#just this beyond pretty and handsome vampire | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fayes-fics · 1 year ago

Text

Enthralled

Pairings: Vampire!Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader x Thomas Dorset

Summary: You and your new husband invite a handsome stranger to your rooms, but all is not as it seems...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, dom/sub undertones, bisexual male characters, slash content, oral sex (f to m, m to m, m to f) blow jobs, deepthroat w smidge of breathplay, facesitting, edging/orgasm control, vaginal sex, anal sex, simultaneous penetration, multiple orgasms, biting, bloodplay, blood-drinking.

Word Count: 9k

Authors Note: The reader remix of this story. A gothic-ish Halloween threesome with Vampire!Benedict. This is my first foray into writing slash content. If you are looking for a plot or backstory, this will likely disappoint; it's just an excuse for vaguely spooky, unrelenting smut - I cannot celebrate a holiday any other way lol. I wanted to choose a minor show character as the husband, and Dr Dorset screams secretly adventurous to me. Please heed the warnings above; this is pretty full-on. If you proceed, I hope you enjoy! <3

Credits: Thanks to @colettebronte for advice and betaing and @eleanor-bradstreet for her Vampiric expertise. Artwork includes edits made weeks ago for this story by our dearly departed @bridgertontess. Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Benedict smells it long before he ever sees you.

Fresh blood, sweet young bodies in the flushes of arousal; it makes him hungry in every sense of the word. The almost painful need to feast and fuck. He inhales deep, lewdly, letting the tempting scents fill his being. He pulls on his cloak and goes out to find you.

—

Mrs Dorset.

You practice the name, sitting at the vanity table of your rooms at the inn, feeling cosy in the soft candlelight glow as the autumnal wind howls portentously beyond the window. The quill scratches the paper as you loop the letters, learning the structure of your new name as it flows under your hand.

“What are you doing, my love?” Thomas rounds behind you, returning to your rooms with steaming hot tea as promised.

“I am practising my new name,” you reply proudly, twisting to look up at your husband of merely two days as he places aside the tea tray, squeezing your shoulders lightly.

“Oh, I see, that is… well, that is wonderful,” his cadence wavering. It seems as if he is embarrassed at how something as simple as your desire to write his name could make him burn physically, the glistening, dark, looped strokes causing a primal wash of possession. His fingers flex instinctually, mapping your collarbone, your flesh irresistible under his fingertips. You squeak as he rocks his body into your back, something insistent pressing into your spine.

“Husband,” you drawl, meeting his eye in the vanity mirror. “Are you aroused?” Your question isn't judgemental, but pure curiosity and desire, leaning back into him.

“Yes, darling wife. You have my name. It is…. Appealing,” he answers honestly, a touch winded, his fingers trailing lower over your warm skin onto the swell of your breast.

Your eyes flash in the reflection, and then suddenly, you spin around on the stool and bury your face into his trousers, nuzzling his hardness. His growl is deep and wracked. So utterly undone by how forthright you can be with your intentions.

You look up at him, fluttering your eyelids as you pluck open his trousers determinedly, push down his underwear, and wrap your hands around the back of his thighs to draw him even closer. Immediately you encase his tasty warm cock in your mouth, so very keen for him.

He groans to the ceiling as if disbelieving in his luck.

—

Benedict finds himself outside the quaint country inn barely a quarter mile from his country home. No wonder he could smell it so strong.

As he stares up at a mullioned window, russet leaves swirling around his feet on this cold, crisp night, he sees the glowing candlelight signifying the room’s occupation. Indeed, it is the only one lit as such on the first floor. He surmises the couple are likely newlyweds, perhaps passing through the area on their honeymoon—the first ones who have done so since he was turned a few months back.

While he has trained himself on the scent of the people in the proximal area and taught himself they are not food, he is powerless to resist this. Them. From scent alone, they are in their twenties, and right now, they are engaging in something carnal. He can smell ripe juices swirling in the air along with the thronging of their hearts, blood coursing. It makes his cock strain painfully against the wool of his britches.

He never used to be like this—a creature of such base instinct. Yes, when human, he had his fair share of lovers of all persuasions, but it had been an occasional bacchanalian indulgence. Now. Now, he can barely contain himself. His tongue licks around the point of his fang, tasting the air, knowing without a doubt they will be under his thrall within moments of meeting and lost in a temporary reverie of how he will enjoy them.

—

“Y/n….” it’s throaty, raw, wrecked, a hand buried in your locks.

His taste is strong in your mouth as Thomas flops back upon the bed, utterly sated after he finds completion. You had pushed him backwards from the vanity table onto the edge of the bed and sunk to your knees before him, eagerly taking him into your mouth, motions wanton, brazen, your skill and enthusiasm blossoming under his few days of tutelage. Learning his body and needs; learning to use your tongue in ways that make him breathless and unerringly grateful.

You delicately wipe your chin of his seed with a handkerchief and rise to your feet as gracefully as you can as he lays there panting, staring at the velvet drapes over the four-poster bed, his mind blanked out from pleasure.

“Husband,” you coo in a light tease, “I do believe it is now time we took dinner; 'tis nearing 7pm.”

Thomas pouts, looking as if he wants to feast only upon you, not mere food. The grumble in his stomach, though, gives away his status, and your giggle makes him sit up reluctantly, tucking himself back into his trousers and righting his clothes.

“I suppose sustenance is required,” he smiles indulgently, standing up and wrapping you in his arms. “If only to provide energy for our later activities,” he adds teasingly into your ear; a light shiver runs through your being as he says it.

“Then let us eat, Dr Dorset,” you murmur into his jaw, running a hand down his waistcoat. Feeling light as air, you gigglingly tumble down the hallway and staircase to the public house below, wrapped up in each other’s arms, barely noticing the tall, cloaked figure as it slips in through the main door.

—

Benedict nods to Jenkins, the publican and innkeeper behind the bar; locals always having an open invitation to drink and dine any night of the week. Tonight, the public house is deserted save for a regular - drunkard Willie, propping up the corner of the bar as ever - and the newlywed couple now ensconced in an alcove by the roaring fireplace.

He sets eyes upon you both properly, and his insides almost feel warm. You are both beautiful in ways that make him ache. The man is tall, fair of face and built handsomely. You are just his type of woman physically with a spirited mien that looks like you would be the very best kind of challenge to tame. He longs to strip you both naked and run his tongue down your healthy contours, revel in your bodies, coursing with life.

Taking the brandy awaiting him on the bar, he glides towards you, flicking up his velvet collar as he does so, knowing of his powers and how to wield them to his advantage when needs must.

“Welcome to Wiltshire,” his opening gambit, smooth and dusky, raising his glass.

Both you and Thomas look up, startled at a handsome stranger’s interruption to your intimate conversation. Still, Benedict doesn't miss for a second how both of your eyes dilate rapidly.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Thomas Dorset stumbles, raising his glass without thought in a silent responding toast.

“Please call me Benedict. May I join you?” his ask is unfaulteringly polite, but with a lopsided grin, he has long learned is his ticket to everything he may want in this world.

Dorset immediately gestures for him to do so, despite himself, and Benedict slides smoothly onto the bench seat across from them with a dramatic swish of his ample velvet cloak.

“And you are?” he smiles at you both expectantly.

“Oh, where are my manners!?” Thomas decries as if snapping back to reality. “I am Dr Thomas Dorset, and this,” his arm wraps tighter around your shoulders, “is my wonderful new wife, Mrs y/n Dorset.”

You smile at Benedict; he can sense your apprehension at this stranger joining them but also hears your heart fluttering just a fraction harder as he meets your gaze. Can smell the uptick in your bodily response, a new tang to your natural scent that speaks of piqued interest. He knows with just a few well-deployed lingering looks and chosen words, he could throw you over the table right here in front of your husband and fuck you so well you would beg him for more. Again, he is grateful for the cloak he wears, hiding the bulge in his clothing that has barely slaked since your arrival to the area.

“It is so wonderful to meet you both,” he drawls, running a finger over his bottom lip to draw attention to his mouth. If you stare long enough, the thrall will be so easy. “What brings you to our fine village?”

“We are passing through on our way to Cornwall for our honeymoon,” Dorset confirms what Benedict already suspected.

“This is rather off the beaten path to such a place,” Benedict states dryly with a wink, knowing he is reeling you in with every word he utters.

“Indeed,” Thomas concedes, “my new wife insisted we come via this route to allow us to call upon her sister during our journey.”

Benedict smiles, subtly scenting your bodies as you and Thomas lean in without realising, falling under his spell.

“Well then, I insist I purchase your dinner and drinks this evening,” he declares, watching bemused as you both attempt to remonstrate. “I will not accept no for an answer,” he appends, victory glowing as you acquiesce, not realising this will be the first of many permissions you will grant him tonight, all being well.

—

You chew upon the venison slowly, one eye on your additional party, still unsure why he has chosen to join you and, indeed, pay for your meal when he apparently is not eating himself. Engaging you in conversation that seems peculiarly beguiling and dangerous all at once.

He is undoubtedly attractive. Hazy blue eyes under a mass of chestnut hair, a pale-skinned face with exquisite sharp lines. Feeling guilty to admit it silently, you find him just as attractive as your husband, maybe more so—something so hypnotic in how he holds himself, moves, and speaks. Finding yourself drawn to him, a stirring in your underwear that you swear he can sense. Every time a little frisson runs through your body, his head unerringly swings towards you, a slight curl in his luscious lip, like he is smelling your arousal and thinks it the tastiest treat in the world.

You could swear he is trying to steal you from your husband - and to your horror, you realise you would absolutely let him - except… his attention is just as rapt upon Thomas. Benedict’s gaze is just as covetous when he speaks. His tongue flicks the corner of his mouth as your husband casually leans back and crosses his legs—as if Benedict is scenting his body, too. It's confusing but intoxicating, as if your wine is laced with a far more potent substance.

—

Benedict knows he has won you both over before you put down your dessert spoons, now hanging on his every word.

“Let us repair to somewhere more intimate for a nightcap,” he suggests, and your joint responding consent is instant. “How about your rooms here at the Inn?”

Were you in your sound, sober minds, it seems unlikely you would invite a stranger to your rooms, but as it is, you enthusiastically do. Benedict snags the remainder of the brandy bottle from the bar as he settles the bill.

“Friends of yours?” Jenkins frowns, vaguely intrigued.

“Everyone is a friend yet to be made, Jenkins,” Benedict answers, intentionally vague.

Jenkins rolls his eyes. “Bloody poets…” he is heard to mutter under his breath, but Benedict lets it pass. If the man invoked the name Byron, perhaps he wouldn't have. Might have stolen a chicken or two from the coup outside to exsanguinate in revenge.

Benedict trails behind you, both pleasantly inebriated now, holding the wood panelling as you negotiate the narrow corridors of the inn to your rooms, inhibitions lowered. He knows you are just in that sweet spot where you will be so open to suggestions but not so out of your minds to be a pointless fuck, unable to respond. There is nothing less appealing to him than a lifeless, limp, unconscious being. Yes, easy to feed upon, perhaps, but no challenge. The only thrill he gets these days is that of the chase. Of the crackling potential of any moment, human hearts beating wildly in his presence, blood pumping hard—that is what brings him exhilaration.

—

Dorset fumbles the heavy iron key in the lock, leaning into you as you giggle along with him. The attractive, imposing man stood patiently behind you, seemingly sober, which is impressive given he drank more than you both. Still unsure what is possessing him to allow this, Thomas nevertheless feels compelled to do this man’s bidding, to allow this whatever he wishes.

It may be a secret he has kept from you, but Dorset is not immune to the charms of a handsome man. In his youthful days at Cambridge, he had many a clandestine encounter with his fellow students. Late drunken nights of experimentation. He knows the power of a man’s touch, enjoying the taboo feeling of being taken roughly, clawing the mattress as he is mounted without mercy. A man's body may differ greatly from a woman’s, but it is no less of an attractive wonderland.

Little does he know just how soon you will learn of that predilection.

—

You twirl around the room as the men take a seat and pour more liquor, feeling ebullient, basking in the heat of the fire on this cold autumn night, dizzy and fizzling with energy. You feel the gaze of both men, knowing both track your moments from the wingtip chairs they inhabit. Your insides feel ripe and pulpy, compelling you to be daring, a peculiar impulse to strip and dance naked in front of them.

There must have been something in my drink. Surely?

Your husband interrupts just as you think to act.

“Darling, come sit with us,” Thomas appeals, patting his knee enticingly.

He would never typically invite you to sit upon him in the company of a stranger, but everything about tonight feels different, so you allow yourself to be swept into it. To see what may arise with the handsome, mysterious visitor.

You float over and sigh as you fall into Thomas’ lap, the heat of his leg seeping through your dress, warming your bottom. He pulls you snugly into his lap, bumping a stirring hardness and without a doubt, you know this evening will go somewhere you never expected…. And yet, you can't wait for it to do so.

“Isn't my wife beautiful?” Dorset slurs, his breath hot on your ear, turning you both to face Benedict in the chair next to you as if he is seeking his approval for his choice of spouse.

“Indeed she is,” Benedict responds, dark and silky, a shiver tracing down your spine as he voices it. “As are you handsome, good sir,” he adds, and you know they are very much out of your depth as you feel the same shudder pass through your husband's being beneath you.

Oh, good lord, who is this man?

—

Benedict sees you reacting to his voice, sees the ripple in your beings, hears it in your breathing, and knows he has you fully enthralled. You are his to do precisely as he wants now. Tumbling images flash through his mind as to how he can have both of your bodies—sweat and skin, blood and bone, moving together in a carnal symphony.

His instinct is to take you and then your husband. He can see the willingness there, but he’ll need more enticing to allow that dormant flame to be relit. Perhaps watching you, his new wife, give yourself so readily will be just the nudge he needs to submit, also.

So when Thomas turns to Benedict, offering you on the plate that is his lap, he decides this is the moment to strike. Downing the rest of his glass, he stands and tugs at the string of his velvet cape, which falls to the floor with a heavy whump… to reveal his fitted cropped jacket and tight britches, tailored in black fabric like a second skin, giving away everything about what he has to offer.

He hears your sharp inhales at the unmistakable tented outline.

“Desire is such a funny thing, is it not?” he rumbles, moving closer, and your legs fall apart on instinct, the air suddenly filled with a potent scent of your arousal that makes his tongue itch to taste.

“In what way?” Thomas hitches, his hands grabbing your waist reflexively as Benedict can hear his heartbeat in his breathy cadence.

“You both want me, and yet you offer your wife to me first,” Benedict assesses cooly, raising an eyebrow as he takes a step closer, watching you squirm as your eyes are transfixed on his cock.

“I did nothing of the sor…” Thomas’s response dies on the spot as one long, slender finger lands on his lips, hushing him, a sharp fingernail resting under his nose.

“We both know you did,” Benedict argues laconically, “And lucky for you…” Benedict almost chuckles as you gasp when his other hand cups your jaw. “…She wants me too. Right now, her thighs are soaked with delicious slickness; I can smell it,” he states casually, holding you both.

“Is that true?” Thomas inquires, side-eying you but not moving under Benedict's finger.

“Yes,” you exhale shakily, unable to peel your gaze from Benedict's face now he has tilted your jaw up to him. “I want him, husband,” you confess raggedly, not knowing why you are voicing it. “And I want you to watch, to participate.”

Benedict chuckles again. “Of course, you do, little one. You love him, even if you are tempted by the fruit of another.” He traces a knuckle down over your chin, your throat, where your pulse is beating wildly, pausing on your clavicle. You know your eyes are wide and beseeching, begging for more.

Benedict swings his gaze to Thomas, then leans in. “If you truly love your wife, you will kiss me right now,” he taunts, his lips hovering so close, “give her a good show; I need her trembling before I take her.”

Come on, sweet prince, dance with me.

—

Thomas can barely comprehend what is transpiring. But he doesn't want to fight it. The man’s finger is cool on his lip as he poses the question. You are writhing deliciously in his lap, making his cock swell painfully against the cleft of your bottom. The next decision is inevitable, fated.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

He gently purses his lips and gives permission by bussing a featherlight kiss onto Benedict’s finger. The predatory smile that unfurls across the man’s face doesn't seem human, more akin to creature than man.

Then his jaw is tilted back, and his world swims as the man closes the few inches between their faces and kisses him. It's biting, hungry, desperate. A skilled tongue rolls over his, and Thomas feels a groan bubble up from deep inside. Possessed, overwhelmed, taken. Benedict tastes like sin but something odd like decay, too, at the edges of the fragrant brandy—some tart undercurrent that is wholly otherworldly and unnerving.

Thomas feels as much as he hears your moan. Feels the weight of your gaze glued to their faces, no doubt seeing a peak of their tongues entwining. Feels the weight of your body in his lap, moving rhythmically, grinding insistently, tilting your hips forward brazenly to drag your clit over the creases in his trousers. Your shameless want and desire are potent and arousing. Even as Benedict’s kiss steals his breath, a faint voice in his head gnaws about your actions being as inexplicable as his, but it's mostly drowned out by the roar of blood pumping hard in his system, seeming so loud around this man, as if he is in tune with it somehow.

As Benedict pulls back, Thomas's vision swims, awash with sensation. He watches, dazed, as the pale man turns and captures your mouth just as covetously.

—

You have only known the passionate kiss of one man—your husband. Yet a mere three days after your first mind-blowing experience of that, you have another first. Your first kiss with another, a whole other creature, not that you can likely comprehend. Unaware of the dance with death.

When Benedict turns and seizes your lips, you peep in surprise. But he swallows the noise, opening your mouth with his tongue, the kiss instantly intense. It's more of a take than the pliant dance you usually share with Thomas. A plundering that floods your senses and steals every breath from your lungs leaving you feeling shaky, unmoored, and taken somewhere dark that is metallic and brimstone. His kiss seems at once ephemeral and infinite. No wonder your husband looked dazed. As Benedict withdraws, the smile on his face is rapacious.

He suddenly pulls both of you to your feet, like ragdolls for him to puppet. Wrapping you up in a joint embrace, he whispers for you both to strip before releasing you just as swiftly, taking a seat on the edge of the imposing bed. As if in a trance, you begin undoing your own clothing.

“Nuh-uh,” Benedict clucks, holding a halting hand that you instantly obey. “Undress each other, my precious ones,” he elucidates, wanting a show.

Your heart thrums as you turn to your husband and he to you. Invisible strings seem to direct your frantic movements as you paw at each other, fabrics tearing in your swift pursuit of skin. You only stop panting wildly and staring when nothing is left, both frowning in confusion at the flurry and intensity of it.

What on earth just happened?

Uncertainty roils oleaginous in your stomach as if, on a gut level, your body is trying to send a warning signal. Still, at the same time, it feels detached and far away, as if your mind is in another realm, a place of edgy desire and boundless pleasure.

—

“Well, that was quite the brief show,” Benedict pipes up, bemused. “Not that I am complaining,” he adds, smirking, his eyes raking you both greedily as he runs a casual finger down his cheek.

Your bodies are ideal, as he suspected. The man is tall and lithe, not unlike himself, his skin pale and smooth, his cock, aroused and leaking, springing from a small thatch of hair that tapers to a narrow point under his belly button. So far, so similar. His cock is nice, sizeable but not intimidating, and weirdly he feels pleased for the woman. It is not as good as his cock; he's a Bridgerton, for Pete's sake, but entirely up for the task of bringing satisfaction to anyone who interacts with it. You are his ideal shape, your contours reminding him of a violin. And such an apt metaphor, your strings so ripe to be plucked, to be properly played, perhaps for the first time.

