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idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 3 months ago

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(1) Hotel Girl - Carlos Sainz

Finally. A holiday. 5 days of some much needed and well deserved rest. Well, apart from the occasional email he'd have to send and phone call he'd have to take. But, it was a small price to pay for a working week of pure bliss.

Carlos had decided to spend part of his summer break by himself in the bougiest hotel he could possibly find. He would have rented a villa to himself, but then he'd have to cook, hire a chef or go out every night.

Cooking was not his idea of relaxing, a chef would be a waste for just him, and going to restaurants every night by himself was the literal definition of sad. He didn't want photos of him dining alone circulating the internet, no way.

At least in a hotel, he had room service, housekeeping, and food served on site so he wouldn't have to venture far. He might explore the local town if he felt like stretching his legs, but he wouldn't force himself just for the sake of tourism.

After spending what felt like hours travelling, going through menial airports and checking into the hotel, Carlos was finally able to switch his mind off and relax in his hotel room. It was too much room for one person, but he was in the position where he could treat himself without batting an eyelid.

Once he had unpacked, he figured he'd take a little wander around his home for the next few days. The hotel was a relatively new build, lots of glass and neutral greys and whites. The glass allowed for views of the stunning scenery in pretty much every area of the hotel.

The hotel was located on a vast and secluded beach somewhere in the Bahamas, which was plenty far enough away from anyone who could personally know him, as well as far away enough from the press. It was out of the way, so much so that there was only one road to go in and out of the hotel.

He wandered through the lobby, smiling back at the personnel on the desk before turning away to mind his own business. He walked past the different restaurants on offer, even if he didn't think that he'd be utilising them too much during his stay.

He also strolled by the spa, which he made a mental note to pay one or two (or more) visits to. Carlos could smell the essential oils from a mile away, and the soft tones of the typical spa music soothed his soul instantly. Well, for the meantime, anyway. God did a massage sound good right about now.

Having the stress and tension worked out of his muscles was exactly what he needed. Reading the board, he saw that he'd need to book at reception for his massages. He'd probably be spending every day in there, but that wasn't a problem for him. It was his holiday, and he could do whatever the hell he wanted to.

Now all he really had to check out was the pool, but he'd seen plenty of pictures when he booked online. He was too tired to walk down to the beach today due to the jetlag, so Carlos ultimately decided to take himself off to his room so he could rest properly.

Once he was back in his suite, Carlos wanted to relax on his balcony for a moment. He took himself over to the mini fridge and selected an ice cold water which he would undoubtedly be paying through the roof for, but he'd deal with it.

The balcony had a stunning view of the pool, and he could see the golden sands and the sun setting behind the horizon as it glittered on the surface of the water. There was a light breeze to try and combat the still sweltering heat that was emanating from the sun.

As he nosied around, he spotted couples on their terraces, entangled in each other's embrace. Now that was a view he could be doing without. Luckily for Carlos, all he had to do was turn his head left, and the rest of the world faded into obscurity. He could focus on the mesmerising view of the ocean and the pure silence that enveloped him.

He heard a few screen doors open and close, the patter of footsteps quietening down after the click. For a while, it was just him and his thoughts. No racing, no people, just him and the silence. It was a welcomed change, his mind finally allowed to stop rocketing around like it was on a track and it could just lull into a calm tranquility.

He didn't know how long had gone by before he heard a soft hum carried on the wind. He thought everyone had gone inside, or to dinner. But he only heard one set of footsteps on the tiled terrace surface.

Carlos would normally have just ignored the other person making their way outside, but something inside him told him to turn his head. His intuition was fully correct when his eyes landed upon her.

He couldn't quite tell whether he was thankful for noticing her, or very very ungrateful for having found something that could take up his thoughts and replace the peace he was supposed to have. She had taken a seat on her sun lounger - just like he had.

Her hair was pulled back in a bun at the back of her head, a few curls springing out from the uniformity. Her body was wrapped in a dress of colours swirling around her figure as long legs protruded from the skirt.

It was like her skin was shimmering under the light of the setting sun. Her eyes were hidden from him behind sunglasses, but from what he could see, the rest of her face was gorgeous enough to intrigue him.

She was reading a book, he couldn't see the title from where he was, but she seemed to be pretty engrossed. He tried to tear his eyes away, avert his gaze back over to the ocean and the small waves rippling across the top of the water, but he couldn't.

There was a view that he was much more interested in, and a view that he could have watched until the moon took its place as the beacon in the sky. She was breathtaking. The sight of her was like seeing the Aurora Borealis for the first time, an encapsulating experience that could never quite be forgotten. She was like a goddess, put there purely to tempt him.

Carlos' mind instantly took him down the dangerous rabbit hole of asking too many questions. He became his own detective, interrogating himself on the minimal information he had on her. From what he could see, there didn't appear to be a ring on her finger, and there wasn't a towel on the sun lounger beside her.

It seemed as if she was all alone. Maybe she was like him: taking a vacation away from the chaos of her life. Maybe she too had been entranced by the pool, the spa and the beach. The peace, the quiet and the serenity.

Even if this was the case, unknowingly, she had taken away his ability to experience those things. He was mentally scolding himself for suddenly becoming so interested on some random girl he had seen on her hotel room balcony, since he was supposed to be having some well-deserved him time.

Yet, he wasn't that lucky.

In a moment of weakness, Carlos coughed slightly. He wanted to see if she'd look up to see where the noise had come from, but she sat unmoving. Her eyes were seemingly still glued to the pages of the book, which she would turn every now and then. He couldn't see past the sunglasses.

As the sun set further behind the horizon, she still stayed on the balcony with her book. And so did Carlos. He would only go in once she did, even if that took him until the early hours of the morning.

While he was staring, he took the time to run through the myriad of questions that he was asking himself. Why the hell was he so enticed by this random girl on the balcony? Why was he letting himself get so worked up by her? Who was she? Her room seemed to be nearer reception, so that must have meant that her room number was below the one hundreds- no. Stop.

He would not stoop to borderline stalking the girl on the balcony. No. That wasn't the kind of guy he was. If he was really interested, he could try and talk to her if he saw her around. He wasn't going to go full Joe Goldberg on her. Yet.

Checking his watch, he saw that it was nearing on eleven pm. She had shuffled around in her seat a few times, the hardness of the sun lounger becoming uncomfortable after prolonged sitting. But, she was making good headway in her book.

She had gotten through a chunk of pages, maybe a quarter of the full thing. He wondered if it was interesting and if she was enjoying reading it, or if she was just reading it for the sake of finishing it and would then not recommend it to her friends.

Was she the popular one among her friends? She seemed to be. She seemed like the nice one that everyone would lean on for help, or the reliable one. He probably just thought that because that was the girl he wanted her to be. For both of their sakes.

Who was he kidding, he was unbelievably captivated by the girl on the balcony.

As the minutes ticked towards midnight, the girl put her bookmark back in her book and closed it, swinging her long legs over the side of the lounger and standing. He watched her hips sway as she took the few steps into her room, sliding the door shut with a soft click that sounded a lot louder in the quiet of the night.

Carlos was left as the only person sat outside. His mind was conflicted, to say the least. He was annoyed that he was so attached by this girl he had seen across the hotel complex, and it was so aggravating. Here he was, trying to relax, but no. The universe had other ideas.

It just had to throw a beautiful woman in the mix to rattle everything up. The weariness he felt was definitely exuberating his thoughts of her, but now he had to find some common sense, get a grip, and act like a normal, completely sane human being.

With a sigh, Carlos took himself back inside as well. He brushed his teeth, took in his own weary expression and went straight to bed. A relieved groan escaped his lips as he collapsed down on the bed, his body quickly succumbing to the grasp of sleep.

There were no dreams plaguing his mind through the night, and he woke up to a light knocking on the door. His back cracked as he got out of bed and slowly stepped over to his hotel room door. Opening it, he saw a small, old lady with a large kart behind her.

"Housekeeping?" she smiled, her eyes wandering up and down his body.

She had a light blush on her cheeks, clearly slightly flustered by the shirtless, handsome man that she was looking at. "Could you come back in half an hour, please?" he asked, and she nodded immediately.

"Of course, sir, of course. Have a nice day."

"You too," he returned, closing the door behind him. He'd just head down to breakfast so he could let the nice lady do her job. The room wasn't messy at all since all he had done was sleep and sit on the balcony to watch- oh yeah. Her.

He had escaped the thought of her during his rest and the few minutes of his morning, but his mind had become tired of running away from her. He wished he could just ignore her, but there was that small part of him that wished he could catch another tantalising glimpse of her.

Carlos dressed himself and sorted out his hair somewhat before heading out of the door with his room key and wallet in his pocket. He would have just done room service for breakfast, but he wanted to give the woman some space.

She was in the room next door and she flashed him a kind smile as he peered in the door. The walk through the opulent lobby was short, and he could feel a small sniffle coming on due to the aircon.

And just out of the corner of his eye, he could've sworn he had saw her. He turned his head, only to see another relatively pretty woman. But, she didn't hold a candle to the girl who was reading the mystery book on her balcony the previous night.

He shook his head, trying to waft away the thoughts of her as he tried to have a peaceful breakfast. Carlos continued to walk, keeping his mind fixed on the thought of breakfast as opposed to visions of her.

Just as he thought he had torn his mind away from the wonder that she was, he saw her. The real her, this time. Not a random woman who had some similarities to her when he didn't have the chance to look at her properly. There she was.

She was wearing just a pair of blue wash shorts and plain white top, but it didn't matter. She was the single most stunning creature he had ever laid his eyes upon. He watched her walk down a corridor, and he spotted a sign that they were serving breakfast at one of the cafes in the hotel.

