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storiesabouteli · 3 days ago

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Eli's Gurls // Elijah Hewson X SingleMom!Reader

prompt: Vee (your girl) calling Eli Dad for the first time! Since Lily and Lea said it'd be a great idea 🫶

words: 2,4k

Eli had spent the morning with Violet. She was always so happy to have him around, and you loved seeing that. Your day, however, had been far less pleasant. El noticed it right away—your slouched shoulders and the hint of a frown gave you away. Without a word, he walked over and kissed your forehead, pulling you into a slightly awkward hug. The familiar warmth of his embrace, his scent, and the soothing strokes of his hand on your back made your chest feel lighter. Somehow, it always felt like everything would be okay when he was there.

"We made pasta. Are you hungry? Have you eaten, love?" His voice was soft, his accent velvety and as affectionate as always. You let go of him and looked at him briefly, picturing the scene in the small kitchen. Violet must have been asking if she could help while Eli let her spread sauce everywhere, keeping his calm demeanor and gently guiding her in the same sweet tone he now used with you.

"Did you two already eat?" you asked. He nodded, confirming they had. You planned to sit with them, even though you weren’t really hungry.

Vee must have heard your voice from her room because soon you heard her little feet padding toward you. She came running into your arms, hugging you tightly. "How was it, Mommy?" she asked, her cheek resting on your shoulder. Her words were slow, her voice sleepy. She smelled freshly bathed and wore her pajamas, and her messy ponytail told you it had been Eli's attempt to fix her hair—it was adorable.

"It was good, pumpkin," you said with a smile. It hadn’t been good at all, but she didn’t need to know that.

Eli placed a comforting hand on your back and rubbed it gently. "I bet you did amazing. You’re the best," he said, kissing her head as she wrapped her small arms around you even tighter.

"Do you want me to read to you before bed?" you asked. It was part of her nightly routine, and skipping it often led to restless nights or bad dreams. Violet had grown accustomed to it, and you always made sure to be decent for this part of her day.

But tonight, Eli stepped in before she could answer. "Would you mind if I did it tonight instead of Mommy, Vee?" He was low, gentle, but unwavering.

You glanced at him, your heart swelling with gratitude. You would’ve done it for her without a second thought, but he could see you weren’t in the right headspace. Violet nodded sleepily, and you gave him a small, relieved smile. Eli always knew exactly when to step in and help, and tonight, you couldn’t have been more grateful.

She stretched her arms toward him, her tired body nestling into his as Eli kissed the top of her head. She let out a muffled laugh and blew you a kiss. You smiled back at her.

"Can we listen to music while we do it, Dad?" Her eyebrow arched slightly, mirroring the way Eli’s eyes lit up and his smile stretched wide. You thought about correcting her, but her words were so soft, her eyes struggling to stay open, and the way she called him that—so deliberate—made you hesitate. She knew he wasn’t her dad in that sense, but there was no denying that Eli had stepped into the role with ease.

"We can, can’t we?" Eli’s voice was a bit unsteady, his arms tightening around her as his cheeks flushed. The question was directed at you, and you noticed the faint nervousness in his expression as you watched them both. There was a subtle unease within you. Eli was young, just like you, but with different responsibilities and choices. It wasn’t exactly expected for him to be here on a Friday night.

"Of course," you replied, your tone clipped but not unkind.

He nodded, brushing her small hand as it clung to his fingers. Then he whispered, "I’ll be back in a bit. Try to eat something, okay?" He was calm, but the way he looked at you—pleading yet warm—made it seem like he understood what was on your mind.

"Please," he added softly, and you weren’t entirely sure what he was asking for.

…

It didn’t take you long to shower and slip into one of Eli’s old Bob Marley shirts, the soft fabric bringing a small measure of comfort. Your head was pounding a little. The apartment wasn’t big, and the walls were far from soundproof. It was cozy, though, and you could hear Violet and Eli whispering while Bob Dylan played softly in the background. She liked the music, already familiar with the style since it was similar to what you often listened to, but it made you smile to think of all the new things Eli might introduce her to.

You stared at the ceiling for a while, letting your thoughts drift, until the whispers faded into silence. A few moments later, Eli appeared at the doorway, smiling cautiously as if he didn’t want to disturb you. You bit your lip, avoiding the obvious topic, though there was no escaping it.

"Want me to put you to bed too?" he teased, sliding onto the bed beside you. His fingers threaded gently through your hair, coaxing your eyes closed. His touch was soothing, and as the quiet settled between you, his fingers brushed your cheek, tracing the curve of your smile.

"Does it bother you that she calls me that?" he asked softly, his voice calm but curious. "Is it a problem, lil’ one?"

He pushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, and when you opened your eyes, you saw his. They were warm and steady, framed by his tousled hair and flushed lips. He looked genuinely happy.

"Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?" you replied, biting your lip. He smiled, showing his teeth, a gesture more candid than his usual expressions.