But mostly, what he tastes thick in the air of the heated room is your fluids. The rush of fresh blood pumping vigorously from your hearts, pulses elevated by the thrall. Sticky, sweet, and life-giving for him and you both. He is so glad he feasted on local farmstock before picking up your scent; otherwise, you would both be dead right now at his feet, lifeless and pale, every drop coursing through his mouth and swirling in his stomach like the indulgent meal your very hearty lifeforce represents. His hunger is slaked just enough that lust is his primary driver, at least for now.

He opens his mouth, engaging all the olfactory senses like a feline. Since he passed, his ability to pick up scents has been both a blessing and a curse, but right now, the best possible outcome from the dreaded experience.

Thomas’ precum is deliciously sharp, perhaps a shade too much. Benedict makes a mental note to offer him the luxury of some pineapple should this entanglement last longer than tonight, with them both still upon this mortal plain. You would undoubtedly be grateful for the improvement in his flavour, too.

As for you… his mouth froths. Your scent is sin itself to him, honeyed but also sharp like an undeveloped apple still clinging to the tree. A swirl of flavour in the air so plush, it takes all his willpower not to throw you to the ground and drink from between your legs. Knowing it would only take a blip, a momentary loss of careful control, to sink in his fangs, mixing your juices with your blood, what an absolute symphony of flavour that would be.

He realises he is staring at you both, panting lasciviously, lost in the jumble of scent and potential. You awaiting his next order, not even realising yourselves in suspended animation.

“Dorset, lie in the middle of the bed,” Benedict orders gruffly, drawing himself to his feet and standing aside.

Thomas does as bidden, his cock bobbing as he climbs onto the raised mattress and settles as instructed, looking at Benedict bright-eyed, awaiting any subsequent command.

“Watch me,” Benedict tutors you, then he crawls over your husband and, without preamble, takes the man's cock deep into his mouth as Thomas howls like he did for you earlier tonight.

—

Thomas almost hits the ceiling as his cock is suddenly surrounded by strong suction, vacuumed into Benedict's mouth. In fact, Benedict keeps sinking, and Thomas pants in shock as his tip slides into the man’s throat, something he has not had in many a year. The tightness, the pure depth of sensation. It seems strange the man does not need to take a breath or even fight as if there is air in his lungs, but dammit all to hell if this isn't already the most exquisite blow job of his entire life. Benedict apparently has no gag reflex; holding him deep, a mind-bogglingly long tongue unfurls to curl around his balls and lick covetously, a wet muscular stroke over his most sensitive skin that has his fingers curling into the sheets. He cannot school the booming, guttural groan. If he had not come merely an hour ago, thanks to his dearest you, he would likely be embarrassingly close to orgasm already; this man’s skill stupendous, another edge that doesn't seem human.

Thomas looks over frantically to you, his eyes bulging in shock, and he groans again at the sight of you. Your mouth hung open, lips rosy and damp, you have your fingers buried between your legs now, and there is a faint, lewd, wet sound as you invade your cunt with your fingers, just as he taught you on your wedding night. The sight before you is too beautiful and arousing to resist; you know your nipples are puckered, and Thomas’s tongue longs to run over them.

He wants to fuck and be fucked, sandwiched between you, his ravishing vixen of a wife, and this devil of a man, sucking his very life essence via his cock, intent on draining him dry. Just as Thomas feels a flush all over his body and a tightening in his sac, Benedict pulls up and away, smirking victoriously as he twists towards you, ignoring Thomas’ huffed, wretched pleas.

No! No, please, please do not leave me in this state!

—

You self-consciously whip your hands away from between your legs, and your eyes cut to Benedict as he addresses you.

“That is how you ensure your husband here never leaves you, little one,” he coos, running a thumb provocatively around his drooped lower lip, licking his thumbpad of every flavour. “Now it's your turn; show me what you can do.”

Benedict reaches out a draped hand. You take it, his touch light, helping you hop onto the bed to join them. He snatches your other hand and brings the fingers you had buried in your cunt up to his nose, sniffing lewdly.

Oh my god, this man is feral.

“I'm glad you enjoyed the show so much,” he smirks, running his nose up and down each digit. “Now I am going to taste you, darling girl,” it's low, akin to a threat. “You will sit on my face as you take his cock in your mouth, but do not let him come. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe, scarcely believing what he says. Benedict scowls slightly as he drops your hand.

“Don't call me sir, call me Count,” he snaps.

“Yes, Count,” you amend dutifully, and his smile, yet again, is devilish.

“Good, now ensure your husband is mindless with need while I provide you the same favour,” he purrs and slides under you with balletic grace.

Butterflies roar in your stomach as you feel the sharpness of Benedict's cheekbone press the skin of your inner thighs, draping yourself forward into your husband’s lap and tentatively licking a strip up his weeping cock as he mumbles your name weakly and moans.

Then you scream as a muscular tongue parts your folds with a force Thomas has never subjected you to. Whip-like, lashing your swollen clit with determined spirals before plunging lower and pushing far into your cunt, further than your husband's tongue has ever dared. Your groan is smothered as you take Thomas’ tip into your mouth, needing the distraction. Benedict’s hands grasp your hips and pull you down forcefully onto his face, his nose jammed against your pubic bone. Thomas has never been this engaged, devouring, a violent delight. You garble a curse around the cock, hurtling towards ecstasy as Thomas’ whole body tenses under you.

“Don't let him come,” Benedict reminds, words gusting hot over your slit, sensing what the man’s body signifies better than you do.

You pull off and breathe raggedly, staring up at your husband’s wrecked pleading face, where he leans on the headboard.

What is this? You mouth at him, nearly scared of how good it feels to ride Benedict's face so brazenly.

—

“Do not stop; use him, darling,” Thomas practically snarls through gritted teeth.

He is utterly enthralled by seeing another man taking you somewhere wild and untamed. The look of equal parts shock, fear and bewildered pleasure on your face is a picture he wants to remember forever.

He groans as you follow his advice, wrapping a hand loosely around his cock, a tease that makes his brain itch, as you concentrate on riding Benedict's invasive tongue, biting your lip, moaning vocally.

Yes, this is the best kind of sin.

Thomas mutters words, barely cognisant of what but compelled to urge you on. To take from this mysterious man so willing to give to you both, so far asking nothing in return, still fully clothed himself.

The jagged edge of his denied orgasm licks insistently at his mind, begging for release but paradoxically wallowing in the jangling ache of being so close but denied. Making him unable to think straight. As a doctor, he usually prides himself on keeping a cool head when all around may lose theirs, but tonight…. Tonight feels so peculiar. Out of the ordinary, out of control, out of his mind. And somehow craving carnality like a bestial creature, clawing at the bed, watching you be debauched by the same man who made him equally mindless.

—

Benedict cannot get enough. This wondrous pair. The husband was so responsive to his throat, and now you are bewitched just the same. Writhing your nub shamelessly over the tip of his nose, your juices trickling copiously down his nostrils to coat his throat as he plunges and twists his tongue inside you.

He wants you both so close to ecstasy, so close you can almost taste it, but not let you just yet. The thrill of how utterly base a human can be when dangling over the edge of lust fascinated him before… but now? Now, it’s his primary driver—to make a beast out of man, woman, any human, for them to feel one ounce of what he can. That heightened state when you crave something—so frenzied every base instinct emerges, shows your true nature: growling, greedy, hungry.

So when he feels the telltale ripplings in your cunt, he rapidly withdraws, and as predicted, you cry out, the sound ringing up the walls. He smirks, grazing your inner thigh with his fangs, the urge to sink into your soft skin and drink your other crimson nectar thronging in him.

Not yet, not yet.

The calm voice centres him, even as you keep moving, attempts to frottage yourself vigorously over his face, whimpering, desperate to push over the edge you are circling.

“Shh shh, sweet one,” he soothes, pulling out from under you as you pant wildly.

His hand rests on your lumbar spine to quell you. You slow, whimpering, collapsing forward, burying your face in your husband's lap, his cock leaking on your cheek, your hips swaying in the air. Both of you are shaking, sweaty and overwhelmed.

That’s it; we are getting there now, my darlings.

—

This doesn't feel right.

That voice is whispering again, but Thomas brushes it aside, ravenous, rooted in his body. Yearning to know what is next, a willing marionette in this sinful theatrical.

His mouth goes dry as he watches Benedict slide off the end of the bed and tug at his clothing, buttons popping open until lithe alabaster skin glows in the soft, flickering firelight. Shadows play over lean, muscled torso. He is beautiful: lean, virtually hairless, carved like a marble statue, just as pale and smooth. In fact, his beauty seems too ethereal, like his skin is no longer capable of tanning in sunlight. Still, Thomas longs to touch him, run his tongue over the sharp lines, and kiss every stunning contour.

“Y/n…” Thomas softly shakes your shoulder as you are still whimpering facedown in his lap. When you weakly raise your head, he nods for you to turn over and see the show you have been missing, Benedict now reaching for the buttons on his britches.

Lethargically, you flip over, your head cradled in Thomas’ lap as your eyes fall upon the man, and you inhale sharply. Benedict seemingly stares you both down as he lowers his britches, a smirk on his face entirely immodest. And when the material relents, you understand why.

Thomas’ cock pulses against your neck at the sight. He knows you have seen precisely one cock in your life, his, and this may come as a shock. It's larger and prettier, objectively than his own. You nuzzle him, biting your lip as you twist to look back up at him, eyes wide with concern.

“You can take it, darling,” he reassures, intuiting your apprehension as his knuckles brush calmingly over your cheek.

”As will you,” Benedict adds darkly, addressing Thomas. You watch your husband visibly gulp. Then you do the same, tongue feeling too large in your mouth, as Benedict mounts the bed and crawls predatory over your body, a sinful, crooked smile that is at once gorgeous and scary, that cock bobbing ominously as he draws nearer.

—

You feel butterflies under your ribs, unable to look away from his cock, suddenly nervous about the idea he might fuck you. Thomas is a perfect fit; it never hurts and feels designed to bring you gratification, but that?

It might be too much.

“Don't pretend you don't want me, little one,” Benedict boasts, edged with a darkness that is almost chilling.

“I-I do,” you stutter, unable not to speak the truth, your legs falling wider open reflexively.

“I know, I could smell you from 500 yards away; it drew me in like a clarion call,” he sighs wistfully, and it doesn't sound like he is exaggerating.

Benedict roughly grabs both of your legs and pushes them up and apart, making you gasp. Leaning over, he draws Thomas into a sinful kiss above you, making you mewl slightly at the sight, a burn in your tendons from the position, head now pulled out of Thomas’s lap onto the mattress.

“Hold her ankles,” Benedict orders over Thomas’s lips, gesturing to take over the hold. “Keep her wide and open for me, my prince,” he purrs as he leans away to slide a pillow under your shoulders, your head tilted backwards.

“Why like this?” you ask falteringly, feeling odd staring at Thomas's thigh upside down.

“So your husband can easily use your mouth as I fuck you, little one,” he explains calmly, hands now raking your flesh as he pulls you into position.

Nerves flare brightly in your belly, Thomas’s grip around your ankles harsh as he holds you so wide open. Then, there is intense pressure around your weeping hole. You whimper, your body quivering at Benedict’s attempted entry. He reaches up and touches your temple with two fingers, and the strangest thing happens; a preternatural calm soothes your mind, breath slowing, body pliant, racing now with nothing but want.

“Good girl,” Benedict tutors as he slips inside your body, the invasion blunt, the stretch as thrilling as it is raw.

He keeps pushing, the heat and size so much you can think of nothing else, even as Thomas shuffles closer, his cock nudging your chin, also demanding entry.

For someone innocent merely days ago, you willingly, excitedly, let both men slide into you at either end, your husband stealing your breath as he invades your mouth deeply, Benedict pushing you so wide you can feel him moving below your belly button as he bottoms out.

You feel them lean in towards each other above, Thomas sliding deeper as the sound of them kissing fills the air. You ache to see them, their mouths hot and entwined, but all you can do is close your eyes, swamped in sensation, so much hypnotic heat and scent. Fingers, you don't even know whose, pinch your nipples as both whisper your praises as they start to move in tandem, rocking into and out of your body in the same rhythm. They start slow, allowing you to draw breaths around Thomas' tip before he slides deep.

The drag of Benedict’s cock makes you moan; you can feel every contour and vein, your channel clinging tight to him, a noise of slickened suction as your body struggles to accommodate him.

But they begin to move faster, and you have to breathe through your nose, the insistent press of Thomas’ balls giving you limited air. The struggle makes it heady and soporific, like you can’t get enough and wants to die right here with both men buried deep inside you. You writhe as pleasure courses in your veins. Already pushed so close to coming, pliant and obedient to their use.

—

Benedict looks down upon the filled body of the woman beneath him and groans. Your cunt, such a tight wet vice surrounding him, delicious squelching sounds as he plunders you with increasing speed. Your plush lips wrapped around your husband's cock, your throat exposed and dewy with sweat, his teeth itching to sink into the vein bulging prominently as you fight to take him as well as swallow and breathe. He can’t help but reach down and run a sharp-pointed fingernail over your diaphragm, fascinated by the play of delicate muscle and bone as you ripple under his touch.

“Such a good little thing, and only recently plucked; you are a lucky man,” Benedict opines, his voice gravelly even to his own ears, looking up again to the man in front of him.

“Yes, I am,” Thomas agrees, and Benedict sees the imploring look in his eyes, begging for another kiss.

“Come here, sweet prince,” Benedict murmurs, feeling a spike of victory as Thomas effusively leans in, lips glistening, flushed and plump.

As they kiss anew, Benedict runs a fang over that juicy lip, wanting to sink down and bite, feeling his life force pulsing so strong right there underneath ripe, fleshy fibres. Thomas's hands twine around Benedict’s neck, his tongue tentative, asking for entry, and Benedict swirls and sucks upon it greedily, only breaking when he hears your attempted gurgling of words, your hands wrapped around your husband’s fuzzy thighs, requesting reprieve.

“Slide deeper; make her take it just a touch longer,” he growls into Thomas's ear, teething his lobe. “She will be feisty, but the lack of air will deliver her so close to rapture,” he counsels as Thomas thrusts and holds still. You start to struggle with muffled calls of increasing urgency. “Now slide out,” Benedict advises moments later, and Thomas follows his bidding.

Benedict moans as your whole body judders as you gulp deep breaths. “Perfect. Oh, my prince, you should feel how tight she gets when she’s fighting to breathe; dear god, it’s the best kind of pain.” He stutters, tone deep, wrecked, stupefied by the grip of your convulsing cunt.

What a perfect little thing. I want her as mine.

—

Thomas is also panting, the tightness of your throat squeezing him so close to orgasm for what feels like countless times tonight. He falls back against the headboard instead. To watch. To watch you, his once angelic wife, be taken, wrecked, destroyed by this gorgeous creature.

Your eyes shoot open as you realise he has withdrawn.

“Husband,” you reach a shaky hand up above your head, glad when he takes it, watching your body roll with each punishing thrust Benedict takes, his eyes seemingly fixed upon the hammering pulsing in your neck as you ratchet higher, his tongue slipping out of his mouth in a wanton glistened point.

Just as you are pushing your hips into each thrust, screaming with ecstasy, Benedict pulls out, and Thomas feels your anguish as you suddenly cry out, your whole being heaving with unmet needs, eyes pleading.

“Do you miss my cock already, little one?” he preens, trailing your own musky juices over your belly as he teasingly passes his cock over your heated skin.

You nod viciously and growl, Thomas barely recognising you—a creature reborn of pure lust and submission. Craving this man in a way that makes jealousy and want war uneasily in Thomas’ gut. You have never been this feral for him, your husband, but yet he completely sympathises, feeling the same pangs of want to be taken, wrecked, destroyed endlessly by this thing resembling a man.

“Alas, that is your misfortune, my beautiful thing, for ‘tis your husband's turn now,” the cold glint in his eyes and the harsh lines of his razor-sharp cheekbone glowing as yet again he leaves you a whining, whimpering mess, your body leaking, your voice hoarse, more wild animal than woman. As Thomas lifts his gaze from you writhing to Benedict, one thought haunts his very being with a growing disquiet.

What exactly are you, if not man?

—

You feel inhuman, something clawing at the edges of your mind that feels like madness. A desire to be possessed by this man. Your insides branded as his. So when he withdraws just as you are fluttering once again, it feels like insanity, like sandpaper drags over your brain, your toes and fingers stiff from flexing so hard in utter wretchedness.

This is ecstatic torture.

“Please, my Count,” it’s forlorn, ragged, almost not recognisable as your own voice, your throat still sore from the harsh tip of your husband's cock.

“No, little one, it’s only right you should take your husband's seed, not mine,” he clucks, even as he rakes his hands covetously over your sweaty body, his tone sounding reluctant as if trying to convince himself as much as you.

“Sweet prince, claim your wife,” he calls, clamping a hand around Thomas's neck, compelling him to slide over you.

He does as bidden, and you groan as the familiar stretch of your husband's cock overtakes your senses. Not nearly as punishing or brutal as Benedict, but curved perfectly to glance at that spot inside that makes you clamp down and scream with every pass.

“Darling,” Thomas's familiar voice whispers in your ear, and it’s a balm you need, centring you on him and his lovely face, moving over you in a surging wave.

“Thomas, my love,” you call, wrapping your limbs around him and taking comfort in his embrace, his body, familiar and musky, a flavour you know well dripping on your tongue as you kiss his salty neck, mumbling encouragements, your heels digging into his bottom.

Benedict watches you from behind, and when you look beyond Thomas, you see eyes inky black with desire, fingers ghosting Thomas’s back as if wanting to flay his skin open.

“Are you ready for me, my prince?” Benedict purrs in a way that makes even you shudder, unable to look away from his tongue as it slides into Thomas’ ear.

—

Benedict reaches for the vial before Thomas even moans his weak assent. The smell of clove swirls as he unseals a small vial and pours it down Thomas’ crack.

He can taste how much Thomas wants this, a heavy fug of desire in the air that is his pheromones begging more than his words ever might.

Thomas shudders, and his movements falter as Benedict slides a finger between his cheeks and swirls the oil over his heated skin, over his puckered hole and his balls.

Benedict can feel the weight of your stare over Thomas’s shoulder. Intrigue and desire. You have likely never seen a man fuck another man. Certainly not your husband. Certainly not while he is inside you.

Little one, hold on tight.

—

Thomas is staring into your eyes when Benedict’s cock slides between his cheeks, demanding entry.

He knows he has stilled his movements, and his breathing is ragged and uneven as that long-forgotten breach occurs. He groans loudly; it's the largest he has ever had inside him, and the burn is intense.

“Are you alright, my love?” you call, holding his face delicately and stroking his cheek.

“It’s intense, my love,” he answers through gritted teeth and a shaky exhale as Benedict keeps inching slowly into him.

He’s never had his cock buried in someone while being fucked before; intense exhilaration and so much stimulation. To fuck and be fucked simultaneously.

When Benedict bottoms out, Thomas collapses onto you, his elbows sinking into the mattress under your armpits, his hands clenched in fists over your breasts.

You reach for one and pries open his fingers, silently bringing the hand to your mouth and kissing then sucking his fingers as if his cock, a tease that titillates and distracts as Benedict starts to rock in and out of him. Thomas cannot look away from your mouth, your pleading eyes no doubt telegraphing your devotion and lust.

My darling wife…

—

You feel the moment Benedict moves within your husband, his motion a catalyst to the slide of Thomas's cock within you.

He has found a way to fuck us both.

It is all your mind can think as you watch your husband's face contort a thousand ways, rapture and fear, his whole body becoming a puppet stuck between you and the Count.

“Can you feel that?” Benedict growls, staring you down, eyes black now.

“Y-Yes,” you stumble, seeing something wild in him that genuinely scares you now, your tummy oily even as your clit twinges with pleasure, your husband's cock being driven into you at a pace that you know will make you come within moments.

