#harry vampire au

[soranatus]

Talia & Bruce + Gothic/vampire au Edited from illustrations by Harry Borgman for Bram Stoker's Dracula (1974)

[viperify]

AU | ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ!ᴛᴏᴍ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⁺ ⚕₊ In His Fangs.

Short Summary: Curiosity killed the cat. Yet, you don’t really believe Tom Riddle is dead. Not when rumours spread he has returned as a vampire to claim the immortality he has always sought for…

Warnings: 18+ only! NONCON. blood kink, biting, branding, choking, creampie, clit play, degradation, forced orgasm, hair pulling, impact play, overstimulation, rough sex, slight cum play

A/N: I am scared of myself.

wordcount: 2,9k

Mind the warnings before reading. If you are not comfortable, feel free to scroll. <3

Curiosity killed the cat—or so they say.

Rumours caught your attention. Rumours that Tom Riddle—believed to be dead—had sacrificed everything to gain immortality, returning as a vampire.

People didn’t believe it. Nobody did. They were rumours after all, rumours someone spread deliberately—with the intention to scare the general public.

Tom Riddle, Voldemort—he was dead. Killed by the Ministry right before he could create his third Horcrux. Students, teachers, some of his followers—they all witnessed his death.

He would never return.

Never.

Right?

You tried to believe it.

For so long, you tried to forget the conversation you overheard in the Three Broomsticks. Just a drunk old man blabbering about an attack on his livestock—unusual really. The animal wasn’t killed for its flesh. But its body was completely drained of blood. Various detection spells showed no results, diagnostics failed. Until some old, wise witch found something—a vampire’s bite, hidden under dark, dark magic.

That’s how it all started.

And it fit too—the timeline was perfect. Weeks after Tom’s supposed death. Just a mere month after, more and more animals were killed in the exact same way, the bite always hidden by dark magic so it would be insanely difficult to discover and place. But never humans—no single human died. Which, in the end, calmed the public down. Rumours steadily disappearing from people’s conversations at the bar. Just another vampire, passing by the Scottish Highlands—feeding on animals—after all, feeding on humans, let alone killing them, was strictly forbidden by the Ministry.

But you felt it. There was more behind the story. Something that made you shudder each time you only looked in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.

And yet, you felt a strange pull towards it.

—

You have been restless for days. Total lunar eclipse, they say—better known as blood moon.

You can’t sleep. Can’t rest, can’t nap. The closer to a full moon, the worse it gets. To the point where you decide to go for a walk in the evening, to take your mind off things.

Originally, you didn’t intend to go into the forest, not really. But then, when you see a rare potion ingredient right at the edges of the woods—you rethink. After a brief moment of hesitation, you decide to collect it, putting it in a tote bag you have brought with you. As you look back up, you see it.

There are more, scattered around just a little further away—

Just a little deeper in the forest—

At some point, your bag is full. Potion ingredients that are so rare, if you sold your bag, you could probably afford a home for yourself.

You must have gotten really, really lucky, you think.

It’s getting darker and darker, the sun disappearing behind the horizon. You shudder when a chilly breeze brushes past you and finally decide to leave the forest.

Looking around you, you try to find the exit. This tree, that rock—you don’t exactly remember where you came from. But it couldn’t be that far.

Right?

You decide to turn around and just walk in a straight line, figuring that would be the fastest way to find the exit of the Forbidden Forest.

However, after 15 minutes of walking, you return to the same spot you left off at. There was no way you walked in a circle, but yet here you were—exactly where you started.

You try again.

Same outcome.

Your heartbeat races—you want to leave. It’s dark by now, and mindlessly wandering through the forest at night time, during a full moon, when there are possibly still vampires around—is not something you are keen on doing.

You shriek at a sudden movement, a soft crack of a branch somewhere behind you—but when you turn—there is nothing.

Then, a low growl to your left—

And your legs react faster than your brain. By the time you reach a small bush, somewhere to hide under, you are completely out of breath.

You listen intently for any strange sounds, try to control your breathing—when you see it.

A small hut, not far away.

Looking left and right, you slowly make your way towards the wooden structure, entering in one swift movement, closing the door behind you. For a moment you let yourself rest against the wall, inhaling deeply. It’s quite cold in here, the scent of mossy wood flooding your senses, the rough wood scraping against your arms. But it’s silent. Calm. Dark. And for the first time since you entered the forest—

Safety.

Or so you think.

“You came for me. I knew you would. Stupid, stupid girl.”

Your heart skips a beat, head turning in the direction of an all-too-familiar voice—

It’s too dark to make out more than a faint outline of the person next to you—besides their scarlet eyes directly burning down into yours.

His voice, his eyes, his height.

Tom Riddle. Now, a vampire.

One hand firmly wraps around your throat before you can even think about running, pushing you up against the wooden panelling. Squeezing tightly enough you can barely fucking breathe.

“Let— me go!” You rasp, the last bit of air left in your lungs wasted on words you know will do nothing to help your situation. Oh, no—not until he’s gotten what he’s wanted. What he has been after ever since he turned. Your blood. Only yours. Animals, in the meanwhile, merely acting as a substitution—he wanted you.

“Too late.” He says, fingers pressing down even harder on the side of your throat. “I have always thought you were a smart girl, but clearly I am mistaken. Falling for a trap this obvious.”

The last few words fade into a blur, your brain too deprived of oxygen to function. Just as your vision goes black at the edges, his hand leaves your throat. Without him firmly pressing you against the wall, your knees give in, having you drop to the floor, gasping for air.

He doesn’t wait for you to recover—instantly bending down, grabbing a fistful of your hair just to forcefully yank your head backwards. Forcing you to look into his eyes again.

“So the rumours are true,” you whisper, trying to back up—but his grip is too strong. “It was you all along.”

He merely grants you a nod. “It was the only way. I wanted to avenge myself—wanted to find the someone whose fault this all is.”

His expression is unreadable as he looks down at you—a brief flash behind his eyes—almost predatory.

Your breath catches in your throat. Fuck.

“Quite curious, isn’t it? The very person that found out about my plans, getting me murdered in consequence—is the one’s blood I crave most.”

And then he smirks, subtle but dangerous. The red moon, now at its highest on the pitch-black horizon, casts a shadow on his sharp features through the window.

“Tom, I didn’t—“

His palm comes down on your cheek. Hard.

“If you want to live, you should act accordingly. No more lies. You will obey my every command. And I might just let you leave afterwards.” He says, thumb softly wiping over where he struck you. “If you are a very, very good girl, that is.”

You swallow. He set up a trap, and you walked into it, thanking him even. Served yourself on a silver plate. You curse yourself for it.

Tears well up in your eyes. “I will do anything you ask. Please just don’t— kill me.”

His eyes glow at your response. Just how he’s wanted you. Pliant. Obedient. Helpless.

He’d taken in your unique scent from miles away. He’d felt the racing heartbeat in your chest—pumping your sweet, sweet blood through your body as you panicked while looking for an exit. Tom merely had to wait for sunset to get to you then.

Back at Hogwarts he secretly admired you for your intelligence—though you were never smarter than him, not even now.

“Anything, you say?” He purrs, pulling you to your feet by your hair, so you are mere inches from his face. He still looks the same as he did in school. This beautiful, dark hair, sharp jawline, perfect height. You nod, carefully.

“Strip.”

His voice is rough, demanding—not giving you any space or option to complain. You can’t say no, and you know it. You try to keep your breathing steady—however, when you feel his gaze dropping, hand coming to rest on your neck, thumb deliberately caressing along your most prominent neck vein—you can’t help but inhale sharply, followed by a shaky whimper.

“We are alone in this forest, just you and me.” He drawls, pressing down on your pulse point, brows furrowing as he feels your heightened heartbeat under his finger. You are warm. So deliciously warm, he thinks.

His hot breath ghosts over your cheek as he leans in closer—dangerously close. Uncomfortably close. “I could drain you right here. And nobody would notice.”

That’s it. Any sane thoughts are ripped from your mind, and you start sobbing.

“Shhh.” He soothes, a condescending grin decorating his face, the rough pad of his thumb wiping a freshly spilled tear from your cheek. “I am not going to hurt you. Not more than necessary.”

You nod again, wiping a tear from your face.

“Now do as I said. When you are done, bend over the table.”

With a flick of his fingers a few candles light up, illuminating your body as you undress piece by piece. All while he watches you intently, hungry eyes roaming over your bare skin.

You take a deep breath before you turn around, bending over said table in the middle of the small room, the rough edge digging into your hip bones.

The sound of his clothes dropping to the floor is the only thing that breaks the silence between the both you, and a mere minute later, he’s behind you. Cock pressing against your thigh, hard and heavy—a bead of precum leaking from the tip. But he waits, lingers there—thumb trailing along your spine—hand coming to a rest on your hip before two of his fingers push inside, working you open for him. You gasp at the feeling—hips meeting his thrusts.

Tom instantly halts inside of you, other hand smacking your ass so hard it must tingle on his own skin.

“This is supposed to be a punishment. Yet here you are, bucking your hips like a whore. Stop that.”

His words sting. But he isn’t wrong—not entirely. As messed up as the situation is, you can’t help but whimper at his touch—how he already knows every single spot that makes you whine and moan. You hate him, you really do—but Merlin— there is something about him like this that makes heat pool in your lower stomach—and as much as you want to deny it, you can’t.

And he notices, of course he does. Quickly withdrawing his fingers, turning you around and helping you up on the table, immediately pushing you down on it. His hand wraps around his cock, stroking himself before he swipes through your soaked folds once, twice, maybe three times—groaning as your arousal coats the head of his cock—and then he pushes inside. Not slowly. Not carefully. No time to adjust. No stopping—never stopping. Until he is fully hilted inside you.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream—the stretch close to unbearable—but he doesn’t grant you much time to think about it. One second later he’s already moving, hips snapping against yours—so hard it has your body moving up the table, and he has to pull you back down.

And then, with one swift movement, his head dips, breath hot against your skin before his tongue laps over your pulse point. Slowly, teasingly, until your breathing slows—and then, without further warning, his fangs sink deep into the flesh of your exposed neck. Blood wells from the wound, dripping down your chest, drying on your skin.

The pain is sharp, blinding—you want to scream, cry—but the sound gets caught in your throat. It’s not until a few seconds later that the sting eases—replaced by something almost pleasurable—something that eases the burning ache between your legs. Suddenly you feel the heat of his bite coursing through you—and what it’s doing to you is on the verge of embarrassing. It makes you want him—want him like you have never wanted anyone else before.

“Already loosening up for me. All it takes is a bite.” He drawls against your skin, crimson staining his lips. His grip on your waist tightens, preventing you from moving up the surface of the table as he thrusts harder, deeper.

You breathe shakily as he continues feeding on you, all while mercilessly pushing into you—hitting all the right spots, too. It’s all too much. His bite, the blood loss, the way he splits you apart so perfectly. Soft whimpers spill over your lips as your mind grows hazy—maybe from his fangs sunken deep in your neck, though more likely from your quickly building orgasm.

You don’t want to give it to him. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

But he knows, he knows what you are capable of—what he makes you feel. What he will make you feel.

Tom continues feeding until he’s satisfied, groaning, sighing against your neck—continues draining you until you are on the verge of passing out.

You are so, so close. So close to shattering around him. You shake your head no, tears welling up as he meets your eyes, feeling your walls flutter around him.

And he—merely grins.

“So close, aren’t you? Trying to keep it from me, I see. But that’s not how we play, sweetheart.”

His hand travels down your body, thumb finding your swollen, aching clit. Rubbing tight, delicious circles until your hips buck and tears stream freely down your cheeks. Until your voice is hoarse from whining and moaning. Until you can’t hold it anymore, and you finally, finally let go around him. His hand wraps around your throat as your walls clamp down tightly around him, as your mind is stripped of the last bits of sanity you had left. Thighs trembling violently around him as your orgasm hits you like a freight train. And you can do nothing but take it.

“Fuck— squeezing me like a vice. Going to ruin you. Ruin you for everyone else.”

And with that, his hips stutter against yours, a low groan falling over his lips as he thrusts all the way in, brushing against your cervix one last time before he spills deep inside of you, coating your walls with his release. But he isn’t done—doesn’t stop thrusting, forcing his cum deeper, not until you are whining in overstimulation.

“Please, no more, Tom— can’t take it.” You whimper, hand closing around his wrist.

“Oh, but you can, and will. You will take it until I am satisfied, and you aren’t leaving a second earlier.”

He keeps going until you are limp beneath him, so full of him you’ll be dripping for days to come. Keeps going until he is satisfied, until he’s wrung out every last drop of pleasure from your body.

Because after all, you agreed to it.

Anything, you said. Anything so he would let you live.

Anything.

Right?

Only when your sobs fade, exhaustion taking over, does he pull out, slowly, making you feel every inch of him.

He helps you up then, hands now carrying a subtle gentleness to them. Tom holds your head in place as he inspects your wounds, kisses your tears away. His eyes too have softened, the once scarlet red irises now a darker shade of red, almost brown.

“You did well. Took me like a good girl until the end. I reckon you have earned your life.”

He’s used you. Fed on you. Nearly broken you. Bitten you in a way you’d stay pliant for him.

You dress yourself. Still sobbing, fresh tears staining your cheeks. You don’t look back as you walk to the door to leave.

But before you get to do so, a hiss slips out instead—a sudden, burning pain radiating from right under your collarbone.

Looking down, you see three bright red letters appearing on your skin, drops of blood spilling from them.

T M R

“What the—“ you gasp, softly wiping the blood away before you look back up, meeting Tom’s expression—closed, with a hint of pride. He takes a step closer, gaze fixated on his work on your skin.

“Means you are mine.” He explains, reaching out to wipe over the letters, earning a sharp hiss from you.

“Means I will find you. Anywhere. In every last secluded part of this world, I will always find you. Because you are now bound to me. Bound by blood. You are mine, until death does us part.”

Horror washes over you at the realization.

“And I am certain a smart girl like you knows— a vampire lives forever.”

part two.

thank you for reading! feel free to reblog and leave feedback <3 — masterlist. | AUs.

©2025 viperify. please do not copy, translate or claim my work as your own.

a huge thank you to my sweet girl @juliet-017 for listening to me yap and complain about this fic - just for me to come up with a whole new plot anyway.

[garforarts]

Happy late Halloween 🧛🏻

[harrywavycurly]

Can you do that for me?: A Vampire!Harry Blurb✨

CW: Mentions of blood (your man is a vamp), minor language, smut (fingering and oral f receiving)

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: This is just a fun little blurb inspired by this post, I’ve never written anything for vampire Harry so this was very fun and a little silly, hope y’all enjoy✨

Summary: Your vampire boyfriend just wants you to drink some water✨

“That’s not what I said.” Harry’s voice is his usual velvety softy, no hints of annoyance or teasing as he leans against the doorway of your outdoor balcony. The corners of his mouth twitch, forcing him to fight off a smile as you let out an exaggerated huff from your spot on the chair you’re lounging in with a book in your lap.

“That’s exactly what you said.” You argue as you reach over and place your book on the table next to your chair. “You said you don’t like how I taste anymore and that’s rude.” This has Harry crossing his arms over his chest as he readies himself for the small rant he knows is coming based on the way you stand up, throwing the soft blanket you had over your legs back onto the chair.

“You said I taste gross and honestly I’m not sure how I’m supposed to take that because if I’m so disgusting then why don’t you just go drink someone else for a while you actual asshole.” Your voice is full of emotion as you stand there with a hand on your hip while the other is gesturing behind you, the moonlight glistening off the roofs of your neighboring houses.

“Baby.” Harry says with a smile that has you wanting to smack him as he pushes off the doorframe and takes a step towards you. “All I said was I can tell you haven’t been drinking enough water.” You cross your arms over your chest as he reaches out and places a hand on the side of your face.

“And you can tell that because?”

“Because you just taste a little off.” He explains as his thumb rubs across your cheekbone, his eyes traveling from the slight pout your mouth is making up to your eyes.

“Well if I taste off why don’t you just go-”

“Don’t.” His eyes intensely stare into yours as his hand moves down to the side of your neck. “Don’t say it again please.” The emotion in his voice has your hands falling down to your sides, not wanting to hurt him with your words you just close your mouth making him let out a small sigh. “I don’t want anyone else but you-I can’t have anyone else but you my love.” He increases the pressure his hand has on the side of your neck ever so slightly as he leans in so his lips brush against your cheek. “I just want you to be healthy and take care of yourself that’s all.” He says softly before pressing his lips to your forehead, he smiles when he pulls away because he feels your pulse quicken as you subtly lean towards him as if he’s a magnet drawing you closer to him.

