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The Prince

Part Five - The Hungry (ao3 // one // two // three // four)

Vampire Terzo x F!Reader

Summary: With Primo's help you and Terzo try to find a solution to save your vampire. (21500 words I know. I'm sorry.)

Tags/Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, BLOOD, horror themes, vampire violence, vampire bites, blood drinking, major character injury, vomiting, magic, SMUT, unprotected sex, and more tags on ao3

apologies and thank yous at the end 💜 xo Ghouls.

 Part Five – The Hungry

“Did you sleep well, piccolina?”

Primo’s deep voice carried from the far side of the kitchen barely audible over the rumble of thunder outside. It was somewhere between morning and afternoon, though the storm made it difficult to tell one from the other. Heavy rain pelted the stone walls of the cottage in a steady thrum in time with the howling winds. This type of scene used to be so comforting, but now watching water bead and trail down the windows just seemed to make you anxious. Sitting across the room and trying to make small talk with Primo Emeritus didn’t seem to help either. As kind and inviting as he was, he was still a complete stranger. An immortal stranger with superhuman strength you were supposed to stay far away from. Instead, he’d insisted on baking cookies for you.

Shaking your head, you jolted a little as the kettle began to scream from its spot of the stovetop. Sleep had been the furthest thing from your mind after Terzo’s spell. A full night’s rest would have been a dream, but there was no getting comfortable in this situation. How long could you be safe here in the middle of nowhere? How long would they wait this time?

“Primo, can I ask you something?” You wondered aloud, hoping the impending conversation would drown out the sound of the storm and your own thoughts.

He inclined his head, silently urging you to continue. A loose piece of his long, white-blond hair fell over the painted lines of his face as he moved; the rest was carefully tied back with a thin black ribbon. His focus remained on the pale green kettle in his hand as he transferred water into a dainty teapot at the edge of the counter. He moved with such precision, yet still maintained some impossibly delicate grace—the opposite of the way Terzo carried himself. There were other differences—far more than you could count—but where Terzo’s softness was an edge blunted by time, Primo’s seemed to be gently blurred into everything he did.

A flash of lightning filled the kitchen with bright light, the bank of windows on the eastern wall providing the perfect vantage point. You shuddered as thunder followed, too close and too loud for your own comfort. The storm blew a gentle breeze through the cracked windows and the ceiling fan above dragged it further in as it spun in lazy, lopsided circles. The kitchen smelled of florals and tea and rain, feeling like a Sunday afternoon you shouldn’t have access to. Everything was a little too dreamy, made fuzzy by a filter tinged with warm yellow-green like a flashback to someone else’s nostalgic past.

Someone else’s life. 

“Why settle in this place?” you asked, vividly recalling the cracked asphalt and sun-bleached everything you’d passed on your way through town. “Why…here? The secluded cottage makes sense, but why live at the edge of some abandoned nowhere town?”

He turned to look at you for a beat before reaching for two teacups. “Well,” he started as he dropped a teabag into the pot. “It wasn’t always abandoned, piccolina.”

He set a cup in front of you before joining you at the table, a sigh leaving his lips as the wooden chair creaked beneath him. “This town…it used to full of a unique vibrance that drew me in. I suppose on some level I grew comfortable here, much like the other remaining residents. But mostly I stayed for the work. That’s what I told myself anyway. I have no doubt that Terzo would have you believe otherwise, but immortality can be incredibly mundane. When I found myself in this little town, I watched it grow from nothing just like I had done with a thousand other little towns in my lifetime. But this one—it was easier to fight that feeling of boredom here, to find a purpose. I chose to put my energy toward something, to have a common goal with the people here while I could. There’s a darling botanical garden on the edge of town, built something like seventy years ago, give or take. I helped fund the project.”

“Really? So, it had nothing to do with the cute girl that delivers your groceries?” 

Black and white paint may have covered his entire face, but you could see Primo’s ears turn bright red. “That—she—hmph. She wasn’t even born yet. Neither were you for that matter.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s not the reason you stay.”

“The garden— “

“Sure, sure,” you teased. “Work, work, work.”

“Don’t start picking up bad habits from your beau, piccolina,” he warned. “Youth is wasted on the young indeed.”

“Not if you have an eternity to do something about it.”

He laughed quietly as he poured the most delicious smelling pink tea into each cup. “I forgot how much I enjoy such a human point of view. What of you and your eternal boytoy, hmm? What will you do when this is all over?”

You shrugged, pausing to consider his words. “Haven’t really thought that far. I think…I think I’d like to do all the things I never could before. No matter what happens I can’t go back to my old life—I wouldn’t want to go back, knowing what I know now. If I have to build a new life, it might as well be a better one than before. And if that sounds good to Terzo, then I’m happy to try building it together.”

“Hmm,” he replied with a thoughtful nod and faint smile playing on his lips.

“Belleza, I am happy to build you anything you want. But boytoy? Is that really what you’ve settled on, fratello?” Terzo grumbled as he appeared in the doorway, half-asleep with pillow marks on his face. He dropped into the seat next to you with a heavy sigh and rested his head on your shoulder. “Is that really all I am to you?”

“No. Sometimes you’re more of manbaby,” you replied and kissed the top of his head. “It’s ok though.”

“Ugh, I am so glad you two are getting along,” he teased sarcastically. “You are a bad influence on her, Primo.”

“Me? What did I do?” Primo mused as he took a sip of tea.

“You encourage her—”

“Ah.”

“—to be mean to me,” he whined. “What happened to that wide-eyed naïve girl from before, hmm?”

“I have no idea who you are talking about,” you responded flatly.

“Ah, yes. What happened to the fierce and terrifying woman who pretended not to be watching me sleep every night?”

“She met an unbelievably arrogant vampire.”

He sat up and shot you a big, toothy grin. “Oh, bellezza, was I your first?”

Primo groaned loudly and pushed away from the table. “Whatever you’re trying to do fratellino, do not do it in my kitchen.”

“Ah, calm down old man. I’m only teasing.”

“You were the one I liked enough to save. Even with your baking skills.”

Primo nearly spat out his tea. “Oh, Terzo, tell me you didn’t.”

“I was trying to do something nice for you, bellezza. But fine, fine. Let’s all pick on Terzo!” he grumbled as he stood. For a split-second the life left his eyes, the light within him dimming like a flickering lightbulb in a haunted basement. He was completely blank—jaw slack and body limp. Primo crossed the room before you could even think to react, rushing over to keep his brother’s body from collapsing to the floor. Terzo recovered just as quickly, coming back to himself as he stumbled slightly. He wrenched himself out of his brother’s hold and glared at him, teeth gritted.

“Fratellino—"

“Don’t,” he hissed. “I am fine, Primo.”

“Clearly you are not. How many more times has this happened?” Primo asked, looking back and forth between the two of you.

You crossed your arms over your chest and raised an eyebrow. It had been a few days since the incident in the bedroom and—as far as you knew—he had been completely fine ever since. If he’d started having spells again, this was the first you were hearing of it despite the promise he’d made. “Terzo?”

He shifted from one foot to the other, face washed with guilt as he concentrated on the floor and shrugged. “It… it’s happened a few more times now.”

“A few? What the hell, Terzo?”

“It was only for a couple seconds, bellezza! It wasn’t like the other times!”

“That’s not the point!”

“She is right, fratellino,” Primo agreed gravely. “You should have told me this was still happening.”

“Oh, do I need to report every detail of my life to you now? Would you like to know exactly what we did last night?”

Primo’s teacup flew from his hands and hit the sink, bursting into dozens of porcelain shards. He was so angry he was shaking; his white eye seemed to glow with his fury as his face darkened. You and Terzo jumped as he began to shout. “Satanas, Terzo you are still so stubborn!”

“Bellezza,” Terzo started quietly, moving between you and Primo. He placed a hand on your cheek and lowered his voice. “Would you please excuse us for a moment?”

You nodded silently, searching his eyes for any sign of worry as he urged you to go. You’d barely made it a few steps out of the room before the argument properly started. As you moved through the cottage their voices turned from hushed tones to an almost violent sounding shouting match. The escalation had them rapidly switching between languages to find the right words to fit their ire. None of it made much sense to you, so you let the bedroom door close behind you with a soft click.

No matter what you and Terzo had tried, the little bedroom still carried a faint smell of dust and disuse. The humidity had been so bad that leaving the windows open was hardly an option. At night when the heat broke the sounds of insects droning in the woods was so loud you could hardly think. By the time the storm rolled in, you’d given up completely on trying to air out the room.

You collapsed on the creaky old bed, balling the ancient quilt in your fists. It was still happening. Whatever they’d done to Terzo, whatever poison they’d created this time was still living within him. Things were already complicated enough, but if Terzo was still effected after this many days you knew it would only get worse. If he was hiding it from you, maybe they already had.

A tear slipped down your cheek. You’d been through so much together in such a short time, so many fucked up situations that most people would never have to think about. In some way it made sense if he didn’t trust you yet—you understood that, especially with the way the two of you had ended up together. What you couldn’t understand was why the thought of Terzo not trusting you hurt so much. Why it felt like hot knives in your chest, the searing painful burn of unease. Maybe you hadn’t done enough to show him he could trust you. Maybe he never would. You pressed a throw pillow over your mouth to stifle your cries, endlessly embarrassed by whatever this fucking feeling was.

A soft, barely audible knock on the door signaled the end of the Emeritus screaming match. Terzo said your name from the other side, speaking so gently you knew he had heard you crying.

“Bellezza? May I come in?”

You swiped at your face, brushing away whatever stray tears were left as you called out, “is that some kind of vampire joke?”

The door opened a crack, just enough that you could see his eyebrows pull together in confusion. “We don’t—that’s not a real thing.”

“I know. It’s ok, you can come in.”

He shuffled into the room and closed the door behind him. As he reached the foot of the bed, he dropped to his knees and laid his head in your lap.

“I’m terrible at this,” he admitted quietly.

“At what?”

“Apologies…relationships…honesty.” He sighed heavily. “Vulnerability.”

“None of those things are easy, Terzo.” You ran a hand through his hair as he nuzzled his face into your leg. “I’m not good at them either.”

“You deserve better than me—”

“Don’t say that.”

“I just mean…you deserve a better me than I’ve been lately. I should have told you.”

“Do you trust me?”

He looked up and locked eyes with you. “With my eternal life, bellezza. With everything I am.”

“No more secrets, ok? I want to help you, but I can’t if you keep hiding things from me, Terzo. It…it fucking hurts.”

“I am so sorry, bellezza. So, so sorry. I will tell you everything, anything you want to know.”

-x- Four Months Later -x-

Primo’s house smelled sweet—like sugar and fresh vanilla mixed with roses flowering in a gentle breeze. But underneath the pleasant scent was a hint of copper, a warm metallic tinge that permeated absolutely everything. Your entire life was covered in blood; it coated your borrowed clothes and seeped into your bedsheets, hanging in the air like a permanent red haze. You couldn’t get away from it if you tried. The taste settled on your tongue, bitter and harsh without the sweetness of Terzo’s kiss to wash it away.

Even the gardens felt wounded, the lifeless and bare shrubs now naked against the chilly autumn wind. The surrounding woods had turned as red as everything else, a dying fire against a cold, grey sky. It was hard to stay hopeful on days like this, hard to see beyond what looked like the end of the world.

Your world, anyway.

This was not how things were supposed to go. Stillness fell over the property, stretching past the woods to blot out the stars. You sat at the end of the path, knees in the dirt as you tried to decide your next move and the world just…carried on around you. Time and nature weren’t bound by the same crushing weight that followed you day-in and day-out. They just kept moving. Kept changing.

You dug your hands into the soil, grasping for something—anything—to distract you from the tears slipping down your cheeks. You were so tired of crying. Tired of thinking and feeling and being while just fucking waiting. Waiting for months with only uncertainty and pain to keep you company during the day. Waiting and watching as your lover struggled and grew weaker. You wanted to scream, wanted to scream so loud and for so long that even the old gods were forced to watch you cough up blood. It wouldn’t help but it would be something, anything that didn’t feel like this.

Something that didn’t feel like mourning.

“Do werewolves have big teeth?” you asked him, genuinely curious. Of all the things you’d come to learn about, you still had trouble wrapping your head around your sweet elderly neighbor transforming under the full moon.

Terzo gave you a half-smile as he rolled onto his side. “Not as big as mine, bellezza,” he replied suggestively, practically purring in your ear. His hand fell to your hip, pawing at the bare skin as he nipped at your neck.

“You are the absolute worst,” you groaned, but you didn’t mean it. You never did. These moments with him—these silly little conversations shared in the afterglow with bare chests and sweaty skin—you’d give anything to keep each other here forever.

“Ah, but not five minutes ago I was the best you’d ever had, no?”

“I never said that?”

“Excuse me—"

“It’s true, but I never said it. Wouldn’t it be kind of fucked up if you were bad in bed? Like how many years have you been doing this? A couple thousand?”

“Bellezza, I am not that old,” he grumbled.

“Well, that’s a shame. I’ve been into older men lately.”

“Better only be one man.”

“Aw, Terzo are you jealous?”

“What if I was, amore?” There was hurt in his tone, a seriousness that bit into you with venomous fangs.

“Terzo—”

“I’m sorry, amore mio. I know this isn’t easy for either of us, but—”

You cut him off by covering his mouth with your hands. “You are the only man for me, Terzo Emeritus. Do I need to show you again?”

A warm hand gripped your shoulder, pulling you back to the dying garden. Primo didn’t even flinch as you flung yourself at him, tears and dirt staining the silk of his fancy robe. He’d never mention it; Primo never once asked you to stop feeling, never told you to pull yourself together or chastised you for being an embarrassment to the organization. Primo Emeritus—a man you were taught your entire life to fear above all others—only ever offered you a shoulder to cry on.

And if that wasn’t enough, he’d simply offer the other.

He held you tight, quietly humming some centuries-old forgotten lullaby as your tears ran their course. He wouldn’t speak until you were ready. He never pushed or insisted that this would pass. He just waited to hear what you had to say. It took you a long time to get used to that level of empathy, for his simple acts of compassion to not feel like ulterior motives. But eventually you realized he couldn’t fix you any more than you could stop him from being a vampire. He only wanted to help you.

“It’s not fair,” you managed between sobs. “It’s not fair.”

“No, piccolina, it isn’t fair,’ he agreed, smoothing a hand over your hair. “It’s too much for either of you. But I swore to you I would help, sì?”

You nodded numbly.

He knelt in front of you, grinding more stains into the material of his robe as he placed a hand under your chin. “I would not lie to you, piccolina. I will save Terzo. No matter the cost.”

“What do you mean the cost?” you shot back, voice trembling.

He tutted softly and patted your hand before helping you to your feet. “Nothing you need worry about, my dear.”

“Primo,” you leveled. “What are you—”

“Hush now, piccolina. Why don’t we wake the sleeping beauty? We can discuss things together later, eh?”

You nodded once, knowing the vampire would hardly take no for answer. But something still ate at you, gnawing away at whatever sense of calm you had managed until you were nothing more than an exposed nerve. No amount of Primo’s wisdom or comfort could help you with this one. 

“Could I—can I have a minute alone with him first?”

“Of course,” he replied with a kind smile. “Would you care for some coffee?”

“Yeah.” Before he could get too far you reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently. “Thank you, Primo.”

It was too small of a phrase for all those feelings, but someday you would find a proper way to tell him how much this all meant to you. For now, you hid your sniffles behind your hands and waited for the older man to disappear back inside before gathering the courage to face Terzo alone. 

Over the last few months, the little room at the back of the cottage had slowly become something like a home. Your home. A cozy space you and Terzo had carved out of Primo’s infinite kindness and filled with odd, yet beautiful things from Terzo’s past. A collection of his vintage clothing and accessories had been stashed away in a closet, pieces from another time left here to idly wait for him to return. Neither Terzo nor Primo had shared why he sought sanctuary here those years ago, but rediscovering his old treasures made him so happy you didn’t need to ask. You trusted him to tell you when he wanted to.

If he ever wanted to.

Your feet dragged over the rug, the soft fibers adding some kind of familiar constant in this new life of maybes and what ifs. With a deep breath, the scent of clove and cologne filled your lungs, a warm combination you’d grown so fond of. Some days you went as far as spritzing the cologne on your own wrist to feel closer to him while he was stuck like this.

As much as this place was home, it was also a mausoleum. A place your lover was laid to rest, spending most of his days in a state somewhere between life and death.

Terzo lay on the bed, his eyes closed and his skin dull and grey. His lips had turned a horrid shade of blue made that much worse the longer he “slept.” It never really looked like he was sleeping—his sleeping face was so much more expressive than this empty vessel version of Terzo. Primo once said it had something to do with circulation, trying to explain the line where science met magic to form their physiology. You listened, but it never made much sense to you. You didn’t need to know. All you needed was for your immortal undead boyfriend to be not dead.

No matter how hard it was, your days weren’t always spent in some lonely pit of despair. When Terzo was awake he was still the same old Terzo—effortlessly funny and charming in a way you had never expected. He seemed intent on making your life together as normal as it could be, still trying desperately to woo you with grand romantic gestures straight out of those movies he loved. Some nights you’d stay up well past an acceptable hour, just listening to him share stories from his questionable past, tales of “years ago” that could have meant 3 or 300 years. There were other nights the two of you poured through a book about the history and architecture of Meliora House, marveling at photos of the grandiose mansion in its heyday. He would have you close your eyes and pick a random page before telling about each room in incredibly vibrant detail. While you never stopped being impressed by your boyfriend’s ability to recall so many things over so many years, your heart broke for him that such a big piece of his past had been destroyed forever. How many other things had he lost to time in 900 years?

You made it your mission to create as many memories as you could in that little bedroom with him.

Sighing heavily, you climbed into bed and pressed as close to Terzo as you could. You gently brushed a few wayward hairs from his face, hating how cold his skin felt under your touch when he was stuck like this.

“Sorry I was gone so long,” you whispered, laying your head on his chest. You would’ve given anything to hear him take a breath, for him to wrap an arm around you and hold you tight and kiss you so hard your lips bruised. Sometimes you wondered if you just wished hard enough or found the right god to ask…

“I know you said you can’t hear me when you’re like this, but there’s something I really, really want to talk to you about,” you whispered. “And I’m afraid I won’t be able to when you’re awake. If you’re awake…then it’s real and you’ll hear it and you’ll know. But if I don’t say it, if I don’t tell you…what if you never get to hear me say it? What if you never know? If you never get to hear it because I was too scared to say it…well, that’s no good either. So, what do I do?” y ou asked with a laugh. “I mean, I know what you would tell me to do, but it’s just…I don’t know. I guess it really isn’t that easy, huh?”

You reached up and kissed his cheek as you considered your options. You’d traced every line and crease of the man’s face, memorized every mark and scar so thoroughly they might as well live on your own skin and it still wasn’t enough. You had watched him for so long now—before you’d ever met him—and you could still spend hours just studying someone so beautiful it made your heart hurt.

He deserved to know you looked at him the same way he looked at you.

“I love you, Terzo Emeritus,” you confessed quietly. “And I’m going to tell you to your stupid, handsome face. I will tell you every day, whether you can hear me or not because it won’t change how I feel.”

You swiped away a tear and cuddled closer to Terzo, holding him for what felt like hours. It wasn’t enough; it was never enough. As Primo knocked on the bedroom door, you buried your face in his chest to hide your emotions from the other vampire as much as you could. He’d seen you express everything from rage to grief and back already of course, but if you could spare him one more pep talk you would certainly try. As he shuffled in, the smell of strong coffee began to overwhelm the subtle hint of soap and sweat that lingered on your lover’s skin. No matter how hard you wished you could stay and get lost in him you knew it was no use.

Primo’s slippers scuffed against the hardwood, cups rattling on the same tarnished tray he carried in every evening. Ambling through the room, he set the tray aside and gave you a half-smile before producing a glass vial from his pocket. You sat up and offered your left arm, the right already bruised to hell from previous draws. You hated this part, hated that this had become so routine. You couldn’t get away from the smell of blood, but you’d grown numb to the sight of your own.

The next part was always easiest. A bandage for your arm and a regiment of supplements and vitamins to keep you healthy. Things that kept the blood strong, Primo had told you when it became clear this was headed toward an everyday occurrence. You swallowed the pills down and accepted the cup of expensive coffee the older gentleman had made for you.

The two of you had bonded so much in these shared albeit terrible moments. You doubted he would be so quick to let you into his life without the forced proximity, but Primo never seemed to be bothered by having you around. It didn’t take long for you to understand that he was a balancing act, a man on a highwire with bound hands and nerves of steel. But those feats of strength could not hide the worried, emotional side of a man several hundred years your senior. There was something in the way he had leaned into this caregiver role, something that suggested there was more to his story than what he was comfortable sharing with you. But there were times that he would share, absently recounting stories from his own past. He once told you how Terzo had become frighteningly ill as a child, somehow remembering that very same fear of his brother at death’s door though several centuries had passed. He swore to you in a moment of raw honesty that just as he had done everything in his power to save Terzo as a boy, he would not stop until he saved him again.

And he promised that Terzo never had to know how much you cried.

“Did you two have a nice talk?” he finally asked, turning away. He hunched over the tray and jabbed a spoon into the thick, noxious mixture of tea and herbs whatever else he used to bring Terzo back to life.

You shrugged, not willing to make any more confessions for the day. Instead, you ran a hand through your hair and gave a noncommittal sigh.

“You should rest, piccolina,” he warned with a sigh of his own. “What would he say?”

“He’d probably call you an old man,” you replied, wiping at fresh tears with the back of your hand. “Or he’d put on his grouchy voice and mumble the equivalent in Italian to get under your skin. What’s that thing he always says? Testa di Cazzo?”

Primo chuckled. “Yes, I suppose he would call me a dickhead. Lovingly, of course.”

You managed a small smile before the tears threatened to fall again. “I really miss him, Primo.”

“I know you do, cara. I miss him, too. Though it is nice that someone finally found a way to shut him up for a minute.”

You snorted out a laugh. “Primo!”

“Just trying to lighten the mood, piccolina.” He knelt in front of you and made sure he had your full attention before he spoke. “I will cure him,” he assured you. “I promised you, sì? And I am nothing if not a man of my word. I know finding a solution has taken more time than any of us would like, but—Bah! Let’s wake him, eh?”

You nodded and looked down at your hands. You’d bitten your nails to the quick and ripped your cuticles to shreds over the past few weeks, your body trying so hard to fight off the anxiety that threatened to swallow you. There was dirt deeply embedded under your nails from digging into the ground out of desperation. Pieces of earth still stuck on your skin like tiny reminders of your every fear. “Please don’t tell him—”

“I would never betray your confidence, piccolina. Are you ready?”

You drew a deep breath, centering yourself before giving him a firm nod. Moving to the other side of the bed, you propped up Terzo’s body as much as you could, fighting against the dead weight and stiff muscles. You slid behind him, wrapping your arms around his chest to hold him in place while Primo readied the last ingredient for that awful elixir.

The smell was terrible, an overpowering punch of rust and dirt and the potion stuck to the inside of Primo’s teacups like roofing tar. The final ingredient had to be added seconds before consumption, like the half-life of shots of fine espresso but not nearly as appetizing. Primo nodded once to make sure your hold was strong before removing the stopper from the vial.

Terzo’s eyes shot open as the smell of iron flooded the room. Wild, hungry sounds erupted from Terzo’s mouth, feral growls that only grew louder as Primo moved closer and poured your blood into the mixture. The older vampire took his brother by the jaw, forcing his mouth open enough to pour the tea down his throat.

What used to take seconds now took a full five minutes. Every day you waited longer and longer for the vampire’s rigid body to relax and fill with warmth again. When it finally did, he melted into you with a happy sigh. Smears of blood and flecks of herbs clung to the corners of his lips as they stretched into a smile.

“Amore,” he whispered dreamily. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

Primo pushed the cup into Terzo’s hand before ruffling his hair. “Drink the whole thing, Terzo.”

“I will,” he whined. He made a face as he took another drink and struggled to keep the liquid down. “Augh, happy?”

The older man said nothing as he turned and left the room.

Terzo quickly chugged the rest of the mixture before he turned and nuzzled into your chest. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

And there it was, the last thing you wanted to hear ever again. You groaned and pushed him away, climbing to your feet. Tired of having the same conversation, you slipped into the bathroom to hide the fresh tears that filled your eyes. Primo offered you an out after the fits gradually became worse. He told you that you were free to leave, that if you wanted you could go on and start living a new life. He said you didn’t owe Terzo anything, you got him this far and that was more than enough.

You’d never been more offended in your entire life.

Part of you understood it was out of kindness, that Primo didn’t want you to sit and watch Terzo “die” over and over and over. As nice as it would have been to avoid, you couldn’t help but think how panicked and hurt Terzo would be if he one day woke up without you. The thought broke your heart into a million little pieces, just like it broke you heart that there were still days like this. Days when he’d wake up ready to push you away. His misguided, half-hearted attempt to spare you from this never ever worked. Sometimes you could even joke with him about it, but today…today, with dirt from the dying garden still stuck under your fingernails you wanted nothing more than to be with him.

“Bellezza,” he whispered softly as he appeared behind you, almost panicked.  He wrapped his arms so tightly around your middle there was nowhere else to go as his lips hovered near your ear. “I’m sorry, my love, amore mio. So sorry.”

You nodded and learned against him as the walls of that tiny bathroom began to close in on you. “Terzo—”

“Forgive me, amore?” he asked, pressing a kiss into your cheek. “Please forgive me.”

You turned to face him, staring deep into his odd, beautiful eyes. It was too hard to hold onto all that sadness when he looked at you that way, when he begged you. Your request was a whisper, a desperate plea in the silence of the room for him to just kiss you. He crowded you against the wall like he had done so many times over the course of your relationship and captured you in the most devastating kiss just as you’d asked. It was easy to get lost in him like this, to forget the awful trial he was being forced through and each painful day it meant for you. To forget all of it and let him be Terzo and only Terzo. You craved the way his touch quieted your mind, a gentle reminder that he was still here—that he would still be here.

It doesn’t take long for the spark to catch—it never took long with the two of you—and before you knew it, he was on his knees in worship of you. And maybe he did worship you, but you didn’t ask. You didn’t say much other than “please” and “more” as his fingers traced over every inch of your skin, committing you to memory on that bathroom floor.

It was slow and soft and you think Terzo Emeritus might be the only person who could ever fuck you against a wall and still call it “making love.” But you know that’s what he’d say because that’s what it is for both of you. You couldn’t stop yourself as he dragged his sharpened teeth across your collarbone and looked at you through heavy-lidded eyes, so blissed out and alive. It escaped you like so many of the tears you had tried so hard to hide from him and it hung over your heads as Terzo stared back at you, unblinking.

“What did you say, bellezza?” he asked, eyes wide and hips still.

You brought your hands to his face, holding him there. “I said I love you, Terzo,” you repeated, though you could hardly believe you’d said it yourself. “I love you.”

“M-me?”

“Yeah, you.”

“Oh, bellezza.” His mouth crashed against yours, clumsy and hungry as he tried to kiss you a thousand times all at once. “Love you,” he managed to say between breaths, directing most of his concentration toward carefully laying you on the floor. “I love you,” he repeated as he repositioned himself over you and slowly slid his cock back into your heat.  “I love you…and you love me.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you warned.

“Too late for that, amore mio. You’re there forever now.” He grinned down at you and pointed at his chest. “And here too.”

“Ugh,” you groaned, rolling your eyes. “You’re such a fucking sap.”

“Sì, but you love me.” He made a point of circling his hips to watch you writhe and keen under him, smiling the entire time.

“Terzo, please.”

“Anything for you my love,” he whispered into your ear before changing his angle and beginning to fuck you in earnest. As he drove each thrust home, you could see stars in your vision. That white-hot passion that had always burned between you was a flare, a lifeline you could follow back to safety, to someone who loved you. To someone you loved.

He held you close as you came, his fingers digging into your hips as your own clawed at his back. He followed soon after with his face buried into your neck, his breath almost instantly cooling your heated skin. He stayed between your legs, lazily mouthing at your collarbone as you both came down from the high, completely addicted to each other.

“I’m so sorry, bellezza. Please, please forgive me,” he begged once more, finally resting his head on your chest. His hair fanned out, sticking in odd patterns to the sweat on your skin as he lay claim to you once more.

“I already have,” you admitted softly, carding a hand through his messy hair. “Shower?”

He nodded. “In a minute.”

You granted him as much peace as you could on the patterned tiles of the bathroom, silently lying with him and holding him close until he was ready to start the day—though it had to be close to midnight by then. Things seemed to move slower in Primo’s house, as though time itself had its claws in the two of you. Even tiny gestures like Terzo’s fascination with washing your hair could never be rushed no matter how much shampoo he managed to get in your eyes.

You were the same way, of course. Taking care to steady your hand before tracing the angles on his face in that black paint. It was no small task, especially not after he explained the meaning behind it. Every time he would tease you about the serious expression you wore while trying to even out the lines on his nose, taking this delicate, intimate part of his life and making it into some silly game. And you let him, finding yourself unable to stop doing anything that made him smile. Even if that meant you were now in charge of buttoning his shirts for him half the time.

Part of you missed those ridiculous crop tops.

-x-

Terzo settled his hip against the counter, watching closely as you moved through the next part of your routine. Preparing his midnight “breakfast” fell on you as Primo very quickly forbid him from using any of the appliances, some unspoken memory of a culinary disaster shared between them with a knowing look. Carefully, you poured the contents of a blood bag into the mug that previously held your coffee. Try as you might, you could never get Terzo to explain why he liked sharing your cup, he simply asked that you did. It was one of his more reasonable requests.

