Relationship: Moonknight System; Marc Spector x Reader, Steven Grant x Reader, Jake Lockely x Reader
Fandom: Moonknight
Request: No
Warnings: Fluff
Word Count: 915
Main Masterlist: Here
Marvel Masterlist: Here
Summary: Between a failed marriage, a new person on the dating scene, and an intense Spanish speaking Chicagoan, the boys have different love languages, to say the least.
Consider Donating: Here
Marc guards.
Steven overshares.
Jake claims.
She learned early on that loving the system meant loving contradictions.
It meant knowing whose hand she was holding without having to look. It meant understanding that affection was not a single language here— it was a dialect, constantly shifting depending on who was fronting, who was tired, who was afraid.
And PDA?
Public displays of affection were… complicated.
Marc loves like a shield.
Marc Spector hated being seen. Not in the dramatic sense— he was not shy. He just understood visibility as risk. Crowds meant eyes. Eyes meant threats. And threats meant you.
So when Marc was fronting, his affection became subtle to the point of invisibility. He did not hold her hand in public. Not fully.
Instead, he walked close enough that their arms brushed. He guided her with pressure at her elbow, fingers barely touching but always there. When crossing streets, his hand would hover just behind her back—not touching, but ready.
She noticed the pattern long before he realized he had one.
At the grocery store, he positioned the cart between his lady and anyone who got too close. In cafés, he chose seats with a clear line of sight to exits. When strangers spoke to her too long, Marc’s body shifted—shoulders squared, jaw tight, presence unmistakable.
Once, the woman reached for his hand anyway. Just briefly. Just her pinky hooking into his. He stiffened like she had touched a bruise.
“Hey,” she murmured. “It’s okay.”
Marc glanced around, eyes scanning automatically, then down at your joined fingers.
“…Don’t,” he said quietly.
Her heart sank, but then he did not pull away.
Instead, he adjusted. Her hand disappeared beneath the edge of his jacket, pressed against his side, hidden from view. His arm came down around her, not possessive, not performative—protective, shielding.
Later, when she asked him about it, he exhaled slowly.
“I don’t like people knowin’ where to look,” he admitted. “If they see what matters to me…”
He trailed off. She finished it for him. “They know where to hurt you.”
Marc did not answer. He just leaned his forehead against hers, breath warm, grounding.
In public, Marc’s love was restraint.
In private, it was devotion.
Steven loves like a confession.
Steven Grant, on the other hand, adored being seen. Not in an attention seeking way… More like he couldn’t quite believe his luck.
Dating her felt unreal to him. Like something that might vanish if he did not keep touching it, acknowledging it, proving it existed.
So Steven held hands. Properly. Fingers laced, thumbs brushing, swinging your arms slightly when he was feeling particularly brave. He leaned into his girlfriend in lines. Pressed soft kisses to her temple without thinking.
Once, at the museum, he forgot himself entirely.
She was looking at a display; rambling excitedly, hands gesturing as she explained something he already knew but loved hearing from you anyway. And Steven just… stared.
Heart pounding. Chest warm. Overwhelmed by affection.
Before he could overthink it, he kissed her.
Right there. In public. In front of God, tourists, and at least one scandalized child.
He froze immediately afterward.
“Oh— oh my God, I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked, I just— are you alright? I mean—”
She laughed and kissed him again, softer this time. Steven’s ears went pink for the rest of the day.
After that, PDA with Steven became a stream of gentle, earnest affection. Hand squeezes when he was nervous. Arms looped around her waist while waiting for the bus. Whispered compliments pressed against her cheek because he forgot other people existed.
“You’re bloody brilliant, you know that?”
“I can’t believe you chose us.”
“You look— sorry, you just look very nice today.”
He said us, even when talking about himself.
Steven loved her like he was constantly confessing— every touch an admission, every kiss a quiet please stay.
Jake loves like a promise you do not get to refuse.
Jake Lockley did not believe in subtlety. If Marc hid and Steven glowed, Jake claimed.
The first time Jake fronted on a date, she knew immediately— not because of the accent, though that helped, but because his hand landed on her waist like it had always belonged there.
In public, Jake touched her constantly. Not indecently. Intentionally.
An arm slung around her shoulders. Fingers hooked into her belt loops. A hand at her lower back that never drifted, never hesitated. When people looked too long, Jake smiled slow and sharp and pulled his lover closer.
Possessive? Yes.
Uncomfortable? Never.
He read her body language perfectly. Every touch checked in without asking. Every kiss was deliberate— slow enough to make a point, brief enough to keep her wanting more.
Someone once flirted with him at a bar. Jake did not even respond. He just turned, cupped her jaw, and kissed his girlfriend like he was signing his name on her. When he pulled back, he murmured in Spanish, low and intimate, “Mine.”
Later, when she teased him about it, he smirked.
“PDA ain’t about them,” he said. “It’s about you knowin’. And you do.”
Jake loved like a promise. Not a sweet one. A binding one.
Loving the system meant navigating all of it—the restraint, the tenderness, the fire.
Some days, you walked between worlds.
Marc watching crowds.
Steven swinging your hands.
Jake pulling you close.
And somehow, it all worked. Because no matter who was fronting, no matter how different the affection looked; they all chose her. Every time.
Warnings: Fluff, Vague Mentions of Alcohol, Weed, and Violence
Word Count: 802
Main Masterlist: Here
Horror Masterlist: Here
Summary: Coming from different cultures, and different times, the boys each have different ideas of how to properly express their interest in a lady.
Consider Donating: Here
It started when she was still human. Dwayne had found her wandering the boardwalk— aimless and searching. She was tracing her eyes over the stalls, pausing to scan different wears and items that caught her fancy.
He was observant; that much was obvious. Quiet with eyes that saw through the cracks and lines that threatened to cover nature’s true intent. Dwayne noticed that she started walking to the beach after a while when she had normally taken her bicycle down.
However, one of those surf nazi’s was riding around on a familiar bike in the parking lot of the pier. His face wound up on a missing persons poster. And when she woke up the next morning, her bike was back, in brand-new condition, with a small ‘D’ intricately and carefully carved into the metal.
Paul met her at the edge of a bonfire, where the music bled into the night air and laughter carried farther than it should have. She was barefoot in the sand, toes curling against the cooling embers, swaying like she did not care who was watching— and Paul watched immediately.
He was not subtle about it. Never had been. He hovered close, and worked up the courage to make the first contact, though the joint he hammered before hand probably helped.
Paul offered her a drink she did not take, talked her ear off about nothing and everything until she smiled just to keep up. He noticed when she stopped showing up to the bonfires after midnight, when she left early with her jacket clutched too tight around her shoulders. Paul noticed the way she shivered even when the fire was high.
The next time she came, there was a blanket waiting. Stolen, probably. Clean, definitely. Draped around her shoulders with a grin and a shrug like it was nothing at all.
“How’d you know I’d be cold tonight,” she asked, snuggling into the warmth he provided.
