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faerietells · 1 year

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An annoyed sigh left your mouth as you eyed the young Lord that stood before you— yet another suitor that doesn’t seem to understand that you are not willing to bargain when it comes to the requirement to win your hand. You could've sworn you've made it pretty clear, and yet just when you thought that you’d managed to make them all give up with your little task, somehow these men still insist on attempting to woo you with gifts and honeyed words. At this point they’re just wasting both your time and theirs.

For the life of you, you simply can’t understand what’s going on through their mind. What is so hard to understand? You didn't ask for crystal jewelries made of a goddess' tears, you asked for the heart of the Whitefang manticore. It’s not like you talked in riddles when you had asked your previous suitors for it, and you don’t doubt that words have spread about it, so what gives? And then they have the audacity to act as if you were the one that’s wasting their time when you’ve made it very clear that you will not be interested in their advances unless they’ve accomplished the task first. It's not your fault that none of them are competent enough to get it, and it's certainly not your duty to humor them when they can't even do this one thing you've asked. If anything, it just shows you that they think they could change your mind so easily with their silly little gifts and that really soured your mood that you could barely bring yourself to feign a smile right now.

"What's this now?" you asked, your sweet tone barely masked the irritation that nearly seeped out of your voice as you glanced down at the box on his squire's hand before he presents what's inside for you. Oh, great, it's another necklace— judging from the deep red color of the gem, it's most likely one of those rare, enchanted blood rubies. You’ve only seen one in person before, and as beautiful as it is, it’s still not the manticore heart that you’d asked.

"It's an enchanted blood ruby necklace, Princess," Lord Errick confirmed your guess with such a prideful tone as if none of the previous suitors had tried to win your favor with enchanted items. "It's very rare and hard to acquire, a gem fitting for a beautiful Princess like you."

"Ah, it is quite lovely indeed," you hum in feigned interest before you glanced at him. There was a brief silence between you two as you lean back against your father’s throne before you spoke again. "If it is truly so difficult to acquire this, would you agree when I say that I deserve only the best?"

"Why, of course, Princess! I would not dare to think anything less!"

"Really? Do you really think so?"

You tilt your head, your smile fading considerably as you give him an unimpressed look. This caused him to pause, as he begun to panic internally. Had he said something to upset you? You’ve always been a bit unpredictable, so he’d tried his best to say nothing but flattery to you, and yet even despite that, he had somehow managed to push the wrong button. You can see that he’s not the only one thinking this, either, as the air in the throne room became thick with tension from the hostile look you’re giving him.

"Yes...? That's what I really think, Princess," he answered hesitantly, your cold gaze chipping away at his confidence, turning the smile on his face into an uncertain grimace.

You didn't say anything for what felt like an eternity for the poor Lord, wordlessly staring at him as though you're giving him a chance to think where he went wrong. And frankly, you are. You want to see if he could use his head to figure out why you're so displeased by his attempt to win your hand.

The silence slowly grows suffocating as you began to see that the other suitors behind him are also starting to shift around anxiously, which tells you that they all know what this is about. You don't feel bad for causing them such discomfort— why should you when they were the ones that decided to waste your time like this?

You let out yet another heavy sigh, your manicured nails tapping impatiently on the armrest as you stared at your disappointing suitors. "I must say that I am deeply disappointed, gentlemen. I thought I've made my requirement clear, but it seems that neither of you had accomplished—"

You had to stop yourself from absolutely losing your temper as the huge double doors to the throne room is slammed open, startling the Lords that were already tense from your clear disapproval of their gifts and interrupting your sentence. The way the Lords nearly jumped looked pretty comical to you, and you would've laughed if you're not pissed off. Who dares to barge in into the throne room like this?

Your question was soon answered when you realized that you do in fact recognize your uninvited guest, and the sight was so surprising to you that you immediately forgot about your anger.

Dorian. Not the elegant Dorian you knew, but one with glowing blue eyes, messy hair, clothes ripped and although it seemed like he tried to clean himself up a bit, you still can see the stain of blood on his shirt. You’ve never seen him like this before, and you can’t deny that you find yourself liking this side of him. You can guess what probably happened just from your conversation with him two days ago and you subconsciously held your breath in anticipation as you wonder if he managed to accomplish the task.

