There is a world, not far from our own, where creatures and monsters are more beloved than feared. Where they’re hunted down not out of defense and security but due to the greed of collectors looking for their next trophy.
You never had any interest or part in it. Always seeing monsters as people trying to make a living just like yourself. But living near the harbor it’s unfortunately not all that uncommon to see poachers selling off kraken tentacles, a siren’s voice, or a mermaids tail. Anything they can get their hands on, really. It pains your heart to see so many hurt and nothing done about it.
But that is all about to change.
At that same moment, deep in the ocean, a poor Siren is ambushed by a bunch of poachers. Overwhelmed by their forces, captured, and attacked, they heave his extraordinarily long body onto their ship. Left unable to move as they viciously take his only means of defense. His voice. And then they toss him back into the ocean without a care for how vulnerable they have now left him.
At first he doesn’t even realize what has happened, his memory of the attack fuzzy and disoriented. But the moment he tries to speak a sharp pain radiates from his throat and has him curling in on himself against the ocean floor. Trembling eyes widen as realization dawns over him.
The waves of his mourning wash over the surrounding marine flora and turn everything around him into ash. The water turns darker with the storm of his emotions as it threatens to destroy everything in his path.
He stumbles onto land with the need for revenge etched onto his very soul, shedding his tail and walking into the unknown without daring to look back. The humans all stare as he passes, his beauty alone enough to enchant and allure them. But it all means nothing without his voice.
There was no doubt in his mind that he would find the poachers who had done this to him. Even if his memory is still as broken as the rest of him. Determination is the only thing left fueling him and he will not give that up.
But as he cuts his way through the village square, the most wondrous sound breaks through the haze of his fury. He searches hopelessly for the noise and when he finally finds it his gaze lands on you, playing an instrument he has never seen on any of the ships he’s wrecked.
The sound is mesmerizing and he finds himself walking closer to you. Though you don’t even notice him, your eyes closed, and a blissful expression painted on your face. But the music you are playing is anything but blissful. No, it speaks to his soul, it voices every word he can no longer say aloud.
He feels his knees give out beneath him and the pain cuts into his skin. He does not care. All he can do is look upon you and watch as you play the most devastating song he has ever heard. One even his previously infamous voice could never replicate.
When you open your eyes you’re surprised to see this man before you. He a vision of otherworldly beauty. Even as endless tears stream down from his bloodshot eyes. You do not know what horrors this man has gone through but something pulls at you to comfort him.
Not a word is spoken, nor is it needed, as you set down your instrument and take him into your arms. He immediately breaks down and sobs silently in your embrace. You don’t know when you begin to cry along with him but you both hold each other till long past the sun goes down.
As time passes, you teach him to speak with his hands, allowing him to finally communicate with you. His heart flutters as something in his soul clicks back into place at the gift you’ve given him. Having a voice once more.
Now that he can finally talk to you, he immediately shares his tale. Explaining he was not a man but a Siren. He fumbles over his fingers as he recounts the poacher attack, the way they stole everything from him. He confides his wishes to you, his need for revenge.
He’s shocked to see the thunderous rage booming throughout your expression. He didn’t know what to expect but a part of him hadn’t expected your support. Not with how kind, gentle, and loving you are. At least to him you are.
But you do support him and there’s no second guessing that as the two of you immediately begin to make a plan. Leading you to teach him how to speak through his hands in more ways than one.
Not only through his fingers but through the vessel of an instrument. Allowing his hypnotic magic to flow into the object while maintaining the same effect.
Even though he can now speak for himself, the Siren thanks you in the only way he truly knows how. With a kiss that speaks of all his gratitude and admiration for you. He pours all of the love and passion he’s been holding back into it.
His passion only growing into a raging inferno as you both stumble into your chambers. Your bodies intertwined, a mess of limbs and panting breaths as you join together and become one. Now in body as you are in heart.
Afterwards, with your plan in place and his magic, the two of you quickly rise up the ranks of society. Playing for people of both high and low birth. Traveling to villages and cities all across the country. Always in search of the ones who stole from your Siren his most precious gift.
It’s at a charity concert when that fateful day arrives. Your Siren’s pale blue eyes peeling through the crowd as they always do while you play. His heart hammers in his chest once they fall on a group of familiar looking men. Sharp painful visions of the past sear their way back into his mind and knock the wind out of him.
Your own gaze follows his line of sight, seeing the group of questionable looking men. All of them glancing around at the nobles in the room as if they’ve hit the jackpot. Something fierce burns in your belly and you and your Siren begin to play even harder, working as one to help strengthen his magic.
Even you feel something the moment the hypnosis seeps into their skin and latches onto their bones. Now expressionless faces fall onto you and listen as you two play the rest of the concert. None of them moving an inch as the hours pass. Like caught fish latched onto the fishing line and just waiting to be pulled in.
Near the end as you finish up the finale, your Siren uses his magic and directs the men into the back room. Somewhere isolated and private where you won’t be disturbed. The sound of roaring applause and cheering drowns out the beating of your hearts. Neither of you able to focus on their praise when your revenge is so close in sight.
It’s only as the door clicks behind you both does the siren’s song finally break. Clarity returns to the men’s milky eyes and a chorus of displeasure echos throughout the room. You don’t bother to respond. Let them say their last words, let them voice their complaints because soon they won’t be doing much of anything at all.