“Good… don’t you dare look away from me,” Benedict growls when your eyes stray to Thomas.

You obey but watch with growing disquiet as he smiles wickedly wide. Two extended ivory fangs glow in the low flickering firelight. His tongue licks over them provocatively, drawing your attention.

What in God's name?

“God can’t help you now, little one,” Benedict sniggers ominously, and your heart pounds that he can read your mind. “Indeed I can,” he winks, making you gasp.

You are trapped. Trapped under your almost rag doll-like husband, his groans gusting hot into your neck now as he is slumped over you, being fucked so harshly by Benedict, hips snapping as he stares you down, pointed nails scraping down Thomas’s back, his entire mien a sinister seductive leer.

“You are mine, both of you,” Benedict declares. It’s dark, possessive, unearthly.

Confusion rips through your being as, for the first time, you see something other than man—a creature. Utterly terrifying, beguiling, erotic. A shadow moves over his face that is all menace and not of this world. Yet, at the same time, your body is so close to ecstasy, a taut thread holding all your muscles so close to breaking. Horror, fear, lust, and want are a continuous swirling loop in your very being.

Time slows, treacle-like, as you start to convulse despite yourself, taken over the edge by the carnal push and pull of Benedict fucking your husband into your body. Clinging tight to Thomas, you watch in slow-motion as Benedict leans down, those fangs looming large. Then, you feel a searing, sharp pang as they make contact with the meat of your arm, where it is wound around Thomas’s neck. Utter terror grips your heart, even as a flood of chemicals so strong courses into your bloodstream. Strong suction over the wound has you screaming, pure unbridled ecstasy, euphoria coursing in every fibre even as it dawns on you far too late precisely what he is.

VAMPIRE!

—

Benedict has only known immortality for a few months when he tastes his forever. Your blood floods his mouth, and it is the nectar he has been seeking since his turn. The thing that calms and sates him. The sweet delight that means he will never leave your side: he is yours. He will feed from others, for sure, but he is imprinted upon you forever now. He shall always be careful never to drink too much to kill you; he needs this taste more than anything, and just a few drops will be enough to keep him sustained.

“My goddess,” he moans, making your eyes pop open, fear but something else, too, swimming in your depths. It's not revulsion; it's anything but–it's yearning, even from your trance-like bliss.

He stops sucking before you lose too much blood; it’s just enough to make you light-headed and extend your rapture. He can feel you convulsing, Thomas’s limp body a conduit for your intense orgasm. Buried deep in Thomas, closing his eyes and feeling the pulses as you milk your husband’s cock, him just awash and pliant, sandwiched between you.

Benedict feels from inside the moment Thomas breaks, feels his balls contract and his pelvis ripple as he groans loud and long, his seed forcibly painting your insides. It’s futility to resist the urge to feast again. Meeting your hungry, consuming gaze as you crest a secondary wave, he sinks his fangs into the nape of Thomas’s neck, the man calling out lustily. And as he sucks greedily, Benedict falters and moans hard. It's like Thomas’ flavour is the other puzzle piece he needs. The ying to your yang. Together, the taste in his mouth is a symphony. A magnum opus, what feels like the very reason he now exists such as he does.

“My prince, my king,” he garbles, roughly suckling from Thomas's neck, watching the crimson line of blood ooze down his spine and licking it covetously, wantonly, his very purpose.

And it's the catalyst that flings him into the cauldron too, a shuddering snap that consumes his whole body and has him coming so hard he cannot hold himself on his knees anymore, slumping onto Thomas, panting as he empties, a visceral unloading that feels like the very best catharsis.

—

You have never known paradise like this. A continuous loop of thrill; every time you think it is over, you feel first your darling Thomas and then your beautiful nightmare Benedict come, and it pushes you over another precipice. Each is as precious and encompassing as the last.

The weight of them both slumped upon you as the shudder is something you cannot withstand, and you have to call out in protest. Somehow almost preternaturally, they rearrange around you, a tangle of limbs, sweat, cum and blood entwined like a knot of vipers as you all find a comfortable hold, panting hard from the exertion.

“What are you??” you demand, ragged, staring Benedict down around Thomas, who seems to be hovering semi-conscious, his face a picture of complete rapture.

A finger traces down your cheek as he does the same to Thomas, which you track askance.

“Darling precious, you already know. I’m your worst dream masquerading as your perfect fantasy,” he chimes. “And I am yours forever.”

“To which of us do you speak?” you gulp, barely able to form the words; your whole world tilted and forever changed.

“You see, therein lies the beauty,” Benedict smiles, running the edge of his incisors first over Thomas’s neck as he groans drowsily, then yours, making you inhale sharply. “I speak of both of you.”

Thomas twists and places a sleepy, sated kiss on you and then Benedict.

“Enthralling, is not, my love?” Thomas slurs, nuzzling you both. “We have our very own creature of the night.”

“You knew?!” you stutter, disbelief warring with every other emotion alive in your body.

“Mmm,” he hums peacefully. “I knew on some level from the moment he kissed me. And yet here we are. Hearts still beating, bodies utterly sated. This is the best possible outcome. I, for one, cannot wait for every adventure with our delicious Vampire,” Thomas lazily pats Benedict's cheek, who smiles and kisses his temple.

You are rendered speechless.

“Come on, y/n, my goddess,” Benedict goads, his tone dusky and irresistible as his lips ghost your husband’s, his long pale fingers smearing a droplet of blood into your breast, spidering over your flesh in a way that already has your cunt swelling again. “I am yours. And I can give you such pleasures every night,” he promises.

Well, that is perhaps the most enthralling prospect of all.

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kasagia · 2 years ago

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Heyyy! So I was wondering if it was possible for you to write something where klaus forces the reader to marry him and they have a daughter hope(she can be a baby or a kid) and the reader can kind of tolerate klaus for the sake of her daughter but actually hates him and over time she falls in love with elijah's nobility and confesses to him at a party or something and klaus overhears ending is up to you<3

Loved by them two

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x reader, Elijah Mikaelson x reader, Summary: After your parents (pack leaders) arranged your marriage to Klaus (with whom you accidentally had a one-night stand earlier), you tied your fate irrevocably to the Mikaelsons. Problem? 1. You hate your husband for tricking you into this marriage. 2. His noble brother is too alluring. 3. You find out the hard way that hate, love, and lust are a very explosive mixture. Especially when you add the two Mikaelsons to it. Warning(s): argument, fight, blood, love triangle, smut, the first time I wrote something bordering on smut, angst, fluff, the reader kisses Elijah and then goes to bed with Klaus; generally, the reader doesn't know what to do; but she has two hot brothers on her call; three in total because Kol is her best friend; I really like this one after all Nonsense from me: I combined these two requests because they seem to go together. Also sorry if I didn't include enough Elijah x reader (despite my huge crush for all the Mikaelsons, Klaus will always get somehow a girl 😅). I also took a gif from here, because... well it's good. Word count: 8,3k (it's pretty long, I admit, but I don't regret any minute of writing it.)

You hated Klaus Mikaelson with all your heart. Your abhorrent, psychotic husband. A man who somehow was the father (even though you've tried to disprove it many times) of your precious, sweet little daughter Hope.

If the devil could take human form, no doubt it would be your husband.

You met him by accident. You and your friends went out into the city to have fun. You met a hot, handsome blond guy in a bar, went to bed with him, and left his house the next day without a word, expecting never to see him again. You wouldn't think that when you get back to your pack of wolves, your parents - the alphas of the pack - will tell you that you're getting married in a month. And not just anyone. Klaus Mikaelson was going to be your husband. A 1,000-year-old werewolf and vampire hybrid.

You will remember for the rest of your life what they told you when they were destroying your chance for happiness.

"The pack must be strong. This marriage and your assumption of power will guarantee us a secure position in New Orleans. No witches, vampires, or other werewolves will stand in our way. This alliance with the originals will guarantee us power beyond our ancestors' imagination. The crescent wolf and other packs will succumb to our strength. It is your duty to do this for your people."

Of course, you objected to the idea as soon as they told you. But you weren't a leader yet, so your opinion didn't matter much. Especially when your first meeting with your fiancé was only a few minutes away. At least the first official meeting.

You thought the guy must look like a walking fossil. You were surprised when you met that hottie from last night.

And from then on, your whole life became hell.

You tried everything to back out of that engagement. Really everything. Even a fake pregnancy with another, which turned out not to be so fake after all. And unfortunately for you, the father of your child was HE. The curse of your existence.

So he sped up the wedding, and you became the wife of the most dangerous vampire in the world. Cool! At least you got lots of presents and access to his bank accounts all over the world. The pros of being an incubator for a miracle baby.

Then you met your guardian angel. Elijah Mikaelson - the older brother of your awful husband. Your only consolation (other than Hope) in this terrible situation. Your friend, soul mate, and the man of your dreams.

Fate liked to make fun of you, it forced you to marry the wrong brother.

Elijah was everything any woman could ask for. A tactful gentleman, respecting and supporting female feminism, always keeping his word, a walking ideal. The complete opposite of your cruel husband.

You were completely in love with him. So much so that when he held your beautiful one-year-old daughter in his arms, you imagined that he was her father. Your fantasy was almost always spoiled by your husband stepping on the three of you and taking the baby out of his hands.

You had no idea why Klaus had even chosen to make your life a nightmare. There were other ways he could have taken control of the city; he didn't have to become the leader of your pack and marry you.

But he always did and took what he wanted. You found out after being stuck in this happy swamp of being married to Klaus for a year. So you took great satisfaction in denying him the one thing he could never have and so desired - your love and affection.

It was another big mystery for you when it came to Klaus and his complicated personality. Yes, you had a child together, and you were stuck with him, but before that, you didn't know each other. So why did the mighty hybrid decide to find a mate and lead his own pack with them? And why was he strangely obsessed with creating a happy, loving family with you and Hope?

Worse, he turned out to be a good alpha to your pack and an even better father. You couldn't say a bad thing. You two ruled the werewolves, enhanced by your fusion, as equals. And Hope loved it when he sang her lullabies and tucked her in to sleep. Ironically, she calmed down better in the murderous original's arms than in yours.

Even your own child was against you.

Fortunately, in this cold, dark Mikaelson mansion, there was one soul who stood by your side no matter what. The only one you could trust implicitly without fear of ending up with a stake in your back.

Elijah was a gift from heaven to you.

During your pregnancy with Hope, he helped you in every possible way. He was always there for you, whether it was holding your hair as you returned all the breakfast he had prepared for you earlier or reading aloud to you as he massaged your aching ankles.

And when did you become a hybrid? He was the one who taught you self-control for the most part (while Klaus was busy doing something else and couldn't see the two of you, of course).

There was only one problem. Your terribly possessive husband.

As soon as Klaus came into your sight, Elijah had to move two meters away from you, or all hell would break loose.

And you're not exaggerating at all.

One day, when you were watching a movie and lying on the couch, leaning against each other and covered with one blanket, you didn't notice the hybrid enter the living room. You didn't even blink when your companion was dragged from his place and thrown to the other end of the house. A second later, a very angry and jealous vampire took his place, hugging you much closer than his brother and placing his hands on your growing belly.

You didn't react to his show of strength then.

Elijah and Rebekah taught you long ago to choose your battles with Niklaus. It wasn't worth arguing with him about everything he'd done. Especially since you were pregnant at that time - you didn't always have the strength to get into fights with him.

But now as a hybrid, queen of your pack and whole New Orleans? Oh no, you wouldn't let that man fucking rule you.

You tried to make his life hell. You defied him every step of the way, overthrowing his dark plans and bringing your own to life. Of course, you did it all with a sweet, stupid smile, occasionally showing him small acts of tenderness, such as hugging or kissing on the cheek or forehead (on exceptional, life-threatening occasions, you even sacrificed and kissed him), to lull his vigilance.

But Klaus wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what you were doing and was happy to let you change a couple of his plans if it meant a kiss from you.

And you thought it was what made him fall for you.

You were stubborn, always getting your way, going over the dead to achieve your goal if it was to protect your loved ones.

And Klaus loved it. You don't know if it was his weird fetish - the guy always got what he wanted and no one dared stand up to him, so he felt for the girl who didn't want to succumb to him. You were probably one of the few survivors of the rebellion against him. And the one who could do literally anything without any fear of the hybrid hurting you.

You get used to this life. Secret meetings with Elijah in the library, discussions in the living room while Hope played with her toys on the carpet and watched cartoons on TV, occasional shopping and girls' nights with Bekah and Freya, and even to Kol's pranks and tricks.

Even your relationship with Klaus has been better lately. You tried so openly not to show your hostility towards the hybrid. After all, he was your daughter's father and Hope deserved at least a semblance of normalcy - parents who don't want to kill each other every 5 minutes.

But tonight, everything was about to change.

~•♤♤♤•~

"So you want me to go with you to some weird party organized by your current archenemy Tristan, and Klaus gave you his permission to take me out of the house?" you asked the original who made the pancakes for you as you discussed another plan to outsmart the de Martel siblings while cradling Hope in your arms.

"I wouldn't call him an archenemy... just a minor inconvenience."

"Is that why you and Klaus tremble with anger every time I say his name?"

"No, it's because a beautiful lips as yours shouldn't be tainted by such a terrible name."

"So whose name should I keep saying, Elijah?" you asked with a teasing smirk, licking your lips.

The original leaned slightly towards you. The tension in the room was palpable between the two of you. You looked down from his captivating, mesmerizing eyes to those alluring lips you've dreamed of kissing ever since he turned out to be more than your asshole husband's brother to you. You were only a few centimeters apart... so little...

Hope's squirming in your arms reminded you of the baby's presence. And that you were standing so close to your husband's brother in broad daylight and in a place where anyone could easily walk in and see you two. Against your darkest, most hidden desire, you have moved away from the noble original. Elijah cleared his throat, going back to continuing your breakfast.

"I'll be ready at 8 p.m."

"The party starts at 7."

"So? Don't you think being fashionably late will be the perfect combination for the act of surprise when they see me hanging on your arm? We'll get their attention, so Klaus and Kol will do what they do the best."

"You know ladies don't usually talk about such… bloody things while holding babies in their arms?"

"Ladies, Elijah, but my wife is everything but that." the hybrid came out of nowhere with that arrogant smirk on his lips. "Hello, my queen. My little princess." Klaus smiled fondly and took Hope from you, making funny faces at the baby. The traitor started to giggle. You rolled your eyes but also smiled slightly upon hearing your daughter's cute laugh.

"Dada!" she screamed, grabbing his nose with her hands.

Yeah, this little traitor could already talk. No, the first word she said wasn't dad; it was mom. The problem is that her happy "dada" came out of her mouth too often compared to mama. Klaus was too pleased with this fact than you would have liked.

"Well, maybe if my loving husband was an exemplary gentleman, I could act like a lady."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

"How is Aurora? Did she let you out of her arms so quickly?" you asked sarcastically, trying to throw him off balance. You weren't in the mood to put up with that annoying asshole today.

"Did I just hear jealousy in your voice, love?"

"Haha, you wish. You have my full blessing to spend time with whoever wants you."

"Niklaus. I believe we were supposed to have a meeting before we put this grand plan into action. Will you forgive us, Y/N?" Elijah interrupted you before you two broke the incredible peace between you that had lasted for 4 months and started to jump at each other's throats.

"Just take him wherever you want."

"Brother, shall we?"

Klaus muttered something under his breath. He handed our daughter over to me and planted a quick, wet kiss on my neck before stepping out of my personal space. I growled at him, showing my golden eyes. The man merely laughed, waving to the little one before leaving the kitchen.

"Enjoy your meal, Y/N."

"You can try to lose him on the way back!" you screamed after the retreating man in the suit.

"WON'T HAPPEN, LOVE!" your husband shouted back, ruining (as usual) all your dreams.

"It's always worth giving a shot." you murmured, knowing full well that he would be able to hear you. You smiled victoriously, hearing his irritable, grumpy voice as he snapped back at one of his vampire errands.

~•♤♤♤•~

"You look amazing, Y/N." Elijah greeted you with a delighted smile as he watched you descend the stairs in a long, tight black dress with gold embellishments at the waist and the ends of the sleeves.

With your little tiara in your hair and a gold snake necklace entwined around your neck, you felt like a fucking queen.

You're not going to lie—you went all out with your preparations, and Rebekah made sure she did your makeup for your first big, official outing since Hope was born.

It wasn't until you came downstairs that you noticed that Elijah wasn't the only person sitting in the candlelit room. Klaus was sitting right next to him, looking at you with the same fascination and admiration as his brother. You felt a little uncomfortable being watched by two originals with heart-shaped eyes.

"Maybe I should choose a dress with a higher neckline after all?" you wondered as you watched them almost drool over your looks. They were both 1,000 years old but acted like horny teenagers.

"So I guess I'm dressed well enough to be a distraction for tonight?" you asked, bringing their attention back to your face. They both decided to act nonchalant, as if they hadn't been staring at your ass a few seconds ago.

"Maybe even to well, love." Klaus' heavy, watchful gaze didn't let you down an inch. You felt an involuntary shiver run through you with each step you took closer to the originals.

"My brother may be right. No one will be able to take their eyes off you."

"Thank you, Elijah."

Klaus cleared his throat as he got up from his chair and faced you. He took your hand gently, and after softly caressing the wedding band and engagement ring from him, he shifted his attention to your wrist, suddenly stopping his movements.

You looked up at his eyes, catching his gaze. You felt enchanted by these calm, blue eyes, their beauty mostly made you went to bed with him a year ago. You felt like any little move could break that strange spell between you two.

At one point, you felt cold metal settling on your wrist. You turned your gaze to the charming bracelet that, surprisingly, matched your outfit.

"It's for protection. In case you need help and no one can find you."

"So you've always known where I am? What is this, some kind of dog collar with a tracker?"

"No. Freya enchanted it for me. It's supposed to sense when you're in danger and let me know." he rolled up his sleeve, showing you a new bracelet on his wrist. "I have a similar one."

"Oh." you groaned in shock, completely not expecting something like this from him.

"Exactly. Oh. I guess I'm not the bad guy all the time."

"I didn't mean..."

"Of course you didn't. Have fun with my brother, love."

For the first time since you've known Klaus, you felt sorry for him. Due to the growing guilt you were feeling, you kept an eye on his receding shape until he passed through the door. You sighed, turning to face Elijah, who had already approached you from behind in a moment of your inattention.

"Don't worry. He'll get over it. Niklaus can't blame you for being careful with him." he tried to comfort you, but deep down you knew it was your fault this time.

And you weren't going to act like your husband, so you decided to apologize to him at the next opportunity. Unlike some, you were able to admit when you were wrong. However, Elijah didn't need to know about your plan.

"Maybe you are right. Let's go to this party."

~•♤♤♤•~

You were talking to Elijah at the bar while sipping your drink. You entered as planned—late, attracting the attention of most people. Rumors quickly spread throughout the supernatural community. Your favorite was that during that year of your "absence," you divorced Klaus and married his brother, now parading proudly with him around the salons. Elijah seemed to like it too.

You were enjoying the party until one of the de Martel siblings showed up. Tristan.

"Famous Y/N Y/L/N Mikaelson. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"And you sir are…?"

"Tristan de Martel. You must have heard about me from dear Elijah."

"To be honest, not so much. I only know that you're the one who invited us, for which I want to thank you." you played a stupid, naive girl with joy while watching the frown on his forehead. To remember: He does not like to be diminished or underestimated in any way. Mr. big ego.

"So perhaps you would do me the honor and dance with me? We could get to know each other better."

"Actually, this lady promised me her first dance. If you'll excuse us, Tristan."

"Of course. Enjoy yourselves."

