposite wall as well as a desk covered in what seems to be his correspondence.

“You’re safe here, my flower,” he says as he sets you down on the bed. “I promise.”

You sit, watch him as he kneels down beside you. His face is nothing but kind, so full of concern and affection, but you can’t help but feel out of place. Knowing what he is now, while it doesn’t change the core of your feelings, still circles in your mind and you have to fight your disbelief.

“You still hesitate?” he asks.

“Are you reading my mind?”

“No, fiore, I do no such thing.” He takes your hand, covering it with his broad ones. “I would not abuse your trust, even if I could. And we have trust, no?”

“I feel like I can trust you,” you admit, tears of overwhelm pricking your eyes. “But I don’t really know anything about you. I don’t even know your name.”

“Primo.”

You exhale and let the word roll off your tongue. “Primo.”

He smiles at the sound of it, a soft, recognising smile, as if he hasn’t been called by that name in a long time. “All I ask is that you let me look after you right now, sì? I will explain and we can talk in depth later, amore.”

“Amore?”

His brow softens, giving his smile a sad quality. “My affections for you have not changed. Though I do fear that yours might have.”

You shake your head at him but before you can say anything profound, two of the black hooded ghouls enter the room. Another one joins right after, rolling a big copper bathtub inside, and you don’t even question their magic when they lift their arms and the tub fills with water. One of the other ghouls lifts his hands as well and suddenly the water starts to steam. The third ghoul places a piece of soap and a washcloth on a nearby stool, then hangs a soft-looking cotton bathrobe over the edge before they all leave without uttering a single word.

Primo helps you out of your shirt and you gasp when you see the blood covering your forearm. The bleeding has stopped but the scrape is still burning, the pain a distant throb. When he sees it, his gaze hardens but he just leads you to stand without any commentary, helping you undress, radiating tension and concern.

“It is okay that I am here?” he asks when he sees you unbutton your pants.

You nod in reply. After everything that happened you can’t say that you feel very embarrassed being naked in front of him and you feel safer in his presence, safer when he helps you.

The water is scalding and you have to take a moment to get used to it before you can fully let the heat ease the tension you hadn’t even noticed before. Primo pulls up a chair, sitting right by your head, and picks up the cloth. You watch his brow furrow in concentration when he cleans your cuts and scrapes and his eyes meet yours a few times throughout, gazing at you with barely hidden hope. You want to tell him that your feelings are the same, if not stronger, but you can’t find it in you to disturb the silence with anything other than the occasional hiss when he touches a painful spot. It feels too fresh still, too many uncertainties plaguing your mind.

Once you’re clean and the water has cooled significantly, Primo helps you out and immediately wraps the soft cotton robe around you. As you sit back down on the bed, he walks over to his desk and fetches a small brown leather bag. Inside, you find multiple small vials in different colours and an antiseptic that looks just like any modern ones. He uses a cotton pad to clean out your wound before he grabs one of the small bottles, holding it out for you to see.

“Let me apply this to your cut,” he says. “It’s a tonic, it will help you heal.”

You roll up your sleeve to grant him access. “So, are you a healer of some sort?”

“Well, I am more of a pharmacist.” He chuckles and lets a small amount of the white liquid drop onto your arm. “Not a doctor.”

“It feels good,” you admit, the cool tincture sticks to your wound, easing the pain.

Primo smiles and wraps a bandage around your arm, tight but not too tight, like he’s done it a hundred times before. You can’t help but stare at him, his eyes and his whole face so beautiful and mesmerising, barely hiding his emotions in the depths of his features. When he catches your gaze, he tugs his hair behind his ear like he’s flustered and you spot a small cut above his left brow.

“He got you as well,” you say, grabbing a new cotton pad and reaching out for his face.

“It’s nothing, it will be gone within the hour,” he replies but he still lets you clean the scratch with careful dabs. “I suppose that I am not as powerful as I need to be to truly protect you.”