With the cup in the microwave, the two of you watched the faded design slowly spin in the ancient wood-paneled machine. What once read “Everything’s better in” some town was barely legible after at least a decade’s worth of runs through the dishwasher. The cottage was full of things like that—old and yellowing, well loved, but still functional. You cracked a smile, thinking about how similar your 900 year old vampire boyfriend and a microwave from the 1980’s could be.

“What’s so funny, hmm?” he mused and pulled you into his arms.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing, huh?” He squeezed your sides, tickling you until you let out a high pitched squeal.

“Stop,” you managed through a giggle. “You wouldn’t like the joke anyway.”

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but the ungodly howl of the microwave timer cut off anything he was about to say. He reached for the cup and took a long pull, savoring the rich taste of A Positive with his eyes closed. A pleased hum rumbled in his throat as he tried to lick away the leftover traces, but a deep red line formed above his upper lip.

You smiled and let your eyes trail over every little line and soft ridge buried under the paint. Such fine details were only visible up close when he was painted, but you liked the way they added a softness to the harsh angles. You reached over and swiped your thumb across his lip to wipe away the blood mustache.

“You know I’m not going anywhere, right?”

Terzo stared back at you wide-eyed. After a beat he nodded and lowered his gaze, staring into his substitute meal with a hint of shame.

“I know, bellezza,” he offered quietly. “I’m sorry. I just—sometimes I can’t understand why you would stay with me.”

“Yeah, well. If you have to ask, you’re dumber than you look.”

“How dumb do I look?” he shot back, deeply concerned.

“Oh, bello.” You pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “You don’t look dumb. At all.”

He beamed at you. “Bello?”

“Sì, bello. Bellisimo, even.”

“I love you, bellezza, but your pronunciation is terrible.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you groaned. “Testa di Cazzo.”

“Such a dirty mouth,” he tsked.

“Said the vampire with a blood mustache.”

“Straws are bad for the turtles, bellezza,” he informed you, his mouth set in a deep frown. “I saw it on the news.”

“Ha! I’d believe you could fly before I believe you watched the news.”

He sighed. “Ok, fine. It’s something I heard Omega say once.”

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. He was so warm after he ate that you couldn’t help but relax against him. “Do you think Omega and Alpha are enjoying their extended vacation?”

“I doubt they’ve ever been happier. They’ve asked for a swimming pool for Christmas for the last, oh, thirty years?”

“Do you even celebrate Christmas?”

“No! Which makes it that much more irritating when they ask—"

“Hate to interrupt,” Primo chimed in as he appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Feel free not to then,” Terzo shot back with a wave of his hand. “We’re busy.”

“Apologies fratellino but it cannot be helped. There is something we need to discuss.”

“No,” he replied with a frown. “No ‘discussions’, no tests, no nothing. Not today, Primo. Please?”

It was Primo’s turn to frown, deep creases forming between his eyes and around his mouth. He looked older somehow, more wrinkled and tired than he had a few hours ago. His body appeared almost frail, like a distorted reflection of the way Terzo had become brighter and livelier.

“Primo, are you ok?” you asked gently.

“Always, piccolina,” he replied dismissively. “Now, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. Could you two join me in the lab?”

Terzo sighed heavily and knocked back the rest of his breakfast in one gulp. “Do we have a choice?”

“No,” Primo responded simply.

Together you quietly made your way through the back of the house and down the set of stone steps that marked the boundary of the original cottage. A large glass conservatory stretched across the back of the property; an addition made sometime later where Primo spent most of his time these days. The air in the structure was sticky and humid, heavy with the heat of the day still trapped between the thick panes.

You settled on the small sofa hidden amongst the massive leaves, the pollen from the fresh blooms making your nose itch as you looked around Primo’s makeshift laboratory. A worktable that should have been used for flower arrangements and propagation was covered in countless glass flasks filled with odd concoctions and a colorful assortment of potions. Some bubbled under the heat of an open flame, while others slowly dripped into a new container like moonshine being distilled in some prohibition hideout. Each mixture had been crafted by hand while Primo consulted some dusty old tome, working tirelessly to keep his brother alive. You weren’t sure if it was basic chemistry or some magical alchemy the old vampire had his hands in, neither would really surprise you.

“What is it you want now?” Terzo asked, clearly annoyed by Primo’s insistence. “More blood?”

“No, fratellino. You should sit down.”

He looked nervous, hands trembling slightly as he sat and sank into the sofa. It wasn’t an expression you were used to seeing on the carefree vampire’s face, even when things had been at their worst. Something in Primo’s tone scared him, which only made you frightened in turn. You slipped your hand into his, fingers intertwining in a silent reminder that you were there with him. That you loved him.

The exposed skin of his hands glowed with warmth—with life. You were glad to see him feeling better. Looking better. But Primo’s solemn expression cast a dark cloud over everything in the room. Whatever he had found, whatever he needed to say didn’t look good.

“Fratellino, how do you feel?”

“Better than you look,” he replied in a suspicious tone. “Why do you ask?”

Primo pinched the bridge of his nose. “Terzo…this isn’t easy—”

“You can’t fix it,” he whispered.

“No, Terzo that’s not—” he rushed. He paused with a sigh, searching for the right words. “What’s happening to you—the poison is…complex. It took a great deal of time to break it down and discover all the components—to understand why our temporary solution treats the effects, but hasn’t made any improvements toward ridding your body of this thing—"

“You’re blaming my body for this?”

“Of course not. Will you let me finish?” He snapped harshly.

 “Fine,” Terzo huffed and crossed his arms over his chest as he pushed further into the sofa.

“Mi dispiace, mostriciattolo,” Primo replied quietly. “My temper is harder to control right now.”

You felt him tense beside you as he cautiously looked up at his brother.

“You…you haven’t called me that in at least 100 years,” he noted in a whisper.

“Fratellino, do you remember what I told you when you were young?”

Terzo nodded once and wiped away a single tear with the back of his hand. Another memory shared wordlessly between two almost ancient men. “What does that have to do with this?”

“Our enemies underestimate us,” Primo replied grimly. “They think I won’t do what needs to be done. That I—have never faced such a harrowing challenge in all my lifetimes. Surely that is the only way to survive this long, sì? Fear in the form of self-preservation. That I would choose my life over yours.”

“What are you saying, Primo?”

Primo shrugged. “The thing that binds us to each other, the thing we need to survive—they underestimate its power too. I would die to save you, Terzo. I would do it all over again without question. And that makes our family different. It is how we are bound that gives us power.” He paused to look at you. “How we can be bound to another. Our blood possesses properties humans have never dreamed of. The trouble is it will take a great deal of our blood to fix yours.”

“Like how much?” you asked nervously.

Primo didn’t answer, instead he lifted a hand to silence you as his eyes darted around the room. The faintest noise came from outside, barely more than a rustling in the grass just outside the conservatory’s walls. Both men were immediately on edge, their fangs bared in warning as something—someone—moved around the building.

“Stay here,” Primo commanded firmly before making his way toward the door.

Terzo moved so quickly it felt like missing frames in a sequence, your brain struggling to process his actions. He pressed a knife into your hand, swiped from somewhere on Primo’s table. You stared at the thing, blinking slowly until the realization hit you. Danger. Someone had finally come for your vampire.

Silently, you eased behind Terzo and prepared to strike at whatever—whoever—might present itself. You held your breath, straining to hear anything while Primo moved through the side door, his long, white hair disappearing into the darkness.

A feeling crept down your spine—forgotten yet so familiar—winding your nerves tighter and tighter like a loaded spring trap. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, dialing your senses to eleven as you scouted the room. Your pulse raced uncomfortably as the chemical tried to take over your body and mind, every cell screaming for you to fight. To run. You’d spent most of your life training yourself not to be afraid, but that was easier said when the only thing to lose was your own life. But now, with Terzo—with the man you loved—standing before you, that sense was heightened.

There was a desire to throw yourself in front of the vampire—to protect him. No matter what it might cost you.

A shadow formed in the doorway, a large and imposing figure looming in the dark. You readied yourself as it stepped forward, prepared to fight off whoever had come for you. Light hit the solid form and the familiar image of harsh black and white paint in a shape you didn’t recognize became clearer. The man leaned forward, squinting as he scanned the room.

Terzo let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he called out, “Secondo?”

You felt your heart stop as Secondo Emeritus focused solely on you. With each determined step he ignored Terzo’s shouting and shoved him hard as he passed. He crashed into the sofa, the frame completely shattering from the impact and the sharp snap of solid wood bursting into pieces became the soundtrack to your false sense of security coming to an abrupt end.

Secondo had a hand around your throat before you could move—before you could think. He squeezed hard, cutting off your air as he dragged you across the room. Tears welled in your eyes as you helplessly kicked and tried to free yourself. But it was useless. He was strong, too strong. It took no effort for him to haul you up and pin you to the wall.

He stared you down, teeth gritted and eyes filled with malice. “Tell me why I shouldn’t just snap your neck right now, little hunter,” he ground out, fangs flashing with each pointed word.

Fear and pain surged through you, swirling its way around the adrenaline already poisoning your blood. Your lungs burned, screaming for you to take a breath as his fingers flexed and threatened to crush your windpipe. Years of training flashed in your head, every weakness and warning you’d ever heard. What good was any of it now that you were actually faced with an Emeritus vampire?

Maybe, maybe you deserved to die at the hands of a vampire, but you weren’t ready to find out.

You reached out and slashed at him with the knife. The blade easily sliced through the fancy material of his suit and into the soft flesh of his forearm. Again and again you cut into him, but he still wouldn’t let go. With a growl, Secondo wrenched the knife from your hand and stabbed it into the wall a hair’s width from your head. The placement was no accident. It was a calculated move to let you know that Secondo was going to kill you slowly and without mercy.

In one last desperate attempt you jammed your fingers into the wounds you carved, hoping it would break his hold. A warm rush of blood oozed around your fingers, but the vampire didn’t even flinch.

A choking sound escaped your mouth as you fought for each breath, tears streaming down your face. “Ter—"

There was a blur of movement followed by a sickening snap and you hit the floor hard. You grabbed your neck, sucking down desperate breaths as soon as you realized you were free. But how?

Secondo clumsily stumbled backward in surprise; his arm now bent at grotesque angle. Bone and sinew poked through his shredded sleeve as blood dripped onto the conservatory’s stone floor. With a great howl of pain, he pushed a protruding broken bone back into its rightful place and rounded on Terzo.

Terzo crouched in front of you, spitting and snarling like a wild animal. His teeth made a horrifying sound as he threateningly snapped his jaws at his brother. “If you ever put your hands on her again,” he growled in warning, his voice low and terrifying. “You will beg for death.”

Secondo offered him a sick smile as he stepped forward. “I would love to see you try, little brother.”

Terzo rose to his full height, squaring off with the taller man. He was almost an entire foot shorter and his slight frame made Secondo look even more muscular in comparison, but size and scale hardly mattered when it came to the strength of vampires. As old as they were, they were both powerful and possibly deadly to each other.

Secondo’s smile didn’t falter as he took another step. “Do you really think you can stop me before I get to her?”

“Would you like to find out?”

“Boys!”

Primo’s voice rang out so loud it rattled the large windows in their frames. The noise reverberated through the domed structure, bouncing around as Terzo and Secondo completely stopped in their tracks. The vampires were now frozen in their battle stances, refusing to take their eyes off one another but neither dared to move.

“I won’t tolerate you being at each other’s throats, so you might as well get over it now,” he instructed before turning to Secondo and pointing a bony finger at him. “If you touch piccolina again, you won’t be answering to Terzo.”

Secondo narrowed his eyes but otherwise stayed quiet as the warning hung between them.

You scrambled to your feet, keeping your back to the wall as you watched for the next threat. A surge of panic ripped through you as a woman in a designer outfit appeared behind Primo. She gently brushed past him with a small nod and a hand placed carefully on his arm, an ornate ring on her finger catching the light. The gems sparkled like stars in the way only real jewels could before they were hidden under the velvet sleeve of her jacket. She moved with such elegance, even as she rushed to Secondo’s side and delicately held his arm to examine his wounds. He tried to shake her off, earning himself a stern look from the smaller woman that seemed to fix him in place. He cupped her face with his non-bloodied hand, quickly mumbling an apology and something else that brought relief to her face. They exchanged a look—the kind could only exist between two people who were deeply connected or deeply in love—before he pressed his forehead to hers. Secondo’s entire being, this massive, monstrous threat, seemed to completely melt away under her touch.

Peeking out from under her collar was the faint line of a scar. You quickly realized who she must be. Reginetta, as Terzo called her, Secondo’s little queen.

What had happened to them was no secret among the hunters. Time after time you heard about how some rogue group had infiltrated his club, ransomed his assistant, and set fire to the building. How they had nearly succeeded in taking him out in the process. It was a fairy tale full of corpses and poisons, one Terzo didn’t like to discuss at all, but in your time together you had heard the other side of the story. How the hunters had tried to turn love into a weakness and forced Terzo and Secondo to watch as they stabbed his girlfriend. You knew all about how utterly helpless Terzo had felt, how it haunted and changed him from a man you suspected didn’t have a care in the world to one who carried the entire weight of it alone by the time you met.

Somewhere within the ruins of Meliora House, Terzo had also kept a couple of Lucy’s teeth.

You weren’t a part of what they’d done, but you were hardly different. Terzo was in this whole mess because of you—because you also foolishly decided to try to take out the most powerful vampire family in history. And for what? The was no glory, no noble cause. There was just some bullshit sense of victory and justice fed to you for years. You never questioned it, not even once. Not until Terzo directed his attention toward you.

There was nothing about you that was worthy of his love and yet, he gave it freely. He loved you—a pitiful, undeserving mess of a girl with blood on her hands and next to nothing to offer him.

You tried to swallow it down, to make yourself as small as possible and disappear. A wounded cry left your lips as you thought about all the damage you’d done. All that pain and heartache inflicted for centuries by hunters just like you.

He turned as you whimpered, moving faster than your eyes could follow. Holding you tight to his chest, he began to whisper a thousand apologies into your hair before you could even think to protest. You didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve him, but he was right there with you. Fighting the urge to sob, you wrapped your arms around his neck. Everything the two of you had been through, every errant feeling or emotion you’d pushed down bubbled to the surface and threatened to drown you. You were afraid. You were worried. You were annoyed and happy and loved. You were so, so loved. And you were the safest you’d ever felt—the only time you’d felt safe in your miserable little life—here in his arms. That thought—that knowledge burned brighter than any of the nasty things you could tell yourself about your former life.

Terzo loved you. He’d said it a million times and now you finally understood what it meant. And you’d fight to the death to hold onto it.

“You’ve got real shitty people skills, Twos.”

You lifted your head to search for the voice. Another couple appeared, gracefully making their way into the conservatory. Gold accents adorned their coordinating outfits, glinting in the soft light as they moved. The delicate fringe of their epaulets swayed as Count and Countess Copia gave their surroundings a once-over. Their painted faces hid their expressions, but their military dress suggested they were here for something serious. Terzo however, wasn’t nearly as stoic. As Copia took a step forward, Terzo let out low, warning growl.

“Oh, calm down, fratello,” Copia called out with a dismissive wave. “No one’s going to hurt you or the girl.”

“Honestly,” the Countess started and turned to Reginetta. “How on earth do you put up with him?”

It was Secondo’s turn to growl. “She’s a hunter,” he grinded out.

“Yeah,” the Countess laughed. “A teeny-tiny little hunter in a room full of Emeritus vampires. What exactly did you think she was going to do?”

“She can speak for herself,” you spat as you tried to untangle yourself from Terzo’s arms.

The Countess let out a deranged giggle. “Not if I snatch out your tongue—”

“You’re not going anywhere near her. None of you are going anywhere near her,” Terzo sneered.

“Oh well,” she hummed and turned her attention to Terzo. “Terzo! It’s so lovely to see you dressed like it’s this century.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Well, Sorella, I lost most of my things in a fire and had to run for my life.” He gestured toward her clothes. “What is your excuse for this?”

She flashed her fangs and hissed.

“Amore don’t tease a dying man,” Copia urged, and steering her away by the shoulders. He casually dropped onto the broken sofa, barely noticing the splintered wood at his feet. “Do you have any sort of burial ensemble in mind, fratello?”

“No, because I’m not dying,” Terzo corrected. His fingernails dug painfully into your skin as he buried a much angrier reaction.

“Are you sure? You look terrible,” Secondo teased, ignoring the pinch he received from Reginetta.

“If you’re not dying then why did Primo call us?” Copia asked. “Primo, why did you call us?”

“I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t,” Primo muttered with a groan. “Frankly, it’s embarrassing that none of you can be in the same room for more than two minutes before you start acting like children. I called because Terzo needs help, your help—”

“And not because you’re trying to show off in front of the little hunter, hmm?” Secondo challenged coolly.

“Mind your tone, fratellino,” Primo warned, accompanied by a low growl as he stepped toward his brother.

“Oh, here we go,” Copia grumbled with a roll of his eyes and leaned forward to grab a sharp, broken piece of wood. He tossed the makeshift stake at Primo and Secondo’s feet, issuing a challenge of his own. “You ever see a real vampire bloodbath, little hunter?”

“Enough!” Terzo screamed. His entire body shook with anger as he looked around the room, staring each of his brothers down. “You said we’d be safe here,” he spat at Primo. “You promised me.”

“You are safe here—”

“That stronzo grabbing bellezza by the throat is your definition of safe?” He let out an uneasy laugh as he turned to Copia. “Make your jokes, Copia. By all means, please have another laugh at my expense. But let me ask you what would you have done, hmm? What would you have done if Secondo had stormed into your fucking castle and grabbed the Countess like that? If he had threatened to take her life instead of killing a room full of people so the two of you could live happily ever after, huh?”

“Well, I—” Copia started, but Terzo angrily waved him off.

“I don’t want your fucking help,” he stated tersely. “We don’t need any help from any of you if this is how you’re going to treat us. If this is how you and Secondo plan to repay me for fighting your fucking battles I don’t need you here.”

“Terzo, hang on—” Secondo tried.

“No!” Terzo snapped. “If none of you have any interest in helping, just go back to wherever the hell you came from. Leave us in peace. Let me die in peace.”

“I’m sorry,” Secondo offered softly. The room fell completely silent as he took a few careful steps forward and placed a hand on Terzo’s shoulder. “Mi dispiace. I’m sorry, Terzo. I didn’t mean to—"

“I don’t need your apology,” Terzo grinded out and shook him off. “You owe it to her.”

You shook your head, finally finding your voice. “He was only trying to protect you, Terzo.”

He whipped around with an incredulous look. “He tried to—”

“I know,” you replied quickly, cutting him off. “But I don’t blame him for that. I don’t expect him or anyone in your family to trust me. Hell, I wouldn’t trust me. The things you’ve all been through…It doesn’t matter how much you trust me; I’ll still have to earn it from everyone else. You just need to know the only thing I care about is helping you and if that’s why they’re here—if that’s what Primo needs to fix you…” you trailed off and shook your head. “I couldn’t care less about what happens to me.”

“I care about what happens to you, cara mia,” he whispered.

You offered him a faint smile before pressing a kiss into his cheek. “I know you do.”

“Well, if that’s settled. Is anyone hungry?” Primo asked loudly.

-x-

The cottage had never felt so full of life. A kitchen full of Emeritus vampires, both new and old, were all finding their rhythm as part of the task at hand. Primo and Secondo were singing at the top of their lungs, beautifully harmonizing some old Italian love song while effortlessly crafting a meal completely from scratch. Copia had shed his military jacket in favor of a novelty “kiss the chef” apron while he hovered over a simmering pot. Every few moments he would look up to make heart-eyes at his Countess while she and Reginetta stood nearby, hard at work attacking a cake recipe.

It unfolded like a scene from one of those silly films Terzo loved, a dynamic portrayal of a family that only ever seemed to be found in the most idealistic fiction. Your family, what little there was, had never once committed such an act of togetherness. Even Terzo—who was barred from helping in any meaningful way—flitted around the kitchen refilling glasses of wine and slipping into conversations like the perfect host.

He watched you from across the crowded kitchen, wearing a look of warmth and light and pure love that felt almost tangible. Without missing a beat, he seized the opportunity to take your hand and pulled you into the eye of the storm, making sure you were also a part of the greater Emeritus chaos instead of on its fringes. Primo shot you an encouraging smile as the ladies turned to ask your opinion on attempting something called “Italian buttercream.”

Maybe it was better that your family wasn’t like this, that you had never prepared a single dish that wasn’t frozen or had any idea there was more to frosting than the stuff that came in a plastic tub. Until now, you only had a vague idea of what you were “missing out” on, pieces of that “perfect family” that never seemed real to begin with. You doubted you would have been able to appreciate it for what it was prior to this past summer anyway. But now, hearing the sounds swell around you in that small kitchen meant more to you than anything ever had—including that limited edition sweater Terzo was still hellbent on replacing.

The sense of calm extended over a dinner served around 4 a.m., but it was anything but quiet. Laughter was shared around the table just as much as the food. Copia and Primo scrambled to find their most embarrassing memories of Terzo through the ages like a mother showing off baby pictures to a prom date. Secondo remained distant, though he didn’t ignore you completely. Once Reginetta had warmed up to you, he even began to use more than one word to reply.

The extent of Terzo’s situation was revealed over a dessert eaten with tiny forks. After one too many glasses of wine seeped into everyone’s bloodstream, Primo laid out what he’d discovered to an audience of vampires stunned into silence. Terzo buried his face in his hands while Secondo angrily shot up from the table and began pacing the length of the dining room. 

Paying his brothers no mind, Primo outlined the rest of his plan. He’d found a solution, albeit a dangerous one. A mix of vampire blood, a rare plant, and a little bit of magic was all he needed, a list of ingredients you couldn’t quite comprehend. You tried your best to follow along and understand exactly what was needed to save your love, but the plan was so heavily flawed you couldn’t focus on anything but how risky the whole thing was. You weren’t as strong as the others, nor were you immortal, but you knew how to strategize and how to fight. You had an intimate knowledge of how the hunters’ network operated and everything Primo had laid out looked like walking into an obvious trap.

“So, this plant…you’re saying one of the only places to find it just so happens to be your little town’s botanical garden?” you asked. “I’m guessing this is the very same garden that you personally funded?”

“It is the same, yes.”

“I don’t like this, Primo.”

“I don’t understand,” the Countess interjected. “What’s the problem?”

“It’s too easy,” you and Secondo answered, almost in unison.

“Well yeah. But we could just kill them,” she replied with a huff. “Problem solved.”

“No, problem not solved,” Secondo growled back. “Are you even listening?”

“I agree we should kill them, dear Countess, but I must insist that we do not go charging into this. We will need every single body with a pulse that we can find, or we might not make it back from this. They will most certainly be waiting for us and they’ve had months to plan for our arrival. Hell, they’re probably watching us right now.”

“Ok but I do get to kill them, right? Like, after everything? Vampire snacks?”

“Who is going to stop you, amore?” Copia cooed, petting her face with a gloved hand.

“Bellezza,” Terzo started quietly. “Are you going to be ok with this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, isn’t it possible these hunters might be people you know?”

The other discussions in the room fell away as the vampires waited for your reply. There was a definite possibility that people you once knew wanted you dead, but they were part of another life completely. Even if you hadn’t fallen for Terzo, they tried to kill you. You didn’t know if it was direct or just collateral damage, but the point remained the same. The hunters placed no value on your life or his, or anyone else in the room for that matter. They didn’t care what happened to any of you as long as they got the job done.

You took Terzo’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “If they are people I knew, they’re part of my past. They’re not people I want to know anymore. Honestly, if came down to it, I’d burn the world down to save you.”

“That’s not part of the plan, correct?” Copia asked nervously. “Don’t get any ideas, amore.”

“Must every plan involve all of you walking into an obvious trap?” Reginetta asked voice shaking as she pushed herself up from her chair. She turned and made a quick exit from the room, letting the front door slam as she escaped. 

“Tesorino, wait,” Secondo called out, chasing after her.

“She has a point, you know,” Terzo added sharply, rising from his own seat. “It’s not like this sort of thing worked out well for us last time.”

“Terzo, this is different,” Primo offered.

“Oh, you’re right. This is worse. Much worse. This time we don’t have Mary, Alpha, or Omega here to help—”

“I’ve summoned Earth and Air—”

“Fantastic. Why not call everyone so you can host a proper family reunion at my fucking wake.”

Primo slammed his fists on the table. “I’m not going to let you die, Terzo!”

He sighed. “If you want to yell at god old man, be my guest. But my time is limited and I’d rather be doing anything else, so I am going to bed. Bellezza, will join me?”

You nodded once, too lost in your own thoughts to even think about sleeping. “Yeah, just um, give me a minute?”

He frowned, worry lines setting deep in his forehead. He wasn’t very good at being alone these days, especially when your time together was growing shorter by the day. That night in your apartment flashed in your mind, his soft confession about quiet being too much for him to handle. Everything you’d done since you met was to keep him safe, whether you realized or not. But were you really doing enough? Why did it sound like he was giving up?

You placed a kiss on his cheek on your way out of the room. The garden called to you once again, its empty husk now an old friend as you winded your way down the path. In the distance, the horizon was painted a streak of brilliant pink, announcing the arrival of another new day. A tear slid down your cheek as you tried desperately to steel yourself, flexing your hands into fists to keep from screaming. 

Primo had figured out a way to help him, but you couldn’t help but think of what might be lost in the process. There wasn’t much you could do about it if this was what Primo wanted—it had never been clearer that he was in charge and whatever he wanted was the plan. But the possibility of something going wrong was so obvious even the others had spoken up, though it didn’t change anything. If the hunters were as prepared as you suspected, you would be outnumbered by an enemy armed with stakes, fire, and poisons that could literally stop the vampires in their tracks. 

Was it all supposed to be some hopeless task? A trial designed for none of you to survive? You weren’t going to let that happen, couldn’t let it happen. You’d fallen hopelessly head-over-heels in love for the first time in your life and no one was going to take that away from you. All the silly plots to Terzo’s favorite movies finally started to make sense. You were so terrifyingly in love with Terzo Emeritus that you would do whatever it takes to keep him. Forever.

“It’s beautiful out here, huh?” A gentle voice asked behind you. As you spun around, Reginetta put her hands up to show she was no threat. “I’m sorry,” she started. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Sometimes I forget how easily we can sulk around in the dark.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Um, where’s—”

“Secondo?” she finished for you. “Secondo is taking a very long walk in the woods.”

“Ah. Is everything ok?”

She smiled faintly. “I won’t try to make excuses for his behavior. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you and frankly, he’s a centuries old grown ass man—He just…I hope you can believe me when I say that he loves his brothers even if he has a very odd way of showing it.”

You nodded once. “I understand. It’s…complicated.”

She laughed, her voice high and light like she was the mirror opposite of the man she was trying to defend. “Complicated is certainly one way to put it. I don’t know how much Terzo has told you and it’s not necessarily my place to share either, but there were long stretches of time where they were all living secluded lives. They cut themselves off from the world and from each other, but when everything…happened,” she paused as she fought back tears. “Terzo and Secondo blamed themselves for things that were so beyond their control. I blamed myself for—well, that’s another story. The point is, I’ve never seen Secondo as scared as he was when he heard about the fire at Meliora House. Not even when I was bleeding out in front of him, because that—that he could fix. But if Terzo had been in that house…if Terzo was—”

The tears she’d held back began to pour down her cheeks as she flung herself at you. She wrapped you in the tightest hug you’d ever felt as she mumbled into your hair. “You saved him. You might not have any idea what that means for this family, but I can tell you it means the world to me. And I know you mean the world to him.”

“It’s funny, you know? I love him. I’ve never loved anyone. I love him so much it hurts sometimes and I…I never really thought that was possible for someone like me. It sounds stupid but I think he saved me more than I saved him.”

“The Emeritus brothers are funny like that. I don’t think I ever even let myself dream of someone like Secondo.”

You cracked a smile. “Like a vampire?”

She laughed again. “I will admit that was a surprise. Did you know the Countess was a nun? It’s probably safe to say none of us could have predicted the path we would end up on. But the vampire thing…that’s only a part of who he is—part of who they are.”

“And you.”

“Yeah,” she replied with a nod. “And me.”

“Can I ask…” you drifted off, wondering how invasive you question might be.

“What is it like?” she finished and waited for you to nod in return. “It’s…different. I imagine it’s different for everyone, but once you get used to the new teeth it’s a little easier. And having someone who loves you walk you through it is infinitely easier than I imagine doing it alone would be. But as different as it is, you’re still you. Maybe a little,” she stopped to wave a hand, “amplified, but at the core you’re still everything you were. I sleep easier now, my dreams are a bit brighter. It’s not what I would call a carefree life, especially right now, but I don’t regret making that choice. Not for one fucking second.”

“Tesorino?”

You both turned to find Secondo leaning against the gate at the entrance to the garden, wearing a look of worry under his paints. Reginetta’s face lit up as bright as a thousand stars as she held out her hand to him.

“Hello, my love. Are you feeling better?”

“I am, thank you,” he replied and joined her, placing a soft kiss on her cheek. He shot a quick glance your way before taking a deep breath. “Sorellina, I—my behavior—”

“Oh.” You waved your hands. “No, no don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”

“No, sorellina, it is not okay. Please, please don’t tell him I said so, but Terzo was right—that was no way to welcome someone to our family. It was spite and cruelty that was directed at the wrong person entirely. I’m afraid right now I only have words to offer as an apology, but I hope that will be enough, at least until this whole thing is over.”

“It’s—uh—thank you, Secondo.”

“There. Was that so hard?” Reginetta teased, poking at his side. He flashed his fangs.