“I sometimes pay attention,” came his reply.
She found herself staying later after that. Laughing louder. Talking easier. Leaving with warm hands and warmer memories she couldn’t quite explain.
Marko was baffled because she did not move out of his way. Did not flinch when his bike cut too close, did not apologize when his shoulder brushed hers on the boardwalk. She met his stare head-on, unafraid and unimpressed.
He tested her after that. Lingered too close, stole things from her hands just to see if she would chase him down. Sometimes she did. Sometimes she did not. Either way, she did not leave. Marko noticed who else noticed her; the way men’s gazes lingered too long, the way attention turned sharp when it thought it could take something.
One night, someone tried. The man tried to grab her, hands going around her throat. She never saw Marko move, only heard the scuffle behind her and the crack of bone against pavement, before he continued ushering her to the light of the boardwalk again.
The next morning, her necklace, the one that had snapped during the struggle, was waiting on her windowsill, repaired and warm from someone else’s hands. When she confronted him, Marko just shrugged, smirked, like he had all the secrets.
The cherub vampire stayed closer after that. Close enough to touch. Close enough to choose her, over and over.
David noticed her because she was consistent. Same path down the boardwalk. Same pause at the rail. Same thoughtful expression, like she was weighing the night before stepping into it.
He never approached her at first. David believed in watching— in understanding a thing completely before touching it. He learned her habits, the rhythm of her life, the moments when she was most vulnerable without ever realizing it. The boardwalk bent subtly around her presence; danger veered away before it reached her.
She began to feel safer without knowing why. Doors locked themselves. Lights flickered on when she needed them. Once, she found her keys arranged neatly on her kitchen table after she’d sworn she had lost them. Like a guardian angel watching over her, and not once did she notice the icy blue eyes following her.
When they finally met, she put two and two together. There was just something about the way David watched her that made her realize exactly who he was to her. David offered nothing flashy; only the promise that as long as he existed, she would not be unguarded again.
And when she officially joined the pack, well… everyone fell into a comfortable rhythm. Dwayne would repair and silently gift her what she needed. Paul offered stolen items of comfort, stuff that will remind her of them. Marko, he was shifty eyed, almost like he was waiting for a chance to defend her honor. And David was a silent guardian, watching over.
Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Mentions of Blood and Violence, Strong Language, Happy Endings
Word Count: 2,358
Main Masterlist: Here
X-Men Masterlist: Here
Summary: Being dragged into the Void by your good buddy Wade was not how you imagined to be spending your days after your lover had died.
A single card was fixed between her fingers as she walked behind the other two people on their journey. There was silence all around the trio as they walked through the field. She did not pay attention to what was being said, nor did she care very much. If it was of any importance to her, they would let her know.
Before she knew what was going on, a dog was running straight for them. But the man with long, flowing locks that was running behind made her finger tingle with energy. After Deadpool and the Wolverine ahead of her did not move to attack the man, she let that energy fizzle out. Not that it would have done much damage anyways. It was getting harder and harder to remember what it was like. And yet, she could see it so clearly in her mind; the first time he had shown her what he could do.
“So what can you do exactly? You just throw cards at people?”
“Nah, cher,” his hands came up to hold a card between his fingers, “is much more den dat. I charge da playin’ cards wit energy. And den dey go boom.” His chuckle followed shortly afterwards.
“Is that so huh?” She chuckled as well. But the man just smiled, and wrapped his arms around her anyways.
“See is like dis, cher. Watch and learn.”
With his arms around her, he held an ace of hearts. Flicking it in the air caused a pink glow to encompass it. She giggled as he swiped the card from the sky, and touched it to her skin. The resulting kinetic energy made her entire body jolt, but the man kept her grounded as it flowed through each and every muscle.
“Feel dat, cher?” His breath fanned across her cheek as she rested against his chest. Once she had recovered, she held her hand and felt the card laid in her palm. Flipping it over through her fingers, she managed to produce a glow and a light crackling energy field around the object.
“Atta girl, cher.” A kiss was laid upon her cheek, and she felt the day old scruff rub against the crook of her neck.
“You comin’, bub?” A gruff voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Snapping into reality, the three men in front of her were looking like they were off to go somewhere.
“Apologies,” came her reply.
“Did we just miss some exposition about you? I feel like we just missed a vital flashback into your tragic backstory. Besides, I would like to find out what you do exactly. We’ve never gotten a clear answer. You just sort of do everything, like Taylor Swift.” Wade was having none of her dismissal.
“What are you talking about?” She was utterly confused, but Logan waved the red menace of off.
“Don’t pay him any mind. Come on, let’s go.” They all made the trek out to the dense corn that housed an old Honda Odyssey, which made the merc in red pitch a hissy fit.
“Get in the fucking car.” Logan snapped at Wade, utterly feed up with his antics. Before being prompted, she threw open the side door and climbed n the back. She watched as Deadpool tried to run off with the sweet little pup that had found them, but Wolverine put a very fast stop to that. Defeated, Wade climbed in the passenger seat, while Logan went in the driver’s, and they were off.
Somewhere along the way, she must have dozed off. That was the only explanation for the memory she was experiencing right now. Except, she was not exactly experiencing it as t had happened. No, she was watching it from an outsider’s perspective.
The first thing she saw, was a dingy old motel room floor. And the next, was laughing. Looking up, she saw them. It was her, and her beau play fighting on the bed of the motel room.
“Now, you know bettah den to play dirty, cher. Ain’t no coyon, ya know?” Her lover had trapped her arms to her body, and was smiling as big as ever. Plush lips stretched across his face. Hazel eyes twinkled brightly.
“Didn’t hear you complaining about me playing dirty last night,” she teased. Turning in his arms, she looked up at her lover with nothing but adoration.
“Well, Gambit seems to remember you not complainin’ neither.” His lips came down onto hers.
Watching from her spot near the dresser, the future her could still feel the wonderful pressure of their kiss. Tracing her fingers over her own, melancholy filled her heart. He looked so alive in this moment. A moment that she cherished with her whole being.
“Ahh!”
Something far less pleasant awoke her this time from her thoughts. One of Wade’s knives had lodged itself in her shin. Blood steadily poured itself from the wound. And the world fell still for a moment. Raising her eyes, she felt herself shaking in anger and pain as Deadpool met her gaze.
“Oh no. Oh, I am so sorry.” He wheezed. But it was too late.
Her other leg raised and kicked him hard in the head. While he was disoriented, her mind contorted the blade that was in his hands; even the hand that was holding the knife began to bend and break. Holding her knee, she made herself fall through the car and onto the ground below.
“Where’d she go? Magic woman.” She heard Deadpool exclaim loudly. It was followed by a growl and a squeak. And the car started to rock with the force that they were going at each other.
