hellokittyyyysblog - Tumblr blog

[hellokittyyyysblog]

Yanno we are the same age…sooo marry me?

well, that escalated quickly haha,

sure!!!! ♡

[hellokittyyyysblog]

𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓷/ part 5

Pairing: vampire!𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚊 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

- - -- -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- -- - -

The room seemed to pulse with the low, rhythmic thrum of bass, the sound reverberating through the floors and walls like the heartbeat of some slumbering beast. You forced yourself to breathe, but the air felt thick, almost tangible as if it had been saturated with something dark and ancient.

Your eyes darted around the room, trying to make sense of the scene before you, but the low lighting and the hazy fog swirling near the ground only added to the sense of disorientation. Shapes moved in the shadows—figures draped in luxurious fabrics, their faces partly obscured by the dim light and the heavy scent of incense that filled the room. It was intoxicating, almost overpowering, and for a moment, you wondered if it was clouding your judgment, dulling your senses to the danger you had just walked into.

At first, you couldn't quite comprehend what you were seeing. The way they lounged on the plush, velvet couches, their movements languid and almost sensual, might have been mistaken for simple indulgence. But as you focused, the horror of it all became unmistakable: a man, his skin impossibly pale, was bent over a woman’s wrist, his lips pressed to her flesh. But it wasn’t a kiss, it was far from it—his mouth was stained with blood, and the woman’s head lolled to the side, her eyes half-closed, as if in some drugged stupor.

A wave of nausea rolled through you as the reality sank in. They were feeding. Not from goblets of wine or some theatrical prop, but from the veins of living, breathing people. The sight of it made your knees weak, your hands trembling at your sides. You had known this would be dangerous, had braced yourself for the possibility of violence, but nothing could have prepared you for the raw, predatory hunger that filled this room.

Your gaze shifted, drawn deeper into the shadows. On the dance floor, people moved with an eerie synchronicity, their bodies swaying in time to the relentless beat. But there was no joy in their movements, no life—only a dull, mechanical rhythm as if they were being controlled by some unseen force. Their eyes were glazed, their faces devoid of expression, and it struck you with chilling clarity: they weren’t dancing because they wanted to, they were dancing because they had to. Because they were compelled. This was your first thought.

Then, in the midst of it all, your eyes caught on a figure slumped in a corner, partially obscured by the thick, dark, velvet curtains that hung from the walls. A girl, her skin pale and her limbs limp, her head resting at an unnatural angle. Her hair fell over her face in a tangled mess, but you could see enough to know something was terribly wrong. She looked lifeless, like a discarded doll, her eyes closed, as a man—tall, thin, and monstrous in his predatory stillness—leaned over her, his mouth fixed to her neck.

The sight of it was a punch to the gut, the breath leaving your lungs in a sharp exhale. This wasn’t just feeding. This was a violation, a brutal theft of life, and the girl—God, she looked dead already. Or if not dead, then so close to it that the difference was negligible. Your mind rebelled against the image, trying to reject what your eyes were seeing, but there was no escaping it. This was real. This was happening.

You forced yourself to move, taking a hesitant step forward, you wanted to help the girl, to do something but the sight of a young boy on the couch—so pale, so still—brought you to a stop once more. The man feeding from him lifted his head, his lips red and wet, his eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. He turned slightly, and in that brief moment, his gaze swept over the room—and landed on you.

Your blood turned to ice.

In a blink, he was standing right in front of you.

"Lost, are we?" His voice was smooth, almost soothing, but there was an edge to it that made your skin crawl. He was close, too close, and you could feel the air around him, thick with a metallic scent that turned your stomach.

You tried to back away, but your feet were rooted to the spot, every muscle in your body locked in place. You couldn’t even blink, as if his gaze alone had paralyzed you.

"I—I'm not supposed to be here" you stammered, your voice barely a whisper, betraying the fear gripping your entire being.

"On the contrary" he purred, a twisted smile curling at the corners of his lips. "You’re exactly where you’re meant to be. What’s your name?"

Your mind raced, searching for an answer, something to say that wouldn’t betray your sheer terror, but nothing came. The words caught in your throat, and all you could do was stand there, wide-eyed, as he leaned in closer, his presence suffocating.

"Don’t be afraid" he continued, his tone almost mocking. "We don’t bite... too hard."

The humor in his voice was a stark contrast to the horror unfolding around you, making the situation all the more surreal. He tilted his head, studying you with a curiosity that made your skin crawl.

"What brings you here, hmm?”

You swallowed hard, trying to gather what little courage you had left. "I was just looking for someone... a friend" you managed to say, hoping the lie wasn’t as transparent as it felt.

"A friend?" He raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his gaze. "Well, I assure you, you’ve found much more than that."

He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm, cold and almost delicate. You flinched, the contact sending a jolt of panic through you.

"Stay a while…I think you'll find my company—our company... intriguing."

Your mind screamed at you to run, to get out, but his presence held you in place, like a predator toying with its prey. You knew you had to play along, at least until you could find a way out.

But as you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you might already be too late.

His cold fingers slid around your wrist, the grip deceptively gentle but unyielding, as if he was inviting you somewhere while simultaneously ensuring you had no choice but to follow. The icy touch of his skin against yours sent a shiver down your spine, and your pulse quickened beneath his grasp.

"Come" he murmured, his voice a low, velvety whisper that carried an undercurrent of something darker. "Let me offer you a drink. It’s the least I can do for a new friend."

You tried to pull back, your instincts screaming for you to retreat, but he held firm, his eyes never leaving yours. There was something hypnotic about the way he looked at you—an invitation and a warning all at once.

The woman who had dragged you into this nightmare blinked at you, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Have fun" she purred, the words dripping with a casual indifference; she seemed to disappear into the shadows as quickly as she had appeared, leaving you alone with him.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry as sandpaper. "I... I really shouldn’t" you stammered, desperately trying to find a way out of this without provoking him. "I have somewhere I need to be."

"Do you?" His voice was silky, a thread of amusement woven through it. He began to guide you deeper into the room, and you couldn’t help but notice the way the crowd seemed to part for him, people stepping aside as if he was some sort of dark royalty. "I think you’ll find that wherever you were going can wait. After all, it’s not every day you get to experience something truly…unique."

The dim, pulsating lights reflected off his pale skin, casting eerie shadows that danced across his features: he appeared to be in his early twenties, with a youthful, almost boyish charm that belied the darkness in his red eyes. His smooth skin and lean frame suggested the vitality of youth, but you knew better than to trust your eyes.

As he led you further into the dimly lit interior, you passed by more of the strange and unsettling sights you had glimpsed earlier. The music thrummed low and steady in the background, almost in sync with the pounding of your heart. Vampires—there was no doubt in your mind now—lounged on velvet couches, their lips stained with crimson, their eyes half-lidded in predatory pleasure as they drank from the willing or perhaps not-so-willing patrons.

"Here we are" he announced softly as you reached the bar, where a small, ornate table awaited. He released your wrist, but the chill of his touch lingered as you reluctantly took a seat. "What will you have? Something red, perhaps?"

"Oh, I’m not thirsty" you managed, your voice trembling with the effort to keep your composure.

He smiled, a slow, almost predatory curve of his lips. "Nonsense. Everyone’s thirsty for something." He gestured to a waiter who appeared out of nowhere, pale and silent, with eyes that seemed to glow faintly in the low light. "Two glasses" he ordered, his gaze still locked on yours. "Something of your finest"

The waiter nodded and disappeared as quickly as he had come, leaving you alone with the man once more. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words and a tension that set your nerves on edge.

"Why so tense?" he asked, his tone deceptively gentle as he reached across the table, his fingers brushing lightly over the back of your hand. "You’re safe here. No one will harm you… unless you want them to."

The insinuation in his words made your stomach churn. You forced yourself to meet his gaze, trying to appear braver than you felt. "I’m not sure what you want from me" you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"What do I want?" He tilted his head, as if considering the question. "Perhaps I simply enjoy the company of someone… new. You intrigue me, and I find that refreshing."

The waiter returned, placing two glasses of deep red liquid in front of you. You stared at the glass, the rich color reminding you too much of blood, but you didn’t dare refuse.

"Drink" he urged, lifting his own glass to his lips. "It’s quite delightful, I assure you."

Your hand trembled as you picked up the glass, the cold surface pressing against your skin. You could feel his eyes on you, watching intently, and you knew there was no backing out now. Your mind raced, searching for any way to turn the situation to your advantage, but the fog of fear clouded your thoughts.

You hesitated, every instinct in your body screaming at you to stop, but his gaze pinned you in place, daring you to take that first sip.

As you lifted the glass to your lips, You lifted the glass slowly, your hand trembling slightly as you brought it closer to your mouth; but before the rim could touch your lips, a sudden force wrenched the glass from your hand.

Your head snapped up, and there she was—Natasha, standing at the edge of the shadowed corner, her eyes locked on the man across from you.

You blinked in shock, "Natasha" you breathed, your voice filled with a mix of relief and fear.

What was she doing here? How had she found you? But those questions would have to wait; the look on her face told you that this was not the time to ask.

"Now, is this any way to treat a guest?"

The man across from you raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback but recovering quickly. He leaned back in his chair, a slow, lazy smile spreading across his lips as he regarded Natasha. "Well, well, what an unexpected surprise" he drawled, his voice laced with a mocking undertone. "I wasn’t aware this one belonged to you."

Natasha's eyes flicked to yours for the briefest of moments, a silent reassurance in their depths before she returned her gaze to him. "She doesn't belong to anyone" she corrected him, her tone icy and authoritative.

He chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. "Is that so? And what brings you here, Natasha? I thought you'd left this sort of place behind."

She ignored his question, stepping closer to you, her presence like a shield against the suffocating darkness that had been closing in. "Come on" she said softly, her hand reaching out to you. "We’re leaving."

You didn’t hesitate, nearly leaping out of your chair to grasp her hand, your heart pounding with a mixture of relief and lingering fear.

The man’s eyes narrowed slightly, his amusement giving way to something sharper. "Leaving already? But the night’s just begun. Surely your… friend would like to stay for a little while longer."

Natasha’s smile was cold, devoid of any warmth. "No" she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "She wouldn’t."

He studied her for a long moment, the tension between them thickening the air around you. You could feel the unspoken power struggle, the way he assessed her as a threat. But Natasha didn’t flinch, didn’t waver.

Finally, he sighed, a sound tinged with reluctance. "Very well" he said, waving a hand dismissively.

“It’s been a pleasure, my dear" he said, turning his attention back to you with a leer that made your skin crawl. "I would’ve kept you company for a while longer, but it’s better not to get mixed up with this one." He nodded toward Natasha, his tone edged with grudging respect and sarcasm.

Natasha’s expression didn’t change as she tightened her grip on your hand and turned, leading you away from the table. You could feel the barely restrained anger radiating off her, the cold fury that promised retribution if you so much as hesitated.

You could feel the stares of the other people burning into your back, whispers following in your wake, but no one dared to stop her.

Once you were outside, the heavy door of the club slammed shut behind you, cutting off the muffled music and murmurs from within. Natasha finally released your wrist as if she couldn’t bear to touch you any longer, but the anger in her eyes had not subsided.

The tension between you was thick enough to choke on. But you couldn’t let her stay angry without explaining yourself.

“Natasha, I—“ you began, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to find the right words.

“What in God’s name were you thinking?” she hissed “Do you have a death wish, or are you simply too reckless to understand the danger you were in?”

“I swear, I thought it was just a bar—a seedy, exclusive bar, sure—but not a… not a nest of vampires.”

Natasha didn’t respond immediately. She kept walking, her steps swift and purposeful as she guided you through the dark streets.

“I wasn’t planning to stick around” you continued, your voice barely more than a whisper, trying to keep up with her pace. “I just needed to talk to the owner, to find out why my company was making donations to this place. I thought… I thought if I could get in, if I could just speak with him—”

“You thought you could waltz in and have a nice chat with the devil” Natasha cut in, her tone dripping with disdain. “Do you realize how absurd that sounds?”

“I didn’t know!” you repeated, your frustration bubbling up. “How could I have known? It was just a lead, something I had to follow up on. I didn’t expect—”

“No, you didn’t expect” she said coldly, finally stopping and turning to face you. Her eyes were hard, unyielding, and any warmth they’d ever held was buried deep beneath layers of ice.

“You didn’t think, you never do; and now you’re lucky to be standing here instead of lying in a pool of your own blood.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat. The truth was, you hadn’t known—hadn’t had any idea of what you were walking into. And now, faced with Natasha’s anger, the full weight of your mistake pressed down on you, suffocating in its intensity.

Her words stung, but you couldn’t back down. “I’m trying to help” you insisted, though your voice wavered under her gaze. “I thought I could do this on my own.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, her expression a mix of anger and something you couldn’t quite place. “You thought wrong. You think you can play in the shadows, dance with demons, and come out unscathed? You are more naive than I imagined.”

“I didn’t know they were vampires” you repeated, your voice rising slightly as your own frustration grew. “I just wanted to talk to the boss, to find out what connection they had. I never planned on getting involved with—”

“You never planned on anything” Natasha cut in sharply. “You acted without thinking, and now you’ve put us both in jeopardy. Do you understand that? Your bravery could have cost you your life.”

You flinched at her words, the weight of them pressing down on you. She was right, of course. You hadn’t known what you were walking into, hadn’t expected to find a den of predators waiting for you. But you also couldn’t ignore the need that had driven you there, the sense that you were close to something important.

“I’m sorry” you said quietly, feeling the full impact of your actions now that you were out of danger. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Sorry won’t save you next time,” Natasha said, her tone unrelenting. “You are fortunate that I was there to pull you out. If you keep putting yourself in danger like this, you won’t be so lucky.”

There was a moment of heavy silence, broken only by your shallow breathing. Finally, Natasha took a step back, the tension in her posture easing just slightly.

“Next time, you will think before you act” she said, her tone still cold, but the edge of anger had dulled. "If you ever put yourself in danger like this again…I will be forced to remove your memories."

You blinked, her words taking a moment to sink in. "What?" you asked, turning to her, hoping you had misheard.

Natasha's gaze remained fixed on the road, her expression unreadable. "You heard me. If you continue to meddle in things you don't understand, I won't have a choice. You're already in deeper than you should be, and if I have to, 'll make sure you forget everything-all of it."

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. She wasn't bluffing; there was no trace of humor or hyperbole in her voice. The weight of her words, the severity of what she was threatening, settled in your chest like a stone.

You opened your mouth to protest, to argue that she couldn't possibly mean it, but the look on her face when she finally turned to you silenced any retort you might have had.

"I'm not doing this to be cruel" she continued, her voice softer but no less firm. "This world... it's not for you. And if you keep pushing, if you keep putting yourself in situations like tonight, you'll leave me with no other option. I would rather erase your memories than let you become a casualty of a war you're not made for."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and started walking again, leaving you to follow in her wake.

Natasha stopped abruptly, and you nearly bumped into her as she halted in front of a sleek black Corvette. The car gleamed under the dim streetlights; without a word, she pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the doors with a press of a button. The soft click of the locks was the only sound between you as she opened the driver's side door.

"Get in" she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated for just a second, taking in the car's imposing presence, before obeying. Sliding into the passenger seat, you felt the cold leather beneath you and glanced around the interior, which was as meticulously maintained as the woman beside you. Natasha climbed in after you, and the door shut with a solid thud. She turned the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life, purring with restrained power.

"Seatbelt" she reminded you curtly, not looking at you as she adjusted the rearview mirror.

You fumbled for the seatbelt and clicked it into place, the reality of the situation settling in as the Corvette smoothly pulled away from the curb. The streetlights blurred into streaks of gold as she navigated the car through the city with an ease that was both impressive and intimidating.

You could feel the tension simmering, but Natasha kept her focus on the road, her grip on the steering wheel tight. The silence between you was thick, but you knew the conversation from earlier wasn’t over.

“How did you even get into that place? How did you know where to go?” she said, finally breaking the silence, her voice cutting through the stillness with a sharp edge.

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “I found some documents. Davis’s files. They led me to it.”

Natasha shot you a quick glance, her eyes narrowing. “Documents? What documents?”

“After Davis died, I went through his case files. I found some financial records buried in there—odd donations and money transfers to this club. It didn’t make sense, so I dug a little deeper...and found the tickets in Bowman’s money clip”

Natasha’s expression darkened. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Well, I don’t exactly have your number” you said, attempting a small smile, hoping to break the tension.

Natasha’s eyes flicked toward you, her gaze piercing. She didn’t seem amused. “This isn’t a joke” she said coldly. “You’re dealing with things you don’t understand. You had no business going in there alone.”

“I know” you admitted, your voice softer. “But I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. I needed to know what was going on, what Davis had uncovered. And besides, I didn’t know there would be—” you paused, unsure how to even finish the sentence “—vampires. I thought it was just a bar with some shady dealings.”