“Water is so-blah tasting I don’t like it.” You mumble feeling silly as your hands reach up and land on his chest over the crisp white dress shirt having come from a meeting of some sort before coming to see you.

“I understand that sweetheart but it’s good for you and well-you’re a bit cranky when you’re dehydrated and you know it pains me when you’re anything but happy.” His other hand rests on your hip, his thumb slipping under the hem of your t shirt rubbing your smooth skin right above the waistband of your shorts.

“So you’re in pain right now?” You question while Harry moves his lips down to your temple.

“If I say yes will you drink some water for me?”

“If I drink some water will you tell me why you can’t drink from anyone else besides me?” Harry cracks a smile at your attempt to negotiate with him as he pulls back some so he can get a good look at your face.

“Yes.” He answers making you smile, your arms wrap around his neck pulling him closer so you can place a kiss to his lips.

“Okay I’ll drink a glass of water then.” He lets out a chuckle when you pull away, he releases his hold on your neck and hip but before he turns around to grab you a glass of water he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss that has you practically falling back into the chair you were just sitting in, his hands steady you as he pulls away with a smirk.

“I’ll be right back.” You just let out a hum in response as you try to catch your breath. Before you can even blink more than a few times Harry is crouched down in front of you placing a glass of water with a bendy straw on the table next to your chair, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows letting the ink on his arms to be visible.

“I’ll start when you start love.” His eyes dart to the glass as his hands rest on the tops of your thighs. You look over and grab the glass, bringing the straw to your lips and only making a face of slight disgust as you begin to take a few sips. “You want to know why I can’t have anyone but you?” The deepness and smoothness of his voice sends a small shiver down your spine as his eyes intently watch you to make sure you’re still taking sips of the water.

“Yes please.” You answer only momentarily letting the straw fall from between your lips. Harry smiles as he leans down and presses his lips to the top of your knee.

“Because nothing and no one compares to you.” He begins to explain as his hands slowly slide higher up your thighs, eyes never leaving your face. “You’re the reason I exist-the light and love of my eternal life and I can’t have anyone but you because there’s no point. There’s only one you and you’re all I crave.” You swallow a large gulp of water as Harry’s hands reach the bottom of your shorts, his breath is warm against the inside of your thigh as he lightly presses his lips against your soft skin.

Harry watches you take a few more slow sips as his hands gently grip the waistband of your shorts, he quirks a brow and when you just nod he smiles as you lift your hips a bit to help him slide your shorts and panties down your legs. You watch them get tossed to the side as he works your thighs open a bit more so he can settle himself between them, he chuckles when you let out a startled squeak when he slides you closer to the edge of the seat making sure you’re still sitting up so you can comfortably drink your water.

“Keep drinking your water. Can you do that for me?” You just nod making him smile against your skin as his lips travels up the inside of your thigh. “Because if you stop I stop.” He warns as his eyes travel down from your face to your neck, all the way down your chest until they land on your glistening core.

He feels a low growl bubble deep in his chest as he takes a deep inhale through his nose, loving the way you smell when he has you a flustered mess. He doesn’t give you any warning before his warm tongue is licking a stripe up your wet center, the tip of it flicking your clit making your grip on the water glass tighten. Harry looks up at you as he dives his tongue into your soaked core, your face contorts into one of pure pleasure as you drop a hand from holding the cup to grip the armrest of your chair as he swirls his tongue inside your wetness.

“So sweet baby.” He moans as he slides his hand up and dips his index and middle finger into your tight cunt. You almost drop the glass when his tongue flicks your clit while his fingers pump into you at a quick and determined pace. “Keep going.” His voice is thick and demanding as he looks down at the glass and sees it’s almost empty. You practically slam the glass down on the table once it’s empty, your hand now free to tangle into Harry’s curls making him groan when he feels you give it a tug.

“Oh-oh yes.” Your back arches as Harry’s fingers quicken their pace, his lips traveling to your hip and gently giving you a small nip making a moan fall from your mouth.

“That’s better.” He mumbles against your skin, his tongue swiping up the small droplets of blood he got from the tiny bite on your hip, just needing a little taste of you.

“Harry.” Your voice is strained as your hips grind down to meet the pace of his fingers, he increases the pressure on your clit as he curves his fingers as he pumps them inside of you making.

“I’m here my love you just have to let go for me.” He whispers as his lips travel down to your inner thigh, he feels your walls clenching around his fingers making him groan at the feeling. “That’s it baby-doing so good.” He encourages gently as his fingers thrust into you deeper making you lean your head back and grab both armrests as you feel the pressure building in your lower tummy.

“Oh don’t stop-oh god please don’t stop.” You cry out making Harry smile as he continues to fuck his fingers into your tight pussy.

When he feels your walls clench and pulse around his thick digits he is quick to pull them out so he can lap up your release with his tongue. You chant his name and a few incoherent words as your climax hits you like a tidal wave, Harry moans as his tongue slips into your soaked center licking you through it. He takes extra care to not let a single drop of your release to go to waste.

“You did so good baby.” He praises as his hands rest on the tops of your knees, giving them gentle strokes with his thumbs. “I swear you’re the closest to heaven I’m ever going to get.” You let out a breathy laugh as he stands up, his hands gripping the back of your chair as his eyes stare into yours and in that moment you see nothing but love making your cheeks get warm at how intensely you can feel the emotion radiating off of him.

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Says my lovely girlfriend who threw a hissy fit over me suggesting she drink more water?” You roll your eyes as Harry leans down and places his lips to the side of your neck.

“What do I get if I drink another glass?” Harry laughs, his breath warm against your skin as his lips travel up to your jaw until finally landing on your lips for a sweet kiss.

“Anything you want.”

[riddlesrizzler]

Over and Over Again

summary: I will fall in love with you, over and over again. No matter how long its been. characters: vampire! mattheo. reader warnings: mentions of death, blood, violence. word count: 1.5k

The moon hung low in the sky, its pale light casting a soft glow across the city. Mattheo leaned against the window, watching as the world continued on, indifferent to his existence. He had been alive for centuries, a vampire whose experiences spanned countless lifetimes, and yet, each passing day seemed the same. People came and went. Emotions, desires, loves, losses-they were all fleeting, like shadows in the night.

He had watched it all, experienced it all. Lovers who grew old and faded, friends who became strangers, and places that, no matter how often he returned, felt less and less like home. And through it all, he had remained the same. A figure untouched by time, a man who could never truly die, but could only watch as everything else crumbled away.

Yet, when he had met you, everything changed.

At first, it was nothing more than a passing curiosity. The way your laugh echoed in his mind long after you were gone. The way your touch lingered like a warmth that hadn’t been there before. Your voice, so familiar, so soft, as though he had heard it a thousand times before. He brushed it aside, attributing it to the pull of something unknown, something he could not name. But the more time he spent with you, the more undeniable it became. There was something in you-a presence, a pull that had always been there, just beneath the surface.

It wasn’t until the days bled into weeks, and weeks into months, that he started to see it. The similarities. The connection. The way your eyes would flash when you laughed, a kind of intensity that reminded him of another, of someone from another life-another form.

He was drowning in memories of you-but were close-but not this version of you. Not in this body. In other lifetimes. Other forms.

The first time he truly remembered was the 1830s. You had been a young woman living at the edge of a sleepy village, your hands always stained with ink and flowers. He had caught you in a field one afternoon, scribbling into a leather-bound journal, curls escaping your bonnet as the wind played with your skirts. You had looked up at him like you knew him. Like something ancient inside you recognized something ancient in him.

He didn’t speak to you then. He had been too afraid-of what he was, of what he wanted, of what he could do. And by the time he found the courage, you were gone. Taken by fever before your twentieth year.

The ache of that loss had lingered like smoke in his lungs.

Then in 1910. A boy this time. Mattheo had watched him recite poetry in a crumbling café on the riverbank. His voice was soft, but his words held weight-lines about stars and longing and a love that stretched across oceans of time. He had stared at Mattheo across the crowd like he was reading straight from his soul. And Mattheo knew. It was you again.

That boy had died in war. Buried beneath blood and mud and silence.

Then came the 1950s. A jazz singer in a smoky club downtown, barefoot behind the mic, a cigarette always in hand. Your laughter had been reckless, beautiful, wild. You had looked at Mattheo like he was a melody you couldn’t stop humming. He had almost turned you then. Almost reached for you in the alley after your last set, drunk on your scent, on your voice, on the echo of lives past.

But he hadn’t.

And once again, you were gone.

Every time your soul returned, Mattheo felt it like a ripple in the air, a pull in his chest. Something old, deep, and unrelenting. You never remembered him-not in the way he remembered you. But there was always something in your eyes. A flicker. A tilt of the head. The way you leaned in closer without knowing why. He’d told himself over and over that he should stay away. That this was some kind of cosmic curse. But he couldn’t.

And now, in this lifetime, you were here again. And he was so, so tired of losing you.

One evening, as the city beneath him slept, Mattheo found himself standing at the window, watching the soft glow of the streetlights below. His thoughts were tangled in the whirlwind of memories-his past, your presence, and everything in between. You had become more than just a part of his life; you were the missing piece, the one he had been searching for through all the years, the one who would return to him, no matter the form, no matter the body.

He felt you before you even entered the room. The faintest stir in the air, the softest footsteps against the floor. And then, there you were-standing in the doorway, looking at him with those same eyes that had haunted him for centuries.

“You’ve been distant lately. What’s wrong?”

Your voice was soft, careful. The same voice that had asked him to dance barefoot on the cobblestones in 1832. The same voice that had whispered, “I think I loved you before I even knew what love was,” in 1910. The same voice that had sung jazz under her breath in 1957.

Mattheo turned, his dark eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, he allowed himself to breathe you in-the scent of your skin, the warmth of your presence. It was a comfort he had forgotten, the feeling of something that felt like home. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words stuck in his throat, the weight of the truth pressing against him. How could he explain this? How could he explain that you were his, and he was yours, that no matter how many lifetimes had passed, no matter how many centuries separated you, your souls had always been bound together?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice raw. “I’ve been thinking... about us. About everything.”

You walked closer to him, your eyes never leaving his, and placed your hand gently on his chest, where his heart should be. It pounded, though it hadn’t in centuries.

“What about us?” you asked softly.

He stared at you, feeling the pull of something deep within, something ancient and eternal. He reached out, cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing across your skin. “I’ve known you before,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, as though speaking the truth aloud might break something fragile. “Not like this, not in this life, but in others. You’ve always been there. Always.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and you searched his face, looking for something-an explanation, a sign, anything that could make sense of the storm in his gaze. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, as if summoning the courage to speak the truth. “I mean that your soul... I’ve known it for centuries. I’ve seen it take different forms, different lives, but it’s always you. Always. No matter where or when, your soul finds its way back to mine. Every time.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, it felt as though the room itself had frozen. His past, his endless years of waiting, stretched out before him like an ocean of memories, and you were the lighthouse that had always called him home. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, feeling the familiar warmth of your presence.

“I don’t want to lose you again,” he murmured. “I can’t bear it. Every lifetime, every moment, I’ve always known that you would find me. That we would find each other again.”

He kissed you then, a kiss that felt as though it was drawing upon all the years they had spent apart, the centuries of pain and yearning. And as their lips met, the world seemed to blur around them, time itself suspended in that single, perfect moment.

“I will always fall in love with you,” Mattheo whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his lips brushing softly against yours. “Over and over again. No matter how many lives we live, no matter how long it’s been, you’re mine.”

You closed your eyes, the truth of his words sinking into your heart like a seed taking root. You had known him before, in ways you couldn’t explain, in ways you couldn’t understand. And no matter what form your soul took, you would always find your way back to him. Always.

His voice full of love and certainty. “You always come back to me. Always.”

You smiled through the tears that threatened to spill, your hands reaching up to caress his face. “I’ll always be yours, Mattheo,” you whispered, your voice breaking with the weight of everything you were feeling. “I’ll always find my way back to you.”

And in that moment, as he kissed you once more, you both knew that this love, this bond, would never be broken. Not by time, not by life, not by death. You were his, and he was yours, forever.

[julysalad]

My Big List Of Underappreciated Tomarrymort Works On AO3.

❗This list is based solely on my own fanfiction preferences. I think all fanfiction deserves to be read and known, even if I, personally, don't include it in this list❗

As a very picky reader, I'm usually left dissatisfied with the portrayal of characters or quality of the plot even in works that have many kudos and bookmarks. I often find my attention straying from the text, even if I was interested in a work after reading summary or first chapters.

So, in this list of recommendations I will include fanfiction that, in my opinion, deserves more readers and recognition. And that is the reason why I'm setting the bar at works that have less than 5000 kudos on AO3.

I'm also not adding fanfics that fall under Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot tag on AO3 here. Firstly, because I've never seen anyone read their porn based on anyone's fic recommendations 🤷🏼‍♀️. Secondly, because I don't find myself lacking high-quality, well-written tomarrymort porn.

Works will be placed in no particular order.

More Precious than Rubies by Strange_Soulmates (T, 44K, 6/6)

Harry Potter has recently escaped from his dragon-guarded tower. So has his fellow prisoner - the dragon who was enchanted to guard him. Harry's friend is missing, however, and so he sets off to assure himself of his well-being before he finds the person responsible for imprisoning them both. Accompanied by a stranger with a familiar name, Harry finds himself with more questions than answers as he slowly learns about the customs of dragons and the history of the dragon he befriended, the fearsome Voldemort.

Fantasy AU. One of the first tomarrymort fics I've ever read and instantly loved. Very fluffy and tender work, no hurt only comfort. Harry and Tom | Voldemort are just really sweet together in this one.

The Nature of Mating by Strange_Soulmates (E, 22K, 6/6)

Ron and Hermione have spent the last year searching for their missing friend, Harry Potter. Just when they think they have finally found an answer, they're swept away themselves.

Harry Potter is tired of waiting for Tom to finish making a move, and is determined to take the last steps of their courtship himself if that's what it takes.

Voldemort? Voldemort just wishes his little pest had better taste in treasure.

Sequel to More Precious than Rubies. If you loved the first part, you'll probably love the second.

Mary Magdalene by @vashhanamichi (E, 17K, 4/?)

Based on a prompt for the Daddymort fest: when Harry tries to destroy four of Voldemort's seven Horcruxes they turn into babies instead and latch on to Harry like ducklings.

or:

SCANDAL! Young Mother Of Four Claims Dark Lord Hasn't Been Paying Child Support

The summary is self-explanatory in this one. Very enticing, very sensual work with dark themes. Mind the tags. Even though it hasn't been updated in a while I really hope it will be continued 🙏

Those Made of Lightning and Blood by A_Single_Cactus (E, 53K, 5/5)

A story in which Harry believes his soulmate bond is unreciprocated. Voldemort is his soulmate, but he's not Vodemort's. What he doesn't realize is that he's meant to speak his first words to Voldemort in a different time, not in front of the Mirror of Erised.

Time-travelling Harry AU + Soulmates AU. Falls under Tom Riddle Is His Own Warning tag (like most of the works in this list, to be honest). I really love the author's style in writing, the fanfic is a very easy read (I read it in one go).

The Reverent Son by A_Single_Cactus (E, 9K, 1/1)

When Harry decided to raise Tom Riddle as his son, he never could've imagined, one day, that the demon would want him. He never could've imagined his child growing to be a monster.

Lord, save him.

Church AU with demon!Tom. Mind the tags. Another work by the author of Those Made of Lightning and Blood. This fanfic comes close to Porn Without Plot category, but I still decided to include it because I really like this author's style.

In Your Soul is Sealed a Pleasure by mosiva (E, 22K, 2/2)

“So confident,” Voldemort murmured, “to be waiting here alone, this late at night.” He let a little menace seep into his tone.

The man merely smiled in return, cocky. “Oh, is this a bad area?” he said. “I hadn’t realised, what with the lack of streetlights and the not-so-distant screams. Silly me.”

Harry’s been sent back in time, but he’s still not worked out what it is about this specific moment that gives him the best chance to change things for the better. All he’s managed to do so far is talk to an oddly intense man in an alley and try not to get mugged.

Time-travelling Harry AU. The times of the First Wizarding War, with obsessive Voldemort and funny, charming, witty Harry.

A Light That Never Goes Out by @kippipies (M, 108K, 13/?)

Harry steals from the wrong people and finds himself left for dead with a bullet in his skull.

Except he doesn't die.

And now, he has an infamous criminal organization called the Death Eaters hot on his tail, determined to correct that mistake. Even worse, the group is led by a deranged kingpin named Voldemort, who seems to think trying to kill Harry is the best fun he's had in years.