You narrow in on them, your murderous gazes eventually enough to silence them. And as you both lift up your instructions to deliver the last blow, recognition passes over each and every one of their faces, remembering what they had done to your love.
Your Siren being the last thing they see before perishing at your hands.
This piece was inspired by Schoenberg verklärte nacht op.4 - boulez. Please check it out, it’s such a beautiful song.
They promised they would love you forever, cradle you even long after you'd returned to the earth, and they did.
Humming as they strolled towards the small clearing they had laid you in, a packet of seeds tucked into their palm as they crossed the boundary between the woods, and your clearing. It was yours, undeniably yours, you lay so perfectly in the dirt here, body half decayed and yet so perfect still. Kneeling by what's left of you, they speak, letting you know what has happened since you left them, since the world ground to a halt.
They sing to you, as they tuck the new seeds into what's left of your ribcage, murmuring wishes into the song as they ask the world to give you back to them, even if they have to wait two lifetimes, but just to give you back to them.
They weep in thick syrupy tears, tree sap drips from them as they coax the flowers to bloom again, hiding the exposed bone and sun-bleached parts of you from sight. You looked so beautiful like this, as if sleeping by their side and not gone from this world.
Perhaps they woods will forgive them, give you back in a more appropriate form, let you spread wings like their own, have you share the wonders of the fairy world and not simply enjoy the small tidbits they could give to you as a human. Perhaps this time, the world will make you equal in life and form, they sob as they think about how beautiful you will look as a fairy folk, how grand a wedding they will give you this time.
If only the world would hurry and bring you back to them.
Big hungry hands grip at your clothes, pulling you closer. A thud is the only warning you have as the monster before you falls to their knees, gripping the sides of your shirt so tightly you're sure their claws will tear straight through the fabric.
"Please. Stay." The words are soft, softer than you've ever heard from them before almost weak as they hide their face in the plushness of your stomach.
"Stay with me, I'll be good. I swear it. I will be good. Just stay. Please." They whisper as if sending prayers into your skin. For a moment you're frozen, hands hovering in the air, but only for a moment before they fall to rest in the monsters hair intertwining with the dark locks. Unsure if you're about to pull them away or even closer.
EYYY recently found this blog and it’s honestly been the break i’ve needed in the midst if a pretty intense depression, so thank u 💘
if ur still taking requests, how would both of ur vampires (the classic one and the punk one) react to the reader getting badly injured? like *just* badly enough to where they think the reader might die for like a bit, but like the injury is more a narrative excuse for them to be worried and protective and stuff and ofc we’re gucci by the end hehe (so like more hurt/comfort than angst)
“The Shape of Panic”
Tags: Male Punk Vampire/Male Vampire X GN Reader | Hurt/Comfort | Protective Vampires | Devoted Love | Panic & Relief | Carried in His Arms| Soft Aftercare | “Don’t Leave Me Yet” | Protective Instincts, Shaking Hands | Rough Tenderness & Relief-Laced Scolding
CW Reader is injured, mentions of blood, you won't die but you're seriously hurt
AN FOR REASONS THE HEADER IS A JOKE—
Wowwie another request! There's actually a few in that box now, joy. Just what we needed after my hard day, some angst w comfort, my FAVORITE dish. I didn't know if you wanted them separately or together so for this case they both have their own fics so this is lowkey kinda long—
.
..
🌹 The Vampire
The forest path was familiar, that was the cruel part.
You’ve walked it dozens of times—the narrow trail behind the greenhouse that dipped toward the riverbank, lined with amber leaves and slick stones darkened by autumn rain. Familiar enough that you hadn’t thought twice about taking the lantern out alone while dusk settled blue across the woods.
You never even saw what gave way beneath you. One wrong step, a sharp crack, then the sickening sensation of falling.
The world lurched violently sideways. Stone slammed into your ribs, your shoulder, your head—and suddenly you were at the bottom of the incline, breath knocked from your lungs in one brutal gasp.
For a moment, everything was quiet. Then pain arrived all at once. It felt hot, blinding, deep enough to steal thought.
You called out to him once—but it came out broken. And then darkness crept in at the edges.
You tried to sit up and cried out instead. Something was wrong with your leg.
He knew before he found you.
Later, he would not be able to explain it. One moment he had been returning home through the woods, moonlight silver across his wings, your scarf tucked absentmindedly into his coat pocket.
Branches snapped around him as he tore through the forest, wings flaring ragged and enormous behind him. He called for you once, twice, voice echoing through the trees with mounting panic.
The next— Terror. A violent, unbearable wrongness ripped through his chest. He was moving before thought caught up.
Then he saw you, at the bottom of the ravine.
Still.
The sound he made did not belong to anything human. He was beside you in an instant, knees hitting mud hard enough to crack stone beneath them. His trembling hands hovered over your body like he couldn’t decide where to touch first.
“My love—my love—look at me—”
Your eyes fluttered weakly at the sound of him. The relief nearly made him collapse.
But then, he smelled it before he could see it. Blood, too much.
“Oh stars,” he whispered hoarsely. “No, no, no…” You tried to speak, sooth him in some way, but pain twisted your face.
His hands were impossibly gentle as they slid beneath you, one cradling the back of your head, the other shaking against your side. His eyes darted frantically over every injury like he could somehow will them undone.