"I don’t mind," he said, his tone light. "I think it’s sweet. Can you believe she trusts me like that?"

You nodded, the thought bringing you a quiet kind of joy. It was good to see them getting along so well.

But then reality crept back in. “They picked someone else, Eli. I’m stuck in this awful job.” You pressed your forearm against your forehead, trying to mask the frustration that threatened to spill over. Eli had stayed with Violet so you could attend the interview, but your current job was a drain, both mentally and physically, and it had been keeping you from spending time with her. If it weren’t for him being here, especially during her break, the balancing act would have been impossible.

"You’ll get it next time," he said confidently, his hand sliding to your waist as he pulled you closer. "It’s okay. I’ll help you look for new jobs." His lips brushed against your cheek, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered if he was always this optimistic or if it came easier for him because his life was so different from yours. The thought stung, and guilt followed quickly, making your throat tighten. You wanted to hide your face, but he kissed it again, soft and deliberate.

"It’s okay," he murmured. You let him wrap you in a full embrace, his warmth settling over you like a protective blanket. But as your mind grew heavier, the comfort of seeing Eli happy—of hearing Violet call him "Dad"—was overshadowed by the weight of everything else.

"Does your mom know about me, El?" The question slipped out before you could stop it. There was no discomfort in his response, no hesitation. He looked at you, his expression steady, his eyes still bright.

"She does," he said simply.

"And about Vee?"

He laughed, not unkindly. He might not fully understand the layers of your protectiveness, but he was empathetic. He couldn’t grasp the depth of everything you’d been through, but he admired your strength.

"She knows. She knows I’m dating a woman who has a daughter, and she’d love to meet you both."

Your cheeks burned at the thought. You wondered how he’d described you to her. You’d heard plenty about Ali, thought she sounded amazing, and wanted to meet her too. But this felt different.

"And what does she think?" you asked, turning to face him. As a mother, you understood that you might not be the best for him, even if the decision wasn't yours to make. On some level, you couldn’t help but feel there was a weight to being with you. Your relationship revolved around Violet’s needs and schedule, and she only had you.

Your hands rested against his back as he pressed deeper into your chest, his breath catching in a deep sniffle. “I don’t think she believes you’d be a bad experience for me. Besides, I’m an adult.” His grip on your waist stayed firm, grounding. That truth settled uneasily in your mind, drawing a bitter feeling down your throat. It made you realize the problem was more about your own insecurities than any tangible reality—but that didn’t make it easier.

“Look, I get why you’re worried. I respect it, and I respect you. A lot. But I don’t see what makes you feel like this, you see?” His cheek remained against your chest, his breathing calm. You traced your fingers through his hair, silently reminding yourself that he wasn’t a threat. Avoiding his gaze made it easier.

“I don’t want you to regret this—me or Vee. I don’t want you to feel like this time spent with us is something you’ll never get back...” Your voice faltered.

“Like he did, right?” His arms tightened around you, his embrace warm and steady.

You whispered your agreement. Eli knew about Vee’s father, how he had chosen not to be involved, and how your relationship before the positive test wasn't bad. Life doesn’t always flow fairly.

“I won’t hurt her,” he said, lifting his face to meet yours. His eyes locked with yours as he took your hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to it. There was care in the gesture, though you could tell he meant it to distract from the weight of his words.

“El,” you started, needing a moment to steady yourself. When you finally looked at him, you saw the rawness in his gaze. Eli wore his emotions plainly, the edges of his eyes glistening as though his feelings might spill over. He didn’t need to say anything; the unspoken words were there, and you knew how deeply it hurt him to see you like this.

“I just think I’m not used to this.” You gestured between the two of you, your finger tracing an invisible line. And it was true—you weren’t used to being chosen, let alone prioritized.

“That’s okay,” he said, ever hopeful. “I’ve never taken care of a kid before either, but you can keep teaching me. We can figure it out together.”

…

Violet was perched on the marble countertop, nibbling on her scrambled eggs. Interpol played softly in the background, and you found yourself humming along to parts of the song as you rinsed last night's pasta dish—Eli had insisted you eat something before going to bed.

"He made me eat too. I wasn’t very hungry yesterday," she whispered like she was sharing a secret.

"That’s just how Eli is," you said, laughing softly. She giggled with you. "I think it’s sweet. I’m glad you ate."

She nodded thoughtfully, letting the idea settle. "Do we make the people we love eat?"

Her words came out a little jumbled, in that endearing way kids sometimes speak, reminding you how small her world still was—and how much of yourself you saw in her. Her conclusion made your heart melt.

"Maybe we do," you said. "When we love someone, we want them to be okay, healthier, uh, so we do things like that."

She nodded again, absorbing the answer. "Can we make eggs for him too?"

Her eyebrows lifted, and you smiled, lifting the lid off the pan so she could see you’d already made extra eggs. You’d eaten some too.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, her tiny hand flying to her mouth in surprise. "You love him?"

You laughed, your cheeks warming as you nodded.