Natasha exhaled slowly, clearly trying to rein in her frustration. “You could’ve been killed, or worse. Do you realize that? This isn’t a game.”

You nodded, the gravity of her words settling in. “I do now” you said quietly. “But what was I supposed to do? I can’t just ignore it.”

Natasha’s fingers drummed against the steering wheel as she processed your words. “You should’ve trusted me enough to bring this to me”

“But how was I supposed to do that?” you asked, frustration creeping into your tone. “You swoop in and out of my life without a trace. I didn’t even know how to contact you if I wanted to.”

Natasha was silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “You’re right” she admitted, almost grudgingly. “But that’s going to change. From now on, if you find something, anything, you come to me first. No more playing detective on your own.”

You glanced over at her, sensing the shift in her demeanor. She wasn’t just angry; there was something else—something almost protective in the way she spoke, as if she felt responsible for what had happened tonight.

“Okay” you agreed, sensing there was no point in arguing.

You weren’t sure where this left you—whether Natasha would actually include you in whatever came next, or if she’d simply try to keep you out of harm’s way.

“Where are we going now?” you asked after a long pause, trying to shift the conversation away from the tension.

“I'm bringing you home” Natasha stated, her voice carrying a finality that made you sigh in reluctant agreement.

“great” you replied quietly, sinking back into the leather seat.

Natasha remained silent beside you, her eyes fixed on the road, though she occasionally glanced your way, her expression unreadable.

The rhythm of the car, the warmth of the seat, and the overwhelming events of the night soon became too much to fight against. Your eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment, until finally, sleep took over.

When you next opened your eyes, you were greeted by the soft glow of streetlights filtering through the window. Natasha’s hand was on your shoulder, her touch surprisingly gentle for someone usually so guarded.

“Hey” she said quietly, her voice a low murmur in the quiet car. “We’re here.”

You blinked, disoriented, and slowly sat up, realizing you had fallen asleep. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” you trailed off, rubbing your eyes as you tried to shake off the remnants of sleep.

“It’s fine” Natasha replied, her voice softer than usual. For a brief moment, her gaze lingered on you, and though her face remained stoic, there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something that almost looked like concern.

The lines of tension in her face softened, and she seemed to pause, as if caught off guard by your vulnerability.

“Come on” she said, her voice a little quieter, as if the sight of you had tempered some of her earlier anger. “Let’s get you inside.”

Nodding, you unbuckled your seatbelt and pushed the door open, stepping out into the cool night air. Natasha was already at your side, her presence steady and reassuring, even if she’d never admit it out loud. She walked you to the door, her hand hovering just behind your back as if she were ready to catch you should you stumble.

“Thanks” you mumbled, your voice heavy with the remnants of sleep as you reached for your keys.

Natasha didn’t reply, just watched as you fumbled with the lock. When you finally managed to get the door open, you turned back to her, expecting her to say something—maybe a final warning or a reminder of how reckless you’d been. But she just stood there, her eyes tracing your features with an intensity that made your breath catch.

But then, after a moment of tense silence, she spoke.

“Could you show me those documents?”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “The documents?” you echoed, trying to piece together what she was asking. The fog of sleep was still clouding your thoughts, but then it clicked—the files you had found that led you to the club in the first place.

“Yes” Natasha confirmed, her tone firm.

You were still trying to process everything when a voice from the living room called out.

"Look who finally decided to show up!"

You turned to see Kate lounging on the couch, her feet propped up on the coffee table, a mischievous grin on her face. She was twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, clearly amused.

You blinked, caught off guard. "Kate? what are you doing here?"

Natasha, who had been standing just behind you, raised an eyebrow at the unexpected presence.

"Well, I wanted to surprise you, I’m back!!”

Kate’s grin widened as she eyed Natasha up and down, her expression turning playful. “So, this is why you weren’t answering my calls? You’ve been out with a hottie all night?”

Your face immediately flushed with embarrassment. “Kate, it’s not like that—” you started, but Kate was already on a roll.

“Oh, come on!” she teased, sitting up and leaning forward. “I was beginning to worry you’d been abducted, but now I see you’ve been… occupied.” She winked exaggeratedly.

Natasha’s stoic expression remained unchanged, but you could’ve sworn you saw the tiniest hint of amusement in her eyes. “I see your friend has quite the imagination” she said dryly, glancing at you.

“Yeah, that’s one way to put it” you muttered, giving Kate a look that screamed ‘please stop talking’.

But Kate wasn’t done. She stood up and sauntered over, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So, are you gonna introduce me? Or do I have to figure out who miss mysterious is all by myself?”

“Kate, this is Natasha,” you said, doing your best to keep your voice steady. “Natasha, this is Kate.”

Kate held out her hand, her grin still firmly in place. “Nice to meet you, Natasha”

Natasha took Kate’s hand, her grip firm but polite.

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your mortification. “Kate, seriously, it’s not what you think. Natasha was just—”

“Just bringing her home” Natasha cut in, her tone a little more serious now. “We had some business to discuss, and it’s late. I’ll be heading out now.”

Kate looked between the two of you, her teasing expression faltering for a moment. “Oh… okay. Well, don’t let me keep you.” She shot you a look that clearly said ‘we’re going to talk about this later’ .

"ll bring the documents to you" you offered, trying to keep your voice steady. "Tomorrow, when l've had a chance to go through them again."

Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment you thought she might argue. But then she nodded, though her gaze remained sharp, as if she were measuring your resolve.

"First thing in the morning, I’ll text you" she said, taking a step closer, her presence suddenly more imposing.

“Remember what we talked about” she said, her voice low but firm.

“I will” you promised, feeling the weight of her words.

“Good”

Natasha stepped toward the door, turning back to give you a brief, lingering look. "Good night" she said softly.

As she opened the door, Kate, still lounging on the couch with a teasing grin, couldn’t resist one last quip. "Good night, Natasha”

Natasha paused, her hand on the doorknob, and a small, smile touched her lips. "Good night, Kate."

With that, she nodded once more to you, her gaze lingering just a moment longer, before slipping out the door; once the door clicked shut, Kate turned to you, her eyes wide with excitement. “Okay, spill. Who is she?”

You sighed, flopping down onto the couch. “It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated, huh?” Kate smirked. “Well, I’m all ears. But seriously, she’s hot. If you don’t go after that, I might.”

You buried your face in a pillow, groaning. “Kate…”

Kate just laughed, flopping down beside you. “Come on, you’ve got to tell me everything. This is way more interesting than anything else I had planned tonight.”

"Kate, it’s not what you think. She’s… just someone helping me with Davis’s cases."

Kate’s grin only widened. "Oh, sure. Helping you with cases” Kate repeated, her tone full of amusement. "You know, I took an early flight to get back here because I thought you might need some company after everything that happened with Davis. But it looks like you’ve already found someone to keep you company."

"You came back early… for me?"

"Of course I did" Kate said, her expression softening for a moment before she switched back to her teasing mode. "But I see I was worried for nothing. I mean, I was expecting to find you all sad and brooding, and instead, I walk in on you and miss mysterious having a moment. Didn’t know you had it in you!"

"Kate!" you exclaimed, feeling your face burn even more. "It’s not like that at all. She’s just helping me with this one case. I didn’t even know you were coming back early."

Kate chuckled, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. "Yeah, well, you’ve been dodging my calls, so I figured I’d better check in on you in person. But I guess I should’ve just stayed out for another night. Maybe then you’d have had the place to yourselves."

You buried your face in your hands, half in embarrassment and half trying to hide your growing smile. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

Kate laughed, her tone affectionate. "Hey, what are friends for if not to give you a hard time? But seriously, I’m glad you’re okay. And if this Natasha is really just helping you, then I guess I’ll back off. For now."

You peeked at her from between your fingers, seeing the warmth in her eyes beneath the teasing. "Thanks, Kate. I mean it."

Kate stood up from the couch, her playful grin softening into a more genuine expression as she walked over to you. She placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head, a gesture so familiar and comforting that it made your heart swell with affection.

"You know what we need?" she said, her voice warm and soothing. "A glass of wine. I think we both deserve it."

"That sounds perfect, actually."

"Good" Kate said, patting your shoulder before heading to the kitchen. "You get comfortable. I’ll take care of the wine."

You watched her go, feeling a rush of gratitude for how she always seemed to know exactly what you needed, even when you didn’t. As she moved around the kitchen, you took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering tension from the night’s events.

You leaned back into the cushions, letting out a contented sigh. There was still so much you didn’t understand, so much that you needed to figure out.

One final move, you thought to yourself. Just one more step forward, and you’d be closer to uncovering the truth.

But for tonight, that could wait.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The morning sun barely broke through the heavy clouds, casting a muted light over the quiet street as you made your way down the cobblestone path. You glanced at your phone again, double-checking the address Natasha had sent you. It led you here, to this almost deserted street lined with quaint houses that looked as if they had been plucked from a different time. And at the end of it, a small, unassuming church.

You paused in front of the church, its old stone walls covered in ivy. The heavy wooden door seemed out of place compared to the sleek modern buildings you were used to seeing, and for a moment, you hesitated. Why would Natasha want to meet here, of all places? You had expected a dimly lit office or a secluded corner of a café—not a church.

With a deep breath, you pushed open the door and stepped inside. The scent of aged wood and faint incense greeted you, along with the soft echo of your footsteps on the stone floor. The interior was dimly lit by a series of stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the worn pews. It was peaceful, almost too peaceful given the turmoil that had been your life lately.

At the far end, near the altar, you spotted Natasha. She was standing by a tall candle, the flickering flame casting shadows across her face. She looked different here, more at ease, as if this place held some sort of significance for her.

"Morning" you called out softly as you approached, trying to keep your voice from echoing too much in the vast space.

Natasha turned to you, a small, almost imperceptible smile on her lips. "Good morning. I see you found the place."

"I did. Are we here to pray for guidance, or is this where you bring all your potential accomplices?"

Natasha chuckled, the sound low and smooth like velvet. "Only the special ones" she replied with a hint of teasing in her voice. "I find it’s easier to talk business when one is reminded of the weight of their choices."

“Never took you for the religious type.” You raised an eyebrow, surprised at her answer.

“I’m not, however I do like to admire the architecture”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And here I thought you just wanted to get me alone in a quiet place."

"Maybe a little of both" she countered with a sly smile, her eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite place.

You couldn’t help but smirk, feeling a strange mix of comfort and unease in her presence. There was something about her that made your pulse quicken, but you were careful not to let it show.

"Alright" you said, pulling out the file you had brought with you, flipping it open to the pages that had stood out to you the most.

Natasha’s playful demeanor shifted as she studied the documents you handed her. The change was subtle—just a slight narrowing of her eyes, the tightening of her jaw—but it was enough to remind you that beneath her cool exterior, Natasha was always calculating.

"My company’s been making these huge donations to the club”

Natasha’s eyes flicked over the papers, her expression unreadable. "And you think this is connected to Davis’ murder?"

You nodded. "Yeah. My company’s financials are a mess because of these donations. It’s like we’re bleeding money. If Davis found out about it and confronted Bowman… well, we know how that could’ve ended."

She hummed thoughtfully, her gaze lifting from the papers to meet yours. "It’s possible. But this is circumstantial at best. We need more than this."

You sighed, feeling a bit deflated. "I know. But it’s a start, right?"

Natasha didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she folded the papers back into the file and handed it to you, her fingers brushing yours briefly. The contact sent a spark of something through you—surprise, perhaps, or maybe anticipation. Whatever it was, it made your breath hitch for a split second.

"Right" Natasha said, her tone returning to that cool detachment you had come to expect from her. She started to turn toward the door, but then paused, glancing back at you. "Shall we?"

"Shall we… what?" you asked, momentarily confused.

"Continue this discussion somewhere a bit more comfortable?" she suggested, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Unless you’d rather stay here all day."

"Lead the way."

Natasha led you out of the church and down the street to a small café you hadn’t noticed before. It was quiet, with only a few people scattered around the cozy interior. She chose a table in the back, away from prying eyes, and you both settled in, the atmosphere between you shifting slightly as you sat across from each other.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was a comfortable silence, but charged with an undercurrent of something else—something that made your pulse quicken slightly.

"So" you finally said, breaking the silence. "What’s our next move?"

Natasha studied you for a moment, as if trying to decide how much to say. "Well, I need to find out who’s currently handling the club."

"Viktor" you interjected, the name slipping from your lips before you could stop yourself.

Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of surprise flashing across her usually composed features. "Viktor?" she repeated, her voice edged with caution. "How do you know that name?"

"The woman who tried to make me...volunteer," you began carefully, "she mentioned his name. She said something about him being the boss"

Natasha's expression darkened, her eyes flickering with concern.

A chill ran down your spine at the seriousness in her tone. "Who is he?"

Natasha sighed, glancing away for a moment as if trying to find the right words. "he’s ... an old acquaintance, and one with a very dangerous reputation. He’s been around for a long time, and he’s known for being ruthless and unpredictable. If he’s involved with the club, that complicates things." "I’ll handle Viktor. You just focus on staying safe."

You nodded again, though a part of you bristled at being told to stay out of it.

"Why are you so invested in this? It’s not just about Davis, is it?"

Natasha’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite read—pain, maybe, or something deeper. But she quickly masked it, giving you a small, enigmatic smile. "Let’s just say I have my reasons."

"You’re not going to tell me, are you?" you asked, though there was no real bite in your tone. You were starting to realize that Natasha wasn’t the type to reveal her cards too easily. If anything, the more time you spent with her, the more you realized just how much she kept hidden behind that cool, collected exterior.

Natasha leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she regarded you with a hint of amusement. "I've already shared more with you than I usually do with anyone. Consider that a compliment."

“Oh im so honored”

You ordered an almond milk cappuccino, hoping it would shake off the lingering fatigue of the last few days. When the barista turned to Natasha, she simply ordered a black coffee, her voice steady and sure.

“Black coffee?” you asked, a teasing lilt in your voice as you raised an eyebrow. “Black as your soul, I take it?”

“It’s straightforward and efficient” she replied, her tone light but with an edge of dry humor. “Much like myself.”

You grinned, leaning back in your chair. “Efficient, huh? I’m not sure if that’s the word I’d use.”

“Oh?” she asked, one elegant brow arching in curiosity. “What word would you use, then?”

You tapped your chin, pretending to think hard. “Mysterious? Intimidating? Maybe just a tad bit scary?”

“Scary? I thought you weren’t afraid of me.”

“Who said I was afraid?” you shot back with a laugh. “But seriously, do vampires even need coffee? Or is this just for the sake of blending in with us mortals?”

Natasha took a moment before answering, as if weighing how much she wanted to let you in on. “We can eat and drink, yes” she finally said. “But it doesn’t sustain us the way it does for humans. The taste is there, but it’s... a hollow experience, more for show than necessity.”

You raised your cappuccino to your lips, intrigued. “So you’re saying that while I’m here savoring this” you gestured to your cup, “you’re just pretending to enjoy yours?”

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s not about the coffee. It’s about the company.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment, if that’s what it was. Natasha, seeing your reaction, continued with a smirk. “But yes, keeping up appearances is a necessary part of the game. It’s always amusing to see what humans assume.”

“Like how you pretend to be civilized?” you teased, feeling more at ease now that the conversation had taken on this lighter tone.

“Darling, I don’t pretend. I’m more civilized than most humans, I assure you. But,” she added, lifting her coffee cup as if in a toast “it’s entertaining to play along.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head. “So, let me get this straight. You’re sitting here, drinking a coffee you don’t really need, pretending to be just another customer, while secretly being... well, whatever you are.”

“Correct” she said, with an almost imperceptible nod. “It’s part of the charm, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I don’t know…but I guess I have to give you credit for trying.”

Natasha took a sip of her coffee, her eyes never leaving yours. “Trying is for amateurs. I simply excel.”

“And here I was, thinking I could keep up with you.”

“Don’t sell yourself short” Natasha responded, a note of something almost warm in her voice. “You’re doing quite well... for a human.”

You pretended to look offended. “Gee, thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should” she said, “It’s not something I hand out freely.”

“So, what other human habits have you picked up?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you. “Do you watch Netflix, too? Maybe do some online shopping?”

“I’m not quite that immersed in human culture. But I’ve learned to navigate it well enough. Though” she added with a sly grin, “I have been watching ‘Sex and the city’ on repeat”

“Now that I didn’t expect.”

“Why not?”

“I guess I just imagined you doing... I don’t know, more vampire-y things?”

“Like lurking in the shadows and feeding on the unsuspecting?” she teased.

“Well, I wasn’t going to say that,” you replied, smiling. “But now that you mention it...”