Elijah grabbed your hand and led you to the dance floor. He pulled you closer to him, rocking you to the beat of the song. The original wanted to cause even more rumors... you wonder if Klaus agreed to his actions.

"He's a slippery guy. Now I know why you wanted me to stay away from him and his sister."

"You just spoke to him, how do you know..."

"Well, starting with the extravagant look of the room, the fact that his suit and watch literally scream I'm rich, and ending with the fact that he carries himself as if he were the master of this world, I've noticed other manic behaviors as well. Besides, it's obvious at first glance that he's desperately trying to imitate you. I don't like him."

"Should I assume that you don't like me as well?"

"No! No. I like you. More than you know. I don't know how I would have dealt with vampirism and all of this without you. Thank you for being there for me. Always." you murmured, resting your head on his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his cologne.

"And forever." he said, placing a tender kiss on top of your head. "You're more to me than I could ever admit."

"Do we have to? Pretend and hide the truth?" during your conversation, you didn't even notice when he led you to a more desolate place. Nobody was looking at you. There was only him and you.

"Niklaus..."

"Have you ever, in your entire, very long life, done something just for yourself, without thinking about your brother or sibling? Have you ever acted selfishly?"

"I can't be selfish with you." he said, resting his forehead against yours. You were so close to each other, so close to getting what you both wanted.

"Why?"

"It will destroy us all."

"Then let the world burn... just for a moment."

Elijah, after a moment's hesitation, leaned closer to you, embracing your slightly trembling figure with anticipation even tighter. He cupped your right cheek with his hand and finally brought your lips together in the long-awaited kiss.

Your first kiss with the original was… completely different from what you imagined. His soft lips didn't match up with yours as well as they did with…

You froze in complete shock as you realized your subconscious was comparing Elijah to Klaus. And surprisingly, it was more sympathetic to your hated husband, from whom you wanted so much to be free. In spite of this strange feeling of guilt that you somehow betrayed Klaus, you returned the kiss with more passion than before, trying to feel that wonderful tingling and buzzing in your head.

But it never came.

Something was missing in this perfect, fabulous setting for the first kiss with the love of your life. And you had no idea what was wrong.

Maybe first kisses with someone new were so… awkward?

Your treacherous mind reminded you that there was NEVER such an awkwardness between you and Klaus. Only pure passion and desire.

What the fuck happened to you? Why didn't you feel anything special when all your wet dreams were coming true?

You moved away first under the pretense of taking a breath. Staring into Elijah's eyes, you could feel the same attraction that accompanied you every time you stole those furtive glances from each other.

"I love you, Y/N. I've loved you since the first day you gave me a lecture on how Pride and Prejudice is Jane Austen's best book; how cliché it wasn't." you hit him on the shoulder, making him giggle. "And if the circumstances were completely different, if it were someone completely different, I wouldn't hesitate to be selfish just this once and take something from my brother. But I will not allow any harm to come to you or Hope through my actions."

Before you could say anything, you two heard a howl.

Klaus and Kol.

Elijah nodded at you. You disentangled yourself from his arms and ran upstairs to fulfill your role in the Mikaelsons' plan. You just hoped the guys would distract them long enough for you to find what you were looking for.

You searched their house, wondering how Elijah's confession would affect your relationship now.

But little do you know that you weren't the only one who heard it.

~•♤♤♤•~

It was a really fucked up night.

The peaceful surveillance of the de Martel house turned into a bloody battle between the originals and the first vampires they turned. Klaus' therapist, Cami, barely escaped a jealous attack by Klaus' ex-Aurora. You wonder how Klaus managed to reach Cami in time and why the red-haired psycho didn't target you and your child. Klaus must have put on quite a show for her.

In all the chaos, you didn't get a second chance for a moment alone with Elijah. The subject of your feelings still remained the elephant in the room. And frankly, you've had enough of it all. All you wanted now was a warm bath and playing with Hope. No more family drama.

Without Klaus, everything would have gone to hell. And as much as you hated that he forgot to include you in his plans for today, you couldn't help but be grateful to him for helping you protect your pack from vampires today. He didn't have to. He could watch the de Martel vampires kill your people and attack them when they get tired of fighting werewolves. Another demonstration of him being more than a villain to you.

It amazed you how one minute he was an irritating, ignorant, disrespectful asshole and the next your savior, protector, and equal partner in crime you could rely on.

You guess that's what your husband was like. Full of contradictions and surprises. Your private pet of nature.

You sighed in relief as you finally walked to your home. You took another step towards the mansion when you saw Klaus and Elijah getting out of the car and heading for the entrance.

You were about to join the originals, but you stopped dead at the sound of Klaus' pretentious voice.

"So we're just going to pretend you didn't kiss my wife and confess your feelings to her, or maybe you have an explanation?" you hid, eavesdropping on their conversation. "Don't think that after all that's happened, I've forgotten that you went a little too far in distracting the de Martels. You may get Aurora away from her that way, but it was superfluous, and I know you enjoyed every bloody second too much for me to just walk away from this."

"I don't have to explain myself to you. If she wants me, it's none of your business, Niklaus. You only married her because you made up a plan - Y/N has never wanted to be your wife and you have never cared about her." Klaus stopped, watching his brother blankly. He looked like something had broken inside him.

The hybrid suddenly lunged at the other man with his fists.

They started punching each other and throwing things at each other within reach. At one point, they both pushed off each other, landing on opposite walls. (Creating another dent to patch.)

"SHE IS MY WIFE! My mate! My queen! MOTHER OF MY CHILD! You have no right to her, brother! So I'm warning you… If I ever hear the littlest rumours about her having the smallest crush on you, I'll put you back in that bloody coffin, and I will release you after our eighth child comes into this world. She will be so madly in love with me that she won't even spare you a second glance when you meet again."

"I didn't know you loved plans that take over a thousand years to complete, brother. I never thought you could be so patient."

Klaus growled, throwing himself at his brother with a scream. From your hiding place, you could hear the sounds of a fight and shattered furniture.

You decided to wait a little longer before stepping in and heroically separating the two combatants. You didn't want it to seem like you overheard their argument.

Only when there was a sudden outburst followed by a suspicious silence did you decide to run into the house. You wouldn't expect them to demolish the entire living room in minutes, and Klaus would be bleeding out dangerously while trying to patch up the wound and drive the dagger into his brother's heart.

The men didn't notice you as they tried to disable each other. You weren't going to come between them or stand on either side until Elijah, out of nowhere, pulled out Pappa Tunde's blade.

Your body reacted faster than your brain. You instinctively threw yourself between them, shielding Klaus from the blade.

They both froze when they saw you.

Time seemed to stop as both shocked and incredulous looks from the originals fell on you. To be honest, even you were surprised which side you were on. You blamed your stupid tendency to act instead of think in difficult situations. But you weren't going to show them that you were insecure about your actions. Not when they were both holding weapons harmful to the other one.

"Put it down." you said, looking straight at Elijah. "You too." you added, glancing over your shoulder at your husband, who was staring at you with a strange, unidentifiable look. Amazingly, he dropped the dagger to the ground first. Soon after, Elijah did the same. You quickly bent down to grab both weapons, putting them in your pockets. "Good. Are you calm now?" they nodded silently, waiting for your next move. "Great. So, WHAT THE BLOODY HELL YOU TWO WERE DOING?!"

Elijah took a breath, probably intending to give you some clever answer, but stopped as soon as you felt an unexpected weight fall down your back. You caught Klaus just in time before he slid to the floor. Holding him up, you noticed a wound on his right side. You reached out to touch his wound, but the hybrid's strong grip on your wrist stopped your hand.

"Don't. You'll get burned. Verbena and the wolfbane. Grenade."

"What the hell?! Elijah how could you throw a grenade at him?! Do you throw one back?!" you asked the man in your arms.

"I wanted. You stopped me."

"God, from now on, you're both grounded from being with Hope. Hell knows if that rage won't attack you in front of her! Come Klaus. I'll help you clean it up. Elijah, you can clean up here before Rebekah or Freya come." you said, casting a disappointed look at Elijah's outfit before helping the hybrid up the stairs.

"I would never..." Klaus tried to explain himself as you dragged him to his bedroom.

"Just shut up and sit down." you growled at him, pushing him onto the bed. You took the first aid kit from the bathroom and went back to him to disinfect his wound. "It'll hurt."

"Will you kiss it later? To ease the pain and speed up the healing process, of course."

"Don't try your luck any more today." you warned, rolling your eyes at his mischievous smirk.

He snorted, offended. He looked like a child who had been grounded for snacking on sweets. You sighed, trying not to laugh at his scowl. Unwittingly, you began to wonder what Hope would look like when she went through her rebellious period. Probably like her father when he did something wrong and got caught doing it. Well, at least you'll have some practice before she grows up.

"Do you love my brother?" he burst out suddenly while you were cleaning his wound made by verbena and wolfsbane. Why they had pomegranates from these plants shouldn't shock you as much as it did.

"What?" you asked, shoving a water-soaked cotton ball into his wound, which made him groan in pain. You gave him an apologetic look as you continued working on his side.

"Don't act stupid, it's not like you at all. Do you love my brother?"

"Of course I do, he's my friend and Hope's uncle." you replied unfazed, continuing your work.

"Let me rephrase that. Are you IN LOVE with my nobel brother?"

You tried to pretend that his question had no effect on you. You put down the cotton balls and tried to avoid his gaze to give some answer, but Klaus grabbed your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. Fuck. You couldn't lie now. He always knew when you were lying, and now that you were exposed to his watchful gaze, you only knew one way out of this fucked-up situation.

So you pulled him closer to you, kissing him passionately.

He moaned, surprised by the feeling of your soft, enticing lips on his own. He wasted no more time. He put you on his lap, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you as close to him as possible.

The feeling of his warm skin against your clothed body reluctantly brought back memories of the night it all began.

Intoxicated by the feeling of his captivating lips on yours again (after so long), you didn't even notice when he threw you onto the bed, only momentarily breaking your kiss to let your hair down. He melted back into your mouth, hovering over you. The hybrid tangled his hand in your hair, tilting your head so he had better access to your equally eager mouth and tongue.

He moved to your neck, leaving wet kisses and gentle bites and rubbing every inch of your skin, effectively ruining any thought process in your head.

It was just you and him.

And after a very long time, you felt extraordinary pleasure and much-needed relief from the tension that your body had gone through today.

"Nik!" you moaned when he started sucking on the most sensitive spot on your neck, which he knew damn well existed and used every time to tease you.

But this time you moaned for him like a whore, too overwhelmed by the sensations his skilled hands and lips were giving you.

And this time, Klaus didn't hold back. His amber irises and possessive growl were the only warnings he gave you before he ripped your dress in half, revealing your dressed-in-lace-underwear body to him.

His wolf howled inside him.

He pressed his lips to yours greedily, caressing every inch of your newly exposed skin. You growled into his mouth as he bit your lip harder and dug your nails into his back. He reciprocated by squeezing your thigh tightly as he wrapped your leg around his waist, rubbing your most sensitive parts against each other. You both moaned in unison, pulling your lips apart for a moment. You decided to repay him and slid your fangs out to dig into his neck, drinking his sweet blood greedily. You've been dreaming about it since you became a hybrid. Only in your darkest, wildest dreams, after which you were ashamed to look into the eyes of the hated hybrid who probably drove you to Stockholm syndrome because you wanted him more every day—the man who was the cause of your misery.

It was impossible for you to love him. To love the man who tricked you into this marriage; who lied and killed and tortured so many people; who made you fall head over heels for him. Maybe that's why you fell in love with Elijah? He was his complete opposite. He was self-possessed, calm, reasonable, and kept his word.

But there you were, rubbing against him and moaning as his blood ran down your throat. Wanting him more than his brother—the man of every woman's dreams.

Maybe you were as fucked up as your husband.

Moments later, he copied your idea and dug himself into your neck. The moan coming from him sent shivers through your body all the way THERE. How could a man make you so desperate for him with just some kisses and the slightest touch?

You'd probably go all out and lose yourselves in each other's touch for the rest of the night (and possibly part of the morning) if Hope's cries hadn't come from the baby monitor on his nightstand. You broke apart, breathing heavily. Klaus licked off the rest of the blood dripping from your wound until it closed. He rested his head against your chest, inhaling your scent.

You unknowingly ran your hand through his curly hair, also closing your eyes and getting lost in this special, unique moment of tenderness between you two.

"I love you, Y/N." his soft whisper, combined with the gentle movement of his lips against the skin of your breasts, sent shivers down your spine. The realization of his confession left you completely still, holding his arms in a gentle embrace. "I know you don't feel the same way about me, but I promise you that one day you will. I will be worthy of your affection, my brave, wise, beautiful, merciful queen." he said, placing one last longing kiss on your lips before climbing off of you. He got dressed and left the room to soothe the crying Hope.

You closed your eyes, taking shaky breaths. You covered your mouth with your hand to drown out your silent sobs as you heard the familiar lullaby that Nik usually sings to Hope.

Klaus has really changed for the better since the first time you two met. And any other woman in your situation would surely fall in love with him in a heartbeat. But you've already given your heart to someone you'll never have. Or so you thought.

You felt an inexplicable attraction to Elijah, but with Klaus... everything just felt right - even though the hybrid drove you crazy and was the complete opposite of your dream prince on a white horse, in which Elijah fit perfectly. So maybe your Mr. Right wasn't someone you'd imagined in your head a long time ago…

And now, crying silently on your husband's bed, you realize what you should have done ages ago. But before you did the right thing, you could afford to pay a little attention to your troubled, lost heart.

So you cried until you got tired enough that all you did before falling asleep in Klaus' bedroom was to cover up any traces of your tears. You promised yourself a long time ago that no matter what, you would be the only witness to your tragedies. You'd rather be seen as a cold bitch than a weak, lost girl thrown into the fights the originals always fought.

Because in the end, it was only you (and Hope) against the whole world. Just like always.

~•♤♤♤•~

"I need you to do me a favor, Kol." you said as you walked into his room without knocking. The original was on the bed, flipping through something on his phone. He lazily shifted his gaze to you. You groaned internally. Bored Kol is a Kol who is very hard to work with. But—shame to admit it—he was your last and only resort.

"Hello to you too, Y/N. Thank you for knocking before storming into someone's room. How am I? I'm very glad you're asking; I'm fine. That's a very beautiful day, don't you think? Yes, indeed. Did marriage with my brother completely make you lose any manners and tact?" he teased as he drank the blood from the bag.

"I want you to compel me." he spat out his drink, choking and staining another carpet. "Rebekah will be mad at him." you thought as you watched how the original was coughing.

"What?!" he shouted, finally coming to himself. "Why?!" he asked, reaching for his half-full bag again.

"I want you to compel me to love Klaus." he spat out his drunken blood again, suffocating. He tossed the bag on the nightstand, deciding not to reach for it again in the face of new revelations. He probably thought you were completely out of your mind.

"What the bloody hell?! But I thought you and Lijah…" he began, confused, jumping out of bed to face you.

"We never gonna happen, Kol. I realized it very clearly yesterday. And I don't want to feel these stupid things around Elijah any more. He will never be mine, and I will never be his. I have Hope. I had to think about her future and happiness. And she deserves… everything. So if I can give her a happy, normal, loving family, I will do it. Even if it means falling for Klaus by your compel."

"Are you sure, darling? Do you even know what you're asking me for? Do you really want me to erase your memories of you and Elijah?"

"No. I don't want to forget. I want to remember all those stupid moments that led me to this fucking rollercoaster of emotions. I need you to convince me that... it was always meant to be Klaus. That my love for Elijah is just a fleeting fascination, and that Klaus is my fucking soulmate and partner, someone who will treat me as an equal and put me and our daughter above everything else. And that seeing him so close with Aurora and Camille made me realize that I only want to be with him."

"You know that these things aren't far from the truth, do you? My brothers love you. Both equally strong. Are you sure that…"

"Yes. I made my decision. I'm just asking you to help me sort out my emotions properly. I can't be the girl who sails between two brothers. I will not let Hope grow up in this mess my feelings have caused. My fate was sealed the day I met Klaus. Now it's time for me to finally accept it."

"I'll help you, darling. On one condition. I'm not going to keep you under my compel forever. I'll take it off someday. Are you then ready to face the consequences of your actions? Organize your feelings on your own? What if you really fall in love with Nik? What if you somehow fall in love with both of them? If Elijah finds someone else? Do you even think about what it will mean to you? You'll be living a lie, Y/N. Are you ready for it?"

"I'll do everything to give Hope the family she deserves. Besides, I'm Y/N Y/L/N-Mikaelson. I always know what to do. And for now, this is the perfect solution. I think I could be happy with Klaus after all. And after everything that happened recently... I just want to finally be happy, Kol. Without all the extra problems that being a Mikalson brings anyway."

"I only hope you're not going to regret this... Look at me, darling. Today you will feel something more than hostility or a little friendliness toward my brother Klaus. After seeing him, being a hero for your pack, and rescuing that human Camille from getting killed, you realized that you'd always had some feelings for him, but before today they were weaker than what you feel for Elijah. You realized that Klaus could be the man of your dreams, someone you want to spend the rest of your life with. You will never forget what you experienced with Elijah, but now you see him more like a brother and an uncle to your child than a life partner. You like Klaus; he's the only man you could be romantically interested in until Hope comes of age. After this time, my compulsion will cease to work. You will forget that I compel you. I told you to get that stupid idea out of your head and told you not to ask anyone else for such a favor. You will follow my command." you snapped out of your stupor, blinking as you tried to remember what the hell had just happened.

"Well, at least promise me you won't tell Klaus, Elijah, or anyone else."

"I hate to say it, but you have my word. Everything will stay between us."

"Good." you nodded your head and left his room. Kol's concerned gaze led you all the way to the door.

At least he circumvented your request and didn't force you to love Klaus directly, he just dulled your infatuation with Elijah. If you started to feel anything for his hybrid brother, it would be real. He only hoped that when Davina, Rebekah, or Nik found out, they wouldn't castrate him for it.

~•♤♤♤•~

You were pissed off. Incredible furious with your stupid husband and his older brother.

These two morons went with Kol on a solo quest against Lucien and Tristan, locking you (Freya, Davina, Rebekah and you) in the house.

You don't need to tell anyone that they came back with nothing and narrowly escaped death. As soon as the boundary spell was lifted by your witches, you ran out of the house with Hope and went straight to your pack. You left your daughter with your cousin Lily and her witch girlfriend while you went to get wood. You must have landed your rage on something. Trees were better than innocent people or your very guilty and stupid husband, whose face you didn't want to see right now because you knew you'd use it as a dartboard.

However, you forgot that your husband had no self-preservation instinct.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you growled as you sensed his presence, continuing to chop wood. He really was asking to die today.

"You took our daughter and left the house, you think I won't follow you? Besides, we need to talk, love."

"Well, it's too fucking late now. Fuck off before I shove a branch up your ass."

"Where does such an aggression of yours come from, love?"

"You dare to fucking ask me?! After what you did?! You could all die or get caught! I know you don't care what happens to me, but have you thought about Hope? Your fucking daughter! What would happen if they came for us, for her, when we were closed in the cage, you made?! Tell me, honey, was it your brilliant idea? Or maybe Kol's?"

"It's fascinating that you have such faith in my noble elder brother that you don't even entertain the slightest possibility that it was his plan."

"Elijah wouldn't do something so stupid. He's better than you. Do you even know how it could..."

"Of course our dear Elijah would be a better husband for you!" his brain apparently focused only on that damn part, not the one where you scolded him for being so careless because you were worried about him.

"Don't you dare fucking bring him into this! He was the only goddamn person who cared about my fate after my transformation! He cares enough about me to let me know about his plans, Klaus!"