"And you love him too, Vee," you reminded her.

She agreed easily, her little pause before speaking full of that earnest determination children have when they want to be part of something. "He talks about you," she added, like it was another secret.

"Does he?" You raised an eyebrow, curious.

She nodded vigorously. "Last night, he said that you are one of the strongest women he knows and a great mom."

The rehearsed way she repeated it made you sure Eli had used those exact words. The thought warmed your chest, a little glow settling there.

"Am I?" you asked her.

Her grin widened as she stretched her arms out toward you, waiting for a hug. You pulled her close, smiling into her hair.

She quickly switched gears, singing along to the music in the background. Even the lyrics with swear words slipped out, but you'd agreed she could say them in songs. Your mind stayed on her earlier words, though.

"Dad, Mom made scrambled eggs for you too," she called brightly when she spotted Eli, his hair messy, face flushed, and freckles more pronounced.

In her own way, you thought, she was shouting to the world how much you loved him. And he seemed to hear it, his eyes lighting up as his smile spread across his face. Vee had used the word "Dad" again.

He scooped her up into a hug, holding her tightly while she beamed, his kiss landing on her head.

"There’s black coffee too, Dad," you teased, leaning in as he pulled you into his arms, your mouth near his ear.

He squeezed you tighter, his gaze locking onto yours for a quick kiss.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispered.

And you knew it would.

Vee and Eli fell into an easy conversation, her excitement matching his as they got caught up in the music. He kept glancing at you, his fingers brushing your arm or pulling you closer whenever he could. Vee watched it all, the happiness radiating from her.

She was content—content with you both by her side. And you let yourself think that you really were a family. Because you were.

#elijah hewson #inhaler dublin #elijah hewson x reader #elijah hewson fanfic #inhaler #robert keating #josh jenkinson #ryan mcmahon #elijah hewson imagines

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storiesabouteli · 3 days ago

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I want to say that I'm sorry for making every writing a sad reading stuff, sometimes I really try not to

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storiesabouteli · 4 days ago

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hii hope you’re doing well, new story soon? 🥹🥹😊 xx

Lilyyyyy 🩷 I'll post today haha Vee calling Eli Dad one 🥰

#lilyyy 🌷#🫶

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storiesabouteli · 10 days ago

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Eli's gurl // Elijah Hewson X SingleMom!Reader (Fluff)

prompt: Violet had a minor accident, and Eli is there to calm her down, even though he's dead worried for her.

words: 1,8K

a/n: It's a strange trope, I admit, but I love writing kids, and I'm stressed, so this will happen again. Plus, Eli would be deffo super protective dad of a lil girl. (Yep, I'm running out of inspo too).

Your hands were cold, and you remembered your mother, your mind quickly recalling the need for bandages when you got hurt as a child. You hated that—when something bad happened and adrenaline only made it feel worse. But this time, something felt serious than usual. When Elijah called, you were just about to wrap up a meeting. His voice was shaky, and you could picture his nervous fingers ruffling his hair. This naturally made you uneasy. As you asked questions, he seemed to grow even more unsettled. Finally, it was clear that you’d need to pick them up from the hospital.

A tight knot formed in your throat, tension heavy in the air. The search for a parking spot felt endless, and parallel parking turned into one of the worst experiences of your life. Feeling how stiff your body had become, you leaned back in the seat, closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. Gradually, your mind slowed as you thought of how Eli always knew how to calm her, whether she was in pain, nervous, or sleepy. She would hold his index finger in her small hand and rest her freckled face against his chest, seeking comfort. He had a way of making her feel heard and special, and you found yourself loving him even more each time you saw these moments. This brief thought offered some relief; after all, you trusted him.

Violet wasn’t biologically his, yet Eli treated her as if she were. It took you a while to introduce her to him, something he always understood, knowing how important it was for you. You’d been alone with her for quite some time, and although you’d tried dating a few times, there was a mental gap between your post-Vee body changes and the emotional and physical baggage that came with having her by your side. You didn’t regret it, but it was true—you couldn’t hold onto someone when your responsibilities were the very ones people your age often avoided. Not that they shouldn’t, of course; you understood that choice well. But you did start to think about opening up to someone again. You wanted to try, to feel the thrill of having someone who truly wanted you. When Eli came along, you were cautious, though you liked him right from the start. A long conversation unfolded at a show you’d attended without much expectation, and initially, you avoided the topic, wanting to enjoy his attention. But as your time together grew, you eventually told him about Violet, and he didn’t pull away.

The scene before you was all too familiar: Vee, with a pouting face, clung tightly to Eli’s shirt, while his warm, caramel eyes showed his worry. The room, painted in soft shades of blue, had small animal drawings on the walls, and the table held sterilized thick needles and thread. Elijah appeared even more tense than Violet.

"Look at me, it’s okay, little one," he whispered gently, holding her close and doing his best to comfort her. His eyes were red and misted over as they met her pained gaze, tears welling up in response to hers.