Mafia | Mob boss AU. I've never thought I would enjoy a non-magical Harry Potter AU, because, for me, the whole point of Harry Potter is it's a magical world and a very important part of both Harry and Tom's characters. So if you're sceptical, like me, please give it a try – I promise you won't regret it. No "big strong alpha mafia boss falls in love with tiny little weak omega at first sight" in this one. An incredible story of slowly progressing obsession. The work is regularly updated.

One of my most favorite works.

What quickens me is the violence in thee by @i-dream-of-libraries (M, 16K, 6/6)

Harry is sold at auction to a man who is clearly in some kind of disguise - Lord Riddle isn't as charming as he looks, and the way he looks at Harry...

A bit of guilty pleasure fanfic for me. I just love works with dark obsessive Tom | Voldemort and a bit of old fanfic tropes...

Saving the World, One Blowjob at a Time by NixandShit (E, 13K, 1/2)

Harry goes back in time to stop everyone from dying and ends up in a weird Slytherin hierarchy and saving the world by distracting the future dark lord with sex.

Time-travelling Harry AU. This work also comes close to Porn Without Plot category, but, just like with "The Reverent Son", it has plot and I just reeeeally love the author's style in writing. So yes, I'm including it.

And the Living Will Envy the Dead by @k-s-morgan (M, 114K, 6/23)

When Harry looks at Tom, he feels overwhelmed. There is a spark that makes him hopeful, the fear that nothing he does will save Tom from himself, and the horror at what his lies might lead to.

When Tom looks at Harry, he feels nothing. Until he does, and then Harry’s world starts drowning in blood.

Time-travelling Harry AU. The work by the author of "What He Grows To Be", one of the most popular tomarrymort works on AO3 (the amount of kudos is completely deserved). The author's style is incredible, the portrayal of characters is immaculate, the plot and plot twists are one of the most well-written I've ever seen! The fanfic isn't finished, but please support the author and read it anyway!

One of my most favorite works.

Extenuating Circumstances by Origin_Of_Symmetry (M, 87K, 2/2)

“You’re really quite a delight, Harry. I can’t believe I went weeks thinking you were useless and boring.”

Somehow, unwittingly, Harry finds himself engaged to Tom Riddle.

He’s not entirely sure how that happened.

Time-travelling Harry AU. A work full of funny scenes, smart dialogue and entertaining plot! The progress of Harry and Tom's relationship is portrayed realistically, and this is one of the most important things I value in fanfics.

The Sense of Self by SpitFire97 (E, 87K, 7/7)

This is the story of Death entrapping Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort in a series of reincarnations to undo the chaos the two of them have collectively caused. It’s a story of how two adversaries tangled in fate are forced to learn about themselves and through that, about the other; of them trying to work together for a change - if only, to pursue their individual goals.

Time-travelling Harry AND Tom | Voldemort AU. The character portrayal, the plot, the relationship between Harry and Voldemort – everything is portrayed perfectly in this work. I don't usually read works that have Death as a sentient being in them, because I usually find it frustrating when Death treats Harry Potter as someone special, almost bowing to him, and sends him back in time. So if you're, like me, wary of reading such fics – rest assured that this won't be a problem in this work. Harry's MoD!status doesn't make him overpowered – he's just as powerless as Voldemort, both of them being puppets in Death's hands.

One of my most favorite works.

Yule Ball by @holaolla1 (E, 5K, 1/1)

“How do you find our first dance, Professor?” the Slytherin's voice snapped Harry out of his thoughts bringing him back to the harsh reality. He looked skeptically over to Riddle's face, a sly smile playing on the latter’s lips.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Do you think we'll ever have another?”

“I’m sure we will,” Riddle’s smile grew wider. Harry huffed deciding not to comment. After all, if one ignores the problem long enough, the problem will eventually disappear on its own.

Professor/Student AU. A short, well-written work.

Vicious Circle by Bakuko, cyberslut404, kewpiekewpie (E, 194K, 37/?)

Harry and Hermione are transported back in time, while Tom Riddle begins his first year at Hogwarts.

Time-travelling Harry AND Hermione AU + Professor/Student AU. The work is regularly updated. I really love the plot and author's style.

One of my most favorite works.

Kisses Cursed by The_Fictionist (NR, 49K, 13/13)

Fairytale AU. Loosely inspired by Beauty and the Beast.

Some said he was once a man, cursed, and some that he sold his soul to demons and became one in turn. Others said that such evil as he could never have been human. That he was instead a nightmare, left lingering upon the earth a very long time ago.

Harry just knew it wasn't safe to walk near the Riddle House after dark.

Incredible. Just incredible. I have no other words for this masterpiece. I stayed up until 6 AM because I just couldn't put my phone down until I finished this work. This fanfic deserves to be published as a Harry Potter fan-book. The author of this work became a professional writer and, let's just say, I can see why.

One of my most favorite works.

The Devil's Playground by The_Fictionist (NR, 26K, 3/3)

AU. The Devil's Playground was the most exclusive nightclub in London, if not all of Europe. So, frankly, Harry wasn't entirely sure how he came to be bathed in its flawlessly concocted ambiance, with music pounding in his ears and an entirely delicious drink cold against his palm. But it had something to do with the deaths.

Supernatural AU. The work by the author of "Kisses Cursed" .

The Closing Of The Year by kcstories (T, 4K, 1/1)

After his divorce, Harry Potter moves in with Tom Riddle. So does his ten-year-old son Albus Severus, who tries his utmost to get used to his new surroundings and to the strange, sinister man his dad has fallen in love with.

A very fluffy, comforting work featuring post-war Harry, Tom | Voldemort and Albus Severus. I really like the budding relationship between Tom and Albus, love for Harry being a bonding point for them. All three of them are just so sweet together.

Enthralled by @obsidianpen (M, 5K, 1/1)

“Do you know what it is like, to be bitten by a vampire?”

Vampire AU. A work by the author of "No Glory", one of the most popular tomarrymort works on AO3 (and one of my most favorite fics). Very sensual, enticing and hot work.

Dulce Et Decorum Est Mori by beetaker (E, 134K, 10/10)

“Do you think he meant it?” Harry asked, once the professor was gone, tracing the gilded lettering of his own name on the letter he'd given Harry. “We're really Wizards?”

“It makes sense,” Tom shrugged, though he could hardly look away from his own letter, the proof of what he'd always known, in some pit inside himself, that he was something different from everyone around him, that he was something better. He'd believed the first priest that had told him the same thing, albeit it opposite in nature, that he was a devil. It had made sense at the time, just as this answer did. Anything that offered an explanation for his being set so apart.

“I'm glad it's both of us,” Harry said, green eyes somehow greener, the natural brightness in him turning incandescent. Tom had thought he'd known the answer for that before too, dull hours at Sunday service spent gazing at the sun illuminating stained glass portraits, thinking: angel. “I'm glad we're going together.”

“We'll always go together,” Tom said, knowing it as fact, unable to imagine anything different. Wherever he went, Harry was sure to follow. It'd been that way forever. It would surely always be that way.

Time-travelling Harry AU + Tom and Harry Grow Up Together AU. This story is Tom Riddle's POV and it's very well-written, it's an amazing study of his character, his sociopathy, his relationship with Harry. The great character portrayal+great plot combo I'm always looking for in tomarrymort work is present here. Please go read it, it has awfully little attention!

One of my most favorite works.

Keep Your Enemies Closer by @duplicitywrites (T, 3K, 1/1)

"Evans does have quite the... physical advantage," says Avery.

"We saw him tackle that enormous Hufflepuff beater during the last match," comments Lestrange. "He's mad."

"Do you think he could lift you, Tom?" asks Nott.

"Shut up, all of you," Tom says, but it's too late. He's thinking about it.

Time-travelling Harry AU. Funny, comforting work with Tom Riddle Outsmarting Himself ™.

The Marry-Harry Incident by Anna_Hopkins (G, 3K, 1/1)

"Why, is that an engagement ring you're buying, Harry? Who's the lucky witch or wizard, hm?"

Harry... panicked. "...You. It's for you."

Or: When Voldemort shows up at a Muggle department store, Harry blurts out the first explanation that comes to mind.

A funny, humorous and comforting work.

The Heir de la Mort by @rowena-rain (E, 82K, 18/?)

When Voldemort hits Harry with the Killing Curse in the Forbidden Forest, it fails yet again. Only this time, the problem is that instead of ending a life, it creates one.

“Harry Potter,” he says softly, tasting his prophesied killer’s loathsome name on his tongue. “The Boy Who Lived.” Come to die.

A pause. And then, he utters the fateful words. “Avada Kedavra.”

First, everything goes green.

Then, everything goes black.

When the Dark Lord regains consciousness, he hears before he sees, and the first thing he hears is crying. Why is there a baby crying?

Child fic, but not a fluffy, no hurt only comfort work – it has dark themes, as Voldemort is not exactly what one might call a great parent. However, the work is well-written, I like the plot and Voldemort is slowly changing as the time passes. I highly recommend this work.

In the Shadows by orphan_account (M, 5K, 1/1)

For so many years Harry had been running. Hiding. Hoping that Tom had simply forgotten him. Or, thinking that Harry was just a beta, had decided to chase someone else.

He should have known better.

Living close to knockturn alley.

Even the shadows all have eyes.

Omegaverse AU. Another guilty-pleasure fic for me, as Harry in this one is kind of damsel in distress, but sometimes I just want to read something that is predictable in a good way.

[jezebelblues]

𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 | 𝐇.𝐒 ݁ᛪ༙ ꫂ ၴႅၴ ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭.

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐧—𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲.

pt. i, pt. ii

𝐂𝐖: fem!reader, blood+blood drinking (bro is literally a vampire there's going to be blood) 1700s!harry, mentions of death

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 7.3k

❏ yall this excruciatingly long so i just figured it was better to split this into four parts. it starts off kinda slow i knowwww but i feel like it fits his character. anyway I hope u will like. mwah :* also YES his heart beats idk i took creative liberty in assuming the blood he drinks would give him some sort of circulation and YES i drew inspo from tvd i like their vamp lore the most ok bye

Fourth of November, 1701

The English flag thrashed wildly in the biting wind, its edges snapping above the clank of chains and the groan of wood as boats were fastened to the harbor. Hooves clattered against the cobblestone, mingling with the grumble of cart wheels as townsfolk hurried homeward, eager to escape the deepening chill of evening.

Winter crept in with an ill-fated air, a shadow over the town. The fishermen’s hauls dwindled to nearly nothing, their nets coming up bare. Squash and pumpkins, once abundant, softened and rotted on their vines before they could be harvested. Livestock, struck by a strange sickness, perished too soon, their spoiled meat no longer fit to eat. Lately the townsfolk scraped by on what little they could hunt—rabbits, mostly—a meager fare that barely stretched to sustain a family for more than a few days.

YN stood at the end of the dock, the sea’s bitter wind pulling at her hair. A basket woven by her mother dangled from her arm, half-covered by a cloth beneath which a few herbs and stunted vegetables peeked through. She waited for Niall, a fisherman she’d known since childhood, to come ashore. His face was grim, his knuckles pale as he secured his boat. “Any luck?” She asked over the wind, though she already knew the answer.

His mouth twisted into a scowl as he wiped his hands on his trousers and approached her. “Lucks got nothin’ to do with it. s’the new king, swear it. God turned his back on us ‘cause of him.”

She winced and swatted his arm lightly as they started toward the stone walls encircling the town. “Don’t say such things, not out loud.” She kept her voice low, though she too had her doubts about the new ruler. “Best not to tempt fate with those words.”

He rolled his eyes and took the basket from her arm, letting it hang from his own so she could tuck her hands into her sleeves. “You agree with such things. S’pose God does as well from the lack of bloody fish.”

They passed under the worn stone archway marking the entrance to town, their footsteps echoing against the ancient stones. Dover was nestled between the English Channel and rolling green hills, hemmed in by rocky shores and the stark rise of the cliffs, standing watch like grim sentinels over the troubled little town.

As YN and Niall made their way up the winding path from the square, the quiet crept in around them, settling like a thin mist. The evening was thick and gray, heavy clouds stretching over Dover and flattening the light into a cool, uneasy dusk.

Each face they passed, they recognized. it was impossible not to, in a town so small. There was old mrs. Harris, hunched beneath a weathered shawl, who gave them a knowing nod as they went by, as if she alone were privy to the day’s secrets. And mr. James, pulling his cart toward home, who offered a quick tip of his hat, but avoided meeting their eyes too long, as if a weight hung over all of them that no one cared to mention.

Niall, walking beside her, held his silence longer than usual, and there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes when he finally turned her way. “You’re still makin’ that stew, yeah?” He hummed, nodding toward the basket swinging lightly in his hand. His tone was casual, almost lazy, yet she sensed something else beneath it, like he was testing the waters of a conversation he couldn’t quite bring himself to start.

“Mum has already started it,” YN replied, keeping her voice as light as his. “Cabbage, onion, bit of thyme. barely a stew, more a broth.” She cast a sideways glance his way, catching the faintest hint of a smile pulling at his mouth.

“No doubt you’ll have your sister servin’ it, then?” He asked, as though it were an afterthought. “I hear she has a way of makin’ anything taste finer.”

YN’s lips twitched, a hint of humor flickering in her eyes. She knew well enough where this was going, but she didn’t indulge him outright. “Oh, she has her charms, but she’s picky ‘bout who gets to see ‘em.”

He laughed quietly, a low sound that seemed to carry on the breeze, soft and uncertain. “She's got the whole town near dreamin’ of her, from what I hear. never seen her eye stray toward anyone, though.”

YN glanced away, her gaze drifting over the clustered rooftops, the narrow chimneys stretching into the dimming sky like spindly fingers. “You’d need more than a bowl of stew to catch her fancy, Niall. You’d best hope for a rich merchant or a duke comin’ ashore.”

His chuckle died off, and for a few quiet moments, they simply walked, the soft scuff of their shoes blending with the distant murmur of the sea. Yet something hung between them, unspoken, like the faintest shadow shifting at the edges of their conversation.

It was Niall who broke the silence, his voice lower this time, his words careful. “Have you heard the talk? About the old watchtower?”

YN’s gaze drifted to the far side of town, where the dense stretch of forest gave way to a steep rise, the silhouette of the abandoned tower just barely visible through the trees. “Folk say all sorts of things,” She muttered, almost to herself. “Been empty as long as I can remember.”

Niall’s eyes narrowed as he looked out toward the darkening line of trees, his jaw set. “Empty, maybe, but someone’s taken to hauntin’ it now. The lads swear they’ve seen a figure up there at night, just a shadow movin’ about, like he’s watchin’ the town from that high window.”

She felt a faint chill that wasn’t from the cold, and she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “They say a lot of things,” she repeated, her tone steady but soft. “Could be nothin’ but the wind playin’ with shadows.”

He tilted his head, the edge of a smirk softening his face. “Aye, that’s what I'd think, too. But seems each person’s got a different tale to tell. Some say he’s a protector, sent to keep us safe.” He shrugged, his gaze still fixed on the distant woods. “Others say it’s somethin’ darker—maybe one of the king’s men, sent to spy on anyone who dares breathe a word against him.”

YN’s lips parted, but she hesitated, the words hanging unspoken as her gaze lingered on the watchtower. Her grandmother had told her stories of that tower once, years ago, when she was still young enough to believe in the old tales without question. But she’d since brushed them off as the ramblings of an old woman long passed. Now, though, the stories flickered back to her, sharp and vivid as they’d once been.

“I heard some folk say it’s not a man at all,” She murmured, so quietly that her voice nearly vanished into the chill air. “Gran said it’s a spirit—a demon.” she let out a breathy laugh, sending a glance his way. “You believe my ol’gran true?”

Niall made a sound, halfway between a scoff and a chuckle, though he didn’t argue with her. “You don’t seem the sort to believe in demons,YN.”

She didn’t answer him, and for a moment, they stood in the gathering dusk, looking out toward the distant, looming shape of the tower, as if something there had caught them both in its thrall. A strange, unsettling weight hung in the air, pressing down around them, and neither seemed willing to break it.

The faint toll of the chapel bell echoed across the town, marking the evening hour. The sound seemed hollow, almost mournful, as it resonated through the narrow streets, slipping into every crack and crevice, lingering like a warning in the growing dark.

The path wound through the clustered homes of their town, each one narrow and stacked close beside the other, the rooftops tilting like old friends leaning together to brace against the coming winter. Flickers of candlelight peeked through small, thick-paned windows, casting brief glows over doorsteps worn smooth by years of footsteps. Voices drifted out faintly as neighbors settled in for the night, the low buzz of comfort after a long day’s labor.

As they neared her door, YN glanced sideways at Niall, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Well, no use lettin’ the stew go to waste with just me. You might as well come in and help make somethin’ decent out of it. And,” she added, with a playful glint, “my sister will be there, too. Might be the only chance you get to impress her.”