“You’re freezing,” he murmured, panic spilling beneath every word. “How long have you been here? Why did you come alone? Sweetheart, answer me—”
“I’m okay,” you managed weakly.
He looked stricken. “No,” he said softly. “No, you are not.”
You realized suddenly—horribly—that he thought you were dying.
“Hey,” you whispered, reaching clumsily for him. “Hey, I’m here.”
The moment your fingers touched his face, something inside him shattered. He bowed over you, pressing your hand against his cheek with both of his. His entire body shook.
“I thought—” His breath hitched violently. “I thought I was too late.”
Your chest ached harder at that than the injury itself. “You won’t lose me that easily.”
A watery laugh escaped him, broken at the edges. “Cruel thing,” he whispered. “Don’t tease me with eternity when you’re bleeding in my arms.”
Then, carefully—so carefully—he gathered you against his chest.
You hissed sharply as your leg shifted. Immediately he froze.
“I know, I know,” he soothed frantically, voice dropping into something soft and desperate. “Forgive me, my heart. I have you. I’ve got you now.”
His wings wrapped around you completely as he carried you home through the woods, cocooning you from rain and wind alike. You could hear him murmuring the entire way—not even realizing he was doing it.
“My darling… stay awake for me…”
“That’s it, breathe…”
“You’re alright, you’re alright…”
Every few moments he pressed panicked kisses against your hair like he needed the reassurance that you were still warm beneath his mouth.
The cabin became a blur of firelight and trembling hands.
He moved with terrifying speed once inside—bandages, boiled water, blankets dragged close to the hearth. Yet despite the urgency, every touch remained achingly careful.
Like he would sooner snap his own hands than hurt you further.
“You’re fussing,” you mumbled weakly sometime later, head pillowed in his lap.
“I am unraveling,” he corrected quietly.
His fingers combed through your hair over and over, unable to stop touching you now that he had you safely home.
The injury looked far less dire once cleaned and wrapped—a bad fracture, bruised ribs, a nasty cut at your temple. Painful, frightening, but survivable.
He knew that now, yet still he looked pale with lingering horror.
“You should rest too,” you whispered.
He stared at you like the suggestion itself offended him. “My beloved,” he said softly, “you fell down a ravine.”
“…A little bit.”
“A little bit,” he echoed faintly, then covered his eyes with one hand as if enduring a great trial. “You say these things as though you merely misplaced a sock.”
Despite everything, you laughed.
The sound stopped him cold.
He looked at you then with such naked relief it hurt to witness.
“There you are,” he whispered. Slowly, he bent down and pressed his forehead against yours. His shoulders finally loosened for the first time all night.
“I was so frightened,” he admitted quietly. “I have buried too many things in my lifetime. I could not survive burying you.”
Your hand slipped into his. “You won’t have to.” His eyes closed.
Then, with unbearable tenderness, he lifted your hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle one by one.
“My precious heart,” he murmured. “You are never allowed to scare me like that again.”
You smiled sleepily. “That sounds difficult to guarantee.”
A quiet sigh escaped him. “Yes,” he said, curling protectively around you as the fire crackled low. “Unfortunately, you are very committed to being mortal.”
..
🌺 Carter
It happens fast.
Too fast.
One second Carter’s arguing with you about something stupid—whether raccoons could theoretically be unionized, of all things—and the next there’s the screech of tires, shattered glass, and your body hitting the pavement hard enough to make the world stop.
For a moment, he doesn’t move.
Still, blood blooming dark beneath you.
Not because he doesn’t care, but because his brain genuinely cannot process what he’s seeing. You’re crumpled on the ground.
And then—
“...No.” The word leaves him raw.
Suddenly he’s there, dropping to his knees so hard the concrete cracks beneath them. His hands hover uselessly over you at first, trembling—not knowing where to touch without hurting you more.
“Hey. Hey, hey, hey—” His voice breaks around the words. “Sweetheart, c’mon. Open your eyes.”
“There you are,” he mutters, shaky and breathless. “Stars above, don’t do that to me.”
You make a weak noise, barely conscious. Relief punches through him so violently he almost laughs, instead, he swears viciously.
“I know, baby, I know.” He’s talking fast now, words tripping over themselves. “Just stay awake for me, alright? Don’t get cute and dramatic on me now.”
His hands finally settle—one cradling the back of your head carefully, the other pressing against your side where the bleeding’s worst. You hiss in pain.
You blink up at him hazily. “You called the raccoons… freeloaders…”
“You are bleeding out and that’s your comeback?”
Carter stares, then lets out a sharp, disbelieving laugh that sounds one inch from turning into something awful.
“Wanted… the last word…”
“Shut up.” His voice cracks entirely this time. “Please just shut up for a second.”
You’ve never seen him like this, Carter’s always composed in his own messy way—smirking through problems, joking through discomfort, acting too cool to care too much. Now his hands are shaking so badly you can feel it.
People are gathering nearby. Someone’s calling emergency services. Carter snarls at anybody who gets too close, eyes glowing sharp gold in the dark.
“Back off,” he snaps. “I got 'em.”
But his attention always swings back to you immediately. “Stay with me,” he murmurs, forehead pressing against yours briefly. “C’mon, sweetheart. Look at me.”
You try, everything feels heavy. Your fingers twitch weakly against his jacket, catching the leather sleeve. Carter immediately grabs your hand, clutching it tight enough to almost hurt.