She intertwined her fingers in his shirt tighter and closed her eyes; his voice remained soft, just like the hand resting tenderly on her shoulder. “You’re very brave,” he murmured with a comforting accent. That brought a faint smile to your face. As the doctor stepped back, Vee noticed you standing there. “Mommy?!” Eli looked at you, visibly more at ease, and you nodded at him before going over to kiss your little one. Her eyes were small and tired, and you let her curl up in your arms. “How are you feeling?” you asked. She rested her cheek against your shoulder, carefully avoiding touching the bandage, and nodded. “Good. I cried a lot, but El was right—it didn’t hurt that much, and I feel better now that it’s over,” she said in small pauses, choosing her words just like Eli did, which you found so endearing. He usually laughed at this, but this time, concern overshadowed his usual smile.

“I want to go home, please?” Vee whimpered. As soon as she asked, you looked over at Eli, and he nodded, suggesting you go ahead to the car while he picked up the medications she’d need. His brief words and downcast eyes hinted at a sense of guilt, so you agreed to wait for him. You hated the thought that he might see her as his responsibility.

You stood beside her, gently holding her chair and placing your jacket behind her head to keep it steady. “Want me to drive, love?” You rubbed his shoulders, and though distracted, he turned to catch a kiss from you. “She’s okay,” you said when he confirmed he was fine with you driving. He let out a heavy sigh, as if about to say, “But what if…” in protest, but he held back.

The drive home was quick, and now and then, he glanced at the two of you in the rearview mirror. He couldn’t deny that seeing your gentle smile made him feel more at ease. Once you were inside, with Vee resting in his arms, he finally let out what had been weighing on him. “I let her fall off the playset,” he admitted, looking down at her with a mixture of guilt and sadness pressing in his chest. “I was watching, you know? Thought it’d be good to give her some independence but stayed close. I tried to catch her before she fell, but… it just didn’t work.”

You listened carefully, sensing the tension in his voice. He placed her on the bed, gently untangling her fingers from his shirt. “We won’t be able to protect her forever, El. It’s important she learns that too,” you said, arranging blankets around the bed to keep her safe while she rested. She lay there peacefully, her hair tousled, the haircut a try of her attempt to look more like Eli. He was certain that you were the voice of reason. Her eyes were a bit swollen from crying, and you smiled to yourself, feeling a mix of tenderness and quiet pride. Eli was a solid figure in her life.

"I’m afraid she might think I won’t be able to help her when she needs it, that she won’t trust me. I don’t like the feeling of not having stopped something bad from happening to her," he said in a low breath, his eyes distant and not meeting yours, and you felt the knot in your throat.

"Don’t say that," you disagreed, walking over to him, standing on your tiptoes as you used your fingers to wipe away his tears. "Do you realize that your concern about this makes you the best person she could have?" His shoulders softened, his eyes gaining a bit of light, still searching for the right words.

"Are you mad or upset?" The tip of his nose touched yours, his hair tickling you. He was a fool, worrying too much.

"Of course not, if I didn’t trust you, you wouldn’t be near my daughter, especially alone." He laughed, allowing you to hug him. Still, she felt the need to add, "She’s not your responsibility, and yet you treat her so well." You said that sometimes, and Eli found himself wondering how people judged you for it, and it hurt a little to see how much it weighed on you, no matter what he said. But he was still there, you’d have to get used to it.

He kissed your forehead, happy with how your face nestled into his chest, the pleasant scent finally allowing him to breathe without a heavy heart. "She’s a sweetheart, so much like you. I love her. I enjoy being with her." That relaxed you, even though you had heard it before, something broken inside you still made it feel like the first time. Eli would repeat it as many times as needed.

"I don’t like seeing her hurt or knowing she’s scared, but it’s not like I think it’s your fault, I know it wasn’t. Kids are unpredictable, and she trusts you so much that won’t change now. In that room, she was so focused on you, on your voice and your calmness—which I know you were acting—making her know everything would be fine." He hadn’t thought about it that way, but he realized it was true.

He was afraid that Vee might be upset with him in some way, but everything, as you said, pointed to the fact that she wasn't. "But you can talk to her tomorrow, what do you think? You can tell her how you feel, and let her know she can count on you when she needs you, because you'll always be there for her, uh?" He nodded, it seemed like a good idea. It was funny to think that all he needed was to talk to you, for his mind to calm down and for things to make sense. It was like that in many areas of his life.

His nose brushed against your neck, and he kissed the spot, followed by your face. You hugged him tighter. "I love you – so much." He sighed, and you could feel that he was less worried. "I love you too." His lips touched yours, and he lightly laughed at the salty taste.

"Do you want to eat something? What did you have for lunch?" You tried to break the melancholic mood. "I didn’t really have lunch, though I made Vee eat while we were waiting at the hospital, and she made me eat some of the sandwiches I made for her." He saw you bite your lip, and there was a silent understanding between you, which made him not have to mention how much Vee was like you. Besides, it only confirmed what you had already said; he was good for her.