Natasha rolled her eyes playfully. “Humans and their stereotypes.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to figure you out” you said, lifting your hands in mock defense. “You’re not exactly easy to read, you know.”

“Good, I’d hate to be boring.”

“Boring is definitely not the word I’d use” you muttered, almost to yourself.

Natasha didn’t respond to that, but the slight curve of her lips told you she’d heard it anyway.

You glanced at the clock on your phone, realizing how much time had slipped away while you were engrossed in conversation with Natasha. "Oh, it’s getting late" you said, a hint of urgency in your voice. "I need to get to work."

Natasha followed your gaze to the clock, her expression unreadable. "You’re right" she said, then paused for a moment. "I’ll walk you there."

You opened your mouth to protest, but Natasha was already reaching for the bill. Before you could even think about offering to split it, she’d placed a few crisp bills on the table and stood up.

“I got this” you said, pulling out your card.

Natasha’s hand shot out, gently but firmly pushing yours away. “Nonsense” she said smoothly. “Allow me.”

"I can pay for my own coffee, you know."

Natasha shot you a bemused look. "Not today. Consider it a gesture of goodwill."

You frowned playfully "I don’t need charity. I’m perfectly capable of paying for my own coffee, thank you very much."

Natasha’s laugh was soft but genuine as she held the door open for you. "Oh, I’m sure you are. But let me indulge in this little old-fashioned courtesy."

“Wow, chivalrous too?” you quipped, not entirely succeeding in hiding your surprise.

“I told you, I’m more civilized than most,” she replied, her tone half-serious, half-teasing. “Shall we?”

“Thanks. I guess I’ll owe you one.”

Natasha gave you a pointed look. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh, I won’t” you shot back, grinning as you followed her out the door. “I like to keep things even.”

The cool air outside was refreshing, and as you both walked down the street, you couldn’t resist asking “So, what’s the deal with you always having to be in control? Can’t even let someone buy you a coffee?”

Natasha glanced sideways at you, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Control is something I’m very fond of. It keeps things... orderly.”

“Orderly, huh? and here I was thinking you liked a little chaos.”

“Only the kind I can manage” she replied smoothly.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You really are something else, you know that?”

“I’ve been told” she said, her tone casual, though her eyes were sparkling with mischief.

"Next thing I know, you’ll be insisting on opening every door for me."

Natasha raised an eyebrow as she fell into step beside you. "Would that be so bad?"

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. "You know, for someone who claims not to be stuck in the past, you certainly have some old-school tendencies."

"Whatever pleases you" Natasha replied with a playful smirk.

"Are you sure you don't have other important vampire business to attend to?"

Natasha arched an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a half-smile. "Oh, l've cleared my morning schedule just for you. Consider yourself lucky."

"Lucky, huh?" you replied, matching her tone. "I guess I should be flattered."

"It's not every day I offer to walk someone to work. But I figured it would be... interesting to see how you handle yourself in the daylight."

"Is that so?" You glanced over at her, your curiosity piqued. "And how do I measure up so far?"

Natasha gave you a sidelong glance, her eyes glinting with amusement. "You haven't burst into flames yet, so l'd say you're doing alright."

You chuckled, as you continued down the street, the conversation drifted to lighter topics—your favorite places in the city, Natasha’s apparent disdain for modern coffee culture "It’s like they forgot how to make a proper cup of tea" she had grumbled.

"Soo" you began, turning to look at her. "Where exactly do you live? Or is that another one of your big secrets?"

Natasha glanced at you, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Wouldn’t you like to know!?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Come on, you can't keep everything a secret. Give me something."

She seemed to consider this for a moment before responding. "Let's just say l've been around long enough to know how to stay under the radar. I've had many homes over the years, but I'm currently staying somewhere... discreet."

"Discreet, huh?" you replied, raising an eyebrow. "And what does that mean? A gothic mansion with hidden rooms? A castle on a hill?"

Natasha laughed softly. "You’ve got quite the imagination. But no, nothing quite so dramatic”

"That sounds like code for ‘I’m not going to tell you.’"

"Maybe it is" Natasha said with a teasing glint in her eye. "Or maybe I just like keeping you on your toes."

You couldn't help but laugh softly. "Fair enough. I suppose I'll just have to keep prying until you slip up."

"Good luck with that"

"What exactly did you tell Kate about me?" You glanced at her, caught off guard by the question. "Oh, I just told her you were helping me with a case" you replied, trying to keep your voice nonchalant.

"Helping you with a case? That’s all?"

You nodded, feeling a bit defensive under her gaze. "Yeah, that’s all. I didn’t see the need to go into details. She was just... curious, that’s all."

"Curious?" Natasha repeated, her smirk growing. "Is that what she calls it?"

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. "She’s just looking out for me"

Natasha chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. "I suppose that’s understandable…It’s better she doesn’t know too much. For her own sake."

"Don't worry" you said, smiling to yourself. "I'm not about to go telling her you're a vampire or anything."

"That would certainly complicate things."

"Yeah, and I don't think she'd handle that very well."

"You're more perceptive than I gave you credit for."

"Well, I have my moments." You shrugged, trying to play it cool. You sighed softly, glancing up at the sky as you walked. "I’m starting to realize that there are a lot of things people are better off not knowing."

As you approached your office building, the conversation naturally began to wind down. Natasha stopped with you at the entrance, her expression softening slightly as she turned to you.

“Now, go on. You have a mundane life to get back to."

You chuckled, shaking your head as you turned to the door. "Thanks for the walk, Natasha. And for the coffee, even though I could've paid for it myself."

"Anytime" she said smoothly, watching as you pushed open the door. "And do try to stay out of trouble. I'd hate to have to come rescue you again."

You shot her a playful glare over your shoulder. "I'll do my best."

She glanced at you, her smirk returning. "And remember, if Kate asks—"

"Got it." you interrupted with a grin.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You were never an obsessive person

Well, you were the kind of person who could buy a tub of ice cream, eat a few spoonfuls, and then shove it back into the freezer like it was no big deal. You could binge-watch an entire season of a show, and when it ended on a cliffhanger, you’d just shrug and say, “Eh, I’ll get to it when I get to it.”

Feelings? Those were something you kept neatly folded in a drawer, to be pulled out and dealt with when absolutely necessary, like taxes or dentist appointments.

You’d prided yourself on being laid-back, easygoing—a “no big deal” kind of person. Emotions, drama, obsession? Those were for people who cried at movie trailers or checked their phones every five seconds to see if someone had texted back. Not you. You were cool, calm, collected. You were the master of brushing things off.

But then Natasha walked into your life like a rogue wave crashing against the shore, and suddenly, you were the person checking your phone every five seconds. You were the person who couldn’t focus on anything because your mind kept drifting back to the same pair of emerald eyes.

It was ridiculous, really. You’d gone from being the kind of person who could forget about an unopened package for weeks to someone who couldn’t go an hour without wondering what Natasha was doing, where she was, or why she hadn’t texted.

And it wasn’t just a simple curiosity. No, this was a full-blown, brain-consuming obsession that you never saw coming. You’d gone from “I can totally handle this” to “I’m not handling this at all” faster than you could say, “I’m not a crazy person.”

Which, of course, you weren’t. Crazy people did things like show up at someone’s house uninvited, or write their names together in a heart in their notebooks, or Google the appropriate number of hours to wait before texting someone back to avoid looking desperate.

You, on the other hand, were just… interested. Curious, maybe. Concerned, even.

Okay, fine, you were totally obsessing. But only a little. A healthy amount.

Right?

Days had drifted by since you last saw Natasha, but her presence lingered like a shadow. Each morning, you’d reach for your phone, hoping for a message, something to anchor you to her, but there was nothing. Just silence.

You and Kate were sitting at a quaint little café near your office, but you were only half-listening to whatever she was saying.

Kate’s laughter broke through your thoughts, and you looked up, startled. She was watching you with a knowing grin, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Okay, spill it.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown off. “What?”

Kate rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. “You’ve been staring off into space for the last ten minutes, and trust me, I’ve been talking about some pretty juicy stuff. So, what’s distracting you? A certain redhead, maybe?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly looked down at your coffee. “It’s not like that, Kate”

“Uh-huh” she replied, her voice dripping with disbelief. “So, you’re telling me you’ve just been zoning out for fun? Come on, you’ve got that look.”

“What look?” you asked, trying to sound annoyed, but your voice betrayed you.

“The look that says you’ve got a massive crush and you’re trying not to admit it” Kate teased, leaning forward with a wicked grin.

You sighed, knowing there was no way out of this. “Its…complicated.”

“Complicated?” Kate echoed, raising an eyebrow. “What’s so complicated about her? Is she married? got kids?”

You nearly choked on your coffee at that last word, but Kate was laughing, clearly enjoying herself. “Kate, stop” you said, trying to sound stern, but it only made her laugh harder.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I embarrassing you?” she asked, not sounding sorry at all. “It’s just, I haven’t seen you like this in… well, EVER. I mean, who knew you had a thing for redheads?”

“I don’t!”

“Sure, sure” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “So, what did you tell her about me? That I’m your incredibly charming best friend who’s been trying to drag you out of your funk?”

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “Nope. You didn’t come up.”

"Ouch," Kate said, clutching her chest dramatically. "You wound me."

"Yeah, yeah”

Kate pouted playfully. “Wow, that hurts. Here I am, being the best wingwoman you could ask for, and you don’t even brag about me? What kind of friend are you?”

“The kind who appreciates you, even if you’re a pain”

“A pain? Me?” Kate gasped, pretending to be offended. “I’m a delight, thank you very much.”

“You keep telling yourself that”

“Look, I’m just saying, if this Natasha woman’s got you all worked up, maybe there’s something there. And maybe… just maybe…you should go for it.”

The idea sent a flutter of nerves through you, but you pushed it aside. “It’s not that simple, Kate. There’s… a lot I don’t know about her.”

“Well, when you figure it out, you know where to find me. Just don’t keep me in the dark, okay? I need details. All the juicy ones.”

“Yeah”

“Ugh, I don’t know what’s going on with this Natasha chick, but whatever it is, don’t let it eat you up. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You nodded, grateful for her support, even if you couldn’t explain everything. “Yeah, thanks, Kate.”

She gave you a reassuring pat on the back. “No problem. Just don’t forget, you’ve got me in your corner. And if she’s giving you trouble, I’ll take her down. Or, at the very least, I’ll make you laugh about it.”

You chuckled, grateful for her support, even if it came with a side of relentless teasing.

You didn’t answer, but the truth was, you were dying to know more about Natasha too. Who was she, really? And why did it feel like she was slipping through your fingers?

- - -- -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- -- - -

[hellokittyyyysblog]

Hey pretty!! How is the next chapter of love on the brain going? Also how were your exams ? I hope they went well !!!

hellooo!

I’m so sorry I’ve vanished for a bit—I don’t live in my hometown, so after my exams (which went really well, thank you for asking, you’re a dear!), I got caught up with catching up with friends and even went on a little trip with them. But don’t worry, the next chapter of “Love on the Brain” will be out in the next few days, I promise! thanks for your patience and understanding!

xxxx

[hellokittyyyysblog]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT PLS!

What about a second part of “Promise me you love me”? Maybe like a wedding part.

I need it😭

Btw I’m fully invested in your series, and your writing is just WOW. 🫶🏻🫶🏻

hi:) thank you so much for your incredible support, you’re all lovely people!!

I love the idea of a wedding part…and now i’m actually considering turning it into a trilogy. What do you all think?

[hellokittyyyysblog]

𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉:

Only -> 𝓃𝒶𝓉𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒶 𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒶𝓃𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝓍 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

.·:*¨ ¨*:·.☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.

Series:

Love on the brain: vampire!natasha romanoff x reader -> You work as an intern at a prestigious law firm, dedicating countless afterhours to your tasks. One seemingly ordinary late night, you encounter a mysterious individual who reveals a discovery that shatters your perception of reality and everything you once believed in. This fateful meeting sets off a chain of events that will forever alter the course of your life.

One shots:

Promise me you love me: natasha romanoff x reader -> A slow morning with Natasha ends with a surpising twist.

[hellokittyyyysblog]

𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓮 𝓂𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒

Pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

Summary: A slow morning with Natasha ends with a surpising twist.

Warnings: smut

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌𓆩♡𓆪﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The early morning light streamed softly through the gauzy curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. You stirred slightly, the faint weight of sleep still lingering as you slowly opened your eyes—your head nestled on Natasha's chest. The rhythm of her breathing—steady and hypnotic, lulled you into a deeper sense of calm. Her arm was draped around you, soft yet firm, keeping you in place—not like you were planning to move anytime soon, anyway.

As you lay there, the world outside began its slow awakening, but within the room, time seemed suspended. The soft rustling of the curtains in the faint morning breeze mingled with the gentle hum of Natasha's breath, bringing goosebumps on your bare skin.

Your mind wandered through the delicate intricacies of the moment, savoring every detail—you wanted it to last forever.

Natasha, the woman who faces the world with unyielding resilience, who stands tall in the face of adversity, now lies here beside you, her guard lowered, her essence laid bare. It’s a sight that humbles you, fills you with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and wonder.

You cherished these rare moments when the weight of Natasha's usual obligations and responsibilities melted away, allowing you both to simply lie in bed together. She was often engrossed in training new recruits or whisked away on clandestine missions across the globe, while your own demanding work kept you occupied.

Over the past seven years of your relationship, this routine had become familiar, even though it wasn't without its challenges initially. Yet now, as you lay enveloped in her embrace, nothing mattered anymore, nothing but her.

The light played upon her features, casting soft shadows that accentuated the peacefulness of her expression.

The graceful curve of her collarbone emerges from the delicate neckline of the sheets, a gentle slope that leads your eyes to the subtle hollow at the base of her throat. You trace the line of her jaw with your eyes, noting the elegant precision of its angle, the way it frames her face with an understated strength.

Every detail of her is etched into your mind, an intricate tapestry of impressions that you find yourself constantly unraveling. You can't get enough of her—the way her hair falls in loose tendrils across the pillow, the gentle flutter of her eyelids as she dreams, the almost imperceptible curve of her lips that hints at contentment. She looks so peaceful, so soft, so utterly yours in this moment—that it almost feels like a dream.

There’s a profound intimacy in watching her like this, an almost sacred act of witnessing her in her most unguarded state. It’s as if the universe has conspired to give you this moment, this perfect slice of time where everything else fades away, leaving only the two of you in the quiet aftermath of night.

Every fiber of your being yearned for her. The desire to kiss her overwhelmed you, ached within you, begging for release. She was right there, so close—and your longing felt like a physical ache, a visceral need. You wanted her to feel how deeply you adored everything about her.

"I can feel you staring" Natasha's voice broke the silence, low and teasing—her voice warm and husky with sleep; whilst her lips curved into a small smile even with her eyes still closed.

Caught, you smile back, your fingers absently tracing circles on her skin. "How could I not? You're breathtaking, even when you’re just waking up"

Her eyes open, a glint of amusement and something deeper shining through the green. "Flattery will get you nowhere" she murmurs, her fingers playing with a strand of your hair.

You chuckle softly, the sound vibrating through the tranquil morning air. "Good, because I intend to stay right here."

"Well, aren't you sweet this morning?"

You lean in and press a gentle kiss to her lips. "I can't help it" you say, your voice filled with affection. "You make me feel this way."

She laughs softly, her fingers brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. "I guess I'm doing something right then"

"You're doing everything right" you assure her, your voice sincere, filled with love and admiration for the woman lying in front of you.

Natasha raises an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a smirk. "And here I thought you were just using me for my bed"

You laugh, the sound mingling with the quiet morning. "Well, your bed is quite comfortable. But I think I prefer the company and….the orgasms" you said as a soft grin appeared on your face.

"Smooth" she says, her hand slipping down to your back, tracing patterns on your bare skin.

Her smile softens, a hint of something more serious in her eyes. "Morning" you murmur as you move to lie on top of her.

“Morning detka” she says kissing your forehead.

"Hmm, how about we spend the day in bed?" you say placing small kisses on her neck.

She rolls her eyes, but the smile on her lips betrays her amusement. "As tempting as that sounds, im not spending New Year’s Eve in bed”

You nuzzle into her neck, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. "Fine, fine. But you can't blame a woman for trying."

"I suppose not"

You shift slightly, your fingers playing with the edge of the sheet. "You know, I think I might just stay in bed all day. I have everything I need right here."

Natasha arches an eyebrow, her smirk widening. "Oh? And what exactly do you need?"

"Well, there's the bed, of course. And the pillows. And this incredibly attractive woman lying under me."

Natasha laughs, her eyes sparkling. "You're such a flirt"

You lean in, brushing your lips against hers. "Can you blame me?"

As you pull back, you notice Natasha's gaze lingering on you, her expression growing more intense. Her eyes trace the contours of your face with an unreadable emotion, and you feel a shiver run down your spine.