“There you go,” he says softly. “That’s good. Keep doing that.” His thumb rubs frantically over your knuckles.
You manage a tiny smile. “You look… scary worried.”
“Oh, I’m furious,” he mutters instantly. “Soon as you’re conscious enough, I’m yelling at you for this.”
“You gonna fight the car?”
“I’ll win.”
Despite everything, you laugh weakly. The sound nearly ruins him. Because it’s thin. Painful, fragile. And for one horrifying moment, your eyes flutter closed.
“I’m tired…”
Carter’s entire face drains of color. “No. Nope.” He cups your face immediately. “No, no, no—you stay awake. Stay with me.”
“You can nap later.” His voice turns rough, desperate. “You hear me? I’m serious. Don’t you pull this on me.”
Silent tears slipping down his face while he holds you together with bloody hands. Your chest aches worse than the injury. “Sorry…” you whisper.
Something wet hits your cheek, it takes you a second to realize— Carter’s crying.
His expression twists immediately. “Don’t apologize.” He sounds almost angry about it. “Just—just stay.”
And you do.
You blink slowly. Carter is asleep beside the bed. Which is alarming in itself, because vampires don’t really sleep.
By the time you wake properly, everything hurts.. Your side is bandaged, your head feels stuffed with cotton, and there’s an annoying beeping noise somewhere nearby.
He’s folded awkwardly into a chair, arms crossed on the mattress beside you, forehead resting there. One of his hands is still wrapped tightly around yours like he thought you’d disappear if he let go.
There are dried bloodstains on his jacket, your blood.
You shift slightly, trying to be gentle but almost immediately, his head jerks up. His eyes lock onto yours. And the relief on his face is so intense it almost hurts to see.
“Oh, thank stars,” he breathes.
Before you can even speak, he’s up and leaning over you carefully, hands ghosting over your face like he’s checking you’re real.
Then, very gently, very suddenly, he presses his forehead against yours. You feel him exhale, long and unsteady.
“You absolute menace,” he mutters shakily. “Do you have any idea—” His voice cuts off.
Like he’s only breathing now because you are too. “I thought you died,” he whispers. The vulnerability in his voice makes your heart ache.
You squeeze his hand weakly. “I’m okay.”
“Yeah,” he says, though his grip tightens immediately. “You are now.”
A pause.
Then his eyes narrow sharply. “You ever scare me like that again,” he says hoarsely, “I’m haunting you personally.”
Carter oddly relaxes at the empty threat, shoulders finally unclenching for the first time in hours.
“There’s my idiot,” he murmurs. And when he kisses your forehead, it’s trembling enough to give away how terrified he really was.
. . . verse 781 alessio x gn reader !! 🍓 : ﹙ mercenary ˖ inhuman ˖ antihero ˖ punkgoth character ﹚
you adored him, but you had to let him go. it would seem that alessio refuses to let you go completely though. you're waiting for a hero, he's waiting for you.
﹙ cws ﹚: angst | wc : 1.0k
﹙ receipts ﹚: put your pitchforks down! PUT THEM DOWN THIS IS CHARACTER DEVEL-
Ex!Alessio who just can't believe you're not in his arms anymore.
( Heeeyy. )
You frown at the pop up text. There's only one person you know who talks like that.
( What phone did you get now? )
( I just keep changing the card baby. Not that hard. Anw, dinner tonight? )
( Sure. )
( Really!? )
( If we were fucking together. )
( Come on amor. Don't do me like that. )
You humour him one more text before this number's blocked too. You can already see his frown through the screen. As much as your heart might twinge, you'd rather it ache than shattered. How else could you separate yourself from a man like Alessio?
Not only did he cook, he cleaned too. Respectful as hell. Made you laugh. Worshipped the very ground you walked on. You needed cash? Not with him. Had a problem? Not with him!
Oh right, yeah. Apart from one: he's a damn antihero.
The prospect of him being a mercenary, while daunting at first, isn't what drove you away. The nights he trudged in bloodied, the endless weeks he'd spend away, the stray bullets of anxiety shot several times through your gut. Now, that's what took you to the edge. What sealed the deal? His consistent strings of death. Yes, he came back like a npc nudged off a pixel cliff. But this wasn't a game. Neither was your heart. There is only so much you could take.
He's simply the hero you'll keep waiting for. Only — he's not a hero. He's a murderer. Once you left the relationship, only then could your morals fully voice their opinions.
This isn't a game.
It splits two ways. On one hand, you wished he could let you go. Slip through his fingers as easily as atrocities left them. On the other, you're almost touched with each attempt he makes. As frustrating as they might be.
Phone tango is a bi-weekly occurrence. Aren't they suspicious of how many SIM cards he's buying? Isn't he getting tired? Not when he shows up at your door. He'll talk for a solid twenty minutes to your door monitor. Either fully aware you're listening to everything or clinging to hope you'll check the recording.
"C'mon am I that bad? Look! Didn't even break through the window this time!"
He seems so proud of that statement. Like a child with an A for effort. "I just wanna talk baby. Promise. Time me even! I just need to talk to you and it's hard to do that since. Y'know. You keep blocking my numbers . . . didn't you like that cat pic last night?"
At midnight. He spammed you with several cat pics before trying to start another conversation. Maybe his method worked. This time you granted him ten minutes instead of five.