You could barely keep the smile off your face as he walks toward you with purpose, his footsteps made no sound despite the deafening silence as your suitors stared at you with horror, fearing your reaction to this sudden intrusion. Does he have death wish? It's no secret that you’re quite ruthless when you're angry, and now he's here, all messy and uncouth while he practically stormed his way in. The Lords can only assume that he’d gone insane, as no sane man would do what he’s doing right now.

They were so focused on your reaction that they didn't seem to realize that Dorian didn’t just come here to scare them and make everyone question his sanity. You were the first to notice that he has something in his hand. Something that your so-called suitors had failed to acquire despite their “attempt” to win your heart, and something you had asked since the first time your mother decided that it's time for you to find a husband.

The Whitefang manticore's heart.

Without his usual grace, he threw it on the floor just beneath the stairs to the throne, eliciting a shocked and scandalized gasp from some of the Lords. Your guards don’t react kindly to it either, as they immediately reach for the hilt of their swords with alarmed look on their faces, thinking that this is some sort of threat as they’re aware that the both of you seemed to always have tension whenever the two of you are together, although they'd never considered the tension between the two of you to be the hostile sort of tension before this. But Dorian doesn't seem to care about their reaction— his intense gaze is fixed on you and only you, and you begin to wonder if he could hear how fast your heart is beating right now just from how excited you feel.

"There," he said gruffly, his deep voice makes your stomach stir. "The manticore's heart you've wanted so bad."

You nearly swoon. He got you the manticore's heart while he looks and sounds like that? It’s honestly a miracle how you managed to restrain yourself from jumping him, and not in the violent way either. You’ve always thought he looked heartbreakingly gorgeous, but now? He looks absolutely divine. Knowing that he most likely wouldn’t show this side of him often, you made sure to memorize every single detail of his appearance right now just so you can ask your personal painter to paint this image of him later.

“My, my,” you practically purred, the sweet, almost seductive sound causing his heart to flutter in his chest as he inhaled softly, trying his best to keep the annoyed look on his face. “What have we here? Do we finally have someone who takes this seriously? Color me shocked, Lord Dorian.”

“So, what now?”

You raised an eyebrow at his demanding tone, but he didn’t back down. He’s done what you’ve asked, and now he wants to know if you truly meant what you said. You’re not surprised by this— he never did find you intimidating no matter how ruthless you could be— and the delighted look in your eyes is enough to tell him that you are far from displeased by his boldness.

“What now?”

You tilt your head slightly to the side as you repeated his question before you stand up from the throne, a wicked grin formed on your face as you wonder if he realized what he just did. Whether he meant it or not, he had practically just announced that not only he is interested to court you to everyone here, but he had also showed that he’s willing to do just about anything to ensure that he’ll win your hand. After all these years of teasing and trying to get him to admit that he has feelings for you, you’ve finally won without having to lift a single finger and it feels exhilarating.

The clicks of your heels fill the heavy silence in the room as you approach him, and the closer you get, the tenser he became. At this point, he must’ve realized that he’d played right into your hand as the annoyed look on his face faltered, and even more so when he sees how smug you are as you made your way toward him. Suddenly, it feels like there’s only you and him in the throne room, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself other than to question his own decisions.

Why did he decide to hunt the manticore despite knowing how dangerous it was? Why did he feel the need to prove just how capable he is to you? He absolutely cannot stand you, so the thought of another man being able to accomplish this feat shouldn’t have bothered him that much… right? You are supposed to be the most vexing, wicked, and unpleasant woman that he’s even had the displeasure to know. So why is it that even now, he finds himself unable to tear his gaze away from you as you make your way to him?

His icy blue eyes are filled with uncertainty and doubt when he glanced down at you as you finally stand right in front of him— although he tries to look as unfazed as he could, the way his throat bobbed slightly as he nervously gulped didn’t go unnoticed by you, causing the glimmer of amusement in your eyes to become even more prominent. To other people, he might look dangerous right now, but unfortunately for him, you can read him far too well to feel intimidated by how insane he must’ve look right now.

You raise your hand, wanting to wipe the blood on his cheek but he swiftly grabs your wrist, which seems to have greatly alarmed the other Lords. Some of them let out a scandalized gasp, followed by some chaotic clamoring in the background. How dare he! Just barging into the throne room while you’re supposed to see your suitors is already outrageous as is, and now he dares to grab your wrist? Absolutely preposterous!