Carlos couldn't help himself but follow on, keeping his distance so he wouldn't seem like too much of a creep. But, who was he kidding? He was being creepy, practically following her to where she was going just to eat breakfast. He couldn't help but be entranced by the way that her hips swayed side to side as she walked and the way her figure looked. Awe-inspiring was all he could attach to her.

She settled down at a table, all by herself yet again. The woman picked up her menu, her shining eyes scanning over the contents. Carlos strategically picked a table that wasn't too near her, but near enough that he could happily see her. He just saw the first thing on the menu and decided on that, since he had much prettier things to be looking at.

As the waiter approached her table, his ears picked up to try and suss out the language she was speaking. English, Spanish or Italian, he would be fine. His French was questionable at best, but it was similar enough to Italian and Spanish. Plus, he could always ask Charles if he was in need of any urgent lessons. Well, Charles or Duolingo.

He heard snippets of her conversation, some 'no's' and 'yeses' as well as a nice, polite bout of 'pleases' laced in the exchange. But, even if she was speaking English to the waiter, that didn't mean it was her mother tongue.

But from what he could hear, her accent sounded pretty English, so he felt it was safe to assume that if he did end up talking to her in some delusioned parallel universe, he could aptly communicate with her. As if he would ever get the opportunity to talk to her, though.

Even just the idea of her focus being on him while they engaged in small talk about the weather sent his heart into a spiral of undefinable emotions. It was something he so desperately desired, but also needed to resign himself to the fact that it wasn't going to happen.

When the waiter came to his table next, he was at a loss for what he was supposed to be ordering. He flipped the menu open, his mouth just reading out the first option his eyes found. He didn't mind eggs benedict, he could live with having that for breakfast.

The waiter was gone just as quickly as he came, and Carlos was left with just his jug of water and his thoughts. Again. God, this holiday was such a bad idea. He tried to take in the surroundings of the restaurant, the theme being beachy, but still with a hint of luxury.

He allowed his eyes to flit over to her every now and then, taking in the way her eyes studied the room around her and the way in which she sipped at her cappuccino. From the distance, he saw the slight lipstick mark that was left behind on the white ceramic.

Her food got there before his did, and it was exactly as he had ordered his. Eggs benedict. Yes, he had only ordered his since it was the first thing he could make out, but the delusional part of his brain saw it as fate.

Her smile was enchanting as she thanked the waiter, small dimples on her cheeks as her kind eyes looked up at him. He wanted her to smile at him when she looked at him, not some waiter who just brought out her breakfast.

Shortly after, the waiter was back with his eggs benedict, which he wasn't even hungry for anymore. He was hungry for something else. Something a hell of a lot sweeter.

He scarfed down his eggs benedict like a man starved, just so he could be gone before she was. He didn't want to allow himself to stoop to the point of waiting to watch her leave, just so he could see the tantalising way in which her body moved.

He forced himself to walk straight through the hotel, straight through the lobby and right into the elevator before he even had chance to think and wait. By the time Carlos arrived back in his room, the lovely cleaning lady had made the bed and done some general tidying.

He was not going to allow this random girl to ruin his relaxation time, no way. This was about him. No one else but him. So, why not take some time to lounge around the pool? He could go for a swim, catch a little sun, maybe do a sudoku or two. Now that was a proper version of repose.

The quicker he did things, the less his mind would drift back to her, so he quickly packed some things in his backpack. A book of sudokus, sun cream, a towel, and his phone. He checked the room, making sure there was nothing that he was missing before he set off on his leisurely stroll down to the pool.

His footsteps echoed off the tall ceilings of the corridors and the lobby, and he really was appreciating the luxury of the hotel he was staying in. Of course, he had only picked the best for himself, but he was cognizant of the ability to spoil himself a little.

Carlos had the choice of 3 pools around the resort, the first of which being the one located in the spa. Now, it would have been quiet, but he wasn't interested in the soothing music and smell of lavender right now. Instead, he opted for the soft splashes of water and scent of suncream.

The first of the other 2 pools was located by the beach, and the views were absolutely breathtaking. But, there were quite a few people there, so he finally decided on the other pool. There was nothing wrong with it, you could still see the ocean and take in the sights, so he didn't think it was too much of a compromise.

Settling on a sunlounger, Carlos stripped his shirt off and stuffed it into his backpack, allowing himself to soak up the sun. He'd hold off on the suncream for a short while, hoping he wouldn't get burnt on the first day of his holiday.

Leaning back on the lounger, Carlos took a deep breath, taking in the surroundings. There weren't many people around the pool, just the odd couple lazing around with a few people swimming laps. Now this was the peaceful atmosphere he was looking for.

He closed his eyes, feeling his skin soaking up the rays of sunlight. The palm trees around the pool rustled softly in the sea-side breeze, and it took the edge off of the pure heat that was felt all around.

The voices around him were hushed, people conversing in soft tones as to not disturb the quiet of the pool. Around an hour had passed of Carlos lying around on his sun lounger, he decided a dip in the pool was what he was wanting.

He left his stuff where he was sat, knowing it wouldn't get stolen or anything. He took the stairs one at a time, and the temperature of the water was perfect. Carlos swam over to the edge and rested his back against the cool tiles.

He was thoroughly enjoying people watching, mostly just couples their on their holidays. He had seen a few people who seemed to be alone like him, as well as a few families with older children.

He was thankful for his sunglasses so he could observe without being noticed and without seeming like a creep. Well, he might have been slightly creepy towards the girl from the balco- and there she was again.

He scoffed to himself, annoyed that he was letting himself think back to that. She was omnipresent practically, even if she wasn't there physically, she plagued his mind. He thought if he didn't fight the thoughts so much, then they wouldn't be so aggressive in their push to the forefront of his mind.

And just as he thought nothing else could go wrong, he heard the patter of feet on the tiled walkway through the near silence of his surroundings. His heart knew before he had seen her, and as soon as he had raised his head, he was greeted with the sight of the goddess he had seen.

She was wearing a sheer throw over her bikini, and she had a body that looked like it was sculpted by God himself to make her absolutely perfect for Carlos. She sat down at a lounger that was dangerously close to his, and he fully contemplated just sitting in the pool until she eventually left.

As she shrugged the throw off her shoulders and stuffed it into her tote bag, he couldn't help but marvel at the way her skin shone in the sunlight. If only he could just run his hands over her, feel the smoothness under his fingertips...

Alas, that wouldn't be happening.

Again, this was one of those times where he was unbelievably thankful for the genuins invention of sunglasses. His head may have been sat square on his shoulders, but his eyes were looking slightly to the right.

She readjusted her sun lounger, sitting back as she rummaged around in her bag for something. There it was, the book. The colours on the cover were the same, yet he still couldn't quite catch the title of the book. If he could hazard a guess, it was some sort of mystery, based off of the dark blues of the cover.

He couldn't help but see her as the type of girl to read a romance novel, but he wasn't sure. Maybe it was a book about romance, the deep intricate facets of love and devotion to someone. But he wouldn't know.

If he could, he would offer to rub sun cream on her back, his hands lingering for just a little longer than necessary. He knew he wouldn't be able to resist peppering a few kisses down her neck and across her shoulders. Carlos tried to imagine her laugh as she playfully told him to stop it.

He wouldn't stop, leaning his head down and kissing her more just to prove his point. Maybe he'd make a suggestive comment - it would have depended on the mood of the day. Even if that had never stopped Carlos before.

He had to snap himself out of it before his mind went to darker places, not wanting the physical effect of said thoughts to become evident. Now that would have been really really embarrassing. He'd never forgive himself if he let himself go that far.

Every page she turned was like an indicator of time passing by, the bookmark moving through the pages like a stop-motion picture. He wondered if she was enjoying the book, who her favourite characters were. Maybe there were some quotes that she'd remember, some more philosophical or meaningful ones.

If he could figure out the title, he'd give it a read. See if he enjoyed it too.

It was seeming like she was never going to leave, and Carlos could feel his skin becoming dried out by the chlorine, rippled and rough like unconditioned leather. He swam his way over to the edge of the pool, hauling himself out of the water with as much grace as he could.

Water droplets ran down his body as he made his way back over to his sun lounger. Unless he was losing his mind, which was highly likely, he could've sworn her eyes flicked up from the gripping words on the page and onto him.

He saw the blue of her irises, her pupils constricting as she momentarily looked at him. He could have sworn his heart was going to break through his ribs and skin, pouring out for everyone to see. As he sat down, picking up his towel and lazily running it over his body, he tried to take a few deep breaths.

'Get it together' he thought to himself, 'you're being stupid.' He really felt idiotic as he sat there, trying to calm down from something as simple as his random hotel crush looking at him for a moment as he walked by.

It was just human curiosity. That is all it was. She wasn't checking him out, she wasn't looking at him with particular interest. It was plain, simple, inquisitivity.

He draped his towel over the back of the chair so that it could dry in the heat, and he leant back, closing his eyes to try and chill himself out. As he sat there, his thoughts were running wild. He was so consumed by the simplest action, a teeny little look in his direction, and he was already getting frustrated at himself for letting himself feel this way.

"Hey, sorry, excuse me?" a voice broke him out of his thoughts.

A/N - Hey loves! Would really appreciate if you could reblog this, still think I'm shadowbanned for some absurd reason. Hope you enjoyed, been working on this for a short amount of time, and I quite like this one. Love y'all! 💖💖

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writersblockedx · 1 year ago

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Bookshops and Baking

Pairing - Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader Summary - Forced onto a muggle trip with his family, Fred finds entertainment in your bookshop. He can’t help but thinking that maybe he likes you more than most muggles. Warnings - Fred not undertstanding basic text speech, Mentions of alchol Words - 2.2k

A/n - Possible part two ??