Rolling to her right, she got out from underneath the vehicle before someone sent a blade through to her again. Releasing her leg, she crawled on her belly over to a tree that was still facing the car. Her forearms were covered in dirt and leaves now, as were the entire lower half of her body. While keeping an eye on the Odyssey, she worked to remove her boots and rolled up the pants from her injured leg. She could see the wound eventually and worked to clear her mind.
Regenerating always took a lot from her. It took a lot physically and mentally from her, but she could get it done. Groans slipped from her lips as she could feel her skin, muscles, and even veins being to stitch themselves together. A scar was all that was left in the place of the stab wound. The woman rested against the large piece of wood behind her and watched through blackening vision as both men were thrown through the car, and jumped back in with fervor.
That was the image that she passed out to. That was the last thing in the real world that she saw. She was not sure how much time had passed between her passing out, and when she woke up. But she immediately recognized that she was not where she was before. There were stone walls all around her, and she was lying down on a bed. Before sitting up, she looked and could see Logan with a bottle of liquor to her right.
Voices were muffled all around her. She could not pin point a specific one, but something felt off. Like someone or something was there, and how that was supposed to make her feel, she did not know. Groaning, she sat up and caught the attention of everyone else that was talking. One person much more than anyone else. A familiar drawl called out her name, and her body filled with dread. Footsteps came closer, and the muffs came off from her ear.
“Cher, that you?” Her heart sped up and it felt like it was beating out of her chest. A hand came to her shoulder, but she was not having whatever weird illusion this was. Grabbing whoever’s wrist this was, she used her body weight and center of gravity to pivot the person onto their back on the floor beside the bed she was on.
Staring down, her heart stopped. This was her beau. Remy was staring up at her with wide eyes. Letting out a shaking breath, her hands let go of the man as if he had burned her and stood upon shaking legs. The man on the ground was not doing much better than her. He stood just as quickly, and looked at the woman just the same.
“Oh, thank you Lord. It is you.” He whispered, taking a step closer. But her hand shot up to stop him from getting closer.
“Don’t. Who the hell are you? And what are you doing with that suit on?” She demanded, and watched the confusion sink in.
“Cher, it’s me. It’s your Gambit. I’m jus’ wonderin’ how in da hell you here now.” Remy breathed.
“Oh my god!” Everyone’s attention was brought to Deadpool who was wide eyed in his mask. “This is your tragic backstory. You and him…”
“I need some air.” She turned on her heels, and phased through her wall till she was outside in the forest. Outside, she tried to draw in a deep breath, but found her body starting to seize. Everything got too much. Shaky limbs and sweaty palms found themselves crashing onto the forest floor. She tried to breathe in again but only managed half a breath. Her heart was beating out of her chest. The world began to spin.
“Ay, ay, you alright, cher. Come ‘ere. Let’s settle on down now, ya.” Thick arms encompassed her. They grounded her back to reality. As Remy kept whispering soothing words, she felt her world come back into focus. Her heart slowed down and was now moving at a steady rhythm. She was following Remy’s lead on her breaths; in through the nose for four, hold for four, out for four. Her arms and legs were soothing themselves out and she was able to wipe off her palms onto the legs of her suit.
“Dat’s a good girl, now. Ain’t no reason to be like dat. Just a little frightenin’ is all. Didn’ mean to.” He was apologizing for scaring her? After she had thrown him to the ground and walked out on everyone? Those arms felt so familiar and comforting; she did not want to move rom them. But she had to face this man. She had to know. Turning, her eyes finally came up close and personal with the man that had introduced himself as Gambit, Remy LeBeau.
“You good now, cher? Feelin’ a little bettah?” Even after all of this, he was still so caring.
“Yeah. How are you alive?” She whispered, tracing her eyes over every inch of his face like this was the last time she was going to see it. Because it just might.
“I been wonderin’ da same thing. Don’t know how long I been in dis here Void, but you was gone long before I got here.” One of his hands came up and pet her head so very softly.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?” Her attempt at a joke made the Cajun chuckle as well. Sure, both of their laughs were tinged with sadness, but they were laughing together again.
“Well, I uh-” he stammered, trying to find the right words, “was out playin’ cards. Got a feelin’ dat somethin’ was wrong. Went back to the apartment we was stayin’ in. And you… you were gone when I got there. Tracked down who had killed ya, and it turned out to be my ol’ thievin’ ring. Didn’ like da fact dat we was ‘bout to get outta da game apparently. Da hardest thing Remy ever done was buryin’ you. Easiest was killin’ da sons o’ bitches dat took you from me.”
Silence enveloped them as the weight of his words sunk in.
“Something very similar happened in my timeline.” She replied, watching as he seemed to going through the same emotions she was.
“We were on our way back from a mission for Xavier. You and I were with Jean, Scott, and Storm. God, she was making so many jokes about how she was the fifth wheel on that mission and we were making it worse for her. Anyways, we got ambushed by the Brotherhood. We were actually taking out a good chunk of them, but Sabertooth got the drop on you. You bled out in my arms on the way back to the mansion. You had me promise not to do anything rash in the aftermath, but it was difficult.”
Tears welled in both of their eyes. Both of them mourning a love and life lost in tragic fashion. Remy pulled her in close, and she breathed in deeply. That familiar leather and musk scent blended with the fresh air outside. She just wanted that scent bottled up and kept with her at all times.
“So it seems to ol’ Gambit dat we both lost our other half. Maybe you was supposed to be the one that completed my deck, cher.” Her head raised and her eyebrow as she turned to look at the man in confusion.
“You’ve got an incomplete deck,” came her question. She began feeling around for a pocket in her jacket that was directly over her heart.
“Jus’ missin’ one card. Whatchu lookin’ for?” He questioned, letting her move around freely.
“Get your deck out,” his eyebrows raised. “Your card deck, Gambit. Humor me.”
“Whatevea you say, cher.”
The duo shifted until their respective items were grabbed. Remy produced a deck of cards and quickly rearranged them to be in card order. Her card was in between her first two fingers. As Gambit sifted through his deck, he stopped right where a card was missing. And as she revealed what was in her hands, the two suddenly looked at each other with love and tears. Her ace of hearts was missing from his deck, but he had finally found it again. It was a different time, different place, even a different person, but it was the same love that spanned the multiverse.
Can I request suggestive headcanons for Remy, Logan, Wade, and poly Logan & Wade reacting to his shy gn s/o immediately covering their eyes while apologising profusely because they accidentally saw him half-naked because he was changing clothes please?
* Okay, so keep in mind that this man has been alive for more than 200 years. He’s seen a lot. He’s done a lot. There is not much else that can surprise him in terms of learning new things
* However… You can still surprise him
* I completely see him as a man that would just casually steamroll past the fact that you were only in your undergarments. He’s not phased, nor does he care.
* Logan will definitely take the time to ogle if he gets the chance, but he’s aware there is a time and place for that.