"Alright, we’ll eat now, before you go crazy without nutrients in your body." His laugh was casual, and it felt good to see him well.

The next morning, still groggy, trying to avoid getting up, you heard Violet’s voice speaking softly to him. When you opened your eyes, you saw them both by your side, her little hands on Eli’s cheeks, counting his freckles with her fingertips, gently feeling his beard as he held back a smile.

"It’s okay, I insisted on going down the slide by myself, but you were still there with me." She rested her face on his chest, and he kissed her head multiple times. She stretched her hand toward you when she saw you waking up, holding yours. "Good morning, mommy." Seeing her happy made you happy too.

It was so good to have them both. The bandage this time was pink, and you cursed yourself a little for missing Eli’s interaction with her while he treated her wound. She jumped into your arms, hugging you tightly, and he looked at you with shining eyes and a gentle expression that said, "You were right, and I was way too worried for no reason."

#elijah hewson #inhaler dublin #elijah hewson fanfic #elijah hewson x reader #inhaler #elijah hewson imagines

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storiesabouteli · 11 days ago

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guys hear me out!!

Romance (Maybe it's a place) // Elijah Hewson X fem!Reader. PART 1

prompt: Eli is a vampire who falls in love with a human. The story explores the passage of time and the challenge of maintaining a relationship between two very different beings. It’s a guide on how to date a vampire/human while seeking a place of comfort in someone—and all the complexity that this longing brings.

words: 4K

(it'll probs 2 or 3 parts, it won't be long promise!)

There was nothing to expect, no prospects for the next day. Everything felt empty, his chest heavy, despite the absence of a beating heart. He wasn’t tired of the life he led; it was simply that so many years had passed, and he felt he’d experienced it all. Then, you showed up.

“Uh, she has this endearing look when she’s around me, like when you discover something new and know it’s going to be worth every moment. It’s still like that, even though we’ve been together for a while. I think I’ve gotten used to the idea that she knows who I am and isn’t afraid of me, even though I still watch my every move, thinking it might come to the surface one day. My point is, Josh, my human is kind and deserves a beautiful life. We’re not on the same page, but I can’t let her go.”

His voice cracked, eyes filling with tears, and he welcomed the feeling—it had been a long time since he’d felt anything like this. Over time, he’d grown numb to so many things. Josh sighed, understanding the weight of what Eli was going through but knowing there was little he could do.

“Eli, you’ll know what to do. You can agonize over it and delay all you want, but not making a decision right now is already making a decision.”

Josh had offered advice—he was a bit more adaptable to modern trends, though he knew how to use a phone just fine. He had tried getting Eli on board with it, considering up until recently, he still received letters, written as outdatedly as Eli sounded when he spoke on the phone. It was like he was composing his words with an old-world elegance, carefully phrasing each sentiment. But then you came along, and suddenly, he found himself adjusting to screens and adopting habits a bit more in tune with the present day.

Eli rubbed his face with a frustrated urge to shout. He had hoped his friend would offer a practical solution, but he knew this was the truth. Many of them had been through something similar. He knew what he wanted; he’d seen both paths before. And yet, he kept overthinking it, as if that would help somehow.

...

Eli chose heavier coats when he went out with you—usually something soft, like wool, more inviting to touch. “You alright, love?” His thick accent made you glance up at him. You couldn’t answer right away; all you wanted was to stay pressed against his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. There were no steady heartbeats to listen to, but his breathing—always at the same, calming rhythm—was comforting in its own way.

“Yes, El,” you murmured, slipping your hands into your own hoodie pockets. The cold air wasn’t helping. “You’re freezing,” he said, with a hint of guilt, the words lingering like it should’ve been obvious this would happen. But you didn’t mind. You chuckled; sometimes he was quick to worry. “I’ll go grab more blankets, alright, grumpy?” You didn’t want to downplay his concern but hoped to ease the way he saw it.

You took his face in your hands, kissing his naturally flushed cheek, then pressed closer, brushing a kiss to his lips. He savored the warmth eagerly, even though he could feel the chill in your fingers and nose—areas that must’ve ached from the cold. Embarrassed, he looked away for a moment, until you returned with more blankets. Wrapping yourself in one and placing another thick layer between you and him, it wasn’t ideal, but it worked; you could hold onto him, enough to count as a hug; proper physical contact.

He took in the scent of your hair, and it was enough—these little moments that reminded him you were his human, seeing every detail about him as a feature, never a threat (which was a little worrying, if he was honest). Eli held you close between the blankets, feeling a bit better.

“You know, El,” you said, turning your face to invite him in for a soft kiss, “your body temperature is going to be really useful in the summer. It’ll be nice.” He laughed, noticing your lips were warming up again.

...