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Fred was never fond of the muggle world. It was all waiting. Waiting for them to turn on a light switch rather than casting the words of 'Lumos'. He thought they lived in apathy without the ability to create pranks and joke boxes. To him, most of them went to an office and came back and that was their day. They went through education, settled down with the most practical partner, had kids they were learning to hate and then got buried in the ground. It was ever so simple yet ever so dull.

It wasn't until his dad dragged him out on a muggle trip, that he met you, and his opinion started to change.

Mr Weasley had taken all the kids on a trip to a city in the North of the Country. The weather could only be described as damp and when it started raining, Fred split from the group. He hadn't paid much attention to the building he entered, all he cared for was that it had a ceiling that would protect him from the rain. Wasn't as if he could cast a spell to protect him; strictly no magic in front of muggles and strictly, by his dad's rules, no magic on muggle trips. He liked to think his kids got the full muggle experience.

Fred opened the shop door, a ping sounded from above his head. At first, he was met with books. Many of them. Shelves of them. A library, he presumed. He barely visited them at Hogwarts, never mind a muggle library where you had to search for the very book you wanted rather than call it into your hands. But it was dry and that's all he cared for.

"Hi!" A voice called. He turned, facing the till where you were standing, a customer service smile slapped onto your lips. "Welcome," You grasped a tray from the side of you and offered it to Fred. "Take a brownie, browse, enjoy the plenty of books." Your smile never faulted.

Fred gazed at the baked goods on the tray. Traditional, non-magic, brownies. No love potion mixed into them, or fake-sickness to get you out of class. It was just a brownie. Fred took one, "Thank you." He took his first bite and could have sworn something so good, so gooey, would have to be magic. "This- This is amazing." He spoke, still with a mouthful of chocolate swirling around his mouth.

You smiled but questioned his enthusiasm, "It's just a brownie." You assured.

You weren't sure about the ginger stranger who had walked into the bookshop, but he certainly intrigued you. "Do you have the erm recipe?" He questioned before taking another gulp of the treat.

"It was just on good foods." You answered him, not hiding the amused smile that wouldn't leave your lips.

"What- What is that?"

He really was a strange man, "A website." You told him. Fred almost cursed himself for not remembering about the muggle's favourite invention of the internet; his dad never shut up about it.

"Oh, right, yeah." He mumbled, taking his final bite.

You stepped around the counter and came to face the redhead. "Here," You said, taking his crum cover hand into your own. You took the lid of a pen and started writing the name of the website and then, with a push of confidence, you started writing your own number. "If you've got any more baking cravings, you can always message me." You stopped writing and looked up at him. His eyes were clung to you, wide-eyed as if you could do no wrong as if he could trust you to hold his heart for a lifetime. "I do more than just brownies."

He nodded slowly before realising he should probably say something, "Right," He suddenly couldn't think straight. Maybe it was the brownie. Maybe he was just confused. He had liked pretty girls before but never had one made him feel like this. So flushed, so nervous to even take a breath. "I don't have a phone." He suddenly realised.

Your head dipped to the side, "Oh." You let out.

"I'll get one." He cut in before you could reject him. "I've been meaning to for a while." Well, his dad had really wanted one of the muggle's phones; they called them apples? So he thought they did.

"Well, when you do, I'll be waiting for the message." Your words caused another grin to fall on his lips. "It's Y/n by the way."

"Fred." He returned.

And like that, the two of you had become acquainted. Possibly he was strange, perhaps a little old-fashioned, or maybe he was the first to use not having a phone as a way to reject someone. Either way, Fred ended up lingering in your mind. Dates came in and out of your life, but you found him, just a boy who liked your brownies, yet he had made you feel more than any other date.

Fred was the same. His mind was infatuated with the idea of you...a muggle. It was odd to him. He had nothing against muggles, of course, but he had never seen himself befriending one - never mind it being possibly flirtatious. But as he left the bookshop (without any actual books) he went to one of the muggle 'Apple' stores. There, he finally picked up a phone and would spend the next night trying to figure it all out and swearing on muggles for making everything so difficult.

Now, the thing was Fred had never sent a text. He had sent letters. So when he was faced with typing, he assumed the two were no different.

To Y/n, I can't stop thinking about them brownies. From, Fred.

He became even more confused when only an hour later he received a message in return:

I'll make them again for you sometime - lmk when you're free.

He stared at the muggle message for a while. When he couldn't figure out what you meant by 'lmk', he resorted to going to his dad. He and the rest of the family were awaiting Molly's dinner, lingering by the table when Fred stormed through. His eyes were on the phone until he met his dad and handed the object over.

"What does this mean?" He demanded to know simply because he was so eager to message the girl back.

Arthur flicked his glasses over his eyes and inspected the message. "Is this your muggle girlfriend?" Yelled George who was setting the table.

Fred flicked his head to his twin brother, telling him to, "Shut up," before turning back to his dad.

"Don't tell me he's back at it with that muggle phone." Ginny commented.

"Back at it?" George laughed. "He hasn't put it down. He won't stop talking to someone called Siri?"

"Is that the girl?" Asked Ron, finally looking up from the piece of bread he had been eating.

Fred looked to his siblings for one last time, "No, it's not the girl." He said with a stern tone woven through his words. He finally looked to his dad, "Do you know what it is?"

He nodded and put the phone on the table, "It's one of the muggle text abbreviations. They get lazy when they text on their electronics." He explained.

"Okay, so what does L.M.K mean?"

Arthur shrugged, "Oh, I've no idea."

Shit, Fred thought, but knew he shouldn't say it. He couldn't understand these text abbreviations but the idea of not responding was torturous. So, he did the next best thing.

Without his dad or his siblings, Fred took it upon himself to visit the muggle world by himself. He travelled through the streets, luckily this time they were dry streets, right until he came across the same bookshop. He took a breath like this would take a lot out of him. Then, he put his firm palm on the door and pushed. That same bell rang, addressing his entrance to anyone close.

His eyes went straight to the counter which was empty, only occupied by a tray of cookies. The boy wandered further down, slipping into the maze of the bookshelf before, finally, he caught sight of you. Your hands reaching up, pushing books into their respective positions. You hadn't noticed him at first, completely wrapped up in your own world. He walked towards you, a smile plastered on his lips when he breathed and spoke, "Hi."

You finally turned, your expression moulding into a curious one, "Fred?" You almost giggled. "Didn't think I'd see you here after you ghosted me."

His brows narrowed, "I'm sorry?"

Then you did giggle, "Doesn't matter. How can I help you?"

"I was thinking about you and what you said. And you're right, I am old-fashioned. Completely." He started, not daring to tear from your gaze. "Which is why I'm here and it's why I'm offering to take you out...on a date." He pushed out his hopeful smile, watching your eyes carefully as they filled with some emotion he couldn't pinpoint.

"Okay, Mr old-fashioned." You agreed as if you hadn't been thinking about it since you last saw the boy. "My shift finishes in an hour."

Fred didn't move, "Right."

"So I'll meet you at a restaurant afterwards." You planned. "You choose, message me the address."

That was the worse thing you could have done. But, at that moment, Fred agreed. He spent at least half of that hour scouting for a restaurant. One that was quaint enough to be intimate, but one that was also expensive, somewhere you could wear a nice dress to and you could share a bottle of wine. And when he finally found one, he ordered himself the bottle of wine and sat there waiting until you showed up.

You arrived on the dot. Nervous, but trying to hide it well enough, and once your gaze hit his, a smile grazed your lips. He took you in an embrace before the two of you were seated across from one another. Conversation started flowing as soon as you had a lick of wine. You learnt of the wacky Weasley family, from his twin brother to his parents and all the other siblings in between. He owned a business - one of which you had never heard of - but it certainly did impress you. He claimed he hadn't had much time for dating and that running into yourself was just perfect timing.

So, of course, when the brownie dessert you were sharing started coming to an end, and Fred offered a second date, you agreed. And, on that date, you agreed to a third.

For that one, Fred had arranged every single detail. He would greet you in a shirt and tie, a bouquet of flowers waiting in his hands. You would thank him and accept the flowers before taking his hands and entering the theatre. At half-time, you would go in-depth about the meaning behind the play. Before, at the end of the night, as he dropped you off on your front steps, he would finish the night with a kiss.

Everything would go to plan - so Fred hoped anyway.

What happened instead, ruined everything. Fred was waiting outside the venue, doing his once-over for everything. He made sure his shirt was perfectly ironed and that the flowers were-

He suddenly looked down at his palms and realised they were empty. He had left them on the back seat of his car. He almost swore aloud before his wizard instinct stepped in. He retrieved his wand from his blazer pocket, shuffling into the shadows. He picked up some small daisies from the ground that lined the building. From there, he mumbled the words of, "Engorgio" and the small petals tripled in their size until they resembled some proper, store-bought flowers.

It was bad timing. When Fred gazed back up, he wasn't met with shadow, he was met with you, staring at him and the flowers that had just magically grown at his will. How could he explain this? "Y/n," He spoke your name in a breath that he had been holding. "I can explain." No, he couldn't.

You shook your head, already taking some steps back. "I- I can't-" You couldn't get the words out; your mind was too focused on trying to figure out what you had just witnessed.