"I saw perfectly well how he cares for you - by shoving his tongue down your throat!"

"Maybe if you weren't acting like a fucking, arrogant, condescending dick who knows everything best, you'd be in his place!"

"Well, I went further with you than he did last night. You didn't even moan against his mouth as you did against mine. I guess being a dick pays off after all." he replied with a feisty, smug smile.

"You! Fucking! Disgusting! Pervent!" you growled, punching him in the chest each time, causing him to back away from you until you pinned him to a tree. "I fucking hate you. Every time I see the shadow of a man worth loving in you, you always screw it up! I hate you and despise both you and myself that despite all the damn things you've done against me, somehow I still fucking want to see in you someone worth my love!" you screamed, taking out your anger on him with every blow you landed on him.

It shocked you that he didn't do anything to stop you. He just took your punches, standing still in complete silence, until you got tired.

"Better?" he whispered, staring at your panting, disheveled figure as you both tried to calm down.

"A little."

"You tremble." he noticed, carefully touching your cold shoulder. "Let's go back to the camp. We need to warm you up." he said as he took off his leather jacket and tossed it over your shoulders. He grabbed your hand and started leading you through the dark forest.

You don't even remember when you got this far in your anger. It took you a good half silient hour of walking to get back to the sleeping pack.

You sat by the still-burning fire. Klaus added a few logs of wood to make sure it wouldn't go out. He then sat next to you and unrolled the blanket, draping it over your back, creating a warm cocoon around the two of you.

You sighed, leaning your head against his shoulder and staring into the fire. You blissfully absorbed the silence between the two of you, losing yourself in Klaus' warmth and scent.

"I'm sorry." he broke the long silence between you. "I should have let you know about my plans or not locked you in the house. You're right. You deserve someone better, love." he said, his voice slightly trembling as he spoke the last words.

"I could love you, you know?" you felt his piercing, surprised look as you played with one of the sticks, staring stubbornly at the fire to avoid his gaze. "A long time ago. If you hadn't acted like a condescending asshole and tried your best to lock me up in that damn house with Hope. If you'd let me in, help me get past that evil, cruel hybrid facade and see the real you, you would have what you so secretly desire."

"And what is that?"

"Unconditional love from someone who isn't forced to give it to you. Unlimited trust and devotion-something you have not experienced in your very long life. You know one day you'll get it from our daughter, but it won't be the same. She will love you because you are her father, her love is conditioned by the bond you have shared since she was born. That's why you want me to love you so much. You want someone who cares about you for no reason."

"And could you? Love me just because you want to? After everything I have done?" he asked, pulling you away from him, not too far away, just enough to look you in the eye.

"You were never quite the villain in my story. I have to admit, I've hated you since I met you... but over time, I've seen that you've made me more than I could have imagined, someone much more powerful, someone whose opinion really matters. You always helped me, even when I thought it was some kind of sabotage against me and when I disagreed with your plan, like when you decided to stop Dalhia alone or play partners in crime with your bloodthirsty father. You take care of my pack like it's your own, and you're such a good father to Hope that sometimes I envy her. Maybe our beginnings weren't the best, and maybe along the way we'll start arguing and fighting like bitter enemies again, but I couldn't imagine anyone else to do it with."

"Even after I forced you into this marriage?"

"Well, if it weren't for you, my parents would've arranged one with a possibly stupid, self-centered werewolf anyway, so I didn't get the worst of it."

"Good to know I'm not the worst option."

"At least you're hot and handsome." you replied, nudging him with your arm. He did the same, making you both laugh.

You stared into his eyes as the firelight reflected in his beautiful irises, emphasizing sparks of amusement and... tenderness.

"I want to be the man who deserves your love."

"Can you let me in then?"

He did not answer. Instead, he pressed his lips to yours. If it had been any other man, you would have insisted on answering this important question. But you knew Klaus too well to know that this passionate, sultry, tender kiss is a silent promise he makes to you. A promise he intends to keep.

Klaus wasn't the perfect man of your dreams, and he often made hasty, sudden decisions without considering the opinions of others. But deep down, you knew there was no other man in the world who made you feel the way you did with Nik. Even Elijah couldn't make you feel half the way you did with his brother. His kiss, his touch, his smile, and his scent made you feel insane. And that (desire, passion, tenderness, warmth, and thristing for his little affection) was the type of love you want to lose yourself in.

Maybe it was Klaus who was supposed to be your Mr. Right after all.

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imaginidol · 1 year ago

Text

Jongho: Only Us

“Jongho?” You look up to your close co-worker as you made your way out of the private, tinted-windowed SUV. Jongho hops out first, turning to extend his arm in your direction to help you out of the vehicle.

“Yes?” He answers gently, looking down fondly as you clumsily made your way out.

“We’ve got separate rooms, right? I wouldn’t want to cause any scandals,” you say.

“Yes, don’t worry. I triple-checked to make sure they’re two rooms.”

“Okay,” you smiled widely, excited to be invited for the first time ever to one of your closest co-worker’s business trips.

When the opportunity had come up for you to be his personalized assistant for the trip, you knew you couldn’t turn it down. Jongho was, in fact, one of your favorite people to work with at the company, and you always enjoyed spending time with him, especially when it concerned his music-related projects and photoshoots. He was just so talented, and secretly your favorite member of ATEEZ. You could never get enough of this fantastic artist.

“You can sit on the lobby couch and get comfortable while I check us in,” he says. You agree, and sit back to admire the elegant interior design and decor of the well-kept, high-end hotel.

Your eyes make way to Jongho, his tall figure standing handsomely as he leaned against the counter.

He’s so…

Your thoughts travel at the sight of his perfectly-styled hair, his dark and sophisticated outfit, the sound of his huskier voice as he slowly became more and more tired as the evening progressed…

“Here’s your room key,” he smiles, flinging the magnetic card in your direction. “Don’t sleep in.”

You take the card from your lap and almost secretly regret asking for a separate room.

“You coming?” Your thoughts are interrupted by the sight of Jongho already standing in front of the elevator with both his suitcase and yours.

“Oh, right,” you say, walking into the opened elevator doors first, at his insist.

He presses a button close to the top, just about half a dozen floors under the rooftop.

“You got us the nice rooms with the pretty views? Aren’t those, like, way super expensive?”

“You’ve always liked those kinds of views,” he smiles.

He remembered that I do, you think to yourself, recalling a time when you’d mentioned it only once to him before.

“Thank you,” you offer him your warmest smile. He nods, and places a hand against the side of your arm. You feel him slightly turn your attention to the wall behind you, and you gasp at the sight of the clear elevator wall showcasing the rising city view all around you.

You gasp in amazement at the sight of the beautifully lit city underneath, feeling yourself becoming dizzy as the ground grew more and more distant. You wobbled and took a step back to catch your balance, but Jongho was right behind you to place a reassuring arm around your shoulders.

“Don’t faint on me now,” he teased.

Soon you’re both making ways to your neighboring hotel rooms.

“I can’t wait to see mine first,” you say excitedly as you scan your card against the door scanner. You hop inside and sprint to the window, admiring the gorgeous city view in awe underneath the darkening sky.

“This is so cool,” you say, turning toward the door. Jongho hasn’t walked in, but he’s holding your suitcase in his hand.

“You can come in, you vampire,” you tease, sprinting back to the door to take your suitcase. “Come,” you say, grabbing his hand and pulling him behind you. “You’ve got to see this view!”

“You know that I have the same view in my room too, right?” He giggles, letting you drag him to the other end of the room alongside of you.

“Yeah, but it’s funner when we get to admire it together,” you say.

“Right,” he smiles. Your attention is turned towards the distant flashes of car headlights, lit-up building windows, microscopic street lamps, and more. His attention, however, was fondly turned towards you.

The way you lovingly looked at the cityscape view beyond the window brought Jongho a peaceful joy. He liked seeing you happy. The gentle admiration for you had grown closer the more you two had spent time working on projects at the company, and simultaneously gotten to know bits of your lives along the way.

You turn your attention back to him, noticing his eyes were already on you. Not knowing what to say, you turn towards the door where your suitcase sat.

“I guess I should let you get some rest,” he says, making his way towards the door. “If you need me to call you in the morning to make sure you’re awake, just let me know,” he smiled.

You nodded, tracing his footsteps as he made his way towards the door.

You didn’t know what to do or what to say. Seeing him walk out almost made you… upset.

Not in an angry way, but more so, a disappointed feeling at the sight of seeing him leave. You wanted him to stay.

It was at this very moment that you finally realized,

I like you, Jongho.

From the ways you listen to me in every one of our conversations, to the ways you remember the little things about me. From the ways you make me feel comfortable before you, to the ways you respect me and everything in between.

I miss you because I feel safe around you.

I feel safe with you.

“Uh,” you hear your voice croak through the dark room, “Jongho?”

“Yes?” He turns to face you by the doorway, pulling the last of your suitcase into your room and smiling warmly in your direction.

“Uhm,” you hear yourself start boldly, probably about to say something you knew you couldn’t regret. “I just wanted to thank you… for all the little ways you look after me. I appreciate you. I feel safe… with you.”

His loving gaze meets and locks with yours. In this moment, you finally understand: this boy likes you, too.

Jongho smiles warmly, a small laugh escaping his lips. “I’d do anything for you, you know that?”

You smile. I do.

more ateez here: mingi san yunho hongjoong

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skepsiss · 1 year ago

Text

Modern problem, Modern solutions - pt4

This is the part where it hurts. I'm a sucker for miscommunication. Just teens being dumb and bad at talking. Having fun with what was pop-culture in 2015, god it made me feel old though.

TW: Underage drinking/drugs (weed), slight suggestion of sexual harassment (misstep that is corrected), suggested sexual language/intimacy.

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5

---

Eddie's frustration with himself had grown over the course of the last few weeks; they were well into October and Halloween was fast approaching–his favourite holiday. Despite it being his favourite, he never did much on Halloween and hadn't since he was 13. It sort of sucked actually. He had moved to Hawkins when he was 12 to live with Wayne and he hadn't known anyone to go out trick-or-treating with at the time so he had awkwardly stayed at the trailer and only half dressed up to go to school that day. Previously, when he lived with his dad he hadn't lived anywhere populated enough to make trick-or-treating worth it or been allowed to go. So, he had always missed out on walking door to door in costume–he hadn't even been able to afford a costume, and putting in the effort to make something was sneered at or condemned as a waste of time and money. He had only gotten 1 good year of trick-or-treating in when he was 13 and then that was it. After that, well... having fun on Halloween was pretty dependent on whether or not you got invited to a party.

Beyond that, everything Halloween-related made him think about horror and then vampires and consequentially Steve. It was kind of frustrating actually. Everything he thought of led back to Steve and it was becoming harder and harder to be in his presence without acting like an idiot. Time spent together was still sparse and only really happened at Pride Club or when Steve popped in briefly at Hellfire. Still, every interaction was painted in anxiety for Eddie and at the end of the day he often flopped onto his bed and cringed at himself over what he had said or how he had acted. Steve was nice, but it was obvious that there was nothing deeper than that. He could see how Robin and Steve interacted and how different Steve was around people he actually considered his friends. He gave them a hard time, poked fun, joked, smiled, and scolded them like a sibling. He wasn't really like that at all with Eddie, or if he was it was short-lived and felt surface-level to Eddie. It was frustrating and Eddie wondered constantly why he was trying so hard. He just so badly wanted Steve to like him, as a friend or otherwise....

Otherwise.

Otherwise was the thing that was annoying Eddie more than anything. He was 17 and there was no way he was going to be able to ignore this forever: Steve was a handsome guy and he was friendly. Eddie was not immune to the effects a good-looking guy could have on him–a good-looking guy that was queer and talked to him, at that. So, he had let himself fantasize once or twice when he was home alone, blending the images of porn, celebrities, and people he found hot together to get relief. He had felt horribly awkward after the fact and that was only doubled when he had interacted with Steve the next day. He had been downright ashamed and couldn't even look him in the eye. Even now, he felt awkward when his brain reminded him that he'd done that–and then went and did it again half a week later. Shameful, really.

Eddie's tact to dealing with his awkwardness had been to act a bit aloof and put out when Steve and him had talked after that, masking his shame with quiet indifference. He still tried to be friendly, but he didn't want to tip Steve off to the fact that he found him attractive. Still, there was a small part of him that liked when Steve paid attention to him....

Eddie and everyone else in Hawkins–who was he? Jesus Christ.

That was why it had been surprising when Eddie had received a message from Steve on Instagram a few days leading up to Halloween. It had been simple, and though he and Steve had communicated sparingly, Eddie hadn't wanted to change his behaviour in order to use the app more often just because Steve was on it. The message had been simple and impossible to misinterpret.

Having a Halloween party Saturday, want to come?

Eddie had stared for a beat before the next message came through, not able to process all of that right away.

Robin said she'd come, costumes required.

Steve's texting was painfully bad: the message was riddled with vowel drops and squashed letters without a sign of punctuation in there; still, it was easy enough to get his meaning.

Where? Eddie messaged back, feeling the hairs stand up on the back of his neck as he realized what this meant. Was this a party-party? Or was it a hang-out-with-friends kind of party? What was he supposed to prepare for?

My place, Steve answered, 8 on Saturday. BYOB.

Oh, bring your own bottle, classy. So, it was probably a party-party. That meant there was likely to be a lot of people going–a lot of 16-year-olds. Well, at least then Eddie could stand out as a little cool for being an older guy who showed up... that or the lamest one there to be hanging out with people younger than him. Shit. He was overthinking it already.

I'll think about it, Eddie lied, already resigning himself to going as his heart beat out of his chest, nothing to wear.

What should he wear? How hard did you go for a costume party like this? He didn't want to be lame and not dress up at all, but if he went too hard that would make him a laughing-stock.

Girl problems, Steve messaged back, followed by a quick j/k. Eddie had been able to tell he was being sarcastic, but he vaguely appreciated the clarification. He forgot to reply either way.

Every girl there was going to be dressed as Harley Quinn–Eddie was sure–and everyone else was going to be some version of Captain America or Left-Shark. Eddie didn't want to be pedestrian about his costume choices, but if he did something too obscure–ugh. He was going to go insane if he thought too hard about it. He was already going insane, honestly.

Eventually, after much deliberation, Eddie decided to just go as a pirate. He had attempted to make something of a Captain Jack Sparrow costume but hadn't had access to the funds to buy anything new. His hair was long enough already though, and he opted not to knot it to make it more 'authentic' even if he had twisted yarn and tied trinkets to his hair like Jack had. White shirt, eyeliner, vest, belts, and simple black pants. It was passable and if people gave him a hard time he was just some pirate or whatever. He had quietly been bitter that he couldn't find a hat or a coat that would work.

Eddie had purposefully shown up late to Steve's party and had quietly stolen some of the beers Wayne kept in the fridge before going. It wasn't a secret, Wayne knew he took his alcohol sometimes, but they had never talked about it. Sometimes, quietly, Wayne had made a sideways attempt at reminding Eddie to be safe, but he had never really... put his foot down. Eddie appreciated that, and he silently recognized that he'd probably drink more if he was told not to.

Eddie arrived at Steve's place through his backyard: the Harrington property backed onto the forest that connected to the surrounding area of the trailer park. It was still a good 20-minute walk and it had been spooky as shit walking it in the dark, but it was easier than trekking out onto the road and taking an indirect path to get to Steve's. He knew where Steve lived–most people at school did–and Eddie had to admit that when he was younger he had scoffed openly at the Harrington house. It was ostentatious and too large for a family of three, but Eddie had reconsidered as of late. Sure, he could hate the house, but it wasn't like Steve chose it himself.

It had been impossible to mistake Steve's house from the back, too. Eddie had been able to hear the party before he broke the tree line and despite the party not being "out of control" the sound of teenage laughter and pop music were unmistakable.

Eddie slouched as he made his way up the lawn and tried not to make eye contact with anyone there. He was a good hour late, but that was to be expected. People here didn't seem that drunk yet at least, so Eddie walked to the house before just stepping in through one of the many open doors. He scanned the room for anyone he recognized, coming up empty. Most of the people here he knew were on the local sports teams Steve was a part of, some people Eddie himself only had a vague knowledge of. He couldn't see Steve or Robin anywhere–or anyone else that might have known that would have been invited to this. Great.

Eddie swallowed and mentally buckled in as he walked towards the kitchen to find a bottle opener. There were more than a few out of the counter and he helped himself as he cracked open one of his beers.

"Munson–" someone was saying as Eddie took his first sip of beer, the flavour neither here nor there for him.

Eddie turned, seeing some guy he was sure was part of the basketball team. Or he thought he was, whatever, he was dressed up in some kind of orange jumpsuit, probably meant to be a prisoner.

"You uh..." the guy asked, raising his hand to his lips and making a smoking gesture.

Eddie snorted, taking another drink from his beer. Cool, well, at least if he didn't know anyone here he could pass off his attendance as just the guy ready to sell weed.

It wasn't a secret that Eddie smoked and it wasn't exactly a secret that he smoked more than just cigarettes. A lot of the kids in the alternative program did and Eddie had spent a couple of years in those special classes. He had been bumped out to just needing a "teacher's aid" for grade 12, and he hadn't minded so much. A lot of the burnouts were worse to talk to than the jocks, only because if you pissed them off the grudge would be held for years. At least the jocks forgot you existed.

"Yeah," Eddie said, fishing in his pocket for his cigarette box. He had stashed some joints in there, not having actually prepared to sell tonight. He really didn't sell all that often, only when things were extra tight at home, and Wayne had been somewhat consistently working as of late.

"How much?" The guy was asking, his speech a little slurred. That was one thing too, jocks like this never knew what weed was worth.

"Thirty," Eddie said, plucking the joint out of the box and twirling it between his fingers.

"Thirty?" The guy asked incredulously, patting himself down for his wallet.

"Inflation," Eddie answered, taking another sip from his bottle, "supply and demand and all that."

He could tell his comment was going over this guy's head and he wasn't sure if it was the booze or just his brain.

"More people at the party. More people want it. It costs more," Eddie lied, only keen on keeping at least one of his pre-rolled joints for himself.

Jumpsuit nodded at him and fished money out of his pocket, only coming up with 23 dollars which Eddie shrugged and accepted if Jumpsuit was willing to get him a beer too. He wasn't sure if the guy was going to come back, but a surprise beer later tonight would be nice.

Eddie toted his own pack outside, still looking at the partygoers to see if he recognized anyone before eventually–finally–spotting Steve on the back patio. He must have missed him when he walked in, but he wasn't sure how. Steve sort of stuck out like a sore thumb. Everyone was dressed in these store-bought, weird costumes, and Steve–from the best Eddie could tell–was dressed like Robin Hood. And not some cartoony version of him either; he looked almost like the Cary Elwes version of Robin Hood: white billowy shirt, a jerkin, tights, and a quiver slung over his shoulder. Either Steve had shelled out to get the goods, or someone very enthusiastic had hooked him up. The other thing that stood out was Steve had a... goddamn bottle taped to his hand like some kind of frat bro. Actually, now that Eddie looked, a few guys had bottles taped to their hands.

Steve noticed him and Eddie tensed as Steve touched the guy's shoulder by him and then excused himself. He was smiling, and he didn't look all that drunk, but as he got closer Eddie could see that Steve straight up had a bottle of 'On the Rocks' taped to his hand. Vodka and Triple Sec? Oh, Steve was planning to go hard.

"Hey, you been here long?" Steve asked, grinning as he made his way over to Eddie.

"Uh, not really," Eddie replied, fishing in his pocket for his cigarettes as he pointedly stared at Steve's hand. He seemed to notice and then waggled it a bit at Eddie, laughing.