"Stop looking at me like that"

Natasha's lips curl into a slow smile, her gaze never wavering. "Oh, so you're allowed to watch me sleep like a creep, but I can't?"

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, but you laugh it off. “Touché” you said before pulling her closer, your lips finding hers in a soft, lingering kiss.

Her hands, which had been at your sides, impatiently find their way back to your hair, pulling you further into the kiss—Your lips entwined in such a frenzy that escalated with each passing moment, harder with each kiss, as if time itself was slipping away.

It was the kind of kiss that stirs up a desire to go a little crazy—one that tells you to let go of control, of cold reason, and succumb to the moment. She was warm and soft against you—yet demanding, and her hunger matched yours with an eager tongue, a flame that set your core ablaze and made your head dizzy, that twisted your stomach into a messy tangle of butterflies.

She pulls back, resting her forehead against yours, her hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers.

"You okay?" you ask—your brow furrowing with concern.

She hesitates, then nods. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... thinking."

"About what?" you press gently, sensing there's more she wants to say.

She takes a deep breath, her gaze shifting away from you. "About us"

Your heart races, wondering where this conversation is headed. "Yeah? what about us?"

"It's just...sometimes I worry."

You lift your head to look at her more closely. "Worry about what?"

She looks back at you, her eyes filled with a mix of love and uncertainty. "I've spent so much of my life on the run, always looking over my shoulder, always fighting. With you, I've found something I never thought I'd have—a sense of peace, of home. And that scares me."

You feel a lump forming in your throat, the gravity of her words sinking in. "You're everything to me" you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. "And I'll always fight for us. No matter what."

She takes a deep breath, her eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. "I need to know that you're as committed to this—to us, as I am."

“I am” you say with a loving smile “I’ve been for the past seven years.”

Your heart pounds as she reaches over to the nightstand—she retrieves a small object, keeping it hidden in her hand, a small almost shy smile painting her lips.

"What is it, Natty?"

She bites her lip, a rare sign of vulnerability. "I... I've been thinking a lot lately about what I want for my future. About what we want."

You nod—confused, encouraging her to continue. "And what do you want?"

She takes another deep breath, her eyes searching yours with a mixture of fear and hope. Your eyes widen as she holds out her hand, revealing a simple, elegant ring. The sight of it takes your breath away, and you can see the raw emotion in her gaze.

"Marry me" she says, her voice cracking with emotion. "I need to know that you’ll be with me, always"

For a moment, time seems to stand still.

The world around you fades away, and all you can see is Natasha, her eyes filled with love and vulnerability. You feel a rush of emotions, your heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of joy.

Tears well up in your eyes, and you nod, unable to speak for a moment.

“Is that supposed to be a yes?”

"Yes, Natasha,yes, yes a hundred times” you say as you pull her into a tight embrace, both of you laughing and crying at the same time. In that moment, everything feels perfect. The past doesn't matter, and the future is full of promise.

A radiant smile spreads across her face, and you can see the relief and happiness in her eyes. She slips the ring onto your finger with shaky hands, and you both laugh softly at the shared nerves and excitement.

“Romanoff, huh?” she murmurs, her fingers tracing circles on your hips.

You blink, your mind still a little hazy from the intensity of the momen. “What do you mean?” you ask, genuinely puzzled.

Natasha's smile widens, and she gives a soft, teasing laugh. “Oh, you didn’t catch that, did you?” she says, her voice dripping with amusement. “We did just get engaged, after all. Or did you forget already?”

Your heart skips a beat as realization dawns on you. The ring on your finger glints in the morning light, a tangible reminder of the life-changing question she asked you just moments ago. You’re engaged to Natasha Romanoff.

“I… well, I guess I’m still processing” you stammer, feeling a mix of excitement and disbelief. “You just asked me to marry you”

Natasha chuckles, her hands sliding up to rest on your waist. “And you said yes” she points out, her eyes twinkling. “So, technically, that makes you the future Mrs. Romanoff.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep within you. “I kind of like the sound of that” you admit, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks.

“Good” Natasha says, her voice dropping to a low, intimate whisper. “Because I love the sound of it.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips.

You grin, leaning in to press a kiss to her neck.

Natasha's fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "And…" she begins, her voice filled with playful affection, "I'm going to have to start calling you Mrs. Romanoff now."

You chuckle, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "I suppose you will" you reply, your voice teasing.

Natasha smirks, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I think I'll enjoy that" she says, her fingers brushing against your lips. "Especially since it means you're all mine."

"Oh, is that how it works?" you tease back. "You put a ring on my finger and suddenly you own me?"

"Absolutely" she says with a mocking grin, leaning in to press a kiss to your neck.

"You belong to me now."

You laugh, the sound filled with joy. "Is that so? And what if I have some ideas of my own about who belongs to whom?"

Natasha raises an eyebrow, her smile widening. "Oh really? Do tell detka"

You lean in, your voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "Maybe I want to hear you call me by your last name again. Maybe I want to remind you exactly who you're marrying."

Natasha's eyes darken with desire, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "Well, Mrs. Romanoff, you have my full attention"

Your heart skips a beat at the sound of your new name on her lips, and you can't help but grin. "Good" you say, your voice filled with satisfaction—"Because I plan to keep it."

Natasha laughs softly, her breath hot against your skin. "I wouldn't have it any other way" she murmurs, her lips trailing down your neck.

“So, Mrs. Romanoff” she begins, her eyes glinting with mischief, “what’s on the agenda for our first day as an engaged couple?”

You laugh, shaking your head at her playful tone. “Well, I suppose we could start with breakfast” you suggest, your fingers tracing idle patterns on her soft bare skin.

Natasha grins, her hands slipping down to rest on your hips. “Breakfast sounds good” she agrees. “But I have a better idea.”

“Oh? what’s that?”

She leans in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “How about we stay in bed a little longer? I think we have some celebrating to do.”

You shiver at her words, a thrill running through you. “Celebrating, huh?” you murmur, your voice filled with anticipation.

Natasha's smirk widens, her fingers trailing up your arm with a featherlight touch as she nods.

You feel a shiver run down your spine at her words, your breath catching slightly. "I think I like the sound of that."

"I thought you might"

You can't help but laugh softly, your heart pounding with anticipation. "You know, I think you enjoy teasing me a little too much."

Natasha pulls back slightly, her eyes gleaming with playful intent. "Oh, you have no idea" she murmurs, her fingers dancing along your collarbone, sending shivers through your body.

You bite your lip, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "Well, two can play at that game."

Natasha arches an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Oh, really?"

You lean in closer, your lips hovering just inches from hers. "Maybe I have a few tricks of my own that you still haven’t seen"

Her eyes darken with desire, her breath hitching slightly. "I'd like to see you try" she challenges, her voice a husky whisper.

You close the distance between you, capturing her lips in a slow, lingering kiss. Natasha responds eagerly, her hands roaming your back, pulling you closer.

Gentle kisses become more irresistible as she makes her way further up your neck. Your fingers lace through her hair as she flips your positions— your back making contact with the soft sheets.

You feel your breath hitch as her lips trail down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. "Natasha" you breathe, your hands threading through her hair.

She looks up at you, her eyes filled with desire. "Yes, Mrs. Romanoff?" she teases, her voice a seductive purr.

"I love you"

"I love you—so much" she murmurs as her lips capture yours in a deep, passionate kiss.

Her touch is so light, it's as if she's barely doing anything, but the fire that ignites inside you as her skin touches yours begs her to continue. She leaves soft kisses all over your chest, slowly moving downward.

As she makes her way lower, the anticipation builds, every kiss sending waves of electricity through your body.

When her lips finally reach your inner thigh, she pauses, looking up at you with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Natasha" you moan, your hands gripping at her hair—"Please" you whisper, your voice filled with need.

Natasha looks up at you, her eyes dark with desire. "Please what?" she teases, her fingers trailing lightly over your skin.

"Please, don't stop" you beg, your voice barely audible.

She smiles, her lips brushing against your skin. "I’m not planning to, love"

As she begins to tease and torment you, your mind goes blank, consumed by the sensations she's creating. Every touch, every kiss drives you closer to the edge, and you can feel yourself spiraling out of control.

"You look so beautiful like this" she whispers, her breath hot against your skin.

You bite your lip, your fingers tangling in the sheets. "Nat..."

Her smile is both wicked and tender as she places a soft kiss over your clit, so lightly it's as if she's barely touching you. The fire that ignites inside as her skin meets yours is overwhelming, every nerve ending crying out for more.

"Be patient" she murmurs, her hand pressing down on your stomach until your back is flat against the bed.

"Natty” you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

She chuckles softly, a low, sultry sound that only heightens your desire. "So eager” she teases, her tongue running back and forth over your clit, working up a rhythm that sends sparks shooting through ur body.

Her hands grip your thighs, holding you firmly in place as she increases the pressure, each stroke over you sending you closer and closer to the edge. Your hands clutch the sheets, your mind spinning with the sensations she's drawing out of you.

"Oh god" you gasp, your hips bucking against her mouth.

Natasha's grip tightens, keeping you anchored as she continues to give you pleasure—her tongue and lips moving with an expertise that leaves you breathless. The rhythm she sets is unrelenting, each flick of her tongue pushing you higher and higher, sending your mind into orbit.

"Natasha" you moan, your voice breaking with the intensity of your need.

She hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body.

Her eyes lock onto yours, a silent command to hold on just a little longer.

You can feel the tension building, the pressure mounting until it feels like you might shatter.

With a final, deft flick of her tongue, you're pushed over the edge, a cry of ecstasy tearing from your throat as you come undone beneath her. The world dissolves into a haze of pleasure, every muscle in your body tensing and then releasing in a wave of bliss.

Natasha continues to kiss you gently, guiding you through the aftershocks with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. When you finally come back down, she moves back up your body, pressing soft kisses to your skin.

"Perfect" she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're perfect."

You smile up at her, feeling your heart swell with love. "You always know what to say to make me melt" you tease, running your fingers through her hair.

"Well, it’s true. You are perfect."

You laugh softly, feeling a warm blush spread across your cheeks. "You’re not too bad yourself, Romanoff."

She raises an eyebrow, a playful challenge in her eyes. "Not too bad? I think I deserve better than that."

You smirk, your fingers tracing patterns on her skin. "Oh, you definitely do."

With a sudden burst of energy, you switch positions again, straddling her waist. "My turn" you say with a teasing smile, your hands resting on her shoulders as you lean in to capture her lips in a loving kiss.

As the kiss deepens, you feel a sense of contentment wash over you. This is where you’re meant to be – with Natasha, by your side, as long as your heartbeat ceased to exist.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌𓆩♡𓆪﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Note:

hello dears!

I stumbled upon this piece in my drafts and loved it so much that I just had to share it with you all! It's a bit different from my usual work because it's my first time writing smut. I hope you enjoy it, because I wasn’t that sure about publishing it…

On another note, I've been hard at work on the next chapter of "Love on the Brain." I know you've been eagerly waiting for it, and I aim to have it ready by next week. However, I also have to study for my last exam, so I appreciate your patience and understanding. ♡

xx

[hellokittyyyysblog]

𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓷/ part 4

Pairing: vampire!𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚊 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

- - -- -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- -- - -

“The thruth”

"The truth?" she asked arching an eyebrow, whilst her eyes seemed to search your soul probing for any hint of deception.

Seeing the worry etched on her face, you quickly realized that your choice of words had conveyed something entirely different to her.

"I didn’t mention anything about the... supernatural stuff. I just told them I was looking for my supervisor regarding some case we had been working on— his assistant told me he was in a late meeting with Bowman so I knocked on the door of his office, but when no one answered, I uh…made sure no one was in there and then I left.” You quickly reassured her.

Natasha's posture relaxed slightly, but her eyes remained sharp. "Good. You did well. You almost had me worried"— She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a whisper "I thought I might actually have to follow through on my promise."

A shiver ran down your spine at her words, the memory of her earlier threats lingering in the air. "I swear, I didn’t say anything about…you know…the thing."

Natasha's lips curved into a smirk. "You seem quite certain of yourself. But understand, I take no chances."

You nodded, a wave of relief washing over you. "I still feel bad for not telling the whole truth though" You said as a small pout appeared on your face.

"Do not burden yourself with unnecessary guilt" Natasha said, her voice soothing yet firm. "You protected yourself and perhaps many others. This world requires discretion."

“You’re right—soo why are you really here?”

She paused, her eyes studying you intently before she spoke. “I have some leads concerning the men Bowman was talking to. It appears there is a clandestine gathering—a sort of secret society. They host an exclusive party every week, and it seems integral to whatever plan Bowman was involved in.”

You leaned in, your curiosity piqued. “A secret society? What kind of party?”

Natasha’s expression grew serious. “These gatherings are not your typical soirées. It’s a place where the lines between business and pleasure blur, and the stakes are extraordinarily high.”

“Okay, so what’s the plan?”

“The plan” she said with a touch of finality, “is for me to uncover more about your boss’s scheme and the men he was entangled with. You, however, must stay put.”

You bristled at her command. “I want to help”

“Absolutely not.” she retorted, her tone brooking no argument.

You met her gaze defiantly. “I need to know what my boss was hiding and why he killed Davis. I can’t just sit around doing nothing.”

“This is not your fight. Your involvement could jeopardize everything—and it could get you killed.” You felt a mix of frustration and determination welling up inside you. “Can I trust you not to interfere again or put yourself into trouble?” she asked, her voice both commanding and concerned.

You smiled, a mischievous glint in your eye. “I guess I could be persuaded.”

Natasha stepped closer, her presence both intoxicating and intimidating—“How could I persuade you?” —her voice a sultry whisper, a knowing grin teasing her lips.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears—She was close, too close. Her proximity made you nervous, your throat suddenly dry, your palms clammy. From this angle, you could see every detail of her face: the subtle curve of her lips, the slight arch of her brows, the way her eyes sparkled. She was beautiful, stunningly so, and it left you both captivated and unnerved. She needed to stop making you feel like this.

“Well, for starters, you could keep me in the loop. Every time you have news… and you could answer some of my questions.” you said steadying your voice.

“Darling, this is not a negotiation; either you do what I told you willingly or I make you. Your choice.”

What harm could it do anyone to tell you what you so ardently desired to know? Had she no trust in your good sense or honour? Why would she not believe you when you assured her, so solemnly, that you would not divulge one syllable of what she told you to any mortal breathing.

You sighed “Ugh, why do you have to be such a buzzkill!?” you said as you walked around the room before collapsing onto the couch.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, lifting a brow. "Getting quite bold, aren’t we? I would’ve thought you still feared me. But no, I sense no fear in you anymore."

You couldn't help but smile. "Maybe I’ve just gotten used to it”

“Perhaps” Her eyes searched yours, as if trying to discern the truth of your words— “Fascinating,” she murmured, more to herself than to you. “You are either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish.”

You shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips. “Maybe a bit of both.” You looked up at her, your heart pounding. “I don’t want to be left in the dark” you admitted quietly. “I need to understand what’s going on…please”

She regarded you for a long moment, as if weighing her options. “Very well” she said finally. “I shall keep you informed, but you must promise to stay out of it.“

You nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and frustration. “Deal. But don’t think I’m just going to sit idly by.”

Natasha’s laughter was soft, almost musical. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

You sat up on the couch, leaning forward slightly. “There are so many things I want to ask you” you began, your voice steadier now, despite the lingering effects of alcohol.

“Oh? Pray tell, sweetheart” Her tone was both amused and challenging, as if daring you to delve deeper.

You took a deep breath, trying to organize the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind. “Well, for starters, how old are you in like vampire…age? Are there rules or a society you have to follow? How fast can you run? Do you have a uhm…a family?” The questions tumbled out in a rapid rush, leaving you out of breath.

Natasha’s eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and caution. “My, my, such inquisitiveness”

“Well, I think its only fair for you to answer my questions if we’re going to work together”

“Is that so? I do not recall the moment when I agreed that we would work together” Natasha said—her tone carrying a hint of amusement.

You leaned forward, undeterred. “Well, if you want me to stay out of trouble, it’s only fair I know what I’m dealing with. Besides, you already said you needed me to keep this between us. We’re practically partners in crime now.”

Natasha’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Very well, I shall indulge your curiosity for a moment” Her eyes flicked over you, as if assessing the depth of your resolve. “I shall warn you, the answers you seek may not bring you the comfort you hope for”

You nodded eagerly, the anticipation bubbling up within you. “I’ll take my chances”

She paused, her gaze growing distant as if she were reaching back through the annals of time. “I am much older than you might imagine”— There was a coldness, it seemed to you, beyond her years, in her smiling melancholy persistent refusal to afford you the least ray of light.

Your eyes widened with awe. “How old are we talking?” you asked with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.