Before Fred could say much more, you turned your back to him and slipped away. He should have been more worried about the fact a muggle had witnessed magic, that the very being of all witches and wizards had suddenly become endangered. He should have been worried about how much this mistake was going to cost him - if the Mystery of Magic would send him to Azkaban for this? But all that swirled around in the boy's head was whether he could fix the sudden wedge he had put between himself and you.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley fanfic #Harry Potter universe #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts imagines #hogwarts fanfiction #george weasley #ron weasley #imagine #x reader #fanfic

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nykloss · 1 year ago

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I'm seeing so much actively harmful misinfo regarding boycotts.

If you are spreading information on a boycott PLEASE focus on just what the BDS is asking you to boycott. In my honest opinion even THAT is a lot to keep track of, but boycotts work better the more laser-focused they are.

This is the closest thing to an official boycott being asked:

I've seen a lot of posts both here and elsewhere asking people to boycott not just everything on that list, but also Walmart, Amazon, Google, PespsiCo, Coke, Nestle, 4 dozen other big name conglomerates, and a big list of at least 50+ individual celebrities/CEOs/actors. That is not boycotting.

If YOU want to personally abstain from every Israeli-supporting-prduct/service you can, please do it!!!! Even before now, I've personally always abstain from chick-fil-a and 🏴‍☠️ most of my media–but that isn't an organized boycott. In fact, spreading info that every single one of those companies/individuals are "part of the boycott" is blatant misinformation and actually harms the boycott.

Giant lists that include dozens to hundreds of giant conglomerates and individuals that are hard to keep track of are meant to overwhelm individuals and dissuade them from boycotting at best, and are actively impossible to personally enforce at worst. If you are reading this post, chances are you are breaking one of the many unofficial "boycotts" being asked of you.

For example, following every ""boycott"" being asked of you 100% means: stopping use of any Google products (quitting a job that uses Google workspace, abandoning your Android phone, switching to Firefox or Safari web browser, not using Gmail, not using YouTube), stop using most/all social media, making entirely home cooked meals (every restaurant, even small ones, support Pepsi/coke), only being allowed to buy ingredients for those home cooked meals from physical, local small businesses (which may be wiped out in your area/take more gas to drive to/cost more money to buy from), and cross-checking every single item you buy with a giant list (that I hope you printed out, because chances are you can't use your phone/the internet without sending precious ad profit to Google!).

Telling someone to "do that much or do nothing" is going to result in the vast, vast majority of people doing nothing. Think about the every day people in your life–parents, coworkers, community members. Are they going to do that much? If the answer is no, then a boycott is ineffective. (Plus, doing a lot of that stops you from staying informed on the situation, which is top priority right now!)

Stick to spreading the image at the top of this post. The more people boycotting a small handful easy-to-remember companies, the more effective a boycott will be. A small amount of companies will lose a lot of money, and will have to re-evaluate their stance to give money to Israel–the point of a boycott. But, if everyone only ends up boycotting a handful of completely different companies depending on what list they were given online, all of those companies only lose a little money and no impact is made at all.

TLDR: Feel free to personally abstain from whatever products/services you want, but spreading that they are part of the boycott if they AREN'T is harmful!

#palestine #gaza #free palestine #boycott israel #boycott disney #boycott starbucks #israel #nyklos is typing

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fandom-go-round · 2 years ago

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Hehehehehe Yandere and Soulmate AU Soundwave Tfp?

Warnings: Yandere, Dark, Stalking, Unhealthy Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Property Manipulation

You don’t understand it. There isn’t a rhyme or reason and the more you think about it, the more your head hurts. You have no idea who this person is. Or what. You ignore the little voice in your head, looking over the string of code one more time.

It started innocently enough. A website would take a second to load or your saved passwords would have to be reentered. Nothing crazy and with the amount you used your computer, not a surprise. Your laptop is old, a little lag here and there isn’t crazy.

Then the ads started. Ads to things that you wanted or may have mentioned to friends. More aggressive than targeted advertising, they would load before you had even really connected to the internet. You downloaded every ad blocker you could find (even some questionable ones) and it seemed to work in the short term.

After that the messages began to pop up. Some sort of instant messaging service had gotten its way onto your computer, probably a virus. Some person would reach out, asking about your day and your hobbies. The questions, even if you never answered, got more specific, asking for personal information. You brought it to the local computer store to be scrubbed right after that; no way some stranger was going to be asking about your sex preferences.

Unfortunately, the store was just as stumped as you were. It didn’t have a virus, they said, and they couldn’t find any traces of the chat application you were talking about. You showed them the screenshots and partly due to your panic they took you seriously. They assured you it had been thoroughly cleaned but that night you logged on for the first time in a week and the messages began to pour in, asking why you left and where did you go. How rude it was to leave them like this.

You hate this; every time your computer boots up you get sick. You don’t have the money to get a new laptop and part of you in convinced that it wouldn’t solve the issue. You want to joke about the hardware being possessed but you ignore it; it feels more tangible than that. You stop using the computer as much, switching to your phone but that made it even easier for this person to talk and track you.

This is your last hope. You went onto an internet forum (not on your computer of course) to talk about how to wipe everything. A few people offered some suggestions and one even offered a bit of code to help. The factory reset hadn’t worked and now it was time to bring out the big guns.

You take one last look at the code before running it. Your computer fans kick into high gear, the screen going white, blue and then black. The next step will be to get a used computer, maybe go to the library more; you can’t live like this.

You head to bed, leaving your laptop in the living room. The screen flickers to a bright purple, shining everything in an ominous glow. Not that you see. You’re tucked away in bed, trying to get some sleep. You shake your head, turning over and determined to get some sleep. The hardest part is the person talking to you. They keep insisting that you’re meant to be together. That they’re coming for you. It’s just ridiculous.

Humans don’t have soulmates after all.

#transformers #transformers imagine #maccadam #maccadams #soundwave x reader #tfp soundwave #soundwave imagine #tf soundwave #soundwave #transformers prime #soulmate au

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whoslaurapalmer · 15 days ago

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it's not even like I'm living extravagantly or luxuriously or anything but it's like. well now I have to stare at the ceiling and wonder, can I keep cable television. should I bundle the internet with my phone. should I stop this service. would I save money going forward if I paid for this instead. phone calls I have to make about if I have to open my own accounts. if I rent what are my options? what can I take? I can take This but I can't take That. can I poke holes in the wall and hang clocks and posters and pictures. can I paint. what's available to me. I might be able to keep the house. I might be able to buy. I might have to rent. so little is available on my income. but that's what programs are for and my cousin's wife knows a lot about what my options are and where to start because I don't know where to start!! and she knows what I'd like so she's coming over on Friday to talk about everything

calling people to cancel my mom's upcoming appointments. wondering what I should try and sell or keep. should I return this. can I take that with me. is taking a couple puzzles considered an extravagance. it shouldn't be, BUT. where would I put This. can i take the pile of notebooks where my mom and dad wrote notes for each other to update each other about their day and family stuff because some days they didnt see each other when my dad worked weird hours. i want it because thats a piece of my life and it's them but where do i put it if i move. it's not stuff that has to be decided TODAY it's literally been just two whole entire days. but it's stuff that has to be decided soon. by the end of this month. so basically. now. I should measure things tomorrow. I should think about donating and selling and. everything.

my aunt: okay this is just my opinion but I think the house is too big for you and you'd be living alone

me: ....................I'd be living alone regardless??????

and it really isn't a lot of house. like. I'd rearrange things, I'd paint, I could, make my mom's room into a craft room, she always wanted me to have a craft room!!!!! but do I need a dining room!! and!!!!! I don't know. if I had a smaller space I could maybe have a craft section in a dining room. would I even be able to get something with a dining room. I just want something comfortable with room thats mine where i can sing and my brother can come over and do his laundry and i have space for all my things and i feel okay. but there are certain debts to be paid with the house, if i stayed and if i didnt stay. we have to handle the car too. my cousin's wife said don't rule out any options!! we'll look into it and talk about it!! and I'm glad she's being so helpful and optimistic. and I shouldn't worry about housing in particular until we really talk on Friday. but it's in my mind. of course.

I! am still holding it together okay!! There's a lot to get in order and think about and at least I know where everything is and it's, occupying. but it's also like. yes I'm doing such a good job and I'm proud of me but I'm only doing all this because my mom isn't here. my brother says something funny and I want to tell her. the guy on wheel of fortune tonight solved puzzles so wrong and I wanted to see her face when he solved wrong and hear her laugh. I want to watch dancing with the stars with her tomorrow. we didn't get to finish watching halloween wars and now all the holiday baking has started. she's not gonna find out who killed lester on only murders. I still have to go to the endocrinologist on Thursday, because it's too close to try and reschedule. I have to go to our cardiologist for my annual at the beginning of December and i have to tell him that my mom that he saw for over 30 years and was supposed to have a double appointment with me isn't here anymore. I have to see my eye doctor in January and tell her and I know she's gonna cry. i have to switch my insurance but that's also because my plan's not being offered next year so unrelated but it's another phone call. it's a payment I have to make now. it's a phone call I wanted to make with my mom so she could tell me I was doing it right. I know what questions to ask and everything but. I wanted her there. I still haven't told my sister. my mom didn't want me to say anything to her. and I respect that and I'd never talk to her again, for my own reasons, but I should tell her anyway. but now I'm the one that has the copy of her birth certificate because the little safe of all our important papers is mine now. and I'm only 80% sure she has one, so first i have to ask her boyfriend if she has one for sure. which is like. man what a pain.

but my brother and I watched some episodes of crime scene kitchen together and he really enjoyed it and that made me happy. the christmas episode of andy griffith was on tonight and it made us laugh. I put my mom and dad's wedding photo in my room and it makes me feel safe to look at it. and right now I just have to go to bed. and see what tomorrow looks like. Tuesday when my alarm goes off, the radio station I have it tuned to does one of my favorite segments. my best friend made me the BEST chocolate chip cookies in the whole world and there's still three left for dessert tomorrow. my second cousin posted a picture of like six years ago when her daughter was born and my mom held her and it made me feel all warm inside because I wasn't expecting to see a picture of my mom and she loved holding babies. my brother is still drawing the comic he's been working on. we played super mario wonder today. we really like being able to play a mario game where we're both playing at the same time and my mom was really excited when I told her that the other day. pusheen still exists. I'm here.