* “Hey, we were out of beer so I took the truck to go get some… oh shit.” And with that, he was speechless. Logan’s eyes would trail up and down your figure, even though part of it was obscured by the tshirt that was pressed against your body
* Silently, he would stalk closer and closer to you, never once taking his eyes off of you. His hands would gently pull the shirt away so he could get a better look. Feather light touches would cascade themselves down your arms, and chest; all the while his eyes would drink it up
* Picking you up, he walked over to the bed while holding you and pressing his nose into the crook of your neck
* “What about the beer?”
* “Forget the beer.”
Wade Wilson/Deadpool
* Oh, the beloved merc with the mouth. How do I say this gently? He will both make you love and hate him walking on you. It all started because he had gotten you a new suit that he wanted you to wear.
* Wade had begged and begged you to wear it, but there was no appropriate timing to do so. It had gotten to the point that he had accepted that you weren’t going to wear it. But when you finally had been worn down enough, he got super giddy at the prospect of you wearing it. But you had taken too long in his mind which prompted him to take matters into his own hands.
* “What’s taking you so long, angel cakes? Oh, hello.”
* “Wade! Get out!”
* Throwing things does not deter this man, oh no, my friend. For when he gets a glimpse of you, half undressed with the suit on the bed, he’s gonna need his special sock. Wade is frozen in a state of bliss and was unable to move himself. Not until you forcibly pushed him out, and shut the door on him. When you had finally put the suit on and came out to show him, he was still unable to form complete sentences or even words at you.
* Safe to say, you had finally silenced “the mouth”
Remy LeBeau/Gambit
* Ah, Le Diable Blanc. See, I know, you want me to come on here and talk about how big of a flirt Remy is. But no! That boy is a southerner, and southern men are raised to be gentlemen. I truly, in my heart of hearts believe, that if Remy caught you changing, he would blush and book it out of there.
* Hear me out! Just, imagine it, okay…
* It’s late and Remy hasn’t come home from his night out playing cards. The hour was nearing one in the morning, when you finally decide to call it a night, but you’re unable to fall asleep quite yet. Fearing that you’ll have to spend another night watching horrible late night reruns in the motel, you began changing into one of his tshirts to sleep in when you heard the door open. Struggling to get the shirt over your head to have some sort of coverage, you weren’t quite fast enough.
* “Ooh, I tell you cher, it was a goo- oh lord have mercy.”
* And like that, the door was shut again. Maybe you let out a squeak, maybe a gasp. But either way, your ragin’ Cajun was outside the room, breathing heavily and holding it shut. After a few minutes, he pressed his ear to the door to hear inside.
* “Cher, you dressed yet?”
* “Yeah. You can come in.”
* When he does, you’re already under the covers with the remote to the tv next to you, looking at the door. Gambit just grabbed his change of clothes that didn’t smell like sweat, alcohol, and smoke, and went to change in the bathroom. When he came out, he assumed his place with you in bed. On his back with you tucked into his side.
* Although, the only mention he ever gave, was a whisper of, “You look real pretty under all that, cher. Like an angel sent straight to save ol’ Gambit.”
Poly! Wolverine and Deadpool
* Prepare for trouble and make it double! Two lovers with a regenerative healing factor that makes snarky comments? Sign me up!
* This is definitely happening after a morning food run. You’re living with them, and Mary Puppins, and Blind Al, and Wade decided that today was the day for donuts and good coffee. Logan was thoughtful enough to leave a note on his side of the bed stating where they were going and that they would be back.
* This left you and the dog to get ready for the day by yourselves. After a lengthy shower that you didn’t have to share, you had made your way into the room to get some fashion advice from the sweet little pupper.
* “Okay girl. Do we go with the yellow dress, or the red dress today?”
* There was a noise, and two men bumbled into the room.
* “Avert your eyes, sweet summer child. But you should just forgo the dress. And the under garments while you’re at it.”
* “Can you go five minutes without something becoming sexual?”
* Wade gave an mhm while shaking his head, and turned back to his partner. Logan had to do a double take at your state, but there was appreciation in his eyes.
* “Can you two give us girls some privacy?”
* Logan had to drag his counter part out of there even though he managed to break free from the mutant’s hold on a number of occasions. As he left, the Wolverine sent an affirmative grunt and nod towards the red dress in your hands.
Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Death and Dark Topics, Slight Adult Themes (Making Out)
Word Count: 2,123
Main Masterlist: Here
Horror Masterlist: Here
Summary: During a party that his father had dragged him to, Victor meets someone who is just as fascinated with death as he, who might also be the key to life.
Consider Donating: Here
“Don’t embarrass my name.”
That was what his father told him as their carriage pulled in front of a spacious estate. He was just a mere boy of thirteen, but young Baronet Victor Frankenstein nervously smoothed his wild black curls. Appearances were everything.
His mother reached across the carriage, tucking his hair back herself. How she was able to tame the unruly mop on his head, he never did quite figure out. It was a secret he had hoped to find one day.
“Yes, father.”
Baron Frankenstein let out a huff, stepping out into the cold winter’s night of Moscow. Normally, they would not be this far from home. Yet, the older surgeon had helped the countess of an important family, and such, invited him as the guest of honor at a party they threw to celebrate her miraculous recovery.
A chill shot through Victor as he stepped out onto the snow covered ground. Vast stairs leading up to what could only be described as a palace reminded him of his own home back in Vienna. He knew he was introduced to the Count and Countess they were the guests of, yet, for the life of him, Victor could not remember anything about it.
When his brain finally started paying attention, Victor felt his heart skip a beat. Arrhythmia; that was what he tells himself. Nothing more. It certainly had nothing to do with the young countess of the hosting family making her way down to the dance floor.
Her hair was pinned back which allowed the elegant curls to fall down her back away from her face. She wore a dress of royal blue, speckled with faint threads of silver all throughout. A small tiara , a kokoshink, if Victor was remembering the term correctly, was beaded with pearls and silver hardware.
In short; she looked like an angel made flesh.
Their parents introduced them to each other. She was the same age as he, yet much quieter. Not in a meek way either. Like she was observing every detail, finding secrets behind locked doors, and stone walls by a mere glance. And he found her absolutely captivating.
She said nothing as they danced, which was expected of them. Both sets of parents were watching from the sidelines of the as the young pair spun around the dance floor. Victor kept his hands in the utmost respectable places, never wanting to disappoint his father.
Just as soon as their dance had begun, the band finished the song. Then she was curtsying towards the Baronet, and exiting the floor. When he came over to his father, he saw the look on his face. It just screamed, “what did you do?”
“May I inquire, where did your daughter retire to?” Victor asked the Count and Countess politely.
“The library,” the Countess replied, as disappointment came across the face of the Count. “She just loves to read. It was her birthday recently, and all she asked was for the ability to retire to her little nook so long as she makes an appearance for the duration of a dance.”
“I believe Victor would do the same if he could,” his maman chuckled, placing a hand on her son’s shoulder.
“Would you like to join her? I’m sure she might like the company.” The Countess smiled at the boy, waving over a servant.