“What do you mean? You seemed very powerful to me earlier.”

“I am not ugh… how do you say? In my best years.”

You furrow your brow. “I always thought vampires stayed young forever.”

“Well, you see, I was turned well into my old age. I am not as strong and agile as someone who is born with it or turned earlier in their life,” he explains. “Usually, vampires do not like old blood, they prefer the young and healthy. But mine was… very hungry and very cruel.”

You lean over and press a kiss to his shoulder. “Is it painful to talk about this?”

“No, fiore mio, this was many centuries ago.” He regards you with caution, letting his eyes roam your body for a moment. “Do you feel better?”

“I do.” You reach out for his hand again, fiddling with his long, spindly fingers. “So are we… I mean, do you want me to stay here?”

“Yes, I do.”

“But we won’t…”

“No, I will not touch you intimately again before we speak,” he says, squeezing your fingers. “But perhaps you need some rest before we do. You can sleep in my bed, amore. The sheets are fresh.”

The exhaustion is too strong to fight for much longer, he’s right in that, and you crawl under the sheets, careful not to strain your arm. The silky material feels cool and soft against your skin but you keep the robe on for some warmth. Primo sits by your side, watching you with the fascination of a scientist observing the bacteria in his petri dish. You wonder when he last spent time with a human like this, if he was ever intimate with a human before, but that is a question for another time.

Instead you smile at him. “Do you want to join me? Or do vampires not rest?”

“Are you sure you want me to?”

“I would really like you to hold me,” you admit.

He visibly fights off a happy smile as he rounds the bed, shedding his clothes until he’s only in his pants and his white frilly shirt. Hesitating at the edge of the bed he pulls off the shirt as well and you can’t help but stare as he reveals his pale chest to you, speckled with light grey hair that runs all the way down to his waistband. He’s slender, bony around his ribs but with muscular shoulders and a soft belly, his slightly saggy skin the only real sign of his body’s physical age. You wonder how long he has now looked exactly like that. Centuries he’d said but that is a surreal thought you don’t quite grasp.

When he finally joins you in bed, you sink into his embrace, feeling his cool skin against your cheek as you rest your head on his chest. It’s odd, the quiet, the lack of a heartbeat, but with his fingers running along your spine, his nails scratching softly against your skin, you’re lulled to sleep in no time.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

You wake up in cold sweat – and alone. The bed is empty but you immediately spot Primo with a glance through the wide arched windows. He’s right outside the now open double doors you saw earlier, wearing a heavy, dark red robe, his blond hair softly swaying in the wind. You rise from the silken sheets and grab his wide shirt that lies as a puddle on the floor. The frills cover your hands when you slip it on and it’s long enough to cover you, his smell still clinging to the fabric and tickling your nose as you breathe in the fresh night air.

The doors don’t lead to a balcony like you initially assumed but to a small garden, surrounded by the castle walls and illuminated by the full moon. You have no idea how long you slept but it seems to be the middle of the night. You don’t take the time to fully admire the garden, instead wrapping your arms around Primo and burying your face in his back.

“Oh fiore, did I wake you?” he asks, covering your hands with his.

“No,” you whisper. “I’m not tired anymore.”

“Come here.”

He wraps you up in his robe, pressing you tightly to his chest. You feel his lips ghosting over your forehead, then he presses them more firmly to your temple. His skin feels smooth and you turn your head enough to take in the surrounding area.

“What were you admiring?” you ask, your eyes caught on a plant that’s blooming despite the lack of daylight, long white blossoms opening themselves towards the night sky.

“Datura,” Primo explains. “They call it the devil’s trumpet. Highly poisonous. Many night-blooming plants are but of course they offer more to see to me than others.”

You smile. “The rose you gave me, was it from your garden as well?”

“Yes.”

He hugs you tighter and the pressure on your arm brings back enough pain to make you hiss in surprise. Primo tenses and you look up, only to find him staring at you with his brows drawn together. His anger isn’t directed at you and yet you feel a hint of anxiety. You know you won’t like the conversation you’re stearing towards.