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panie-wanie-dean-bean · 4 months ago

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Content: Talk of dead parents, feelings of emptiness, fucked up hybrid society, and Jean being flirty

It’s quiet

It’s just so fucking quiet now

Your house is just too big without them. You and your parents used to live here together before the crash. How does an entire commercial airliner crash on a clear sunny day? You don’t know, the company told all when you dragged their asses into court, but you can’t even remember what they said. It was never about getting answers, you were just so angry. You couldn’t kill anyone over it, you have a reputation to uphold, but you could sue them for everything they were worth

But it didn’t make you feel better. Hell, if anything it just made things worse once the dust settled. You used all your fire in that case, you poured your entire soul into it, and now it’s over. It’s over, and your parents are still dead, and you’re still in this fucking house. You can’t sell it, you’ve lived here almost your entire life, all of those happy memories are tied to this place. Their bedroom is in this house. Untouched since you dropped them off at the airport

You’re not sure what you need to do, but you can’t keep going like this. You need to think of something before you start turning to more drastic measures. What do people do when they don’t feel like people? You’ve already tried touching the grass on your lawn, you’re not sure why anyone thinks that would help. Maybe the internet could tell you? You’re sure most of the advice you’ll find will be nonsense but a stopped clock is right twice a day right? What else do you have to lose

You unlock your phone and try a few searches, “how to stop feeling bad” “how to get over death” “how to feel again” wow. Ok, you expected some shit but “Just smile more!” is frankly insulting to anyone, let alone people who are going through shit. You’re about to give up and switch over to youtube when a sidebar ad pops up, it’s advertising Hybrids near you! The ad itself is obviously a link to some virus but the idea isn’t half bad actually

You’ve heard a lot of good things about hybrids, you don’t think you’re cut out to own an actual pet but hybrids can talk. If they need something they can just tell you, and you do have quite a few guest rooms. You back out of that tab and input a new search

“Hybrid stores near me”

The closest hybrid shop wasn’t too far from your house actually. Well, some would consider thirty minutes far, but considering how remote your house is you’re used to having to drive out a bit just to get groceries. That’s probably a part of why it was so damn quiet there, any neighbors you did have were a five minute drive at closest. Your dad was probably to blame for that, he always wanted a lot of land for some reason. He was silly like that…

Oh you’re here. You take a deep breath in…and out before getting out of your car and walking into the shop. As you enter you notice a few things off the bat. One, the seemingly only employee was sitting behind the counter on their phone, their feet propped up on the counter itself. Two, it was surprisingly tidy, you expected a bit more chaos from a shop like this. And three, there were no hybrids to be seen

You excuse yourself and ask the employee if they have any stock right now “Huh? Oh, yeah we got 'em. They’re in the back” You’re about to ask if they could ask them to come out when they place two fingers in their mouth, producing possibly the loudest whistle known to man. You hear shuffling and at least one small crash before a few hybrids emerge from a door at the back of the store “There you go, mingle or whatever and tell me who you want when you’re done”

A part of you wants to ring them out for their poor customer service but you think better of it, the world doesn’t need more Karens. Now that all of the hybrids are out in the store they’ve all settled into a few seating areas around the room, you guess that you should just join one of them? Fuck, in your haste to stop feeling like shit you forgot you suck at talking to people. Well, you can talk to people just fine in a business setting, but you’d hesitate to call the masks people put on for those “people”

You shake your head and just pick a direction to start walking in, you wind up at a little booth with three hybrids. A dog hybrid sits in the far corner of one side, seemingly making room for you, while a fox and rabbit hybrid sit across from him. You ask if you can sit with them, the fox hybrid lets out a small laugh before standing to greet you “Of course you may, it’s an honor to have you here” they reach for your hand and give the back of it a small kiss “Jean Laurent, and you?”

Oh…oh dear. It feels like pure warmth is radiating from where he kissed your hand, that same warmth spreading down into your fingertips before racing up your arm, your neck, and finally settling on your cheeks. When you thought about getting a hybrid to “feel something” this was not what you had in mind…though, you couldn’t truthfully say you didn’t like it

You give him your name in response, thankful at how steady your voice sounds despite how your heart is racing. You settle into the booth seat and strike up a conversation with all of them, learning that the dog hybrid’s name is Bo and the rabbit is called Ian. They’re all pretty cute, Ian’s lop ears being of particular note. Talking to all of them felt…nice. Talking to them felt. They were all a little awkward save for Jean, who seemed to just ooze charisma. You could tell he was putting up a front, but in your line of work that’s hardly new

All of them seemed to have a wall up honestly, not like you could blame them. When you’re in a place like this your best bet is to try and literally “sell yourself” as well as possible. As you talk to them you turn your attention to Bo and notice something. His eyes. On top of being an adorable shade of blue, they’re glazed over. You know that look, you’ve seen it in the mirror too many times to count after the crash. What has this poor pup been through?

When you check your phone you’re genuinely shocked at how much time has passed, talking to the three of them felt so natural to you. It hurt to excuse yourself from their table, you didn’t want to, you never wanted to leave them. But you have to, you have to say goodbye so you can have some time to yourself. How you’re ever going to pick just one of them is a fucking mystery to you, they’re all so cute, and they all need a home eventually. Why couldn’t you just keep all of them?

…Why, couldn’t you keep all of them? You’re rich, you have a big ass house, and you’re lonely as shit. Why the fuck couldn’t you get all three of them? You don’t think there’s any law against it. You walk over to the register and ask the employee if there are any rules about getting more than one hybrid, they laugh “No rules against it, but are you sure you’re up for it? Just one’s a pretty big handful, especially that mutt” They point towards Bo before continuing “He’s been returned five times this year alone, all of em say he starts off great but gets annoying quick” Returned him? Returned him? You take a deep breath, getting angry over that won’t do anyone any good. Not before you get their addresses from Bo anyway. You tell them you’re more than up for the challenge, they roll their eyes “Fine, but it won’t be cheap” You take a few hundreds out of your wallet and ask if it will do. They take the money and hold it under the light, letting out a small “holy shit” when they find that they’re real “Uh…yeah, yep! I’ll uh…I’ll get your change”

#hybrid au #sdj Jean #sdj Bo #sdj Ian #this is less of a chapter one and more of a prologue #Excited to let myself get back into this fandom after forcing myself to leave for a bit #Nothing bad happened! I just lost my spark for it and knew I'd get burn out if I didn't leave it alone for a bit lol

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darklydeliciousdesires · 1 month ago

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Sanguine Storm - A Vampire!Niklas Kvarforth/Reader One Shot Story.

I wrote a follow up to Interview with the Vampire (which you can find here) Enjoy!

Words - 6,654

Warnings - Adult content and smut below the cut, minors DNI!

You’re used to travelling with your job, flying all over the world to interview musicians. The journey you have taken on this trip though is to conduct a meeting with somebody entirely different; the world authority, she coins herself. On all things vampire.

It took time and many deep dive searches through the dark web, a place you were not altogether comfortable with visiting, before you found her. God, the sights you saw prior to finding Erzsébet Zrinski. Vampire’s might not be public knowledge, but they thrive openly within the darkest corner of the internet. Vampire porn? You got it, although it costs a fortune. Vampire sex worker services? Yep, you can find those, too, again the price steep.

By comparison, Erzsébet’s knowledge comes at a very pocket-friendly sum. You just wish she accepted meetings via Zoom, but alas she will only impart her knowledge on a face-to-face basis, to protect herself in case she is ever secretly recorded. “The vampires, they would come for me, should they definitely know what I reveal about them.”

Testament to this is the steep security she surrounds her modest home with, one located at the very end of a main drag of housing in the city of Szeged. Well, it’s steep if you’re a vampire, with the garlic plants growing all around in window boxes, and the window frames themselves fashioned from silver.

“Ahh, (Y/N),” she speaks friendlily upon opening her door, eyes scanning the street with caution, pulling a silver coin from her pocket. “Your hand, before I welcome you into my home.”

Holding it out, she presses it into your skin, waiting. Of course, if you were a vampire, your flesh would smoulder instantly. “You pass the test, but I must pat you down and check your bag for recording equipment before we proceed.” One quick pat down and bag check satisfy her, the elder middle-aged woman reassured even further when she sees you switch your phone off completely, thus earning her trust.

Following her in, she steers you toward the table within her kitchen, the hearth crackling, a couple of cats and a long-haired terrier dog warming themselves in front of it. They appreciate the little scratches you offer to their heads before you sit down. Once furnished with tea, she joins you.

“Now, dear. You are having difficulties with a vampire?”

That’s putting it mildly. “I am, yes. Well, I think I am, but I’m not so sure.” Taking a breath, you begin your tale. “I met him a few months ago, and ever since then I keep thinking I see him. I’ll be walking along and suddenly be able to pick his face out amongst a group of people, but in the next second, he vanishes.”

“They do indeed move quickly, dear,” she speaks. “Surely, you already knew that?”

“Of course, but we live in different countries. Over a few thousand miles apart.”

She sips her tea with a little wink. “A vampire can move a thousand miles in mere minutes. The older they are, the quicker they move and the stronger they are, too. Do you know his age?”