Another thing he never forgets? Your flowers. You'll open the door to a new bouquet every month. Florist bought, but with his own touches of course. You fell for him that day he brought you wild flowers. Of course he's trying his luck with this. You'll turn over the card with a cartoonish-mini-Alessio sporting comically big, pleading eyes to read an even more desperate note at the back:
"For my pretty tesoro. Give me one more chance?"
The flowers are let into your home. But he isn't. You almost feel solemn as you plop the blooms into your favourite vase. When would this end? Are you stringing both of you along to a meaningless demise? Is death not what you feared?
Maybe a part of you wanted it all. The resolve. All the lose ends to tie themselves so that you could find yourself in his arms again. Unfortunately, the pain they held outweighed the pain to be apart. It's funny, you're still here. Waiting for that hero.
You hold your breath whenever you spot him in public. This time, you're far too distracted. Male company tends to do that, doesn't it?
Is this it? What you've been waiting for? The questions leave you blind to emerald strays from the side. Sat in a booth not too far from yours. Not that it mattered. Your smile wasn't for him anymore. That much he can see. Crystal clear.
Happiness. When last did he spot it? It's a memory so vividly burned into his mind. How foreign it feels to witness it on your beaming face. It suits you.
Dark nails claw at knees. Doesn't make it any less uncomfortable that it's for another man. What more should he expect? You're not together anymore. He's not your saving grace or solace tower any longer.
It's only when black tuffs catch your vision, do your ears tune to your heart's wail. You stiffen at first. Assuming a scene. That damned grin as he so readily sits beside you. Drapes an arm over your shoulder and converses with the other man in front of you. You expect to smell leather, but only the aroma of coffee remains.
Had he . . .
That night, you await the inevitable text. Your phone stays silent. Maybe tomorrow? Only the weather forecast is there to greet your sleepy eyes. Routine, right, he already texted you two days ago. You'll wait a week. But when that too passes? Your gut coils.
You turn. Neither of your visions came to pass. You catch a familiar head's back. Solemn nips at his boot's heels. So heavy in the way he walks. Undeniably swift as he leaves the cafe fate brought you together in. You see the red string laid torn over the checkered floor.
The calendar flutters. One week, two - three. Your flowers are due, but your vase is left empty. Another month, not a peep at your doorbell. Nor a beep from your phone. Even when there is, it's never him.
It's cruel to expect, you know. Distance does make the heart grow fonder. Colder. Like a damsel who forgot their coat atop a dark, windy building. Feet to the edge. Heart calling. Soul pleading. In the end, you're still waiting for a hero.
But he's not a hero, is he?
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Should I have used “you” instead of “her”? Let me know what you think!
Why did I have to fall for her?
Maybe it was easy to fall for someone I knew I could never have, that could never really be mine. Even if I have her in my arms, on top of me, under me, there would always be that lingering doubt. Would she even be here if he was different? If he could give her the same pathetic, puppy devotion that oozes out of every one of my pores for her?
Feeling her under me, my hands gripping her plush hips as I push her back against the too soft mattress of the hotel, the thoughts wouldn’t leave me. Even as her hands traced the scars on my face, her eyes wide and doe like, as if she hasn’t see them a hundred times. The thoughts don’t leave me. They settle, burrowing.
Her fingers curl into my hair, then trace my horns. Fuck. My hips buck harder into her as she touches them. It’s so intimate. No one does that. It reminds me of how she had shyly offered to polish them for me once, not understanding that that was reserved for close family or… lovers. Spouses.
We are both such traumatized creatures, but I’m not the kind of thing that someone like her ends up with. My broken home. Broken life. Broken everything. The baggage that weights me down even as I plaster on a smile the second someone might see me.
The social butterfly. The chatterbox. The one that was forced to sit alone because I never stopped talking in class.
The one that desperately was just seeking for someone, anyone, to stay. Eventually someone had to stay, right? No. They never did.
My tail wrapped around my stomach, as if that could push down the nausea churning in the bottom of my stomach. She won’t stay either. She never does. Why would she? He’s back home. Waiting for her. Even if they had a fight. She’ll tell me she’s sorry. She had fun. I’m so much fun!- but she still loves him.
I bury my face in her neck, my hot breath washing over the pale, delicate skin. My teeth grazing it, desperate still to sake some kind of claim. To prove that I had been here. Touched her. Had her, even for a moment.
“D-don’t. He might see,” she whispers, reminding me that I’m only temporary. I’m never the one she’ll come home too.
“Right. I’m sorry,” I whisper back, my nails digging into her hips.
She doesn’t notice as I break skin, but I do. I always do. She’ll notice tomorrow and text me that I was too rough. That last time was the last time, and then in a week she’ll text me how she’s leaving him. How he treats her poorly. And he does. I know he does.
So I’ll come, refusing to take her back to my place even as she asks. I don’t need her to see the way I tape my doorframe to keep the cold out, or how I sleep on the floor like the dog I am. Instead, I’ll pay for a hotel. It’s easier. Safer. It’ll protect what little respect she might have for me. I’ll pick up extra shifts to cover it.
“Fuck, fuck I’m so close baby,” she mewls, knotting her fingers in my hair. “You’re good. So good. The best. Fuck!”
Did he make her sound like this, too? Did he bring her to the brink of ecstasy even as she was crying and begging for more? He must know every face she makes. Every sound. How her sweat tastes. Feels. Smells. How her eyes roll back and the way her lower lip trembles as she clenches and pulses until there’s a puddle under her that she’s too embarrassed to even apologize for.