Niall feigned indifference, though she caught the hint of a flush in his cheeks beneath the dimming light. “Well, if it’s to spare you from that sorry excuse of a stew, I s’pose I could lend a hand,” he said with mock reluctance, yet his steps quickened as they approached the small wooden door.

Inside, the house was simple and small, with a low ceiling that sloped slightly, forcing even YN to duck beneath the beams as she led him in. A narrow hearth crackled with a weak but steady fire, casting warm shadows across the modest room, which served as both kitchen and living space. The scent of herbs, drying in bunches along the walls, mingled with the faint tang of smoke from the hearth. A single table stood in the center, its edges worn smooth, surrounded by a handful of mismatched stools and chairs, each one slightly wobbly but bearing the marks of care and countless meals.

“Is that you, YN?” Her mother’s voice came from the corner, where she was bent over a pot, stirring with steady, practiced hands. She looked up with a gentle smile, her face flushed from the warmth of the fire. “And Niall too! Just in time. I was about to send Arthur to fetch you, but he’s off fiddlin’ with somethin’ in the corner.”

Ten-year-old Arthur looked up at the mention of his name, a wide grin splitting his face when he spotted the blonde. “Niall!” He called, scrambling to his feet and darting over, a wooden sword in hand. “You’ll stay for supper, won’t you?”

He placed the basket next to the older woman before he tousled the boy’s hair, giving a wink to YN. “That depends—will your sister cook, or will your ma have mercy on me?”

YN rolled her eyes as her mother chuckled, stirring the stew with a knowing look. “I'll make sure to keep it fit for eatin’. Now, why don’t you both make yourselves useful and set the table?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Niall replied with a quick bow, flashing his best charming smile, though his eyes lingered on the slender figure by the fire.

YN’s older sister, Ella, sat with her needlework in hand, her fingers nimble as she embroidered a delicate pattern into the edge of a linen cloth. She looked up as Niall approached, offering him a nod and a faint, polite smile, though a flicker of amusement danced in her eyes.

“Ella,” Niall greeted, taking the opportunity to lean a bit too casually against the edge of the table. “Now there’s a sight finer than any supper, if I may say.”

“Oh, you may say.” Ella sighed, her tone as mild as her smile. “But sayin’ doesn’t make it so, does it?” Her eyes sparkled with a touch of mischief, and she kept her gaze on her stitching as if he hadn’t said a word.

YN snorted, reaching past Niall to set the bowls on the table. “She’ll need more than empty flattery to be wooed, Niall. You’ll be talkin’ all night before she so much as bats an eye.”

“Empty flattery?” he echoed, feigning shock as he helped with the cups, placing them with exaggerated care. “This is pure honesty, YN. Your sister’s a vision, though I'm not sure she sees it herself.”

Ella finally looked up, one eyebrow arched. “Perhaps that’s ‘cause it’s hard to see with all the bluster in here. Is it flattery or just another of your tales, Ni?”

Arthur laughed as he climbed onto his chair, his wooden sword clattering to the floor. “Tell a tale, Niall!” He urged, his eyes bright.

He obliged with a grand sweep of his arm. “Ah, tales are easy to tell when the company’s fine.” His gaze drifted meaningfully to Ella, who only smirked, clearly unbothered.

“Enough of your foolishness, Horan.” YN’s mother cut in, though her tone was warm as she dished the stew into the bowls. “There'll be time for tales when your stomach’s full. Now, all of you—sit, before this stew turns cold.”

They settled around the table, the simple meal set before them steaming in the flickering firelight. YN ladled out servings, keeping her own expression solemn as she dished out the rather grayish stew. Niall took a tentative sip, raising his brows in mock surprise.

“Well, I'll be,” he declared, setting his bowl down as if astonished. “Tastes just like stew!”

YN kicked him under the table, rolling her eyes. “Don’t sound so shocked, else we’ll make you eat the scraps.”

Ella, watching them from across the table, hid a smile behind her hand. “It's better than you deserve,” she teased, offering Niall a faintly teasing look that sent Arthur into a fit of giggles.

As they settled into their meal, the conversation turned to the familiar rhythms of the day—the fish hauls, the scarcities at the market, the latest mischief Arthur had managed, and the townsfolk they’d seen along the way. Laughter bubbled up around the table, filling the small room with warmth as the stew slowly disappeared, their bowls clinking softly with each spoonful.

It wasn't until they’d nearly finished eating that YN’s mother’s voice turned low, a faint shadow crossing her face as she glanced at arthur. “Arthur,” she said gently, “I don't want to hear any more of you playin’ outside the town walls.”

The boy frowned, his spoon paused halfway to his mouth. “But ma, I’m careful,” he protested, glancing between her and YN as if hoping for support.

“She's right,” Ella added, her voice calm but firm. “The woods aren’t safe, especially with winter comin’ on.”

He looked to Niall, his face a mask of confusion and a bit of defiance. “Niall plays near the woods, don’t you?”

He shifted in his seat, his smile fading just slightly as he glanced at YN. “Aye, lad, but it’s different. I'm older, and I keep my wits about me. Besides,” he added lightly, though his voice held a trace of something darker, “there’s been talk of someone wanderin’ near the old watchtower.”

YN’s mother sighed, folding her hands on the table. “Too much talk.” She said quietly, her gaze drifting toward the narrow window. “I don’t care if s’only lore, you’ll be safe rather than sorry.”

A hush fell over the table, and Arthur's wide eyes darted from face to face. “Who is it, then?” He whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “A man?”

Ella reached over to ruffle his hair, her voice soft. “No one knows. could be a man, could be no more than shadows. But some say it’s best not to linger too close to it, just in case.”

Niall, watching Arthur's reaction, leaned in with a grin. “There now, it’s probably nothin’ more than a lonely ol’ fox. But best stick close to home, eh? Can’t have you disappearin’ on us.”

YN tried to keep her voice light as she chimed in, though she felt the faintest prickling unease beneath the laughter. “You heard him, Arthur. best keep to the town, else you might end up a story yourself.”

The boy’s eyes grew even wider, and he gulped, glancing nervously toward the window as if expecting to see the mysterious figure standing just beyond. He fidgeted, his hand reaching instinctively for his wooden sword on the floor beside him.

With a faint, tired sigh, YN’s mother rose and began clearing the table, signaling the end of the meal. The warm glow of the evening seemed to have dimmed, and even Niall’s usual cheer was muted as he helped gather the bowls, his gaze drifting back to the light flickering along the walls.

Outside, the wind picked up, brushing against the windows and rattling the latch ever so slightly, a whisper against the warmth of the firelight. The small house was silent for a long moment, each of them lost in thought, each glancing occasionally toward the dark window where the night gathered, close and watchful.

Morning seeped slowly into Dover, pale and cool, bringing with it the damp scent of the sea and the faint call of gulls overhead. YN was awake early, as was her habit, slipping quietly out of bed while the house still lingered in the soft dimness of dawn. The fire in the hearth had died to embers, and a chill clung to the air, but she moved quickly, tucking a shawl around her shoulders as she crossed the small room.

Arthur, already up and dressed, was tugging at the latch on the back door, eager to start his morning chores. He looked back when he heard her steps, his face lighting up with a grin. “Thought you’d sleep through it, lazybones.” He teased, though his eyes sparkled with mischief.

She snorted softly, pinching his cheek as she passed him. “Cheeky lad,” she muttered. “Come on, then. Let's get to it.”

They stepped out into the brisk morning, their breath puffing in the cold, and began making their way down the narrow stone path that wound through the small patch of yard behind their home. Frost clung to the grass, glinting in the pale light, and the chickens shuffled restlessly in their pen as Arthur went to check on them.

“Careful now.” 

He bent down next to them to scatter their feed. The hens fluffed their feathers, clucking contentedly as they pecked at the ground, and Arthur kept one eye on the rooster, who strutted about with his chest puffed, keeping watch over his domain.

“Look at him,” he whispered, stifling a laugh as he threw a handful of seed. “Thinks he’s king of all creation, that one.”

She grinned, crouching beside him. “Well, he’s a rooster. not much else to do but look important, is there?”

The boy giggled, tossing a bit of feed toward the rooster, who eyed him warily before puffing up even further. YN kept watch as he finished the feeding, carefully securing the pen’s latch when he was done.

They moved on to check the small patch of herbs and vegetables that clung to life in the early cold, though the frost had already done its damage. The leaves hung limp and dark, and YN  frowned, brushing a thin layer of frost from a withered cabbage leaf.

“S’not lookin’ good, is it?” Arthur said, his voice dropping to a murmur as he followed her gaze.

“No,” she replied softly, her fingers brushing over the leaves. “But we’ll manage. Always do.”

He gave her a solemn nod, but she could see the worry in his eyes, the way he seemed to glance toward the woods, as if he might glimpse the shadowed figure their mother had warned him about the night before. She reached over and squeezed his shoulder, offering a smile.

“No need for lookin’ so glum, Arthur,” she said, keeping her tone light. “We've plenty to keep us busy, and I'll wager you’ll see that rooster crowned king before anything happens to us.”

He managed a faint smile, his spirits lifting just enough to reassure her. They finished up quickly, making their way back inside, where the warmth of the house greeted them. YN set about preparing a quick meal for Arthur and her mother, who was just beginning to stir, her tired eyes softening at the sight of her children.

Once breakfast was sorted, YN returned to her small room to ready herself for the day. She tugged off her worn nightdress, slipping into the fresh linen undergarments she’d set aside, and carefully pulled on a plain woolen dress that hung neatly from a peg beside her bed. It was a simple dress, but a neat one, its modest collar and long sleeves making it suitable for the chilly weather. she straightened the fabric, adjusting the waist so that it lay just right, and wrapped her shawl back over her shoulders, pinning it at the front with an old, weathered brooch that had once belonged to her grandmother.

She caught her reflection in the small, scratched mirror by the window—a young woman with steady eyes and a hint of determination in her gaze, her hair braided behind her, a few strands slipping free to frame her face. After a moment, she tucked a few stray wisps behind her ear and gave herself a brisk nod, turning to head out.

The streets were beginning to stir as she made her way down to the docks, the early morning light casting a soft, muted glow over the cobblestone. A few shopkeepers were already sweeping their doorsteps, preparing for the day’s trade, and a handful of townsfolk passed by, nodding their greetings as she walked.

When she reached the docks, she found Niall already there, standing by his boat, his hands working quickly to secure the ropes. His coat hung loose over his shoulders, and his hair was tousled from the morning breeze, but there was a contented look in his eyes as he glanced up and saw her approach.

“Well, if it isn’t the queen of the cabbage patch,” he greeted her, a grin breaking across his face. “Come to see if I've hauled in a king’s feast for ye?”

YN rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she stopped a few feet away from him. “I wouldn't go that far. but I'll settle for a decent fish, if you’ve managed one.”

He laughed, giving the rope a final tug before stepping back, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Oh, a decent fish, she says. Well, lucky for you, I've got just that.” He reached into a small wooden crate and held up a plump haddock, its scales glinting in the early light. “Not a king’s ransom, but it’ll do for stew, won’t it?”

She eyed the fish, unable to suppress a smile. “Aye, it’ll do. Might even save us from havin’ to wrangle another cabbage.”

Niall chuckled, tucking the fish back into the crate. “Couldn’t have that, now, could we? I’m doin’ my part to keep your cookin’ passable.”

“Passable?” She laughed, nudging him lightly as she stepped up beside him to peer into the crate. “You’re just glad to have an excuse to come round, steal our bread, and charm my sister.”

He gave her a mock-offended look, though his eyes glinted with humor. “Now, that’s hurtful, YN. I'm here for the food and the fine company, naturally. If your sister happens to be nearby, well, that’s not my fault, is it?”

She rolled her eyes, unable to help the small laugh that escaped. “Poor Ella’ll need more than a fish to be impressed. Best not get your hopes up too high.”

“Aye, she’s a hard one to please,” he admitted, a faint, wistful smile crossing his face. “But I'll manage somehow. or at least, I'll keep tryin’.”

They both fell silent, their gazes drifting out over the water, where a thin mist clung to the surface, casting an eerie calm over the harbor. The other boats rocked gently in the quiet, and the gulls called out above them, their cries echoing faintly across the empty stretch of sea. Together they turned back toward the town, the mist curling softly around them as they walked, side by side, in the quiet of the morning.

The midday lull brought a hush over the town, as folk took their brief respite between the day’s labors. The soft light of afternoon slipped over the rooftops, and YN found herself winding her way down one of the quieter streets toward Maura’s, a modest little cottage that doubled as the gathering place for the women in town. Here, around a crowded table of mismatched cups and chipped saucers, town gossip simmered as steadily as the tea.

Maura's door was open, the sound of voices spilling out into the cobbled lane, and YN slipped in quietly, greeting the women with a polite nod before finding a seat near the end of the table. The familiar faces of neighbors turned to greet her—Maura herself, with her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the kitchen, mrs. Harris with her ever-watchful eyes, and a handful of others who paused only long enough to give YN a quick nod before returning to the subject that had clearly held their interest long before she arrived.

“I'm tellin’ you,” mrs. Harris was saying, her voice low and edged with certainty. “There's somethin’ in that tower. maybe it’s a spy, maybe it’s worse.”

Maura scoffed, shaking her head. “If it were a spy, we’d know by now, wouldn’t we? why bother lurkin’ about if there’s nothin’ worth seein’ here?”

“There’s plenty to see, Maura,” the older woman sighed, leaning forward, her teacup nearly sloshing over the rim as she gestured toward the window. “Who’s to say he hasn’t been watchin’ us all along, takin’ note of who’s loyal to the new king and who’s not?”

Maura snorted, but one of the other women, Anna, leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. “or worse—what if it’s no man at all?” Her gaze darted to the others, her eyes wide with a kind of fearful excitement. “There are tales, you know. Of things that wander the woods. Spirits that linger in dark places, things that only come out when the days grow short.”

Mrs. Harris crossed herself, nodding solemnly. “Aye. folk say it’s a night creature—a demon, even.“

YN listened quietly, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup, but she held back a smile. as the women exchanged anxious looks, she leaned back, sipping her tea, the warmth of it calming her nerves. To her, the stories felt like little more than old wives’ tales—a way for folk to pass the time when the days grew cold and bleak. A lonely man, perhaps, who’d taken to the tower for solitude, a soul with nowhere else to go. Nothing so sinister as the women here believed.

“You've a skeptical look about you, dear” Maura said, catching her eye with a wry smile. “Don’t tell me you’d walk up to that tower yourself, would you?”

She met her gaze calmly, setting her cup down. “I'd sooner believe it’s a wanderer, Maura. Maybe one who wants peace more than anything else. Don’t see why we should fear him.”

“Peace, or no peace, he’s still up there, watchin’ us all.”

YN didn’t reply, only nodded politely as the conversation swirled on, the voices around her swelling in speculation and rumor. After a while, she quietly rose, setting her cup aside and offering Maura a grateful nod before slipping out the door and into the fresh air.

The chatter of the women faded behind her, and she took a deep breath, the cool air filling her lungs and clearing her thoughts. She knew she was unlikely to shake their unease or convince them of her view, but as she thought of the lonely figure up in the tower, something tugged at her—a kind of curiosity that gnawed gently at the back of her mind.

Without a second thought, she made her way home, moving quickly and quietly, her mind already set. She slipped through the door, pausing only to grab her small woven basket from its hook. Her mother glanced up, but YN offered her a calm smile, murmuring something vague about a quick errand before supper.

IN the small corner of their kitchen where they kept their stores, she selected a handful of berries from the last of their foraging, a few slightly bruised carrots, and a small bunch of herbs tied with a thin scrap of cloth. Modest offerings, but enough, she hoped, to serve as a token of peace, a sign that she meant no harm.

She took a deep breath and headed toward the edge of town, her footsteps light as she made her way past the familiar lanes and toward the narrow path that led up to the old watchtower.

The path leading to the watchtower was narrow, winding its way up the hillside in gentle, uneven curves. YN had walked these woods many times before, though never with the purpose she had now. Above her, the sky was beginning to darken, clouds gathering in ominous clumps, casting long shadows across the land as the sun slipped lower.

Her heart thudded in her chest, not from fear, but from a strange mixture of curiosity and anticipation. The stories she’d heard that morning lingered in her mind like faint echoes, each warning a small reminder of the mystery ahead. But she felt something else too—a quiet resolve, an odd certainty that she had to see this figure, whoever he might be, with her own eyes.

The watchtower loomed before her, its crumbling stone walls climbing into the sky, weather-worn and scarred by time. She could see now why the townsfolk feared it; it looked like a relic from another era, half-hidden by the dense growth of ivy and the creeping fog that clung to the base of its walls. It was silent here, too silent, as if even the birds dared not sing in the shadow of the old tower.