“Five, in vampire years.” That’s about when you can pin him down to being turned, somewhere around the 2019 time, when Shining ceased playing festivals in the daytime and Niklas’s presence became a lot more reclusive, too. “It isn’t just that, though,” you continue, wringing your hands a few times. “He’s in my head. I hear his voice, I dream about him and it’s like he’s really there with me. He’s taunting me and I don’t know how to make him stop!”

At seeing your anguish, Erzsébet reaches to pat your hand. “You drank some of his blood when you were with him, didn’t you?”

A strange question to pose, you think. “I erm, I did, yes.”

She hisses a wince, shaking her head as she closes her eyes. “Oh, darling girl. You shouldn’t have done that.”

In truth, you needed to in order to keep up with him. Human flesh is much weaker than immortal, and being flung around a bedroom by a big, horny vampire? It takes its toll on the body, and their blood is healing when imbibed by a human. After the first two hours, you felt like you’d been sandblasted between your legs. “I erm, I needed to, because of what we were doing at the time and ..."

Her nod is deep, humming knowingly. “I know all about that, dear.” She then whistles, low and lewd, her eyes narrowing a little. “Vigorous isn’t quite enough to describe, is it?”

No. It would be fair to say that it isn’t. A hail of goose pimples pepper your skin at remembering it, being with him. It was like a thousand tiny lights shone to brilliance all over your body, heart thundering like a war drum, bitten, spanked, mauled, fucked in every position you could ever imagine – and some you never had before – his growls of desire in your ears, the feel of fangs grazing your skin, the taste of your own blood on his mouth. Him. He might have been dead, but while you were with him, you’d never felt more alive.

While it was your body that called out to him, he now does the same to you, infiltrating your thoughts, haunting your dreams. Calling. Calling you endlessly.

“Dear, you have a link with him now. His showing up like that? It's truly him, you are not losing your mind. He drank your blood, didn’t he?" Your nod confirms. The woman feels for you, she truly does. Because they’re so largely unbelieved and unknown to society, she doesn’t blame you an ounce for having no clue over how to deal with them. Especially when they become bothersome. “He’ll be able to find his way to you because of that, a bond that is fortified even deeper by his blood also being within you.”

“For how long?” you sigh, hearing the desperation in your voice fully for the first time.

“Six months, give or take.” Her mouth thins at your eye roll. “Expect this to last until then, when it’ll begin to weaken and he won’t be able to get inside your mind any longer, or know exactly where you are.”

Shaking your head, you bite your lip, your insides sagging hard with dejection. “How does he even do it, though? How does it work?”

“It’s the magic in them. Nobody is quite sure how, but it’s that little bit of magic there that makes them what they are. His blood being within your veins gives him a very direct link to you, meaning he can transmit thoughts and visions. They use it to manipulate people primarily, play with them on an emotional level.

“If he’s proficient enough to do this as you sleep, then I draw the natural conclusion he was created by an ancient. Young vampires, they don’t have the skill, but if the one who made them is much older in years, then it is possible. That old blood makes them unbelievably powerful, even though in the grand scheme of things, he’s still just a baby at five.”

Manipulation and emotional mind games. How very on brand for Niklas.

Taking a sip of your tea, the warm liquid does little to comfort. “I can’t fucking stop thinking about him, Erzsébet. Which is exactly what he wants.” Closing your eyes, you see yourself there atop him, his fangs sunk deep into your neck, his arms clasping you to him as you howl in absolute ecstasy. “I try, but he’s too strong. Too alluring. Too damned charming and handsome for his own good.”

“I don’t blame you, sweet girl,” she smiles, patting your hand again. “Deadly they may be, but god above, they are beautiful creatures. That allure, it’s near impossible to fight. Especially if he doesn’t want you to. Especially if you know what it is to lie with a vampire, and of course, you do. No mortal can compare to them.”

Indeed not. The way he touched you, fucked you, it’s forever etched into your memory. No human man can ever hope to compare to Niklas. And yes, you do hate him a little for it, too. In fact, not even a little. A lot. You hate him because you still want him, because he’s worming his way in, for no other reason than the simple fact that he can.

You remain there in the warmth of Erzsébet’s charming little house for a few more hours, leaning from her expertise, her wealth of knowledge. She feeds you a warming bowl of paprikash and gives you a little wine too, of which you are grateful, paying her for her time and leaving. You depart feeling more knowledgeable, but certainly no better about your predicament.

The walk back to your hotel isn’t too long, the night warm enough still to enjoy the slow stroll, gazing upon the beauty that are the old buildings of the city. Stunning and looming, they offer a beautiful contrast to the newer, your eyes picking out the details of an architectural artform long abandoned for polished and shiny. Viewing one old building, you pause for a second, marvelling at the detail in each of the gargoyles. A wolf head, a man with his mouth open, the guttering overflow water leaking from it, a horse, Niklas, a dragon...

Your head snaps back, blinking, seeing the spot he was sitting upon now empty, your hand delving into your pocket to clench tightly around the thick, silver chain you’ve taken to carrying with you everywhere. With your heart racing, you hurry through the streets, feeling a little safer when you pass a long row of bars and restaurants that lead down to the corner your hotel is located upon.

There he is again in the crowd of people outside. In a blink, he disappears.

Racing down to the hotel, you can feel him at your back, your shoulders tingling unpleasantly, the weight of his stare making you feel like your body is sinking beneath it, rushing for the door and heading inside. Truly, you’re no safer there really, with it being a public dwelling, meaning he can simply walk in after you. If it was your own home, he would need your permission before he could cross the threshold, so Erzsébet revealed.

Why the fascination with you, you wonder? Surely, he must have a whole host of people he can do this to, ones located much nearer to home for him. Then again, travelling a few thousand miles, just like Erzsébet said, is truly not tasking for him at all. Still, though. Why you? Why not any of the regulars he likely feeds upon? According to her, vampires do develop a preferred blood source and become quite choosy thereafter.

It’s all very secret society-esque, how they attain their life source. In every city and town across the world, there are select groups of people who know of their existence, and will allow the undead to feed on them. To know them, you have to look for the mark, a symbol of a small, two-headed bat. Some wear it upon jewellery, others have it tattooed, but willing donors always bear the slightly altered sigil synonymous with vampires somewhere upon their person.

It still puzzles you, that you are not one of these people, and yet he revealed what he was to you.

That reason, he keeps to himself, standing atop a tall building as he watches you walk through the foyer of the hotel. He knew it would begin to eat you alive, knowing what he is and not being able to broadcast it, to attain the kind of interview you’d truly like to, reveal what he is to the world with his permission to do so. Of which, he’d obviously never grant. Nothing irritates a journalist more than knowing they have to keep a secret, and that is precisely why he told you.

Sitting down on the ledge, he closes his eyes, the dark void within him calling out to the blood that pumps through your heart, the body it came from causing it to flare as he smiles, imagining himself with you. He feels your heartbeat escalating as he beams that image into your head, his smirk growing. Meanwhile, you’re gripping onto the elevator rail, your breathing ragged, trying to block him out, his haunting, rumbling laughter filling your ears.

Opening his eyes again, he looks at the hotel one last time before standing, stepping clean off the eighty foot building and landing neatly upon the ground below, vanishing once more into the night.

You arrive home two days later, your flight landing at 11pm, an expensive Uber ride ferrying you across the city to your home. Once there, the need to simply fall into bed is overridden by your desire for a little organisation, to settle comfortably after pulling out your clothes and throwing them into the washing machine. Besides, you actually slept for a couple of hours during your flight.

Once showered and comfortable in an oversized sweatshirt and comfy little shorts, you make yourself a sandwich, not overly hungry, cutting it up into smaller triangles and pouring yourself a glass of wine. It’s a 2018 Tefethen Family Vineyards Merlot; the very same one he bought for you, the one you’ve developed quite the taste for. You suppose too, it serves as a reminder of the night. Although admitting that doesn’t come easily.

With every sip, you’re transported back to that private room within the bar, remembering the charm and wit of the man, the hilarity of his stories, how immovable his ‘couldn’t give a single fuck’ nature was. That and his intelligence, the breadth of his interests and knowledge, all of it wrapped up in something sinister and unnerving that you couldn’t quite place your finger on.

If only you’d known then what you do now, that you were interviewing a vampire.

“You know, you might succeed in getting him out of your head if you stopped fucking thinking about him,” you mutter, taking another bite of your food. “You’re only making it worse.”

Not even pure loathing of him can truly besmirch the memory. There is something so deeply arousing about fucking living death and surviving it. He could have killed you in a heartbeat, but he didn’t.

It isn’t like you’ve become lovestruck by him, absolutely not. Meeting an intelligent and fascinating musician isn’t uncommon for you, with the regularity it happens. Meeting a vampire, though, who soon afterwards took you to bed and gave you the best sex of your life? Entirely different. You still crave him beyond measure, and all the hate in the world will never dilute that longing.

You are, however, incensed that he probably knows that only too well.

Yes, the knowledge that you still desire him is likely what fuels his mind games. He has to have something to do for fun, you suppose, now that drugs are well and truly out of the equation for him. He could snort every single last gram of cocaine within Bolivia and not feel the effect, being that of course, he’s dead. You can’t help but smirk at that. Schadenfreude feels good when the subject is deserving.

He certainly revels in the very same, after all.

Once your sandwich is finished, you listlessly move to the sofa, switching on the TV and seeing there’s a new documentary on Netflix that takes your interest, pouring another glass of wine and settling in to watch. Tiredness has other plans, though.

It must do, for you have to be asleep when you experience your top being lifted and a cold set of lips pressing a kiss to your navel. After all, Niklas cannot enter your home unless you invite him.