My tail around my stomach tights as my stomach lurches. What is wrong with me? The ache in my body for her is too intense. My mate. My precious human mate that can’t feel the pull of the mate bond so I’m the only one who suffers.
I press deeper one more time just as I feel her clench around me. Her cries of wanton desire cause the sinking of my heart. Soon she’ll be gone. After just enough time to recover and “realize what she did”. It was always the same.
I don’t even try to cum anymore. I just soak inside of her, feeling the rapid pulsing dissipate into dull, then stillness.
“I… I’m sorry,” she whispers, her fingers trailing up my horns.
“I know,” my voice is rough as I keep my face buried in her neck, my arms snaking to hold her closer to me. “Wait five more minutes before you leave?”
“Alright. Five minutes.”
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To the wonderful Patron that requested this angsty short story of a M!Vampire who is waiting for his reincarnated lover (F!Reader) to appear, only to realize the woman he finds does not harbour his love's Soul-
I am fueled with such emotion at the thought of this!! Thank you for requesting, but also, AH!! It hurts!
Doesn't help that I recently found a song that fits this so well and listened to it over and over again! Eternity by Alex Warrens.
Everyone- please enjoy this little slice of angst!
If you pledge to the Archive Tier, you can request a 3k word story alongside having access to my Exclusive stories!
My Ko-Fi is also open to short commissions and 'pay-what-you-want' requests!
Themes: angst, no warnings needed, just some feels
The stutter of your pulse had his attention in an instant.
Even over the noise of the crowd, the fireworks that boomed overhead in the sky and exploded into a million suns, blinding him, Colin still found you amongst it all.
His cloak billowed behind him, stretching into wisps of darkness to hurdle him through the crowd unseen; right to your side. The festival treats had been forgotten in his wake, leaving his hands free to rest on your waist as he became flesh once more behind you.
A cold wind followed him. Stirring your hair and casting the group of strangers in front of you in a winter’s gale.
You didn’t startle, but your heart fluttered in your chest when you felt his touch. And a devilish grin overcame your frustrated frown, directed to the group of people that had taken a step back. The stench of fear and unwashed bodies filled Colin’s nose.
He half tilted his head towards you, as if about to bury his face into the strands of your hair. To stifle the horrid scent.
“Sunflower, do I need to crack some heads together?” It was always his first question. In the drawling Irish accent, rippling on the edge of a growl, it was a sure way to warm your skin and ease any unnecessary worry.
“No, no. They were just leaving.” You said. Much more confident now your husband was here. Who fixed the group with a glare so cold that those around you would have thought winter came early. “They were asking about the estate on the edge of the woods.”
“Oh?” Intrigue sparked through Colin’s crimson gaze. Igniting the color into a vibrant warning. “Do you mean…our estate, dear?”
“Why yes, that is our estate, my love.” You clapped your hands together, as if just remembering the house he had built for you all those years ago. “You gentlemen were looking for something? A monster?”
Usually, Colin wouldn’t play with threatrics while in town; due to your plea to not bring attention so early into yours and his arrival. But with the festivities in full swing, warm blood in his belly and your body in his arms, he felt rather playful.
So, when he smiled, the group of hunters did not meet a friendly human grin, but instead were met with a mouth full of thick, canines that were built for tearing and maiming.
They all reached for their weapons but Colin clicked his tongue and waggled his finger at them.
The group froze.
“I wouldn’t do that. You’ll all find yourselves 10 miles out of town and staked to a tree before your weapons are out of their holsters.” Colin warned with a tone that did not match the dark threat. “Yer might wanna seek different prey, gentlemen. I’m a home-body now. See this beautiful woman here-” He paused to squeeze your side and nuzzle his lips against your neck. Making you squirm and laugh in his arms. “This here is my beloved wife. And I’m focused on building a life here with her. And I can't do that while being a vicious little beastie. The town would run us out. And my Sunflower likes this town. So, I’m behaving.”
The hunters glared and some made threats, their voices rising with vicious aggression that made Colin lick his lips with anticipation. The crowd around you started staring, some even began to leave the street. It wasn’t until the local authorities swooped down on them in the crowd did the group realize the racket they were making.
The Sheriff glanced at you, then up at Colin. “Trouble, Colin?”
The Irishman smirked and nodded, drawing you closer against his side as the hunters tried arguing. But they were ignored. “They startled poor Wifey. Started talking nonsense about a monster.”
The Sheriff looked downright irritated. Barking an order at his men to gather up the hunters. “I told you lot that there ain’t no monsters out here! Now, leave town or spend the night in jail.”
Colin tugged on your waist and steered you into the crowd. Disapparing from sight before anyone got the bright idea of raising a weapon.
You slipped your hand into his, interlocking your fingers together where he could feel the steady thrum of your pulse against his palm.
“What gave me away this time?” You asked.
“Your heart.” Colin replied with a wink. “Your heart called and I answered.”
“As you always do.”
“As I always will.” He promised, tugging you close and embracing you beneath the shadow of a village house. Concealing his eyes from the exploding stars that filled the night with color and away from prying eyes.
There he kissed you, melting into your arms. Your warmth.
When you pulled away, gasping for breath, he grumbled pathetically, chasing your lips. “One more.”
You laughed, pushing him away, but he held you fast against him. Cradling you as you tried to avoid his smooches. “I need air, Colin.”