"You know, have to finish it before I'm allowed a different drink," he explained. Eddie knew how that worked, but he wasn't sure how he felt about the bottle being an expensive pre-mixed cocktail.

"Uh-huh..." Eddie offered as a reply, taking a swig from his own beer and sticking a smoke between his lips.

"It wasn't full when I started," Steve explained, which was... kind of funny to hear. It sounded like he was defending himself from seeming 'too intense' or something. Or, it wasn't defensive, more apologetic.

"The guys thought it would be funny because it's a pink cocktail," he explained further which made Eddie snort and pinch his brows in. Fun. Just some casual homophobia at their queer teammate. Wear the pink thing, and drink the cocktail.

"Charming," Eddie retorted, half stepping away but not in an attempt to block Steve out. The irony of the whole thing seemed to be a bit lost on Steve, or maybe he didn't care enough.

"Munson," someone said and Eddie looked to see Jumpsuit coming back with a beer in hand. It was just a Blue Ribbon, but whatever.

"Here," Jumpsuit offered and Eddie lifted his case of beer for the guy to put it in the empty slot.

"Cheers," Eddie offered, flicking his lighter on and lighting his cigarette as the stranger trotted off. He glanced at Steve who was looking at him for some kind of explanation before Eddie took a drag and then motioned for Steve to follow him. He wasn't going to be that kind of ass that smoke in a heavily trafficked area. He knew most people hated the smell.

"What was that?" Steve asked anyway as Eddie leaned back against the pool house a few meters away from the action.

"Owed me," Eddie half explained, not sure why the fact that Steve was being a frat boy was making him feel less awkward. Probably because Eddie thought the behaviour was cringey and pathetic, so it made him feel a bit superior for once.

"I sold him some weed and he didn't have enough so he owed me a beer," Eddie explained in full, putting his cigarette and beer in the same hand so he could drink and smoke.

Steve made a knowing sound, leaning back against the wall beside Eddie and drinking from his own bottle.

"You selling drugs to people at my party?" He asked and Eddie felt his blood run cold. Oh. Maybe that wasn't cool. He hadn't thought about how that could affect Steve.

He looked at Steve only to have that worry melt away as he saw the smile on his face.

"Why, you want some?" Eddie retorted, his pride bruised just a little for thinking Steve was serious.

Steve half laughed, still smiling like some goddamn movie star.

"Sure, how much?"

Eddie wasn't really sure what to say to that as he swallowed a mouthful of smoke and then started coughing incessantly.

"You okay?" Steve asked as Eddie ducked to the side, coughing and trying to drink a mouthful of beer to help settle his lungs.

"Sorry–" Eddie wheezed, "inhaled weird–" He wasn't sure how that explanation was going to save face, but he straightened up anyways, nursing the small coughs that came afterward.

"On the–on the house man," Eddie explained, coughing some more as he waved Steve off a bit, "for hosting or whatever. Unless you're buying for everyone–I can spare 1 joint."

"You sure?" Steve asked, sounding a bit concerned as he reached over and patted Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie shook his head and rolled his shoulder to get Steve's hand off, pulling away to cough a bit more. His lungs were settling, but he sounded like an idiot gagging on his own smoke.

"Just gimme a second," Eddie offered, hands full as he took a healthy swig of his beer, "they're in my pack. Just lemme smoke this."

Great, he was already making an idiot of himself and he'd been here for like 20 minutes.

"I can grab it," Steve offered, not even waiting for a reply as he half gestured towards Eddie's pocket. He had moved with his taped hand at first and then corrected, shamelessly turning his back to the party so he could stick his hand into Eddie's pocket.

Eddie felt his blood run cold at that, rendered speechless as Steve squared their shoulders up and just started fishing in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes. Eddie felt a bit helpless, standing there with a case of beer in one hand and his bottle and smoke in the other, arms out to the side as he just watched Steve's fingers disappear into his jeans pocket.

"Woah uh..." Eddie started, swallowing again as he felt Steve get hold of the top of the pack, "you can just... wait a second."

Steve was already pulling the smokes out by the time he finished talking and he moved back to Eddie's side to lean against the wall.

"It's not a big deal," Steve shrugged, seeming to think the issue was that he had 'inconvenienced himself' doing a favour for Eddie, and not sticking his goddamn hands in Eddie's pants. Maybe Steve was a bit more drunk than Eddie realized.

Eddie took a deep swig of his beer before dragging so hard on his cigarette that he almost finished it in one pull. He watched as Steve tried to open the carton one-handed, awkwardly trying to push the flap open with his thumb. He was chuckling at himself a bit which made Eddie laugh in return, his nerves on fire as he watched Steve.

"Shit–" he was muttering in good humour, before putting the carton in his mouth and opening it with his teeth, "there."

Eddie snorted, needing to hide his delight and horror with humour in order to cope with whatever was happening right now.

"You really want to get high, huh?" Eddie asked, ashing his cigarette and watching as Steve mouthed at the top of his smokes before managing to get one of the blunts between his lips.

"Now what, genius?" Eddie asked, indicating towards both of Steve's hands being full without the ability to light the damn thing.

Steve snorted again, looking around and at his hands as he held the joint between his lips. That earned a proper laugh from Eddie as he put his own cigarette to his lips.

"Here–" Steve slurred as he tried to keep the joint steady. Eddie had no idea what he was doing, but Steve turned towards him again and leaned in, pressing the end of the joint against Eddie's cigarette.

He couldn't be certain, but Eddie swore he could feel his fucking soul escape his body as Steve stayed tucked in close, puffing on the joint to try and get it to light. Eddie's mind was drawing a complete blank as he stood there, pulling a little harder on his smoke and making it ember. He was staring intently at Steve, heart racing, while Steve's attention was purely on the smoke as he tried to get it to light.

It felt like it took ages, but eventually, he did get the damn thing to light and he pulled away, puffing once and then glancing at Eddie. He snorted and then fumbled to stick the carton back in Eddie's front pocket.

"Success," he said as he took the joint out of his mouth and exhaled. Eddie was still staring at him despite his hand having dropped from his own mouth so he was no longer smoking his cigarette.

"Professional," Eddie said finally, forcing himself to look away from Steve. He wasn't sure what to say or think of that but it felt like he needed to dive into the goddamn pool to cool off.

"You think?" Steve asked, taking a swig from his own bottle as he stood there.

"No," Eddie replied, finishing off his own cigarette and flicking it onto the ground to crush with his foot.

"Hmm," Steve hummed, taking another hit, "grab that, huh? My folks will be pissed to find butts out here."

Eddie glanced at him, trying to figure out if he was serious or not before bending down to pick up his smoke.

"Sure, sorry," he replied, holding the butt kind of awkwardly and looking around for somewhere to toss it.

"There's a trash can inside," Steve offered, nodding his head towards the pool house they were leaning up against.

"Right," Eddie swallowed, shifting a bit awkwardly as he tried to decide what to do before stepping away and looking at the door beside him. Steve laughed and walked over, holding the blunt between his lips again and then opening the door for Eddie. He bowed a bit foolishly, putting on a 'show.'

Eddie nodded his thanks and stepped in, letting the door close behind him. He sighed heavily now that he was alone, looking at the little room and noting that it was just a bathroom. There was a little shower and then a sink and a toilet, nothing fancy. It was probably just to wash the chlorine off yourself before going inside.

Eddie looked at himself in the mirror and frowned, unsatisfied with how he looked. He could hear the party raging outside still and he felt weird about ditching now. Maybe he should just go and try and find Robin who was supposed to be here too. How she was surviving this scene he had no idea, but he was barely holding on.

Eddie chucked what remained of his smoke and chugged his beer before stepping back out into the yard. Steve's company had multiplied and he was leaning against the wall with some other guys now as they shared the joint. Eddie felt himself tense, standing there awkwardly for a beat before Steve looked at him and offered him the joint. He hesitated and then put his empty bottle down, needing something to calm his nerves. He offered it back after a long hit and Steve gestured to one of his friends to take it.

Everyone seemed nonplused by Eddie's presence and he wasn't sure how to feel about that. It at least left Eddie's hands-free as he reached for a beer out of his case and then held it for a beat too long. How was he supposed to get this opened one-handed?

"Here," one of the guys said and Eddie glanced up to see him reaching for his bottle. He wasn't really sure what to do but didn't resist as the guy took the bottle from him and then fished his keys out of his pocket. He popped the cap off and flicked it at the guy beside him who cursed at him lightly before handing the bottle back over to Eddie.

He thanked him quietly, and the conversation around him continued, no one really paying that much attention to him. He wasn't a disruption in the flow of the conversation either, but Eddie felt too anxious to follow along with what was being said.

Eventually, the joint made its way back around to him and Eddie accepted the hit happily before passing it off. He worked his way through his beer slowly, chugging it a bit at times, and starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. He had drunk both his beers pretty quickly, and at this rate, he was going to be more than a little loose in the next hour.

"--more?" Eddie heard and he refocused his attention as he finished off the last of his beer.

"Do you have more?" The guy repeated and Eddie took a beat to realize what he was being asked.

"Oh, yeah," Eddie replied, putting his empty bottle down and fishing for his carton of cigarettes, "thirty."

He got much the same answer from this guy as he had the last and Steve laughed at him before giving Eddie a wry look. He wasn't exactly sure what that was for, but he'd take it.

"I only have forty," the guy said, grumbling. Eddie motioned to take it from him anyway only to have him reel back.

"I'm not overpaying," he retorted and Eddie chuckled at that, shrugging as he put the carton away. There was a small chorus of complaints before Steve chimed in.

"Okay, calm down, Lord," he sighed, holding his hand up in a 'wait a moment' gesture before chugging what was left of his drink. One of the guys whooped at Steve finishing his bottle and Steve stuck his tongue out in the most basic-bitch-way possible before finishing his sentence.

"I've got some change, I'll break your 20. Just give me the 40, and I'll give you 10 in a sec," Steve explained, sticking his hand out.

There was a half-begrudging agreement, but honestly, everyone sort of knew that the last thing Steve Harrington needed to do was steal money from you. So it was agreed on, and Eddie handed the joint over before falling in behind Steve and walking back towards the house when he gestured for him to follow.

"Don't walk away with my thirty," Eddie half threatened, weaving his way through people after Steve.

"Chill out," Steve snorted, walking towards the stairs. Eddie hesitated and watched as Steve toed his shoes off and ducked under the tape that had been pulled across the stairs.

Obviously, he didn't want people going this way, and Eddie could tell why. The stairs were carpeted and a pristine white, a bunch of teens barfing or trekking dirt all over the carpet probably wasn't going to bode well.

Eddie followed suit awkwardly kicking his shoes off and trailing after Steve.

"Where are we going?" He asked, hearing the hint of anxiety in his own voice.

"My room," Steve explained without turning around, "what? You think I can fit a wallet in these pants?"

He flashed Eddie a smile and Eddie laughed a bit forced at the joke. Really, his attention fell directly to Steve's ass and the tights he was wearing. Yeah... not fitting a wallet in those, too tight. Skin tight. Lord....

Steve turned down the hall as they got to the top of the stairs; Eddie felt meek as he followed, watching as Steve opened one of the doors and stepped in. Eddie lingered before going in after Steve, taking in the space. It wasn't a very big room, and the walls were a boring off white without much personality anywhere. The furniture was sleek and modern, and it was tidy despite it looking lived in. The only hint of Steve Eddie could see in the space were the trophies and ribbons displayed on one of the bookshelves in the corner.

Eddie felt his skin crawl as he stood there, watching Steve go to his desk and struggle with his drawer.

"Shit–" he muttered, the bottle in his hand bumping up against the desk. He lifted his hand to his mouth, biting at the tape until Eddie eventually snorted and walked over. Really, despite being such a cool guy, Steve was a dork sometimes. Maybe he was just drunk, but there was something unquestionably dorky about him.

"Here," Eddie offered, putting his case of beer down on the desk and taking Steve's hand. He struggled for a moment, trying to find the end of the tape before starting to unravel him.

"You guys are idiots for doing this, what if you have to piss?" Eddie joked, the sound of the ripping tape filling the room.

"Didn't think about it," Steve admitted, not struggling at all as Eddie pulled the tape off, "probably would have been a disaster."

"Yeah," Eddie replied sarcastically, getting to the bottom layer of tape and looking at it stuck to Steve's skin, "did you at least shave?"

"Shave?" Steve asked, confused by the question. Eddie tisked, and lifted Steve's hand up for him to see.

"Your arm, dumbass. Taking this tape off is going to hurt like a bitch. It's going to stick to your arm hair," he explained, shaking Steve's arm a bit and earning a laugh for the action. Steve was pretty drunk it seemed, but Eddie hadn't been able to tell how much alcohol was in that bottle when he had started.

"Just be careful," Steve explained, shrugging as if it was no big deal.

"Oh, just be careful," Eddie repeated in a mocking tone as he started to pull the tape off slowly, trying not to make it hurt too much.

Steve cringed, but stayed still, eventually hissing and causing Eddie to click his tongue at him.

"Baby," Eddie teased, his focus on Steve's arm as he peeled the last of the adhesive off.

He sighed as he wadded the tape a bit and stuck it to the bottle Steve was still holding before looking up at him.

Eddie's stomach dropped as he looked up at Steve who was just... staring at him. He looked a little distant, but he wasn't unfocused, drunk but not blasted. He also looked incredibly dashing with his perfectly quaffed hair and his stupid poet's shirt open just enough at the top that Eddie could see a hint of chest hair.

Eddie swallowed and then turned his head, laughing awkwardly and hoping Steve was drunk enough not to remember this. Eddie opened his mouth to speak, ready to say something stupid to make the conversation continue. _There, you're free, so about that thirty dollars, or I gotta go, I think my house is on fire, anything to make the moment end.

"I uh," Steve started saying as he shifted and put the bottle down on the desk beside Eddie's beers, "I think I prefer babe."

Eddie froze, confusion washing over him as he turned back to look at Steve who shifted to place his hands on either side of the desk behind Eddie, effectively boxing him in. He stared in wild shock and awe as Steve leaned towards him, close enough to touch but still respectfully distant.

I think I prefer babe. The line bounced around in Eddie's head as he tried to figure out what it meant and what the hell was going on. His brain wasn't working and he was just staring at Steve as if he had sprung a second head.

"W-what?" Eddie asked, swallowing as he put his hands on the desk as well, leaning back a bit to increase the distance between himself and Steve. He could feel his butt pressing into the lip of the desk, nowhere really to go, but not panicking from being 'trapped.' No, that wasn't bothering him at all. What was bothering him was how close Steve was and the expression on his face. He had dropped that charming, soft smile, the open friendliness he seemed to display with everyone, and instead, there was a gentle determination there. Not intimidating, but fixated, as if he was being serious.

"Babe," Steve repeated, close enough that Eddie could smell the Triple Sec on his breath. Oh, Steve was very drunk. He had to think Eddie was someone else right now.

"Alright, Steve..." Eddie replied, locking his feelings away once more as he reached up to pat Steve's shoulder. "You're drunk, man."

Steve seemed to waver before dropping his head to the side and looking down. He didn't move his hands away from the desk, still keeping Eddie where he was.

"Shit..." he mumbled and Eddie smiled a bit sympathetically. He'd seen a bathroom walking in here, maybe he'd grab Steve some water and make him sit down.

"It's okay, big guy–" Eddie started to say, patting Steve's shoulder again, wanting to keep this friendly. But Steve let out a bark of a laugh that caught Eddie off guard. He jumped a bit, watching as Steve stared at the floor. He looked almost... sad.

Silence drew out between them and Eddie tried to breathe even to help his heart from pounding out of his chest. Steve was drunk. He was drunk and high and probably past his limit. At least they were already in his room so Eddie could get him to lie down.

Slowly Steve pulled back, removing his hand and wiping his palm over his face. He was still pointedly not looking at Eddie and that made Eddie feel off.

"You... okay?" Eddie asked, wondering if Steve was far gone enough that he needed to go get a bin for him to puke into.

"Great–" Steve replied, his tone a bit clipped. Eddie swallowed thickly at that, feeling his hackles raise a bit. He had no idea what kind of drunk Steve was, and he quietly hoped he wasn't a mean drunk. What if Steve ended up wanting to pick a fight or something? Well, Eddie would leave his shoes behind if he had to run out of here....

Eddie watched as Steve put his hands on his hips and turned away from him, just breathing for a moment as the filtered sound of music came in from the hallway. Maybe Eddie should just leave. Maybe he should go find one of Steve's friends and tell them to check up on him. This wasn't really Eddie's realm of expertise.

"Okay, well..." Eddie started, pushing away from the desk, moving slowly as he started towards the door, "I guess I'll just... head out."

Steve turned and looked at him then, looking pained before he frowned deeply at Eddie.

"No, it's okay. Sorry, I'm sorry, it's alright. You don't have to leave."

The words had been rushed and they sounded extremely apologetic, but Eddie had no clue what he was apologizing for. He was a bit taken aback actually, offering a weak smile in response.

"It's okay, man..." Eddie tried, glancing at his beers on the desk and wondering if he should grab them, "everyone gets drunk sometimes. It's not a big deal."

Steve huffed at that, chewing his bottom lip and looking away again.

"No, I'm... I shouldn't have done that, sorry," he repeated and Eddie stared at him, his own alcohol and weed-riddled brain trying to make head or tails of this conversation. He didn't say anything which only seemed to spur Steve on to speak more.

"Sorry, man–God, that was super fucking creepy, huh? Shit, uh, I'm really sorry. Like... uh, trapping you like that," he sounded properly bothered, his voice wavering a little which didn't make sense to Eddie. For trapping him? For trapping him where? At the party?

"What?" Eddie asked, speaking quietly, swallowing again. Who did Steve think he was right now? Why hadn't he left yet?

"I just thought..." Steve offered, laughing bitterly in a way that sent a chill down Eddie's spine. It sounded so forlorn... it sounded like Steve was impossibly disappointed.

What did Steve think? Who did he think Eddie was? Eddie wanted to know, he wanted to know for maybe no other reason than to torture himself. What lucky bastard had Steve mistaken him for?

"Nothing, it's fine," Steve finished and Eddie frowned. He had done the same thing when Eddie had asked him about his parents. He had started to say something and then shut down when he started to communicate real emotions. Closing off and acting as if he was a bother.

"It's not a problem," Eddie offered after a long silence, not sure why he was still there. He really should go. "You can say what you need to say."

That weird calm was coming over him again, replacing his anxiety as he watched Steve. He didn't exactly feel superior this time, but he was disconnected. Something about this was letting Eddie bury his feelings for Steve and his need for him to like him. Steve was upset and the very least Eddie could do was listen to him. To let his drunk emotions out even if they hurt to hear.

Steve wavered though, finally looking at him again with those sad eyes. He laughed bitterly, this one much quieter than that last.

"That's kind of mean... Eddie," Steve replied, smiling but the motion was obviously fake. He didn't know what Steve meant though. How was he being mean? Was it really such a bad thing to let him talk?

"I don't mean it... meanly," Eddie tried, at the very least wanting to leave here with Steve knowing he hadn't intended to be cruel.

"What then?" Steve asked, his tone a bit tighter, but nonetheless sad, "how else am I supposed to take it? Making me... say it. For your amusement or something?"

Eddie felt his hackles go up again, shame pouring into him at being called out like that. He had been curious and this was Steve's business, he had just been asking out of morbid curiosity. What a shit thing to do.

Eddie flushed deeply, wrapping his arms around his torso and turning away. He felt horribly on the spot all of a sudden, ashamed to have asked and even come here.

"Whatever, man," Eddie mumbled in reply, walking over to the desk and grabbing the case of beer, "can I at least get my thirty bucks?"