“You know, for what it’s worth you were actually pretty terrifying,” you offered.

He almost smiled. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Just please don’t make me stab you again, ok?”

“I think you mean let you stab me—”

“Ok, we get it,” Reginetta cut in. “You’re a big, strong scary vampire and no one can stop you, my love. But it is getting late or early—either way we should all go get some rest.” She moved quickly, wrapping you in another tight hug. “I am so glad we finally got the chance to meet. Goodnight, sorellina. Sleep well, ok?”

-x-

Terzo was sprawled out on the bed, lazily flipping through channels on the TV with his mouth set in a hard line and his shirt missing. The rest of the family could be heard shuffling around overhead, their muffled voices asking Primo for incidental things like blankets or the WiFi password. In only a few hours the cottage had turned from a secret hideout to a well-populated ancestral home, transforming into a place where the Emeritus brothers could feel and act like a “normal” family. You smiled to yourself, realizing you’d landed in the middle of some bizarre vampire version of those stupid movies Terzo loved.

He looked annoyed and tired, but with his shirt off and his sweats low around his hips he also looked exactly as he did when you first met. You weren’t sure if it was the sudden arrival of his entire family or something else making him so grumpy, but even in a cranky mood he was still the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. Thinking about it now, you never really stood a chance.

“There you are,” he huffed and turned, stretching his body like a cat in the sun. A tiny grin betrayed whatever feigned irritation had been on his face moments before as he patted the space next to him. “Come to bed, bellezza.”

How could you ever turn him down? You shed your clothes and crawled into the bed, pressing as close to him as you could get. He was still so warm and soft, not yet showing any signs of the poison’s horrible effects. You cupped his face, urging him to focus on you. “I love you, Terzo,” you whispered. “I love you so much.”

“I don’t think I will ever get tired of hearing that,” he admitted softly and brushed a hair away from your face. “I love you too, cara mia.”

“You promise?”

His brow furrowed. “Bellezza? Is something wrong?”

You shook your head. “No, nothing’s wrong. I just—I think—I have something to ask you. And I don’t think you’re going to like it, but I need you to hear me out.”

“I don’t like where this is going—”

“This isn’t something that’s going to be easy for either of us, but if this is what it takes…if walking directly into the lion’s den is our only option to save you, we have to do everything we can.”

“Bellezza, you don’t need to worry—"

“Terzo, I want you to turn me.”

Shocked, he stared back at you unblinking. “No. Absolutely not. No.”

“Terzo—”

He sat up and made a few nervous passes through his hair with his hands. “Bellezza, no. It will kill you. Do you understand that? You will die, to death.”

You sighed as you sat up to meet his eyes. “I know.”

“Then why would you—”

“Because if we do this…no matter what happens I won’t stay dead. It’s…the simple truth is that I love you,” you admitted. “And I will do anything it takes to protect you, even this. Especially this.”

He brought a hand to your face and traced his thumb over your cheek. “It should be me protecting you.”

“Do you think really I can’t take care of myself?” you asked teasingly. “We promised we would save each other and I intend to keep that promise. Forever.” You leaned into his touch, letting your eyes close as he continued to stroke your cheek. “I’m going to make them pay for what they did to you.”

“Has anyone ever told you how sexy you are when you’re angry?”

“Uh, yeah. You.”

“Come here, amore mio,” he asked softly. Carefully you climbed over him, legs straddling either side of his hips as you settled in his lap. “They were very foolish to make an enemy of you, but what you’re asking for…it can’t be undone. It is forever in a way that I’m not sure you understand—”

Your face fell. “Is that what you really think? That I’m not capable of grasping the concept of an eternity with you? That this is just some sudden whim and I haven’t considered the consequences? I have had nothing but time to think about these things since we got here. And half of that time I have spent without you, waiting every day for you to wake up and being terrified that you won’t. I have considered forever and it’s fucking scary, but I am so much more afraid of losing you.”

“Bellezza, I’m not going anywhere. Now that I have found you, I will never leave you.”

“Then why is it so crazy for me to feel the same way?”

“It’s not. It’s just—what if you wake up one day and you want a normal life, eh? That’s not something I could ever give you.”

You leveled your eyes with his. “I’ve never had a normal life. You and me? We aren’t normal people.  We never have been and we never will be. I don’t want normal, Terzo. Why would I want normal when I have what we have? I want this. I want you. I want to help my very, very handsome vampire boyfriend survive. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Ti amo tanto, amore mio.”

Your eyebrows pulled together. “You love what?”

“I love you, bellezza. So much,” he cooed and reached up to cup your face. “You are the love of my nine lifetimes and I will do anything for you.”

“Even this?”

He nodded slowly. “Even this. Forever is a long time, cara mia— “

“And it still won’t be long enough, bello.”

He smiled brightly, his sharp fangs on display. “No, but then I will have forever to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For saving me.”

You smiled. “Well, somebody has to.”

“They don’t, but I am very grateful that you did.”

“Well, I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner and that I haven’t really said it enough, but I want to be able to tell you everyday. For the rest of your eternal life.”

“It would be our eternal life, bellezza.”

“It will be our eternal life.” 

“Have you been hiding a romantic side all this time, hmm?”

You laughed, shaking your head as you leaned in close and pressed the softest kiss to his lips. “No, I must have picked it up from you.”

“Ah, I see. Well, in that case I’ve been an excellent teacher.”

“How do you stay so humble?”

“It’s a gift, my love,” he replied with a grin.

You rolled your eyes. “So, how does this work?”

Terzo’s brow furrowed as he bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m not entirely sure, bellezza. I know the basics—I drink from you, you drink from me, you die, you come back—but beyond that I’m not sure I could explain the mechanics of it all. Believe me, I wish I could give you more answers. Perhaps Primo could explain it in more scientific terms. But if this is truly what you want—”

“It is.”

He pressed his forehead to yours. “Whenever you’re ready, bellezza.”

“I’m ready. I love you, Terzo Emeritus. And I’ll love you forever.”

He leaned in, catching your lips in a sweet, tender kiss that said more than he could at the moment. He held you close, hands desperately clinging to you like it was the first time or the last time he would ever get to touch you like this. In some ways it was, but only as something fleeting, something temporary. The end of something that could give way to something so much more.

If the two of you would be forever, you’d have to start somewhere.

You barely felt his fangs cut into your neck. He had always taken such care in moments like this, always treated you like the most precious thing he had ever handled. To him, you were—and he made sure you knew every day since that first time you’d saved him. You could tell from the way he hummed against the wound on your throat his worship of you had no end. And maybe he had loved you from the very moment he saw you. Maybe you had loved him right back.

It flashed as your heart slowed, every moment the two of you had spent together replayed in your mind. Screaming at each other in the rain. The night in the garden. The kitchen. His stupid princess bed. Your entire life had led you to those moments—some bizarre, unexpected turn in your destiny had landed you here and now with the man you’d die for. A tear slipped down your cheek as your pulse grew faint, leaving you feeling dangerously calm.

Terzo pulled away and brought his wrist to his mouth, pausing as he looked at you. “Bellezza?” He asked, his voice thick with concern. “Amore—”

“It’s ok. I’m ok,” you assured him. “I just never thought I would be this happy.”

“Bellezza, you must drink from me now. Ok?”

You nodded, wincing at the sound of him biting into his wrist. He brought his arm to your mouth, encouraging you to drink as much as you wanted. As his blood flowed past your lips, you were surprised by how different it was. Terzo’s blood didn’t taste like sour metal on your tongue. He tasted like the way he loved you—warm and sweet and as endless as the edge of the universe with a heavy dash of something you couldn’t quite name. It was like drinking down something ancient and ethereal, yet just as familiar as every song or poem, book, or film you’d ever loved. As intangible as starlight and thick as honey, he tasted of beauty and joy and life.

You drank as much as you could, not wanting to waste a single drop of this gift he’d given you. It coursed through you, warm in your stomach like Kentucky bourbon and just as dizzying. You slumped against him, unable to hold yourself up any longer as his blood began to merge with your own.

“I’m here, bellezza,” Terzo whispered softly, smoothing a hand over your back. “I will always be here.”

A million questions formed and swirled around in your head, unable to travel the distance across the synapses. As they dissolved and fizzled out, your breathing slowed. Terzo kept talking, offering gentle declarations of love, but his voice began to drift until it was too far away to pick out a single syllable and you slipped into a dreamless sleep—

—and woke to the sound of shouting. The smell of blood surrounded you, dried and matted across your skin and in your hair. You weren’t sure how long you were out—long enough for all that blood to dry at least. How long did it take to die and come back as a vampire? Pain wracked your body as your heart began to beat again. Slowly at first, a heavy thump, thump, thump that pushed dead blood through your veins. Each muscle spasmed as you struggled to move for the first time in your new life.

Life? Afterlife? Or were you undead?

Fuck, it didn’t matter. You pushed yourself up, vision fuzzy as you forced your eyes open. Blurry figures with black and white hair stood at the foot of the bed, arms waving wildly as they screamed at each other. Terzo and Primo began to come into focus, but they were too caught up in their argument to notice you were awake. Pulling yourself into a seated position, you settled against the headboard and watched them repeatedly jab at each other.

“I’m not the one who’s lost his mind!” Primo yelled, his voice so loud you could feel it in your bones.

“Hah! If anyone in this house is senile it’s you, old man,” Terzo shouted back just as loud.

“Satanas help me. You idiots keep turning every woman you meet—”

“Not every woman. Just the ones we love, stronzo. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“You little—” Primo ground out some unintelligible Italian insults, repeatedly striking the back of his brother’s head as a means of punctuation.

“No, your mother stronzo—” Terzo snapped back and covered his head with his arms. “Stop fucking hitting me!”

“Nine hundred years and you still haven’t learned your actions have consequences—get back here!”

“Could you two please shut the fuck up?” You growled, pressing your fingers into your temples. Both men stopped and stared at you, stunned into silence. Relief left your lips in a sigh, the quiet filling your ears as you let your head fall back against the headboard. You unclenched your jaw, opening your mouth wide as you reached up to feel your sharp new teeth.

“B-bellezza? You’re awake?” Terzo stumbled toward the bed, quickly climbing up next to you. He took your face in his hands, inspecting it for signs of anything.  

“Looks that way, huh?”

“How—how do you feel?” Primo asked.

You felt different. What was the word Reginetta had used? Amplified. Everything louder, brighter, stronger. More. Instead of elaborating, you replied, “kind of like I want to kill you both.”

Your lover laughed nervously. “Hypothetically, right?”

“Yes, Terzo. I didn’t wake up murderous.”

“Because you were lucky,” Primo warned. “Of all the stupid things—” He cut himself off and threw his hands in the air, laughing angrily. “Mostriciattolo, you are lucky she woke up at all idiota. Ah, Mostriciattolo e Draculina. Perfetto.”

“Primo, what are you saying?”

“Nothing at all, little one.” He gave Terzo a pointed look and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

“What was that about? Why were you two fighting like that?”

He shrugged and slumped onto the bed. “Same as always—I can’t do anything right, don’t think before I act, etc., etc. It’s all very boring, bellezza.”

“He’s upset about me?”

He shook his head. “No, no, nothing like that. He’s upset about the situation. Said it was ‘beyond irresponsible’ even for me, but he isn’t upset about the outcome. He’ll probably tell you as much later. Enough about my grumpy brother, how are you feeling?”

“Kinda tired. Hungry.”

He let out a happy sigh. “Oh, amore mio. Let’s find you someone to eat.”

-x-

Reheated blood tasted nothing like Terzo’s. Thick and bitter, the lukewarm liquid stuck to the inside of some old commemorative thermos instead of pouring easily into your mouth. You turned the container up and to get liquid to drain faster, a dissatisfied grunt leaving you as your attempts failed. The others tried not to make it obvious, but each of them had cast glances of pity your way. The Countess had been particularly horrified that this was Primo’s solution to your first feed, arguing with him for five full minutes before he’d ordered everyone out of the house.

Between the less than palatable snack and the endless sway of the vehicle as it lurched over long-deserted backroads, it was hard to concentrate on Primo’s rant. As distracted as you were, it was obvious that the oldest Emeritus was no longer acting like himself. The compassionate man you’d known for months was gone, replaced by someone loud and angry. His face was harsh in the dim light, his white eye eerily reflecting the streetlamps as he spun around to bark at his family.

“Have I made myself clear?” he asked and frowned hard at the muted replies from his family.

“We get it, Primo. You’re in charge,” Terzo added sarcastically.

His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward and pointed a bony finger at his brother. “Not another word from you.”

Copia spoke up as Terzo shrank into his seat. “The plan hasn’t really changed that much Primo. Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?”

Primo growled, flashing his fangs as he sneered at Copia. “Is that what you think?”

The Countess sighed loudly and waved her hands between the men. “Are we gonna measure dicks all day or are we going to save Little Lord Terzo? Cuz I’m pretty sure I have the biggest cock around here and there’s no way our precious baby Draculina here isn’t fucking starving. And even if she’s not, I am. Your macho bullshit is far from appetizing, so can we wrap it up?”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know why you have your panties in a bunch when you know damn well every single one of us will follow you straight into hell, Primo. So let’s go.”

“She has a point,” Secondo offered. “We can talk about it for ages, but we might as well just get this thing done and get the kid someone real to eat.”

“Ooh.” The Countess’ eyes sparkled. 

“No one eats anyone until the ritual is complete. Do you understand?” Primo shouted as the van crawled to a stop. He waited for everyone to nod. “Bene. Let’s go.”

One by one the vampires filed out of the van, joined by the two hulking figures of Primo’s ghouls. They’d arrived sometime before you woke, wearing similar metal masks to the ones you recalled Omega and Alpha wearing once upon a time. Earth and Air were much larger than the ghouls you’d met back in the summer, only appearing vaguely human-shaped. Their forms were almost too perfect, the details a bit too sharp to sit well. Part of it was the heightened vampire sense, but Terzo had briefly explained they simply didn’t care enough to make themselves look more human.

You filed that in your worry about it later folder somewhere between “what have you been doing for 900 years?” and “explain werewolves,” before letting it go.

“Once we get inside, stick to the plan,” Primo ordered. 

“It’s not like we have any other options here Primo. Are you going to be like this the entire time?” Secondo asked.

The two older brothers began to argue in harsh whispers while Copia and Countess brushed past and strolled through the front door. Soft lights on the interior made the tall trees visible through the glass that encased the building, giving it a warm orange glow like sunset in the summer. It was a beautiful setting, full of ten times the greenery of Primo’s ridiculously lush conservatory. As you followed the group inside, you realized the botanical garden had a familiar touch. Primo hadn’t just thrown money at something 50 years ago—he created and curated a living work of art.

Terzo gently squeezed your hand. “Are you ok, bellezza?”

You nodded. “Does Primo still run this place or something?”

“It’s that obvious, huh? I tried to tell him they should update things, but he gets all fussy when it comes to this place.”

You hummed in response, gazing up at the lofty glass ceilings. Someday, you’d ask to come back and see this place during the day, but for now you had to stick to the mission.

“We should try to avoid an ambush if we can,” Primo began detailing his plan. “There are three paths to the exhibit we need. Copia, Countess, you two will come with me. Secondo, you and Reginetta take the central path. Terzo, you and Draculina will take the left path.”

“Is it wise to split up like this?” Reginetta whispered to Secondo who simply shrugged before whispering something back. 

“Remember, if you encounter any hunters try to leave them alive. Terzo and I will need every drop of blood we can get,” Primo warned. “We’ll meet in the exhibit in fifteen minutes. Be careful.” 

He turned and quickly walked away, leaving Copia and the Countess to chase after him with mild annoyance on their faces. Secondo nodded once toward Terzo before he and Reginetta made their way down the central path of the garden. With your stomach turning into tighter and tighter knots, you and Terzo moved through the left path.

Overhead, a system of fans and misters churned out unnatural mechanical noises, but the building was eerily quiet otherwise. Even with heightened senses you couldn’t hear any extra breathing or footsteps, no tell-tale signs anyone else was in the room with you. The occasional brush of a leaf against Terzo’s ridiculously puffy sleeve was the only sound that stuck out. It didn’t make any sense. The whole plot was designed to lure the Emeritus family here and there’s no way the hunters would’ve left the building empty.

Not even for a second.

The first shot whipped past you, barely missing your face before striking a tree. Before you could think much of it, you found yourself at the other end of the room, moving faster than you ever had. A small, metal cartridge had wedged deeply into the cracked bark, its pointed end breaking off as you worked it free. Inside, a clear liquid sloshed back and forth in a tiny vial.

“Terzo—” You’d barely turned to call out to him when the second shot embedded in your chest. Fire flared in your veins as the paralytic poison began to flood your system. Primo had anticipated this, handing out antidotes and vaccines before anyone left the cottage, but just because it couldn’t poison you didn’t mean it didn’t fucking hurt. You dropped on the spot as the vampire had instructed. Let them think it works, his voice repeated. Let them come to you.

It was easier to see now why Reginetta had been so angry about the stupid plan.

An unfamiliar face appeared over you with a cruel grin. “Aw, did that hurt? Funny how this stuff isn’t as effective on humans, but I hear it burns pretty bad.”

You gritted your teeth, keeping your mouth shut as long as you could. You have surprise on your side now, Draculina. They’ll never expect a turned hunter. Use that in your favor. You scanned the room as the man continued to taunt you, searching for any sign of Terzo.

“Where are the others, huh? I know you’re not stupid enough to come here alone.” He bent down, placing his boot on your chest as he wrenched the cartridge free. Pain radiated from the wound, pulsing in time with the beat of your heart. He tsked, shaking his head. “That won’t be enough.”

“Wha—”

He pressed a blade to your skin and whistled through his teeth, motioning to someone unseen. A dozen hunters silently emerged from the tree line and gathered to watch this man torture you. As Terzo feared, there were some you recognized, but not even one stepped forward to stop the attack. You held out as long as you could, biting down on your tongue to keep from crying out, not wanting to give them a single sliver of power over you. Blood began to pool on the floor beneath you and a tiny, wounded whimper escaped your lips before all that pain was replaced by something else.

The hunter hissed, pulling away to examine the fresh cut he’d accidentally made to his own hand. It took every ounce of strength you had left to stay still. Hunger ripped through you like nothing you’d ever felt before. A painful, consuming white-hot spark that could only be sated by one thing. You dug your nails into your palm, hoping to distract yourself but it was no use. You heard every drop as it moved from his hand and rolled down the knife before landing on the floor. It was so loud, a small insignificant sound made into a tidal wave.

You didn’t hear the others begin to shout as they drew their weapons.

Terzo stood at the edge of the path, his white eye glowing with rage as he stared down your attackers.

“Wha—I thought you shot him!”

“I did!”

“Why won’t you just stay dead?” the first hunter screamed.

“You threatened my family,” Terzo seethed, each step threatening. “You burned my brother’s business, killed his wife—"

“Hey, that wasn’t even us—”

“You set fire to my favorite house,” he growled through gritted teeth. “Reduced my home—my sanctuary—to ash and rubble while forcing us to flee in the middle of the night. You chased us, hunted us down in the city and sent assassins after us. And then you poisoned me and forced one of your own to make an impossible decision. I should tear you all limb from fucking limb for your arrogance. There is no honor among you, not a single shred of dignity spared for one of your own. You don’t even regret what you’ve done to her, what you all forced on her.” 

He cracked a sinister smile. “And now? Now she’s an Emeritus vampire and I’m going to feed all of you to her, piece by fucking piece.”

Your fangs pierced the first hunter’s neck before he could make a sound. The others began to scream and scatter, but Terzo was too fast. In the blink of an eye, the room filled with the sound of bones cracking and pained cries. A dozen bloody bodies lay at your feet, a sacrifice left at your altar by the man you loved.

The hunter hit the ground in a lifeless heap, his blood dripping from your chin as you smiled and reached for another.

“Bellezza?”

You tore through three more hunters before Terzo was able to restrain you.

“I love your enthusiasm, amore,” he purred as you struggled against his hold. “But Primo’s instructions were very clear. We need them alive.”

You turned your head, lips and teeth colliding hard with his just like that first messy kiss in his bedroom. Power rushed through you, fueled by adrenaline and something new—some impulse you didn’t want to control. Hunger. Power. Lust. Want. Need.  It clouded your brain, vision going red as you clawed at Terzo’s clothes and ripped through the fabric of his shirt. You pulled away whatever pieces you could, desperate to feel his skin.

You needed him now, more than you ever thought possible. The two of you tumbled to the floor, knees and elbows landing hard while never letting your lips part. He pivoted his hips and turned to pin you beneath him with a smile.

“Careful, bellezza,” he purred.

“Oh god, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you rushed, conscious thoughts returning in a flood embarrassment and shame. “I—I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s ok, amore mio. It’s ok,” he assured you while petting your hair. “It’s not your fault. I am rather irresistible and you might be, eh, more impulsive during your transition.”

“Impulsive,” you repeated with a laugh. “Fucking is an impulse now?”

His eyebrows knit together. “For you?”

“Don’t answer that.”

“I promise, bellezza, when this is all over—” He trailed off. He froze for a moment, muscles tense as his eyes went blank. His body went slack, collapsing on top of you in a heap of dead weight.

“Terzo?” You nudged him, slightly panicked until you felt him breathe.

He sat up, shaking his head as he came back to himself. “I’m ok, bellezza. But I think we should get to Primo quickly.”

You nodded and draped Terzo’s arm over your shoulder, lifting him as carefully as you could. You pushed through the exhibit door and into the next room, following the path with your head on a swivel. Getting shot with poison darts had felt about as good as you’d expected, and you were in no hurry to let it happen a second time.

As you moved through the building the path leading to the exhibit Primo had pointed out was suspiciously clear. You hoped maybe that was a good sign rather than a bad one, but it wouldn’t surprise if it was some elaborate setup either. The hunters had months or, depending on the size of the operation, possibly years to plan for this. Any part of of the building could be a trap.

You opened the last door to find Primo in the center of the room, hovering over what looked like an altar. Dozens of black candles surrounded him, their flames adding an eerie flicker to his eyes.

“Where the hell have you been?” he hissed as you approached and flew from his spot. He reached out, gripping your jaw as he eyed the blood staining your face. “What did you do?”

Terzo gave him a weak push, urging him away from you. “We were attacked, you ass. Leave her alone.”

“And you?”

“I’m not doing so well. Obviously.” He stumbled toward the odd arrangement in the middle of the room. Strange symbols lined the floor, etched in chalk and what looked like blood. “What the hell have you been doing in here?”

“Preparing, you ass,” Primo snapped back. “Where are the others?”

“How should I know? I thought Copia was with you. What happened to your grand plan—”

“A plan to save you—”

“Yes, and I will be eternally grateful once you stop acting like—”

“Don’t you dare,” Primo warned sharply.

Terzo sighed and rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to Primo’s project. He took a few unsteady steps, mumbling something in disbelief before dropping to his knees. You rushed to his side, but he shrugged off your attempts to help him stand. Instead, he leaned against you and stared forward, eyes fixed on the strange plant with its single white flower at the center of the altar. He began to shake, shoulders heaving as he gasped for breath.

You shouted his name, frantically trying to get him to answer you or at least say anything. His eyes were still full of life as you forced him to look away, but there was a profound sadness behind them you’d yet to see even on Terzo’s worst days. The vampire was crying. It hit you hard, a punch to the gut you didn’t expect as he collapsed against you, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Terzo? What—”

Primo knelt beside the two of you and smoothed a hand over his brother’s hair. “It will be ok, mostriciattolo. Have I ever broken a promise to you?”

He shook his head and cried harder, unable to form the words to answer as he held onto you.

“Primo, what the hell is happening?” you screamed.

He gave you a faint smile and jutted his chin toward the plant. “It’s…it’s a rare species, effectively extinct. Beautiful. Poisonous. It’s loosely related to datura—”

“Primo, I’m not a fucking botanist—”

“It grew around our home,” he interrupted, his voice flat as he stared at nothing. “When Terzo was a child, the grounds were covered in it. By the time we—it was all gone by the time he became a man. Seemingly lost forever.”

There was another untold story in the look they shared, one that spanned centuries and somehow now included you. You held Terzo, hoping to ease his pain or at least offer some form of comfort as he slowly pulled himself back together. With a hard sniff he pulled away from you, tears tracing lines through his paint.

“Mi dispiace, bellezza. I have not seen this flower in a very long time. I was not expecting to see it again—”

There was a rush of footsteps followed by a slamming door. Behind you, the other vampires began to shout as they dragged any and every object they could find toward a makeshift barricade. The door bowed under the force of something outside, a rhythmic thud against solid metal.

“I am going to tear out your eyes so you can watch me pull your head through your ass you little prick,” the Countess seethed, hurling her threats through the door. She leaned against the wall; her right hand pressed over what appeared to be a stab wound. Copia shrugged off his jacket and knelt beside her to hold it against her side.

“By all means, take your time, Primo,” Secondo barked sarcastically and braced himself against the door. “We’re not under attack or anything!”

“Stay close,” Primo muttered as he helped Terzo stand.

“Where would I even go?” Terzo sassed back, his body growing weaker with each step.

“Not you, stronzo.”

“Hardly the time for name calling—”

“Shut up!” he snapped and turned toward the altar. He began to toss various herbs and tinctures into a to-go cup he’d clearly swiped from the botanical garden’s gift shop. There was a familiar smell of ash and rust as the mixture took on the properties of Terzo’s usual antidote. A thick green-black sludge formed as Primo painstakingly stirred and cast a look over his shoulder.

“Is everyone ready?”

“Do we have a choice?” Copia shouted back, grunting as he twisted broken pieces of the door’s metal frame against itself.

“No matter what happens you must keep drinking. You understand fratellino? Do not stop for anything,” Primo warned in a low voice. With a careful hand he plucked the sole flower from the plant and crushed it between his fingers. He began to whisper something in Latin, a chant you couldn’t quite make out and wouldn’t understand even if you could. The flower began to crumble, turning to a pale dust that slowly fell between his fingers and into the cup. He cast one last look at Terzo and smiled. “To your health.”

He downed the contents and dropped to his knees, shoving his arm in Terzo’s face. “Drink.”

“Are you insane?” Terzo hissed.

Primo used the opportunity to jam his wrist against Terzo’s fangs and hold it there. “Drink.”

Whatever argument he wanted to make died in his throat as Primo’s blood spilled into his mouth. He tried to fight him, desperately clawing at his brother’s clothes, but his weakened state was no match for the older vampire. You watched in horror as your lover struggled, his eyes pleading for help. One by one the other vampires began to realize the seriousness of the situation, turning to look as Terzo slammed his feet against the floor in protest.

Whatever you’d been told, whatever parts of the plan you had all tried to understand escaped the room as glass began to shatter. The hunters were no longer trying to get through the blocked door, instead they spilled in from all sides, seeking any entrance to the solarium. The family formed a circle around Primo’s altar, protecting Primo and Terzo from the rapidly approaching violence, but there were more hunters than you could count. As predicted, they had prepared for this on a scale you didn’t think was possible.

“Primo—” You stopped short and gasped as your eyes landed on him. His face was gaunt, skin sagging away from his bones in a way that made him appear almost hollow. He was aging rapidly, withering away as each drop of life passed from his body to Terzo’s. “Oh, fuck.”

The room filled with the sound of hunters readying their weapons, each taking aim at the vampire of their choice.

Terzo finally managed to break his brother’s hold and pushed him away before doubling over. Every muscle in his body flexed and tensed as he tried to crawl away, pushing as hard as he could. With one great heave, a torrent of dark bile spilled from his lips onto the floor as his body rejected the poison. The hunters froze, many with a look of disgust on their faces as the puddle below Terzo grew.

Movement caught the corner of your eye, a blur of white so fast the humans never saw it coming. Shots rang out as the first few dropped, but Primo was too quick. Moving like an unstoppable ferocious predator, he cleared the room of anyone in his path. Secondo and Copia followed his lead, taking out as many hunters as they could while you rushed to Terzo’s side.

He was shaking, soaked in sweat and sick, but he was alive.

“Bello?”

He grinned and reached out to caress your face. “I’m here, bellezza,” he purred as you leaned into his touch. “I’m here. I will always be here.”

“How do you feel?”

His smile grew even wider, almost sinister. “I am starving.”

You smiled back. “Me too.”

Carnage was the only way you could begin to describe what was happening around you. A massacre—no—a battlefield stretched from one end of the room to the other drenched in viscera and severed limbs. Terzo and the others tore through the room, forced to finish a fight that had started centuries ago. The smell of blood and death was clinging to everything, sharpened senses now unable to ignore even the smallest drop. It overwhelmed you, drawing you into the fray as you bit into the first faceless hunter you could reach.

A few feet away, the Countess gave you a thumbs-up with the severed arm of one of her victims.

-x-

The cottage was unnaturally quiet. As quickly as they arrived, the other vampires had disbanded and headed their separate ways, leaving a cluttered and messy house in their wake. You weren’t sure what was going to happen next. You weren’t sure anyone did.

Primo had nearly died trying to save Terzo. That much was clear from the last time anyone had seen him, but his brothers were quick to assure you that Primo could and would take care of himself. For now, you had to let that be enough, but it felt wrong to leave your friend’s home in such a state.

Especially after everything he had done for you.

You went through each room, picking up whatever you could and putting things back together the way Primo normally kept them. There wasn’t much time, but you sensed Terzo understood this was something you needed. He simply kissed your cheek and left to pack up whatever belongings the two of you had accumulated in that little room.

The kitchen wasn’t a complete disaster, but the least you could do was rinse the handful of old coffee mugs resting in the sink. You washed them carefully though the years and dishwasher cycles had been less than kind to any images they once held. You always assumed you would have time to find out what it was about tourist traps that fascinated Primo, but now you weren’t sure how long you’d have to wait.