Few of the Lord began looking at the guards, as if silently demanding them to do something. This can’t be right, for the Princess to be touched by a beast, even if it’s just a grab on the wrist. But your guards did nothing despite their protest. They knew better than to interrupt this. The last time they tried to get between Dorian and you, you were so angry some of them still couldn’t look at you in the eyes until this day. And seeing how pleased you are by this, they knew that you don’t need any help and all they could do is try and calm down the complaining Lords who seem to assume that Dorian’s about to drain your blood if the guards wouldn’t do anything about him.

As for the both of you, neither of you said anything while you observed his expression. Dorian’s grip on your wrist might be firm enough for it to be a warning, but it is also still gentle enough to make sure he doesn’t accidentally hurt you with his immense strength. Despite the stern look he’s attempting to give you to salvage his wounded pride, you can easily see the conflicted look in his eyes and you began to grow hopeful that he’d let go of this foolish charade and just admit that he feels affection for you.

“Is the thought of you falling for me so horrible, Lord?” Even if you weren’t a half-fey with sharp hearing and can’t hear how his breath hitched in his throat, you doubt you’d be able to miss how he looked absolutely taken aback by your bold question. It was only a split second, but it was enough for you to confirm that he does indeed have feelings for you, even if he’s too prideful to admit it.

“... It is. You are the wicked woman that haunts me and will not allow me even a moment of peace—”

“Truly? Then why did you hunt down the manticore knowing full well that it’s the task that I had asked the Lords to do to win my hand?”

He opened his mouth, but nothing really came out as he doesn’t really know what to say about that. Deep down, he knows why, but knowing about it and admitting it are two vastly different things. A part of him is afraid— afraid that this is just one of your wicked games and that you’d mock him when he shows you his true feelings. What if you’d planned for this to happen? He wouldn’t be able to face anyone ever again if that is the case.

So, instead of saying the truth, he simply said, “I don’t know.”

“Oh, I think you do, my Lord. I think you do, but something is stopping you from being honest to me.”

As always, you managed to read him like an open book, and this greatly unnerved him. Your gaze softens, knowing that he feels extremely vulnerable right now. You need to approach this carefully lest you wish to scare him away. So, you lowered your hand, placing your other hand over his to give it a gentle, reassuring squeeze to show him that you’re here for him. That you won’t mock him if he decides to be open and honest with you. That despite your taunting words and silly games, deep down you truly care for him.

“What are you so afraid of, Dorian?”

Your voice was sincere and soft— it’s quiet enough to make sure no one would be able to hear you, but still loud enough for him to hear and for the first time, he genuinely looks devastated in front of you without any urgency to mask it from you. Just by looking at the sincere concern on your face right now, he realized that he has lost this battle against you. Try as he might, he simply couldn’t bring himself to hide anymore. Not when he feels as though you’re clutching his heart in your palm like this.

“It is true.” His voice was low, almost as quiet as yours when he finally spoke and you say nothing, intent on listening to what he has to say. “I am afraid. I’m afraid that this is just some sort of a cruel game to you, designed for your amusement and nothing more. I’m scared that if I ever show you even the slightest bit of vulnerability, you’ll sink your claws deeper and if that happens, I…” he trailed off, swallowing thickly as he tries to contain his emotions. “If I allow myself to admit what I feel for you, I fear I will not be able to let this go even when you’ve grown bored of our games. I fear I will never be able to forget you when I have to.”

You nod silently. A part of you had suspected that this was the case, but hearing it admit it to you really breaks your heart. Have you really been that cruel? You are aware of the games you’ve played, but despite everything, you’ve always enjoyed your time with him. And why wouldn’t you? Even when he pretended as though he couldn’t stand you, he would always give you his coat when you’re cold, and he would be the first to wield his sharp tongue without any hesitation when someone dared to step out of line and speak badly of you. In your eyes, he’s nothing short of perfection, so why can’t he see that?

“I am offended, Dorian,” you said, and your heart sank when you see his face fell that you had to quickly elaborate. “I am offended that despite all the years we’ve known each other, you somehow couldn’t see how dear you are to me. You know me, hopefully enough to know that I would not bother to pester someone I don’t care about. But perhaps it is not entirely your fault, as my attempts to get your attention might come off a bit… childish. That’s probably why you can’t really be sure of my intention, and I can’t blame you for it.”