Steeling herself, she moved forward, her footsteps muffled by the damp earth. The closer she got, the more the watchtower’s age showed itself in cracked stones and vines, a darkness that seemed to pool between the stones, deepening the gray of the twilight. At the base of the tower, a narrow door sat slightly ajar, barely wide enough for her to slip through. She paused there, glancing up, feeling an odd twinge of nervousness as her gaze drifted to the upper windows, dark and empty.

Drawing a deep breath, she pushed the door open, stepping into the dim interior.

The inside of the tower was colder, the air thick and still. Faint light seeped through cracks in the walls, just enough to reveal the sparse furnishings—a wooden table, books, a chair beside the hearth, long since gone cold. Dust motes hung in the air, catching the dim light like fragments of stars, and a faint, earthy smell lingered in the space, as though the room hadn’t seen another soul in years.

Yet something else lingered too, something that made the hair on the back of her neck prickle—a sense that she wasn’t alone.

A figure stepped forward from behind a wall, emerging so quietly she almost missed it. He was tall, with dark curls that tumbled around his face, shadows clinging to his features as though he belonged to the darkness itself. His eyes met hers, a piercing green that seemed to hold an entire century’s worth of secrets, and for a brief, unsettling moment, she felt as though he could see straight through her.

“What brings you here?” His voice was low, quiet, each word clipped and precise, yet holding a softness that surprised her.

YN swallowed, her hand instinctively tightening around the basket she held. “I–I thought you might be hungry,” she stammered, offering the basket forward with a hesitant smile. “Folk talk of you up here, you know. Thought it might be nice to see if you wanted some company.”

He raised a brow, a faint trace of amusement softening his gaze. He didn’t reach for the basket, but instead continued to watch her, as though trying to make sense of why she would come here, alone, to his solitary refuge.

Didn’t seem exactly the safest thing.

“People rarely visit me,” he said finally, his voice barely more than a murmur, as though he were speaking more to himself than to her. “Especially not with offerings.”

“Well, it’s no great feast,” she laughed breathily—nervous, setting the basket down on the table. “But it’s enough for a quiet meal.”

He looked down at the basket, his expression unreadable. The shadows seemed to deepen around him, and for a brief moment, she wondered if he would turn her away. But then his gaze shifted back to her, gentle, as though something in her gesture had reached him in a way she couldn’t quite understand.

“I don’t need much,” he breathed, finally stepping closer, his movements careful, almost tentative. “But thank you.”

The silence stretched between them as Harry’s eyes lingered on her, his regard tracing every movement of her face, the subtle rise and fall of her shoulders, the way her lips pressed together as if searching for words. He could feel it—her pulse thrumming in her neck, the warmth radiating from her skin, the soft, steady rhythm of blood rushing through her veins. It was maddening. The sound alone clawed at the quiet corners of his mind, stirring that old, cursed hunger he’d worked so hard to bury.

But he couldn’t let her see that. Couldn’t let even a flicker of it touch his face.

With a composed nod, he turned his attention to the basket, using the small action to steady himself, to pull his focus away from her and fix it on the modest offering she’d brought. Herbs and roots, earthy and clean, none of it touched by blood. He forced his breath to steady, aware of her watchful eyes on him as he sorted through the items, careful to keep his hands stable.

“Are you here… often?” She asked softly, breaking the silence in a voice that felt almost hesitant, as though unsure whether it was allowed. Her gaze darted around the room, taking in the sparse surroundings, the thick shadows that crept into every corner.

Harry let his fingers linger on a sprig of thyme, keeping his voice level as he answered. “Yes,” he confided simply, his tone giving nothing away. “I find it… peaceful.”

“Peaceful,” she echoed, a faint smile touching her lips as she looked back at him. “It doesn’t frighten you, being all alone up here?”

He allowed himself the smallest of smiles—him—frightened? How sweetly ironic. “Sometimes solitude is easier than the alternative.”

She studied him, and he could feel the weight of her eyes, searching for something beneath his answer. Her heartbeat quickened just a bit, a small, steady thump that seemed to reach straight through him, its warmth coiling like a spark inside his chest. He could almost taste it—the sweet, heady pull of her pulse.

But he forced the thought down, burying it beneath years of restraint. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, redirecting the focus onto her. “And what about you?” he asked, his tone soft but steady. “Doesn’t it frighten you to come all this way, alone?”

She gave a small laugh, shrugging one shoulder. “Maybe it should. But I suppose I don’t scare easily.” She paused, her gaze slipping to the narrow window where the trees outside swayed gently in the wind. “It’s quiet here, almost like a different world. Sometimes it feels like our town is shrinking, like it’s closing in. Out here, it’s–it’s freer.”

Harry’s gaze softened, though he said nothing. There was something in her words he understood, something that echoed faintly in his own memories of why he’d chosen this place—this forgotten, lonely tower—to escape. A life he could no longer live, a curse he couldn’t risk unleashing.

She looked back at him, curiosity bright in her eyes. “People say you’ve been here a long time—I mean, they say the tower’s been abandoned forever. But you don’t seem…” She trailed off, biting her lip as though she didn’t quite know how to finish.

“Don’t seem what?” he asked, his voice low, inviting her to continue.

She waited, and he watched her carotid flicker in her throat as she searched for her words. “You don’t seem like someone who belongs in a place like this,” she murmured. “Like you’ve got more in you than—than just seclusion.”

He felt a tug deep in his chest at her words, something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time—a faint longing, a half-forgotten ache for a life he’d once dreamed of. But that life was gone. He’d buried it the night he’d been turned, when the world as he knew it had collapsed into a semblance of hell.

“It’s strange,” he replied carefully, his eyes drifting toward the flickering shadows on the wall. The hunger gnawed at him, unrelenting, every second reminding him of how close he was to her. She was standing barely a foot away, her warmth filling the small space, her heartbeat a steady, maddening drumbeat that drew him closer, closer…

He straightened slightly, pulling himself back. “Solitude,” he said quietly, almost as if reminding himself, “sometimes feels simpler.”

She nodded slowly, but her eyes stayed on him, and he could see the spark of curiosity still there, unquenched. She was brave, this girl. Far braver than most. And something about that bravery—the quiet way she stood her ground in the face of shadows and rumors, in the presence of a stranger—intrigued him. She wasn’t running away. And a part of him, despite everything, wanted her to stay.

“Thank you,” he mumbled—almost a dismissal, gesturing to the basket, his voice softened with a touch of genuine gratitude. “Not many would bring gifts to a stranger. Especially not one so isolated.”

She smiled, her cheeks flushing faintly in the dim light. “Well, maybe I’ll bring something better next time,” she replied with a small laugh. “If you’d want that.”

He paused, her words lingering in the air between them. Next time. It felt dangerous, allowing the thought of it, letting her return. But as she looked at him, her smile warm and unguarded, he found himself nodding almost without thinking.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I’d like that.”

But even as he spoke, he felt the old thirst stir beneath his words, a dark reminder that she was flesh and blood, and he was anything but.

Harry watched her retreating figure until the last of her shadow disappeared down the winding path. The silence settled thick around him once more, yet it felt different now, charged with the lingering warmth of her presence. The faint echo of her heartbeat still pulsed in his mind, like a phantom drum that refused to fade. He drew in a slow, deliberate breath, pushing down the hunger that had clawed so violently to the surface, fighting a void that had nearly overpowered him the entire time she’d stood there.

He had always been a weak man for the living.

Turning back into the tower, he closed the door and leaned against it, his hand flexing as he grappled with that old, familiar agony, the ache that thrummed through his veins whenever he was near a human. After all these years, after countless nights spent mastering his restraint, he still struggled. The curse was unrelenting—an obstinate thirst that he could never truly silence, only suppress.

Memories rose in him unbidden, dark and sharp, clawing their way out of the places he kept them buried. He could still recall the crisp air of that autumn night in 1601, back when he was alive, when he’d believed his life was bound for something beautiful. He’d been a poet then, a young man enamored with language, eager to make something of himself. He’d had dreams of attending university, of pursuing a life dedicated to literature and ideas, a life where he could spend his days wrapped in thought and art.

But all of that had been shattered in a single night. He had been walking back from a small tavern in London, tipsy and laughing, still reciting lines of poetry in his head, the night air filling him with a light, exhilarating hope. He remembered it so clearly—the dimly lit street, the damp chill creeping into his coat, the rough hand that had seized him by the throat and dragged him into an alley. He’d thought it was a robber at first, maybe a cutthroat from the docks looking for a quick coin.

But then he’d seen his attacker’s face.

The man’s eyes were inhuman, glinting with a feral hunger, and his skin was pale, almost translucent in the moonlight. Harry had fought, struggling against the impossible strength of those arms, but it had been useless. The man had pinned him down with a brutal ease, baring his teeth—a flash of something razor-sharp, malevolent—before sinking them deep into Harry’s throat. The pain had been excruciating, and then everything had gone dark, his life draining away into a cold, endless void.

He hadn’t known what had happened to him for days afterward. He’d awoken alone, hidden in the dark recesses of a forgotten basement, his body shuddering with an unholy thirst that tore through him like wildfire. The transformation had left him a half-mad, hollow shell, consumed by an insatiable need he didn’t understand. He’d stumbled through the streets, eyes wild, hunting without even knowing what he was hunting for. And when he’d finally cornered a man in the dead of night, tearing into his throat with a frenzy he could barely comprehend, he’d learned what he had become.

The first months were a blur of blood and horror, a nightmare he hadn’t known how to escape. He had been controlled by an ache, a greed—enslaved by it, a wretched creature lost to bloodlust. He’d fought it as best he could, but each time he tried to resist, the thirst only grew stronger, until he was reduced to a brutal, savage need that erased everything else.

It had been a year later, in 1602, when he encountered another vampire. His name was Thomas, a wily, unrepentant creature who fed freely and without remorse. Thomas had found Harry alone and ravenous, nearly mad from weeks of starvation in an attempt to restrain himself. He’d taken Harry under his wing, teaching him how to survive in this new, cursed life, how to hunt, how to kill cleanly. But while Harry had been grateful for the guidance, he quickly saw that Thomas reveled in the whispers of the devil, that he viewed humanity as little more than prey. He was malignant. 

His own heart was too soft for such cruelty. He’d hated the feel of human flesh beneath his hands, the way his victims’ eyes widened in terror as he held them down, the way their life drained away in his grasp. He hadn’t wanted this life. But the need was too powerful, too all-consuming, and he had been too weak to fight it.

And then, in 1643, came the night that shattered him completely.

Her name had been Beatrice—a young woman from Manchester, one of the few souls who’d looked past his oddity, his quiet reserve, and seen something in him worth knowing. She’d been kind, curious, always showing up at his door with a warm smile, her laughter lighting up his otherwise bleak existence. For months, she’d been a balm to him, her presence a brief reprieve from the loneliness that gnawed at him. He’d been so careful around her, so painfully restrained, never allowing himself to get too close. But one night, after days of starvation, he had faltered. She’d come to visit him, concern etched on her face, her hand reaching out to touch his cheek.

And in that moment, he’d lost himself.

The memory of that night was burned into him like a scar, the scent of her blood, the warmth of it cascading from his lips and developing him whole— the sound of her heart slowing as he drank from her—all of it haunted him, even now, decades later. He had tried to pull away, tried to stop himself, but the hunger had overpowered him, consuming her life, taking everything she had. When he finally came to his senses, she lay cold and pale in his arms, her eyes staring up at him, empty and accusing.

After that, he’d fled, haunted by the horror of what he’d done, determined never to let it happen again. He’d hidden himself away in this tower, learning to feed from the animals that roamed the forest, forcing himself to endure the hunger rather than inflict his curse on another innocent soul. He would never again allow himself to feel that agony, that terrible loss.

And yet tonight, with her presence in his small, empty world, something had stirred in him, a strange, aching reminder of what it meant to be human, to crave connection, companionship. It was dangerous, foolish to even entertain such thoughts, yet he couldn’t deny the faint spark she had left behind.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe slowly, steadying the wild, restless energy that surged in him. She couldn’t come back. He couldn’t risk it. He would have to find a way to make her think the tower was haunted, or evil—something to scare her off for good. Because he knew himself, knew that he was a creature of hunger, bound to a curse he couldn’t escape.

And if she returned—he wasn’t sure how long he could resist.

[myartcloudsstuff]

Thought about sharing some sketches I did of Vampire! Harry 🤭

[moonshadoes]

best vampire x human relationship dynamic is when the human is consistently outmatching the vampire’s freak

[jarofstyles]

Lullaby

okay... so here we are with a new vamprry. pleaseee let me know what you guys think, I am a slut for vampy so I figured we needed some more of him in our life :)

Check out our Patreon for early access and 180+ exclusive writings!

WC- 3.1k

Warnings- mentions of blood, vampires, stalking (Edward Cullen has nothing on him), twilight slander, invasion of privacy, morally gray H, etc

-----

Harry hated that stupid movie. 

It wasn’t at all what real vampires were. While he wished it was as lighthearted as the movie tried to portray, it was a bit more classy and a lot more hierarchical than the humans would truly ever know. They walked among them, yes, but in more plain sight than they could ever guess. Celebrities, politicians, even royalty were of vampiric life. It wasn’t as silly as this movie suggested, nor did they solely feed off of animal blood. It did taste a bit gamey, did in a pinch, but he wasn’t one who could stomach that sort of pseudo vegan lifestyle. Ever since that movie had erupted from whatever depths of hell it was created, it had caused him nothing but strife. Years later the vampire craze had seemed to slow, but lines were nearly burned into his ears after being subjected to the comfort movie of his unfortunate neighbor and object of his current affection.

He knew it was creepy and perhaps the one thing he shared with the Cullen fellow. Watching her as she slept. 

It was dangerous, stupid even, for her to leave her windows unlocked and while part of him wanted to scold her for it, the other part was thankful. He didn’t have to form another guise to get into her house, he could enter directly where his little human laid her head at night and he could watch her breathe. Listen to her breaths and heartbeats underneath the television shows she left on to drown out any noises the old house may make. That’s what she said in her journal, anyway. 

He sat in the chair across from her bed, listening to the comfort of her heartbeats as he flipped through the pages. It was an invasion of privacy, he knew it, and while sometimes he felt bad… it was his way of getting to know her. Morals had never quite been his thing anyway, let alone when it came to the girl snoozing in her bed like a pleased kitten in a sunbeam. Maybe he was deluding himself, but he swore that she calmed the fitful sleep when he entered his room. Like her body knew of his presence. Instead of being on edge, like any sensible human would be in direct contact with a predator, she possibly had a miswire of her brain. 

For all of the things he knew about her, for his addiction to her scent and being near her, they didn’t talk much. Harry owned the house next to hers, which was originally a rental, but the moment he had caught her scent he knew he had to stay longer. 

It was unnatural if you were a human, sure, but if you were a vampire you would understand. There were certain people, certain scents, that drove you insane. That weighed heavily on your brain and acted as an addiction. Y/N had captured his attention the moment he had pulled into the street, Harry immediately clocked that she had been the source of the scent that had caught his nose a few miles away. He’d been meaning to park at his place and go on foot in search of it, but as fate would have it; she was right next door. 

To get an invitation into her house, it had been quite simple. Using his cat that didn’t exist as an excuse; he asked if he could come around and look for him in her yard. The little thing had gasped, nodding her head ecstatically and inviting him in without second thought, only with the promise of getting a pet in if he were to find the fictional cat. A good thing for him, but worrying for the future. Inviting people in, vampires in, was incredibly dangerous. He had wanted to scold her for it, to make her understand the danger she had put herself in, but it was much harder to do that when said woman had no idea that his kind could even be a threat to her. 

From there it had been waving when he left and she sat on her porch with her book, feet tucked under her body as she rocked on her glider. A pitcher of cherry limeade next to her, sweetening her blood in ways that made his fangs prick his lips. The human did things she had next to no clue affected him so deeply. One particular day he had been desperate to hear her voice, going as far as stealing her mail so he could deliver it to her himself. Knocking at her door, he’d been anxious with anticipation hearing her walk up to the front of her house. Water had been on and there was the faint scent of lemon dish soap lingering in the air along with the slight clinking of dishes, cluing him into the fact she had definitely been doing her dishes. When his obsession did answer the door, his breath had caught in his throat as he looked down at her. 

Something about that day had shifted his addiction to her into overdrive. Watching her eyes widen and the smile grow on her face, tendrils of hair falling out of her ponytail and her heartbeat picking up, he had found out that he wasn’t the only one with an interest. He’d handed over the mail, swallowing the lump in his throat as her smaller hand brushed his own. Warm, silky skin, lighting him up with the single touch. It had been a short interaction, mostly due to the burning in his throat as the wind picked up and washed him with her scent yet again. A muttered excuse had made even himself wince as he was mindful of his pace, walking back to his place and getting directly into his car. He’d needed a feed desperately if he was going to be around her. 