It wasn’t until you’d put the last mug away that you noticed the letters. Three envelopes had been left on the table, each the same red as Primo’s scuffed slippers. Each addressed carefully in an elaborate script. Terzo. Draculina. Diavolina.

“Hey Terzo?” You called out, a nervous shake to your voice.

He appeared in a blink, bags in hand as he quickly scanned the room for threats.

“Everything’s ok. It’s just…Primo…he left letters.”

“Ah,” Terzo grunted and dropped the suitcases in favor of clutching his chest. “Thank Satanas. I am too full to eat anyone else today. What does the letter say?”

You shrugged and handed him the one with his name before tearing into your own. There wasn’t much, a simple short note expressing a few wishes written in the most impressive penmanship you’d ever seen. “He says not to look for him—”

“Typical.”

“And that he wants to leave the cottage to his friend.”

Terzo made a face. “He has a friend?”

“You missed so much while you were half-dead, huh?” you teased before reading through the letter one more time. “Hey, what’s Villa Majesty?”

“Eh,” he started and sighed heavily, avoiding your eyes. “I don’t think you will like my answer.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It’s a castle…my castle.”

“Your…what? Like a castle, castle?”

“Sì, it is the smaller one.” He offered with a cheeky grin. “But I think you’ll like it there.”

You groaned. “How many houses do you have?”

He shrugged. “You have plenty of time to find out.”

-x-

“Ah, ah, bellezza,” Terzo purred and brushed your hair away from your neck. He placed a kiss on the newly exposed skin before whispering into your ear. “Slowly, my love.”

You resisted the urge to shrug him off and followed his instructions, drawing long, slow pulls from the vampire hunter’s neck. No one ever tasted as good as Terzo, but he was determined to teach you how to make the most of every kill. Though he couldn’t bake to save his life, so far he had been right about fear and desire tasting better than anger.

You suspected he just got off on watching you feed—not that you minded. Your relationship had started covered in blood after all.

The mattress creaked as Terzo pressed even closer, lips returning to your neck. It had only been a month since you arrived at Villa Majesty—a month-long whirlwind honeymoon phase filled with moments like this and various other “vampire lessons” that were thinly veiled excuses for him to get his hands (or lips) on you. But it was easy to let him try to charm you all over again even if he had already won your heart.

“Like this?” you asked, leaning into him as the hunter’s pulse began to stutter. It was pure luck that you’d found this one, or maybe just stupidity on their part. The village below was small and picturesque enough to attract a few tourists, but it was easy enough to spot someone behaving the way you used to. Feeding on humans can with its own set of morality issues, but when it came to anyone who would take down you or your new family without a second thought the decision was much easier.

Terzo hummed against your skin, his hands reaching around you to free the hunter from your grip. You let out a small yelp as he seized you and pulled your further onto the ridiculous bed, your snack and lessons now forgotten. Much like Meliora House, Villa Majesty was also decorated like a fucking wedding cake, but your lover made up for his eccentric taste in furniture by fucking you senseless on any and every surface he could and making post-coital promises about any remodeling the entire place if you wanted.

Honestly, there were worse things than being wrapped in lavender frills and ruffles while being spoiled by an immortal billionaire.

You pawed at his shirt, grabbing fistfuls of the near-transparent fabric between your fingers as you readied yourself to rip it from his body.

“Nooo,” he whined. “Not this one, per favore. I look too good in this.”

“But you look better out of it.”

“Bah! Impossible, bellezza,” he huffed and rose up on his knees to pose. “Look at me!”

“Oh, I am,” you assured him. You pushed yourself up and let your eyes trail over his form slowly, appreciating every inch. It was growing more faint over time, but you reached up and pressed your fingers to the scar on his chest with a small sigh. “Remind me why we even bother to get dressed again?”

It was his turn to sigh. “Omega and Alpha’s rules.”

“Ah, yes the demonic bodyguards who were tired of seeing your cock.”

His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward and took your wrists in his hands. In one quick motion he pinned you to the bed and hovered over you. “No one has ever tired of my cock, bellezza.”

“Hmm, it is quite nice. Is that why you showed it to me the second I walked into your house?”

“If it works, it works.”

“Terzo?”

“Amore?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said with a grin and bent down to kiss you. “Ugh, ok, ok, you can tear it off me—just this once.”

He released your hands and sat back to allow you better access. He was right he did look good like this, but his cock was tenting in his pants and straining against the fabric and that was a look you preferred to any other. You ran your hands over his chest and began the delicate task of carefully slipping each of the buttons free. He groaned at the pace of your work, breath hitching any time you touched the slightest bit of skin. Teasing Terzo had become a favorite pastime of yours over the last few weeks, watching him barely maintain his composure as you found the balance between your heightened senses and his own. He could easily overpower you if he wanted and some days it was more fun to encourage that, but with your appetite sated all you could think about was having him take you slowly.

“Terzo?” You asked as you pushed open his shirt to press a kiss against his stomach. “Make love to me?”

“Every single day for eternity, amore,” he promised with a sly smile. He shook the gauzy shirt from his shoulders and cast it aside, no longer caring about its price tag or the way he looked in it. He eased you onto your back and pushed your knees apart, leveling his face with your sex and the stupidly expensive, but admittedly sexy panties he’d procured for your new wardrobe.

He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and slowly slid them down your legs before stuffing them in the pocket of his tightening pants. He wasted no time burying his face in your cunt and letting his tongue dance a dizzying rhythm across your sensitive nerves. With a firm grip on his hair, you encouraged and praised him letting the man you loved completely take you apart. He held you down with one hand and used the other to tease and slide his fingers into your entrance, working to coax an orgasm out of you.

As you teetered on the edge of intense pleasure, he bit into the inside of your thigh and moaned loudly. At the same time you let go, your body tensing around his fingers as he drank from you. If it wasn’t for how painfully hard he must have been, you thought he could stay there for the rest of his life. Instead, he pushed your knees to your chest and kicked his pants across the room. He pressed into you slowly, eyes closed as he bit his own lip bloody.

“Bellezza, do you see what you do to me?”

You raised your head and watched your bodies connect, sighing with relief as he filled you. “Fuck,” you whispered, hands already grasping at the sheets. “Do you see what you do to me?”

When he was fully seated inside you, he stilled his hips and bent down to press a kiss to your forehead, letting you keen beneath him. Your revenge came as you nipped his throat and let out a particularly lascivious moan as his blood dripped onto your tongue.

“No fair, bella. Do you want me to make love to you or do you want me to fuck you?”

“Both,” you replied with a grin and raised your hips. “They can be the same thing. Especially when you taste this good.”

“Temptress,” he purred and began a torturous rhythm with his hips.

“Vampire,” you shot back, meeting each thrust.

He growled and bit into your neck, drinking from you as his pace picked up. The vibration of his low moans melted into your own, rattling through your chest as you neared your release. He was so loud, alternating between fucking and drinking and moaning while the bed shifted beneath you. You loved him like this, loved to see him so desperately in love with you that he almost couldn’t stand it. You told him so as he pounded into you with a ferocity that drew sounds from your throat Omega would probably leave a note about later.

Terzo’s fingers found their way back to your center as he pulled off your neck and leaned up to watch you come undone. And you did, your bliss hitting you hard in intense waves that washed over you. No one had ever fucked you like he could; no one had ever loved you as he did. No one else ever would.

He cried out, stilling his hips as he reached his own end and spilled inside you. He gasped for air, burying his face in your neck as he came down. The two of you lay like that for a while, twisted up and consumed by your love for each other.

A soft knock broke the silence of the bedroom. Terzo offered you a lazy smile and rolled off the bed, taking the sheet with him. He tucked it around his waist before opening the door a crack to reveal a slightly nervous Omega.

“Uh…sorry to disturb you…but you told me— “

Terzo threw open the door. “Is it here?”

Omega yelped and covered his eyes with his hand. He shoved a small package toward Terzo with the other hand before running down the hallway while shouting, “boundaries people!”

Terzo just shrugged and closed the door. You rolled onto your stomach to watch him rip into the cardboard box, curious to see what was so important it disturbed such a soft moment. The vampire smiled brightly as he walked toward you.

“You have no idea how hard this was to find, bellezza.”

You furrowed your brow. “What is it?”

He winked and handed you the box. Packed neatly and carefully inside was the same vintage hockey sweater you’d once owned, your favorite team’s colors still pristine and bright. Another smaller velvet box sat in the middle of their emblem. You blinked up at him, but he just shrugged and gestured for you to open that one as well.

The next time your eyes met he was on one knee, still wrapped in the sheet.

“Is this why you didn’t want me to rip your shirt?”

“I was trying to create a moment, bellezza.”

You slid off the bed and walked over to him, gently caressing his face. “I think you proposing naked is still a moment, bello. Better than your silly movies.”

He smiled softly. “Will you marry me, amore mio?”

“Yes,” you replied with a nod, tears filling your eyes. “Of course I will, you idiot.”

Thank you to everyone who waited patiently and cheered me on while I tried to complete this story. Your comments kept me going through some really tough times and I can't thank you enough.

I'd like to thank @ramblingoak for holding my hand for the past YEAR and being just the best fucking friend through everything. Suck Club would not exist without you. Thank you. 💜

here's more stuff from me // my ko-fi info

Banchetto: Insalata

Papa Emeritus III x Reader

AO3 | Contorno | Masterpost

A caprese salad consists of so few ingredients but as long as they are fresh and ripe they bring the perfect balance. For variety you pick an assortment of tomatoes, blood red heirlooms, green beefsteak and orange roma. The visual appeal of the assorted colours, shapes and texture more than make up for the non traditional choices. Freshly made mozzarella as well, all evenly sliced and then already the preparation is almost complete.

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

You are reading. Well, you are trying to read but unfortunately the man sitting across from you is proving far too much of a distraction. It was mid morning, breakfast long since eaten and cleared away. You had joined him as you did so often now and it was barely creeping towards time to begin thinking about lunch. Copia had returned your notes and you were still in the process of working through them, adding sticky notes with your amendments into the recipes to help you when time came to make them. That’s what you should be doing at least.

Instead every few seconds you find your gaze pulled back to him. He is also reading, the glasses he only just admitted to needing perched on the end of his nose. They slip further down every time he scrunches his face at whatever it is he is reading and you have lost count of how many times he has paused to push them up carelessly. Every now and then he notices the smudges left by his fingers and removes them completely to wipe them on his handkerchief as he shoots you a smile. He had let his hair air dry this morning so it falls in soft waves over his forehead. The muted sunlight catches in his silver roots every time he pushes his hair out of his eyes. You think to tell him how good he looks at this moment but you don’t want to break the comfortable silence. 

It’s sickeningly domestic but you can honestly say you have never been happier. The shift was subtle at first as you had spent a great deal of time in his rooms anyway but in a matter of days that time grew longer and longer until you rarely left on more than an errand from morning to evening. He would ask you to sit with him as he worked, join him for meals, linger in the kitchen as you prepared and even once attempting to help you clean the dishes. That is until he ended up dropping a plate in his inattention, the resounding crash making your heart skip a beat in a much less pleasant way then it usually did around him. You couldn’t even begin to be annoyed with him though, his apologetic puppy eyes forcing you to let him off with only a banishment to the kitchen table and a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Affection was easier now, not always so underlined with that awkward tension you had almost become used to. He liked to touch you. To lace your fingers together across the table when you ate, rest his hand on your waist when you stood together, play with a lock of your hair as you spoke, press a chaste kiss to hand or your cheek in passing. You had been hesitant at first to return his affection so boldly but the way he would glow when you reached for him first, his wide smile emphasising your favourite creases at the corners of his eyes, was enough to override your self consciousness.

There was still tension there, hot little frissons if you look into his eyes a bit too long or his body rests a little too close. Part of you wants to chase it but you no longer felt the need to rush. Although unspoken it seems you both chose to relish in this period of getting to know each other better, talking about your likes, dislikes, views and opinions or just existing in each other's company. It is comfortable in a way you never imagined you could be with him but you are more sure now than ever that ‘Papa Emeritus III’ who had led the Ghost project and the church was only a very superficial part of who he was.

There’s a childlike glee in him every time he tells you stories of his life peppered with ridiculous puns and dorky jokes that feels so far removed from the persona you had thought you had known previously. And yet you can see how he thrived as a performer and took to that role so naturally. He puts his whole self into recreating the tale he is telling with animated hands, exaggerated expressions and often silly voices whether he is talking about his misspent youth, rising through the clergy ranks or his touring adventures. You would start to feel very uninteresting in comparison until he would start to tease stories from you. Your worst cooking disasters that have him crying with laughter and disbelief that you could ever make a potato explode. But when he asks you of your family and your childhood you see a sad wistfulness in his expression that makes your heart hurt and you hope that one day he might open up about some of the harder parts of his life as well.

The tolling of the 11 o’clock bell brings an end to your romantic reverie. It is time to return to reality and begin thinking about lunch. You uncurl yourself from the armchair, your movements capturing his attention. He beckons you towards him with a curled finger as he places his book down on the settee beside him. You should go straight to the kitchen but as he has distracted you all morning anyway what is the harm in a few more minutes. You are sure your eagerness is obvious as before you know it you are sitting in his lap with his arms around you. 

‘Where are you off to cara mia,’ he says once you are settled. You slide his glasses up and into his hair, pulling the long fringe out of his face and you can’t resist letting your fingers run through the length until you can play with the strands at the nape of his neck. ‘I have been enjoying you watching me so attentively.’

‘And I was enjoying the view,’ you tease. His deep chuckle rumbles through his chest pleasantly where you are pressed against him. He leans up for a kiss, unable to keep the pleased smile from his face. Your lips ghost over his, barely indulging him but leaning down to continue talking in his ear. ‘I am about to start working on your lunch.’

‘How about an amuse bouche first mia cuocoina?’ He is irresistible when he is like this so you indulge him. You press kisses along a teasing path, his temple, his sharp cheekbone and the tip of his nose before finally reaching his lips. He closes the remaining distance between you impatiently and just as you are about to deepen the kiss a loud knocking rings out through the room. He drops his head against the back of the settee with a huff of annoyance and you have to forcibly remove his hands from your hips for you to be able to get up. You open the door to find a ghoul waiting for you on the other side holding a basket and a note.

‘From Papa Primo, for you Sister.’ They hand it to you before abruptly turning to leave and you see Terzo’s head shoot up in interest as you close the door and turn around.

‘What is he writing to you about?’ He glares over the back of the chair, watching you put the basket down on his desk. 

‘Let me open it and I will tell you,’ you retorted. The basket is heavy and you have no doubt that this is yet another offering from Primo’s greenhouses. He hauls himself up from the settee with an exaggerated groan as you unfold the thick paper and read. 

Sorella it is about time my brother gets out of his rooms and I suspect you will have more success convincing him then I. If I could prevail on you to make us a light lunch and bring it along with him to the rose garden I would be very appreciative. Secondo and Copia will also be joining us as well as yourself if you would do us the honour. 

I will expect you both at noon. 

Primo

Terzo. It will be good to see you. Please do not give the sorella any trouble and do as you are bid. 

Handing the note to him you dig into the basket. Underneath the fragrant bunches of fresh herbs you find it’s filled to the brim with ripe tomatoes in a variety of sizes and colours, probably hand picked from the vine that very morning. 

‘Why do you get a longer note than me?’ He grumbles, squinting at his brother's cursive scrawl, clearly forgetting to drop his glasses back down onto his nose. Circling around him you knock them gently out of his hair so he can at least see even if they land a little crookedly. 

‘Lunch is going to be alfresco today,’ you call over your shoulder as you head into the kitchen to get started, not giving him any chance to argue. With less than an hour to prepare this is not going to be your most elaborate creation but you have some freshly made mozzarella and along with Primo’s offering you have an idea that should be perfect. 

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

The dressing for this salad could be as simple as a drizzle of balsamic vinegar but you do prefer to add a little more flavour. To an old jam jar you add olive oil, honey, freshly pressed garlic and of course the main ingredient, balsamic vinegar. Why a jam jar you may ask? Well the trick with a vinaigrette is understanding that the separate ingredients don’t really want to mix together. You can stir it, whisk it, even blend it but unless you are serving it straight away the mixture will begin to separate. You prefer to give it a good shake to mix everything and your trusty jam jar allows you to do that right before the dish is served.  

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

Prepping a quick salad with what Primo had sent you takes around half an hour but you are done with time still to spare. Terzo had disappeared to his bedroom after grumbling to himself about his ‘fratello esigente’ and was yet to return so you took the time to grab some leftovers to make this lunch a little more substantial. There was half a loaf of bread that you sliced up, some stuffed peppers and olives, cuts of ham and cheese and even some pepper taralli that had become a constant request since you had first made them all those weeks ago. 

With everything that would fit packed away in the little basket you go to find Terzo who had yet to reappear. Even with the amount of time you were in each other's company you still hadn’t spent more than a few minutes in his bedroom. You understood, you supposed. It was his one sanctuary away from everything but you hoped one day soon he might invite you even there. The door is open when you round the corner and you see him standing before his mirror, a pile of shirts sitting on the bed next to him. 

‘I’m ready to go Terzo,’ you say after knocking on the door frame. He turns to you with a frown on his face but your attention is drawn to his open shirt. His dark chest hair and olive skin contrast beautifully with the stark white of the shirt he is trying on. He starts to button it from his mid chest leaving an enticing glimpse but you can see his frustration build as he gets further and further down. His once flat stomach now protrudes slightly from his waistband, not enough to have the buttons pull but the shape of his body is visible. He looks incredible.

‘I can not go out like this cara mia,’ he says, turning back to his reflection to scrutinise his outfit. 

‘Why not?’ you ask. You cross the room coming to a stop behind him so you are looking at the same thing he is in the mirror. 

‘Look at me,’ he gestures up and down the length of his body before settling his hands where he seems to be most self conscious. You can’t have him thinking he looks anything less than irresistible for even a moment.You wrap your hands around his waist sliding them under his own,where he is holding his belly. You caress the soft swell back and forth while you try and catch his gaze in the reflection. 

‘I am and I see a happy healthy man who has enjoyed delicious food made for him by someone who lo .. cares about him very much.’ His eyes flash in surprise before he looks over himself again from your perspective, a smug smile growing on his lips. You hope he is just about to accept your compliment and didn’t catch your little slip but you end that train of thought there. 

‘Oh is that so?’ His spark has returned, your compliments feeding his usual confidence in his attractiveness. But there is something else in his expression like he has just figured something out. ‘You like me like this, eh?’

‘I like you. Full stop.’ He preens but you sense that he wants to push you further. Hopefully the time limit you are on will stall him for now. You aren’t sure that you are quite ready to admit how much you have enjoyed feeding him up.  

‘Mmm ok,’ he responds thoughtfully, turning in your arms and pulling you flush against his soft body. He kisses you soundly, chasing your lips every time you try to pull back. Before long though his playful mood shifts as he steps back. He takes your hands in his but otherwise maintains some space between you. ‘There is something we need to talk about though before we go.’

‘What is it?’ There is a hint of worry in his voice but you try not to let yourself speculate. You needed to just listen to what he had to say. 

‘Please don’t misunderstand me when I say this.’ He pauses for but a moment to press a kiss to your knuckles trying to reassure you of his sincerity. ‘Until very recently I have never truly felt my life was my own. I had a set path that I was to walk down and very big shoes to fill as leader and well, you have seen my brothers.’ He is torn between a fondness and frustration that you can understand. ‘No matter what I do I am their fratellino.’ He locks his eyes on yours willing you to understand. ‘This, I mean what we have, I don’t want their input not yet.’ 

‘I understand Terzo.’ It is a relief to know this was all he was concerned about. You had seen for yourself how they had treated him during the intervention you had been witness to. Even though you wholeheartedly agreed with them at that time. You can understand why he would want to keep what you have private, especially so early in whatever it was that was happening. Not to mention you had your own reasons for not wanting them to know.

‘You do?’ You can’t help but smile at the relief on his face. 

‘Of course. I think you are right.’ You had long since stopped worrying about the distinction between your work for him and your relationship but you are well aware of how it might look to others. How unprofessional you were being. ‘Your brothers asked me to do a job and they might not be happy to know that I have taken on additional duties.’ You say with a wink, trying to lighten his mood further. You’re rewarded with his deep rumbling laugh as he pulls you close again. 

‘Si, si. We should review these additional duties. I think I have some additions.’ He leers at you and you can feel your cheeks heat up in response.

‘Stop that we will be late.’ You swat at his chest and get to hear him laugh yet again but it really is time to get going. ‘And I am going to need your help carrying all this food.’

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

Now for your favourite part, making it all look pretty. You lay out your slices of mozzarella first, randomly placing them across the large tray you are using for this dish. The slices of beefsteak and heirloom tomatoes next trying to keep the colours balanced. You use the bright orange roma tomatoes to fill in the remaining gaps and then all that is left is fresh basil leaves tucked between the slices. 

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

‘Sorella you spoil us!’ Primo says helping you unpack the basket onto the table that had been set up. You had never paid much mind to this shady corner of the rose garden but it does seem like the perfect place for an alfresco lunch. The wrought iron dining set is well kept with only specs of rust appearing on some of the joints between the ornate decorations. Five chairs are positioned around half of the oval table giving everyone a view of the garden. The table had already been set with a plain table cloth thrown over, shining silver cutlery, pretty floral plates and a bottle of red wine, already been decanted, a lace cap sitting over the opening to discourage any tempted bugs. 

‘Oh it was nothing at all Papa. Most of this I had already prepared and the salad was simple enough.’ He smiles at you warmly, his light paints emphasising the creases of his expression. He had taken the centre seat and he gestures you into the seat to his right, patting your shoulder gently. You aren’t entirely sure why you have been invited to this family gathering but it would be rude to question his invitation. 

Secondo is sitting to his left already sipping on a glass of wine but he offers you a smile, a subtle lift of the corner of his mouth before his attention is drawn to Terzo. You glance to your right where he is sitting looking uncomfortable, even hidden behind his dark glasses. He seems to be staring into the nearest bush trying to ignore the presence of his brothers. As you take a seat you try to subtly rest your hand on his knee and give him a gentle squeeze, about the only reassurance you can, given your agreement not to give away the nature of your relationship to his family quite yet. He glances at you offering you a weak smile but he rests his hand over yours before clearing his throat.  

‘Is Copia too busy to join us now?’ He asks, sounding oddly formal but finally looking in Primo’s direction. 

‘He said he would be here,’ he replies calmly as he pours everyone a glass of wine, topping up Secondo’s last. After accepting his Terzo slumps back into his seat nursing his glass. Primo tuts at him. ‘Vieni adesso, Renzo, non vorrai essere scontroso con il nostro ospite, vero?’ He sits up abruptly lifting his glasses so he can glare at Primo. 

‘Quindi è per questo che l'hai invitata? Quindi mi comporterei bene?’ Secondo tries to conceal a laugh at his Italian outburst which only earns him a share of Terzo’s glare. 

‘I have my reasons fratelino, but let’s not argue today.’ He looks at him sternly. ‘Por favore.’

‘Nessun tipo di compagnia potrebbe farlo comportare da adulto,’ Secondo mutters but whatever he says seems to upset both Primo and Terzo. ‘Ey!’ He shouts, rubbing the back of his head where Primo had just administered a quick slap. 

‘None more of that! From either of you, capisce?’ He points at the two brothers waiting for them both to nod in agreement before sitting back down. The four of you sit in silence just waiting for Copia’s arrival but just when it begins to get unbearable you hear a commotion heading towards you.  

‘Sorry I am late,’ Copia calls out breathlessly as he rushes around the corner in a blur of red. ‘Meeting with Sister Imperator ran over,’ he pants collapsing into the chair next to Secondo. He had forgone his cassock today but was still buttoned up in one of his formal suits in spite of the seasonal weather. Clearly one of the perks of being a retired Papa was being able to dress more casually. You are not sure if you had ever seen them dressed this casually during any of their reigns. 

‘Everything has gotten so behind with the Ghost project since, well…’ He trails off glancing at Terzo. He clears his throat, deciding not to continue with that line of conversation. ‘Terzo, Papa, you are looking well.’ 

‘Thank you Cardinal, you look like you could do with a good night's sleep.’ He smiles but it is sharp, Copia’s misstep digging at his still sore pride. 

‘Well, shall I tell you all what is on the menu?’ You interrupt not wanting the awkwardness to linger any longer. 

‘Yes please do, Sorella,’ Primo says, relieved at your quick thinking.

‘What you sent over was absolutely perfect for a caprese salad because just yesterday I had made some fresh mozzarella so that is the main attraction of today’s lunch but I also brought some leftovers we had to make sure no one left hungry.’ You may be waffling slightly but they all listen politely as you point out all the separate dishes. 

‘Yes I see my fratello has not been going hungry of late.’ At least Secondo waited until after you finished but you watch nervously for Terzo’s response but he just relaxes back in his chair smirking at his brother. 

‘You are not wrong I have been kept most satisfied by Sorella.’ His double entendre makes you wince slightly but you just hope they mark it down to Terzo being Terzo. 

‘No need to tell us that we can see quite well, ' he says, patting his own distinctly flatter stomach. ‘Primo you were right to call us here today. We need to help Terzo by eating all of this food so he doesn’t have to.’ 

‘Ah ha,’ Terzo laughs. ‘So this is another intervention then no?’ Primo shakes his head but doesn’t intervene this time, deciding that this back and forth was mostly good natured.

‘Si, an intervention for your growing waistline fratello,’ On the surface it is harsh but you can tell this is familiar ground for them, teasing and competing to one up each other. You imagine there were many similar conversations had when Secondo lost his hair. 

‘I do not mind so much,’ he shrugs, resting his arm on the back of your chair and letting his fingertips graze your shoulder. ‘I think there are plenty of people who enjoy a well fed man.’ You feel your cheeks heat as he says it remembering back to your conversation and you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face, gaging your reaction. If you look at him now you are sure your cover will be blown.  Instead you hide your embarrassment by serving out salad between your plates but you miss the pointed looks shared between Secondo and Copia.  

There is a period of peace across the table as they all enjoy their food, the only conversation a series of compliments as they work their way through everything you brought. You are glad you decided to bring all the leftovers as you watched Primo using the last slices of bread to dip into the dressing, the only remains of the caprese salad and Copia groaning and rubbing at his stomach as he polishes off the last of the stuffed olives. 

‘I can see how you got so well fed Papa,’ he smiles in your direction. ‘I feel as if I could burst but I still don’t want to stop eating.’ You smile at his praise but you are pleased to see them all nodding in agreement.

‘Luckily for you Cardinal, all that is left is some taralli.’ You offer them each one, finishing off the last of your supply. 

‘You are lucky I didn’t know she had packed up this,’ Terzo grumbles. ‘Giving my favourite to these idioti.’ 

‘I will make you some more Papa, don’t worry,’ you reassure him. ‘I think I have the recipe down perfectly now if I do say so myself.’

‘Where did you get the recipe, Sorella?’ Secondo asks. He looks down at the taralli in his hand. ‘I can’t say I am an expert like Terzo here, but these taste exactly like the ones I remember. The ones your Madre used to send us, before.’ Before what you wonder? You glance between Terzo and Secondo but this time it seems they are sharing a fond memory instead of making digs at each other. 

‘I just found it online after Papa mentioned he would like them.’ You glance at Terzo but he doesn’t try to stop your white lie. 

‘It’s a shame you don’t have any of her recipes Terzo,’ He thinks aloud while eating his last bite. ‘I’m sure she had made the best food I had ever eaten.’ 

‘It is a shame, yes,’ Terzo shifts uncomfortably in his seat. ‘You know we weren’t allowed to keep anything from before.’ You look at Primo but he is staring down at his plate in defeat.

‘For what it is worth I am sorry ragazzi,’ He squeezes Secondos forearm and offers Terzo a sad smile. You feel like an intruder in this moment and as your eyes meet Copia’s you think he might feel the same. That is until you notice him tilting his head and looking at you deep in thought. You suspect piecing together the translations you asked him to look at with the conversation he had just heard. He takes in a breath looking like he is about to speak but you shake your head as subtly as you can until he clicks his mouth closed. That is a conversation for later.

‘Sorella, thank you for allowing us to share in your exquisite food,’ Primo says, drawing a line under the conversation that had just ended.

‘It is no problem at all Papa.’ You start to gather up the dishes, wishing you had brought another tray so you could give Primo back his basket. 

‘No no, leave the tidying to us please,’ he fusses, taking the pile of plates from your hands and handing them to a disgruntled Secondo. ‘Seeing how you convinced Terzo to actually come outside, why don’t you two go for a walk.’ There is a twinkle in his eye you are sure you have seen before. If the two of you hadn’t been so careful you might think he knew there was something between you. 

‘What do you say Papa?’ You feel like you finally have permission to properly look at him, and he looks breathtakingly handsome in the warm sun. ‘Shall we go for a walk?’

‘If it gets us out of doing dishes then I am in,’ he says, almost jumping up from his chair. 

‘It was good to see you Terzo,’ Primo says to him so softly it could have been missed.

‘It was good to see you all too,’ he matches Primo’s tone looking at all three of the men still sitting at the table for a moment more before turning to you with a dazzling smile. ‘Come now Sorella lets escape while we still can.’

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

The dressing you add last right at the point of serving. The jar has one last good shake before you remove the lid and pour it evenly over the whole salad. For some extra flair you start pouring at the centre and swirl until all the dressing is used. 

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

‘So that went well right?’ You are some way away from the patio so you risk moving closer, brushing your shoulders together but he doesn’t hesitate taking your hand in his.