Not again. For fuck’s sake, he’s relentless!

“Get off.” Opening your eyes, you see him smirking up at you. God, he’s so smug!

He places another kiss upon your abdomen, fingers clutching at your shorts. “We both know you don’t mean that, darling.”

“I’m not your darling,” you mutter, pushing at him with your feet.

He merely takes one, tickling your toes with his tongue. “You are when I’m balls deep in your pussy.”

Sighing, you sit up, pushing him away with your hands, his long form settling to the couch as he shakes his head. “Niklas, get out of my head. I know this isn’t real. Fuck off.”

“No, but it could be,” he speaks, kissing you slowly from your wrist down to your inner elbow, the seductive press of lips making your blood spark. “I’m outside of your home right now. Invite me in, and this becomes very real.”

Your reply is immediate, resolute. “I don’t want it to be, though.”

“Remember when I told you do not lie to me, because I will know?” Indeed, you do, becoming rapidly lost in the icy blue stare as he leans to you, nose touching yours. “I know that you lie. I feel that you lie. Blood never tells an untruth.”

He’s right, and you hate that he is, has this power over you, understands how to play you perfectly, your body the instrument he knows exactly how to handle in order to elicit the desired musicality. Tipping your head back, his lips ghost the column of your throat, just enough to feel you yearn for it, chuckling with a deep rasp. “Wake up, and give in.”

The press of his mouth evokes such a visceral jolt, you sit up on the sofa with a start, breathless, heart hammering, the tight pinch of arousal throbbing deep within. Flinging yourself to your feet, you still don’t know whether you’re going to invite him in and drag him to your bed by his neck, or scream at him for being so fucking insufferable when you get there. Suffice to say you’re stirred heavily in both directions as you yank the front door open, your eyes widening in surprise to be met by nothing.

Nothing other than the sound of haunting laughter coming from behind you.

Spinning around, you see him over on the small balcony that your lounge opens onto, waving with a sinisterly amused grin before his head tips back and he laughs more, riddled with mirth. The fucking bastard.

“Oh, so after all your protests, you do want me?”

The absolute nerve of him!

Silver. You need silver, because oh good lord, big, scary vampire or not, you shan’t take this lying down a moment longer. Storming through your apartment, you rip the drawer of the hallway cabinet open, your hands scattering papers, old postcards and other assorted junk out of the way, your fingers grasping exactly what you require before marching to the sliding door and hurling it open.

“Ooooh, she’s gonna get me!” he states mockingly, holding up his hands, eyes wide.

Raising the sharp letter opener, you hold it beneath his chin, his flesh beginning to sizzle as he stiffens momentarily. “Leave me alone and I won’t take great pleasure in ramming this upwards, before I tear it down and slice your throat open, you vile sack of dead flesh!”

He looks puzzled, cocking his head a little. “That’s a little rude, to say such things to the vampire who made you come, what was it, twenty times in three hours?”

“I mean it!” you snarl, pushing the point harder, watching his smile grow.

“Do it,” he encourages, leaning closer, his eyes flashing bright, revelling in it.

“I will! I’ll fucking end you out here!”

He curls his hands around your wrists, beginning to assist in that pushing. “Darling, did your little Hungarian friend not tell you? For silver to work effectively, it has to be solid, not plated. So no, you won’t end me.” Steering your hand upwards, the letter opener pierces him, Niklas laughing maniacally the further it tears through his flesh, his mouth filling with blood as the point of it exits to the side of his tongue.

You can only stare on in horror as his cold blood trickles over your fingers, his laughter growing, booming, your nerves setting your body to quiver as he sticks his tongue out and lets the blood flow onto the floor.

“Fuck, that got me hard,” he laughs, taking the letter opener and ripping from his jaw, dropping it onto the floor with a clatter as his wounds swiftly begin to heal. “And now here you are, with no weapon, and no safety of being inside your home. Just you and me.” He leans close, tongue tickling your earlobe with a faint groan. “So, now what are you going to do?”

In truth, as your heart thunders so rapidly that you feel nauseous, you have no idea. He’s got you. You cannot return inside, because he’ll simply move rapidly enough to block your path, you can’t call out for help, because there’s nobody coming to save you here. You’re stuck, and the delight he experiences in knowing this plays all over his face.

“I... I... I...” Floundering is all you have, the shame of it pinking your cheeks, fear cording every muscle tightly.

“You... you... you...” he mocks, stroking a bloodied finger down your cheek. “This is too much fun! Aren’t you having fun?” Looming over you, he begins to walk, penning you against the wall bordering your balcony and the next, his finger sliding tantalisingly down to your neck. “I must be just as crazy as they say I am, because I’d still take you to bed and fuck you in a heartbeat, (Y/N). Even though you came out here to attack me, I would still show you a very, very good time.”

You gulp, transfixed by the intensity of his eyes, your bottom lip beginning to quiver as he leans even nearer to you, lips ghosting your neck before his tongue flickers against your pulse point.

“Give up and invite me in.”

“No.”

“Oh, she found her voice,” he whispers, beginning to scatter kisses, his hands clutching your hips gently. “Tell me you want me.��

“I don’t!”

“You still lie to me, little human.” More kisses, his thumbs stroking, skimming the top of your shorts, heat beginning to crackle beneath your skin. “Tell me you want me.”

And god, how you do. How you hate him for it, the juxtapose clashing angrily within you, his arms slipping around your waist as he presses his body into yours, melding himself with you, those kisses against your neck gaining in intensity. He wasn’t lying either, when he said he’d gotten hard.

“Tell me you want me.”

Again, that demand is spoken, followed by a faint, aroused groan, knowing he’s eroding away at your resolve. You can feel it happening, brick by brick, your will not to succumb to him crumbling like an ancient tower, your hands moving to smooth down his wide chest. Fuck, he feels good beneath your touch.

You know you’re the instigator of your own downfall, but you can’t help it. “I want you.”

His mouth lands upon yours, kissing you, a torrid blaze burning everything in its wake, knocked sideways by the force of him, the blinding allure. There it is, that feeling of a thousand tiny lights blinking into brilliance inside of you, your hands moving to his face, clutching, nails grazing his beard as your tongue rolls sensually with his.

Pulling away from the kiss, he looks down at you, a grin widening his mouth. “Maybe next time.”

He vanishes in a flash, leaving you there with your mouth agape, still trying to catch your breath as the fear and desire of it now mixes with sheer furious anger. It is not a particularly fitting alchemy.

“I fucking hate that vampire!”

Picking up the bloodied letter opener, you enter your apartment again, locking the door behind you and drawing he curtains, stirred by him so heavily you end up finishing that bottle of wine before you fall asleep, frowning into the darkness. Of course, he can feel your agitation, and it pleases him, which only means you fall asleep even angrier that night.

In the days that follow, you don’t experience too much disturbance from him, only what your own mind conjures, rapidly shaking your head as if to physically throw the memory of him from your mind whenever it enters your head. Life continues as normal, work keeping you busy, a few visits to the office breaking the monotony of the fact that since lockdown, most of the editorial staff for the magazine now work remotely.

You also have dinner plans with friends, very much looking forward to catching up with these loved ones, spending your Friday night enjoying their company over good wine and even better food, moving onto a bar afterwards. It’s late by the time you call it a night, trying to find an Uber but quickly realising you’d probably arrive home much sooner if you walked. It’s only thirty-five minutes on foot, give or take.

The built-up area of the city breaks free from the jungle of concrete, heading through the lesser dense areas but for safety’s sake, keeping to as much of the main roads as you can. There is, however, a route you must take beneath a large bridge, an elevated section of road where it is much safer to pass beneath than upon it, the traffic crazy even at that time of night.

“Hey, ‘scue me, sweetheart. Got any spare change?”

Turning, you see a man approach through the quiet gloom, one who obviously isn’t homeless, merely drunk and probably all spent out. “No, I don’t.”

Continuing to walk, you pick up the pace, knowing the man is staggering along after you.

“Looks like you have, nicely dressed woman like you,” he speaks, advancing on you. “Oi, don’t fucking ignore me! Wait, talk t’me. You’re pretty. Wanna take me home?”

“Fuck off.”

He isn’t fond of hearing that, making a grab for your arm. “Don’t be rude, babe! C’mere!”

“I said fuck off!” you shout, trying to pull yourself from his clutches, until with immediate effect you’re freed. Turning, you see the man pinned by his throat against the heavy bridge supports, Niklas growling low in his throat, that predatory rumble having its usual effect on you.

“Never touch her again.”

The man struggles, but cannot free himself of his grasp. “Who th’fuck are you and where d’ya come from?”

“Neither matter. Apologise to her.”

Again, he struggles, the grip around his neck tightening, Niklas lifting him from the floor one handed with staggering ease, the man’s eyes bulging wide. “Fuck off! Let me go!”

He raises his eyebrows, nodding in your direction. “She told you the same, and yet you didn’t. Why should I, hmm?”

“Because you’re a fucking psycho!”

That rouses a wide grin. “Correct.” He then makes a beckoning motion with his hand in your direction. Walking over, you stop reasonably close to him, Niklas physically turning the man’s head in your direction. “Apologise, and I will let you go.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

Oh, he’s having too much fun, playing with him. At least it isn’t you for a change. “For grabbing you.”

Niklas turns to you, raising his eyebrows. “Happy?”

“I suppose,” you nod, folding your arms.

“See?” he grins at the man. “That’s all you had to do.” With one swift movement, the man is hurled through the air like a human javelin, coming to a thudded half against one of the other support pillars about ten feet away, grunting when he hits the ground. Niklas then turns to you, extending his hand.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” You look between him and the hand a few times, your hesitation earning an eye roll. “I can be gentlemanly when I want to be, (Y/N). Let me walk you home.”