Natasha avoided your gaze, her eyes roaming the room as if seeking something lost. Then, with a fluid grace, she moved closer and sat beside you on the couch. Her presence was both comforting and intimidating, a paradox that left you breathless. You did not scoot away.

“I’m 1053 years old” she said quietly, her words hanging in the air like a ghostly whisper.

The statement echoed in your mind— a reverberation of disbelief. 1,053 years old? —You stared at her, your brain struggling to wrap around the concept—A thousand years. Over a millennium of experiences, of living through history you only read about in books.

But what did that mean for you, standing in front of her, barely a blip in the vast expanse of her existence? —Your life, with all its challenges and milestones, must seem like a fleeting moment to her. The thought was humbling, almost belittling. Yet, it also brought a strange sense of wonder. Here you were, an ordinary person, sharing a moment with someone who had seen and survived a thousand years. It was surreal.

Your breath hitched. “Wow”

She nodded, her expression unreadable. “Wow Indeed. I have witnessed the rise and fall of empires, the birth and death of countless souls. Time is both a gift and a curse.”

You swallowed hard, trying to comprehend the weight of her words. “What’s it like? Living for so long?”

“It is a relentless march of time, where the world changes around you while you remain the same. You learn to cherish fleeting moments, yet you also bear the burden of endless memories.”

You felt a pang of sympathy for her. “That sounds... incredibly hard.”

Natasha shrugged slightly, her expression softening. “It is what it is. One learns to adapt, to find purpose in the midst of eternity”

Your breath hitched, the weight of her revelation sinking in. “That’s... unbelievable. I can’t even imagine living for so long.”

“It is not something one can easily fathom. You witness the world change in ways unimaginable, yet remain untouched by time yourself.”

“Must be incredibly lonely”

She shook her head slightly, a small smile playing on her lips. “I got lucky. I’m not entirely alone. I have a family, friends, and a sister. They make the endless years more bearable.”

You felt a spark of curiosity. “A sister? Like, a biological sister? Is she... like you?

“Not by blood” she clarified. “But as close to it as one can get. We were turned together, and we’ve looked after each other ever since”

“That’s... actually quite beautiful” you said, feeling a strange sense of admiration. “Having someone who understands you, who’s been through the same things.”

“It is a rare gift” she admitted, her voice softening. “Many of our kind are not so fortunate. We are often solitary creatures by necessity.”

You hesitated, then asked, “What about your friends? Are they... humans?”

Natasha paused, her gaze becoming distant as she considered your question. “No,” she finally replied, shaking her head slightly. “I do not engage with humans, at least not for... pleasure.”

“So, your friends are... other vampires?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, her voice tinged with an old sorrow. “Over the centuries, I’ve found it safer to form bonds with those who understand our nature, our struggles. Humans are... fragile. Temporary. It’s difficult to form lasting connections when you know they will wither and die in what feels like the blink of an eye.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, and you could sense the weight of centuries in her gaze. “So, you only interact with humans when you need something?”

She sighed, her expression conflicted. “In essence, yes. Whether it’s information, sustenance, or to blend in, my interactions are often driven by necessity. Anything more is... dangerous.”

“So, you’re using me to get information?”

She looked at you, her expression unreadable. “In a manner of speaking, yes. But it’s not as simple as that.”

You felt a pang of disappointment and a touch of hurt. “So, I’m just a tool to you? Just someone you can manipulate to get what you need?”

Natasha sighed, her eyes softening slightly. “It’s not that I see you as a mere tool. It’s just that involving humans in our world is fraught with complications. The less you’re entangled, the better, for the both of us.”

The sting of her implication lingered in the air, sharper than you expected. Why did it hurt so much? There was a connection, a growing bond that made you feel significant in a way you hadn't felt in a long time. Her presence had stirred something within you—the idea that she might view you merely as a tool, a pawn in whatever game she was playing, cut deep. You wanted to be more than that.

The vulnerability of that desire caught you off guard, and it scared you. Why did her opinion matter so much? Why did her validation feel like something you desperately craved?

You had hoped that in her eyes, you were more than just a means to an end. You wanted her to see you. You needed her to.

Your mind raced, trying to process her words. “I would have hoped you didn’t see me that way” you said quietly, more to yourself than to her.

“How would you like me to see you?”

“I don’t know…but I don’t like to be considered a tool. I’m much more.”

“And i’m sure you are” Her gaze was penetrating, almost otherworldly, and you found yourself lost in the depths of her green eyes. It felt as though she was seeing right through you, peeling back layers you didn't even know you had. The room seemed to shrink around you, the air growing thick with an electric tension that crackled between you.

You stared into each other's eyes, locked in a silent battle of wills. Her eyes held a hint of amusement, as if she was enjoying watching you squirm under her scrutiny. It was both unsettling and mesmerizing. The intensity of her gaze made time stretch, elongating each second into an eternity. Your breath caught in your throat, and you struggled to maintain your composure, to not let her see how deeply she affected you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears like a drum. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, a blush forming that you were powerless to stop. You would’ve blamed it on the alcohol, but deep down, you knew it was her—her presence, her eyes, the way she seemed to envelop you completely.

You tried to muster the strength to break the gaze, to regain some semblance of control. But her eyes held you captive, and you felt as though you were drowning in them, unable to look away.

Every nerve in your body was on high alert and the intensity was almost too much to bear. It was intoxicating and terrifying all at once.

Finally, with a monumental effort, you managed to tear your gaze away from hers. The break in eye contact felt like a physical release, and you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Your heart was still racing, and you could feel the warmth in your cheeks, a telltale sign of your flustered state. You cleared your throat, trying to shake off the effect she had on you, but the feeling lingered, making you nervous and unsteady.

“Do you have a phone?” you asked, desperate to change the topic and alleviate the tension.

Your voice was more desperate than you intended, fear lacing your words. You hoped Natasha wouldn't notice, but it emerged with a quiver that betrayed your nerves.

“Why?”

“Well, you can let me know if you have news without having to break into my house and give me a scare.”

“Are you that desperate to see me again?” she asked grinning at your request.

Your cheeks flushed, and you shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe I am, or maybe I just want to make sure I’m not left in the dark."

She studied you for a second, then pulled a phone from her leather jacket and handed it to you. You smiled when you saw it, realizing she was probably not used to modern technology. You quickly added your number to her contacts and sent yourself a text.

“There” you said, handing it back to her.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, noticing your attempt to contain your smile.

“Nothing.”

“You should know better than to lie to me” she said, arching an eyebrow.

“Sorry, uhm, it’s just I haven’t seen one of those phones since 2012” you said, smiling softly.

“Well, I have no use for it. Why would I get another one?”

“No, it’s cute,” you said, grinning.

“Cute?” she echoed, her tone slightly incredulous.

“Yes, cute” you repeated, laughing softly. “It’s endearing, seeing someone like you with something so outdated. It makes you seem... more approachable”

Natasha’s eyes softened for a moment, a rare glimpse of vulnerability flashing across her features. “Approachable and cute, you say? That is not a word often used to describe me”

You leaned back on the couch, feeling a bit more relaxed now that the tension had eased. “Well, I think it suits you” you said with a warm smile plastered on your face.

“It is late, and you have had a taxing evening” she said, her tone shifting to one of gentle authority as she stoop up from the couch “I believe it is time for you to go to bed.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sudden change of her behavior. “Yes ma’am” you replied attempting to stand. As you got up, you almost stumbled over the carpet, an embarrassed smile spreading across your face.

“Can I trust you to make it to bed without falling along the way?” she asked, one eyebrow arched in amusement.

“Yeah, I’m good” you said, steadying yourself.

“Alright, then I guess this is goodbye for now”

You took a step towards the door, trying to maintain your balance. “Good night” you said, reaching out to open the door for her. Natasha’s lips curved into a smile at the gesture.

“Good night” she replied, her voice a soft whisper that lingered in the air as she stepped through the doorway.

Entering your room, you barely managed to close the door before collapsing onto your bed. Her presence had been overwhelming, but in a way that left you wanting more.

You buried your face in your pillow, letting out frustrated murmurs as you began to grasp the full weight of your situation.

"Fuck” the word softly leaped from your mouth through an appeased air, to which in vain it fell onto the silk pillow under your cheek.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

A strong rush of shivers coursed through your body, the wet grass beneath your heels composing a delicate struggle with each step.

An arm twisted with yours, bringing the warmth your heart so desperately needed.

“Im craving coffee so bad” Ava said slowing her peace. Her voice trembled slightly, blending with the rustling leaves around you.

“yeah me too” you replied, your thoughts drifting as you tried to keep up the small talk. The chill in the air seemed to seep into your bones, amplifying the emotional numbness you felt.

Ava squeezed your arm gently, drawing you out of your reverie. “You okay?” she asked, her eyes searching yours with concern.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Just... thinking about everything. It was intense.”

“Tell me about it” Ava sighed. “It’s hard to believe Davis is really gone. And his poor mother and wife were so devastated…it was heartbreaking”

“Yeah” you echoed, your mind flashing back to the ceremony. The speeches, the memories shared, the way everyone had come together to honor Davis’s legacy. It was overwhelming, but also a stark reminder of the void he left behind.

As you approached the office building, the familiar hum of activity began to seep into your senses. The transition from the tranquil outdoors to the bustling environment felt jarring. The routine, the noise, the normalcy—everything seemed out of place in the wake of your loss.

“Hey” Ava’s voice broke through your thoughts. “Want to grab that coffee before we dive into work?”

“Yeah, that sounds good” you replied, grateful for the distraction.

As you walked to the break room, you couldn’t help but replay your last conversation with Natasha. You haven’t seen her since Friday, it’s like you ached for her presence, but she hadn’t contacted you and the worries that she might not contact you again left you numb.

“So” Ava said as she poured two cups of coffee, “Do you think we’ll ever find out what really happened to Davis?”

You took a sip of the steaming coffee, the warmth spreading through you. “I hope so”

Ava nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah well, im pretty sure Bowman has something to do with it.”

“Yeah probably”

——

As you returned to your desk, coffee in hand, you found yourself immersed once more in Davis's meticulously organized case files, each page a breadcrumb leading deeper into the convoluted narratives of high-profile divorces and contentious custody battles. Amid the dry legal documents, something about the case of a wealthy couple caught your attention—an affluent businessman accusing his wife of alcoholism, claiming custody of their child. It tugged at your heart, remembering of your parents hard divorce.

Lost in thought, you absentmindedly flipped through the paperwork, trying to piece together the puzzle of a mother yearning to reclaim what she perceived as stolen from her.

Suddenly, a folder nestled among the case files caught your eye. It seemed out of place, not connected to any ongoing litigation. As you opened it, you were surprised to find what appeared to be economic data of the company—a jumble of numbers, graphs, and financial projections. Your brow furrowed as you tried to make sense of the figures. There was an unsettling pattern indicating financial instability, a revelation that sent a chill down your spine.

Sitting back in your chair, you rubbed your temples, the implications sinking in. Davis had been onto something—evidence of corporate malfeasance, perhaps. Was it possible he had stumbled upon information that Bowman would kill to protect?

Your fingers traced over the pages, each one revealing more about what might be causing the company's impending downfall. There were records of donations far exceeding what the company could sustainably afford, and a name jumped out at you: "The Old Oak Sip." — It sparked a memory, a name you had encountered before, but where?

The clock on the wall ticked away, a steady reminder of time slipping by as you delved deeper into each piece of evidence which hinted at a larger conspiracy, and you couldn't help but feel a growing sense of unease. The numbers were not just figures on a page; they were the remnants of a hidden truth, a web of deceit and corruption that Davis had inadvertently stumbled upon.

Your mind raced, trying to connect the dots. The Old Oak Sip—why did it sound so familiar? You closed your eyes, willing the memory to resurface.

Could this club be the key to unraveling the mystery of Davis's murder? The thought sent a jolt of adrenaline through you. If Davis had uncovered something significant about this place and maybe the reason why Bowman was making donation to this place, it might explain why he was killed.

Taking a deep breath, you gathered the files and carefully tucked them in your bag mindful of the prying eyes that might be watching you.

Standing up from your chair, you cast a glance around the office, ensuring no one was watching too closely. As you made your way to the elevator, you felt the knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach. The elevator doors opened, and you stepped inside, only to be met by Emily.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked, her eyes filled with genuine concern.

You mustered a weak smile. "Not really, I’m not feeling too well. I think I need to head home. Can you let Ava know?"

Emily nodded sympathetically. "Of course. Take care of yourself, alright?"

"Thanks" you replied as the elevator doors closed with a soft ding.

——

Your apartment was a mess: each file spread across the coffee table, your eyes scanning the documents with a mix of urgency and trepidation. You flipped open your laptop, fingers flying over the keys as you searched for any information on "The Old Oak Sip." The results were scant, revealing only that it was a high-end night club cocktail bar open exclusively on Wednesday nights. You tried to dig deeper, but everything seemed locked behind layers of exclusivity, and the club accessible only with tickets.

A frustrated huff escaped your lips. You needed to get inside that club, to uncover the secrets it held. But how?

Then it struck you—Bowman's money clip. The strange tickets you had found in the secret compartment. You hadn't understood their significance at the time, but now, a spark of realization ignited. You dashed to your bedroom, rifling through the nightstand until your fingers closed around the wallet.

"Ah, found it!" you exclaimed, excitement bubbling up as you pulled out the tickets. "Old Oak Ink Premium Pass." This was it. Your ticket inside.

You held the pass in your hand, the weight of it somehow more profound now. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you let out a shaky breath. This pass was your key to uncovering the truth. Your mind drifted back to Davis, to the look of determination on his face when he had been on the verge of a breakthrough. He had died for this, and now it was up to you to finish what he started.

Taking a deep breath, you resolved to see this through. You couldn't let fear hold you back, not when so much was at stake.

You placed the pass carefully in your wallet, feeling a renewed sense of purpose heading’s back to the living room, your mind was already racing with plans for the night. The Old Oak Sip awaited, and with it, the answers you so desperately sought.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Wednesday had arrived faster than you anticipated, your mind racing with thoughts of the impending night at The Old Oak Sip. Natasha's continued silence gnawed at you, but you pushed it aside, focusing on the immediate task: choosing how to dress.

Standing before your closet, you searched for an outfit that would help you blend in. Finally, after twenty minutes of searching through your wardrobe you opted for skinny black jeans, high boots, and a black shirt—a look that was both sleek and understated. Not your usual, but it fitted the purpose.

The taxi sped through the ink-black night, the city lights blurring into streaks of gold and crimson. The hum of the engine thrummed beneath you, a dull counterpoint to the chaotic swirl of thoughts in your mind. You leaned back against the worn leather seat, the coolness of the material doing little to calm the fevered heat of your thoughts. Natasha’s stern, knowing eyes flashed in your memory, and you could almost hear her voice, a melody of concern and admonition, warning you against your reckless choice.

Outside, the city seemed to pulse with life—treetlights cast elongated shadows that danced like phantoms across the pavement, and the distant murmur of the nightlife was a haunting symphony that filled the silence. You knew you should tell Natasha about your discovery, about the cryptic “Old Oak Sip” but the thought of her disapproving gaze, the inevitable scolding for your recklessness, made you hesitate. You needed to deal with this one on your own.

The cabbie’s eyes flicked to you in the rearview mirror, curiosity evident but unspoken—The taxi slowed to a stop, and you paid the fare with hands that trembled slightly, the anticipation gnawing at your resolve. As you stepped out into the night, the cool air hit you like a slap, invigorating and terrifying all at once.

The Old Oak Sip loomed ahead, its neon sign casting an eerie glow. Two imposing bodyguards stood at the entrance, their muscular frames and stern expressions exuding an air of intimidation. One had a shaved head and a thick neck, his arms crossed over a broad chest, while the other sported a buzz cut and an angular jaw, his eyes scanning the crowd with hawk-like vigilance. A small group of people lingered outside, chatting and smoking, their laughter incongruent with the tension knotting your stomach.

You took a deep breath and approached the door. "Hello" you greeted, your voice wavering slightly.

"Ticket?" one of the bodyguards demanded, his gaze piercing through you.

"Oh, yes. Right" You fumbled with your wallet, pulling out the ticket and handing it over with a forced smile. "Sorry, it’s my first time here"

The guard nodded, his expression inscrutable. "Have fun" he said, handing the ticket back and stepping aside to let you pass.

Inside, a strange mix of scents assaulted your senses—sweat, alcohol, and something floral, perhaps incense. The interior was a blend of opulence and decay. Dim, colored lights cast long shadows on the worn wooden floor, and rich red velvet drapes framed the walls, giving the place an almost theatrical feel. The bar was a polished mahogany affair, lined with bottles of every conceivable liquor, and the air buzzed with the low hum of conversations and distant music.