Eli was waiting for your shift to end at the bar, his usual spot reserved with that easygoing smile. You'd started a weekend night job, one that fit around your studies, and he'd made it a point to pick you up every night so you wouldn't walk home alone. There he was, leather jacket, cigarette between his fingers, his hair charmingly tousled. He leaned on the bar, a soft, inviting smile playing on his lips as he ordered a drink. "You look beautiful." He tilted his head, letting the dim light catch his gaze as he took you in. You'd put in a little extra effort tonight – waves in your hair, a cinched dress under your apron, all for the quiet thrill of seeing Eli at the end of it.

"You too," you murmured, cheeks heating up as he let out a soft chuckle. His hand met yours briefly, the contrast in temperature catching you off guard, so he held onto them a little longer than usual. You slipped off your apron, glancing around to make sure everything was in order, and turned back to him. Eli rarely smiled fully-one of those open, toothy smiles. But whenever he did, you couldn't help but imagine those sharp canines showing, a detail he'd told you only appeared at his choosing. You had never seen them before, but fairy tales made you think it would be cute. Eli wasn't the tough type.

"And you're hot," he whispered with that thick accent, words lingering just long enough to leave you wanting more. You felt his cold hands at your waist, fingers resting lightly, and wrapped one hand in his hair, pulling just enough to get that quick intake of breath, followed by the softest sound that showed he liked you being a bit bold. "I like the dress," he murmured faster, hands resting on your hips as he nudged you back against the wall at the exit, his body pressed close against yours. It was quick, a thud against the wall that didn't hurt, but he caught himself, realizing you weren't quite like him. His apologies were soft, but you just whispered, "I like that, to be honest," which made his eyebrows raise in a mix of excitement and teasing.

The hem of your dress hitched a bit as he held you close, your pulse quickening against him, and the smirk on his lips only grew. Your eyes traced the freckles across his nose, his pink lips near yours, and it left you a bit breathless. "You're dying for me to kiss you, aren't you?" And you were. He cradled your face, pressing a kiss to your cheek, trailing down to your jaw. Your hands trailed up his arms, reaching his neck, pulling him closer. He nestled into the crook of your neck, his soft hair tickling your skin. "Missed me that much, El?" you asked before his eyes lifted to meet yours. He finally pressed his lips against yours, slow and deep, and you sighed into it, feeling everything melt away.

"I did. So much." His eyes had a soft gleam to them, a smile lingering, one that felt like it was just for you. Seeing your shaky breaths, he peppered your lips with little kisses until you settled, or at least got used to the fact that he wasn't about to stop. "Do... do your teeth ever show?" It slipped out before you could stop yourself. His eyes dropped for a second, awareness hitting him, and you instantly felt bad. "Sorry, you said I could ask."

"It's fine," he reassured you, fingers still gentle. His rings brushed your skin – a subtle reminder that he was there, by your side, despite whatever thoughts he kept to himself. "I won't bite you, okay?" His voice had a deep warmth, cautious but reassuring, and you let yourself believe him. He kissed you again, the same trail as before, from your cheek to your jaw, then this time letting his lips brush along your neck. You melted, fully aware of the way he held you. The kisses were soft and warm, pulling your eyes shut, and truthfully, you didn't fear much. Eli wasn't cruel, and you'd give him the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise. You felt a faint graze, almost a scratch – it felt good. This was good. "I won't hurt you, little one." You'd talked about it before, those early questions you had about his predatory nature, and he'd told you he could handle it. He needed things but managed them.

"Maybe I'd like it if you did," you teased, part joke, part honest. He drew back, clearly content with all of it. "We should go. We're in public, miss." You groaned, laughing in playful protest.

...

The first time, you sent him a message saying you needed company, that you weren’t doing well. That way, he’d have the choice, the option to decide not to stay if he didn’t want to. But Eli called immediately—there was no time for your mind to spin into catastrophic scenarios. He briefly asked what was going on and if you needed anything (he didn’t even remember the names of medications anymore). It was clear he’d be spending the weekend by your side.

There was something about his presence that made you feel better, and knowing he’d be there in person filled you with a renewed sense of relief.

“I can turn my back, even if I’m in the

bathroom.” He said it so casually, and he was hard to read sometimes; every now and then, he seemed almost detached. You curled your toes, wrapped in a towel and seated on the edge of the toilet. He stood in the doorway, trying to figure out the best way to help. You needed a shower—your temperature was all over the place, and it would ease things a bit. But your feet ached at the slightest touch of the floor, and your shoulders were so heavy that you felt you’d collapse if you stood for too long.

“Can you?” Your voice came out low, soft, as if admitting just how much you needed him, even though you didn’t want to. Eli looked at you, and his expression softened as he came closer, kneeling down in front of you. His hands cupped your face, brushing your hair out of your eyes. You looked so tired, and instinctively, your cheek pressed into his palm, despite the chill of his skin against you. He pulled back, but you held his hand there, keeping him close.