“It’s my fault,” he says. “You’re hurt because of me.”

You raise a hand to his cheek. “No, no, it’s not. He attacked me.”

“But he attacked you because of my carelessness,” Primo says, leaning into your touch but avoiding your gaze. “I marked you. When we first kissed, I bit your lip and marked you.”

“Marked me for what?”

He swallows as his eyes finally meet yours. “We had an agreement.”

“An agreement? To… to kill people?”

“No, I don’t do the killing,” Primo says. “It is not my style. I am too old for carnage, amore. Or at least I thought I was.”

You furrow your brow, his explanation not helping you understand what he means. “So what is the whole deal with Max?”

“He was a werewolf,” Primo explains. “We ugh… we had this pact, I want to say. My victims, I don’t kill them, I just drink what I need and he… he gets the rest. He can smell me on them, so he knows who to target once he turns and loses most of his rational thinking. When I bit your lip, I must have marked you without my intent.”

You feel your blood rushing through your body now. “So what, he kills your victims?”

“He eats them, sì.”

“So the guys who…” You swallow hard, balling your hands to fists against his chest. “The guys who harassed me who never came back, the cleaner who disappeared… did you…”

“I never said I am innocent. But I did not kill them.” He takes your hand, softly uncurls your fingers before he looks at you with so much sadness that your heart shatters in your chest. “I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me anymore now. I know it is a lifestyle you have to condemn but it is the only way I survive.”

You feel tears welling in your eyes, uncertain whether you can accept the man you love harming other people like this. Of course it keeps him alive but handing them over to be killed is not very different from actually killing them. There has to be a different way, a way without murder.

“If we… if we were together… could you just drink from me instead?” you ask. “No more innocent people?”

“Have you ever donated blood, fiore? They will not let you give it too often, half a litre every three months.” He pauses, smiling sadly as he squeezes your hand. “That is to say… you do not produce blood fast enough. I would either starve or kill you.”

“But you could drink from me? And perhaps a bit from someone else and no one has to die?”

He nods. “I can but you might not like it, you might regret agreeing to this.”

“Try me.”

Primo furrows his brow. “Try you?”

“Show me what it’s like. How does it work? You bite my neck and suck?”

He shakes his head. “I will puncture your vein and drink until the bleeding stops.”

“You won’t suck?”

“Not when it’s you. I will just drink what spills out,” he explains. “Sucking would make the wound very bad, it would hurt you more, even though it is faster and gives me more of you.”

“It’s… it’s okay if you want to suck,” you say. “I want you to do it to satisfy you.”

“No, not this time, but thank you, amore.” A deep sigh as he relents to your request. “Va bene, but if we try this we have to go inside.”

Primo calls one of the ghouls as you settle back in bed and tells him to get you some fruit and a sweet drink for later. You’re buzzing, partly with anxiety but partly with sheer excitement. You remember the intense pleasure you felt when he bit your lip and wonder if this is going to be a similar experience.

As soon as the ghoul is gone again, Primo settles in bed behind you, ridding you of your robe and pulling you between his legs as soon as you are naked. You hold onto his thighs, the fabric of his black slacks rough against your palms.

“I will stop if you tell me to,” he whispers against your ear. “We go easy, I will not drink too much, yes?”

“Yes.”

You sink against his solid chest, unclenching your muscles. His fingers run along your neck, brushing any stray hairs aside and gently positioning your head how he wants it. A moment passes before you feel his lips trailing over the exposed skin, pressing soft kisses to the tendon at your neck that make you shiver.

“Relax,” he mumbles. “No sudden movements, amore.”