‘Ah I suppose those nosey stronzos,’ he grumbles but there is no real bite to it, a reluctant smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

‘You know what I think?’ He only hums absentmindedly in reply, eyes following a butterfly as it dances amongst the flowers. ‘I think they missed you.’ He tips his head towards you giving you what you suspect is supposed to be an intimidating side eye but it misses its mark entirely when all you can see is the soft affection in his eyes and the sun shining off the silver grey strands running through his hair.  ‘And I think you missed them too.’

‘Bah,’ he gestures with his free hand picking up his pace as if to storm off but keeping his grip firm on you so you are forced to come with him. ‘Think you know me so well eh cara?’ It is a challenge but a playful one. There was a moment that you worried that the teasing and prodding of his brothers might have made him withdraw again but it seems that was not the case. ‘Let us see, where in this garden do you think is my favourite place?’ He stops in the middle of the path reeling you back towards him but he drops your hand to fold his arms over his chest. He thinks he has stumped you, you can tell by the smug look he is failing to conceal but you are certain you know the answer.

‘Do I get any clues?’ You ask. He thinks for a moment, tapping at the dimple of his chin.

‘It is the reason I insisted on the rooms I have.’ Maybe he thinks he is being cryptic but now you know for sure, but you don’t want to let on quite yet.

‘Ok so it is near your quarters.’ You affect a look of exaggerated deep thought and he grins at you, glad that you are playing along. Wandering slightly away from him you look about you as if looking for more clues all the while ignoring his suppressed chuckles. When the two of you spend time in his little kitchen, especially now, you spend most of your time stealing looks at one another. So often he has caught him watching you over the rim of his coffee mug except from when his attention is caught just outside his window.  Which not only gave you the chance to admire him as you so enjoy doing, but it also gave you a very good idea about his favourite part of the garden. Just in view of his window was a sculptural fountain depicting the Temptation of Eve.

‘Mmmm you are getting warm,’ he teases as you start to lead him back towards that part of the Abbey.

‘Anything else?’ You are just about to enter the walled garden when he catches up to you. He slides his arm around your waist and pulls you back against him and then lifts your hand to press a kiss to the back. 

‘It’s almost as lovely to look at as you,’ he whispers in your ear. You have to try to suppress the shivers that work your way down your spine but he is pressed so close you are sure he can feel it.  

‘Charmer,’ you chide, stepping away towards the centre of the square. ‘Stop trying to distract me.’ He reels you back in until he can rest his chin on your shoulder.  The fountain dominates the space, the nude figure intertwined with the vicious looking serpent while holding a perfect apple, poised to take a bite. 

‘You can see the fountain from the kitchen,’ you state matter of fact. You can see the very window from where you are standing visible amongst the trailing plants that climb the Abbey walls.  

‘Si and from my bedroom.’ He points towards the larger window at the end of the building as you try to orient the layout in your mind.  

‘Oh it’s like that is it,’ you tease.  

‘Hush I am trying to be sincere,’ he chides but there is no bite to it, not when he skims a kiss against your cheek. 

‘My apologies Papa.’ He clears his throat, the sound jarring in your otherwise soft conversation. ‘Terzo,’ you correct yourself. Happy now he nudges you forward until you are both standing at the edge of the splash pool and you watch for a moment, the ripples overlapping the reflection of the two of you in the water. 

‘Tell me cara mia, what brought you to this life?’ He leads you towards a bench carved into the wall surrounding this part of the garden, helping you to sit comfortably before taking a seat himself. 

‘To the Church of Satan you mean?’ It has been a long time since you thought of your life before the Ministry. 

‘Mmm,’ he hums, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

‘I was raised in the Christian Church,’ you begin. ‘For the first say fifteen years of my life that is all I knew. As I got older though I found myself questioning. Everything I wanted went against what I was taught and I just couldn’t understand why all these arbitrary rules were put in place to stop people being themselves.’ He nods along giving you his full attention. 

‘The arguments I had with my parents when I told them I wanted to go to culinary school, well it’s laughable now but I felt like my life was ending before it had even started. They were talking about me getting married and starting a family when all I wanted to do was learn and travel and live.’ Remembering that time fills you with that same frustration. They never were able to give you an answer other than it was God’s will and that was not enough for your questioning mind.  

‘So I left. I did everything I wanted to do and then one day I was working at a festival.’ He snorts, interrupting you for the first time. 

‘I can’t imagine you in a burger van,’ he sniggers to himself. You knock his shoulder with yours but that only makes him laugh harder.  

‘I was cooking for the VIP guests, thank you very much!’ You reply haughtily. In all honesty there was nothing wrong with working in a burger van, good food is good food, but you dread to think what mental image he has conjured up of you. ‘And that's where I saw Ghost for the first time and spoke to Papa Primo.’

‘Primo recruited you?’ He looks shocked and you are surprised he didn’t already know. 

‘Well I think it was more like I volunteered and he accepted,’ you explain. ‘He had requested some wacky off menu dish and I somehow managed to make something passable and he came to thank me. I joked about his costume and how I might consider joining if I ever found a real Church of Satan.’ 

‘And he told you about this place.’ he says thoughtfully. 

‘He did! I didn’t believe him at first but I came to visit first for a week or two, but it was like as soon as I walked in the doors it felt like I had found my place.’ You had felt at home for the first time in a long long time.  

‘What about your parents?’ He asks. ‘What do they think about you coming here?’

‘It took them a long long time to accept me straying from the life they wanted for me, even though they still don’t like it.’ They had only really accepted it when you had found success which always seemed ironic to you. ‘My being here? We just don’t speak of it. I’m sure they told all their church friends that I decided to join an obscure convent.’ It was a game you liked to play every now and then, wondering what they said when people at their church asked after you.

‘Ha! But here you are getting seduced by Satanic Popes,’ he lifts his eyebrows, clearly proud of his success in corrupting you from your fictional convent. 

‘I wouldn’t have it any other way.’ You roll your eyes at him but you are relieved that he joined you in finding humour in your strained relationship with your family. But it was his turn to share. ‘Now tell me why this is your favourite place.’

‘I used to come here when I felt lost.’ He looks down at his feet kicking at some lose stones. ‘When you have lost your way there is no one better than the Mother of Sin to help you remember what is important.’ It is a lot for him to admit given his leading role in the church. Many wouldn’t ever believe a man in his position could have ever had doubts. 

‘The bible says she was tricked into eating the apple, that her weak feminine mind was so easily warped by the serpent. But I think she made a choice. Perhaps she realised that if you are threatened and scared into ignorance you will never be free and that people deserve to choose for themselves what to do and what to believe.’ You sense his beliefs are as personal as they are philosophical. ‘Especially when so many things that bring people joy are supposed sins.’ 

You are reminded of sitting in the chapel and listening to him preach every word reaffirming your faith. He was an incredible leader and it makes your heart ache for him that he was removed from that position in such a humiliating way. You don’t voice this though. You have no doubt that these very same thoughts plague him but he is doing so much better now then when you had first properly met.  

‘Enough preaching for one day though I think,’ he laughs trailing off when he realises how long he has been talking and as much as you would happily listen to him talk for hours you let him leave the topic aside. ‘Where is your favourite place in the garden cara mia?’

‘Well that is easy.’ You don’t need to think for even a moment. ‘It’s the moon garden.’ He tilts his head in surprise. ‘I didn’t appreciate it at first, having all white flowers made no sense to me. One of the most beautiful things about flowers is the vivid rainbow of colours. But then one night I was leaving your quarters and I was on the verge of going to Primo and telling him I couldn’t do it.’ You remember that time well even though so much has changed since. Having to fight the urge to quit every time he rejected another meal. ‘You hadn’t eaten a thing and I was so upset with myself.

‘I owe you an apology, I think for being so difficult.’ He mumbles but the last thing you want to do is make him feel bad. 

‘No I mean you had your reasons,’ you say trying to reassure him.  

‘Maybe I did, I felt that I had nothing to live for I suppose.’ It hurts to hear but it isn’t a surprise that that is how he had felt. ‘But I could only stomach so much self pity before I got hungry.’ He winks at you and even this serious conversation doesn’t stop your instinctive blush spreading across your cheeks. 'Thank you for being patient with me.’ He follows the bloom of colour across your face with the tip of his fingers, his sincerity only making it worse.  

‘It was worth it,’ you admit, lowering your voice to match his soft tone. ‘Something told me I should walk through the gardens that night so I did and then it was like I had walked into another world. Every single white flower was glowing in the moonlight and I had to just sit and eventually I knew that everything was going to be alright.’  

‘And was it?’ His hand cups your face and even such an innocent touch has your heart racing as you work up the courage to say what you wish to.

‘The next day was the day you left me the recipe book.’ The moment feels fragile as he looks into your eyes searchingly. It feels good to have cleared the air of so many of your unspoken things. It’s probably inadvisable to allow him this close outside of his quarters but he looks as vulnerable as you feel right now and there is only one thing you can think to do. This kiss reminds you of the first time in the kitchen. The simple action of pressing your lips to his feels so intimate and for you at least, saying things you are far from ready to speak out loud. 

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

Hi hello yes it is me actually updating. Please no one die of shock. I had about 1000 words of this sitting here for the last six months and then suddenly I managed to write it all in the last three days. I want to promise there won't be another six months until the next chapter but who knows what will happen to my brain. Thank you to @ghostchems and @da-rulah for letting me talk about this endlessly and @writingjourney for cheering me on even when I wouldn't tell her any spoilers haha

I hope you all enjoyed and I will be starting a tag list over again because I have no idea who might even want to read this fic anymore so please just let me know if you want to be tagged in the future chapters 💜💜💜

Since I can’t sleep I’ll just share this adorable Secondo video I ran across on HourlySecondo on X:

I want to have him reach out to hold my hand comfortingly. Why can’t I have that? Is no fair. He is so sweet, he even forgets his English a little, here. Non si preoccupi, Papa, lei ed io ci capiremmo molto bene, le assicuro 🤍

A Nap With Secondo

~ A special edition of Naps With Copia ~

For @sodoswitchimage who needed a nap with Bone Daddy 💙

Secondo x gn!reader

The naps are all stand alone stories so you do not have to read one before the other! This series came from my post about wanting to nap with Copia all around the abbey. The stories will all have gender neutral readers and soft naps.

Warnings: reader has anxiety, Secondo being kind and soft, sfw, 1100 words (thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers!)

“I’m going to kill your brother.”

Secondo seemed unmoved, partially because he had heard this threat from you before.  When you stomped over to the couch in his office and sprawled across it with a groan he finally looked up from his work.

“Which one?”

You narrowed your eyes up at the ceiling, pondering his question for a moment before settling on your answer, “Terzo.”

He hummed thoughtfully and you heard the sound of paper being shuffled around before he finally spoke up, “Any particular reason or are you just feeling violent today?”

“You act like I come and do this all the time.”  You turned your head to look at him, frowning when you were met with a raised eyebrow.  “What?”

“I believe it was Sunday you sent me a very thoroughly researched email about, and I quote,”  Secondo put his reading glasses on while he picked up and squinted at something on his phone.  “Ah, here it is.  How you were going to “raze Primo’s gardens to the ground and salt the earth to make sure nothing would ever grow again’.”

“I’m sorry, did you have to sit through an hour-long presentation on why he needed a new greenhouse?”

“Who do you think he practiced it on?”  He took his glasses off, tossing them onto his desk and then steepling his fingers together while he regarded you with amusement.  “And then there’s Copia.”

You resisted the urge to cuss his youngest brother out.  Again.  

“Copia is lucky he’s still here and not being roasted over a fire in the pit somewhere.”

“What was that argument over again?  The touring budget?”

“It wasn’t an argument.”  You jumped up from the couch and flounced over to Secondo’s desk, only stopping when you were at his side frowning down at him.  “I just told him that if he showed up in yet another sparkly jacket I would shove those jackets so far up his a–ahh!”

Secondo was too quick for you, his arms slipping around your waist before you could move away.  With a quick tug you had fallen into his lap and no amount of wriggling was working to set you free.

“Quit that I have work to do.”

“You can’t just yank me into your lap and expect me to quiet down.”

“I’m aware, amore.  I just like having you close.”  He brought a hand up to your chin, the leather smooth and warm on your skin as he tilted your head so your eyes met.  “Even when you’re threatening to kill my family.”

“I haven't even told you what Terzo did.”

“Something bad enough to deserve whatever punishment you plan on dealing out, I’m sure.”  He leaned in and gave you a gentle kiss before letting go of your chin.  There was a smile threatening to break out on his face but you could tell he was fighting it.  “Would you like help?”

“I think it’s best if you don’t get involved.”  His chest shook behind your back with laughter and you sighed, settling back against him.  “Thank you for putting up with me.”

“There’s nothing to ‘put up’ with, amore.  I’m here for you just like you are there for me, sì?”

You nodded, the sudden lump in your throat making it hard to speak.  Secondo wrapped his arms a little tighter around you and you closed your eyes while you took deep breaths.  He was quiet as you worked on settling yourself.  Trying to calm your anxiety and frustrations from the last few days.  You felt so lucky to have him there, to have someone that understood what to do when you were feeling out of control and on edge.

You felt so lucky to have his love.

As your body relaxed Secondo started humming, nothing you recognized at first.  The warmth of his body and the security of his arms was enough to nearly lull you to sleep.  If it hadn't been for him starting to softly sing the chorus of ‘Jigolo Har Megiddo’ you would have fallen asleep right then.  You let out a little growl, wriggling in his lap again until you were free and on your feet once more.  It was impossible to keep a straight face at the sight of his grin so you spun and made your way towards the bedroom.

“Off to commit murder?”

“I’m going to sleep on it first, if that’s alright.  Maybe after a nap I’ll feel less murderous.”

You heard his chair move behind you and the steady sound of his steps coming your way.  He reached the bedroom door first, opening it for you and placing a hand on your lower back to usher you inside.

“Perhaps a nap would be a good idea for us both, eh?”  

He worked on his suit jacket and tie while you took off what you needed to in order to get comfortable.  His shoes quickly joined yours on the floor and soon you both were pressed up against each other on the bed.  You rested your face where his neck met his shoulder and took a deep breath of his cologne, the familiar scent grounding you even further.

“Have I ever told you how good you smell?”

“Only once or twice.”  

When you pulled away to look at him you could just see the pink tinge under the paint on his cheeks.  You smiled as you leaned close to kiss each one, following with a kiss to the tip of his nose and then one on his lips.  The paint was slightly bitter on your tongue, something you had grown used to but it still had you making a face.

“We’re going to be covered in your paint when we wake up.”

“I’ve been covered in worse.”  You had to hide your face against his neck again, your body shaking with laughter.  His breath was warm against your ear when he continued, “So have you.”

“Are we going to nap or do you want to keep talking about substances?”

Secondo smiled against your ear before placing a light kiss there followed by a few across your cheek until he was smiling down at your face.  You resisted the urge to say thank you again, mostly because you knew he would say there was no need for it just like he always did.  Instead you leaned up to give him a kiss on his lips before dropping back down onto the bed and settling against the pillow.

“Let your mind rest, amore.  I’ll be here to help you with whatever battle you need to fight when you wake up.”

You didn’t answer, you couldn’t answer.  Your throat was so tight with emotion, with the love you had for this man.  All you could do was get as close to him as possible, your arm tight around his waist and his own arms keeping you near.  He was humming again and that was enough to lull you to sleep feeling warm, safe and loved. 

Up next is a nap for an Anon 💙

~ Naps With Copia series masterpost ~

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

[secondo voice] am i right fellas? ...fellas?

*bangs my head against my desk, then lifts my hands into the air in a gesture of wild desperation* SECONDOOOO

Here Comes The Sun (Luleå 2011)

Gentle Hands in a Time of Discomfort

Papa Emeritus I x Reader Word Count: 2,249

Summary: Confronted by a lingering backache, you turn to Primo, discovering unexpected comfort in the simplicity of opening up.

(Or: Primo gives you a back massage.)

Tags: chronic pain, gender-neutral reader, comfort, fluff, briefest nsfw mention, primo gives you a massage, really self-indulgent A/N: I was sad and experiencing a flare-up from chronic back pain, which resulted in this. Enjoy. 🥺

AO3 Link

The sharp pain radiating from your lower back (or maybe your hip; you couldn't quite place it) made each step toward Papa Emeritus I's quarters as painful as the last.

You had been assigned to the library a few days prior, and while kneeling to return a book to a lower shelf, you felt, and heard, a sudden pop as you rose to your feet.

It hadn't hurt too badly at first, just a nagging discomfort as you continued to hobble around and carry out the remainder of your tasks. You made sure to avoid any and all shelves that were below waist height, getting one of the younger, more limber Siblings to do it for you. But by the time you returned to the confines of your room, you could barely stand.

Holding onto the edge of your desk for support, you fished through the drawer for the last of your painkillers and quickly downed them dry. It wasn't something you would typically do, but you didn't wish to retrieve your water bottle from the other side of the room. 

Sucking in a deep breath through gritted teeth, you limped over to your bed.

You knew that the most sensible course of action would have been to consult with the abbey's physician. However, your irrational thoughts had you convinced that the problem would magically resolve itself by morning.

It hadn't, of course. Which is why, after explaining to Sister Imperator (or rather, explaining to her personal ghoul, who would then relay the message to her), the reason for needing the day off, you now found yourself standing at the door of Papa Emeritus the First.

Who better to confide in about aches and pains than an elder with the wisdom to understand your discomfort and empathise with your experiences?

As your knuckles rapped against the old oak door, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night, you could feel the anticipation building. In all your time at the ministry, you'd, unfortunately, never actually spent any one-on-one time with him.

But based on your distant observations—whether it was watching him interact with the other siblings, attending one of his masses, or even as he tended to his plants in the abbey’s garden—you found him to be a gentle soul, despite his somewhat eerie demeanour, especially when he was dressed in his robes and papal face paint. 

It was why you decided to approach him rather than one of his other brothers.

After a short period of quiet, you began to consider the possibility that he had already retired for the night, a reasonable expectation given his age. However, as you started to withdraw, you heard what appeared to be the shuffling of slippers, followed by the gradual creaking of the door as it opened.

Emerging from the obscurity behind it, the face of the eldest Emeritus came into view, with the dimly lit hallway casting shadows that accentuated his weathered features. Though subtle, you noticed remnants of smudged black paint in the creases of his mouth and nose, suggesting he must have conducted mass earlier in the day. You couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment for having missed it.

"Sibling," he greeted you with a warm smile that forced the corners of his eyes to wrinkle. You found it incredibly endearing. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You opened your mouth to reply, to explain your situation, when another twinge of pain in your back stifled your words. Instinctively, your hand reached around and rested on the source of discomfort. The tablets you’d taken earlier must have been starting to wear off. “Sorry, I—”

Worry etched across Papa's face as he swiftly moved to accompany you by your side, snaking an arm around you so you wouldn’t have to bear too much weight on the side that ached. Before you could protest, he was already carefully guiding you through the door and into his quarters.

"It seems that I have already unravelled the mystery of your presence here," he quipped as you both approached a set of welcoming armchairs draped in red velvet by an impressive fireplace. The warmth radiating from it touched your face even before you sat down.

As you sank into the plush chair to your left, you breathed a sigh of relief. The pain seemed to ease somewhat—perhaps comforted by the enveloping atmosphere of the room, or maybe by the company within it. The eldest Emeritus, having released his hold on you, offered a brief, comforting rub to your shoulder before taking the seat adjacent to you. A quiet groan escaped from him on the descent, which only reaffirmed that you had come to the right person.

"Now," he began, hands casually smoothing out the wrinkles in his robe, "is this a new development, or something that has been bothering you for some time, hm?"

You explained your situation, confessing that you’ve had the occasional ache in the past, but nothing so severe that it hadn't resolved itself after a solid night’s sleep. However, this? This felt different. The fear that it might be permanent was the real reason you hadn’t sought out help yet. You didn’t want them to confirm your worry—that you would have to endure it for the rest of your life.

“I only wish I could take the burden of this pain from you, amoruccio.”

“Papa—”

“Primo, please,” he corrected you, his voice filled with a gentle insistence, “and believe me, I understand what you are going through. It has been quite some time since I experienced a life untouched by pain. However, there are ways to manage it; you do not need to suffer.”

There was a brief pause during which his gaze met yours before he continued. “But firstly, you must promise me you will speak with our physician—tomorrow, preferably.”

You gave a reluctant nod.

“Use your words. Promise me.”

How could you refuse those kind, mis-matched eyes? “Okay, yes, I promise.”

Satisfied with your response, Primo gave a content hum. 

A comfortable silence filled the space between the pair of you. You opted to shut your eyes and immerse yourself in the comforting sounds of the wood crackling in the fireplace.

You weren't completely sure how much time had passed, as you had become so engrossed that you failed to notice Primo getting up from his chair to fetch something from the kitchen. It was only when he gently nudged your arm that you snapped out of your trance.

As you looked upward, you observed him extending a glass of water and some tablets to you. You graciously accepted and promptly downed them. While you drank, Primo couldn't help but watch as droplets of water traced a path down your chin. Despite the impulse to wipe them away with his thumb, he exercised self-control.

“These are likely stronger than whatever you have. You will want to sleep shortly after taking them, which is why I offer you my bed tonight.”

“Papa—,” you quickly corrected yourself, “Primo, I couldn’t.”

“I would be deeply insulted if you refused,” his tone was playful, but you got a sense that there was truth to his words.

With a defeated sigh, the painkillers appeared to act swiftly, just as Primo had cautioned. They left you feeling too tired to muster any resistance—not that you had the inclination to in the first place. Setting the glass you had still been holding down onto the side table, you steadied yourself by gripping the arms of the chair to stand up once more.

However, Primo wouldn’t have that. He signalled for you to let go and, instead, interlaced his fingers with yours. Simultaneously, his other hand rested on the middle of your back, aiding you in rising to your feet. You were relieved to find that the pain had mostly subsided for now.

“Come,” he led you past the kitchen and towards what you assumed was his bedroom door. As you enter, your eyes are immediately drawn to the oversized bed in the centre of the room. The frame is solid and impressive, but it's not too over-the-top; it has a laid-back elegance and just the right touch of sophistication.

You couldn’t resist gliding your hand over the burgundy silk sheets as you sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Is it to your liking?” Primo asked, reaching down to retrieve something from the drawer of the bedside table closest to you. He slipped it into the pocket of his robe before you got a chance to see what it was.

“This is probably the fanciest bed I’ve ever sat on if I’m being honest,” you remarked candidly.

“Is that so?” Primo chuckled with genuine warmth, returning to your side and maintaining his stance. “You should see Terzo’s then,” he suggested offhandedly. However, in that brief moment, a shadow of regret crossed his face, as if the realisation of the impact of his words had just dawned on him. "On second thought, maybe it is best if you do not."

“Nevertheless," he carried on before you could inquire about his previous remark, "before we retire for the night, there is one last thing I would like to do for you.”

“You’ve already done more than enough,” you protested, genuinely touched by his thoughtful gestures throughout the evening. In a surprising display of boldness and wanting to outwardly express your appreciation, you reached out and held his hand with both of yours, gently rubbing your thumbs across his skin.

In response, Primo rested his other hand on top of yours. “Allow your Papa to massage your troubles away, mio dolce.”

Admittedly, the idea of indulging in a massage from the most senior Emeritus was undeniably an enticing one. While the gesture itself was not inherently sexual, it carried an intimacy that evoked a delightful flutter in the pit of your stomach and a subtle flush across your cheeks.

Yes. You would allow yourself this.

"Lie down for me then,” he instructed once you agreed, “on your stomach."

You complied, settling comfortably onto the cool sheets with your arms crossed in front of you, chin resting on top. Primo circled around to the opposite side of the bed, shuffled across, and repositioned himself beside you.

As you turned your head to face him, your lips curved into a smile. "If I may...?" he asked, his question lingering in the air as his hands hovered just above the small of your back, right at the hem of your top. In response, you not only raised it but also chose to remove it altogether—a gesture that not only made things more convenient for him but also reflected the profound sense of security you felt with Primo, a space free from any concerns of judgement.

He reached into the pocket of his robe once again to retrieve what he had placed there earlier—a small glass jar. You couldn't make out the label, if it even had one, but you assumed it was an ointment meant to soothe aches. At least, that's what you hoped for.

Primo deftly unscrewed the lid and scooped out a small heap of its contents. With a gentle touch, he began at your shoulders, his fingers moving in slow, circular motions. To your delight, each stroke was accompanied by a soothing warmth provided by the ointment. As the stress of the day melted away, you couldn't help but relax even further into the soft embrace of the bed.

He continued down your spine, focusing on a notably sensitive area in your lower back, the origin of your unease. To your horror, an involuntary moan left your lips upon contact, causing Primo to tense momentarily. Unaware to you, his body nearly gave away his reaction; beneath his robes, his cock stirred at the pleasing sound he’d unintentionally drawn from you.

"Careful,” Primo chuckled softly, “I may not possess the youth I once did, but I am still a man."

You buried your face in your arms, a mix of embarrassment and the realisation that your entire face was turning red. "’I’m so sorry," you mumbled with a muffled voice.

He waved off your apology. "Such reactions are completely natural. I consider it a compliment, my dear."

After a few minutes, the tension on your end had eased as he finished the massage, completing the final circles into your back. "There," he declared. Leaning in, he softly kissed the top of your head. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," you sighed.

Primo gave a satisfied hum and briefly stepped away from your presence to cleanse his hands of the lingering ointment. Granted, it had proven advantageous for him and the ageing joints in his fingers too. The two of you were swiftly reunited, and he passed you an additional pillow.

“Lie on your side and put a pillow between your knees; you will find that your pain will not be nearly as intense come morning.”

“Thank you, Primo.”

"Now, let us get some rest."

Repositioning for added comfort following Primo's suggestion to place a pillow between your legs, he dimmed the nearby lamp, creating a gentle and welcoming glow.

The conversation gradually faded, replaced by the rhythmic sounds of deep, steady breaths as sleep began to claim you both. The room became a haven of tranquillity, a sanctuary where the weight of the world lifted, if only for a little while.

You never wanted to leave.

Prime Mover (Download Festival 2012) For @rspitespitfield 🧡

sorry for romanticising the mundane. i have little else

oh silly little old people (i couldn't find a good reference and had to improvise a lot)

his tits are out

microdosing on self love by projecting my insecurities onto fictional characters and loving them

There is still hope. Say it out loud. Palestine will be free. The Palestinian people will celebrate their culture and heritage with each other. We will love and be loved. Do not fall into the trap of despair.

Fighting the urge to post every single new Vampire Secondo scene I'm writing as a preview so I don't already spoil the best bits 👊🏼👊🏼👊🏼

The Fluffy Papa Series: Part 1

Alyssum

A Primo Story

No plot, no drama, no sad. Just fluff. Can be slightly suggestive. Fem reader.

Tiny rocks scrape and crunch beneath your boots as you walk the pebbled path toward the Ministry greenhouse. Wisteria hangs from the lattice framed above the door, interlaced with ivy which blankets the facade and reaches with eager fingers across the roof. Potted plants litter the ground of various shapes and sizes, the stone patio wet from a recent watering. 

“Did you have a nice drink?” You question the plants, smiling softly as you continue through the greenhouse door which hangs slightly ajar as if expecting your arrival. The smell of soil and freshly cut flowers greets you upon your entrance, and you take a moment to breathe in the space. Primo’s space. 

Primo prefers to do his gardening outside, the greenhouse used mostly as a workshop and a place for his little experiments. You step around a few stray gardening tools, following your nose to the beautiful bouquet expertly potted on a little table fit with a lace cloth. You lean forward to take in the honey-like fragrance, your smile growing. Each day, a new flower. A new meaning. Primo always says each flower tells a story. And these stories are for you. 

“Alyssum,” Primo’s warmly accented voice sends a butterfly fluttering about your stomach, and you turn to watch as he takes off his soil-stained gloves, laying them casually to the side. “Worth beyond beauty. And you, my petal, are worth far more than any flower I have ever grown.” His lips twitch with a smile. “Sì, you are beautiful as well. Perhaps tomorrow will be purple heather.”

You turn and delicately pick one of the blooms from the bouquet, approaching Primo with a blushing smile. He chuckles softly, his well-used hands reaching out to settle upon your hips the moment you are close enough. You hold out the flower, “And for my Papa? Whose green thumb, clever mind, and sweet nature are invaluable. And very much loved.”

Primo hums, his hands sliding higher, fingers squeezing and massaging your sides. He lets go of one to take the bloom and bring it to his hooked nose, inhaling deeply with a gentle sigh. A slow smirk crosses his thin lips, and he bops you on the head with the flower. “Sweet, my petal? You know more than anyone how passionate my true nature can be.” Primo’s words end on a soft growl and he pulls you closer, his head dipping into the crook of your neck. You squirm and giggle against him as he bites playfully at your soft skin, soothing it with his tongue. Your hands come to settle on his shoulders and you relax in his grip, sighing gently. Your eyes flutter shut as Primo drags a wet line to the shell of your ear. “Ti amo.” 

A tiny squeak of happiness erupts from your throat, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment. Primo grins, dropping another kiss to your neck. “Hmm, my petal?” He murmurs softly. “Does that make you happy?” 

“Very happy, Primo,” you say, your voice dreamy. You place a hand on his wrinkled cheek, feeling how soft the sagging skin is under your fingertips. “Oh! And…anc…anche…io?”

“Anche io, sì,” Primo encourages, smoothing a few flyaway hairs back from your forehead. “Very good! Learning more every day, amore. I am very proud.”

“It’s just a few words,” you say a little sheepishly, glancing to the side. 