Before he could agree or protest, Victor was being led through the crowd of people, maneuvering through ball gowns and around trays carried by waiters. The further he was from the music, noise, and cacophony, the more he could relax. He did his best work alone; it made sense that he would prefer the calmer moments of a party.
Two more servants stood by the entrance to the library, vast oak doors decorated with swirling vines of red and blue flowers. He admired the craftsmanship, the details that you would only catch after seeing it everyday for years, though he yearned for the secrets to reveal themselves to him. Victor allowed the servants to open the doors for him, as he stepped inside.
Tucked in a nook, that same royal blue gown spilled over cushions, draping like a stream in the corner. The light of the fire caught the silver again, making it appear gold. She had her nose in a thick tome, totally unaware of his presence. At least, that was what he thought. As soon as Victor got close, she suddenly spoke, “is there something you need, baronet?”
It made his freeze. “I simply wondered where you had wandered off too, countess.”
“My personal refuge,” she replied, her eyes never once leaving the pages in her hands.
“May I intrude?” Neither spoke for a long while. Victor thought that she may not have heard him.
“Find a book you would like, but do not speak, please.” He masked the smile that threatened to break his face.
Victor found a copy of Don Quixote in the original Spanish, and sat across from her on a separate couch. It was then that he saw the collection in her hands, and it fascinated him; The Monk by Matthew Lewis.
“A curious choice of reading material for a young lady,” came his comment, hopefully hidden under his breath.
“Why should I not read of horror and monsters? Terror does not belong solely to men.” She replied, finally cutting her eyes up to meet Victor’s.
He gathered a small smile, intrigue making him push his own book, that was never opened, aside. “And what horror fascinates you, little countess?”
The young countess held his gaze, and her own lips tugged into a smirk.
“The kind that provokes uncomfortable questions about the natural order of the world, little baron.”
At that moment, he had found a worthy companion. There was something about the way she said it, that shed the smallest bit of light in the dark. Whereas his maman’s smile reminded him of the sun, her’s reminded Victor of the moon. A hidden beauty known to only a select few.
He craved it.
Victor tried to keep his eyes open, but the length of his stare caused his eyes to water. When he blinked, so did everything around him.
That vast library deep in the heart of Moscow faded into the quietness of a smaller one on the outskirts of Edinburgh. The fire still roared, the scent of pine gave way to oak and cinnamon. But what shocked him most, was his little countess.
She had grown older, and more beautiful. Her hair still fell in beautiful curls down her shoulders, with only the front part pinned. Despite society telling her that she should have her hair pinned up fully, like a proper lady who was engaged, she refused. This was how they did it in Russia, and she was not going to change that for the people of the United Kingdom.
Her dress, full and lustrous, in a soft brown that reminded him of a fawn curled up in a patch of sunlight in a glade. Delicate lacework covered her skirt, patches that she had made herself. She looked even more enchanting now, years later, than she did when they had first met.
“Victor?” The way she said his name and was able to draw him from his head intrigued him. “Are you alright?”
“Just fine, dearest. Simply thinking.” He shot out at her, resting his head in his hands to continue his gazing.
“Oh no. Victor Frankenstein thinking can only bring disaster to the hearts and minds of sensible men everywhere.” Oh, how he loved her inability to hold her tongue around him.
The dark haired man got up from the chair where he sat backwards on it, draped over the back of it to gaze at her across the room. He sauntered over, flopping down beside her where his head landed on her shoulders, and his arms came around to encircle her waist. His unruly hair, even more so than in his youth, tickled her neck while his nose began to nuzzle the underside of her jaw.
“And what are you doing, Baron Frankenstein,” she questioned, not taking her eyes off of the anatomy book in her hands.
“Nothing, future Baroness Frankenstein.” Victor continued his assault, this time kissing her neck gently. “How a woman is able to digest things better suited for a man’s eyes, I’ll never know.”
A particularly gruesome display of anatomy of the chest laid bare on the pages. The heart rendered in exquisite detail seemed to beat right off the surface of ink and parchment. Muscles pulled back to expose not only the inner workings of the body, but the purpose of each.
“If I am to understand your work better, I should consume my thoughts with those of science. Not of monsters and madness. Though, I do appreciate you giving me that collection of works from that little American writer, Poe.” She said, allowing herself a moment with her eyes closed to focus on his ministrations.
Victor, feeling the change of breath through his own chest, and her heart pick up underneath his fingertips, smirked as his kisses trailed up her face. The peppering of his lips made her turn her face into them, a soft grin across her lips. Their noses brushed against each other, simply basking in the sharing of breath. “You’re welcome, my dear.”
“Does it truly bother you,” she asked, “that I delight in tales of death and decay?”
He did not pull his face away from hers, though he did trace his eyes over it. Her features were soft, not harsh like his. It was something that Victor often spent nights comparing and contrasting because it was his excuse to continue to stare at her in the wee hours of the morning. She did not have his scholar’s brow, nor the frown lines etched into his face.
On the surface, she was pure as the driven snow. Inside her mind, which was his favorite place to be, that could not be farther from the truth.
“My life’s work dwells in darkness,” Victor began, bringing a hand up to caress her cheek. “Every aspect of my life has been touched by death, madness, and rot. Except you. You, my dearest, are the one thing pure and good about my life. Regardless of the depravity that invades your senses, you are still pure in my eyes.”
He was pleasantly surprised to see a blush starting to come across her usually stoic face.
“And I will have you know, that you taking an interest in my work like this,” Victor gestured to the book in her lap, “allows me to have much more invigorating conversations than any other lady I might have had the displeasure of being betrothed to. What they call demons inside your mind, I see an angel. And I love how our angels dance together as we have enlightened conversations.”
Warmth swelled inside her heart as she surged forward to claim his lips in her own. Victor’s hand cupped her cheek firmly, keeping her in place as he threatened to devour her through her kiss. Her anatomy book fell to the ground as both of her hands came to rest upon his shoulders.
Their lips continued to move in tandem while Victor maneuvered his lover underneath him, as he kneeled over her, reeling her onto the chaise lounge she had been occupying. Chests were heaving. Lips swelling. Hands grasping. When they broke for air, Victor beheld her.
Her hair fanned out, making it appear as if she had a halo upon her angelic being. Cheeks and lips were blood flushed, which made him smirk. And her eyes; her eyes held a sparkle that he had never seen before, nor replicated.
“For years, I have craved the knowledge of death, as opposed to life. And yet, I knew when we first met that there was no one else who could interest me more in life than death. You have bewitched me, haunting my senses when I even attempt studying.” Victor panted, using one hand to hold himself up on the couch, and placing the other on her waist.
Her hands came up from his shoulders to rest along his cheeks as the stubble of his sideburns tickled her palms. “They taught us to fear the dark, Victor— and yet here we are, finding in it the only place we were ever truly alive.”
A moment’s shuddering breath passed over him, before his lips descended upon hers once more. In his mind, in his heart— in his soul, there was no one else who could ever understand his passion for death. And how that passion meant that they were more alive than anyone else around.