As you scanned the room, trying to find someone who might be a staff member, a woman appeared before you. She had striking features—sharp cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes lined with kohl, and full, dark lips. Her hair was an intricate mass of braids, adorned with tiny, shimmering beads that caught the light as she moved.

"Hello" she said, her voice smooth and commanding.

"Hi" you replied, taken aback by her presence.

"You’re late. Volunteers need to come around nine so that we can dress them up" she said, her tone leaving little room for argument.

You stared at her, confused. "I- uh..”

“It’s alright, I’ll make an exception…you smell- divine by the way”

“Uhm thanks but I’m n-“ You tried to explain, but she cut you off swiftly “Come on, we have to be quick” she said— before you could protest further, she grabbed your hand, her grip firm and insistent, and began leading you through the place.

Your mind raced, a mix of anxiety and confusion swirling within you. The realization that you were being mistaken for someone else-or something else— brought a surge of panic. What had you gotten yourself into? You felt the press of bodies around you, the pulse of the music thrumming through the air, heightening your senses and adding to your disorientation.

"Wait, I-" you tried to protest, but the words were lost in the cacophony of the club. The woman's pace was relentless, weaving through clusters of people with practiced ease. Her grip on your hand was unyielding, and you stumbled slightly, struggling to keep up.

"What?” she asked not hinting to stop walking.

"I’m not a volunteer. I really need to talk to your boss or whoever’s in charge here" you insisted, your voice tinged with desperation.

She halted abruptly, turning to face you. "Why do you need to talk to Viktor?" she asked, her eyes boring into yours.

You hesitated, heart pounding. "I... I need to discuss something important. It’s about... business" you stammered, hoping it sounded convincing.

"Listen, sweetie, I have a job to do and we’re already late. I don’t want to be fired." She studied you for a moment, then sighed. "You know what? Keep your clothes. They’ll do. You still look gorgeous" — “Follow me”

"Look, I’m not a dancer or a stripper-I can’t dance if that’s what you were hoping. I just want to get some uh…drinks" you lied, trying to sound casual.

She laughed, a melodic sound that seemed out of place in the dim, chaotic club. "You can have all the drinks you want, after someone picks you"

"Pick me?" you echoed, confusion evident in your voice.

"Yeah, some of them are ugh, ugly…but don’t worry. You’ll forget everything by tomorrow morning" she said nonchalantly, leading you through a set of heavy red velvet curtains.

Your heart pounded as you stepped through the velvet curtains, the rhythm so fierce you feared it might burst from your chest— You stood paralyzed, your limbs weighted by a sudden, profound fear. How could you be this stupid, this naive, you thought, your mind spiraling in frantic loops. The sight before you seemed to stretch time, the air thick with an oppressive, unnameable dread.

Your breath hitched, panic bubbling up as you tried to make sense of the scene.

Every instinct screamed at you to run, but your feet were rooted to the spot, trapped by an invisible force.

In that moment, you knew you were in over your head. The full weight of your mistake crashed down on you, leaving you breathless and trembling. The realization was as cold and merciless as the air around you, and you could do nothing but stand there, paralyzed by the enormity of what you had stumbled into.

- - -- -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- -- - -

[hellokittyyyysblog]

someone was thirsty…

[hellokittyyyysblog]

[hellokittyyyysblog]

𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓷

Pairing: vampire!𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚊 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚡 fem! 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Summary: You work as an intern at a prestigious law firm, dedicating countless afterhours to your tasks. One seemingly ordinary late night, you encounter a mysterious individual who reveals a discovery that shatters your perception of reality and everything you once believed in. This fateful meeting sets off a chain of events that will forever alter the course of your life.

Warnings: violence/murder/death/blood/abuse (not SA); manipulation/emotional distress/ Natasha’s cuteness.

- - -- -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- -- - -

Love on the brain : The phrase "love on the brain" suggests that love occupies the mind fully, influencing thoughts and actions in profound ways.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

[hellokittyyyysblog]

hello darlings!!!

the new chapter *might* or might not drop tonight...

xx

[hellokittyyyysblog]

"je lis pour m'enfuir, j'écris pour revenir."

that diary the only best friend, really

[hellokittyyyysblog]

𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓷/ part 3

Pairing: vampire!𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚊 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

- - -- -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- -- - -

The shock of your supervisor's cruel death had settled into your bones, gnawing at your conscience. The mere thought that you were teetering on the brink of becoming the very person you despised—a bystander in the face of injustice—was almost too much to bear. Edward Davis was more than just a hard worker; he was a mentor who valued your contributions, always expressing gratitude for the extra hours you put in. Despite the extra workload he entrusted to you all the time, he never took your efforts for granted. —You couldn’t shake the thought of his wife, whom he had married less than a year ago discovering that he was gone. A man’s life had been brutally cut short, and you were grappling with the horrifying possibility that you might stand by and do nothing. The guilt was a heavy shroud, suffocating you. Yet, the thought of speaking out, of risking everything for the truth, was equally paralyzing. Would anyone even believe your story? and if they did, was the truth worth dying for? you knew Natasha was going to keep her side of the deal.

Natasha’s cautionary words of the night before echoed in your mind—was this knowledge a blessing or a curse? would it consume you, driving you to unravel more mysteries and risk your safety in the process? You had always prided yourself on valuing reason and pragmatism, but now you stood at a crossroads where the allure of uncovering secrets clashed with the very real threat of danger. You needed to believe that you could navigate this treacherous path without succumbing to paranoia or becoming a casualty of the unknown.

Maybe Natasha was right after all—Were you letting this truth about the supernatural world consume you, clouding your judgment and leading you down a perilous road? More importantly, were you willing to die because of it? You valued your life too much to throw it away, just because the situation seemed impossible to handle and the reality too harsh to bear. The decision loomed heavy as you contemplated the upcoming police inquiry—would you dare to lie to protect yourself!? you knew it was a necessary step for your own survival. You needed to protect yourself from the ramifications of this newfound knowledge, even if it meant veering from the path of truth. You were going to lie.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The early morning light filtered faintly through your half-drawn curtains, casting a soft glow on the room as your phone erupted into insistent ringing. Kate's name flashed on the screen—your best friend—whose calls you had been avoiding since the day before. You knew you should confide in her—as you always had. Your friendship thrived on honesty. But the weight of the recent discoveries held you back. You couldn't risk involving her, not while you navigated this dangerous reality—You would never do that to her.

She had been in Bali for a week now, celebrating her mother getting engaged. The thought of Kate, carefree and enjoying the tropical paradise, was a stark contrast to your current reality. Maybe you should’ve accepted her offer on going to Bali with them, you probably would’ve been enjoying the sun whilst reading a good book and maybe you would’ve also got the tan your skin so obviously needed, out of it—the shear, rose of your skin not complimenting your bright, light hair enough. Or so you thought. That seemed far more thrilling to you, than having to dwell between truth and death.

Kate wasn’t exactly thriving about the vacation, but she knew better than to say no to her mother.

Kate's mother was a striking woman with an air of elegance that masked an underlying fragility. She had a commanding presence, always impeccably dressed, with elegant, manicured hands and a natural grace that drew attention wherever she went. Despite her outward poise, she harbored a protective streak towards Kate that often bordered on overbearing. She had raised Kate single-handedly since her husband's premature death when Kate was just a child, leaving her fiercely devoted but also overwhelmed by the responsibility.

Kate often envied the physical distance you had from your own family, admiring how supportive, trustworthy and loving your mother was, despite you living on the other side of the world. You reassured her countless times that her mother’s love for her was equal, if not greater, but tempered by grief and overprotection.

You would lie if you said you didn’t miss kate—even if it had only been a week. Kate practically lived at your place due to her tumultuous relationship with her mother. Not like you were against it. You loved her pecan pie on Sundays.

You and Kate had been best friends since college, where you had been roommates. Both of you were naïve, young, and foolish, but in the best possible way. You complemented each other perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle that clicked together effortlessly.

Your friendship was a sanctuary of purest loyalty and understanding, untainted by judgment or betrayal, that’s why lying to her was extremely hard for you. However you couldn’t avoid her anymore, you needed to talk to her; so you finally conceived yourself accepting her call.

As you finally answered, Kate's voice erupted from the other end in a mix of worry and frustration. "Why the hell haven't you been picking up uh? You piece of shit!" Her words were sharp, filled with concern beneath the anger.

“Kate,calm down” you replied trying to keep your voice steady.

"I'm sorry…yesterday was…rough— someone... someone was found dead at the law firm….It's probably Davis, my supervisor; I don’t know much but it seems serious” you took a breath before continuing to talk “also my boss is MIA” you finished, choosing your words careful to not reveal too much. For the first time in your friendship, you were keeping something significant from her, not out of deceit but out of necessity.

The line was silent for a moment before Kate responded, her tone softening slightly. "Oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“yeah I’m alright…just uh still in shock..but I’ll let you know when they tell us more; probably this morning”

“Eait you’re going to work after what happened?”

“Yeah, we all have to, but don’t worry kate, I’m okay now” you remarked, sensing the need for a change of topic—“anyway, how are you? how’s Bali?”

“Bali’s..okay…I mean don’t get me wrong, the beaches are gorgeous, but I miss New York”

“Oh Kate, not again! there’s only one week left..enjoy yourself, get a gorgeous tan, drink as much as you want, flirt with the boyzzz” you say enthusiastically.

“I feel like you need this vacation more than me” she says with a sigh.

“Maybe I do” you said—a weak attempt at humor.

"Seriously, you okay? You don’t sound like yourself" Kate pressed, her concern palpable even through the phone.

“yes, kate I’m fine” you hesitated—the words had caught in your throat for a brief moment.

How could you explain the surreal encounter with Natasha, the death of your supervisor, you almost getting killed by your boss, and the existential dread that followed?—Kate had always been your rock, grounding you in reality, but this situation felt too dangerous. The thought of dragging Kate into this nightmare felt selfish, yet the need for her unwavering support was almost overwhelming. "Just…a lot on my mind. Work stuff too" you finally said, the half-truth sitting heavy on your conscience.

Kate's voice softened, the concern not fading but shifting into a familiar tone of support. "You know I'm here for you, right? Whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone."

Her words brought a lump to your throat, the sincerity piercing through your defenses. Despite the distance, despite the different realities you were living right now, Kate’s unwavering friendship was a beacon of hope. Maybe you couldn’t tell her everything— no, not yet—but knowing she was there for you was enough for now.

After assuring Kate that you were fine, (which you obviously weren’t) you talked for a few more minutes while you were having breakfast. You probed about her vacation in Bali, sensing her reluctance to share details, knowing the grim circumstances you were facing. Kate didn't want to seem insensitive or like she was boasting about her trip while you were dealing with such a heavy situation. Eventually, you both agreed to end the call—she needed to have breakfast with her mom and her mom's fiancé, and you needed to mentally prepare for the day ahead.

Hanging up, you couldn't shake the feeling that things were only going to get more complicated from here on.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The morning air was crisp as you made your way to the office, a gnawing sense of dread accompanying each step. As you entered the building, the usual hum of activity felt heavier, more subdued. You nodded at a few colleagues but kept your head down, avoiding prolonged interactions. Today, your goal was to blend into the background as much as possible.

As you approached your desk, you noticed a murmur spreading through the office. Small clusters of employees huddled together, their voices low but animated. The news had spread: Edward Davis had been found dead.

The office was alive with hushed conversations, speculations about what had happened, and what it meant for all of you.

As you were about to reach your desk, you found Ava already buried in her work. Her eyes were red-rimmed, a clear sign she hadn't slept well either. You exchanged a brief, weary smile before settling in.

"Hey" Ava said softly, breaking the silence. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm managing" you replied, trying to muster a convincing smile. "I was thinking of going through some of Davis's projects, see if I can pick up where he left off. Maybe it will help keep my mind off…things."

Ava approached with a look of concern etched across her face. "So, you've heard too?" she asked softly.

You met her gaze, a heavy sigh escaping your lips. "Yeah, I've been hearing whispers about it everywhere in here."

Ava nodded understandingly, her expression mirroring your solemnity. "It's unsettling, isn't it?"

You nodded in agreement, struggling to find words that could capture the mix of emotions swirling inside you. "It's just...hard to process.”

Ava nodded, her expression somber. "It's strange, isn't it? One moment he's here, the next... anyway, if you need any help, just let me know."

"Thanks, Ava" you said, appreciating her offer. —You turned your attention to the stack of files on Edward's desk, each one representing hours of his meticulous work.

Just as you were starting to immerse yourself in Edward's notes, the door to the office main door swung open.

You looked up to see the remaining CEO, James Anderson, entering with Emily at his side. Their faces were grave, adding to the already tense atmosphere.

"Attention, everyone" James called out, his voice carrying a note of urgency—"The police are in the building, and they will be questioning all employees. When you're called, please cooperate fully. I figure you’ve all heard the sad news; we need to get to the bottom of this, for Edward's sake and for the safety of everyone here."

Murmurs spread through the office as people exchanged worried glances. Your heart raced, knowing that you would soon have to face the authorities. You glanced at Ava, who gave you a supportive nod.

"Let's try to stay focused" Ava whispered, attempting to bring some normalcy back to the moment. "We'll get through this."

You took a deep breath and returned to the files in front of you. The work provided a small distraction, but your mind kept wandering back to the inevitable police interview—you needed to be prepared, not just to answer their questions, but to protect the secrets you had uncovered.

As you tried to concentrate, the words on the page blurred; the office felt stifling, the air heavy with unspoken fears. Edward's absence was palpable, a void that couldn't be filled with work or routine. And now, with the police involved, the stakes were higher than ever.

After what seemed like an eternity, though, in reality, only about twenty minutes had passed, Emily approached your desk carefully, her expression a mix of concern and weariness. She touched your shoulder, leaning in slightly. "You're up next" she said softly. "The police are ready to question you."

You felt a jolt of anxiety but nodded, trying to keep your composure. "Okay" you replied—your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

Before you could move, Emily continued, her voice a touch more personal. "I also told the police that you were looking for Davis and that he had been looking for you. They suspect that Bowman had something to do with it, since he's MIA and was the last one to see Edward."

Her words hit you like a ton of bricks. Emily seemed heartbroken and incredulous, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I can't believe this is happening" she continued, shaking her head. "Edward was a good man, and now... this.”— She paused taking a deep breath. “But don't worry, you have nothing to fear. Just tell them what you know."

You reached out, squeezing her hand in silent support. "We'll get through this" you said, echoing Ava's earlier words of encouragement. But inside, the turmoil churned more heavily.

With a final glance at Ava, you stood up and made your way to the conference room, where the police were waiting. Each step felt like walking on a tightrope, with the abyss of uncertainty yawning below. This was it—the moment where everything could change.

You could lose everything; you couldn’t afford to make a single mistake.

Emily's small smile as she gestured toward the conference room door was both reassuring and laden with unspoken concern. Her eyes, usually bright and determined, now held a glint of worry, reflecting the gravity of the situation you were all living in. You nodded in acknowledgement, grateful for her silent encouragement, and took a deep breath to steady yourself before stepping into the room.

You entered the conference room, feeling the weight of the investigation settle heavily on your shoulders. The atmosphere was charged with tension, each moment stretching taut as you braced yourself for the probing questions ahead. Thankfully, you had spent the night rehearsing what to say, each word carefully chosen and mentally cataloged. The hours of restless tossing and turning in your bed had given you ample time to prepare, ensuring that your story was airtight. Or at least you hoped it would be.

Two detectives were seated at the table, their serious expressions making your stomach churn. One of them, a middle-aged man with graying hair and a stern face, nodded at you. "Good morning, Miss (y/n y/ln), please have a seat" he said. "I'm Detective Mitchell, and this is Detective Harris." He gestured to his partner, a younger woman with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor.

"Good morning" you replied, taking a seat and clasping your hands in your lap to hide their slight tremor.

"We understand this is a difficult time" Detective Mitchell began, his tone somewhat gentle. "But we need to ask you some questions about Edward Davis and your interactions with him before his death."

You nodded, doing your best to appear composed. "Of course" you said, keeping your voice steady— "I'll help in any way I can."

"Emily mentioned that you had been looking for Davis the night he was found dead" Detective Harris said, leaning forward slightly. "Can you explain why?"

"Yes" you said, taking a deep breath. "Edward is…was my supervisor, and I needed him to review the work on a case I had finished. I went looking for him, but Emily had told me that he was in a late meeting with Bowman. I went to his office and knocked, but no one answered I made sure no one was there. However, I knew better than to disturb the CEO during a meeting—so I left."

The detectives exchanged a glance before continuing their line of questioning. You answered as truthfully as you could, omitting the supernatural elements and focusing on the mundane aspects of your interactions. The weight of your concealed knowledge pressed heavily on your conscience, but you couldn't afford to let it slip.