Primo catches your chin with a thumb and forefinger, drawing your gaze back to his. “A few words that make my heart sing. It’s how you are willing to learn that makes me proud, not how quickly or how well.” He tickles your side and you can’t help but laugh, the sound of your happiness warming even an old man’s cheeks. “Do not worry, tesoro. You will be able to eavesdrop on my brothers’ conversations soon enough.” Primo’s eyes twinkle as you gasp, and he swallows your rebuttal with a kiss. He tastes of rosehips.

“Did I interrupt tea time?” You ask softly when you part, your lips brushing against his as you speak, neither of you willing to part fully. 

“Interrupt? Non essere sciocca! Do not be silly. You improve it,” Primo takes your hands, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles. “Rosehips for the arthritis, il mio amore for the soul.” He brings your hands to his lips and you beam, turning your hands in his to rub gently at his aching joints. Primo smiles sweetly at you for the gesture, his grip tightening as he pulls you toward his little parlor set up in a corner of the greenhouse. 

You delicately step over pots, and watch out for his propagating babies, ducking under drying herbs, and avoiding bubbling beakers on bunsen burners. Primo walks amongst it all, well-practiced and unworried, depositing you with a kiss into your favorite high backed chair: pink, and patched, and plush. You sit contentedly as he sets about preparing fresh tea things, humming some old Italian love song as he takes out a tin of loose tea. “Il mio amore’s favorite,” he mumbles to himself with a small nod, shaking the tin as if to accentuate his point. 

“Four sugars, please!” You say, leaning back in your chair with a broad smile. Primo glances at you with a raised brow, placing the kettle on the hot plate. “Or maybe five, I’ll have to taste it first,” you continue.

“How about we make it two,” Primo chuckles, approaching your chair. He makes a gesture with both of his hands to rise, and you stand. Primo takes your seat and then slowly pulls you down onto his lap, adjusting you here and there so you’re both comfortable. “Don’t give me that pout.” His finger taps your bottom lip. “I won’t have you diluting the flavor.” 

You sigh, and in favor of replying, you nuzzle your nose into his cheek. You drape an arm loosely over his shoulders while your other hand becomes occupied greebling his ear. You press little kisses on his face, and Primo practically coos. His hands can’t decide where they want to touch, his fingers traveling up your spine, over your thighs, across your stomach. They eventually settle on cradling your face. Primo looks at you with unfettered adoration, his eyelids hooded and mouth drawn into a lovesick smile. 

“I do not know what I did,” he whispers. “To deserve you. But I will pray to Lucifer every day to keep you.”

You close your eyes and focus on the feeling of his gnarled hands on your cheeks. Your fingertips explore the wrinkled and rough skin of his face, the wiry white hairs which are barely hanging on atop his head, the divots across his forehead, and the sagging skin of his neck. Alyssum. Worth beyond beauty. Primo earned every line of his face from hard work, dedication, and a life as well-lived as any of us could wish for. And a love like his? Completely worth it.

every day this month I'm going to recommend a different spooky ghost fic! today's rec is:

The Fall Festival - @rspitespitfield - T, 3k

Get lost (and found) in the Ministry’s annual corn maze with the first Papa 🎃

"That's it. Run." He whispers to himself as his muscles tense in anticipation, the words falling on deaf ears as your foot steps mix with the crunch of gravel further and further away. But the chase has only just begun.

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, leave kudos and/or comments!

(browse the other rectober posts here.)

I'm so obsessed with Secondo using my dove as a pet name for his love because to him it represent a sort of innocent optimism, a sign of positive change in his life, reprieve from the banality and the aversion he holds for his duties in the senior clergy, freedom and relief from his own trauma and deep-rooted pain as well as a calmer state of mind and making peace with his past to move into a happier future. The first time he uses it it just feels right. And he is a romantic, he wants you to feel the implications of his use of the name, enunciating it in a way that makes the word heavy with how much emotion it carries. This man has more devotion in his little finger than others carry in their whole body. There is no way you won't feel utterly loved by him at all times.

Am I over-analyzing my own HCs? Maybe.

for the Halloween-esque prompts!

something TOOTH-ACHINGLY fluffy with secondo 🎃 out of all the papas he seems to have the most pictures with kids, so I have a headcannon that he loves to be around them & even participate in their mischief every once in a while. Maybe he and reader help the kids at the Abbey with apple picking? Or help them put on their costumes/face paint/wigs for Halloween? have fun with it!

this hurt my teeth writing it! some suggestive language…

Secondo is so focused, moving the brush with such precision as he applies the facepaint. His brows are furrowed, lip pressed into a thin line, squinting to make sure he gets the pattern just right. He sits back in his chair and looks over his work, tilting his head while a hand rests on his chin as his eyes follow the delicate lines. You watch him from the other room and find yourself with a dreamy smile playing on your lips.

“You are all done, Giacomo.” Papa grumbles and sets down his brush then gestures towards a nearby mirror. The child happily turns to the mirror, looking cheek to cheek and smiling ear to ear.

“Papa, I look just like you!” Giacomo exclaims, turning back to look at Secondo, his eyes shining brightly.

“Si, si. Now, go get your costume on. Mass is soon.” His voice is the same as how he would speak to adults, stern and deep, but children seem to be unphased by the threatening nature of it. You like to think it’s because he speaks to them like actual people.

“Grazie, grazie, Papa!” Giacomo chirps before scrambling out of the room. You come up behind Secondo as he starts organizing his brushes, draping your arms around his shoulders. He gives a content sigh, relaxing against your touch.

“How many children are going as Papa Emeritus the Second?” You purr in his ear.

“Six.” Secondo answers then pulls himself to his feet, slipping from your grasp with a sly grin. “Helped pochi cardinali too.” He smoothes out his robes as his eyes flicker over your body. “This is your costume?”

“What, is it not up to your standards?” You frown and fold your arms over your chest. Admittedly, you didn’t try very hard, opting to wear all black (which isn’t too different from your daily outfits) and a witch’s hat.

“You won’t win the costume contest.”

“The costume contest is for kids.” Silence hangs in the air for just a moment until you cannot hold back giggles any longer. You love when he’s playful like this and you can tell it’s because it’s his favorite time of year.

“Halloween Mass is extremely sacred, amore.” Secondo teases as he starts to stalk closer to you. “We have to appease the spirits.”

“Well, maybe you should paint my face, then.”

“We don’t have enough time for that.” His voice sounds buttery smooth as he towers over you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Do you have the unholy offering?” You hold up the bag of candy you put together and he takes it, rifling through it with a gloved hand. “Hmm… you’ve put together a good selection.” He holds the bag firmly in his hand and reaches out to you with his free one. “Shall we go celebrate the undead?”

The chapel is decorated top to bottom with black and orange streamers, bat decals, broomsticks and more. You work to organize the babbling, excited children into a single file line. Secondo looms in front of the children, back to looking stoic and authoritative, but you know it’s just an act for his audience.

The children of the abbey go up one by one, uttering the sacred words of the unholy spirit (“trick or treat”) to receive their offering from Papa. You are Papa’s helper and you make sure each child has their own time to be with him, though there are some times you get distracted by the sweetness of it all. He bows down to each child, close enough so that he can hear them, and asks them how they are honoring the dead this year.

The truth is, Papa doesn’t have to do any of this. It’s not his responsibility to ensure the children of the abbey have fun Halloween, but it warms your heart to see him here, playing along and enjoying himself. It’s Giacomo’s turn and you can’t help but smile ear to ear at his incredibly accurate Secondo costume.

“Ah, Papa.” Secondo bows his head to him. “I should be asking you for your blessing.” He offers a small smirk as he gives Giacomo a few pieces of candy, and one extra — for good luck. His eyes fall to you watching him and you’re unable to stop yourself from swooning.

Maybe you’ll let him paint your face later.

Better late than never right? …….Right?!

The last sentence I wrote:

Like a lamb to slaughter here in an isolated office, tucked away in the corner of the Ministry.

From a steamier Secondo WIP 👀👀 We’ll see if it ever leaves the grips of my word docs

Thank you for the tag @copias-sewer-rat and @ghostchems ♡

RULES: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

He doesn’t fight the amused smile that tugs at his lips as he carefully extracts the expensive lighter from your hands, slipping it back into the pocket of his slacks. 

This is from my vampire Secondo fic :)

tagging: @leezlelatch , @causticjuice , @rspitespitfield , @sweatandwoe (only if you want to/haven't done it yet of course) ♡

how much filth is too much filth for a 10k word chapter? asking for a friend 👀

what do you mean hes fictional. i need him

im not defending myself against a vampire. suck away gorgeous

this is a PSA for fic writers who haven't updated in a while :

there are fics out there I'm subscribed to that have gone double digit months without updating.

rest assured the moment those babies catapult an AO3 email my way i'm dropping from the face of the earth to sink my teeth into them

i'll wait, and so will your readers

The Fall Festival || Primo

Get lost (and found) in the Ministry’s annual corn maze with the first Papa 🎃

Contents: ≈ 3K words, SFW if you’re not a coward, primal kink if you squint, Vampire?Primo, Primo x gn!Reader

The first in my Autumnal Papa collection to celebrate the season and Halloween!

Your shoulders slump down as you round yet another corner of the labyrinth. A dead end. More corn. Dry husks of leaves crackled like TV static in your ears as you purse your lips in attempt to focus and retrace your steps. How many right turns had you taken? Left? Counting how many times you had run in to impenetrable walls of crops was useless, more times than you had fingers by this point surely. How long had you even been in this corn maze now?

Blood starts pumping through your body just a bit faster as you study the sky, how much darker had the orange clouds gotten? Had it been this cloudy when you arrived? Would it be dark soon? No phones or flash lights were allowed in the maze and all of a sudden every stalk of corn had begun to feel like its own living entity, crowding together and creeping in on you like a pack of over zealous hyenas stalking a gazelle.

Slow down, think rationally. Inhale through your nose, then exha-

The sharp splintering of snapping twigs and hay over gravel stiffen your spine within a fraction of a second, the swift river that was once running rampant through your veins suddenly curdles under your skin as the warmth of weathered palms settle over your shoulders.

“Dolce mostro, it is only I.” The air that had been lodged in your throat suddenly escapes as the familiar, accented drawl reaches your ears.

Swiveling on your heel to face him, the flicker of a pout crosses your face as you let out a huff. Papa Primo must have wandered off at some point during the past ten minutes when you had rapidly walked the aisles, swearing up and down that you definitely knew where you were leading him this time. And then still had the nerve to sneak up and frighten you like that right after!

Without hardly a moment to process the events of the past 60 seconds, you were taken aback by the sudden light touch of Primo’s hand against your face. A warm, damp streak wiped under his thumb over the height of your cheek bone. Not that you maybe had shed a tear or two, no you weren’t crying because you weren’t scared. You were in a field, dust got in your eye. Or something like that.

“It is not very becoming of a young monster to be so spooked, eh?”

Even if his words were a playful jab, his voice felt like a soothing balm, smoothing and curling over the rough edges of your nerves.

A wrinkle of concern marks his brow as he swipes the green make up from your face off from his thumb and on to his opposite palm where he rubbed his hands together to warm them before grasping on to your shoulders. The expression doesn’t last long without his gaze softening as he takes in your painted face once more.

Roughly an hour had been spent earlier that evening, batting your eyelashes at the older man and giving him your best pleading puppy dog eyes in attempt to sway him into giving in to your wishes. You wanted to dress up in costume together, be in spirit while you walked the course of the Autumn Festival.

Eventually, at your rather dedicated insistence, Primo gave in. And although it was far from out of character, you had to admit that he did look a bit out of place now in the fields with a dark colored tail coat draped over a smooth, red satin vest and a frill collared shirt that was only barely more ruffled than his usual garb.

You had rolled your eyes at his dress choice that past afternoon. Io sono Dracula, he had uttered in a feigned rasp of a whisper as he slinked towards you sat in front of the mirrored vanity, he had hardly even succeeded in leaning down towards your neck before being swatted away. Only a few more flutters of your eye lashes were needed to gain his help when you requested he put on your face paint as a favor. He was the expert, after all. 45 minutes later and you had been transformed with creamy green cosmetics applied with sweeping brush strokes, a few gentle smudges with the heel of his hand. So what if your lip stick came off with a little kiss mark or two on his cheek? That was the price to pay to become Frankenstein’s Monster.

Now that once vibrant face paint had dulled over the hours, cracking through your laughter and now smeared over your cheeks as you stared defiantly up at your Papa.

“I wasn’t scared.”

“No, no. Of course not, amore.” Normally the soothing coo of his voice would be comforting, but the bare minimum effort being put in to hiding the teasing smirk growing on his face put that illusion to rest immediately.

“Molto coraggioso.” It was futile to try to resist leaning in to Primo’s hand as he smoothed back your hair lovingly and your eyes drifted closed momentarily before remembering that he still was in fact teasing you when his voice practically purred next to your ear.

“Come now then, I know the way out.” The sentence came out so casually that for a moment you could only stand and stare in bewilderment as he patted your shoulder and turned to walk in the opposite direction. Primo had given up his guidance right at the entrance of the maze and told you to take the reins. Had this god forsaken old man just accepted the aimless wandering this whole time and said nothing?

“I know you did not believe I would allow us to be lost, mio sole.” He commented with a dry chuckle after you had finally swallowed your pride and followed his lead, trailing behind by several feet while peeking around each corner that was passed by. All pouty comments were withheld, even if all you really wanted to do was ask how much better he thought he was if he still allowed the two of you to delve in so deeply into the fields. He could be interrogated once you were a safe fifty feet from this unnerving excuse of a bonding activity.

Time moved slower and slower as the corn stalks blurred together, seeming to grow even taller as the rays of the sunset began to diminish. It had only taken a few minutes of retracing your steps to lose track of the never ending twists and turns of the maze. Gradually you crept closer to Primo, now almost following directly in his footsteps while grasping at the sleeve of his jacket. The arm that he wrapped around your torso is of little comfort as yet another corner is rounded to be met with a dead end.

An unexpected warm breath against your ear cements you into place, the gentle nuzzle of an arched nose against your jaw without being given a chance to process. Primo’s face buried in the crook of your shoulder may have been enough to hide Cheshire cat grin growing over his face but nothing could conceal the shiver that ran down your spine at the feeling of his leather clad finger tips teasingly trailing over your sides.

“Are you plotting something? I thought you knew where we were going.”

“Hmm?” A soft hum reverberates from his chest while he trails his lips over the corner of your jaw, evidently unbothered by your doubts. The chill of the autumn air was quickly rivaled by simmering heat that pushed through your veins upon being pulled closer to Papa followed by a tantalizing flick of his tongue over your ear lobe.

“Tell me, how does that old folk legend go? Of being caught in the wilderness with a vampire?”

“As much as I would adore a retelling, we need to get going. Everybody else we started with has already left us in the dust.”

“Precisely. All the better, no? No one around to hear you gasping for me.” Every nerve in your body tingled, whether it was from the adrenaline of being lost at night or Primo’s words was impossible to differentiate.

His fingers gently trace over the edges of your face as if to wipe away the smudged makeup but the question of if he simply intended to make it even worse arose when a smug smirk came over his face.

"I quite like a little fright on your face." He whispers, his tone taking on a darker, more seductive turn as his thumb brushed over your lower lip before moving back down over the nape of your neck.

“There is nothing wrong with trembling at the thought of what lurks in the dark..” the fluttering of his breath over your skin is enough to coax out a whine while Primo presses in closer to you, crowding over your figure with his own.

“After all, what is prey who is not fearing of the hunt?”

“Is that what you’re doing? Hunting me?” The opportunity to taunt him while he’s on his high horse is impossible to resist and you jump on it, eager to gain back your confident footing. An amused laugh, dark and creaking comes from Primo as the grip on your sides just under your ribs tightens.

“Of course I am, amore.” His nose runs along the vein of your neck in a way that was enough to believe he could drink in your scent in a single breath.

“And I will always catch you.” The threat falls at the small of your throat, as sharp and pointed as the fangs of the creature your Papa imitated. Barely audible whispers breeze against your skin causing goose bumps to wash over your flesh even more effectively than the autumn chill in the air.

“Always watching you. Pursuing you. Always chasing you.”

“Have you forgotten, piccolo mostro?” The small sliver of space between you felt electrified, your breath caught frozen in your throat.

“This is the part where you run.” That rolling R vibrated a blooming fear into your chest, and with one well timed glance only to see the satisfied smirk on the man’s face, you bolted in to the endless twists and turns of the maze.

"Oh, Girasole, where do you think you're going?" Primo laughs as he watches your retreating figure take off, the sound thick and near menacing as it reached your ears. Always playing hard to get, but Primo was not one to let that stop him from having his way.

"That's it. Run." He whispers to himself as his muscles tense in anticipation, the words falling on deaf ears as your foot steps mix with the crunch of gravel further and further away. But the chase has only just begun.

All at once the Papa's instincts kick into gear as he races after you, weaving through the rows of maize while his eyes scan every angle possible to track any sign of movement that didn’t originate from the ground underneath his feet. With every move he makes, his breath catches as he chases after his prey, his heart still thundering in his chest well after pausing to listen for any hint of motion. The faint rustling of dried leaves feels closer to an assault on his ears considering the silence that had now blanketed the field and the pursuit resumes once more as Primo stalks closer to the barrier that separated him from his prize.

Several yards over, just mere rows away the searing burn in your legs finally demanded that you stop to calm the panting breaths that were heaving from your chest. Spinning around to try and gain your bearings seemed fruitless, every intersection of this place was identical to the untrained eye. The thought of surrendering to whatever your Papa had in mind grew more appealing as your head sunk into your hands in an attempt to focus on what routes you had already taken, from entering the maze up to now. Had you passed the scarecrow that sat guarding its own pumpkin head at the dead end to your left before? It’s carved grin seemed to mock you and without a second thought your shoe connects to the side of it with a quiet thud and a grunt of frustration.

“What’s wrong? Can’t find your way out?” Immediately your head snaps up but no time is wasted searching for the source of the taunt, instead opting to rush directly into the wall of corn next to you regardless of what was supposed to be a blockade. There’s a flurry of footsteps and a grumbled accusation of cheating but nothing, no one, trails behind you as you continue to push your hands through the crowded corn stalks. Rigid stems whip across your face and forearms relentlessly with a force that was almost certain to leave sore welts once the adrenaline filled excitement wore off.

The thrill of this renewed game of cat and mouse begins to wane as the realization of having no idea where Primo was hiding hits you. Perching precariously on top of a tree stump a few feet away allows you to stick your head above the top of the maze, hunting the hunter. Without the sight of any movement to give away his location, you settle on swiveling around to see if any route to the finish line can be found. If you kept testing your luck pushing through the walls it would be almost a straight shot, but the noise of doing so is a dead give away itself. A blurred flash of red in the corner of your eye freezes you in place, the wood beneath your feet now more like a sticky glue trap than a look out as you rapidly cycle through your options.

Now that your research time had been cut short, simply memorizing the path to freedom seemed as good of a bet as any and you hop back down to the ground as quietly as possible while repeating the directions to yourself. Left, straight, right, left, straight, then right once more. Then you were done. You win. You would win and could hold it over Papa’s head, gloat a little, see what you could get away with and the possibilities brought a blush to your cheeks.

Getting through the first three intersections was easy enough, effortless, even considering the way your lungs were practically begging for relief once more. Your wits returned after that second left turn and an eerie quiet washed over the fields once more. With how quickly the nagging feeling of being watched was building you nearly expected Primo to pop out from right behind you once more. The once gentle autumn wind had built into what felt more like a glacial freeze as the sun went down while the only sources lighting your path now was the strings of small bulbs hung through the sides of the maze. It was getting harder and harder to differentiate between the rustle of a breeze and foot steps creeping up on you.

All of 50 feet and one more turn was all that was separating you from victory but it still felt a world away from where you stood in place like a statue, fervently wringing your hands and listening to the chatter of drunken festival goers that were beginning to drown out any hope of pinning down the location of your Papa. Keep going straight. One more right turn.

A few stalks of corn being violently shaken roused your attention back into the real world, the sound carried through at least a few turns, hopefully. He was trying to weed you out, scare you out of the corn with enough noise to make you think he had found you. The threat was enough to jolt you back into movement, sprinting on through the intersection and hanging that very last turn in the matter of a minute.

Rows of glowing Jack-o-lanterns with crooked expressions marked the approach to the exit and a preemptive smug sense of confidence took over you. You slowed down as the crowd’s noise filtered back in, gleeful couples of love birds and groups of people passing by the tiki torches that were lit at the end of the path. One young teenager even stopped to cheer for you as she saw you approach, clapping her hands and whooping dramatically before her face contorted into a grimace. Did you really look that rough? Sure that run through the corn probably did a number on you but you couldn’t look that bad..

As quickly as that confidence had appeared, it went up in flames in an instant when the air was drained from your lungs in a vice grip. Greedy fingers latched onto your sides as you stumbled backwards with a swift yank of your weight.

“Caught you, amore.” A familiar growl rumbled like thunder in your ear and sent a trembling shiver down your spine as his body pressed against you.

“You’re mine.”

Eat me

And with this, we have three out of four works completed. Only Copia is missing, and then maybe a couple of extras, even if just rough drafts (nobody believes that, cough cough). In the time-lapse of this, you can see my inner struggle to want to insert myself, the nun had a face twice, and I really had to contemplate leaving her without one. I think at the end of the series, I'll explain the purpose of the miniseries for those who are interested, but for now, I'll just say that the reason is that I want to kiss old men on the lips.

And now, it's late, and I should sleep, but I'm thinking of a collection of short fanfiction stories between the Popes and the Sisters. Or between the Popes and the readers. The voices in my head are very loud tonight, I have to go to bed.

If you like it, let me know, if you leave shameless comments, I appreciate them, they're worth as much as a tip. If you also want to kiss old men on the lips, let's start a club.

The Dance

Pairing: Papa Emeritus II/Female reader

Warnings/Content: No warnings; 1k+ words.

Additional Tags: Fluff Comfort, Dancing, Slow Dancing, Oneshot

Please see end of work under the cut for italian translations!

Read on AO3!

Through the hallways of the ministry, your nervous footsteps echoed. Bouncing with anxious energy; dancing through the air with excitement. As you approached the chapel, your mouth became dry, and your breathing could barely keep up with the fluttery beats of your heart.

Papa Emeritus Secondo waited for you in the safe darkness of the ministry's chapel.

Through the hallways of the ministry, your nervous footsteps echoed. Bouncing with anxious energy; dancing through the air with excitement. As you approached the chapel, your mouth became dry, and your breathing could barely keep up with the fluttery beats of your heart. And you got closer…

closer…

You closed the door of the chapel behind you, and were welcomed by the sound of classical music and the comforting glow of candlelights. Next to the pulpit, his imposing figure stood proud, lighting up the final candles with the utmost care before he softly blew on the matchstick he held between his fingers. 

“You are late, carissima”, says he with a stern voice turning around with elegant confidence; his eye contact leaving you frozen in place for a moment. Taking your breath away for an instant. 

“I’m sorry Papa. I truly tried to be here on time. I really did, but…”

Secondo shakes his head, lifting his gloved hand to stop you from talking further. 

“It’s important to be here on time, per favore, carissima… ne abbiamo parlato”, Secondo reprimands you, emphasizing with his hands, palms put together. As you bow with regret and several apologies leaving your lips, he looks at you with a mischievous smile. Punctuality was important for him, but seeing you become somewhat flustered at his little comment made the slight inconvenience worth it. He could tease you like this, and you didn’t even know it. He knew you would never be punctual, no matter how many times he told you. Piccola ribelle.

“Prova un po’ meglio la prossima volta, si?” Said the Papa, slowly approaching you. His mismatched gaze never leaves your face for a second; secretly taking in your features that have delighted him for quite a while now.

“I will, I promise.”

The Papa silently acknowledges your words with a nod, this time disguising his mischievous enjoyment a little better. He put his arms up, waiting for you to follow him. “You practiced, I assume? You know that the ritual is very close, mia carissima” His voice is now soft, almost intimate. You cleared your throat in an attempt to bring your focus back to the current moment. 

“I have, Papa. As you instructed”, you replied, gently placing your hand on his grasp while the second emeritus took this as an invitation to hold your lower back. “Brava, bellissima.” Secondo closed the distance between you two, and he was now close, so close to your ear. To your neck. “Sei pronta?” He whispered. And oh! How you shivered, his voice sending electricity down your spine with each one of his exhales. You nodded as you felt yourself grow feverish. Calm down, calm down.

“Remember, cara. 1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3…” Said the Papa as he started to lead. The smell of his cologne overloading your senses. The feeling of his warmth putting you in a trance.

The music, that now bounced off the walls of the chapel, felt nice and tingly against your ears; reverberating through your arms, and rippling through your legs with every dance step. “Let the music guide you…” Secondo continued, moving your body with the same ease an orchestra conductor would lead his ensemble. Both of your figures followed the climactic notes, dancing through the dark chapel as if you were a flowing river. 

“Perfetta, perfetta… you are fantastic, cara!” Smiled Secondo at your development “I told you that practice makes perfect, did I not?” You felt your chest beam with pride at the Papa’s compliments. You were well acquainted with his stern demeanor and his high standards. A type of perfectionism that was extended in every direction, including himself. Getting a compliment from him was, in fact, no easy task… but this…this was deeply special to you. “Thank you, Papa. Truly.” The song was coming to an end, and Secondo started to slow down his pace, while you followed suit. He now looked into your eyes as he continued the final part of this dance. You repressed a gasp at the sudden eye contact, struggling to maintain his gaze; your eyes looking everywhere else but him.

“No, no… continua a guardarmi, cara” “But…”

“Do as I say, carissima. It will be done at the ritual, might as well practice now, don’t you think?” Oh, for sweet Sathanas… your blood was pumping strongly through your veins, as you could barely look into his eyes. You swallowed, trying to remove the strong lump forming in your throat, in futile hopes that the nervousness pooling at the pit of your stomach would dissolve magically. You were wrong, to your dismay.

Secondo smirked somewhat amused.

“I can feel you shivering, cara” He whispered “Is the presence of your Papa making you nervous?” “Not at all” Your voice slightly trembled “Perhaps nervous at messing up.” “So you say” He chuckled, taking note of the crimson color that now came alive on your cheeks, your lips, your fingertips…

He wondered how sweet your lips would taste against his. How warm you would feel against his embrace, how your body would react to his touch. “You have nothing to worry about” He added, bringing himself out of that momentaneous distraction “You have become quite the skilled dancer, and something tells me you might end up teaching me in the future. Teaching this old man his own tricks” “Maybe so” you replied playfully, making the Papa raise an eyebrow with curiosity. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Tu, piccola piantagrane” He smirked.

As the music came to a lull, Secondo stayed in place holding you while looking into your eyes. The beating of your heart syncing with his. You felt as if you could not break away from the strong spell of his gaze, even if you wanted to.

“Ti rigranzio per questo ballo…” He brought the back of your hand to his lips, as he placed a kiss with fervent eyes. “The honor is mine, Papa” You said softly, wishing his lips were against yours. Yearning for something more than just this tonight.

After a moment, the second Papa breaks the silence with a proposition. “What do you say, shall we have another dance?” Said Secondo, as he brought his hands up once more “Remember what I said about practicing, si?” “Yes, yes” You rolled your eyes in playful exasperation. “But just one more, hm?”

“No rush, cara. The night is still very young…” Translations: "Carissima/Cara": Dearest/Dear "Per favore, carissima… ne abbiamo parlato": Please dearest… we talked about this "Piccola ribelle": Little rebel “Prova un po’ meglio la prossima volta, si?”: Try a little better next time, yes? "Brava, bellissima.": Good job, beautiful “Sei pronta?”: Are you ready? "Perfetta": Perfect "Continua a guardarmi, cara": Keep looking at me, dear “Tu, piccola piantagrane”: You little troublemaker "Ti rigranzio per questo ballo": I thank you for this dance

self care is writing a fic that you’re literally the sole target audience for

The Prince

Part Four: The Herbalist (ao3 // part one // part two // part three)

Vampire Terzo x F!Reader, Special Guest Star Primo

Summary: You and Terzo hit the road and head for Primo's. It goes about as well as expected. (13000 words [I know. I have a problem] and not beta read because frankly, that's a lot to ask.)

Tags/Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, horror themes, vampire violence, neck biting, blood, blood drinking, major character injury, hurt/comfort, SMUT, and more tags on ao3

banner by my dear dear friendo @ramblingoak. Thank you for absolutely everything.

There was nothing around for miles. It was just you and an endless expanse of highway etched into the bright green splatters of forest that only seemed to exist between cities anymore. You’d spent the last several hours speeding past fireworks warehouses and billboards for adult video stores in the absolute middle of nowhere. A cheap pair of sunglasses purchased at a truck stop larger than the high school you’d attended kept the sun out of your eyes. The pair you purchased for Terzo rattled away in the cupholder next to your knee.

Following a short conversation on the nature of werewolves, he had moved into the backseat and passed out. He curled up tight like a cat trying to make itself as small as possible, a cheap blanket pulled over his head to keep the sun off his face. He’d been unusually quiet for most of the drive, so it didn’t surprise you too much when he crawled back there with little more than a mumbled explanation. It wouldn’t have bothered you, but quiet was so out of the ordinary for him you couldn’t help but worry.

The hours of sitting combined with the soft drone of the engine and the otherwise silent drive did nothing to help you stay awake. After what felt like an eternity, you finally found a place with the right combination of populated enough to go unnoticed and shitty enough to be ignored.

Terzo didn’t move at all as you threw the car into park, groaning at the dull ache in your knees. You reached over, tucking the blanket tighter around his shoulders as he shivered.

“Terzo? I’ll be right back, ok?”