“And I need your affection.” He pouted, plastering open mouthed kisses along your neck and cheek until he captured your lips again. “Don’t I get a reward for scaring off the stinky men?”
You curled your nose up and finally gave in, allowing him to take his prize with a purr rattling his chest.
“They were rather smelly.” You agreed in between breaths.
“Worse than garlic.” Colin joked and reveled in your laugh as the festival swelled around you both. Filling his ears with music and merriment.
~ * ~
“Colin!” The barista’s voice cracked through his sharp hearing like a clap of thunder. His smile was at least charming and he was one of the few in the establishment that looked after themselves outside of work.
The barista smelled like soap and clean laundry, unlike the poor workers at the back that smelled of sweat and various old pastries.
So, when Colin returned the warm greeting, it was genuine and not altogether grumpy like he gave the first person who took his order.
“Thanks, have a good day.” Colin tipped the man an extra few dollars for the service.
Which in turn, rewarded him with a larger smile and a sparkle in the man’s eyes. “Damn, sorry dude, but your accent is sexy! Irish?”
“I bless you for getting it right on the first go.” Colin laughed, saluting the man with a small raise of the take-away coffee cup and turned to leave.
However, the new light-heartedness very quickly vanished as someone slammed into him, exploding coffee all over himself.
Cursing, Colin was momentarily distracted by the burning hot liquid over his chest and couldn’t catch the person as they fled the cafe. Not even an apology was uttered. And Colin gave in to the anger and frustration with a final heavy sigh, snatching up a napkin from a nearby table to start dapping at his shirt.
The nice barista came out quickly to offer a new coffee and to start cleaning up the mess on the floor. Colin apologized to him at least. The poor guy was busy as it was without needing to scrub the floor in-between orders.
Colin stepped around the puddle of coffee and went to the utensil table by the wall. Out of the way while he tried cleaning up his ruined shirt.
“Excuse me, could I squeeze past you?”
In every lifetime, your voice was the same. And it brought life with you wherever you went.
The same cold downpour after a blistering summer.
Or the first spark to dry kindling on a winter’s night.
You always- always -ignited life in him. Flicking a switch somewhere in his chest he didn't know had been turned off; reminding him that he was here, at this moment.
And in every life-time, no matter if only a few decades separated you from him, or the sands of time have passed centuries around him, you always found him in the worst moments.
“Sir?” Your impatient, yet polite, words snapped him out of his daze and he blinked, scattering the fog of stillness so he could offer up a quick apology.
“I’m sorry! Got lost in my own thoughts.” He chuckled, quickly stepping out of your way so you could reach the table of utensils and napkins. He cast the soggy napkin into the bin, glaring down at the deep brown stain that was still present on his chest.
Your eyes were melted pools of pitying amusement as you watched him snatch up another napkin and furiously dab away at the mess.
You at least had the kindness to press your lips together so not to directly laugh at his misfortune.
“It’s ok, you can laugh.” He smiled. Emotions, foreign to him for some time, were burning through his veins like molten rock as your smile grew.
Please laugh. I have craved the sound ever since your last breath.
“Looks like you’re not having a good afternoon.” You said, pointing to the mess on his shirt and splattering of coffee on his shoes.
He glimpsed the lingering glance to his head of messy hair, which was sticking out at odd angles due to the humidity of the day. A disaster compared to his usual neat style.
You graciously said nothing about it.
You will laugh about this when you wake up. He thought sheepishly. At least you weren’t the reason for the mess this time.
“It’s been one of those days, for sure.” He agreed. Taking a few more napkins from the table.
And as if the universe was intent on making this reunion any more cheesy, the grey clouds blanketing the city finally released their water.
It seemed as if the very ocean had started falling from the sky outside. Filling the small cafe with the thunderous roar of heavy droplets hitting the roof.
Colin pouted, biting back the growl of irritation. “Absolutely delightful.” He did manage to spit out.
“The one day I didn’t bring my damn umbrella.” You sighed with equal aspiration and to no one in particular. “I’m going to miss the bus…”
The lines were inter-locking. Like puzzle-pieces clicking together, revealing the broad picture to Colin and the many coincidences that fixed this meeting into his life.
Whatever entity- whether it be Fate, the universe, some bored divine being -was truly shoving the two of you together.
There would be no accidental passes this time. You were being dangled in front of him like a carrot on a string.
And of course, he was going to take the bait.
“If you like, I could drive you to wherever you need to go.” He offered, throwing away the last dirtied napkin. Giving up on his shirt.
The moment he gave you his full attention again, he knew he had messed up. The look on your face confused him.
Why were you staring at him like that?
“Oh…That’s sweet, but…I remember there being an old saying of ‘don’t take rides from strangers’.”
Strangers
That word from your lips was like a stake through his heart. It chilled him…The spark in his chest sputtered. But thankfully the winds of logic fanned the flame of hope back to life before it became coals in his chest.
Of course you’re a stranger! She doesn’t know who you are.
He cleared his throat, taking a respective step back from your reincarnated host. “Right. You’re absolutely right.” There wasn’t much he could say to soothe that look in your eye.
The same look that used to summon him like a wraith to your side and have him stepping between you and whatever was making you uncomfortable.
But now he was the one cast in that disdainful gaze.
It made his skin crawl.
Your host-body offered a smile, one to ease the tension rather than offer warmth, and stepped around him.