“You know you shouldn’t wait ‘til things get worse before calling me, don’t you?” He spoke gently. You nodded, but dealing with this on your own was second nature; it was just how things had always been. Your eyes lingered on his tank top, the small star tattoo peeking out alongside his necklace, and a few scattered freckles across his shoulder. Your warm fingers traced over them, grazing those little dots softly. He smiled, and you looked up to see his eyes crinkling at the edges, that pointed nose and unruly curls, with a few locks twisted just perfectly.

He was beautiful, maybe that was why he wasn't human. Pale, rarely a fan of sunlight, but not repelled by daylight either. He didn’t sleep in a coffin or flinch at garlic; he’d answered all your questions, even if he felt uneasy talking about it. You often avoided asking too much. He needed blood but had assured you it wasn’t as dire as the movies made it seem—he didn’t hurt anyone, didn’t kill innocents.

You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him close. The intimacy of being wrapped only in a towel didn’t faze him; he was there just to help. “It’s chronic,” you admitted, barely holding back tears. “It’ll keep happening, and I don’t want to depend on you… but I’m just, uh, so tired.” He heard the strain in your voice, the soft sniffle, and drew you closer. His hands moved gently along your back as your cheek rested against his shoulder, forehead pressed to his neck. He kissed the top of your head, feeling a deep ache he hadn’t felt in years. For a fleeting moment, he felt the exhaustion you bore—aching shoulders, tired eyes, a sudden warmth creeping into his skin.

He couldn’t take this from you, but he’d stay with you as long as you allowed. “Well, then, I’ll be here with you more often, and as often as you need,” he said, and you simply held him a little tighter, eyes meeting his. He noticed the subtle dark rings beneath them, a telltale human weariness he found beautiful, something unique to you. Morning puffiness, the way your scent changed with the seasons—these little shifts only added to your charm in his eyes.

Feeling a bit lighter, you were ready to try standing. “I won’t look, I promise, love,” he murmured, and you knew he wouldn’t. Slowly, you stepped into the shower, letting the water pour over you, hoping the fever would slip away down the drain. Through the steam, you could just make out his silhouette, back turned, his posture more relaxed with you nearby. You’d seen him tense up in public around you, but you understood.

He didn’t look, not even once. When you were done, you let him know, narrating as you dried off and dressed. When you finally said you were ready, he turned around with a soft smile, placed a gentle hand on your waist, and kissed your forehead. Then he led you out, guiding you with a steady grip.

Lying on your back, you stared up at the ceiling while he lay beside you, careful not to touch, as if he knew it might not be what you needed right now. The bed felt small with him so close. You took his hand and guided it to rest at the crook of your neck and shoulder. “The feeling of warmth happens when the fever reaches the new set point the body establishes. At that moment, blood vessels dilate to release heat, and you start sweating to cool the body down.” Your words came out so precise, almost like a textbook. Eli smiled, clearly thinking you’d looked it up somewhere for him. Still, your temperature was finally stabilizing, and his natural coolness seemed to help. “Do you still feel any pain?” he asked, his eyes growing heavy, yet relieved to see you were getting better.

“Just a little, I’m much better now. You’re like an angel,” you murmured, watching his nose wrinkle slightly. You found it curious how he felt emotions without any functional organs. His body didn’t give him trouble; he was visually healthy, able to just… live. You weren’t sure if you wanted to be like him, but something about it felt unfair. Silence settled over you both, and he turned on his side, his deep, amber eyes holding yours, drawing you in.

“Can you turn people? Just anyone?” The question tumbled out suddenly, genuine, raw. He looked away, as if bracing himself. This was bound to come up, sooner or later. “It’s like when you asked if I’d move away when you leave for college because, otherwise, I might not be here anymore,” you added, trying to ease the weight of your question. You were getting to know him better.

He nodded slowly, knowing he’d answer you honestly if you asked for it. If you wanted, he’d let you be like him. “I can,” he whispered, keeping it brief, not wanting to linger on the subject.

You hesitated, taking in the idea. He knew how much you suffered from chronic pain, how sometimes you just wanted relief, independence. And while he wouldn’t think twice about offering you this existence if you wanted it, he couldn’t shake a selfish feeling—the thought that, in giving you this choice, he’d be binding you to him and trapping you in your current form for eternity. Even so, he’d never refuse to help you if you needed him.

“So… it’s just a bite? And that’s it?” you asked, curiosity shining in your eyes without a trace of fear.

“Biting’s just for blood,” he clarified, his voice softening as he took a deep breath. “To turn someone, it takes a witness and making sure the person won't die, y’know?” He sighed, and you noticed, arching a brow.

“I thought you didn’t feel tired,” you teased, sensing his discomfort and wanting to lighten the moment.

“I don’t,” he said, brushing off the feeling with a small lie. You let it go, realizing you were also getting sleepy, even though he didn’t need sleep the way you did.

He’d once told you he’d been at this for around 300 years, adapting quickly but feeling his enthusiasm fade with time. He didn’t even remember who’d turned him, just that he’d woken one night alone, with the pain of transformation, figuring everything out by himself. That always made you think about your own fear of being alone, especially when pain flared up and made you feel trapped to someone.