Harry had done a plethora of ridiculous things in order to slowly wiggle himself into the little human’s life, but getting a pet cat was probably the most ridiculous. A fluffy black cat with golden eyes and a raspy meow had been his pick, letting it have the run of the house and the yard because what if Y/N asked about it? The plan was to get himself intertwined in her life, so he had to have some truths to it. 

As oblivious as some humans could be, he knew his human was far more perceptive in terms of figuring out if people had things off with them. Her diary had said as much. 

Tonight, he had been chomping at the bit for her to go to sleep. Waiting outside her house, watching her shut it down and go upstairs as he scaled the large tree next to her room for a view. He could tell she was tired, but she sat for twenty minutes scribbling away into her notebook with a smile on her face and the pace of her heart upticking a few times, making him wonder what she was writing about. Was it him? Her certainly hoped so.

It was pathetic. If anyone knew of his wistful sighs and his borderline obsessive routine of slipping into her room one she fell into dreamland, they’d surely remind him that getting involved with a human was surely a terrible idea. It wasn’t unheard of, no, but it ended in disaster some of the time. The vampire counterpart going too far during a feeding, accidentally hurting them during sex, the human getting sick and them perishing leaving the eternal to go insane after. Even still, the threat wasn’t enough to keep him away from her. 

As he heard her breathing even out, he climbed slowly into her room and made sure to keep quiet as she hadn’t entered the deepest part of sleep yet. Usually he had some sort of control on his need to be around her but after their conversation in her backyard, he had been itching to get into her mind. 

The journal was a deep brown, suede strings around it with a few charms on the worn material. It wrapped around to keep it closed, reminding him of his own journals back in his estate. She cherished each one of her journals, it seemed, and he found himself liking her even more because of it. Humans could be so wasteful, so unaware of the things they produced. His human, though, she was mindful of her footprint. A slight smile twitched at the corner of his lips as he looked down at her sleeping form. Looming over her wasn’t the brightest idea, but something in his restless soul had calmed with the vision of her safe and snug in the warm blankets. 

His stomach was full from one of those dreaded blood packets. Nothing like the real thing, required heating, but he needed to ensure she was safe from him. With blood that made his mouth water, even with his strong restraint he wasn’t going to leave anything to chance. The idea of anything happening to her weighed heavily on him, twisting his stomach each and every time it came to light in his mine. “Gorgeous.” He murmured, brushing his knuckle against her cheek. The touch was a compulsion, unable to help it as he felt the warmth under his cool digit. Every time he limited himself to just a few fleeting touches, but he could feel it getting harder and harder staying away from her as the days went by. 

Mentally prying himself from her form, he took the journal in his hand and padded over to the armchair in the corner. It gave a perfect view of her sleeping face, the soft lines making his chest squeeze before he opened up the leatherbound book to the newest entry. 

‘I saw him again today. I haven’t spoken about him much in here but I think its time to. 

He is ungodly handsome. I’m talking, how are you real, greek god, roman statue good looking.’

He had to stifle a laugh, running his finger over the inked words. 

‘His name is Harry and we’ve met a few times, but today was the longest we spoke. I finally met his cat, Midnight, which is a less than original name for a black cat but I’ll let it slide. He was so gentle with him, picking him up and letting me hold him. He purred and was absolutely the cutest little thing ever, but I was distracted by his owner. Usually he doesn’t say much and originally I thought he didn’t like me or something, but I think he’s just shy.’

Another thing that made him have to seal his lips from reacting to. Harry wasn’t shy, he was cold. He kept to himself not because he was afraid, but because he wasn’t fond of communication. In her case, though, it was because he wasn’t sure he could keep from asking her to come over to his place and find a way to seduce her. To get her just as addicted to his presence as he was to hers. As morally gray as a creature could be, he didn’t want to force her affections. 

‘ He has the nicest voice. It’s quiet but dark and deep and I felt bad for thinking about what else it could say later on, but it’s not like he’d ever know. There has never been another person to his house that I’ve seen that looks romantic, but maybe he just like fuckbuddies. Sucks that hes my neighbor and I get dreadfully emotionally attached, otherwise I’d suggest that sorta thing. Maybe. It’s unlike me to feel so curious about a man considering I’ve been doing my best to try and stay true to my no dating year, but it’s incredibly hard not to want to see more of him.’

Sitting up in his seat, he didn’t suppress the smirk on his face as he read what she wrote down. Maybe one day he’d feel guilt about reading her private thing, but right now? He was fucking thankful he did. There was confirmation of returned interest, interest in more nonetheless. Usually the idea of more than a night of sex would send the vampire running, but his little human had bewitched him. There would be no world in which he could have a single night with her and give her up. Being more in tune with the more primal parts of him, he had the knowledge that it was already finding himself tangled in her web. This mere human trapping his affections in steel threads. 

‘I think I’m gonna try and feel him out a bit. Not in a creepy way or anything but, maybe take more initiative. The only problem with that is he is super intimidating and probably a bit out of my league, and I’ve got no damn clue if he’s single or even looking. At the risk of making a fool out of myself, I’m gonna try and see. Mama always did say you never got anything if you didn’t ask. I still can’t believe how many times i've quoted her in here. I wish she was around so I could ask her what to do.’

The smile on his face slipped as he was reminded of previous entries. His sweet little human was pretty alone in the world. She had some friends, was good with the other neighbors, but she had no family. She still had no clue it was him that left her the pie and stack of romance books outside her door on Christmas. He’d feel gutted at the idea of her spending it alone, especially after reading and knowing how badly she craved companionship. There was no true talk of what happened to her family other than there being an accident, but that was something he would let her tell him herself. 

‘I hope I’m not just reading into things because I’m a little desperate for someone to want me, but I swore I could feel him checking me out. He gave me a cute little smile and the motherfucker had dimples. DIMPLES! How is it possible for a man as severely handsome as him to look adorable when he smiled? God does indeed have favorites.’ 

It was definitely a stroke to the ego to know how attractive she found him, but the next paragraph was what really moved him. 

‘Above all of that, he seems pretty smart. Really intelligent, actually. He’s quite charming once he starts talking to you, and I felt like he was really giving me every bit of his attention. In a way it was a little overwhelming because I haven’t ever felt that way before from a man, but it was so nice to have someone give me their time without the distraction of phones or work or anything. We talked for probably about half an hour and I found myself getting closer to the fence, almost asking if he wanted to come in for a coffee or if he was down, cherry limeade. I didn’t want to seem desperate though, so I said bye first. Stupid on my part. He seems like the type of person who I could talk to for hours and not get bored. That's a rare type of person. Then again, maybe I am slightly delusional.’ 

If only she knew.

Harry closed the journal, diligently trying to replicate the way she had wrapped the suede around the leather before getting up and placing it back on her nightstand. 

“If only you knew that you make me feel so insane that I’d risk stealing a star for you.” His words were delicate, hopefully entering her dreams. It was abundantly apparent to him that she wasn’t given the proper affection in her life and It would be his job to provide.A challenge he was up for. His fingers found her face again, delicately tracing the curve of her nose as he tried to commit each mark on her to memory. It was interrupted, though, when she let out a little whimper in her sleep, making him freeze and his eyes widen. He was fully prepared to have to wipe her memories, to have her eyes fluttering open and screams leaving her throat, but instead she did the opposite. Hands emerged from under the blankets, lightly grabbing onto his wrist and pulling his cool touch onto her hot cheek. Silky smooth skin, slightly damp from the light sweat in her sleep nuzzled into his palm. He watched as limbs stretched under her before she curled up again and held his hand to her face, urging the touch to stay put.

She was asleep and sought him out. The grip on his sleeve lessened as she fell back into the slumber he was jealous of, wishing he could be in her head and see the things she had running around up there. The sweetest hum left her throat in a final act of settling, Harry allowing the urges to win and ran his thumb over the curve of said cheek.  It was astonishing to him, given that her body should be sensing the danger of having the monster who had dreamed of sinking his fangs into her throat, her wrist, her inner thigh, feasting on her blood- but maybe she could also sense that he wouldn’t want to hurt her. Just a taste. He could live with just a taste of her on his tongue. “Sweet little thing…” He swallowed, finding the urge more strong by the moment. All he craved was crawling into the bed with her, pulling her frame into his own and burying his face in the curve of her neck. He would take a little bite, just enough to get it on his tongue before he licked it closed. He wanted to feel her breathing against his hand and hear every shift she made at night, the rush of blood through her veins. It was surpassing the normal urges a vampire would have with his prey, but he had a feeling it had never been normal between them. He couldn’t change it overnight. His body softened as he leaned against the bed, a soft hum leaving his lips as he began to lightly sing the soft lullaby he had been coaxed into dreamland with as a child.

There was no moving him, not until the first hint of sunlight lit the sky azure. The best night of his life had been sitting on his knees by her bedside, allowed to have his cold skin warmed by her cheek as she had put it there herself. When he had to finally pull away, the warmth tingled in his palm as he pressed it to his own cheek and imagined how it would feel the day she let him warm himself from the source. However long that would take, he would wait along for her and let her cling to his unknowing hand to sing her the quietest lullabies to quell any fears she had.

[aphroditelovesu]

.⋆◞❖°･.masterlists◡̈♡._

*:･ﾟ✧.for you, 𝐼 ★•¸— ̶c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ pretend like ❝.╭.+I w͟a͟s͟ h𝑎ppy°⊹when I was⋆◟̆๑𝓼𝓪𝓭; for you❝.:*｡I could p͟r͟e͟t͟e͟n͟d͟˘.+*✦like I ɯαs▾₊˚𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 wh𝑒𝑛 I｡*☆𝙝𝙪𝙧𝙩; ℐ wish･ﾟ｡❥love was ᴘᴇʀғᴇᴄᴛ❀⊰｡as love ̶i̶t̶s͟e͟l͟f͟╮ⵓ❞¸I ɯısh all あ.♡my 𝔀𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼 could ❞.ᔘ❀be 𝖍𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖓; I୭.° grew a 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟+*.♡:th𝑎t can't be ↬,｡˚𝘽𝙇𝙊𝙊𝙈𝙀𝘿 in a↷.dream•that c͟a͟n͟'͟t͟ come ★*̣̥⁄⁄𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓮৴☽❰❪+

↳¸•.↑✿cited song: fake love by BTS.

➷°.[✩] BTS ╭⟡;💜

➷°.[✩] BLACKPINK╭⟡;🖤

➷°.[✩] ITZY ╭⟡;🧡

➷°.[✩] Stray Kids ╭⟡;💙

く く く EXO: Yandere Baekhyun (Romantic), Yandere Suho (Romantic). く く く TWICE: Imagine as Classmates.

➷°.[✩] Greek Mythology ╭⟡;⚡

➷°.[✩] Egyptian Mythology ╭⟡;𓂀

➷°.[✩] Historical Characters ╭⟡;📜

く く く The Lost Queen | Yandere!Alexander the Great ❝You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn't understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren't safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won't let you go so easily.❞ The Lost Queen Series Masterlist

➷°.[✩] The Vampire Diaries // The Originals╭⟡;🧛

➷°.[✩] House of the Dragon╭⟡;🐉

➷°.[✩] Game of Thrones╭⟡;❄️

➷°.[✩] The Sandman╭⟡;⌛

➷°.[✩] Outlander╭⟡;🗿

➷°.[✩] Wednesday╭⟡;🎻

➷°.[✩] Brooklyn Nine-Nine╭⟡;👮‍♂️

➷°.[✩] Bridgerton╭⟡;🐝

➷°.[✩] Shadow and Bone╭⟡;☠️

➷°.[✩] Outer Banks╭⟡;💰

➷°.[✩] K-Dramas╭⟡;❤️

➷°.[✩] Reign╭⟡;👑

➷°.[✩] The Tudors╭⟡;🗡️

➷°.[✩] Hannibal╭⟡;🍽

➷°.[✩] Percy Jackson╭⟡;🌊

➷°.[✩] Harry Potter╭⟡;🔮

➷°.[✩] A Court of Thorns and Roses╭⟡;🌹

➷°.[✩] A Song of Ice and Fire╭⟡🔥

➷°.[✩] Attack on Titan╭⟡⚔️

➷°.[✩] Naruto╭⟡🍥

➷°.[✩] One Piece╭⟡👒

➷°.[✩] Death Note╭⟡📓

➷°.[✩] Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir╭⟡🐞

➷°.[✩] How To Train Your Dragon╭⟡🐲

➷°.[✩] Marvel╭⟡۞

➷°.[✩] DC Comics╭⟡🦸‍♂

➷°.[✩] Love Letters╭⟡💕

➷°.[✩] Love Letters II╭⟡💕

➷°.[✩] Kinktober 2023╭⟡🎃

➷°.[✩] 7k Special Masterlist╭⟡💌

[viperify]

AU | ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ!ᴛᴏᴍ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

˚.☾⋆✧ Blood Lust.

Short Summary: When you stir awake in the middle of the night, you notice Tom hasn’t come back home. Strange noises downstairs lead you to investigate, but what—or who—will you find as you do?

Warnings: 18+ only! Vampire!Tom, hunter and prey, biting, marking, blood play, nipple play, incredibly feral Tom Riddle, breeding kink, choking, praise, unprotected p in v, implied murder (side character).

A/N: FINALLY it’s out. Thank you so much for your patience, life’s a mess atm. Love you, always <3

wordcount: 3,2k

You wake.

Not by choice, but rather from the sound of a window shutting forcefully somewhere downstairs. You still, holding your breath as you listen intently, however, you are left waiting. All you can hear is complete silence. Silence that feels almost eerie now, in the dark. When you hear nothing suspicious for another minute, your focus shifts.

It must be around midnight, you think, and a quick look at the clock confirms your assumption.

It’s 23:50.

Then you hear it—the wind. You exhale sharply, closing your eyes again. It’s just the wind, you tell yourself. The wind must have shut a window downstairs. And just as you are about to drift off to sleep again—

Your eyes shoot open.

You had checked all the windows before going upstairs.

Your arm searches for something next to you—someone. However, a few taps later, and you realise the bed is cold and empty, sheets in the same place as they were when you went to bed.

He isn’t here. 

Or better—he hasn’t come back.

You sigh in defeat, sitting upright on the soft mattress, the silky sheets crumpling under the shift of weight on them. Your palm covers your mouth as you yawn, slipping into your slippers you placed next to the bed. Your legs carry you towards the nearby window, and you rest your hands on the ledge as you glance into the starry night sky, which is clearer than usual today.

In that moment, realisation hits you.

It’s a full moon.

Another loud noise has your body tense involuntarily, tearing you from your thoughts—this time it’s something shattering on the ground, similar to a glass. You walk towards the door, about to turn the key when your arm drops again.

Every fiber in your body tells you no—stay in bed, don’t go and check. Why would you? Tom isn’t home, and if there really was someone, he wouldn’t want you to get yourself in danger. Right?

You shake your head. But there is another voice inside of you, clearer than your own, telling you to check—

So you do.

You turn the key in the lock, pushing the handle down before peering through the gap.

Darkness.

A sense of relief washes over you, and you step outside, a small candle in your left hand lighting your way. The wooden planks creak under your feet, and you stop every few steps to listen—but all that greets you is silence, silence that carries an intimidating undertone.

Even as you walk down the stairs, there is nothing too unusual. The dim glow of your candle does little to illuminate your surroundings, and it really does a better job exposing yourself to any possible intruder than the other way around, but it’s better than nothing. Finally, you reach the lowest level of your shared home, stepping onto the cold marble floor tiles.

Tick-tock.

Tick-tock.

A shiver runs down your spine as the ticking of the living room clock has you stop momentarily, an eerie tension forming in the air, growing thicker the closer you get to it. You have been wanting to get rid of the clock for a while, telling him how irritating the ticking is, especially when you pass it at night—but he is oddly attached to it.

So you kept it.

With the help of the flickering candlelight, you are able to make out an object on the floor near the living room—your favourite vase—that had dropped and shattered into a hundred small pieces. You sigh softly, crouching down to pick up the pieces, however, soon the inevitable happens—you cut yourself.

A sharp hiss spills over your lips as the porcelain breaks your skin, a drop of blood running down your finger. You curse yourself for not being more careful, looking around to find something you can wrap around the wound.

The emergency kit. In the kitchen.

Standing back up, you make your way, though you don’t get far before your breath catches in your throat and your body freezes in place. A pair of glowing, scarlet eyes advances towards you, their intensity burning through the night’s darkness better than any candle in your possession would.