He wasn't looking at Steve as he kept his head down, walking close enough to him so he could stick his hand out towards Steve. There was another long pause and Eddie looked up at Steve, making sure he looked annoyed instead of embarrassed. But Steve was just staring at him, brows pinched in as if the loose gears in his head were turning.

"What?" Eddie asked, his temper short as the shame roiled in him. Was he being made fun of now for asking for his money? For thinking he was going to get paid? He was just getting ripped off now or what? Or was he being teased for caring about 30 bucks?

"Eddie," Steve started, turning properly to look at Eddie which made Eddie shrink away a bit, "what are we talking about?"

The question wasn't funny or even hinting at faux disbelief, there was something genuine there that threw Eddie off a bit. What were they talking about? How was he supposed to answer that? What did that mean?

"I-I don't know, man," Eddie offered, taking half a step back, feeling that emotional whiplash plow into him as confusion roiled with his frustration and shame. "You're drunk and rambling about... I don't fucking know."

Eddie felt the flush enter his cheeks this time, looking away from Steve as he dropped his hand. Maybe he should just cut his losses and miss out on the 30 bucks... even if 30 bucks wasn't anything to sniff at in the Munson household.

"What..." Steve tried, sounding completely off his game, verbally puzzling through what was going on, "I was... I was apologizing to you."

"Yeah... I get that," Eddie replied, frowning deeply, still not following.

"Because I... because I came on to you," Steve continued, making Eddie flush deeper. He felt so lost and so emotional. Maybe it was the booze or the weed or something, but Steve saying it like that as if he was going to make a big joke of it all felt horrible. Like he was about to say because I thought you were this chick I like or something like that. Make Eddie hear the humorous disappointment of discovering he wasn't someone else.

"Okay..." Eddie replied defensively, looking away again, "so what?"

"So what...." Steve repeated slowly, sounding more than a little confused, "so what?"

Eddie didn't say anything to that, feeling annoyed more than anything now. He should just leave.

"So–Eddie, I–... do you not want an apology? I'd like to try and stay friends–”

It was Eddie's turn this time to laugh bitterly, gripping his hands into fists.

"Friends? Are we friends?"

It had been a harsh response, but Eddie couldn't help it as he looked back at Steve with fierce determination. What the hell was he doing here? Why had he come to this party? He didn't fit into this world, or Steve's perfectly clean bedroom, his jock life, friend group, Pride Club–those weren't Eddie's spaces. Who were they kidding? They weren't friends. The only thing they had in common was that they were both guys that liked dick.

Still, his response had Steve looking like he had just been slapped, which gave Eddie a sense of accomplishment. It was an ugly, bitter side of him that felt bad to dwell in despite how it swelled his courage right now.

Steve obviously didn't know what to say to that, his brows pinching in again as he stood up straighter, looking much more defensive all of a sudden.

"I guess not..." he replied cooly which made Eddie's throat close up a bit. He had never seen Steve act this way before and it felt bad to be on the receiving end of it.

"Sorry for assuming."

Eddie swallowed, hurt shaking his anger loose as he cruelly felt tears starting to prick his eyes. Fuck–why was he a cryer? Why when he got emotional in any way–anger or otherwise–did his body make him cry?

Eddie hastily wiped at his cheeks, seeing his hands coming away black from the eyeliner. Fuck. There was no way he was hiding the fact that he was crying.

"Yeah, me too," Eddie replied bitterly, still wiping his cheeks. What was the fastest way out of here? The best way to get out of Steve's place without a dozen people seeing that he had been crying?

Suddenly, that didn't matter anymore as Eddie's flight instinct kicked in and he stormed out of Steve's room. If he just moved fast enough, maybe he'd be fine.

He hustled down Steve's stairs to the front door, scooping his boots up without putting them on and running into his front yard. His socks instantly got wet from the moisture in the grass, but that didn't stop Eddie as he all but sprinted down the block. There were people out in the streets still, but it was dark enough Eddie hoped they couldn't really tell who he was.

He managed to stop and pull his boots on, the wet fabric feeling disguising against his feet but better than staying here. He didn't bother taking the long way home, instead ducking towards someone's house and gracelessly climbing over their fence into their yard. One of his beer bottles slipped out of the case and smashed on the ground, causing a racket. But Eddie didn't stop to even curse at his luck, he was already jogging through this person's yard towards the tree line so he could disappear into the night. All he wanted was to crawl into his shit bed, in his shit trailer, and drown in his shit life to try and forget about Steve Harrington's shit party.

PT5

#me 🤝 the Duffer brothers breaking Steve's heart on Halloween #to the ppl who wanted Robin to intervene in my Tooth and Nail foc #I'm probably going to do that here instead #my_writing #my writing #steddie #eddie munson #steddie fic #steve harrington

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promptling · 6 months ago

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THE VAMPIRE LOVERS ( 1970 ) change pronouns as needed.

the book is closed, i pray, forever.

the enemies i seek are no ordinary mortals.

they are murderers from beyond the grave.

a vampire can be destroyed only by a stake through the heart or decapitation.

it's a lovely party.

i think he's very handsome.

must you go? it's so early.

she keeps staring at you.

bad news?

a dear friend of mine is dying.

you will forgive me, leaving you like this?

is there anything i can do?

it is a long journey.

we must ride all night.

goodbye and safe journey.

you did frighten us last night.

the estate is so big, i lost myself for hours.

you just suddenly appeared, as if by magic.

you must not worry about me.

i like to wander off on my own sometimes.

i do feel we'll be such good friends.

how beautiful you are.

now you're just teasing me.

you were just having a nightmare, that's all.

she seems to get weaker and weaker.

common with young girls.

you're so kind to me.

i swear i shall die when you leave.

i shall never leave you.

i went to the chapel to pray.

those dresses, aren't they beautiful!

your dress is very pretty, but it's for a country girl. in town you must be more sophisticated.

you must take everything off.

i've never worn anything like this.

i feel so daring.

i was only joking to make you feel better.

you must be rational.

don't let your imagination get the better of you.

it's beginning to worry me.

this is a silly book.

wouldn't you like to meet a handsome young man?

you chat on like an old peasant woman sometimes!

you are unkind.

i shouldn't snap at you like that.

i don't want anyone taking you away from me.

i do believe you're jealous!

i want you to love me for all your life!

i hate funerals. hate them!

i thought it rather sad and yet beautiful.

you read so beautifully.

my poor darling.

you know you'll always be safe as long as you're with me?

you've had more than enough tonight.

is she dead?

have you been listening to gossip?

illness is a matter for modern science, not witchcraft.

i'm not a child.

she is a wicked woman, if she's human.

they were all evil in life and remained evil after death.

vampires are intelligent beings.

only now can i see the evil in her eyes.

there's no other way.

it's over.

#sentence starter #rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme #film sentence meme #film sentence starters #rp ask memes #rp ask prompts #rp memes #rp prompts #sentence memes #sentence starters #sentence meme

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fairykery · 1 year ago

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The Vampire Diaries opinions people hate me for:

Forwood is actually a good ship and I wish it didn't have to go down like that, at the expense of Caroline's character.

I ship Klaroline; but Klaus was toxic. I could only ever see this ship becoming endgame if Klaus redeemed himself first.

Caroline had chemistry with everyone except Stefan.

Bamon had potential (and it was literally in the books). If they had come up with a "I had my humanity off" plotline it would have made the ship work🤷🏻‍♀️

Bonezo is a good ship and is clearly less toxic than Bamon; but it only happened to please racist dullena fans that complained about Bamon's romantic implications(even if it happened in the books)

Caroline, Katherine, Bonnie, & Stefan are the most interesting characters of TVD

Jeremy & Anna were cute IDK🤷🏻‍♀️

Matt did not deserve the hate. His feelings were valid. All his friends were killers and he was an abandoned, heartbroken boy, whose mom was a drunk and pedophile, and his only sister & family was killed by the boyfriend of his ex-girlfriend who he loved alot, just cause he decided he was bored. He remained loyal & brave to his friends and they didn't account for their murders and killings & stopped caring for the innocent.

Alaric was not a bad father and teacher. Even if he had his slip-ups he was actually an interesting & good character.

Damon is way too defended In this fandom. People should like the character and not defend the wrongs?! Just how many women has he compelled to sleep with him and to let him drink their blood? And what about what he did to Aaron whitmore? He slaughtered entire families of Innocents even while dating Elena. So all that "sHe mAkEs hiM bEtTeR" crap, is not valid. You can like Ian's acting and the smugness of his character, & like the character for those reasons, without defending the terrible acts of the character.

Delena was a horrible ship. The only reason it's popular is due to the shallow fact that people see Ian as more handsome than Paul. The ship only has good chemistry and looks. Beyond that, there is nothing.

Stefan is still the better man. (Fried humanity/off humanity Stefan don't count just as it goes for all the other vampires) Gaslighting writing through the other characters won't change that(Nice try, Julie P)🤷🏻‍♀️

Alaric and Jo were really cute together. I don't care. They made epic twins together.

Elena is overloved; but overhated at the same time. It's annoying. Just love the kind human girl that she used to be and hate the vicious, selfish girl she became, without hating her for breathing. That simple.

Klelijah(Katherine x Elijah) is not a good ship. Katherine loved stefan. She was only using Elijah to survive, and back then she only pitied him. Elijah also only was with her because of what he did to Tatia

Katherine did deserve better though, even if she did bad things. Making her the biggest/& ultimate devil and pretending there wasn't any good in her was incredibly misogynistic. Like Damon & Klaus did worse things and they get happy lives and good character ends? Like No! Horrible! Katherine's core was a scared little girl who wanted to live a normal human life while still being powerful and beautiful. She was chased for 500 years, had to see her entire family slaughtered, lost a baby because of misogynistic expectations, found her again, just to see her last family die again. Did she do horrible things? Yes; all to survive. But she also saved Jeremy, Damon, Stefan, encouraged Elena to be honest about what she felt for Damon even when she didn't have to.

Caroline did annoying things; but overall she was an interesting character. And she was way too smart and strong as a vampire. I loved seeing it.

Bonnie deserved so much more than the show gave her. I hope she gets her own show one day. A show about witches would be pretty lit.

Rebecca could have tried harder to be kinder and less evil. I get she had centuries of habits she needed to break but still. (Elena stabbing her in the back was still shit though)

Klaus was evil to his default and was an abuser to his family. I'm glad he changed/died for hope; but still I would have been nice if there were other factors to this action.

They shouldn't have thrown away the good of Elijah Mikalson. He didn't deserve that. The way they also tried to pull a Stefan on him.

Haylijah was a cute ship🤷🏻‍♀️

Esther wasn't wrong about her children being evil as vampires. And what she wanted to do with them was have them live as humans.

What the originals did to Marcel was fucked up

What the originals did to Davina was cruel

I wish we could have seen more of the witch that played "the hollow".

Glamorizing Hope's evil side is not "a flex". Again, like the character & actor art; but not the vicious actions.

Hosie should have been canon

That random new original sister was so unnecessary.

Kolvina is the most interesting ship of the entire TVDverse I wish there was more of them

All TVD ships were good I just find: Steroline, Delena, & Klamille to be cringe. Steroline only happened to compensate Forwood/& Klaroline and justify Delena. And Delena only happened because of looks and the love story was trash. Klamille was also a compensation ship to Klaroline so yeah, cringe.

TVD writing, lore, acting, cinematography,. directing is all a 10. The only thing that is trash is the ending and all the romantic entanglement the show had.

Warning: This isn't to start an agree to disagree party. This post is just so that those that agree with me can high-five with me. If you disagree, don't even bother commenting on this post. Everything is a matter of perception & perspective. I'm just sharing mine, while venting. By jumping on this post to fight with me you are immediately self-labeling yourself as entitled. Everyone has their own opinions bestie so don't even.

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 7 months ago

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Tasty- Chapter 2

Summary: Peter just wanted to have one night of fun. Then that night of fun almost killed him. Now it won’t stop haunting him. And he’s loving it. *Curvy/plus size, female reader Warnings: mostly smut with plot, some physical pain

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Peter felt heavy as the sun trickled in through his window and shone on his face. He winced as he tried to turn away from the offending light, his entire body sore like he’d gone a few rounds with Kingpin again. His memory was fuzzy as he slowly pulled himself up. He rubbed his face with his hands and felt a small but sharp shot of pain in his neck. He suddenly tensed and jumped up, his body in a fighting stance as he looked around the room in a panic.

His eyes swept the room quickly, his spider senses not picking up on anything out of the ordinary as he tried to identify any threats. He looked down and realized he was still naked and quickly pulled on some boxers and sweats before moving towards his bedroom door. As he approached he heard movement beyond it and stopped. Peter listened intently, sniffing the air. She’s still here. He flexed his arms as he prepared to open the door. He wrenched it open and sprang into the front room, ready to fight her until he saw a peculiar sight.

Y/N was standing at the oven cooking what looked like pancakes and some eggs. She glanced up at him and smiled. “Good morning, handsome.”

Peter’s eyes were wide, his brow furrowed as he stared at her. She flipped the pancake over and when she was pleased with the color turned and put it on the pile of other pancakes on a plate she had sitting on the counter. “You…” Peter stuttered then cleared his throat. “What the fuck did you do to me last night?”

Y/N turned to face him and gave him a sheepish smile, where he saw two long fangs where her canines would normally be. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to be so harsh. It’s just been a long time since I fed, and like I said, you smell amazing,” she sighed as her eyes slightly fluttered and she put the plate of pancakes down on the table. She gestured to him to sit and eat, turning back and grabbing a plate of eggs and setting it next to the pancakes. Peter just stared at her in shock and disbelief.

“You’re sorry? SORRY?” he yelled as he came closer. “YOU’RE A FUCKING VAMPIRE?”

“Ssh, jeez Peter, you’ll wake the whole building,” Y/N shushed him, rummaging in his small pantry and pulling out the maple syrup.

“Don’t shush me! You “fed” from me last night. You literally drank my blood, and now I’m supposed to just sit down and eat breakfast like that wasn’t one of the most traumatic things that’s happened to me in my life, and I’ve been through some shit,” Peter said exasperatedly.

“I’m sure you have…Spiderman,” Y/N smirked at him.

“Wha–” Peter blinked and recoiled from her.

“I knew it was you from the moment I smelled you,” Y/N said as she sat at the table. “That's why you smell so good. Something about that spider bite did wonders to your blood. Radioactive material in the system is usually pretty nasty-smelling but whatever was in that chemical compound hits different,” she gave him a hungry look up and down like the night before. It didn’t flatter him this time.

“Oh no, don’t you look at me like that,” Peter backed away slightly.

“I’m not going to feed from you again,” she waved away his concern. “I had my fill last night. At least for now,” she winked at him.

Peter glared at her. He was still reeling from the fact that he had had one of the most lust-filled experiences of his life last night but that it had come at near fatal cost to him. A vampire was in his apartment. She was feeding him breakfast. He didn’t feel like he was in danger now so he slowly walked over to the table and sat across from her. He leaned against the table and watched her as she watched him.

“Can you go out in the sun?”

“Only for short periods of time.”

“So it doesn’t burn you?”

“It’s more like an allergy. If I stay in the sunlight too long it will itch and be like a bad sunburn. I guess it could eventually really hurt or even kill me.”

“Does silver kill you? Or wooden stakes through the heart? Garlic? Crosses?”

“No,” she scoffed.

“Then what does?”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know,” Y/N said, a slight sadness in her tone.

Peter paused at that. His eyes narrowed at her as he thought. “How long have you been a vampire?”

Y/N sighed, looking down at the table. “I lost track after a while, but it’s around 350 years I think.”

Peter’s eyes widened. He thought through the history lessons in school, trying to remember what was happening 350 years ago. “You’re older than the United States.”

“By about 100 years, yes,” Y/N nodded, looking bored by the conversation.

“Jesus,” Peter muttered. “Well…why? Why last night? Why here? Why me?”

Y/N smiled at him. “Why not?”

Peter shook his head and rubbed his eyes again. “God, I can’t handle this.”

“Eat, Peter. It’ll make you feel better,” Y/N said, pushing the pancakes towards him. “And while you eat you can listen.”

Peter didn’t trust her but did as she said, heaping some syrup onto the pancakes and taking large bites as he watched her warily.

“I have a proposition for you,” Y/N said as she watched him eat. Peter didn’t answer, the food making him feel better already. “I’ve been traveling around for a long time, feeding where I can without making a big scene. But no one has come close to how scrumptious you are,” she looked at him dreamily. Peter scoffed. “So, I’d like to make a deal.”

Peter finished the pancakes and moved on to the eggs. “And what would that be?” He wasn't sure why he was even entertaining this conversation.

“I’ll help pay your bills, your debts, and I can even help you with your Spiderman-ness, if you’ll let me feed from you once a month.”

“Excuse me?” Peter choked on the eggs, coughing roughly. “You seriously think I would just let you do that to me again?”

“Like I said, I was pretty rough last night. It had been a long time since I last fed and I was feeling pretty desperate. I can make it much more gentle,” she reassured him.

Peter swallowed loudly, crossing his arms as he eyed her distrustingly. “So I let you hurt me every month, and you’ll be like my sugar mama?”

Y/N laughed at that. “Yes, I guess so. But it won’t hurt, I promise.”

Peter sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers. “I still can’t fully comprehend the fact that vampires are real, let alone the fact that I’m even considering letting one drink my blood so I can get my bills paid.”

“Living in America,” Y/N joked, shrugging her shoulders.

Peter chuckled at her joke. “How exactly would you make it…not hurt?”

Y/N’s smirk returned as she cocked an eyebrow at him. “I have my ways.”

Peter blushed as he remembered how she had made him cum the night before. He thought about how if that’s the way she needed to feed from him, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. You masochist, he thought ruefully. He sighed heavily. “Alright, deal.”

Y/N brightened at that, a small giggle falling from her lips. “Thank you.” She suddenly stood and started to gather her things, heading towards the door.

“Wait, where are you going?” Peter asked, standing up with her. “Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, figure this out? Like a schedule?”

“Don’t worry, handsome. I’ll find you,” Y/N winked at him before shutting the front door behind her.

@aoi-targaryen

#marvel #smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #spiderman #spiderman x reader #vampire!reader #vampire #chapter 2 #short series #tom holland #curvy reader #peter parker x curvy!reader #spiderman x curvy!reader

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crownedinmarigolds · 2 months ago

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any that you haven't answered yet for Khloe and Noa please!

Ahhh omg the pressure! (Haha thank you!) I'll just pick a couple of faves! <3

(we love being tit-height in our house) 15. Are they presumed to be dead or are they still acting as though they are alive to the general public? 16. How good are they at acting “alive”? Khloe at this time still acts alive. She still goes to work, still occasionally out of habit eats something that isn't blood, still tries to go to church every once in a while. She has a lot of merits and flaws that make her appear near completely alive - and that's possibly the scariest part of this situation for her. Her heart beats, she feels so much and still craves things outside of blood. She sees a difference between herself and Christian and Kyle who are a bit more classically vampire though still Thinblood. She can taste while to them everything not blood is like ash, she feels her urges and they're fine without them. She heals almost like a normal human too, which worries her when it comes to the idea of being staked or severely hurt. How close is she to life? Is this fake? It keeps her up in the wee hours thinking about it. She worries greatly about the day her parents want to see her again. They live out of state for now, but how long can she not see them when she used to visit all the time? She has to hide her boyfriend from them due to his nosferatu flaw, and she can't exactly house her family as she's a shit-starter in the Thinblood Revolution. When does she just disappear from her old life all together?