You try your best to follow. Primo positions his mouth so very carefully that you almost anticipate the bite. His fangs poke at your skin and he gently increases the pressure until you can feel them puncturing it. The pain is not unexpected but you’re still surprised by the impact, moaning softly. His hands grab at your thighs, a deep groan leaving his throat that vibrates against your skin. You can hardly feel the blood leaving you with how tightly his mouth is attached to the violated skin. At some point, you can feel his tongue swiping along the curve and his grip tightens, long fingers digging into your flesh.

The more he drinks, the more he’s stirring behind you and then he’s suddenly rutting against you in his chase for more friction. You can feel his hard cock against your lower back and you can’t help but grind back against him. Primo stops to moan, his hands roaming your form all the way over your hips and up to your chest. His cold fingers feel heavenly against your heated skin.

“I’m sorry,” he says breathlessly. “Drinking from your… from your love can be a very intense, intimate feeling.”

You hum in agreement and his tongue laps at your neck again, leaving a wet trail all the way from your shoulder to your ear before he attaches his mouth to the wound. He doesn’t drink for long before his hips buck again. Subconsciously, you follow the movements, gripping his thighs so tightly that your fingertips dig into the firm muscles.

“Can you feel it, fiore? Can you feel how our bodies long to become one?”

You only whimper in reply, your head lolling back onto his shoulder as a sick sort of pleasure tears through you, a throbbing need settling in your core.

“I want you,” he says, his voice resonating deep inside of you. “I want you, my love. Will you let me have you?”

“Please,” you whine.

His mouth leaves you altogether. The bleedings has mostly stopped, his spit and your blood cooling against your skin in the still brisk air. Primo slips out from beneath you, urgently pushing the red robe off his shoulders and his pants from his legs before his weight pushes you into the mattress. He settles between your legs, his now bare cock digging into your thigh, and you moan when his bare skin touches yours. He feels warmer now, not hot but definitely more… alive.

“You are the most wonderful thing I have ever seen,” he says and it’s beautifully grotesque, those pretty words leaving such a feral creature after he just drank from you, his face still showing the evidence of his attack.

Your heart clenches with unspoken love for him.

You lift your hand to his jaw, dark red blood dripping from his open mouth and onto your chest. He’s breathing heavily with his fangs bared to you, staring at you in wonder as you cradle his cheek and run your thumb over his skin. His eyes close and there is something so heartbreakingly intimate about the way he’s melting into your touch. A predator, a being who spent centuries on this earth, who hurt and fought and killed for you softens at the mere touch of your fingertips. You’ve never wanted anyone as much as you want him in this moment and you already know that you won’t hesitate to do whatever it takes to be his.

Primo shifts sideways, moving one of his hands between your legs. He probes at your entrance, slowly stretching you open until he can slide two of his fingers into you, careful not to hurt you with his sharp nails. You can see how hard he’s trying to hold back, every muscle in his face clenching. But he holds your gaze, watching your lips part as he curls his fingers, fucking into you until you’re whimpering with every thrust.

“Primo,” you whine.

He nods like understands your need for more but he doesn’t stop yet. Running your hand over his jaw you collect all the blood and spit around his mouth that you can get and reach down to find his hard cock. He gasps at the contact, more blood spilling from his lips and pooling between your bodies. You pump a few times, spreading the wetness, and he unravels, hips bucking into your hand as he moans.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please don’t hold back.”

His pupils dilate and he removes his fingers from you, gathering more blood from your chest to spread on his cock. He aligns himself and slowly pushes in, watching as he his length disappears inside of you. The stretch is incredible. You keen when he bottoms out, one of your hands fisting his hair and then he finally kisses you. The metallic taste of your blood startles you at first but then you can’t help but want more of it, pushing your tongue into his mouth. Primo won’t indulge you for long before you can feel him losing his restraint, battling for dominance over your mouth. He sucks at your tongue as his hips start to move, slow thrusts at first but he quickly loses patience.