Warnings: Fluff, Brief Mentions of Vampirism and Death
Word Count: 1,620
Main Masterlist: Here
Horror Masterlist: Here
Summary: The spirit of the season isn’t in the gift giving, or grand gestures. It lingers in the little moments.
Consider Donating: Here
“Paul! Would you stop and let me go now, please?” She screamed and chuckled, trying to pry the blonde vampire’s arms off of her torso.
“No, I want more loving.” Paul screamed back, keeping her close. His face smooshed into her neck, nips and kisses scattering across the skin, while she bowed in half.
Meanwhile, her other three boyfriends were watching in amusement. They were just about to turn in for the night, meaning that everyone was waiting by the bikes. David was chain smoking with a smirk as he leaned against the railing. Marko was perched like one of his beloved pigeons. A feral grin that matched his blonde counterpart. Dwayne, leaning next to David, stayed stoic, on alert, though he did dart his eyes to his partners with a silent fondness.
Their mate was continuing to squirm away from Paul, fighting to go to one of the other boys, which was just making him laugh and riling him up. Managing to slip from his arms, she stood in front of Paul, one finger raised accusingly while she struggled to catch a breath that was no longer needed.
“Hah,” came her ragged yet triumphant exclamation. It did not last long. Another body grabbed her from behind, squeezing her against Paul once more. Given the chuckle that was streamed into her ear from behind, she casted a glare to her cherub. “Marko, you traitor.”
“You’re now in a vampire sandwich, dolcezza,” Marko murmured, nuzzling his nose across her neck, navigating around her hair and clothes.
“And a delicious filling you are, babe,” Paul added. He joined the other blonde in nuzzling across her skin. They occasionally bumped into each other, alternating between baring teeth in a playful mark of territory, and giggling like teenagers at their proximity.
“You two are nuzzling me like cats.” She protested, though she made no effort to move from their grasp.
“Boys!” David barked, drawing everyone’s attention. Laddie was already loaded onto Dwayne’s bike, and Star David’s, leaving just the other three in their little vampire pile. “Bring the kitten. Let’s go.”
Pulling apart just enough, Marko and Paul, in all seriousness, played a round of rock paper scissors to decide who she would ride with. Paul threw his girlfriend over his shoulder and carried his prize off to his motorcycle with a beaming grin. And the sand tore out from underneath their tires as they raced down to the cave.
But Marko did not allow Paul to win for long. His bike swerved to flank the other. Marko reached a hand out to tug on his girlfriend’s jacket to grab her attention. With a smirk and a wink, he yanked her onto his bike that she assisted with a little jump.
“Hey!” Paul yelled over the wind, serving just a bit from the force. “Not cool, man!”
Marko stuck his tongue out like a child, and raced forward to go next to David instead. Their mate just laughed, sending a kiss back to Paul. When they stopped at the entrance to their abode, Paul sprinted over to snatch the woman up, throwing her across his shoulder again.
“I won that game fair and square, Marko!” Paul bellowed, jumping down from ledge to ledge, bouncing his girlfriend around.
On solid ground, he set her down and immediately captured her lips in his, feeling her hands tangle in his blonde curls. Someone threw on the boombox, playing Christmas tape that they had acquired the year she was turned to mark the occasion.
Hands were on her hips, pulling her from Paul. He was pouting and whining, but that quickly turned to snarling and gnashing of his teeth as he started fighting with Marko who decided to poke the bear. Or rather cat, because that was what they looked like rolling around and wrestling on the dusty floor.
“They’re like litter mates who need to be adopted by separate families, don’t you think, beloved?” Dwayne murmured in her ear, swaying them gently with her back against his chest.
“They’re something alright.” She replied, running her hands behind her to wrap behind his neck to hold him close.
A hearty chuckle, and a few kisses to her neck later, Dwayne spun her around to face him properly. “You know, they never used to fight like this before you came along.”
“So, you’re saying them being menaces is my fault,” came her tease, continuing to sway with her arms around Dwayne’s neck. While his hands migrated from her waist to hips, and back again.
“I’m saying you give them an extra spark. You do that for all of us. I just hope you know how much we love you. It’s nice having harmony, even if we didn’t know we were out of balance.” Dwayne’s words touched her undead heart, drawing their lips together without much thought.
Swaying softly, in a dance they always knew yet never learned, the two vampires pulled apart naturally. “I’m so glad I have you boys in my life, forever couldn’t have started sooner enough.”
In the midst of their dancing, Dwayne had brought them closer to David, who was leaning against the fountain, and for once, not sitting in his wheelchair. He tossed his cigarette somewhere to the floor, and put his hands over Dwayne’s on her waist. He exhaled his last puff through his nose while he just pressed his forehead to her shoulder.
“I’m gonna check on Laddie. And make sure the terror twins haven’t killed each other.” Dwayne gave her one last kiss, pressed his forehead to David’s in a silent, intimate gesture, before leaving the two of them.
Wordlessly, she turned in the bleach blonde’s arms, her hands on his chest. “You okay, big guy?”
Icy blue eyes traced over her features, taking everything in with a softness he rarely showed. “I’m glad you’re here with us. I’m glad you trusted us.”
I’m glad you trusted me, being the subtext. Despite that though guy persona, David has a difficult time taking sole credit for anything, even when he should. At least, with anything having to do with her, he wants to give the others credit for catching and keeping her attention.
“I’m glad I drank from that bottle.” Her admission in a whisper made a hand of his cup her cheek. Cool skin against cool skin, but the kiss she left on his palm stung like fire.
He brought them closer, lips against each other, and continuing their sway. It was slow, and soft, and peaceful. Perfection; unadulterated, calm, perfection. They disengaged just as slowly as they had come together. David looked over her shoulder, before giving her one final kiss to her lips, then one on her hand, and she was spun in a circle.
That landed her in Marko’s arms. The cherub faced vampire was beaming as he took her hand in his, holding her more like a waltz, but still swaying gentle to the music. “I got you back.”
“And Paul didn’t kill you!” She whispered theatrically, giggling softly while they leaned their foreheads against each other.
“Can’t kill me, dolcezza,” he whispered, pressing his lips against hers. “That would make you sad. Then he’d be sad.”
Boyfriend three of four claimed a kiss from her that night since coming down to the cave. But she was not going to complain now. She had eternity to do so; Christmas Eve was a night that she did not feel the need.
Their lips drifted from each other, and found their way back a couple of quick times before parting definitely. Marko stared at the woman in his arms, his little vampire princess. Maybe it was the season, or maybe it was just the night, or even just because he had not beheld her absolute beauty in so long, but he chose that moment to commit to memory; to worship her with his eyes.
“Why do you look at me like that?” She muttered, nosing his chin.
“Because Venus would get angry if she could see you, and I want to remember exactly as you are in case she decided to smite you.” Marko answered with a dreamy glance.