When he didn’t respond you forced yourself out of the car. The least you could do was get him to a bed.

You exchanged a few words and some cash with the motel manager, finding another delicate balance between don’t wanna know and paid enough to forget. People in places like these had seen enough already, heard every sad story or fake name anyone could come up with and you didn’t have the time or energy to pretend to explain away the bruises on your face.

With a room secured, you ducked into the truck stop next door to grab supplies. Your skin itched as soon as the car left your field of vision, but you figured it was better to keep Terzo and his blood soaked sweater far from view. You thumbed through a few novelty t-shirts and souvenir hats as you made your way around and loaded up on snacks and water. There was no Michelin star, but the truck stop offered something resembling hot food and you weren’t about to be picky.

Terzo stirred, grumbling softly as you settled back into the car and parked closer to the room you’d been assigned.

“Bellezza?” he asked, his voice weak and slightly hoarse. “Where are we?”

“Uh, not sure exactly. But it’ll do for the next few hours at least. C’mon, sexy,” you chirped as you hopped out, trying to keep the mood light. You tucked the plastic bag under your arm, balancing the snacks and water on your hip as you popped open the door by his head.

He sat up and frowned, wincing as the sun shone brightly behind you. “How far?”

“A few feet, maybe ten? We’re just right there,” you offered, pointing at the door to the room.

“Bellezza, I need you to go open the door.”

You shrugged and turned the keycard over in your hand as you walked toward the door. The lock had barely clicked out of place, its electronic parts grinding through years of overuse to flash that green light when Terzo rushed past, shoulder-checking you at inhuman speed. You followed him in, opening your mouth to complain and letting it snap shut when you realized he was cowering in the corner. Moving as fast as you could, you kicked the door shut and spun around to pull the curtains closed.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Terzo, are you—”

“I’m fine, cara,” he insisted, cutting you off too quickly to really be believable. “Just a little weak is all.”

“Do you need anything?”

“Just to rest,” he replied with a light laugh. His knees popped loudly as he stood, the long drive having no mercy for his joints either. He looked around the dusty room, a sly smile spreading across his face. “One bed, eh? You are warming up to me.”

“Are you sure you’re ok?”

He crawled up on the bed with a sigh and shot you his best attempt at a serious look. “I’ll be better when you join me, bellezza.”

You rolled your eyes at his suggestive eyebrow raise and placed the overstuffed plastic bag on the table by the window. After poking around for a moment, you found the shirt you’d grabbed for him inside.

“Take that off,” you said and motioned to your once prized and now disgusting sweater.

He grinned as he whipped the bloody shirt across the room. “Should we discuss a safe word—ah!”

The balled-up t-shirt hit him right between the eyes.

“What is this?” he asked, pouting slightly.

“It’s for you to wear.”

His pout turned into a deep frown as he examined the shirt. “Bellezza…”

“Yes?” you replied innocently.

“This is funny to you?” he asked, pulling the thing over his head.

It was ill-fitting in so many ways, far too short and too baggy for his frame with a stretched-out neckline and sleeves that went to his elbows. But the thing that had made you buy him that shirt was spelled out right there on his chest in huge letters.

Garlic Bread Slut.

You bit your lip and turned away from him. “Nope. Not funny at all.”

His arms slid around your waist as he pressed himself against your back and leaned in close to your ear. “Oh, I think you like it.”

“I think you have a really odd way of resting,” you countered as you dug through the bag for your food. “You should lay down.”

“Such a tease,” he chided as he released you, but kept his chin on your shoulder. “What in Satan’s name is that?”

You shrugged and tossed the container’s plastic lid onto the table. “I think its spaghetti?”

“No, bellezza. That is an abomination. Please tell me you’re not going to eat that.”

“What? You don’t wanna share?”

He grumbled as he moved away from you to settle on the bed. You climbed up on the other side, folding your legs under yourself as you poked at your subpar mystery pasta. Terzo curled up next to you, his eyes heavy as he watched you chewing slowly. With a soft smile, you turned and handed him the remote.

“What’s this for?”

“You should find one of your movies so you can sleep,” you suggested.

“But…you hate those.”

“Yeah, but you don’t,” you replied as you reached over him to grab a serving of disturbingly cold garlic bread. “Hey, does garlic—”

“No,” he said quickly and stole a bite from your bread. “Oh, that’s awful.”

“Serves you right, you little shit,” you teased with a laugh.

He frowned deeply as he chewed, clearly regretting his decision. He flipped through a few channels to distract himself, occasionally making a disgusted face and sticking his tongue out much like a child would. He managed to find a cable version of some romcom you vaguely remembered, something with lead actors the general population would’ve known instantly. He could probably recite their entire filmographies, but you were stuck squinting at the male actor wondering if his hair had always looked like that.

Around twenty minutes passed, most of them filled with noisy commercials instead of the movie Terzo was trying to watch. It didn’t matter anyway—he could barely keep his eyes open longer than a couple of minutes. Again he mumbled through the excuse that he was just tired, waving you off when you asked.

If he was going to insist that he was fine, you could go on about your business as well. You slipped off the bed and circled back to the bag still laying on the table.

“Where are you going?” he asked, tiredly raising his head the same way a sleepy puppy would.

“To brush my teeth.” You dug the new toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste from the bag, waving it around as proof.

“Ah, garlic.”

“Got you one too,” you added with a wink and dropped the brush with the purple handle on his chest as you walked by.

He clutched the packaging like a bridesmaid who just caught the bouquet, sighing dramatically. “Bellezza, I didn’t know you cared!”

“What, about your breath?” you teased. “If I don’t take care of the garlic bread slut, who will?”

He pushed himself up with a grunt. “Cara mia, I’ll take care of you. Twice.”

“Not if you don’t brush your teeth,” you quipped, scrunching your nose at him. You set about brushing your own teeth, watching him drag himself from the bed in the mirror’s reflection. You shot him a little smile before returning to your task and daydreaming about all the sleep you were about to get.

There was a thud behind you, loud and heavy enough to be heard over your efforts. You glanced up at the mirror and realized it was the sound of his body hitting the floor.

You screamed his name and tossed your toothbrush into the sink before rushing over to him. Pulling his head into your lap, you began frantically patting at his face. “C’mon, wake up Terzo,” you begged, tears stinging your eyes. “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. No, no, no. Please. Terzo, I don’t know how to help you.”

His eyes fluttered open, unfocused as he looked up at you. He grabbed ahold of your wrist to keep your hand pressed to his face. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. You just—” You stopped short as you gazed down at him. His face was gaunt, the hollows deepening to gather more shadow as you watched helplessly. In the few seconds since you’d left him his skin dulled, turning a lifeless greenish gray under your fingertips. “No, no, no—”

His grip tightened around your wrist. “Bellezza, I need—”

“Yeah, ok.” You nodded quickly and thrust your other wrist in front of his face.

He pushed your hands away and scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over them in his haste. He shook his head, taking several steps backward until he was pressed against the door. “No,” was all he said, his tone firm. “I won’t. Not you.”

“Terzo, I’m not sure we have any other options here—”

“You don’t understand what you’re offering,” he growled, his white eye glowing as he fixed you with a serious look.

“Oh, so you can steal my garlic bread, but you’re too good for my blood?”

“Ragazza sciocca, it’s not that simple!” he shouted.

“Don’t fucking yell at me for trying to help you!” you shouted back.

“You can’t help me. You need to leave.”

“Are you fucking kidding? Terzo, there are still people after us. I’m not going to leave you here like this.”

“I will be fine,” he grunted as he threw himself back on the bed, sinking into the pillows.

“Terzo, stop. You can barely move; you can’t even go outside—”

“I will wait until dark then—” he snapped at you.

“And do what?” you yelled helplessly. “Crawl across the parking lot and hope someone gets close enough? You can’t even walk now; how bad will it be at nightfall? Just get it over with. I’ll be fine.”

He started to laugh, grimacing through the pain. “You really don’t know anything about vampires, do you?”

“That’s not fucking fair—”

He leaned up on his hands and knees, moving toward you slowly. “Bellezza, if you let me do this…” he started softly, averting his eyes to a spot on the carpet. “If I take from you, it will mark you for the rest of your life. Do you understand that? Do you know what that means?”

You shook your head.

He sat back and reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. “You and I…there would be…it would mark you as mine, cara.”

“What, like property?” you scoffed.

“No, it’s not as barbaric as that. It’s…there is a bond created—"

“So, everyone you snack on is just yours?”

He shook his head. “That’s different.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re different, bellezza.”

You didn’t completely understand what he’d meant, but it hit you like a punch to the gut just the same. You dropped onto the bed, trying and failing to decipher what the fuck he was trying to tell you. “Terzo, I don’t…”

“No one else could touch you,” he added softly, picking at the scratchy duvet. “Which could be good or bad, honestly. But it’s not a thing that can be undone. We would be…tied together for the rest of your natural life. I can’t…I couldn’t force that on you.”

“You’re not forcing anything on me. And anyway, it doesn’t have to be all that. I’m just trying to keep you alive—”

“You’re not listening—”

“Of course I am! There’s some magical force you can’t explain that’s gonna tether me and you if you bite me. Do you realize how fucking ridiculous you sound?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re arguing with a vampire but go ahead and tell me how ridiculous this all is. You know nothing, bellezza. Nothing about me or others like me.”

“Oh my god, I’m not asking you to turn me—”

“You don’t understand what you’re asking at all! Do you know what any of this costs? The actual cost of playing around with eternal life?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“Everything,” he snapped. “These things you’re so desperate to prove don’t matter to you cost us everything. For hundreds of years I have faced loss after loss after loss. Those hunter friends of yours killed Secondo’s very human girlfriend. Do you understand? That hunter—a girl he hired and trusted stabbed his girlfriend to death in front of us and I—I was powerless to stop it.”

“Terzo, I—”

“They will kill you too,” he said in a deadly serious tone. “They will not hesitate. Do you understand? If I mark you, it will only make things worse for you.” He shook his head, grabbing your hand as he looked back up at you. He tried and failed to blink away a few tears that gathered in the corners of his eyes. “I won’t…I can’t…I cannot watch you die, bellezza.”

You whispered his name as you reached for him, wanting to offer him something—comfort or empathy or at the very least understanding. He pressed a kiss into your palm before leaning into your touch. His skin was cold, dull, lifeless and you knew he was in much worse shape than he would ever admit. You’d started your summer wanting to kill him, but now you were able to see exactly how much it would hurt if he was gone.

“I can’t watch you die either,” you said quietly, choking on your own admission. “So, I guess we’re just going to have to keep saving each other.”

He huffed out a tiny laugh. “What’s a couple more times anyway, eh?”

“Exactly. So, it’s settled then?”

“Bellezza, I don’t think the devil himself could talk you out of something you’ve set your mind to.”

“Pretty sure this isn’t the time for a theology discussion.”

He groaned and rolled his eyes. “That,” he started, struggling to push himself up. “Is the furthest thing from my mind.”

“Good. How do we…do this?”

He shot you a half-smile and motioned for you to join him on the bed, explaining the easiest and most comfortable way for him to drink from you. Building up a small mountain of pillows for him to rest against, you eased him into a better position. It was difficult to see him look so powerless after everything the two of you had been through, but the mood already felt lighter. Both of you were taking a huge risk, but you knew deep down it was the right thing to do for him. You’d been so wrong about so many things, so blind to the most obvious signs, but this one—this glowed neon and warm as the vampire looked up at you adoringly.

You settled into his lap and closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. Despite how much you pushed for this, how much you wanted to do this to help him, it didn’t stop you from being terrified. He brought a hand to your hip and squeezed gently as his own breaths became more labored by the second.

“Will it hurt?” you asked as softly as you could, scared that any noise would break the two of you apart and he would change his mind.

“Bellezza, I would never hurt you,” he admitted in a whisper.

You pressed your forehead to his. “I know.”

You didn’t see his weak smile, your eyes still squeezed tight as he brought a hand to your chin. He smoothed his thumb over your jaw as he coaxed your head to the side and followed the trail down the veins of your neck. You flinched as his lips met your skin, but his teeth didn’t follow as he left soft kisses over the column of your throat. Slowly you felt your body relax against him, your chests pressed together. He locked an arm around your back, his fingers digging into your flesh as the most lascivious moan vibrated through his entire body.

He was right, he hadn’t hurt you. For a few seconds you weren’t quite sure what was happening. You shifted in his lap and a surprised gasp left you as you felt his cock growing thick against you. He whined at your movements struggling to keep you still as your warm, wet blood spilled from his mouth and dribbled down your neck. That seemed to pull you back to the reality of the situation, a dull ache growing where his teeth were pressed into your skin.

His hold got tighter and tighter and it wasn’t until you let out a pitiful whimper that he finally pulled off. He licked at your wounds, hungrily lapping up every drop that dribbled down like futilely trying to fight the sun from melting an ice cream. You slumped against him, heartbeat slowing with each second.

Terzo moved beneath you, easily lifting himself up despite your dead weight. He managed to relax, stretching his legs out so he could fully lay down. He kept you pinned to him, not that you could move even if you’d wanted to. He sucked in a deep breath, your body rising as his chest filled. His body began to grow warm, his complexion slowly returning to its healthy glow under your fingertips.

Weak and tired you rested your head against the new warmth of him, eyelids growing heavier with each slow beat of your heart. A small splotch of your blood stained his t-shirt, enough that the smell of copper seemed to overpower everything. As he carded a hand through your hair, your eyes finally closed.

-x-

Terzo was gone when you woke up.

The motel room was dark and with the TV off the only light came from the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock. You reached for the lamp, your muscles so stiff and sore you could barely lift your hand from the bed. Through dry, cracked lips you muttered his name, wondering if he was just lurking somewhere in the dark, but there was no response.

Everything fucking hurt. Places in your body you didn’t know could even feel pain seemed to scream to life as you pushed yourself up. It was like fire under your skin, the way your fingers would burn as they turn white from cold. A feeling without any sort of warmth. You were freezing, shivering against the motel’s paper-thin blankets and unable to move from your resting place.

Oh, you were going to kill him.

Outside, you could hear someone whistling loudly with no regard for anyone occupying the motel rooms. The door rattled as the old lock croaked out a beep and gave way with a loud click. The whistling only got louder as Terzo strolled in sporting a bare midriff and a delivery bag.

“Well, look who’s finally awake,” he quipped as he saw you sitting up. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I hate you,” you grinded out.

He clicked his tongue. “It’s a good thing I know you don’t mean that.”

You didn’t have a proper comeback for him this time. Your brain had turned to cotton candy with the density of dark matter and your face contorted in pain as you gritted your teeth. Terzo caught you quickly as you swung your legs off the side of the bed in an effort to stand, but you had all the coordination of a baby giraffe on ice.

“You need to stay put, bellezza.”

“Terzo, we have to get out of here,” you mumbled tiredly.

“Oh no, mia principessa. We are not going anywhere until you get your strength back.”

“Well, whose fault is that?”

He shot you a look as he dropped the bag on the table. “Yours.”

You forced yourself to your feet and cast him an equally annoyed glare. “Fuck you.”

“Oh, we’re not doing that until you get your strength back either,” he teased, wiggling his slender hips at you. The sharp angle of bone and a soft trail of dark hair was on prominent display as he continued to mime the very same motions he’d used on you a few times now. 

“Ugh, stop,” you whined, feigning disgust. “Where the fuck did you even find scissors?”

“Oh, the shirt needed some modifications. I hope you don’t mind.”

You pressed your fingers against your temples. “You left me in here like this because you needed another crop top?”

“Of course not! That was more of an opportunity that just presented itself. I left because I knew you would need a few things.” He frowned at you and guided you backwards until you sat on the bed. “You shouldn’t stand for a while.”

“And you shouldn’t be running around some random truck stop in the middle of nowhere!”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, pulling into a smirk. “Bellezza, were you worried about me?”

You shoved him as hard as you could in your weakened state. “Yes, you idiot!”

“Hey,” he pouted.

“Terzo, I have spent the last few days trying to keep you safe. I let you bite me for fuck’s sake! Is this just one big game to you?” you asked accusingly, not having the strength to keep the tears brimming in your eyes under control.

He dropped onto the bed and pulled you into his lap, cradling you as he spoke. “Tesoro, no. None of this is a game, ok? None of it.”

You gasped for breath between sobs as a sharp, searing pain ripped through your neck. It was the worst thing you’d ever felt, like broken glass and fire had replaced you blood. You dug your nails into Terzo’s arm, pressing harder with each wave of hurt. The smell of copper tinged the air.

“Tesorino, you’re ok,” he cooed, smoothing a hand down your back. “I need you to breathe, sì? Slowly,” he instructed as he reached for the bag. He kept an arm locked around you as he retrieved a small, white cardboard box. He ripped it open with his teeth, unwilling to let you go even for a second.

“There we go,” he said softly as your breathing returned to normal. He adjusted you in his lap, turning you just so and firmly pressed a gauze pad to your throat. He held it in place as he leaned down and let his lips brush gently across your forehead. “I’m so sorry, bellezza. This is all my fault.”

“Yeah, you really fucked up by falling on that poisoned-tipped dagger,” you grumbled.

“It was a bowie knife, mia cara. Feels different.”

“You make a habit of getting stabbed?”

“Once or twice,” he replied dismissively. “But that is a story for another time. I should have been here when you woke up.”

“It’s fine—”

“Bellezza, this pain,” he paused to flex his fingers around the gauze. “That is your bite reopening. You have to be more careful. You are, eh, delicate while you’re healing.”

“Great,” you groaned. “Nothing I love more than feeling delicate.”

“I promise it’s not forever, cara. But you might be a little more…eh, it’s not just a physical weakness, you’ll feel. You will probably feel quite emotional too. But that’s nothing a little chocolate can’t fix,” he adds with a nervous laugh.

“If you’re saying what I think you’re saying, I will kill you in your sleep.”

“Cocoa is good for your brain, tesorino.” He shook his head. “And I thought you were done trying to kill me, hmm?”

“I guess,” you managed through a yawn.

He dropped another kiss on your forehead before he slid you from his lap. He brought your hand to your neck, your fingers replacing his so he could tear through that silly delivery bag with reckless abandon. Piece by piece he revealed his truck stop haul. Somehow, he had been able to find things you hadn’t even thought of.

He knelt in front of you and gently helped you lift your hand and the bloody gauze away. Biting his lip in concentration, he leaned in to replace the bandage and secured it with a healthy amount of medical tape around the edges. When he was satisfied, he slipped his arms under you and shifted your body back against the pile of pillows you had made for him. With a smug grin he finally handed you a heavy chocolate bar in the fanciest wrapper you’d ever seen.

“The hell is this?”

“Chocolate?”

“Uh-huh. And where did it come from?”

“Ah,” he sang and bit into a chocolate bar of his own. “Would you like to hear about my day, bellezza?”

You tried to stay calm. “Please, please tell me you didn’t use your credit cards.”

“You worry too much.” He planted a patronizing kiss on the top of your head. “But, no, I did not use the credit cards. After I was restored, I took a little walk around the area. I knew you would need to rest and to eat and that you’d need bandages and probably a couple of good excuses, so I wandered into the little shop with the horrible ‘spaghetti.’” He paused to make a disgusted face, a shiver going through his body. “And do you know what I found?”

“Your flair for the dramatic?”

“I’d have to lose it first,” he teased and raised an eyebrow at you. “I found a very helpful young man—well, I say young, but I believe he said he was about 200—”

“Terzo? Did you befriend another werewolf?”

“What? No, I—are you going to let me tell my story, cara?” he huffed.

You lazily mimed zipping your mouth shut.

“Grazie mille. Where was I? Oh! The helpful young vampire let me borrow some scissors for the t-shirt and taught me how to use something called an app. From his phone, don’t worry. Bellezza, did you know you can just…have food brought to you?”

You bit your tongue as his face lit up and he presented you with an insane amount of takeout containers.

“I wasn’t sure what you might want when you woke up, but, eh, Robert said that wasn’t really an issue around here. So, there’s a little bit of everything I could find, plus the chocolate bars.”

“Terzo?”

“I didn’t use cards. I—”

“Thank you,” you whispered as tears spilled down your face again.

He shot you a worried look as you began to weep openly. “Cara, you…you said we had to keep saving each other.”

You nodded. “I did say that.”

“Well, it was my turn. And I am not nursing you back to health with salt and those disgusting energy drinks Omega is addicted to, ok? Not for mia principessa.”

He settled next to you on the bed and flipped through the TV as you ate small bites from the container than smelled the best. It wasn’t the same pain, but swallowing your food hadn’t felt great and you were growing tired fast. He let you rest against his shoulder, eyelids drooping as you began to drift. He made a tiny, happy sound as he found a channel that featured men on skates.

“Bellezza, look! This is the one you like, sì? The violence?”

You cuddled closer to him, warming yourself with the heat of his body as you glanced at the TV. There was a singular man gliding beautifully over the ice before pushing off into a jump. “This is men’s figure skating.”

“Oh. It’s not the same?”

You shook your head as you leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “But I like this too.”

-x-

Morning arrived too quickly with a harsh light that cracked through the edge of the dingy curtains and revealed just how much dust was floating around that tiny motel room. Terzo held you as close as possible, the rough blankets tangled around his hips and yours, almost tying the two of you together. He had draped himself over you sometime last night between a sleepy discussion of the differences of technical and artistic scoring and deciding when the two of you should plan to leave for Primo’s house. You were too exhausted to argue for your own space in the bed, much less your own plans for moving forward. So, you pressed into his side, accepting the comfort of him and fell asleep in his arms.

It was beginning to feel natural somehow, like waking up next to Terzo Emeritus was just something you did every day. Part of a routine that should have worried you or even scared you, but it just…didn’t. There was no real way to explain it to yourself. As much as the rational, trained vampire hunter part of you had never, ever imagined anything like this would happen to you it didn’t feel wrong. Your only worry was the dull throb of the bite wound pulsing in your neck.

You shifted around, trying to lessen the pressure on the spot. His hold on you tightened with a tired whine and a whispered “don’t” falling from his lips.

“We should get up,” you suggested.

“Not yet, mia principessa. Please?”

There was something about the way he said it, something in the tone that made the air leave your lungs. But this time it felt different—his words didn’t frighten you, didn’t carry a weight that you couldn’t understand. There was no desire to run and hide, no itch under your skin that begged you to push him away. The voice in your head that usually screamed these kinds of things were wrong and too much was silent for once. You were content where you were, happy to lay next to him even if he didn’t give you any room. Almost as though you wanted to be there.

With a yawn, you agreed to let him sleep a little longer.

An hour later he finally dragged himself to a seated position, dramatically stretching and grunting in a way you’d come to expect. He resigned himself to getting dressed, pausing to not so subtly watch you move through the room as you went to shower and change into the novelty “Roadkill Café” t-shirt he’d bought for you while you were passed out. You brushed your teeth together, each of you eyeing the other in the mirror with curiosity and shy smiles.

There was something so normal about the whole thing. Tiny moments of domesticity and the sweetness of a simple touch. The idiot had even kissed you while globs of toothpaste foamed around his mouth, leaving a trail of mint and spit on your cheek. It allowed you to forget the rest of the world, to forget that outside this room people were actively trying to kill both of you. With that thought, the spell was broken, and you began to pick at your cuticles while he busied himself with the mass of food containers he brought back.

“You ok, bellezza?” he asked carefully, but he couldn’t mask the concern on his face.

You forced a smile and stood, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Just ready to get going, I guess.”

He brought a hand to your face, softly caressing your cheek before turning it over to press the back to your forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. I just…I think we’re stayed here way too long.”

“We didn’t really have a choice.”

“No, but we should get going before someone figures out where we are—or where we’re going.”

He gave you an easy shrug. “I’ll drive.”

You stifled a laugh. “You?”

“Bellezza, you wound me. It may have been a while, but I am perfectly capable of operating a car.”

“You opened the sunroof in the rain.”

“True, but that has nothing to do with driving.”

“Go on then.”

He did not remember how to drive. After a few panic inducing laps around the parking lot, Terzo grew more comfortable behind the wheel while you adjusted your seatbelt every ten seconds to make sure it was still secure. The interstate was a mostly deserted straight shot and after about 50 miles you let yourself begin to worry about something else.

You would never say it out loud, but the closer you got to Primo’s house the more your nerves grew. You had spent your entire life researching the Emeritus vampires, seeking out whatever weaknesses one could find to exploit to destroy them. A lifetime built on tearing their lives apart piece by tiny piece had also instilled a healthy fear and respect for the eldest brother.

There was a reason no one went after Primo.

If the last few weeks had taught you anything, it was that you knew nothing. You couldn’t begin to understand the ins and outs of vampire politics during your training. There was a system designed in the shadows and kept secret from those who would hunt them down. No one had ever gotten close enough to figure out exactly how it all worked—at least no one who made it back alive. But the vampires had made it very clear throughout the last century especially that there was one vampire at the head of the table: Primo Emeritus.

It was a name many vampires had chosen to die for rather than betray and you couldn’t help wondering what it was all for.

Somewhere past a washed out exit sign, Terzo turned onto a desolate back road long neglected by the county. The strip of faded asphalt was scarred with deep cracks and potholes overrun by weeds and grass, cutting its way through fields on either side that seemed to stretch past the horizon. Decrepit, abandoned homes occasionally dotted the countryside. Glass shards hung from rotting windowpanes like broken teeth below collapsed roofs and sagging bricks. It was a graveyard of a forgotten community, a place where nothing but underbrush seemed to thrive.

“Terzo, are you sure you’re going the right way?” you asked as your stomach tied itself into a million knots. It didn’t look like anyone would be out here—living or dead.

“Oh yes, principessa. Trust me.”

It would have been a lot easier to do if it didn’t look like the kind of backdrop even horror movies avoided.

He slowed the car and guided it to the left at a broken stone marker. A barely noticeable overgrown gravel drive slipped between the trees, framed by an old iron gate left open and consumed by rust. An elaborate decorative E on the gate was held in place by little more than patina.

“Told you,” Terzo teased as he pointed at the gate. He across the console to place a hand on your knee and gave it a comforting squeeze. “There’s no reason to be scared, bellezza. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

That only made your heartbeat faster.  

At the crest of a small hill, a house came into view. Unlike the other homes you had passed on the way in this one was quite clearly lived in and loved. The stone façade of the storybook cottage was completely covered in thick greenery and climbing roses, reclaimed by its surroundings. The limbs and leaves had been trimmed away from the rounded windows, each of them left open to let the summer breeze pass through. A scene of delicate flowers made from colorful stained glass hung in the frame of the old oak door—a burst of brightness that set a clear division between the owner of this home and the one who’d built Meliora house.

Terzo parked close to the house, stopping behind a sleek black classic car. Something from the 50’s you guessed. The shine and smooth shapes of the vintage Cadillac made Terzo’s modern machine look like a dumpy toaster in comparison.

There was a flash of movement past the front window as the two of you climbed out of the car. You took the opportunity to stretch your legs, pacing a short length of driveway while Terzo stared up at the house with his hands on his hips. It was eerily quiet, save for the gravel crunching under your feet and the billions of insects singing in the woods. The sun broke through the surrounding trees and showered beams of light over the neat rows of flowers that lined a stone wall. Vibrant hues and shapes buzzed with fat little honeybees happily jumping from bloom to bloom. You couldn’t help but think of this place as some beautiful timeless utopia, somehow untouched by all the decay and abandonment of the surrounding area.

Vampires always lived in the weirdest places.

A tall, older gentleman emerged from the front door and stepped outside with a commanding, regal presence. He didn’t even need to open his mouth to cause the two of you to stop in your tracks and look up at him. Crooked black lines cut his face into the signature skull mask the brothers all wore. The jagged shape of it did nothing to soften his appearance. His eyes, mismatched just like Terzo’s, scanned the lawn and squinted down at you. A deep red robe made of what had to be silk hung off his shoulders, framing him like a holy man in designer vestments. While his look exuded power above anything, there was still the frail body of an elderly man staring back at you.

“Primo!” Terzo shouted a little too loudly. “You look like shit.”

Primo narrowed his eyes at the younger man. “What does your shirt say?”

Terzo shot you a nasty look as you clasped your hands over your mouth to cover your laughter. “It’s, eh, a little joke between the two of us,” he explained with a wave of his hand. “This one thinks she’s funny.”

Primo took a long look at both of you before he stepped to the side with a sigh. “You might as well come in.”

The smell of fresh eucalyptus and mint wafted through the air as you stepped inside the vampire’s home. Worn, old boards creaked beneath your feet as Primo led you to the main living room. The house was filled with warm wood carved into intricate shapes that framed each doorway and the numerous bookcases nestled inside the walls. There was a cozy nook built under the front window, an old volume left open atop a soft blanket. Shelves held a carefully placed collection of antiques, old dry leather bound books with ancient pages, and rusted old trinkets and tools. An expensive telescope was pointed toward a south-facing window surrounded by two thriving palms plants. Meliora House had been filled with things no one ever used, but Primo’s things seemed to serve a purpose.

Terzo flung himself unceremoniously onto the vintage velvet sofa against the wall, ignoring the cracking sound it made and the pointed look his brother gave him.

“Well then, what have you done this time?” Primo asked in an accusing tone, his white hair falling over his shoulders as he angled himself between the two of you.

“Oh, what I can’t stop by to say hello?”

Primo pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fratellino, you have done many—and I do mean many stupid things in your lifetimes, but I had never dared to hope you wouldn’t bring a hunter to my door.”

You swallowed hard as Terzo began to fidget nervously. “She’s, eh…” he started, waving a hand as he looked at you. “You could say she’s had a change of heart.”

“Is that so?” he asked, eyeing you curiously.

“I managed to get here without killing him,” you offered.