His mouth slips from yours as he speeds up, leaving a mess of drool, face paint and cooling blood behind. He drives himself into you without holding back, just like you wanted, his gasps and moans filling your ears over the sound of his wet skin meeting yours. You tug at his hair, wrapping your legs tightly around him to get even closer, spreading the blood all over your bodies. Primo nibbles at your jaw, not breaking the skin but running his teeth along the edge before they settle at your neck again.

“I want more,” he growls against your skin. “I need more, amore mio, please. J-just a little bit.”

In reply, you angle your head to expose your neck to him. He immediately latches on, sucking the wound back open. He was right, it hurts more this time and perhaps it’s a figment of your imagination but you can feel your blood rushing out of you in a way that is dizzying, intoxicating. Everything feels more intense now, the deep thrusts, his sharp nails digging into your flesh, the throaty moans in your ear as he drinks.

You clench around him and the orgasm hits you without warning. You cry out in pleasure, raking your nails down his back as you ride out your high with a few rolls of your hips. Primo falters, his hips stuttering into yours as he approaches his own release. His mouth leaves your neck with a pop and he pants desperately. You’re overcome with emotion when you hear his needy sounds, when you feel him twitching inside of you, so close to letting go. The last few drops of your warm blood run down your clavicle as the wound slowly closes, stopping right at your heart.

“I love you,” you breathe. “I love you, Primo.”

He shudders, his cock jumping wildly inside of you before he freezes, spilling his seed with a deep, drawn-out groan. You hold him through his high, stroking his hair and back. He gives two more slow pumps, drawing out your pleasure until he collapses on top of you.

“I love you, fiore,” he mumbles, then he props himself up on his elbow, staring into your eyes. “I love you.”

A surprisingly gentle kiss. A hand caressing your wet cheeks. Primo rolls you onto your sides and you can feel your mingled cum, blood and sweat glueing your bodies together. It’s messy and sticky but you’re not ready to let him go either. His gaze falls to your bruised neck and he frowns, grazing the skin with his thumb until you groan in pain.

Primo shakes his head in displeasure. “I am sorry, amore. I made it worse.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I wanted it, my love, and I have no regrets.”

“Are you sure?” he asks. “You want all this, fiore? You want this old man?”

You take a deep, shaky breath, your lungs burning and your head still dizzy, but there is not a hint of doubt in your mind. “I want you and all that comes with it. I’m not scared, Primo.”

“No, you’re quite fearless,” he agrees with a smile. “We will have to take care of your wound, clean up this mess, sì? But maybe we can wait a few more minutes, I am quite exhausted.”

You hum in agreement and pull him closer. He doesn’t object as his head comes to rest on your chest this time. The blood loss seems to register now because your vision starts to swim, and so you close your eyes for a moment to let the wave of dizziness pass. Your thoughts are jumbled, so many questions, so many things to consider.

“Primo?” you ask after a moment.

He hums. “Yes, fiore mio?”

“Will you ever turn me?”

A scoff, bitter and sharp, like it’s the absurdest thing he’s ever heard. “No, amore, I will do no such thing.”

“But if I wanted you to?”

“No.”

You open your eyes to find him looking up at you and lift a hand to smooth out the stern crease on his brow. “We’ll have to talk about this.”

“No,” he says again, then buries his face in your neck with a deep hum, wrapping his arms around you tightly. A moment passes. Then another one and he seems to mull the thought over in his head. He sighs in defeat. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“We will talk about it but not soon. We have many years to come before this ever matters.”

You’re satisfied with that for now, giggle when he presses a plethora of bloody kisses all over your neck and chest, and you can feel his smirk against your skin. You know he’s trying to distract you and it works. Your feelings for him flutter to live inside of you like a colony of bats and you breathe a kiss to his soft blond hair. As he falls asleep, he slowly exhales with his lips against your windpipe. You close your eyes and savour the feeling of his body wrapped around yours, thinking that if you’re lucky, this is a moment you’re going to remember for all of eternity.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed vampire primo – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

Read now Part 2: Friday Nights at the Vinothek | Vampire!Secondo x gn!reader

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