“Such a Casanova,” she chuckled, resting her head on his chest. He returned the chuckle, putting his cheek on top of her head. They swayed for a moment more, before Marko picked his head up as Paul drew closer. She still stayed down, but the boys knocked their heads together gently, like goats trying to show affection.
In a move that she still was not sure how they pulled off so smoothly, Paul was now dancing with her around the fountain. He kept the slow tempo, taking a moment to breathe. “Didn’t know you knew how to slow dance.”
“I’m a vamp of many talents, babe.” Finally picking her head up, she smiled up at the man.
“You always amaze me, Paulie. Way smarter than you let people think.” He grinned a boyish lopsided grin at her.
“Nah, babe. I just don’t correct them. But, I am glad to know that you know there are more sides to me.”
“I like seeing all your sides. Thanks for showing me.”
Four for four. He surged down, hands wrapping around her waist in a crushing hug, while his lips sucked hers into his with the same urgency. One of her hands found his slight stubbled cheek, the other found purchase in his mess of curls.
And when they all retired for the evening, boots coming off to fly up to their perch, she stayed in the middle of her boys, feeling safe and loved. She hoped that they felt even just a fraction of what she felt when she was with them.
Summary: Emily getting flowers is the talk of the office. Now, if only Penelope could figure out who they were from…
Consider Donating: Here
“Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.” Oscar Wilde
The flowers arrived on a Tuesday. Which, in the BAU, immediately made them suspicious.
They were already waiting on Emily Prentiss’s desk when she came in that morning; a clean, elegant arrangement of lilies, purple tulips, and pale pink ranunculus, understated but unmistakably intentional. No card. No return name. Just a small cream colored envelope with E. Prentiss written in neat, looping script.
Penelope Garcia spotted them from halfway across the bullpen and made a noise usually reserved for either criminal masterminds or particularly attractive baristas.
“Oh no,” she said, marching over. “No, no, no. Absolutely not.”
Emily paused mid-step. “Good morning to you too.”
“Who sent you flowers,” Penelope demanded, already crouched by Emily’s desk like she was about to dust for prints. “And why do they have handwriting that screams romantic competence?”
Emily set her bag down, glanced at the bouquet, and smiled— small, private, gone almost as soon as it appeared. “I don’t know.”
Penelope narrowed her eyes. “That’s not comforting.”
Within ten minutes, the entire team knew about the flowers. Penelope made it a project.
First stop: Derek Morgan.
She cornered him by the coffee machine, flowers’ photo pulled up on her tablet. “Okay, Mr. Charm-and-a-Smile. You’ve been known to woo. You send flowers?”
Derek looked genuinely offended. “Baby girl, if I sent Prentiss flowers, there’d be a card. And it would be flirty.”
“Hmm,” Penelope said. “That sounds like something a guilty man would say.”
Emily, passing by, did not break stride. “It wasn’t Derek.”
Derek grinned. “See? She knows my style.”
Penelope made a note anyway.
Next: Spencer Reid.
She found him in the conference room, mid rant to JJ about statistical probabilities of anonymous romantic gestures.
“Spencer,” Penelope said sweetly. “Hypothetically, if someone were secretly admiring Emily Prentiss, what would the odds be that they’d choose lilies?”
Spencer blinked. “Lilies can symbolize devotion, rebirth, or— depending on the variety— desire. Also funerals.”
Penelope frowned. “Why do flowers always have to be so emotionally complicated?”
Emily, leaning in the doorway, arched an eyebrow. “You’re overthinking it.”
“That’s literally what I do,” Spencer said, affronted.
Prentiss just nodded to Penelope, the intended recipient of the jab.
Penelope sighed. “You didn’t send them, did you?”
Spencer flushed. “No! I— I would’ve asked first. Or panicked. Or both.”
“Noted.”
Hotch was less helpful.
Penelope stood in his office doorway, arms crossed. “Sir. Flowers. Anonymous. Romantic.”
Hotch looked up from a file. “Are they interfering with work?”
“No, but they’re interfering with my peace.”
“Then it’s not a priority,” he said calmly.
Penelope gasped. “You don’t want to know who’s secretly wooing one of your senior agents?”
Hotch paused. Considered. “If it becomes a security issue, I’ll care.”
Emily, walking past again, smirked. “See? Not worried.”
Penelope muttered, “I’ll crack this myself.”
JJ and Rossi at least made it fun.
Jennifer leaned against Emily’s desk, smiling. “You look… pleased.”
Emily shrugged. “I like flowers.”
Rossi sipped his coffee, eyeing the bouquet. “No card says confidence. Or experience.”
Penelope snapped her fingers. “Thank you.”
Rossi continued, “whoever it is, they know her. They didn’t go flashy. They went thoughtful.”
Emily met his gaze, something warm flickering there. “They did.”
Penelope spun to face her. “You know, don’t you?”
Emily smiled. Said nothing. That sealed it.
The flowers kept coming all week. Different arrangements. Same handwriting. Always no name. And once, there was even a box of chocolates attached that made Emily look like a kid on Christmas morning when she got them.
By Friday, Penelope had diagrams.
“She’s either a civilian,” Penelope announced to the room, “or someone very secure. No digital trail. No workplace overlap. Feminine handwriting. Consistent taste.”
Garcia had taken over the round table room, where Derek stood, listening to her present the case like they did to try and find an unsub. Except this unsub only murdered her peace and sanity by her mere presence to which she could not discover. It was maddening.
Derek whistled. “Sounds like Prentiss has herself a mystery woman.”
Emily, reviewing a case file in the same room because she found the presentation amusing, did not look up. “Stop profiling my personal life.”
“No,” Penelope said firmly. “This is my personal case.”
The reveal came quietly. Late afternoon. Visitor badge beeped at the front desk. Penelope looked up first, and immediately elbowed Derek.
“Okay,” Derek murmured. “Now that is a woman.”
She was elegant, dressed in soft neutrals. Confident without trying. She smiled politely as she walked in.
Derek straightened. “Well hello there. Can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Emily Prentiss,” she said.
Derek’s grin widened. “Of course, beautiful. You two friends from college or something?”
Emily looked up, hearing the voices nearby. And smiled like the world had just aligned. She crossed the bullpen without hesitation, took the woman’s face in both hands, and kissed her— slow, certain, unmistakable.
The room froze. Penelope’s jaw hit the floor.
Derek blinked. “Well. Damn.”
Emily pulled back just enough to murmur, “You’re early.”
The woman smiled. “Couldn’t wait to see you at dinner after not seeing you for a week. Oh, I brought you these.”
A small gold box was pulled from her purse, and Emily’s face lit up even more. She happily tore open the foil, popping one of the gourmet chocolates in her mouth. Pressing a small kiss to the woman’s head, Emily turned, hand still resting at her lover’s waist. “Everyone— this is my girlfriend.”
Penelope screamed.
Hotch was benevolent after meeting the elusive girlfriend Emily had and let them go home early. As they packed up for the night, Penelope leaned against Emily’s desk, dazed but thrilled.