“Fine,” you pout, “but I’m not holding your hand. I know your reasons for helping me weren’t borne of any benevolence.”

A single eyebrow arches high. “Then tell me, what were they borne of?”

“I desire to get between my legs, changing tactics since you know being a shit about it doesn’t sway me.”

He hums a chuckle as you begin to walk, pressing a hand to your shoulder. “But it does, though. It worked last time, didn’t it?” He’s got you there. Bastard. “I can be quite a decent vampire when I set my mind to it. Women like you shouldn’t have to suffer nuisances like him.”

“No,” you scoff, looking up at your undead companion, “I only have to suffer the nuisance currently at my side.” He laughs, and you walk together silently for a few seconds, before the question you’ve had burning away on the tip of your tongue finally flutters out. “Why me?”

“Why not you?”

Of course, he’s going to be difficult about it. “You must have a slew of other women you can call upon for sex. Why me? Why play the games?”

“Not just women,” he corrects with a wink. No, you wouldn’t put that past him at all; to confirm he’d fuck anything with a pulse. “Because you are interesting. You’re also an amazing fuck, and my fucking dark lord below... that ass. I could chip a fang on that ass.”

“You know, leading with that would have made you way less irritating to me than you have been,” you quip, crossing the road, noting the way he touches a protective hand to your lower back. This Niklas, he’s much more in line with how he was when you interviewed him, and you hate that you like it so much.

“I could have, you’re right,” he begins, smirking. “Where would the fun be in that, though?”

“It isn’t much fun for me.”

“It isn’t supposed to be, but it is for me.”

He’s so fucking insufferable! “Menace.”

“Hmm, I've been called much worse. I’ll take that.” Looking down at you, he witnesses you trying desperately not to find the humour in that, giving you a soft dig with his elbow. “Come on, crack your face. You know you want to. Plus, you have a pretty smile.”

Oh, fuck him. Fucking fuck him all the way to hell, the corners of your mouth turning up.

“That’s a fucking grimace. You look constipated.”

The snort of laughter his words pull from you cannot be contained, and yes, beneath it you’re furious with him for it. Yourself, too, for weakening your resolve. “See? Much better,” he speaks, turning his gaze from you up towards the sky. “There’s a storm on the way. The thunder is rumbling.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” you speak.

“Your ears wouldn’t have picked up on it. It’s a way off. Look at the clouds, it’ll be here soon.” Reaching for you, he lifts you into his arms. “Hold on tightly.”

You do, experiencing the feeling of what it must be like to get shot out of a canon, a total of three seconds passing before he’s placing you back upon your feet at your front door.

“There, your vampire delivery service has successfully deposited the cargo at its correct address,” he begins, reaching to run his fingers in a circle at the side of your neck. “I’ve behaved myself. Do I get to be invited in, so I can change that?”

The wink he accompanies those words with makes your heart skip on a couple of beats, your resolve once again weakening. If only he wasn’t so fucking hot. If only he wasn’t the best sex of your life. If only he wasn’t a temperamental, head-fucking, yet staggeringly charismatic vampire. You might have stood a chance.

When his mouth locks upon yours, that tentative resolve fractures to pieces.

“Come in.” you speak between kisses, wondering if this will be a decision you’ll come to regret once you’re no longer blinded by feral desire. Or rather, once he reverts to the more nefarious side of his nature. You’re half herded, half dragging him along, discarded clothes forming a trail through your apartment, Niklas lifting you, fingers dug hard into your thighs.

Your back hits the wall, his mouth devouring yours, practically eating your face with the hunger coursing through him. It knocks the breath from you, the feel of his icy skin pressed tight against your warmth a sensation you never thought you’d come to crave, yet experiencing it again makes you realise just how much you longed for it.

The route to your bedroom is recommenced, Niklas kicking the door open, the entanglement of you and him hitting the mattress with a thud. It’s wildly carnivorous, kisses virtually ripped from your lips, his mouth descending, pressing against your throat like brandings searing hot, preceding the true burn, his fangs popping out.

You cling tight to him as the bite locks onto you like a wolf devouring its kill, the thrill of it sending goose pimples charging across your skin like a herd of wild horses. The sensation of him feeding upon you feels like a thousand thunderstorms striking beneath your skin, blindingly erotic, more so than anyone could comprehend without experiencing it.

His is a touch that casts silent, wordless spells upon your body, knowing it in a way you’re not even sure you do, mouth descending to settle at your apex, closing over your slit and sucking with a hungry grunt of satisfaction. Cool licks meet the heat of your petals, his fingers digging into the soft of your thighs hard, leaving red crescents upon your skin as your hips shudder against his mouth.

It’s as if smouldering embers replace the vertebrae of your spine, glowing one by one as his tongue circles in slow firmness to begin with, speeding up, faster, faster... oh, fuck. The rapidity has you clutching the sides of his shaven head, his skin temporarily clawed red by the drag of your nails, your muscles tensing from the duality of it being too much, but somehow not enough.

Your first orgasm hits you like the storm that’s beginning to swirl overhead, bolts of light cracking the sky as rain patters against the windowpanes, your body shivering, the mouth between your legs granting no clemency. He continues, devouring you like a man half starved, hands trawling your curves to settle upon your breasts, groaning against your folds as his tongue laves at you firmly.

“Niklas, you need to stop,” you pant, watching him suck on you firmly, shaking his head.

“I’m happy where I am.”

“But you can’t fuck my mouth while you’re down there.”

Oh, that caught his attention. His grin widens, deeply sinister but sexy as hell, a rumbling chuckle filling the room. “Dirty girl. I like it, but later. First, I will ruin you.”

Standard with him, really, his mouth reconnecting once more.

The wet drag of each lick languidly rolls through your slit, up to your clit again, circling, nudging, glimmers skittering through you when he aims his next suck right there. Your little bud is sucked plumper before being bathed in the fast beating of his tongue. Fast… faster… faster… oh… how is he real?

Your body arches off the bed, toes curling, an orb of fire rolling through your groin before boom, it explodes, your legs wrapping around his head, feeling your clit throbbing against his tongue. He truly meant it when he stated that he’d ruin you, because once again, he doesn’t cease. With an aroused moan, he closes his mouth around you, hands continuing to stroke your curves, holding you still when your hips begin to purl against his face.

There’s no other way to explain it, he has you lost in pleasure, unmoored, adrift on the wide, dark sea that is the vampire between your legs, your body quivering as the hum of your energy mingling with his flows unabatingly. He has you cresting a third time before moving to kneel before you, drawing your legs up over his shoulders, sinking every last inch of his thick cock into your heat, transfixing, a shudder of excitement ripping his tattooed form.

The way vampires move, it’s so different to humans, something hypnotic that you truly can’t describe, but will never tire of seeing, experiencing as he roots himself in the plush of your cunt again and again.

Otherworldly is perhaps the best way you could coin it, just like him, coupled with the noises he makes, that guttural growl that’s far from human, a beastly rumble that never fails to set your insides to blaze. You hiss at the ebullience of it, nails raking his chest, his cock snagging against the tight clutch of you.

He’s heavy and wide within you, wracked by muscles cording, jumping under goose pimpled flesh. He speeds up, spearing you deeply, the flex of your heat around him making pleasure tumble through his deadness, sparking light through the dark of him. His body falls to yours, gripping your hips hard, another flash of lightning illuminating the room, his tongue running up your throat as he groans eerily, biting your earlobe.

Grasping your jaw, he turns your head with a swift jerk, something seeming to soften in him for just a fraction of a second when he kisses you.

“You...” he begins, hand moving to clutch your throat, “are perhaps the most beautiful woman I have been with in a long time.”

High praise, coming from a vampire who likely has an entire harem on standby. That little display of tenderness goes just as quickly as it came, though, Niklas pulling you up so you’re sat astride him, one hand remaining in a tight clasp upon your throat, the other beginning to lay rapid, hard spanks to your bum.

He fucks up into you with brutal force, your own hips rutting against his in a roll so deliciously serpentine, you have him feeling mindless at the way you fuck him back. The pleasure is biting and powerful, like a summer tempest winding tight, rolling over you both without pause in a ceaseless continuation, gaining the same heavy momentum as the storm that rages on outside.

Except what you and Niklas share that night far outlasts the thunder storm, your body once again ravaged beyond comprehension, until you’re tired and sore, finally coming to rest at somewhere close to 2am. Unlike last time, though, he doesn’t leave right away. It’s almost alien to you, lying there atop his body, feeling his fingers stroke swirls up and down your spine as you recover.

Turning you onto your side as your eyes grow heavy, he stares at you for a long moment, his fingertip stroking just above your eyebrow. You blink, and it’s in that moment he vanishes, something in you expecting he’d leave wordlessly just like the last time. It’s his nature not to hang around.

In the days that follow, you wait for his mind games to resume, his presence to come crashing into your dreams, but to your surprise, it never happens. Three months pass and the link to him through your blood fades to nothing at all, life continuing like he never came into it.

Exiting your apartment one morning a further month along from then, you almost kick over the bottle that’s been placed outside your door, bending to pick it up. Tefethen Family Vineyards Merlot; 2018, with a note attached.

‘It would be unfair for you to return to the bore of a human lover now you’ve had me. If you want me again, call the number below. If I can, I will be there before you’ve even hung up. If not, then you are plainly stupid and have no idea what is good for you.

You aren’t stupid though, are you?

N.’

No, you’re definitely not. Still, though, you make him wait a further month before calling.

#niklas kvarforth #niklas kvarforth fanfiction #shining #shining band #black metal

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