He heard your heart-beat; quick and fluttering. Your steps moved quickly and in your wake, the scent of anxiety filled his nose. Sharp and cold to his senses.
No matter the situation, no matter the time that has passed from your death to your next life- he has never sensed worry from you caused by his actions.
I always know it's you. Deep down, underneath the host’s memories and thoughts, your voice calls to me every time.
And even when it takes me a while to wake up…I know I'm safe. Because you would never let anything happen to me.
“Excuse me, miss!” He called after you and by some gracious miracle, you stopped.
He approached slowly, but immediately halted when he heard the violent hammering of your heart.
Irritation, caution, fear and disdain swirled through the air around you. Masking you in a clear barrier of ‘do not touch me’.
It was so blatant that even the other patrons took note of your discomfort. A group of women by the windows hushed their chattering to watch him take another step towards you.
He’d be mauled to a new death if his next words weren’t the right ones.
Those beautiful eyes of yours regarded him coldly, your body ready to strike him. Muscles coiled like a viper.
He wanted to fall to his knees and beg for you to see him. To remember him.
“H-Here…” He slipped past you to the rack of drying umbrellas. Taking his from the collection and holding it out to you. “There’s nothing against an act of kindness, right?”
He was sure if your host-body rejected him, his unbeating heart would crumble to dust. The hesitation had his fingers tightening…his throat squeezing…then you took it from him. Careful not to have your hands touch, you move quickly, nodding with a forced smile on your lips.
“Thanks…” So much uncertainty…so much distance in your gaze…Where are you Sunflower?
Your reincarnated body fled from the cafe before he could say anything else.
~ * ~
He had a blanket spread across the ground beside your old grave. The tombstone that had your name carved into the stone was cold and heavy. And very, very big.
You would faint at the price of it whenever he next brought you here. You had made him promise not to purchase another mausoleum with protective gargoyles and weeping cupids…so he bought the most expensive tombstone instead.
The flowers from this visit sat beneath the date of your death.
It always felt like an eternity when your Soul slept. But the grave marked only a decade had passed since he last buried you.
“You must be pretty impatient to get back to me.” Colin teased, leaning back on his palms to look up at the night sky. A sea of twinkling lights and a crescent moon stared back at him. “Not to tell you what to do, but could you hurry up? I found your body and made an absolute fool of myself too. I can already hear the jokes now…”
“Excuse me…”
Like a lightening bolt through his chest, your voice sent fire through his veins and he was on his feet in half-a-second.
You stood on the cemetery path bathed in a halo of light from the lamp-post you stood under. You had an adorable squint wrinkling your gaze, looking out towards him curiously, but your eyes didn’t land on him.
Ah, she probably can’t see me. Colin thought and moved in a way his boots crunched the grass beneath him as he walked. And spoke softly so as not to startle your host-body into running away.
“Taking a ride from a stranger is off the cards, but stalking said stranger? Seems like double-standards to me.”
The host’s eyes widened and they took an involuntary step back. The movement had Colin stopping in his tracks, just on the edge of the circle of light on the path.
He raised his hands in a gesture of peace. “Sorry if I startled you.”
“It’s ok…I just…nevermind. What are you doing here?” The question was so adorably anxious Colin couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m visiting-” ‘You’ was on the tip of his tongue but he clamped down on the word before it came out. “Visiting a loved one. It’s the only time I can these days.”
Your brow creased, a look so sweetly familiar he almost reached out to touch you when you stormed past him. Clicking your phone light on, you scanned the area behind him. Finding the blanket and flowers, your shoulders relaxed and he heard your exhale shake from your lungs.
Colin made sure to keep his distance, but joined you by your own grave as you read the name carved into the pristine smooth stone. “Worried I’m offering the dead a ride?” He asked and it was adorable that you tried to hide your amusement.
Despite the hammering beat of your heart, you still found him funny. Adorable.
Colin then cast a quick look over the cemetery. There were others within the grounds but no one near the two of you.
He was content knowing you weren't being followed.
“No. I cut through the cemetery after my shifts-” You stopped yourself before you said anything else. A smart move to make in front of a stranger…As painful as the decision was to him.
He chuckled through his bleeding heart- finding no warmth in your gaze as it settled on him finally.
“I’m not stalking you.” He reassured. Wincing when your heart-beat quickened with those words. “That’s not exactly reassuring, I know. But this is just a coincidence."
“Mhmm..” You shifted uneasily on your feet, your eyes flicked between Colin and the gate at the end of the path.
He’d seen rabbits calmer than you around him.
It hurt…so much…
“You’re not in there are you…” The words tumbled from his mouth before he could stop them. His gaze floated down to the tombstone. A shake in his voice. “You’re still asleep.”
Your host-body’s pulse galloped in her chest and the spice of fear peppered his nose. Colin didn’t bother lifting his attention off your grave. Just waved a hand, startling your look-alike. “Go. I’m sorry for bothering you.”
The reincarnated face didn’t need to be told twice. And she ran from your grave as if she expected a bomb to splatter the earth and take them all with it.
“What a cruel joke Death has played on me.” Colin hissed. His claws broke through his skin and punctured the cold flesh of his palms as he squeezed his fists together. Forcing the chilling pulse of power in him to settle as he read your old name over and over again.
“I miss you, Sunflower. Don’t sleep in for too long.”