“You could’ve told me,” she said softly.
Emily smiled. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Penelope sighed dreamily. “I respect the mystery. I love the reveal.”
Emily glanced toward the elevator, where her girlfriend waited patiently. “Me too.”
“So are you going to share those chocolates because they look amazing!” Penelope gushed, staring pointedly at the golden box.
Prentiss chuckled, handing one of the confections to the eccentric woman. “PG, I’ll take you to the place in Italy where we get these one day. You would love watching them get made.”
Charles M. Schulz once observed, “all you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn’t hurt.”
Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst, Suggestive Themes, Depictions of Drugs, Alcohol, and Smoking, Brief Strong Language
Word Count:
Main Masterlist: Here
Horror Masterlist: Here
Summary: Instead of shopping, David’s girl makes her way down into the hotel with a little treat.
Consider Donating: Here
“Just come down to the cave and spend the night. Your family won’t notice.” David tried to convince her, keeping her trapped against the railing on the boardwalk with his hands on her waist.
“Davey, yes, they will. I promise, I’ll be here first thing Saturday night. And then I’m yours for the weekend.” She kissed his nose, toying with the lapels of his jacket.
And that was how, after dropping her off at her home on his bike before the sunrise, David did not see his girlfriend for two days.
Sure, he went out on Thursday with his pack to the pier without her… reluctantly. David mostly stayed by the bikes, chain smoking while looking around like that would bring her out magically. But it did not; he was just stuck pouting the entire night while his brothers, and Star, ran around, tormenting the security guards and normals.
Dwayne tried to get him to come mess with some surfer nazis. Marko wanted to pull him off to the rides. Laddie and Star just straight up disappeared somewhere. Paul offered him a joint; which was the only offer David took up.
That still left him in a miserable mood, as he realized that it was still going to be another day before he could see his girlfriend. Though he had chilled out a bit so he was miserable but placid. Friday, he was not daring to leave the cave.
David traded some band patches for a bit more of Paul’s weed as he plopped himself down on his throne, and settled in for a night of being miserable alone. Every so often he would change to regular cigarettes, however, David added wine to the mix, which meant that he was getting cross faded that he had not experienced since being alive.
What he did not know, that I will tell you now, is that even his girlfriend could not wait two days to come see her lover again. She had made her way to the boardwalk, carrying plenty of to-go plates for the pack. Coming to where the bikes were parked, confusion hit her when she did not see David’s.
“He’s sulking, princess.” Dwayne murmured into her ear, spooking the human. She narrowly missed dropping all the food in her hands as she clutched her hand to her heart.
“D, I swear to whichever god you believe, don’t scare me like that.” She gasped, leaning against the railing. “Where’s Davey?”
“At the cave, dude. Is that food?” Paul showed up with Marko in tow, who sheepishly looked towards the plates in her hands.
“What do you mean ‘at the cave’?” Rummaging the plates around, she passed one to each of the boys.
Dwayne took the ones for Star and Laddie, as well as his own. “David stayed in the hotel tonight. Just a bit of holiday blues because you weren’t here. We didn’t think you’d be here tonight.”
“Well, I figured shopping can wait. I don’t feel like getting punched over a tv today. Will, um, one of you take me to the cave please? So I can see him?”
Marko, who had been silent this entire time, wiped off his hand from where he had been chowing down on the turkey on his plate, wrapped the tinfoil back over it and passed it to Dwayne for him to keep safe from the black hole stomach that they called ‘Paul’. “Come on, bride. I’ll take you over.”
As she left, Paul, with his hands all in his food, and crumbs over his face, mumbled a quick farewell, before diving right back in. Dwayne was a bit more eloquent; he actually said words instead of vague gestures. She loaded herself onto the back of Marko’s bike, one hand holding the sole surviving plate of food, and the other wrapped around his torso, clinging to his beloved jacket.
Marko, to his credit, did not do anything too dangerous and stupid with her on the back of his motorcycle. She was still human, and David would kill him permanently if something were to happen to her in her fragile state. Besides, he rather liked the human. He did speed down the sand, but stopped short of careening them off the side of the cliff.
“Do you want help down?” He offered, giving her a hand off of his bike.
“I’ll be alright, Marko. You can head back. Thanks for the ride.” She smiled sweetly at him, waving the vampire off as she headed to the entrance. Once the human was out of sight, safely in the cave, Marko did just that. He just hoped Dwayne kept his plate safe.
The woman found her journey a little trickier than usual as she tried to head down to the abandoned hotel, as one of her hands was occupied. Somehow, she still made it in without gravely injuring herself. Hopping off the last stone that made the walkway, she landed on the dusty earth below, finding the torches not lit which added to her struggle. The only reason she found her boyfriend was because of the glowing end of whatever he was smoking.
“Go away, whichever one of you decided to come back early.” David called out, taking another drag of his joint, chasing the smoke with some wine.
“Davey, I brought food.” No sooner were the words out of her mouth was she tackled into the air. She did not know how he was able to move so fast in his inebriated state, but the giggle she released took her mind away from it.
“What are you doing here,” he questioned, face burrowed in her sweater.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and her legs around his waist as he held her up like she weighed nothing. Nuzzling into his hair, she mumbled, “didn’t wanna go shopping today. Missed you too much.”
David brought them over to light a torch and then a barrel, for her benefit, before returning them to his chair. She was placed in his lap which is when he finally pulled his face from her neck to get a good look at her. “Missed you too, kitten. How’d you get here?”
“Marko drove me,” she started, “and Dwayne said you were sulking.”
“‘M not sulking,” came his reply, his nose going straight to the crook of her neck again. It nuzzled straight into that spot, and his lips followed, that he knows makes her jello.
“Sure, you’re not.” Kissing her boyfriend’s head, she felt him relax against her, as she did as well.
“Well, if you ever let me up, I can give you food,” she said into his bleach blonde hair.
“Food?” David immediately perked up, pulling his head away from her skin.
She brought the tinfoil covered plate from behind his back to sit between them. Leaning back to create some space, David’s hands stayed on her lower back to keep her close. Taking off the covering, he took in a deep whiff of the food.
Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and vegetables. And for dessert, a giant cinnamon roll that took up a quarter of the plate. Even in his haze, he looked up at her like she hung the moon and stars.
“Thank you, kitten. You treat me too good,” he whispered. Leaning forward, David kissed her sweetly, one hand leaving her body to hold her cheek. That kiss turned hungry quickly, but she pulled away.
“You got a fork stashed here somewhere? I think food would do you some good.” She offered, about to get up, however David’s hands stopped her shortly.
He, instead, picked up a scoop of mashed potatoes, using her hands to do so, and sucked her fingers clean. “Who needs a fork?”
The human just laughed, letting her vampire eat from the plate. Occasionally, he would use his own hands to feed her. And more often, David would kiss her deeply, the plate sitting, forgotten, on the edge of the fountain.