Primo laughed loudly, his voice echoing off the support beams above. “That is a true challenge indeed!” he hollered and slapped his knee. As his laughter died down, he turned and gave you a soft, genuine smile. He offered his hand. “Come with me, piccolina.”

“Hey!” Terzo shouted as you accepted Primo’s hand. “What about me?”

Primo shrugged. “Go fix your face, stronzio.”

“Testa di cazzo,” he grumbled and made a rude gesture as he stalked off toward the back of the house.

The old vampire kept your hand in his, gently leading you through his home as gracefully as he would have led you through a waltz. You had seen and fell prey to Terzo’s charms immediately, but it was becoming clear where he’d learned it all. Primo didn’t seem to waste words or time, unafraid to call out his younger brother’s missteps or identify you for what you were. It was clear he was not threatened by you—you never would have made it into the house if that was the case, but he had made a strategic move to separate you from Terzo. His brother had sensed it too.

At the edge of the cottage was a small kitchen lined with open shelves and cabinets with glass doors. Each one was absolutely packed with jars of all sizes and filled with various herbs and tinctures in nearly as many colors as the stained glass window above the sink. There was a faint scent of incense, something woody yet soft with a hint of smoke and clove that made the space feel impossibly cozy.

A vase of fresh cut flowers sat on a small table in the center of the room, its chairs tucked neatly in place. He pulled one out for you and gestured for you to take a seat.

“Are you hungry, piccolina?” he asked instead of joining you at the table.

“Oh no, I’m fine,” you lied as your stomach growled and gave you away.

He laughed heartily, flashing sharp fangs as he swiped a hand under his wrinkled eye. “I’m afraid it is not very easy to lie to me.”

“I’m sorry. I was just trying to be polite.”

He tilted his head, another soft, fond smile gracing his lips. “He’s marked you.”

“What?” you snapped, your hand going straight to your bandage as you nearly jumped from your chair. “How did you—”

“Piccolina, please sit. Neither of you are in trouble. Would you care for some tea?”

“I—uh—"

He turned without waiting for an answer and busied himself with filling a kettle at the sink. He hummed as he moved, settling the kettle on the stove before poking through the pots and pans that hung just above. He was going to far too much trouble for you, but you weren’t exactly sure how to protest the manners of such a powerful vampire. You barely made it through three sips of tea before your eyelids grew heavy and you folded your arms to rest your head on the table. He continued to clamor around the kitchen as you watched sleepily, his hum turning to a soft whistle as you dozed off.

The smell of fresh tomatoes and basil began to make your stomach growl again, loud enough that it woke you from your nap. It took you a moment to remember where you were as you looked at the pots bubbling away on the stove and the patterned tile of the floor around you. Mrs. G was the only person you knew who could cook and this certainly wasn’t her apartment.

“Primo?” a soft voice called from the side door. “I’ve got your groceries.”

You heard Primo quickly sweep through the house behind you, that fancy robe billowing as he rushed to greet her. “Ah, diavolina! I didn’t expect you today.”

“I’m sorry. I had something come up and I needed to make the delivery early. I should have called or something. I didn’t expect you to have company.”

“It was a surprise to me as well, diavolina,” he said with a laugh.

You leaned back in your chair trying to peer around the corner, but you were unable to see who he was talking to. You strained your ears to make out the rest of their muffled conversation before reminding yourself that it was really none of your business. After a moment, they exchanged goodbyes and Primo returned to the kitchen.

“Everything ok, piccolina? How was your nap?”

“Oh, I’m fine really. I’ve just been so tired since—uh—”

He nodded. “That is a common side effect, but this should help.”

Your eyes followed him as he swept back through the kitchen, draining pots and stirring the contents of others. When he finished, he presented you with a dish that was plated so nicely it should have been in a photograph. He doted on you, bringing over anything he thought you might need from extra silverware to pepper before he settled across from you with his own plate. You wondered how long it had been since he had a proper visitor. Even the delivery girl seemed surprised someone else was here.

“You know, for people who don’t need to eat, you guys sure do love food,” you quipped before taking a bite. It was without a doubt the best thing you had ever tasted and you let out an involuntary pleased hum. “Ok, I take it back. I get it now.”

He chuckled softly. “Grazzie mille, piccolina. One could get very bored very quickly if he only allowed himself to eat one thing for eternity.”

“Ah, good point.”

“Piccolina, did you know for as long as there have been vampires, there have been vampire hunters?”

You nervously gripped your fork. “I had been taught that, yes. But I’m learning there are a lot of things that I was taught that might not be…correct.”

He laughed lightly and patted your hand. “I’m afraid that might be our fault as well. Vampire hunters are almost always human and therefore have much shorter live expectancies. Which they then use to fuel your hatred for us, yes? To make monsters out of men like me and Terzo when all we’ve ever done, for centuries mind you, is defend ourselves or the ones we love. Hunters are…shortsighted. They have the luxury of a limited memory, but it forces them to pass their hatred to younger and younger generations. Do you recall many elders from your group?”

“One or two, maybe?” you admitted. “They were always sort of…hidden.”

Primo nodded. “One of the more effective ways we found to protect ourselves was to spread disinformation through the hunters’ network. There may not be much they taught you about us that is actually true.” He cracked a wry smile. “Once for about, eh, fifty years, I had them convinced that we lay eggs to reproduce.”

“And they just…believed you?”

He shrugged. “Hatred makes you blind to many things, piccolina. But also, quite gullible to others.”

“I don’t know that I would ever believe that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “But sunlight, garlic, silver, mirrors…these things are believable to you?”

You sank in your seat. “I see your point.”

He reached across the table and squeezed your hand. “I did not tell you these things to make you feel foolish, piccolina. I imagine it is quite difficult to try to unlearn a lifetime of things in a matter of a few weeks.” He sighed heavily. “It is a shame what they did to Meliora House, but I suppose in a way it helped you at least.”

“What the hell is this?” Terzo bellowed as he appeared and leaned against the doorframe. “Are you trying to steal her from me, old man?” Gone was the sassy little crop top, replaced by a tasteful black dress shirt he had given up buttoning past his navel. His paints were back as well, thick precise lines that gave him an edge of seriousness you weren’t used to.

“Well, it would certainly teach you a lesson about trying to steal your brothers’ wives—” Primo noted, pointing his fork at his brother. He reached over with his other hand to pat you on the back, his accusation causing you to choke on your food. “Hmm, looks like the two of you need to have a conversation about your past now that you belong to one another.”

“Oh no, that’s not really what we’re doing,” you added nervously. “He just needed help.”

He pinned you with a concerned look before turning back to his brother. “Terzo…”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Don’t look at me. I explained the whole thing before it happened—”

“And he was, you know, dying,” you added.

“I was not!”

“Well, you looked like a corpse.”

“Piccolina, I do appreciate your willingness to not let Terzo die.” He stood and moved closer to you to gently ask his next question. “But do you really not understand what the two of you have done?”

“Is it really that serious?”

“You explained nothing, idiota!” Primo barked as he crossed the room to smack the back of Terzo’s head.

“Yes, I did!” he shot back, ducking out of his brother’s reach as he tried to hit him again. “It’s not my fault that she’s so—”

“So what, Terzo?” you interrupted.

“Stubborn! Ai!” he howled as you pinched him. “Both of you fuck off!”

Primo narrowed his eyes at his brother, the white one almost glowing with anger. He spoke in quick, clipped Italian phrases, each one punctuated by another slap to any part of Terzo’s body he could get to. It went on for several minutes with Terzo covering his face to protect it from the blows as he snapped back in what you assumed was equally aggressive language. The last phrase he spat out was a step too far and Primo growled as he hauled Terzo up by the collar, his feet kicking desperately as his brother lifted him and dragged him to the side door. He tossed him out with no effort, the frail appearance of his body betraying his true strength.

There was an aura of anger hanging over him, a cloud of unhealthy rage that only seemed to dissipate after he threw his plate at the wall. When he turned back to you there was nothing but kindness in his eyes and an apology for his actions on his lips. He regarded you with a soft, gentile expression, almost like he wished he could explain everything and apologize for Terzo himself. You had no idea what they had screamed at each other, but the look he gave you—the pity—suggested that his younger brother had massively fucked up.

“Did he tell you, piccolina? About the mark?” he asked quietly, averting his gaze.

“Um…”

“What he said is important. Do you remember it?”

You nodded and swallowed hard. “He said that there’s a…bond that would form between us and that no one else could touch me.”

“Did he tell you why?” he asked as he knelt in front of you.

You shook your head. “He just…he said I was different?”

His shoulders sagged as he sighed heavily. “It’s true, piccolina. You are different to him. The mark…the bond it creates…it’s…” he trailed off and sucked down an uneasy breath before taking your hands in his. “It is an act of love, piccolina,” he explained quietly. “A sign of devotion.”

“I-I don’t—"

His face softened. “It’s not such an easy thing to explain, I imagine. Our existence is…well lucky for you it was something you were already aware of, but as I said there is a lot that humans still don’t understand about us. I am sure that’s not an easy thing to hear either. But the two of you…are bound together.”

“Yeah, that’s what he said.”

Primo sighed and glanced out the window. “Mio fratellino is…shall we say, complicated. He has always worn his heart on his sleeve—used to drive our father insane. A free spirit like that is much harder to control, you see? But now it seems he has finally met his match. His heart belongs to you.”

“I get what you’re saying but that…that—that can’t be right. He—”

“It is what the mark means, piccolina. It’s an act of love because it is love.”

“But…he…I…are you saying that he’s—he’s in lo—” You swallowed the rest of the word, wanting to choke on it as the sharp edges scraped down your throat.

“I cannot speak for him, but I suspect he has spent a very long time trying to feel anything but this. Possibly longer than you can comprehend. I’m in no position to ask any favors, but please, if you could, be careful with him, eh? You are his heart now.”

“That…that’s not possible—”

“And yet it is,” he said, groaning as he stood, his joints popping loudly. “You realize he wouldn’t bring just anybody to this place, piccolina. But he brought you.”

“Why would he—”

“You’ll have to ask him, I’m afraid. I suspect he’ll be hiding somewhere out in the gardens as usual,” he said as he pointed to an empty space between hedges.

On shaking legs, you pushed yourself up and made your way to the side door. Your head spun, overloaded with a pressure that made you dizzy.

“Primo?” you asked.

“Yes, piccolina?”

“What did you say to him?”

He cracked a smile. “Just gave him some brotherly advice.”

You nodded and pushed your way out of the cottage. A small stone path overgrown with bright green moss led away from the house and past a large, glass-domed conservatory filled with plants and flowers. The break in the hedge revealed a private garden completely hidden from view by the surrounding foliage. The most beautiful flowers sprouted from every direction lit by tiny lanterns and lights that had been fixed to the arches above. The plants had been encouraged to grow up and over the opening, like the space was just part of the landscape. It was clear that Primo had spent a lot of time and effort to build this space and you found yourself remembering the lush gardens of Meliora House. Had he designed those too?

There was so much you didn’t know about Terzo and his life. About his brothers and how they grew up and came to be what they are. So many things were a mystery to you and yet somehow, he had seen through all your ignorance and found something about you that he could no longer deny—even if he wanted to. It was on you now, his feelings woven into your skin—into your blood, your cells. Words he hadn’t said were spreading within you like an infection, an illness with a countdown clock ticking away to your death. Until the end of your natural life, he had said. How could he even know he would feel this longer than five minutes?

At the end of the path, Terzo stood facing away from you. His attention was focused solely on the rose bush in front of him. You called his name softly, your chest tightening when he didn’t move, though you both knew he’d heard you. It hit you hard as you stared at the back of him, his shoulders no longer holding that poise or confidence he had carried over the last few days. He looked so small, like he had when you’d first arrived at his house, that melancholy version of himself that wanted nothing to do with anyone.

Why hadn’t he told you what it all meant? Why didn’t he tell you the importance of the decision you made for the two of you? Why the fuck would he not look at you now? And why did it hurt so fucking much?

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked. Your voice sounded so far away. 

“Tell you what?” he asked. He still refused to look at you, not even a sideways glance. The face paint masked his expressions, but it was easy to tell he was in pain. 

He focused on picking at an invisible hair on his pants, anything to keep his eyes down and his face forward. It hurt to look at him, to see him look so beautiful standing there despite his current attitude. You wished you could keep this moment, to capture him on film or in swirls of oil paints on a canvas grand enough to hold his image. But you couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t say much of anything.

Tears stung your eyes as he plucked a perfect rose from the bush and started slowly twisting it in his fingers. He barely winced as the thorns caught his fingers, drawing his blood in a way that felt ugly. You had seen him like this before, that night you found him singing in the garden. You’d meant to kill him and now all you wanted was for him to look at you.

“Terzo?” you tried again.

“Would you like me to apologize?” he asked coldly and finally turned to look at you.

“No. I just—Primo told me—”

“I don’t care what he told you, bellezza. He’s a lonely old fool,” he spat. “And you—why, why is it different now that he said it, huh?” He pointed at himself. “I told you. I told you the cost and what it meant, and it was still nothing to you.”

“I didn’t know. I-I didn’t understand—”

“Understand what?” he shouted.

“That you are in love with me!” you yelled back. “How was I supposed to know what it meant, Terzo? Do you think I would have said any of those things if I had known?”

With that the dam broke and you collapsed on the lawn in a sad, lifeless heap. You had never cried so hard in your entire life, and you hoped you never would again. There was so much pain and confusion in every ragged breath, and it burned through every part of you, rolling like hot smoke in your lungs as you clutched at the grass. Your chest heaved, but every attempt to get even the smallest amount of oxygen failed miserably. Terzo appeared at your side and god how you wanted to fight him off as he pulled you to his chest, but you just felt so small without him. 

“I’m so sorry bellezza,” he whispered into your ear and held you tight. “I’ve lived so long, and I still don’t know how to be a better man.”

“Just be a fucking vampire then,” you mumbled back.

“I’m not so sure I’m good at that either.”

“Then why the hell are we doing this, huh? Why should I keep saving your life?”

“Oh bellezza,” he sighed. He dragged you into his lap and kissed the top of your head. “Because you like me.”

“Ugh,” you groaned. “No, I don’t.”

“It doesn’t have to change things,” he offered quietly. “I don’t want you to change.”

You shifted away, angling yourself so you could look into his eyes. “Terzo, I—”

He pressed a finger to your lips. “You’re right, I should have told you. And you deserve to hear it, but it’s…it’s not nearly as easy as they make it look in those films.”

“Terzo, it’s ok—”

He cut you off with your name and a serious look as he ran a hand over the bandage on your neck. “This marks you because I love you, bellezza. It doesn’t say that you are mine. It says that I am yours.” He took your hand and placed it over his heart. “This is yours, cuore mio.”

You crashed into him, the two of you falling onto the grass as you kissed him desperately. There were things you could say, answers to questions he didn’t ask, but for the first time in your life you believed someone could love you. Not only could he love you, but he did. He loved you despite the cost to himself and the danger it put you both in. You melted into him, giving him the breath from your lungs and the blood in your veins. Yeah, he was yours, but you were his too. Even if you couldn’t say it out loud, it was in that wound on your neck, a scar you’d bear for the rest of your life.

Terzo was quick to pull you from the grass and back inside Primo’s. His mouth never left yours as he guided you to the little guest room at the back of the house. His t-shirt was still on the floor and the paints were left open in front of the vanity, but he was only focused on adding your clothes to the pile as he urged you toward the bed. His hair fell over his face as he leaned over you, dipping his head to trail hot kisses over the column of your throat and down your bare chest, leaving smears of black and white in his wake. He pushed your thighs apart as he kissed his way across your body, stopping short to lock eyes with you as he reached your sex.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, tugging roughly as his plush lips connected to your center. Teasingly, he ran his tongue through your folds and around your clit, moaning each time your hips left the bed. He pushed his fingers against your entrance, wanting to feel the effect he had on you. He told you as much as he pulled off your cunt to watch you stretch around his fingers as they disappeared inside you. The heel of his palm added pressure to your center as he moved up to kiss you. He pumped his fingers faster, smiling as you moaned into his mouth.

“So beautiful like this, principessa,” he whispered against your skin as your hips bucked against his hand. “Cosi bella.”

“You are,” you countered breathlessly.

He just smiled and pulled his hand away as he rolled onto the bed. “Come here,” he said, motioning with the fingers that were still wet with your slick. You gave him a puzzled look as you tried to straddle him, but he shifted until your knees were positioned on either side of his head.

“I want you like this,” he growled as he grabbed ahold of your hips and pulled you down to him.

His tongue was exploring your entrance as his nose bumped against your clit and you searched for anything you could hold onto. Your hands found his hair, gripping tight as he worked you over like it was the only thing he has ever wanted to do. Like he was trying to give you something no one else ever could. It was too much, too good, but he was too strong to let you get away easily. He dug his fingers into your hips he urged you toward your end. It washed over you, each nerve of your body exploding into little fireworks as your body tensed and you came with a shout, completely forgetting you were a guest in someone else’s home.

He grinned up at you, his face paint smeared away from his mouth and spread across the inside of your thighs.

You smiled back at him, moving further down on the bed so you could claim his lips with your own, needing to taste yourself in his mouth, needing him to know. He reached for you, but you knocked his hands away and pinned his wrists to the mattress with one hand as the other worked at the buttons of his shirt. It fell away from his chest, revealing a jagged mark where that stupid poisoned knife had pierced him.

You traced a finger over the silvery scar, feeling along the soft ridge where his pale skin had pulled itself back together. His eyes shut tight as you leaned down to plant kisses on the spot, trailing a wordless apology over his chest. A tiny whimper caught in the back of his throat as he bit his lip bloody, but you kept your touches light. You drew your lips over every inch of skin, kissing every freckle and scar, each sign that he had lived that marred his chest. You didn’t know where the others had come from, but it didn’t matter. There were several lifetimes worth of stories he could tell you when he wanted to and you’d commit each one to memory just as you would the matching scars.

He was coming apart beneath you, face twisted in pleasure and pain. You wondered why he’d never let anyone see him like this when he looked so beautiful. You toyed with the bar in his nipple, drinking in the sight of him frantically turning his head to bite at the sheets in a desperate attempt to ground himself. Was this what you had looked like to him?

His cock was straining against his pants by the time you reached his waistband, but you were in no real hurry. You freed him slowly, appreciating the length and weight of his cock as it curved up toward his belly. You licked the slit, almost purring at the noise that came out of him as you collected that little pearl of pre that had gathered at the tip.

His eyes were set on you as you lowered your head, taking more of him into your mouth. The two of you had fucked and he had even let you use him to fuck yourself, but this was the first time you were really seeing him unravel. There was something sweet about the moan that rumbled in his chest as he hit the back of your throat, like the sound he’d made when your blood filled his mouth. A noise that was a confession, a pure and complete desire to give yourself over to someone, to have them accept such a gift.

“Terzo?” you asked softly and wrapped your fist around him to make up for the loss of your mouth.

“Hmm?” he replied, eyes barely open.

“Do you…want to…”

“Want to what, cuore mio?”

“Would you…bite me again?” He kept his face blank, but his cock twitched in your hand. “You don’t have to. I just thought…maybe…”

“Are you asking because you want me to? Or are you asking because you think that’s what I want?”

“I’m asking because I want to know what it feels like,” you answered as you squeezed the base of his cock.

He groaned under you. “Amore, I would do whatever you asked.”

“Hmm, I’m going to have to remember that,” you said with a smile as you climbed back up his body. You pressed your lips to his as you reached between you and guided his cock through your slick, both of you moaning loudly as he bumped against your clit. You lined him up with your entrance, sinking slowly as he stretched you. It hadn’t even been that long, but you realized how much you missed the feeling of him, how perfectly the two of you seemed to fit together. He waited for your signal, watching you intently as you feel him press against your walls before canting his hips and reaching an impossible angle. You go slow at first, both of you content in the heat of each other, but it didn’t take long for him to make you beg for something more. You held onto him for dear life as he fucked up into so hard you couldn’t even form the words to tell him the second time you came.

“So fucking beautiful,” he said again, punctuating each thrust with the words. “Can you do it again, huh? Think you can give me one more?”

You nodded, trying to meet his thrusts to shut him up but let out a yelp as he turned and pinned you down.

“Are you sure?” he asked, running his nose along your throat.

“Yes.”

You felt a pinch as his teeth cut into your neck. Blood pumped from the wound, spilling a little more with each heartbeat. Terzo closed his mouth over the bite and let out a low, filthy moan as the taste washed over his tongue. He slammed into you as he drank, an animalistic drive taking over with a growl.

You whimpered beneath him, overcome with too many sensations as he took long pulls from your throat. The sound seemed to drag him back to himself, catching him before he went too far. He slowed his pace as off your neck and licked your blood from his teeth, staring down at the space where your bodies connected. He pushed your knees apart and thrust deep, grinning at the sound he pulled from you. His fingers swirled around your clit as he fucked you faster and harder until you choked out a broken cry, your third orgasm ripping through you. There was praise mumbled into your ear, a lot of talk about how beautiful you were and how good you felt around him, but all you could do was shake through the aftershocks as his hips stuttered. He came with a loud grunt, spilling impossibly deep inside you as he fucked each hot pulse into you.

He collapsed on top of you, gasping for breath as he pressed his sweaty forehead against your shoulder. “I knew it,” he panted between labored breaths. “You are still trying to kill me.”

You laughed and kissed him on the cheek. “You can live forever if you’re going to keep fucking me like that.”

“That could be arranged.”

“Shut up,” you managed through a giggle.

“Stay put, bellezza,” he ordered and kissed your shoulder before pulling away from you.

You gave him a thumbs up as he rounded the bed and disappeared into the en suite bathroom. A few seconds later he emerged with some wet cloths and sat next to you as the shower ran in the other room. Gently, he swiped around the wound at your neck, cleaning away as much blood as he could without causing you too much discomfort. He frowned at his handiwork, his expression made that much funnier by the smeared and smudged lines around his mouth.

“You’re going to need more bandages.” There was a hint of disappointment in his tone, almost guilty.

“Hey, I asked for this,” you reminded him.

He swallowed hard. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

It was difficult for the two of you to arrange yourselves in the tiny clawfoot tub, but Terzo made sure to take care of you in whatever way he could. He washed the rest of the blood away from your neck with such a delicate hand as he lathered a lavender scented soap over your skin. He rubbed your shoulders, working his way through the knots that had returned over the last few days, teasing you as you whimpered with relief. When you finished, he carried you back into the bedroom and placed you on the bed. He crawled in next to you and pulled you close as he shut his eyes. The afternoon sun still hung high in the sky sending daylight through the curtains behind the bed.

“Are you tired?” you teased.

“Are you not?”

“I could use a nap I guess.”

“Bene. How is your neck? Will those bandages hold?”

“As long as we’re careful, I think we’ll be fine.” You turned to look at him. There was a question hanging over the two of you, something you weren’t quite sure how to ask. But if Primo was right and everything you had been taught about vampires was incorrect then you had to start somewhere. “Is…is that how you…”

“Hmm?”

“Did someone…do this to you? To make you like this?”

He blinked at you. “Did—did I get bitten, you mean?”

“I’m sorry. That’s…that’s way too personal. Forget I said anything—”

“Bellezza,” he started softly, “that is a very, very long story about something that happened a long, long time ago. And I will tell you every detail if you wish to hear it, but you won’t turn from a bite, cuore mio. There is more to it than that.”

“Like what?”

“Well…dying was a pretty big part of it,” he replied with a shrug.

“Does it hurt?”

He gave you a tight smile and tucked your hair behind your ear. “I told you I would never hurt you.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m just…curious, I guess.”

“It…dying didn’t feel good,” he explained cautiously. “Not to me, at least. There was no peace in it at all.”

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. God, I don’t know what is wrong with me.”

“Shh, bellezza. It’s ok. I wouldn’t have answered if I didn’t want to. Can I…can I ask you something?”

You nodded sleepily. “I think that’s only fair.”

“What would you do with it?”

“With what?”

“Eternal life.”

“I don’t know, honestly. I…I don’t know that I’d be able to accept it.”

He smiled softly. “That’s a good answer, cara.”

“You’re not…disappointed?”

“Amore mio, immortality is an impossible thing to imagine. The concept of forever is hard enough to grasp when life is limited but even I sometimes have trouble considering the infinite. I will never be disappointed in you for having an honest reaction to such a notion.”

“You’re wrong, you know? About not being a good man. I think you’re doing just fine.”

“I knew you liked me.”

You rolled your eyes and reached up to grab a pillow to hit him with, but before you could bring it down on him, he had gone cold. His dull, lifeless eyes stared back at you as you let out a horrible scream. You shook him hard, trying desperately to get him to respond as you shouted repeatedly for help.

Primo crashed through the door with lightning speed, nearly knocking you over as he landed at Terzo’s side. He ordered you to stay put before he disappeared and reappeared almost too quickly for you to notice. It made your head hurt to try to watch him move in such a way, but you were grateful that he was fast enough to help. He poured something into Terzo’s mouth before stuffing it full of odd leaves and holding it shut. Terzo began to convulse, a thick foam dribbling out of his mouth and over Primo’s hands.

“Give me your hand,” he ordered.

You did as he asked without question, your face blank as he pricked your finger and squeezed a drop of your blood into Terzo’s mouth.

“What’s happening to him?”

“It’s ok, piccolina,” Primo said softly. “He’s been poisoned by something strong.”

“Is he—”

“No!” he snapped. He reeled when you cowered away from him and shook his head. “No, piccolina. I won’t let that happen to him. You won’t let that happen to him.”

Terzo groaned weakly as his eyes fluttered open. “What happened?” he asked, his words garbled by the herbs and foam. “Ugh what did you do?”

“Saved your stupid life,” Primo growled. “At least for now. Why didn’t you tell me? How long has this been happening?”

He shrugged. “I had it handled.”

“You most certainly do not,” Primo scolded.

“I’m here aren’t I?” he snapped back.

You couldn’t hold back the awful cry that burned in your throat as you realized he knew something was wrong. You shoved him as tears poured from your eyes, striking him repeatedly as hard as you could until Primo finally had to restrain you. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you screamed as you fought against Primo’s hold. “Did you know the whole time?”

Terzo looked up at you with a helpless expression. “I—I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Oh fratellino,” Primo sighed as he shrugged off his robe and draped it over your shoulders. “Try not to hurt him while I’m gone, eh?”

“I make no promises,” you replied through gritted teeth.

“Works for me,” he said and patted the top of your head before he left the room.

Terzo groaned as he pushed himself up. “Bellezza?”

You shook your head. “Were you just…going to let yourself die? Was that really a choice you considered over…telling me the truth?”

“I didn’t want you to hate me for telling you. For a moment, death seemed easier to deal with and that’s how I knew it was true. I knew then that I’m in love with you. I’m sorry for that, bellezza. I wish this all could have happened a million other ways. But I thought after all that after you offered to save me, that after I marked you, it would all be ok. It wasn’t until this morning that I knew for sure that I needed more help. And I should have told you, but you’ve been carrying so much this whole time that I couldn’t put another thing on you. At least not while you were still weak.”

“Can he cure you?” you asked, dodging his confession.

“He is the only man I’d trust with the job.”

You nodded once. “Don’t ever hide anything from me ever again.”

Thank you so much for reading and all your likes, reblogs and comments 💜 The next chapter will be the end of vampire Terzo's story, but some familiar faces will return as well. 💜💜💜

Please let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list 👻

Heads and Stones...

"Upon resisting capture, the Saint poised its head on the outside wall of their church to make an example of their prowess and to ward off spirits from the building"

"-that the ministry demoted and made an example of the previous Papas, both tearing down figures of their own faith to illustrate a point."

Those words gave me a funky feeling in my brain. Can't stop thinking about the fact how Terzo had his head cut off in parallel to the Saint cutting off the gargoyle's head, especially since, as you said, to "illustrate a point." I don't know if that was canon or not, but it's a good headcannon.

I forgot to mention this in my last ask but "would "100% insist upon perching himself in a reading chair while you sleep "just in case." Is he batman? Gargoman? [insert really terrible gargoyle/batman combination name i do not have the current creativity to figure out]-man, dare I say?

I don’t think that making an example of the previous Papas is explicitly said but it’s heavily implied imo especially with some of the promo content that’s rather comparison heavy between Secondo to Terzo and then from Terzo to Cardinal Copia. I actually didn’t even consider the connection of that story to Terzo until I posted it but now I’m DEFINITELY thinking about it.

I’m also pretty bad at mashing names together but I would like to offer Batoyle because it makes me laugh.

The 1994 Gargoyles TV show is atleast 98% of the source of my fixation with them, maybe I could smush one of their names with Secondo… Goliath is the one who reminds me most of him but I don’t think there’s even a chance of a non-gibberish result of that lmaooo

if Secondo was a type of parrot, which would he be 🗿

I had to research some parrots for this. There’s nanday parakeets which aesthetically make me think of Secondo being mostly green with a black hood marking over their head but most parrot species, assuming they’ve been raised well, are pretty social and affectionate animals. Some say that Pionus parrots are much more independent than others and will typically be more reserved except with chosen close people, so maybe that?

But since we’re talking about Secondo and birds… I’d like to introduce y’all to the King Vulture, scientific name Sarcoramphus papa, inspired by the Latin Papa for bishop as their plumage resembles that of one’s dress. It is bald with a small patch of colorful feathers and the species is minimally sexually dimorphic which means there are minimal differences between the appearance of males and females ( <—genderqueer Secondo believer)

In Mayan mythology these birds were believed to be messengers of the gods or to be a god themselves and often were depicted as gods with a human body and bird head. Historically, it’s blood and feathers were often used in medicines and remedies.