"Did Edward ever mention any concerns or threats?" Detective Mitchell asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Not directly" you said, frowning in concentration. "But he did seem more on edge recently. I just thought it was the pressure from the projects we were handling."

They nodded, noting your responses. Detective Harris flipped through her notes before asking—"Were you aware of any conflicts between Edward Davis and Mr Bowman?"

You shook your head. "Nothing out of the ordinary. They had disagreements, sure, but nothing that seemed serious."

After what felt like an eternity, the questioning finally concluded. The officers thanked you for your cooperation and told you that you were free to go. You stood up, your legs feeling unsteady beneath you.

Returning to your desk, you found it difficult to concentrate on the work in front of you. The office buzzed with nervous energy, the tension palpable. You knew that the day's events were far from over, and the real challenge lay in maintaining the facade you had carefully constructed.

Ava gave you a reassuring smile as you passed her desk, but the worry in her eyes mirrored your own. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever came next.

What if the security cameras had captured your hurried departure from Bowman's office, or worse, your flustered demeanor? Would the detectives interpret it as suspicious behavior? —You couldn't shake the feeling that every move you made was under scrutiny, every word you spoke weighed against yourself.

The day unfolded beneath the weight of palpable tension that seemed to seep into every corner of the office. Thoughts of Davis, his sudden absence and the unsettling whispers that flitted around occupied your mind, making it impossible to focus on your task. It was a stark reminder of how swiftly people's perceptions could shift; just days ago, your colleagues might have grumbled about Davis behind closed doors, yet now they were engaged in feigned sympathy and outreach to his grieving family—It struck a chord within you, this human inclination to reassess and sometimes sanctify individuals once they're no longer present.

Amidst the murmurs a middle-aged woman, who you remembered her name to be Lilian and two other women who you did not recognize, walked from desk to desk, discussing plans for a gathering to commemorate Davis's life on Monday. Their sudden shift in demeanor, from casual office gossip to earnest condolences, wasn't lost on you. It was a performance of respect that contrasted sharply with their previous feelings and opinion.

Oh the irony of it all, you thought as you sought quickly “refuge” in Ava's office. "Are we still on for those cocktails?" you blurted out almost desperately as Ava greeted you with a knowing look. Without hesitation, she nodded, understanding the urgency in your request. You quickly made plans and escaped the suffocating atmosphere of the office.

Walking through the busy streets of New York, the chill air nipped at your skin despite the layers you wore—you could almost hear your mother's voice admonishing you for not wearing a scarf and hat, which you despised for they seemed to always irritate your skin. The click of your high heels on the pavement echoed in the bustling cityscape, a reminder of the relentless pace of urban life, as you and Ava walked side by side.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Stepping into the cocktail bar felt like entering a different world. Soft lighting enveloped the room, casting a cozy glow over the polished wooden bar, the scent of cigar lingered in the air— the aroma mingled with the soft jazz playing in the background, creating an ambiance that made you feel at peace for an instant. If that was even possible. Peace.

The clink of glasses and the murmur of conversations created a soothing backdrop as you both settled into a corner booth. You found yourself drawn to observing the people around you, each clad in their work attire. You wondered what was hidden beneath their professional exteriors, surely it couldn’t have been as worse as the secrets you were hiding—still you couldn't help but speculate about their lives. What were their aspirations, fears, and burdens? —That’s what kept your mind occupied as Ava recounted the intricate beginnings of her relationship with Louis.

She spoke with a mixture of sarcasm and affection, making you laugh as she mimicked his deep voice and exaggerated mannerisms. “So then he says, ‘Ava, you're like no one I've ever met’ "and I'm thinking, 'Oh great, here comes the line that'll get him slapped.' But instead, I laugh and then I kiss him, and there we are, two idiots laug..” Ava paused mid-sentence, noticing your distant expression.

“Hellooo!? earth to (y/n)" she called out, waving a hand in front of your face. "You still with me?"

You snapped back, managing a weak smile. "Yeah, sorry, just a lot on my mind today" —Ava gave you a knowing look and flagged down the bartender. "Two of your strongest, please.”

As the drinks arrived, Ava slid one over to you. "Here, this'll do the trick. She said grinning at you. Ava raised her glass "To us handling this shit together." "To us" you echoed, clinking your glass against hers.

"So," Ava began, taking a sip, "what's eating you so bad?"

You sighed, swirling the amber liquid in your glass. "It's just... everything that happened today. The whole office buzzing about Davis, people suddenly acting like they cared."

Ava rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Half of them probably couldn't stand him when he was alive. Now they're all 'Poor Davis this' and 'Poor Davis that.' Hypocrites."

"Right?" you said, feeling a bit lighter. "It's like they forgot everything they said about him just a few days ago."

"They always do" Ava replied with a smirk. "But you know what? Screw them. Tonight is about us. No work talk, no office drama.Just you, me, and these kickass cocktails." —You couldn't help but laugh at Ava's attempt to lighten the mood as she quickly swallowed her drink. Taking a deep breath, you decided to follow her lead, setting aside the weight of the day for the moment. Ava leaned in, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Now, tell me. Have you seen that bartender? Total eye candy. And he seems interested, given that he hasn't taken his eyes off us for a second, if I might add."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Only you would come to a bar to pick up the bartender"

"Hey, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do" Ava replied, winking. "And...you know that I’m very into Louis right now, however, I think you two could churn out awesome babies”

You rolled your eyes, laughing despite yourself. "Please, like I need that kind of drama in my life"

Ava grinned. "Come on, you know I'm right. You two would have the cutest kids. Besides, it’s not like you’re seeing anyone else..."

You sighed, taking a sip of your cocktail. "Yeah, well, it’s not exactly at the top of my to-do list, Ava”

Ava raised an eyebrow, a sly grin creeping across her face. "Or is there someone else on your mind?"

"No, there's no one" you replied quickly, too quickly. The image of a certain redhead had flashed through your mind. You brushed it off, convincing yourself that you were just inebriated by her charm—You vaguely remembered reading something about vampires being able to enchant people. Probably just a myth, but it was a convenient enough excuse to ease your mind.

"Uh-huh" Ava said, clearly not buying it. "I know that look”

You smirked, shaking your head. "There's really no one." Ava leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Sure, sure. But if there was someone, you'd tell me, right?"

“Of course" you lied smoothly, taking another sip to avoid her piercing gaze.

She laughed, nudging you with her elbow. "Alright, I'll let it slide for now. But I expect details the minute you find someone interesting. Deal?"

"Deal" you agreed, feeling the tension in your shoulders loosen slightly. —Ava's playful banter was exactly what you needed to distract yourself, just only for a moment.

"Good. Now, back to Louis" Ava continued excitedly.

Watching Ava talking about Louis, you couldn't help but notice the way her eyes twinkled with genuine excitement and affection. It was clear that she was really into him, perhaps more than she even realized. You started wondering if you were ever going to feel that way about someone, if you were destined for that kind of connection—Would you ever find someone who made your heart race just by walking into the room? Someone whose mere presence could light up your world the way Louis did for Ava?—Or were you doomed to be an observer, always on the outside looking in, marveling at the happiness of others while your own heart remained untouched?

A part of you couldn't help but hope that one day, you'd experience that kind of love too— A love that doesn’t need to be asked or prayed for, a love that makes you feel whole without demanding pieces of yourself.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

As you stumbled through your flat's gate, each uneven step echoing in the quiet corridor, the faint optimism from your evening with Ava helped alleviate the weight on your shoulders—though it might have been the lingering effects of the alcohol.

With each precarious ascent up the stairs, your feet begged for respite—the unforgiving heels a torment that briefly sharpened your focus as you aimed the keys at the lock.

Finally inside, you shut the door behind you with a sense of relief—the world outside momentarily silenced as you kicked off your heels—the cool floor a welcome contrast to the ache in your feet.

"Enjoyed yourself?" a warm, mellifluous voice broke through the silence of your apartment. —Had you imagined it? —You had enough alcohol in your veins to rival your blood supply. But this voice, you knew well enough this voice, for your mind had replayed it endlessly for the past two days for it to stick in your mind permanently.

Turning carefully around, your eyes caught a figure perched on your couch, bathed in the gentle moonlight filtering through the partly-open window. Recognition washed over you, followed by a wave of relief.

"Natasha?" you asked, your voice tinged with surprise and a hint of annoyance as you reached for the light switch, flooding the room with a warm glow.

"That would be me, yes" she replied, her lips curling into a mischievous grin.

"What are you doing here?" you demanded, unimpressed by her ability to break into your apartment for the second time. The how of it no longer seemed relevant; you knew she wouldn't explain anyway.

"Looking for you, obviously. But you were taking too long, so I thought I’d entertain myself with a book. Hope you don't mind" she said, casually indicating the open book on her lap.

"I—uh..." you began, but she interrupted before you could form a coherent thought.

"By the way, I found your little notes on the book very amusing" she remarked, her smirk widening.

"Amusing?" you echoed, confusion coloring your tone.

"Yes, amusing" she confirmed. "However,as much as compelling that would be, I’m not here to discuss your insightful marginalia."

"Then why are you here?" you responded, maybe too quickly for the vampire’s liking— your curiosity tinged with apprehension.

"Is my presence here disturbing you in any way?" she asked, setting the book aside and rising gracefully from the couch.

"No, no..." you blurted out almost too quickly. "I'm just curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat, they say" she murmured, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you, her eyes glinting with amusement.

You flinched at her response, your mind racing. Was she here to kill you? Is that what she had meant? Had her intentions changed?

"Are you saying you’re here to..." you gulped, your voice barely a whisper, "kill me?"

"Darling, relax. I can feel how stiff you are. I'm not here to kill you" she assured—her tone soothing your paranoid thoughts.

"Thanks" you mumbled, her smile rendering you momentarily speechless. It was embarrassing how easily she affected you.

"So...you still haven’t replied to my question" she prompted, her patience seemingly endless.

"Yeah, your question, right..." you stammered, trying to recall what she'd asked. The alcohol hadn’t entirely worn off, and her unexpected presence scrambled your thoughts further. — What had she asked again? Her mere presence seemed to erase your memory, leaving you in a daze.

She smiled softly, clearly amused by your struggle to remember.

"How much have you had?" she inquired—her voice pulling you back to reality.

"Uh, what?" you asked, still disoriented.

"Alcohol. I could smell it on you since you opened the door" she said— her smirk softening into a more genuine smile.

"Uh, just enough to forget about everything" you admitted, your words tumbling out in a ramble.

Natasha's expression shifted, a flicker of concern crossing her features. "So you have come to reason; you wish to forget."

"No, that's not what I meant... I, uh, I kept thinking about Davis, and then…and then the detectives questioning us all, my colleagues... It was just overwhelming, I felt like I needed a night out with a friend" you confessed, your voice tinged with the day's accumulated stress and worry.

"Detectives, you say?" Her concern deepened, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Yeah, they questioned us all this morning" you explained—the memory of the interrogation fresh in your mind.

As you spoke, your movements were restless, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your blouse, your eyes darting around the room. — Natasha's gaze followed your every move, her eyes darkening with a mix of curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite place—Despite the day's events, or perhaps because of them, her presence had a grounding effect on you.

Natasha’s brow furrowed slightly, her gaze steady on yours, as she leaned closer. “What did you tell them?”

“The thruth”

- - -- -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- -- - -

Note:

hello:)

I've been tinkering with this chapter for weeks now, trying to get it just right. In the meantime, I've already started working on the next one. But, I have to be honest—I'm not sure when I'll get around to posting it because I've got exams coming up soon.

I'll do my best to get the next chapter out to you as soon as possible!

xx

[hellokittyyyysblog]

"Love on the Brain" is a song by Rihanna from her 2016 album "Anti." The song explores themes of intense romantic passion, emotional vulnerability, and the complexities of love. It delves into the highs and lows of a tumultuous relationship, expressing both the joy and pain that come with deep emotional attachment. The lyrics and Rihanna's powerful vocal delivery convey a sense of longing, desire, and the struggle to balance love and heartbreak. The phrase "love on the brain" suggests that love occupies the mind fully, influencing thoughts and actions in profound ways.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

- that's why I chose "Love on the Brain" as the title for my beloved new story.

that you can all find here dear readers:

xx

ps. it might be a spoiler ;)

[hellokittyyyysblog]

oh the glorious days

[hellokittyyyysblog]

𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓲𝓷/ part 2

Pairing: vampire!𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚊 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

- - -- -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- -- - -

You couldn't sleep all night. Tossing and turning in bed, every small detail of the previous night played on an endless loop in your mind. The window into the world of the supernatural had been thrown wide open, and nothing could have prepared you for the realization that everything you had read in books as a kid was real. But the revelation wasn’t enough—you wanted to know more, needed to know more. The red-haired woman who had saved and threatened you consumed your thoughts. Who was she? What was her story? How many were there?—These thoughts kept you from sleeping until you eventually drifted asleep due to exhaustion.

The day after your chaotic brush with death, the office was abuzz with an uneasy energy. No one knew why there were cops on your floor, but the sight of one of the cleaning staff wrapped in a shock blanket painted a grim picture. Despite your own innocence, you were racked with guilt. You knew the truth about Davis, and only you could provide closure for his friends and family. But if you said anything that resembled the truth, you'd die. So, instead, you listened carefully, curious as if someone would remember that you'd been in Bowman’s office the night before. Though if no one said anything, the cameras would likely enlighten the detectives.

Your mind drifted to your red-haired savior and would-be killer. She said she'd come to you again, and though you knew nothing about her, you felt it was wise to trust her word. You wondered and hoped she'd at least let you beg for your memories. You didn't like being able to remember the fear you'd felt, and your survivor's guilt was creating a hole in your stomach, but it was real. You wanted to know the bigger truth: humanity wasn't alone, and supernatural existed.

The knowledge struck you cold with something akin to fear, but you wanted to cling to it. Now you understood why people in horror films made terrible and irrational decisions.

Naturally, as you thought about the existence of vampires, you began to daydream about the way the redhead had stood before you. Her skin was flawless, her green eyes piercing into your soul, her jawline appeared as though meticulously crafted by an artist, and her lips were plump around the fangs you assumed had ripped into countless humans. The woman in her fitted black outfit had carved a space out for herself in your mind, and you doubted she intended to. Even in your confused terror, you had made a note of the vampire's form.

It was embarrassing how being in extreme peril couldn't thwart your libido. You'd heard something about fear response and sexual response being quite similar; you hadn't paid much attention, but you grabbed onto the idea to make yourself feel better about lusting after who you sensed was an incredibly dangerous being.

"No one's seen Bowman" a woman whispered interrupting you from your noisy thoughts.

A voice from the adjacent cubicle replied, "I’ve heard the night staff found a body in there. Could be his.”

Though you weren't a part of the conversation, you followed the instruction all the same and looked towards the elevators reliving the haunting and life changing events of the previous night.

Suddenly, Ava snuck up behind you by touching your shoulder "Did you hear what happened?" she asked, her eyes wide with concern.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "Jesus , Ava, you almost gave me an heart attack” you confessed putting on a fake smile— “uhm yeah I heard people murmuring about the night staff finding a body" you replied, feeling the weight of the lie. You felt bad for lying to your friend, and lying about something this important, but you couldn’t say a word to anyone. That was the price you had to pay for knowledge. And if that included a dreamy redhead, then you were more than willing to pay that price.

Ava nodded, glancing around nervously. "I talked to Louis, and he knows nothing either."

"That's strange" you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "I wonder what's really going on."

Before Ava could respond, two people with 'Coroner' jackets wheeled a gurney in the direction of the office. Immediately, it struck you as odd. As far as you knew, there were two dead bodies to be found. Your mind began to theorize as to why only one body would be left behind and whose body it might be.

The HR manager and building manager stood outside Bowman's office, frantically whispering to each other. Then, a man you'd only seen in emails and charity events emerged from the office with a hanky over his mouth. If it was a crime scene, surely he, the CEO, shouldn't have been in the middle of it. He looked like he regretted going in—if it was in the state you assumed it was, you didn't blame him.

Though he'd never set foot on your floor, he waved his hands around for everyone's attention. An officer emerged behind him to add effect.

"While I am sure that you are curious as to the events of this morning, we are going to ask that everyone goes home at this time."

The officer put his hand up to add, "Stay in the area; do not leave town in the next few days." They were going to interview people, but they didn't know who to call first.

"So no one is going to tell us what is going on?" A voice pressed.

"You will learn the important and relevant information as we understand more" the investigator replied. He really couldn't tell you anything because any information would have to be reported to you by the company board, and they loved to play keep-away with facts. You'd likely be the only one who ever knew the truth, and you only knew some of it—the cops may never know the disturbing reality behind it.