“Can you… have kids?” you asked softly, eyes tracing the constellation of freckles on his nose.

“No,” he replied simply.

“I was going to say I’d have your kids if I knew they’d inherit that nose and those freckles, but I didn’t want to offend you or anything.” He chuckled, that familiar, comforting nasal laugh. Eli felt pain, but holding you like this made it melt away. He’d met thousands of people over the years, but you were the one who made him want his world to keep turning.

“Do you want kids?” he asked.

“No,” you said without hesitation. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to go through this just because of some unlucky genes.” He looked at you, an emotion in his eyes that made you wonder if he’d learned to mimic human reactions, replicating them when needed, though Eli had never done that with you.

“Would you have wanted them? If you were still… you know,” you asked.

He wrapped you both in the blanket, creating a cocoon. The light smell of cigarettes and mint gum surrounded you. His curls tickled your face, and you reached out to touch his lips with your fingers as he spoke, feeling the faint movement of his mouth. “I don’t know. I never thought about it when I was human, and now it doesn’t make much sense. Maybe I’d be happy, maybe I’d be sad if I’d had kids in a life that isn’t mine anymore. But I’ve stopped dwelling on what I can’t control.”

He said it with a calm acceptance that made you wonder just how long one had to live to reach that kind of peace. You liked living in the moment, but only when it was good. And you understood that Eli wasn’t always okay; he just knew how to deal with what life had given him.

“You don’t see a future with me, do you?” you whispered, voice thick with unshed tears. His arms tightened around you, but his silence broke something in you. Still, you reminded yourself to cherish the present because, as much as it hurt, you understood the complexities of it all.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his words soft and full of regret.

...

“Dear Jenkinson, this will be a brief update, yet a necessary one. I’ve bought a cellphone and shall be more present. I still prefer to avoid the daylight; perhaps it’s simply the desire to remain unseen. I enjoy a quiet life—or at least, that’s what I believed. Recently, I’ve noticed a girl at the café near my house, yes, the same place here in Dublin. She comes around midday, doing something on her little black screen, though that detail hardly matters. I simply like knowing she’s there, and that she’ll likely be there tomorrow. I don’t speak to her, and I don’t imagine I will. Is it wrong for me to want to be near her but not seen with her? I mean her no harm, yet my human bears little resemblance to me. I write to you in confidence, as I suspect you’ll advise me to approach her. In any case, it’s a curious feeling, waking with this small excitement, the uncertainty and hope that she’ll be there, sitting in her usual spot.”

You scanned the first letter; they were all unsealed, unhurried in their elegance, as if they weren’t truly hidden from you—yet he kept them private all the same. You didn’t recognize the name, “Jenkinson,” but something in the writing made you imagine an old friend of his. Strange that you hadn’t heard of any friends. He knew all about your life, perhaps because you were far more open than he was. A pang of guilt hit you for reading his words. You’d picked them up from the mailbox by accident, and now you’d leave them where you found them, pretending you hadn’t seen any. Still, a gnawing question lingered in your mind. Eli cared for you, and you’d told yourself you were fine with this arrangement, just living in the moment—but you wanted something more, didn’t you? Eli seemed so sure of what he wanted from the beginning. You’d hoped maybe he’d change, but could you truly resent him? He wrote such beautiful things about you, didn’t he?

Your pulse quickened as you ran your fingers over the heavy paper, catching another letter. “Dear Jenkinson, I had forgotten that humans suffer, not just from their own mental wanderings like us, but from very real, very physical pain. My human has a condition that keeps her days limited, wrapped in intense pain. I’ve been there for her, and you’ll understand the significance of that, won’t you? It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything like this. Anyway, she’s full of a light-heartedness you’d never picture me having. She deserves so much more, you’d like her, but I don’t intend for things to reach that point—” You felt a sting behind your eyes, frustration and a sense of discomfort flaring up. How could he be so dense, filling these white spaces with beautiful words about you while being so unthinking about the future? After all, he’d have a future, regardless of what happened. His nature was certain that there was a tomorrow.

“Dear Jenkinson, I would never hurt her, truly, nor do I feel any inclination to do so, yet there’s something in her calm, gentle scent, and the eyes that makes me wonder what it would be like to bite her. Am I a bad person for thinking this? I know what it’s like—the taste and the quiet satisfaction when it’s with someone we truly appreciate. I don’t think of it as feeding, but rather as a form of cultivation.”

It was sweet, kind of sexy, in its way, yet left you with a hollow ache. Eli had a life, a very long one, yet he’d never shared any of it with you—not his past loves, this friend, or why, of all places, he still stayed in Dublin. You wanted all of him, but a part of him wasn’t there to be yours, was it? The letters lacked dates, having only found their way back to him. Why were you committing yourself to something that felt like it had an expiration date?

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