You shouldn’t be scared. It’s Tom.

However, something about his presence feels different today. The energy he radiates seems stronger, needier. More feral, more unhinged. More dangerous.

Before you know it, he is there, right in front of you.

Though the light of your candle dims when he stands before you, it doesn’t take long for you to take in the state of him. Pupils dilated wide, intently focused on you, his breath coming out in short, ragged huffs. And there is blood. So much blood. The crimson color staining his lips and chin, seeping into the white cotton fabric of his robes. His eyes wander, stopping at the bleeding cut on your finger before they trail back up—slowly.

“Tom?” you whisper, eyebrows drawn together in confusion—and fear.

He doesn’t reply.

Instead, he reaches up to your cheek, brushing over the soft skin ever so lightly, barely even touching you at all. His thumb then wanders under your chin, slowly tilting your head up so you are met with his glowing red eyes. Still, he doesn’t speak—instead, he leans in, his lips meeting yours just to place a singular, feather-light kiss on them. Enough to make you taste what he’s been up to—although you’d rather not think about it. His hand leaves your cheek, grazing over your jaw and throat until he stops at your neck, pulling you in closer.

When his fingers press down on your pulse point softly, feeling your elevated, rushed heartbeat under his touch, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. Tom’s head dips then, his hot breath skimming over your ear, the tension between the both of you building rapidly. And then, a small, an almost too silent huff leaves his lips—

“Run.”

Now, obviously, this isn’t meant to be a game for you to win. It has never been. With his heightened senses and supernatural strength, you cannot escape him, and you never will. Both of you are aware of that. But the thrill of it all—it is intoxicating for both of you. So whenever he does tell you to run—you are more than happy to obey.

So you take a step back, and his arm drops to his side. One more quick glance at him, how his chest rises and falls in anticipation, how his lips are slightly parted, revealing his sharp fangs—

And then you run, as fast as your legs carry you.

He gives you a head start, knowing you won’t make it far either way. It’s dark, but he doesn’t need light to find you. The smell of your fresh blood in the air is enough for him to locate you, even if you were a mile away. He could distinguish your blood from a thousand others, and God, he would always find you.

After all, you are still his favourite prey.

With that thought, he turns to leave the kitchen, following the soft sound of your heartbeat. He can feel how quick it beats, trying its hardest to supply your body with enough oxygen. The closer he gets to you—now walking up the stairs—the stronger the scent of your blood becomes. The more he craves you.

You shriek quietly as the door to your shared bedroom flies open, your breathing stilling in an attempt to keep him at bay for just a little longer. Though you know it’s over when you hear a low scoff from outside of your closet, the door opening as a strong hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you out.

“Too easy,” he growls, lips crashing onto yours, capturing you in a heated kiss. “Too fucking easy.” Suddenly his hands are all over your body, practically tearing your clothes off your body. The buttons of your blouse pop off the fabric, clattering as they hit the floor, rolling off. You barely have time to complain before you stand bare before him, and his hungry eyes are drinking you in.

Tom takes a step closer, and you squirm slightly as his cold hand softly trails over your delicate skin, pulling you in as he reaches your waist. “Been thinking about you all day. Now you are mine.” He purrs, smirking against your lips before he kisses you again, biting down on your lower lip, drawing a soft gasp from you.

“Who— who was it?” You breathe, gaze lowering to the bloodstains on his clothes, a sly grin forming on his face at your question.

“Remember Knockturn Alley? How his eyes lingered on you?” He answers, trailing kisses along your jaw.

Of course. What else.

You sigh. “Yes, I do.”

“Mhm.” He mumbles, lips back on yours, not giving you the chance to question him further.

Never breaking the kiss, he pushes you backwards until you are sprawled out on the now cool, silky sheets, not wasting another second before he joins you. One hand softly wrapped around your throat, he tilts your head to gain better access to your neck, his ragged breaths hot on your skin as his head dips, greedily trailing kisses along your jugular vein.

Your soft moans only seem to spur him on, sucking marks into your skin, your neck, collarbone, and breasts until you are nothing more than a whining mess beneath him. Only then does he pull back slightly, humming lowly in approval as his glowing eyes wander over the artwork of bruises he’s left behind on your skin.

He savours the way you melt under his touch, so good and pliant for him, anticipation building at the thought of finally tasting you. “Doing so well for me,” he mutters, brushing a strand of hair from your face, before dipping back down to continue his ministrations.

Then, for the first time that night, you feel his fangs on your skin, grazing over your neck ever so lightly—a gentle reminder of what’s to come, of the flaming hunger beneath his composure. Your body twitches at the contact, breath coming out shakily as you cling onto his shoulder, feeling his muscles under your touch.

A smirk creeps onto his face at your reaction, placing an open-mouthed kiss directly onto your pulse point. “So afraid,” he drawls, tilting your head just a tiny bit more, before you feel his pointed teeth again, not yet piercing your skin, but lingering, waiting.

“I am not—“ you try to defend yourself, however, his palm closes over your mouth, cutting you off.

“No more talking back.”

As his instinct takes over, you feel it. The familiar sting of his fangs sinking into the tender flesh of your neck, drawing the first drops of blood with a breathy groan as he tastes you on his tongue, some of it trickling down onto the sheets and your cleavage. A cozy warmth spreads through your body, easing the pain, intensifying the pleasure he is providing you with.

“Tom— oh God—“ you whimper, hands tangling in his brunette locks, softly tugging on his roots as he continues feeding on you, soft sucking noises filling your shared bedroom as he greedily drinks your blood, a tingling sensation spreading through your body.

But before he gets too lost in the ecstasy, he pulls back with a low growl, fangs forcefully retracting from your neck. For a moment he just glances down at you, chest heaving with ragged breaths. “Taste yourself,” he breathes, head dipping down until he’s a mere inch away from your lips. “I want you to taste yourself. How fucking sweet you taste for me.”

He doesn't give you much of a choice, because as soon as you open your mouth to voice your complaint, his lips are on yours, the metallic taste of your own blood flooding your senses. His hand tightens around your throat, cutting off just enough air to leave you dizzy, while the effects of his bite send your mind spiraling. Your knuckles turn white from how hard they are gripping the sheets, your body struggling to process the overwhelming sensations all at once.

But there is something you do notice. Very clearly even.

How painfully hard he is. How he can’t help but grind himself against you.

“T-Tom, please,” you whimper as he slowly pulls back, admiring the mess he’s left on your lips, thumb shakily swiping over them.

“You are ovulating.”

“I know, I—“

He groans. A low, almost desperate sound somewhere from the back of his throat. “Fuck, sweetheart. You know I can’t— fuck— hold back. Not when—“

Merlin help you.

Your hand is on his neck, never breaking eye contact as you pull him closer once more. Shaking your head, you place a kiss on his tensed jaw. “Don’t hold back.”

Another sharp inhale, and his hand is back around your throat, pressing down, not to restrict your airflow, because you can breathe very well—as well as you could breathe under the effect of your vampire’s bite—but rather your blood flow.

“Don’t wish for something you cannot handle,” he warns lowly, but you shake your head again. “God, Tom, please— I need you, just— take me.”

“Fuck—“

With your mind already blurry as a result of his bite, you only faintly notice the sound of his belt hitting the wooden planks of your floor with a thud, followed by the rest of his clothes. Before you realise it, he slips between your thighs, body pressing flush against yours. His lips wrap around your nipple, gently dragging his sharp teeth over the sensitive bud, drawing a sharp gasp from you at the intense sensation, which sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

It doesn’t take long until you feel him prodding at your soaked entrance, pressing another kiss to your lips before he pushes inside of you with a low groan, and it’s rough, it’s careless, mirroring his burning hunger for you. He doesn’t wait, no, he buries himself to the hilt with one singular, powerful thrust, tip brushing against your sensitive cervix, your brows drawing together at the sudden, sharp yet delicious stretch on your walls. A choked moan rips from your lips, body arching beneath him, which is apparently sign enough for him to pull back slightly, only to thrust back inside harder.

His head dips, breath hot against your neck as he continues sucking and biting marks into your skin before his fangs break through your flesh once more, a low, satisfied hum falling over his lips as he stills his hunger on his favourite human—you.

He soon sets a steady rhythm, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as his tip brushes over your most sensitive spot with every thrust. The flickering candlelight in the otherwise dark room illuminates the sharp features of his face each time he raises his head to take a breath, your blood dripping down his chin over the sides of his neck.

“Can’t get enough of you, fuck—“ he groans, picking up his pace when he hears your soft moans, his fingertips sinking into your waist, hard enough to leave bruises as he pulls you back into his thrusts, stopping your body from moving forwards with every snap of his hips.

Few things in this world can make Tom Riddle lose his self-restraint.

But the way you squeeze him so tight, walls fluttering as you try to accommodate his length, soft whimpers falling over your lips, all while the flavour of your blood has his mind spinning with pure ecstasy—certainly has him on the verge.

Because fuck—you are just so gorgeous, he thinks. Covered in his marks and his only, painting a canvas of his lust on your body, he just needs you to be his, forever. The bite would come, the bite to turn you into a vampire yourself, but for now—he’ll still savour the irreplaceable taste of your blood. Instead, he’ll make you his in other ways.

Tom’s eyes darken at the thought, lips slightly parted, and suddenly he has a desire other than satiating his primal hunger for your blood—he wants, no, needs to fill you—stake his claim on you.

You can practically feel the last bits of restraint he has left fading, messily feeding on you while he buries his cock deep within your walls with every sharp, perfectly angled snap of his hips into yours, deliciously dragging over all the right spots as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“Too much, Tom— please—“ you whimper, just as your consciousness threatens to slip, ears ringing and vision growing cloudy. He is barely able to stop himself in time from draining more of your precious blood, fangs tearing from your skin with a low, guttural groan. He tilts your head then, having you meet his strict, intense gaze. “Not yet, look at me. Fuck— look at me as I fill you up.”

Only with half-lidded eyes do you manage to do so, legs weakly wrapped around him as he takes what he needs, mercilessly slipping in and out of you, his brunette curls sticking to his damp forehead as he chases his release.

“You are going to be good for me and take it,” he pants, thrusts growing more erratic as you feel him twitch inside of you.

“Every.” thrust “Last.” thrust “Drop.” thrust

“Yes— fuck please, Tom.” You gasp, and with a few more sharp snaps of his hips, he spills his release deep inside of you, groaning lowly as he paints your walls with thick, white ropes of his cum.

You too come undone with a weak shudder of your body, your walls fluttering around his length, hands slipping from his shoulders. Pleasure and pain melt into one, stars dancing in front of your eyes as your vision grows blurrier with each passing second.

Tom lets you regain your consciousness, staying situated between your thighs, his cock still buried deep within your walls as he gently laps his tongue against the puncture wounds on your neck, cleaning most of the dried crimson liquid from your skin.

The next thing you remember is his fingertips tenderly massaging shampoo into your scalp, warm water surrounding your sore body as he has you resting against his chest in the bathtub. The scent of fresh rose petals and orchids fills your nostrils with a deep breath of yours. You hum softly, eyes fluttering closed again, letting him take care of you.

A flicker of satisfaction sparks in his eyes as he dries you off in front of a mirror, gently patting the towel over the bite marks and bruises he’s left all over your cleavage.

“So gorgeous, covered in my marks. And all mine.”

“All yours.”

tags: @belladonnaheartsthemoon, @riddlebella, @jo1818

—

thank you for reading! <3 feedback and reblogs are appreciated. 💜

[harrystyleshotwife]

Hi, I kinda have an idea I’ve been tossing around, briefly considered attempting to write it myself, but yeah, I’m not great at pulling plot twists, etc, so Im throwing it out here, maybe you can do it justice! First, I have to say that I absolutely MUST have a decent degree of angst - but nothing too bad that it seems too unforgivable, because a happy ending is nonnegotiable (well, for me anyway, those are my own personal rules).

So MC is a single mom with a baby/toddler, and for whatever reason she’s had to move to a new town where she doesn’t really know anyone, so to make new friends she joins a mommy/me playgroup - where she meets Gemma & her baby girl and the two are instant friends, which is how she’s eventually introduced to Harry. Of course their chemistry is off the charts, resulting in a strangers to friends to lovers thing. BUT, at the time he’s just stared filming DWD. And here comes the angst…because Olivia def had her sights set on Harry & shes just manipulative enough to play dirty for what she wants…and after Harry turns her down or whatever by explaining that he’s kinda seeing someone, who Olivia finds out is you & she ain’t having it! It’s only after she overhears Harry talking to someone about Y/N, how they met, the mommy group, etc…there’s her in - she immediately signs up for the play group but with a plan: get rid of you by sewing discord by any means necessary, befriend Gemma so she can get to Harry….so, yeah. That’s all I’ve got so far, do with it what you will ;)

Strangers, Playdates, and a Bit of Trouble

Warnings: nothing but angst basically

———

The move was supposed to be a fresh start.

She kept reminding herself of that as she unpacked the last of the boxes in her tiny apartment, Ava babbling to herself in the corner while scattering puzzle pieces across the floor. No one told her starting over would feel so lonely. She loved her daughter more than anything, but the silence that filled the space when Ava napped? That silence hit different.

It didn’t help that she didn’t know anyone here. No family nearby. No friends. Just her, Ava, and a GPS that still got her lost half the time.

So, when she stumbled across a post about a local mommy-and-me group, she didn’t hesitate. She figured it’d be good for Ava—and maybe even good for her, too.

The first meeting was overwhelming in that overstimulated, sticky-hands, Goldfish-on-the-floor kind of way. But then came Gemma.

Warm, welcoming, and refreshingly blunt, Gemma immediately made her feel seen. The two moms clicked in that way that mattered—through shared exhaustion, similar routines, and toddlers who instantly became best friends. There were coffee dates, long talks, laughter that felt like exhaling after months of holding her breath.

Everything started to settle into place. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like she was drowning.

Then, she met him.

It was meant to be a normal drop-off at Gemma’s—Ava and Lily having another playdate—but Gemma wasn’t there. Her brother was.

She knew the name before she saw the face. Harry Styles. And yeah, she’d seen the photos, the articles, the internet chatter. But none of it prepared her for how normal he looked standing barefoot in sweatpants, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he opened the door.

“Hey,” he said, voice still rough from sleep. “Come in. They’re inside—tearing the place apart.”

He was easy to talk to. Surprisingly so. They ended up chatting longer than they needed to, and when it was time to go, she didn’t really want to leave.

He started showing up more after that. Always casual. Friendly. Sweet with the kids. He and Ava got along like they’d known each other forever. But beneath it all, there was something unspoken building between them—long glances, lingering touches, conversations that went a little deeper than they probably should’ve.

It turned into something before either of them said it out loud.

A quiet night on Gemma’s back porch, stars overhead, both of them just sitting there after the kids fell asleep. He kissed her like he’d been thinking about it for weeks. And she let herself believe, for the first time in a long time, that maybe something good was happening.

But things got complicated fast.

Because a few weeks later, he left to film Don’t Worry Darling.

And Olivia Wilde noticed him.

At first, it didn’t bother her. She trusted him. He texted every night. Called when he could. But then things started to change. The calls got shorter. The texts less frequent. He was tired. Busy. “Just dealing with stuff on set,” he said.

She tried to be understanding.

Until Olivia showed up at the mommy group.

Smiling. Effortless. Charming in a way that felt too polished.

“I just moved to the area,” she said sweetly. “Figured this group would be a great way to meet some moms.”

And she was nice—too nice. Overly friendly. But there was something in her eyes that felt off. Calculated. The way she glanced at her. The way she mentioned Harry a little too casually in front of the others.

It wasn’t long before things started shifting.

Other moms began treating her differently—standoffish, subtle judgment in their glances. Whispers that stopped when she walked into the room. Gemma seemed distant too, like she wasn’t sure what to believe.

She confronted her.

“What’s going on?” she asked one day after group. “Everyone’s acting weird.”

Gemma looked uncomfortable. “Olivia’s been saying stuff. I don’t know how much is true. She said… she and Harry had a thing.”

Her stomach dropped.

“She said what?”

“That you were just a rebound,” Gemma said quietly. “That he’s been seeing her. That he never told her about you, or Ava.”

It felt like someone knocked the air out of her.

She didn’t believe it. Did she?

But the doubt was there now, whispering in her ear.

So she called him.

It rang. And rang. And rang.

No answer.

She stared at the phone for a long time, wondering how something that felt so good could fall apart so quickly.

She didn’t want to fight.

She hated fighting.

It started with a text.

From a number she didn’t recognize.

“I’m sorry you had to find out like this. He told me you weren’t serious. I never would’ve let things go that far if I knew you had a baby at home.”