Though there was grumbling and whispered questions, your coworkers did not wait around. They gathered their belongings and left willingly—they didn't want to stay and work when they could be dismissed for something that concerned someone else. Selfish but nosey people, you thought.

"Do you need a ride home?" Ava asked you, concern etched on her face.

"Don't worry about it" you replied. "I have errands to run anyway"

"Alright, but keep me updated, okay?"

"Of course” you said, forcing a smile —"talk to you later."

You waited until Ava left, then made your way to the restroom. You knew you'd never hear the whole truth about Bowman's demise from the higher-ups, and perhaps that was for the best. But acknowledging this didn't satiate the curious feeling. Whose body was going into the body bag, and what happened to the other one?

As far as plans went, the one you devised was comically simple: stay in the restroom and wait until the cops took a break. Then, you'd steal away into the office and do some investigating of your own.

The restroom was quiet, save for the occasional drip of a faucet—you paced back and forth, your mind racing with possibilities. You couldn't shake the feeling that something important had been left behind, something that might give you more insight into the mysterious red-haired vampire’s world.

You bit your bottom lip as you remembered the hallway cameras. Nothing would make you seem more like a person of interest like sneaking into a crime scene. Maybe you could lie and say that you'd left something inside the office, something that would show that you and Bowman were having an affair. It was a gross lie to imagine, but people loved a scandal, and presenting an 'embarrassing' story might get you out of suspicion.—everyone loved the chance to gossip—But the more you considered it, the less you could live with the lie.

Getting caught couldn't be an option. You had to be careful.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, ears straining for any sound that might indicate the coast was clear. It was close enough that you could hear the louder officers. Of course, it was still difficult to know the actual moment the scene was left unattended.

Your head began to rob with tension, for something that seemed so simple, it felt increasingly impossible.

It took twenty-three minutes for one of the beat cops to loudly announce that they were breaking for coffee. You counted ninety seconds and then you emerged from the stall—you washed your hands—you hadn't actually used the toilet, but you'd flushed—which meant the noise had to be followed up with the noise of a faucet. It was expected bathroom ambiance. You'd seen how movies went, it was the little things that got people caught.

The moment you entered the hall, you saw something that would change your plan for the better, the absolutely better. For lying on the floor, was a cop’s badge. Some careless detective, Jonathan Herrera, had dropped his badge. His loss was your gain, but you'd think about the incompetence of your local police department another time—a lost badge gave you a reason to double back to Bowman’s office.

Sure, you might appear nosey in the process, but you'd have the badge to return so you'd be a nosey do-gooder.

"Hello?" you asked cautiously, making sure that you weren't entering an occupied crime scene.

You were hyper-aware of the cameras at your back. No one was watching you, but all it took was a rewind button to rat you out. You did your best impression of someone who didn't want to do exactly what you planned to do.

No response—you didn't know if you were relieved or upset that you couldn't be stopped.

Inhaling deeply, you opened the door to Bowman’s office. The scene was far less horrific than it had been the night before. The blood on the desk and floor had dried, and the coroners had already taken the body and any additional remains. If it weren't for the smell, you could pretend you were seeing a painting session that got out of hand. What really struck you was the singular outline that laid upon the desk. It was Davis’s outline— it marked where you'd seen him. Bowman’s body must have been missing if he'd been killed there at all.

There would have been larger stains for a body's worth of viscera explosion. The absence unsettled you and shoved more questions into your already spiraling curiosity.

Before you could tumble too far down the rabbit hole, the desk began to vibrate. The sound was unmistakable— a phone was ringing somewhere in one of the drawers judging by the way the vibration was muffled. You could hear that the phone was bouncing around against wood.

Police were meant to thoroughly search a crime scene. Clearly, the ones assigned to your workplace case had missed something. You wondered if it was the responsibility of the man whose badge was still in your hand.

You hurried to the desk and found that the drawers had all been opened and rifled through.

Papers and pens were askew. The police had searched the desk, yet the phone, which you assumed was Bowman’s was still somewhere to be found. The muffled vibrations seemed like they were coming from the long drawer directly underneath the center of the desk. Carefully, you felt underneath the drawer with your fingertips. It was very likely that the cops had done the same move, if it was obvious to you, it was likely routine for them.

Nevertheless, they had missed something— and something that was so well hidden had to be noteworthy.

Stilling your fingers, you felt the vibrations coming from the underside of the desk. Yet as you looked, you saw nothing. The drawer had a false bottom. When you placed your hand on the inside of the drawer, you could feel the vibrations underneath the wooden board. They were strongest near the back joining of the drawer. Again, you wondered about the usefulness of the police in your area. However, once again, police incompetence was working in your favor.

You felt a catch, a small hole that was just big enough to be felt by your fingertip. By applying a little pressure, you triggered the false bottom to shift slightly. The shift revealed the seam of a small panel. Quietly, despite the noise from the phone bouncing around, you slide the panel to the side. There, underneath in a small secretive pocket, was a phone. Whoever was calling, they were serious and Bowman didn't have a voicemail set up. You turned the phone off and stashed it in your pocket. In addition to the phone, a money clip was sitting inside the hidden compartment.

You took that too and without remorse. Bowman’s had threatened to kill you, the money clip was deserved—Or was it? nobody deserves anything after all; it’s simply a matter of who’s willing to go and take it for themselves. No one is just a victim or a victor. Everyone is somewhere in between. People who go around casting themselves as one or the other are not only kidding themselves, but they’re also painfully unoriginal.

Feeling that you had a live bomb in your pocket, you knew you needed to leave the office. Any other spoils would have to go unclaimed. You were certain that you had the jackpot anyway— a secret phone in a vampire's desk was sure to have all sorts of juicy information for you. Even if your memories were wiped, you'd have proof in your possession waiting for you to learn once again.

You sped towards the door, fully prepared to seem 'confused' and 'in search', but you nearly collided with a detective. He instantly frowned, but luckily for you, you recognized him—his face was in your hand. "You!" you said excitedly, though you wanted to vanish into thin air.

You brandished the badge. "I was looking for you. I found this" you handed the item to its rightful owner. At that moment, you realized how to turn suspicion into guilt; some of you're more overbearing family members would be delighted. "I didn't want to leave it with just anyone because I'd imagine it's pretty embarrassing to lose your badge.”

You laid it on thick, eyes wide in false innocence like the liar you knew you could always be. The detective hurriedly took the badge from you with a hushed ‘thank you' and a soft smile. After that, you both went your separate ways. He had a job to do poorly, and you were meant to be on your way home, a place you genuinely wanted to be.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

It was there that you were able to snoop through Bowman’s mystery phone. The money clip didn't actually hold money. There were some tickets or passes inside, to something you knew nothing about.

What you found on the phone on the other hand, made you immediately regret snooping, but the more you discovered, the more you realized that you had found a way to keep your memories. Not only did you believe that you had found your saving grace, you believed it could keep you in contact with the red-haired woman. Time flew by as you imagined the possibilities. You never saw yourself as a sidekick, but perhaps it would suit you. You hadn't been this interested in someone since high school. Yes, you have had your share of crushes on boys and girls, but you never acted upon them. You were never interested enough to take it further than friendship. You weren’t that interested in knowing about people's lives—but now, you suddenly were. But this wasn’t a crush you reminded yourself, this was just you being reckless and wanting to discover things that didn’t belong to you—to your race.

"Human" the voice was like a purr, but the sudden noise made you jump.

You looked up to see that at some point, the red-haired vampire had entered your apartment. At first, you stammered, wanting to figure out how she'd achieved the feat, but your attention was stolen by the way she stood before you. Wearing a black leather jacket, black t-shirt, black jeans and black boots. She was confident, and you could practically feel the power swirling around her. You knew it was appropriate to be afraid of such a woman, and you were, but you were also captivated by her very existence.

"I have a name" you replied, hoping she'd inquire. You assumed, based on nothing, that it would be harder to kill someone if you knew their name. You wanted the woman to know your name.

“I would assume that you do, but it is unknown to me, so I call you what I know you to be."

"What if I called you 'Vampire'? It seems offensive." you say.

"Only because that is a name given to us by humans and not what I call myself" the woman replied.

Her eyes glanced around the room, studying your living room.

"Wait how did you...aren't I supposed to invite you in?" you asked—certain that you'd heard the rule many, many times. And if it appeared in countless stories and films, it had to be based on something true.

She arched a brow. "I've never understood that one" the woman replied, "as if my legs are bound by a spoken statement. I go where I please. I did tell you to expect me." She walked around the room, touching your things as she clearly studied you. Then she stopped at your library, taking in all of your books. Your most precious possessions.

"How old are you?" you asked abruptly, surprising yourself.

"This is rude" she replied. "You have someone into your home for the first time, and you ask them, 'how old are you?'"

Though her tone was fairly light, you wanted to apologize. Many people would have taken offense to such a question. You'd been impulsive, and it made you nervous that any additional poorly asked questions would put a preemptive end to your plan to endear yourself to the vampire woman. Your jaw began to fumble at the words of your apology.

"The less you know about me, the better." she said whilst she picked a picture from your bookshelf—you watched her look at the photograph with a quizzical expression. It took you a whole ten seconds to spit out another invasive question.

"Do you show up in photographs?"

"Why would I take pictures of myself? So others can find out that I don't age as they do? Why would I do this to myself?" she asked.

"But you could? If you wanted to?"

"You've been watching the fairy tales, darling" the woman said, slightly chiding you in her faint Eastern European accent. The pet name made you flinch. It sounded so good coming from her mouth. Okay, that’s enough. Control yourself, you thought.

"Have you also considered why you were able to see your boss during the day? Surely that must have given you reason for concern."

"Yeah, I did actually. Why is that?" you asked while she stopped examining your household and came near you.

"Human" the vampire said firmly. She seemed unwilling to offer you any genuine or in-depth answers. "You do not seem like a person who has changed their mind."

"Well, about that." You clutched the phone in both of your hands. "I got a hold of Bowman’s phone. Not the one he used for business, but one he had hidden in his desk, in a secret compartment. You would think the police would have found it before me, but they didn’t." you said with a proud smile.

The woman was next to you, the phone in her hand before you could utter another syllable. You spoke to her as you remained at her side. Even the shock of her speed didn't deter you—you wanted to stand beside her. It gave you the opportunity to really take in the features of her face.

"He's been in contact with others. They've been rounding up humans to trade for a fighting ring, and what I'm assuming is a slave trade. If you're worried about sloppy vampires getting found out, this is probably something you'd want to look into" you said.

By the way the woman looked at you, you could tell that she wasn't buying your selfless informant act. "How did you find this?"

"I told you…he had a secret compartment in his desk."

"Why were you in his office?"

She asked something so simple, but you didn't have an answer. You didn't want to lie, but the truth would sound so bad. You'd seem so desperate. You tried to modify the reality to save as much face as possible.

"I was curious to see what happened after I left."

"Please do not make me read your mind" she said arching her left brow again, apparently she seems to do that often, and you seem to notice every small thing about her.

"I’m telling the thruth" you grumbled, as your hand began to rub a phantom neck pain—"I needed to know what happened. Even if it was just for a little while. I went in, and then I heard his phone from some unfound place in his desk. You may not know this about us humans, but we're often slaves to our own curiosity."

Again, you left out the part where you studied the phone like a possessed woman in order to find a bargaining chip. However, you could tell that she knew. Even if she wasn't reading your mind, she could tell you were gearing up to negotiate.

The redhead sat down on your couch—despite meeting her less than twenty-four hours earlier, you'd pictured her on your couch many, many times.

"We knew he was reckless, but this is new information. I do not recognize all of the names here; this is most likely purposeful." The woman looked up from the phone and saw you standing.

"This is your home, sit" she said, smirking at your hesitation. And you did. You followed directions to sit on your own couch. "I assume you want to make a trade for this information"

"You assumed right" you confirmed, "But, I don't want anything tangible. I'd like," You took a breath, "I'd like to keep what I've learned. All of it, I don't want you to take my memories away".

The woman looked at you, she really looked at you. This made you feel vulnerable, exposed, and oddly hopeful. She hadn't immediately told you off for your attempts at being crafty. That had to be a good sign.

"I could take this phone, your memories, and you'd know nothing" she admitted honestly with a small grin.

You fell silent, unable to even hear your breathing.

"Why do you wish to keep this knowledge when I can feel your fear?"

"Truth is truth, and I want to know the truth even if it's terrifying."

"I have seen what this knowledge does to humans, you would not like it. You would assume anyone who acts a certain way is forever living and therefore a potential threat. You'll think you ought to convince someone else so you feel less alone with your information. This knowledge will devour you."

"But at least it would be my choice to make" you responded honestly.

“This knowledge, these truths, can put you in the path of things far more dangerous than you realize; and this knowledge will never be enough for you. You will crave more.” She says with a stern look.

"The truth may set you free, but first it will shatter the mirror you hold to your soul." you murmur with a soft fake smile.

Natasha arches her brow and lips curled into a mischievous smile, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes.

“It’s a quote from..” before you could finish to explain, Natasha cuts you off “Oscar Wilde, ‘The picture of Dorian Gray’” she interjected smoothly, her tone nonchalant yet laced with subtle amusement. “I noticed it on your shelf earlier”

Her confession caught you off guard, making you realize how observant she truly was. "You noticed?"

“Of course, I notice many things, darling”

Her teasing nickname and confident demeanor added to the mystique that surrounded her, realizing that Natasha's keen perception extended far beyond her supernatural abilities. She was not just a vampire with god knows how many years of experience but someone who paid attention to details that others might overlook.

"Well, I suppose you do" you murmured, a mix of fascination and admiration coloring your voice.

Natasha leaned back against the couch, her gaze holding yours. "So, about your insistence on getting involved..."

You closed your eyes and sighed, "I want to remember for me. If I utter a word of it to anyone else, I give you permission"—you shouldn't, you really should have kept your mouth shut— "to do what you do...to me."

"Kill you, you mean." She murmured whilst another smug smirk appeared on her face. It was almost as if she was enjoying this way too much.

You nodded with a cringe. The woman's face was unchanged as her hand reached out to you.

Gently, she curled her fingers under your jaw and traced your chin with her thumb. Her hand was cool to the touch, but not cold like you assumed she would be. Her eyes were deep pools of green that made it impossible to think of anything else but her presence.

You stopped breathing as her eyes penetrated yours, her fingers gently caressing your chin, sending a shiver down your spine. You had never felt like this, this vulnerable. Her touch was a paradox, firm yet tender, shattering your preconceived notions with every passing second. You would think a vampire wouldn't be this gentle, this soft—but now you realize how little you actually knew about her, and vampires in general. Maybe this was just a facade—you wanted to know more about her though; you ached with an intense desire to truly know her.

“Breathe” she murmured, a soft smile curling at the corners of her lips.

You exhaled sharply, realizing your body had instinctively halted your breath, captivated by the spell of her touch and gaze.

"Human, you're asking for far more than I think you realize. But I will honor your request for now. You did right to give this to me." Your heart felt like it was going to burst from your chest in an extremely dramatic way. "I will take this information back to my people. Did anyone see you get this phone?"

"No, and only one cop saw me in the office. But I had a good excuse to be there"

The woman didn't seem like she approved of the news, but made no efforts to chastise your behavior. She didn't need to, you could feel her disproval. She stood up from your couch, phone in hand. "I'm going to take this. Leaving it here will only draw attention to you. And I worry you may not have been as elusive as you would like."

"You don't know that" you said with a small frown.

Assuredly, the woman replied, "I do." She headed to your front door. "I will be in touch."

"Do you think...I should be worried about the people Bowman was texting?" You asked, trying desperately to seem less concerned with the possibility than you were.

"Yes." She didn't mince words. "But I can take care of them."

Your stomach flipped in your abdomen. "How will you know? How can I get in touch with you?”

"So many questions. You're asking me to trust you, human. I am asking you to do the same without asking so many questions with answers I will not answer."

You said your name, just your name. If the woman was going to return, and if she was going to be concerned with your well-being, she needed a name, and so did you. "That's my name..."

"Figured”— “You may call me, Natasha" she said looking at you intensely one more time, and then she left. She offered no, 'good-bye', but at least you'd gotten a name; a name as gorgeous as she was.

Upon realizing that you had one final question, you hurried into the hall to catch Natasha before she departed. But the door had been a formality, and you found no trace of her.

It didn't matter; by the sound of it, you'd have a few more chances to ask Natasha about herself.

And she would have plenty of opportunities to refuse to answer any your questions.

- - -- -- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -- -- - -

Note:

hello!

this was originally part of the first chapter, but it became too long, so I've decided to split it into a second chapter.

please, let me know if you have something to suggest or to say, because i have literally no idea of what im doing. lol. This is my first attempt at writing after I don’t know how many months or even years…aaand English it’s not even my first language, soo pls bare with me, I can be very paranoid:)

xx