31. Do they have a ghoul? Noa and Nyth's ghoul is named Julian de Leon, a very handsome young man they picked up in 1990 in Las Vegas right as shit was about to go down between the Giovanni and Camarilla. They realized they needed some help fast if they were going to survive the incoming turmoil. Nyth requires the ghoul work more than she does, but he can't ghoul due to being a Thinblood, so Noa foots the bill for this one. Her ghouling process is not the normal feeding of blood, but through a sanctifying kiss. She found out through a dangerous Puttanesca cousin that her kiss can blood bond, so she gives Julian a small kiss every so often to maintain the bond but gives him no supernatural ability through it. This keeps him harmless to them.

32. Do they like their ghoul if they do have one? She doesn't care much for Julian, but he's useful to Nythanel so she tolerates him. Julian is crazy for Noa, but is a wet paper towel who keeps in his place during his time under her domination. Any satisfactions beyond a head pat and the provision of basic needs and enrichment are placated by Nyth, who Julian isn't blood-bonded to therefore he doesn't really want to indulge with. It's a pretty bad situation! <3 Julian longs for the night Senora Hidalgo leaves her door unlocked, but Noa does not feel an ounce of affection for him.

x3c

#khloe #oc ask game #vtm oc ask game #wilted roses #thinblood #vtm #vampire the masquerade #answered asks #lilnoctus #ahhh thank yoU!!#the poisoned peach: atl by night #hecata #noa #julian

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munsonsfairy · 2 years ago

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For a valentines fic can I pls request Eddie being your first real valentine ☺️ thank you!

picnic 🧺🍓🎈

“sweetheart? are you awake?” eddie gently knocks on your bedroom door. the smell of bacon hint your senses before you opened your eyes. you heard eddie put a table down on the night stand and get into the bed with you.

“i know you’re awake because i can see you trying to hind that precious smile from me.” eddie came from behind you and whispered, “if you don’t get your sleepy butt up, i will eat all these delicious cinnamon rolls by myself.”

“I’M UP! you are so not going to finish the icing without me this time!” eddie chuckled with how easy it was to get through you.

once you and him were situated, you began digging into the lovely breakfast eddie put together. you were so excited for the cinnamon rolls, that you forgot what today was.

eddie just sat there like a kicked puppy while you melting into the sweet taste of icing, “no ‘happy valentine’s day baby?’ or ‘thank you for being the most amazing boyfriend ever?’”

you looked over with wide eyes and saw eddie was genuinely shocked that you forgot.

“oh, eds, how could i forget! c’mere sweet thing,” you gave him a big kiss with icing on your lips just to make him laugh, “happy valentine’s day. thank you for being my forever.”

he smiled, “hmm, much better. so! i hope you have your day completely open because we have plans! once you finish your 5 star breakfast, i want you to get pretty because we have a picnic to attend to later this afternoon!”

“oooo, where is this taking place?”

“now if i tell you, it would ruin the surprise, sweetheart,” he kissed you one more time then let you finish eating.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚

a couple hours have passed and you’re currently sitting in front of your mirror adding the final touches to your hair. eddie still had not told you where you two were going.

you had butterflies in your tummy the entire time you were getting ready. it was the first time anyone had gone out of their way to show you real love during valentine’s day. eddie is the first relationship where you feel unconditionally loved. there was never a moment where you questioned if he loved you and if you did, eddie was always there to reassure.

he will always go above and beyond to show you how much you matter to him. you remember one day you were feeling a bit insecure and your mind kept telling you ‘eddie could do so much better than you.’

when you finally told him how you were feeling, he stood on top of the table at the diner and yelled, “i am so fucking in love with y/n and no one will ever change that!”

yeah, i guess you could say you got lucky with eddie munson. he is one of a kind.

“sweetheart! are you ready!?” eddie called from downstairs since he was ready a long time ago. you wanted to make sure you looked perfect, so you tried taking your time in getting ready.

you checked yourself in your mirror one last time and dashed out the door.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚

the drive to the “unknown” location was very familiar. i mean it is hawkins, so there’s only some many places you and eddie could go to.

the two of you sat in comfortable silence while eddie’s music softly played in the background. his hand was holding yours and sometimes his thumb would move against your skin.

“are you excited?”

“you know i am. although, i would love to know where we’re going but i guess a surprise every once in a while is needed.”

eventually, eddie drove into a small parking lot that led to lovers lake. it suddenly clicked where you two were going.

there was an area off the path that was in the middle of some trees. the sun shined just right during the day. you and eddie would always hang out there before dating. it was the perfect place to escape the horrible residents of hawkins.

during spring, flowers would bloom all around there. sometimes, you felt like you were bella in twilight and eddie was the handsome vampire trying to convince you to stay human.

suddenly, eddie stopped in his tracks and turned to you, “can you close your eyes for me? i will hold your hand to make sure you don’t trip.”

trusting him, you interlock your fingers with is and closed your eyes. it was obvious that eddie put a lot of effort into this picnic.

“just one more step… and, open!”

you were met with a white sheet with a box of pizza, lotr books, flowers, and chocolate strawberries sitting on top. eddie also brought a jug of welch’s grape juice (your favorite) in his jacket.

as simple as it was, the fact this was eddie’s idea made your heart sore! you also loved the fact that all your favorite things were here.

“oh, eddie, this is perfect! this is exactly how i pictured it!” you wrapped yourself around his waist and thanked him a hundred times.

“no need to thank me, sweetheart. you deserve everything and more! now, shall we?”

eddie extended his arm out and slightly bowed. you giggled and went to go sit on the soft sheet.

you were about to question when he set it all up until you heard steve from afar, “have fun love birds!”

“i see you had help.”

“in exchange for a beer,” eddie groaned.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚

“moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars,” eddie read as he laid on your stomach.

the pizza was long gone and so were the strawberries. you two laughed and talked about your future until you wanted eddie to read to you.

the sky that was once a bright blue was now pink and orange. of course, you’d have to go home but you just wanted to lay with eddie here— playing with his curls while he reads lord of the rings for the hundredth time.

if only the town saw how easy it is to love eddie munson. for them to see the person they’re missing out on. you were grateful everyday to be loved by him.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson season 4 #eddie munson netflix

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lucky-clover-gazette · 1 year ago

Text

Never Kill a Boy on the First Date

2.5K-word Buffy AU Vidow One-Shot, written for @fsfrightfight

“I’m sorry I haven’t brought it up sooner,” Shadow says, insecure in a way Vio rarely sees him. “I thought you, uh, didn’t like me anymore. Since I’m all vampy now.”

Vio’s jaw drops.

“You thought I would like you LESS because you’re a vampire?”

read the rest on ao3 or under the cut:

It’s Vio’s night to patrol the cemetery, fair and square.

Yes, it had been insulting when the others gave him Friday night because they knew he’d have no plans. But it’s not like they’d been wrong—he would have ended up reading no matter what. He might as well do it here, alone, propped up against a headstone and tapping a pencil steadily against the ground.

Someone seems to have missed the memo on the ‘alone’ part, though.

“Viiiiii.”

“Oh my god, what?”

Vio’s head swivels to see a familiar figure lounging theatrically against a headstone. Shadow grins, clearly pleased to have his undivided attention.

“Hi, Vio,” Shadow greets with a lazy wave.

Vio blinks slowly, his eyes adjusting to the distant darkness. “Hi, Shadow.”

“What are you doing out here at this time of night, handsome?”

Vio absolutely does not blush. Not perceptibly, at least, in the semi-light-polluted suburban darkness.

“Annotating,” he says, raising his pencil. “And hunting vampires.”

“At least the second part is cool,” says Shadow. “Seen any yet?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

The vampire gasps in fake-offense as Vio removes another heavy tome from his purple backpack. Shadow eyes it curiously, joining Vio where he sits.

“Ancient texts?” Shadow asks, eyes narrowed in the dark. Vio switches his book light from the novel he’s been marking up for fun to the ‘ancient text’ in question.

“Not quite,” he says with a smirk, revealing the cover to Shadow. “The Once and Future King, chapters fourteen through eighteen.”

Shadow’s nose wrinkles. “Oh, fuck that.”

“If you’re going to loiter here, I might as well help you pass AP Lit.”

“I’m doing just fine on my own, Vio,” Shadow says, rolling his eyes. “I have, like, an 84 overall. That’s almost a B+.”

“You never do the readings.”

“Yet I manage to get good grades anyway. ‘Cuz I’m a fucking genius.”

“You don’t even use SparkNotes!”

“SparkNotes are for cowards. I raw-dog my essays like god intended.”

Vio pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “If I read it out loud,” he groans, “will you listen?”

Shadow immediately pulls out his earbuds, but Vio rips them away. “These are so tangled,” he observes, already working through the knots with nimble fingers. “You’re going to, like, electrocute yourself.”

“Y’know, I think you’re pretty electrocute yourself.”

Vio scowls. Shadow plops down next to him.

“I won’t listen,” he says, oh-so-casually leaning against Vio, “but you can still read.”

Vio nods and begins. And while his mouth says the words on the page, his mind quickly wanders, not not distracted by the feeling of Shadow’s body beside his own.

Did Shadow just call him cute? And handsome? It’s not unusual behavior per se, but it’s still baffling as hell. Shadow can’t possibly want him, not after all the misfortune Vio’s mere existence has brought him.

It had all just happened so fast: their first kiss after the fall formal, the surprise vampire attack, Shadow taking a bite to save Vio, and Vio using his connections as Slayer to leave his newly-undead friend(?)’s soul intact. They’d stepped away from the dance for less thann ten minutes, and as a result Shadow’s life had been changed forever.

They still haven’t really discussed it, beyond the necessary information about Shadow’s new form. As a vampire with a soul, he gets along just fine with the other slayers and the Watcher they all share. He’s a willing ally to their team whenever the Hellmouth sends a monster of the week their way. He’s confided in Vio about the highs and lows of his new existence, and Vio has supported him unflinchingly the entire time.

But there is no way Shadow still has any intimate interest in Vio, beyond the powerful Slayer’s blood he willingly supplies. And while Shadow only drinks from Vio (“You got him turned,” Blue had said, “so it’s your responsibility to keep him alive.”), they have no such bitey plans tonight.

But despite his huffiness, despite the impossibility of the dynamic they’d shared before, Vio is glad that Shadow came to keep him company. Things are calm, things are good, there’s a routine in place and everyone’s on the same page. Vio could almost call it settled completely.

But they still haven’t addressed that goddamn kiss.

“We can talk about it,” Shadow offers, and Vio’s heart stops.

“I—what?”

Shadow’s amused smile speaks for itself.

“Oh my god,” Vio says, placing the book on the ground. “I didn’t.”

He puts his head in his hands. What kind of absolute moron confuses the words he’s reading with the words he’s saying? That’s the kind of bullshit that happens on TV, and he cringes at it every time!

“Hey, no, listen,” Shadow says, losing his previous smugness. He gently grabs Vio’s wrists and lowers them back down to his lap. “Vio, look at me.”

He does. Shadow’s eyes have the same unnatural glow present with every vampire he slays, which for the record is a lot of vampires.

“I’m sorry I haven’t brought it up sooner,” Shadow says, insecure in a way Vio rarely sees him. “I thought you, uh, didn’t like me anymore. Since I’m all vampy now.”

Vio’s jaw drops.

“You thought I would like you less because you’re a vampire?”

Shadow throws up both hands, annoyed but relieved. “Forgive me for assuming that you, Vio the Vampire Slayer, would perhaps have some reservations about kissing a vampire.”

“Shadow, roughly sixty percent of my self-indulgent fantasies involve a handsome vampire kissing me.”

“Really?” Shadow asks, perking up. “Any vampire in particular?”

Vio blushes, rubbing the back of his neck. “Only one in recent history,” he admits. “Ever since you turned, that is.”

Shadow appears to be thinking something through. “Holy shit,” he finally says, a grin spreading onto his face. “You must have been so psyched when I turned into a vamp.”

“Of course not, that would be awful!”

“Oh, come on,” Shadow teases, poking Vio’s arm, “I know your main priority was saving my soul or whatever, but there had to be some part of you that was also just like, ‘hell fucking yeah, vampire boyfriend.’”

Vio shakes his head, stopping their banter in its tracks. “I shouldn’t have been out there with you in the first place,” he says. “Even just outside the gym, I should have expected to attract monsters. Meanwhile, you had no idea about the Slayer stuff or the Hellmouth or vampires even existing at all, and I put you directly in harm’s way. There’s a reason the others don’t date, Shadow, it’s dangerous to be close to a Slayer.”

“Vio, no,” Shadow replies, his voice suddenly gentle. “I don’t blame you for what happened. At all.”

“You should,” mutters Vio, folding in on himself. He brings his knees up to his chest and hugs them, his back pressing uncomfortably against the headstone.

“I also don’t think you take pleasure in my misfortune,” Shadow adds. He lightens his tone slightly, cautiously, and eyes Vio to see if it’s the right move. “Honestly, you’re probably worse off than I am.”

“How so?” Vio asks, trading self-loathing for reluctant curiosity.

“Uh, you’re a vampire Slayer dating a vampire,” says Shadow. “I’m just some guy with fangs.”

Vio raises an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware we were dating.”

“Everyone else is.”

“No they’re not!”

“What the hell else would they assume, when we excuse ourselves to a dark corner of the library at least three times a week?”

“We do that so you can suck my blood!” Vio exclaims, “Not so we can—”

Shadow scoffs. “Oh yes, because me nearly sucking you dry to sustain my lifeforce is the less weird option of the two.” He makes a face and lifts a finger. “Don’t say it, I know that came out wrong.”

Despite himself, Vio smiles. Relaxes. Leans closer. “Well, if we are dating,” he says, intertwining Shadow’s fingers with his own, “is this, right now, a date?”

Shadow looks at their hands and then back at Vio. “If you want it to be.”

Of course Vio wants. He’s always wanted, why else would he have taken Shadow outside the dance in the first place?

With the softest tone he can muster, he begins to speak. “Shadow, I—”

A monster roars, and it’s not Vio’s boyfriend.

He jumps to his feet and assumes a fighting stance, his Slayer senses kicking in immediately. Swiveling his head, Vio sees a very unfriendly vampire headed straight in their direction, newly risen from a nearby grave.

How the fuck hadn’t he noticed sooner? He’s supposed to sense when there are vampires around!

“Not again,” groans Shadow, cowering behind Vio like the human he so recently used to be. But Shadow isn’t human, he’s a vampire with a soul, whose presence must have masked the appearance of the true enemy.

They were going to have to figure that out in the future, if patrol dates become a normal thing.

But Vio shouldn’t get ahead of himself.

“I was busy,” he growls, kicking the vampire square in the chest. The vamp looks to be in his mid-forties, still all dolled up in his funeral suit. Very much soulless, with a fucked-up transformed face and absolutely nothing to lose.

Vio’s supernatural strength sends his opponent backwards, his back slamming against a particularly tall headstone. Vio reaches inside his jacket pocket while the vampire recovers, horrified to realize that he left his favorite stake at home.

“Shit,” he mutters, using a precious second to glance behind his back. Shadow half-hides behind a gravestone, clearly experiencing some kind of flashback to the last fight he experienced. Vio wants so badly to comfort his friend—but then again, there would probably be nothing more comforting in this moment than Vio kicking ass.

Without a stake or a stake-adjacent object, though, Vio’s options for vamp obliteration are limited. Beheading seems unlikely. Sunrise is hours away. He’ll definitely get arrested if he tries to set a fire. And while he does have supernatural proficiency with hand-to-hand combat, so do the vampires he fights—plus they’re speedy, too.

Capitalizing on Vio’s hesitation, the vamp clasps cold hands around his neck. He’s so strong, and squeezing with such force, that he’s able to fully lift the teenager’s body off the ground.

Placed in such a predicament without his trusty stake, Vio feels a combination of fear, panic, and embarrassment. Green, Red, and Blue would never make such a stupid mistake.

Mistake… missed stake.

Vio would laugh, if he could breathe.

“Hey, asshole!” a familiar voice shouts. “Get your dead hands off my boyfriend!”

Vio opens eyes he hadn’t even noticed himself closing. Is that… a cord around the vampire’s neck?

Shadow yanks backwards by both earbuds, releasing Vio from the vampire’s grasp. Shadow himself seems surprised by the strength he now possesses, on par with both his ally and opponent. He wears the gruesome face of a fully-transformed vampire, and while Vio rather likes Shadow’s normal face, he’s glad to see a monster now.

Of course, Vio thinks, his eyes full of wonder. Last time, it had been a human and a Slayer against one nasty vampire. This time there are two nasty vampires, one of whom Vio has apparently been dating for the past several months. At the risk of overconfidence, Vio much prefers these odds.

Snap! The cord quickly loses its effectiveness, breaking in half against the vampire’s neck. Still, the diversion has given Vio enough time to retrieve the most stake-like resource available.

He lifts the pointed object and locks onto the vampire, who now wrestles with Shadow against a headstone. One particularly brutal knock of Shadow’s head against the stone humbles the teenage vampire, and the resulting whiplash allows his opponent to swipe a claw across his face.

Shadow cries out in pain, losing his hold on the enemy. This time, Vio is ready.

“Get lead poisoning, idiot,” he quips, and then plunges his #2 pencil into the vampire’s heart. The monster turns to dust, suit and all.

“Fuuuuuuck,” groans Shadow, still bracing himself against a tombstone. Vio frowns and runs to his side, cupping his soft humanlike face. There’s still a cut, but it should heal just fine, especially since he was transformed when he took the hit.

“Are you all right?” Vio asks anyway, searching Shadow’s eyes. “You didn’t have to—”

Shadow just smiles. “Yeah, but I wanted to. I’m not just some lame-ass human anymore, I can hold my own.”

He’d tried to protect Vio the last time, too. The irony of that still stings—a completely average person, risking his life in defense of someone Chosen to smite evil. Vio still feels guilty about Shadow’s misfortune, but at least now they’re on even footing.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Shadow continues, taking both of Vio’s hands. He looks concerned too, and Vio realizes that Shadow is still not quite used to the sight of him in moral peril. He’s not sure how to explain to Shadow that to him, Red, Blue, Green, and Zelda, mortal peril is just another Tuesday.

Vio squeezes Shadow’s hands. “I’m okay, I promise. I know that must have been scary to see.”

“Yeah, a little bit. You were, like, off the ground.”

“I get into tight spots pretty often,” Vio admits, “especially while patrolling. I understand if you’d prefer to keep our dates out of the cemetery in the future.”

Shadow shakes his head. “Nah, I’m no coward. And besides, I’d feel better knowing that someone has your back.”

“I… am not opposed to your company,” Vio mutters, and Shadow takes it for the grand declaration it is.

“Besides,” Shadow says, sitting back down against their original headstone of choice, “we definitely need to workshop your punning.”

“What’s wrong with lead poisoning?” Vio demands, offended.

“Pencils haven’t had lead in them since, like, 18-whatever-the-fuck.”

Vio allows Shadow to drag him to the ground. They settle against each other, just as they’d been before—but somehow, everything feels a little bit different. “Well,” Vio asks, “what else could I have said?”

He knows Shadow is pleased to have a say, even if he’s acting nonchalant. “I dunno. You could have killed him with the book and told him to read it and weep.”

Vio rolls his eyes. “I can’t stab anyone with a book, Shadow.”

“Not with that attitude, you can’t!”

Oh my god, Vio thinks, he is so annoying. So annoying, and so persistent, and so, so, so perfect.

“Hey Shadow… can we kiss again?”

Shadow grins, his fangs glinting in the moonlight. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Vio is admittedly psyched as their lips finally meet.

Hell fucking yeah, vampire boyfriend.

#fsff23 #four swords #four swords manga #vio link #shadow link #vidow #my writing #there's so much cringe teenage dialogue in this #also this is the last vampy thing i'm writing for a while i'm getting bite burnout (affectionate)#fs

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