– O

She stared at the message for a long time. Long enough for Ava to pull at her sleeve, long enough for her stomach to twist and turn until the room felt too small.

It was a lie. It had to be. But the doubt hit her like a sucker punch.

Because Olivia was calculated like that. She didn’t make moves without motive. And this? This was intentional.

She texted Harry. Can we talk?

She didn’t expect a reply, because he ignored her calls just hours earlier.

But he showed up. Hood up, cap on. Eyes tired.

“You okay?” he asked, stepping inside. “You look—”

“Did you sleep with her?” she cut in, voice sharper than she wanted, but trembling with restrained fury.

He froze. “What?”

“Olivia. Did you sleep with her?”

His brows pulled together. “No. What—where is this coming from?”

“She messaged me, Harry.” She shoved the phone toward him, her chest tight. “Said you told her we weren’t serious. That you didn’t even tell her I had a kid.”

He read the text, jaw locking as he passed the screen back to her.

“That’s bullshit,” he said tightly. “I never said that. I didn’t touch her.”

“Then why does she think you did?” she demanded. “Why does she know anything about us at all?”

“Because she overheard me talking about you!” he snapped, more frustrated than angry. “She put two and two together and decided to blow it up. That’s what she does. She twists things.”

She stared at him, voice hollow. “And you didn’t think to tell me she might try something like this?”

“I didn’t think she’d go that far.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “That’s rich. Because I did. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. I watched her embed herself in my life—my friends, our group—just so she could come between us.”

His expression shifted, like he finally realized the damage that had been done.

“Hey… look at me,” he said, stepping closer. “You know me. You know I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“But you didn’t tell her about me,” she said softly, wounded. “Not really. Not when it counted.”

“That’s not true.”

“She knew I existed. But not who I was to you. Not enough for her to back off.”

“I kept things quiet because I didn’t want to bring attention to us,” he admitted, eyes pleading. “Not because I was hiding you. I was trying to protect what we have.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m the only one who’s been protecting it?”

That landed.

The silence that followed was thick. Harry stepped back like the weight of it was too much.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he said quietly.

She swallowed hard. “Maybe you can’t.”

Ava’s laughter rang out from the other room—completely unaware, beautifully innocent.

Harry’s eyes flicked in that direction, then back to her. “Please don’t shut me out.”

“I have to think about her,” she whispered. “About what kind of environment I’m bringing her into. I can’t have this chaos in her life.”

“I’m not chaos,” he said, brokenly. “I love you.”

“I want to believe that,” she said, voice cracking. “But right now, I don’t even know what to believe.”

He didn’t argue. Didn’t push.

He just nodded—defeated.

And then he left.

⸻

For three days, they didn’t speak.

She cried more than she’d admit. Ava asked where Harry was every morning, and she had to smile through it, lie through it. She missed him—ached for him—but her pride wouldn’t let her reach out.

Then Gemma showed up on her doorstep.

“You’re both being idiots,” she said, blunt as ever. “He’s miserable. And you’re in love with him.”

She didn’t deny it.

“You don’t walk away from something like this,” Gemma added, softer. “Not when it’s real. Not when you know he didn’t cheat.”

⸻

When he finally came back, it wasn’t with flowers or some grand gesture. He just stood at her door, exhausted and quiet.

“I was scared,” he said. “Of screwing it up. Of not being good enough for you—or for Ava.”

She stepped aside, let him in. They didn’t say much after that.

They didn’t have to.

⸻

Eventually, the truth came out. Olivia left the group. Left the movie early, too—something “schedule-related,” the press said. But they knew better.

Gemma apologized. The other moms softened again. Life slowly, slowly began to feel normal.

And through it all, Harry stayed. And that was all she needed.

[harrywavycurly]

Sarah I’m drooling over how sweet vamprry is!! What if reader is having a dream 😏 about him and he comes over and helps take care of her?🤤🤤❤️

Hiii babes!! I love this omg🫠 I hope you like it and I’m so happy you like how sweet he is!!🥹💖

Find part 1 here✨

CW: Dirty talk, smut (unprotected sex, light fingering), Harry’s a vampire (just in case you didn’t know lol).

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: Harry hears you saying his name while dreaming ✨

Harry is walking down the street, just a few houses away from yours when his ears pick up the faint sound of your voice, not sensing any panic or uneasiness in your tone he doesn’t think anything of it and just assumes you’re talking to yourself while reading or mumbling your thoughts while watching one of your horrible reality shows. He’s running a hand through his hair when he hears it again, he still can’t quite make out what you’re saying but this time he can sense there’s a hint of urgency to your voice and that’s when he smells it, your usual sweet scent mixed with something else that has his shaft twitching in his trousers.

Sooner than what would seem possible to anyone that wasn’t Harry, his feet are hitting the bottom step of your front porch and your house key is in his hand ready to unlock your door. When he steps inside he notices all the lights are off minus the one lamp in the living room you keep on just for him, because of the time he nearly broke your coffee table when he ran into it during a late night visit.

“Harry.” He stops in his tracks as your quiet mumble hits his ears telling him exactly where you’re at in the house.

He shrugs off his jacket and tosses it over the back of your couch and toes off his shoes before he makes his way to the hallway your bedroom is on. His fingers make quick work of unbuttoning his black dress shirt letting it hang open as he walks towards your bedroom door that’s cracked open. Harry smiles when he slips quietly into the room sitting in the chair that faces your bed where you’re laying on your back in just a t shirt, he takes in how rumpled your sheets are and the way you’ve managed to kick your covers to the opposite of your bed letting him get a full view of your sleeping body. He knows sometimes you struggle to get comfortable and can be a bit wiggly in your sleep but this is something different, he just can’t piece it together yet.

“Oh-oh Harry.” Harry’s brow quirk as you stir a bit while his name falls from your lips in a whispered moan and that’s when it clicks for him, you’re dreaming about him. He stands up and slips off his dress shirt, tossing it onto the chair and just as he goes to unbutton his pants you begin to stir again. “Please-want you.” Your soft voice comes out like a hushed whine, Harry watches intently as one of your hands grip the sheets while your hips jerk just the slightest.

Harry can’t help the smirk that creeps onto his face as he watches you dream about him, the sound of your soft whines and breathy moans going straight to his already hardening cock. His eyes never leave your body, hungrily traveling up from your thighs to your soft hips up to your breast and by the time they land on your plump lips his pants are in a pile on the floor near the foot of your bed and he’s carefully crawling over you. He hovers over your body and smiles when you let out the softest little whimper almost as if your body can sense him and are upset he hasn’t touched you yet.

He leans down and ever so gently places his lips on the side of your jaw, leaving featherlight kisses as they travel down to your neck. The moan you let out has Harry’s length twitching, his lips are right next to your ear as he slots his knee between your thighs.

“Hi my love.” He whispers before kissing down the side of your neck, he feels your hand grab his arm giving him a squeeze as if check to feel if he’s really in bed with you or if you’re still dreaming.

“Harry?” Your voice is thick as you open your eyes, with a smile Harry pulls back so he can look at you. “You’re here?”

“Yes my love. I’m here.” He answers before pressing his lips to yours in a hungry kiss, your arms are wrapping around his neck as his tongue slips into your mouth. You let out a moan that Harry just swallows as he deepens the kiss while his hand slides down your side and pushes your t shirt up just enough for him to notice you’re not wearing anything underneath it. “This all for me?” He asks when he pulls away, leaving you trying to catch your breath as his hand slips between your thighs.

“Y-yes.” You pant, feeling Harry’s index finger teasing your already soaked folds. His emerald green eyes turn dark as he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, licking and sucking at the spot below your ear while he teasingly circles the tip of his finger around your wet center.

“Could hear you saying my name-moaning for me while you were asleep.” He mumbles between kisses down to your chest, you spread your legs silently inviting him to settle himself between them. “Could smell your sweet little cunt all the way down the street baby-is that why you were calling out for me hmmm? Feeling needy?” His voice is teasing as your hands travel down his back, trying to pull him closer but he’s much stronger than you so he doesn’t budge.

“Tried to-to take care of myself.” You say with a moan when you feel his finger push into you. Harry smiles against the soft fabric of your shirt as your body trembles underneath him when he starts to slowly pump his finger in and out of you.

“How did that go my love? Did those pretty fingers of yours make you feel good?” You shake your head as his eyes land on yours, a small pout forms on your lips when he slides his finger out of your warm wetness.

“No I-I needed more needed you.” You tell him with a frustrated sigh, Harry lets out a dark chuckle as you dramatically wrap your legs around him and try to pull him closer to you, he lets out a soft hum against your skin and indulges you and lets you pull him closer to your body.

“My sweet girl needs me huh?” His voice is soft and feels like being wrapped up in velvet as he rolls his hips downwards so you can feel his hard length beneath his boxers as it rubs against your puffy clit that’s still sensitive from your own thumb being pressed against it earlier.

“Please Harry.” You beg as your hands travel to the waistband of his boxers and when his lips find their way to your jaw you quickly begin pushing them down until they’re low enough he can kick them off to the floor.

“So wet already baby.” He moans as the tip of his cock runs up and down your folds before pressing at your entrance.

“Oh fuck-oh god.” Harry nips at the side of your neck as he pushes his thick cock into you, the feeling of him pushing into you making your eyes close and your hands claw into his shoulders at the familiar stretch as you adjust to his size.

“That’s it sweetheart just relax.” His hand reaches down and grabs one of your legs and bends it at the knee letting him push himself deeper into your wet cunt. “I know it’s a lot-doing so good my love.” He praises as he bottoms out with one last slow push, you let out a deep moan as your eyes snap open and your heart feels like it’s going to burst right out of your chest, loving the feeling of being so overwhelmingly full of him.

“Harry I need-”

“I know baby.” He cuts you off and begins moving his hips in a slow delicate pace. “This what you were dreaming about? My cock being buried deep inside you like this?”

“Oh god.” You feel your walls clench around him as his thrusts quicken making the tip of his cock hit that spongey spot deep inside you that has your toes curling and a soft cry of his name tumbling out of your mouth.

“Love the sounds you make when I’m fucking you like this.” You feel his hand grab your other leg and hike it over his hip as his thrusts get harder, more determined. “Been thinking of this all night baby-having you scream my name while I fuck my big cock into your tight little pussy until you’re a perfect little mess for me.”

“Don’t stop Harry-please please don’t stop.” Your words are muffled by the sound of your bed creaking with each powerful thrust of Harry’s hips, each one sending you closer and closer to the edge as you feel the pressure begin to build in your lower belly.

“Tell me my sweet girl is this better than your dream?” You feel his breath on your neck, you instinctively turn your head letting him have more access. He takes a long inhale through his nose and lets out a groan at how sweet you smell, you let out a squeak as he gives you a harsh thrust making your headboard bump against the wall.

“So-oh god so much better.” You pant between harsh thrusts, your hands grabbing at the smooth muscles of his back trying to ground yourself to him as he pounds into you. “Harry I’m so-”

“I know baby I can feel you squeezing me.” Your eyes flutter closed as his hand slides between your bodies, this thumb pressing tight circles on your clit. “Oh that’s what you needed wasn’t it sweetheart?” His voice is rough but still has a softness to it as your hips jerk trying to meet his determined thrusts.

“Yes yes just like that-oh god oh god.” Harry licks at your neck before gently sinking his teeth into your soft flesh just as he feels you clench and pulse around him, your release hitting you hard. You feel his lips sucking at your neck as you get hit with wave after wave of blissful pleasure.

“So fucking perfect.” He murmurs against your skin as he licks over the small bite mark on your neck as he pumps his thick cock in and out of your soaking wet pussy, fucking you through your orgasm. “Where do you want it baby? I’m-fuck I’m close.”

“Want you to fill me up.” You say with a moan as he increases the pressure his thumb has on your clit. Harry lets out a deep throaty moan as his thrusts become quicker, his bruising grip on your thigh keeping your leg perfectly situated over his hip so he can reach deeper with each thrust until your crying out his name and he smiles against your neck when he feels your walls flutter around his thick shaft.

“Give me one more my love and I’ll fill your sweet little cunt up-make you sleep with me dripping down your legs so you’ll think of me when you wake up in the morning.” His words send you spiraling over the edge as his thumb presses down onto your sensitive bundle of nerves making you squirm underneath him.

“H-Harry I can’t-it’s too much.” You whine making Harry pull away so he can stare into your eyes as his thrusts become slower and more controlled.

“You can baby I can feel how close you are-just let go for me sweet girl and I’ll give you what you want.” His eyes burn into yours before his lips catch yours in a passionate kiss. His tongue licks your bottom lip before sliding against yours, you feel him pull out to just the tip before slowly sliding back in but only half way and pulling out again just to slam back into you, teasing you as he feels your walls begin to clench around him. “Just like that baby-yes that’s it oh you feel so good coming on my cock baby.” He says with a moan when he pulls away leaving your lips red and kiss swollen.

“Oh-oh yes.” Your eyes close and your back arches as Harry gives you a few hard thrusts before his warm load is pumping deep inside of you, coating your walls in his release as he lets out a deep moan of your name.

“Take it all my love- it’s all for you.” He moans as his thrusts slow down as you pulse and squeeze around him, milking him of every last drop. “Fuck baby I want to be inside you all night.” He feels your chest vibrate as you let out a breathy laugh.

“And you call me greedy.” You tease as he moves his thumb from your clit, he gives you a smile as he brushes some hair out of your face.

“You are greedy.” He tells you before placing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m inherently a selfish creature so it shouldn’t shock you that I don’t want to leave the place that brings me so much pleasure.” You open your mouth to say something but Harry gives you a roll of his hips, his cock already twitching inside of you. “Could just stay inside this sweet little cunt all night-rock you to sleep with the slow thrusts of my cock fucking this tight wet pussy. Doesn’t that sound good baby?”

“Yes but-”

“I know my love.” He leans down and kisses your temple as he slowly pulls out. “You have a busy day tomorrow. Maybe another time then?” He shoots you a playful wink as he rolls over so he’s on his back next to you.

“I’m free this weekend.” You say with a smile making Harry grin as he pulls you into his chest.

“I love you.” He mumbles against the top of your head as his arms wrap around you like a protective cage that you always feel safe in.

“I love you too Harry.” He smiles as you place a kiss to his bare chest. “Could you really hear and smell me from down the street?” Harry lets out a laugh as he pulls you even closer, you rest your head on his chest and drape an arm over him.

“Yes but that’s because I’m always listening for you but the smell-well that’s what brought me to you in the first place isn’t it? I’d be able to pick up your scent from across the city my love.”

“Oh god you can smell when I’m-I’m in the mood?”

“Yes.” He answers casually making you try to hide your embarrassment but Harry just soothingly runs his strong hands up and down your arms.

“No need to worry about things like that okay? Just know I’ll always be able to find you but especially if you’re feeling a little-needy.”

“I guess that’s good to know.” You say with a small yawn making Harry chuckle at how soft and cuddly you get when sleepy, your hands clinging to him as if you’re worried he’d try to leave the spot he’s currently in.

“Go to sleep baby.” He whispers in your ear in that velvety soft voice that has your eyes closing and a soft hum leaving your lips.

“Goodnight.” You mumble as he gently reaches over for your comforter so he can drape it over the two of you. He smiles when he feels your breathing turn more regular and you let the full weight of your body rest against him, all signs that you’ve fallen asleep.

“Goodnight my sweet girl.” He places a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m so glad I finally found you my love. Have sweet dreams of me.” His voice is soft and barely above a whisper. He leans his head back against your soft pillow as his hands continue to rub up and down your arms, content to stay like this until he has to slip away a few hours before you wake up and the sun rises but with a sweet note and a promise of seeing you that evening left on your coffee maker where he knows you’ll see it and a fresh rose resting on your kitchen island.

[riddlesrizzler]

vampire! mattheo 

Deep in the Underworld, where shadows coil like living things and the air hums with dark magic, vampire! mattheo reigns as one of its most feared rulers. A vampire of immense power, he is a creature of the night, bound to the darkness that birthed him. His presence alone is enough to send lesser creatures cowering. Cloaked in midnight, he moves with an unnatural grace, his very existence woven into the fabric of nightmares. Blood is his sustenance, his pleasure, his curse-he emerges only under the veil of night to hunt, leaving no trace but the hollowed remains of those unfortunate enough to cross his path. His rule is absolute, his mercy nonexistent. Among the damned, his name is spoken in hushed reverence, a legend of death and hunger that none dare challenge. The Underworld caves to his will, and in the mortal realm, he is but a whisper in the dark, a fleeting shadow at the edge of one's vision. His heart as cold as the grave he once rose from. He is eternal, an undying force of darkness, and the night will always belong to him.

works

- over and over again

[pzyii]

au!core three or something