His eyes widen in disbelief when you said that and you avert your gaze, clearly embarrassed by your own admission. You would never be caught dead admitting your faults, and yet here you are, acknowledging that perhaps your way of getting his attention caused him some confusion and uncertainty. If few days ago someone had told him that you would say anything like this to him, he would’ve laughed in their face and tell them that you’d sooner jump off a cliff with a dress made of rag. But here you are, opening yourself up for him like he did to you, and it completely threw him off.

“What I’m saying is, I will be more than pleased if you really do try to pursue a relationship with me,” you tried to explain just in case he still doesn’t get it, your impatience seeping through your voice. “Or, if you wish to continue this game of cat and mouse, I will—”

He didn’t let you finish your sentence before he pulls you by the waist and leans in to capture your lips, effectively stopping your rambling as your let out a small, surprised gasp.

Is this really happening? Did Dorian really just kiss you?

Your question was soon answered as you feel his lips move against yours. His lips are so soft, and his kiss is filled with so much longing and desperation that you can’t help but melt against him with a longing sigh of your own. Lord Dorian, who barely ever smiled in public, really kissed you in front of everyone. Such intimate display is highly inappropriate, but you’ve never been one to care about such silly rules, especially when you finally get what you’ve wanted for so long. You even clutched at his ripped shirt like your life depends on it, as if you’re still not satisfied with this and wants him even closer somehow despite the fact that you’re pressed flush against his front.

At this point, the captain of your guards already knows that it’s probably the best for everyone to leave. There’s no need for everyone to see this. You didn’t even realize how your guards are practically herding the complaining Lords out of the throne room, too invested with this new territory in your relationship with Dorian. It wasn’t until the both of you pulled away from the kiss that you finally realized that everyone had left the two of you alone, which makes you giggle in amusement, especially when you see how the tip of Dorian’s ears had reddened as if he had just realized that the other Lords most likely witnessed how he’d kissed you.

“Oh, is this amusing for you?” he chided playfully, his hands are still resting on your waist and he doesn’t seem to be interested to remove them.

“Way to show everyone that you’re claiming me, Dorian,” you teased, the mischievous grin on your face only grew as his cheeks turned red from your choice of words, especially combined with how you shamelessly running your fingers on the exposed skin of his chest.

“You should really watch your words, Princess. Someone might misunderstand if they hear you say that.”

“Let them,” you practically purred as you lean in to press soft kisses on his cheek that trailed down to his jawline, causing him to shiver a bit against you. “And am I wrong? I mean, you did accomplish the one task I’ve given for anyone to be able to win my hand, and practically showed it off in front of everyone.”

“I’m just saying you could’ve worded it differently, but who am I to tell the Princess what to do?”

“Mm. Smart. That’s why I like you.”

He can’t help but smile. Now that the cat’s out the bag and he has openly admitted his feelings for you, he can no longer pretend to be indifferent. Still, one question still bugs him in the back of his mind, and you can tell that something is bothering him just from the way his thumb is anxiously rubbing your skin. This earned him a raised eyebrow from you as you looked at him expectantly, silently urging him to just spit it out.

“I’m just… I’m wondering where we’re going with this. We’ve decided to move past our pretenses and be honest to each other, but… did you mean what you say when…?”

His words trailed off, but you understand exactly what he’s asking. It’s cute how he looks so nervous, you almost wanted to be mean and tease him for it, but you decided against it knowing how vulnerable and delicate he feels right now.

Perhaps another time, then.

“I mean everything I’ve said to you. But it is your choice whether you want me as your betrothed or not. If you do, we can talk to your father and mine about it, although I’m pretty sure words have spread at this point.”

You have no doubt in your mind that your father would be overjoyed to hear about this since he’s been subtly suggesting for you to choose Dorian as your future husband, and your mother would most likely be pleased as well as she had been urging you to get married, so you’re really not worried about your parents’ reaction to this news. Honestly, you’re more worried about how Dorian would feel when he realized that the nobles would talk about how he had showed up here today looking like a mess and kissed the Princess. He’s a private person, after all, so perhaps you should do something about them.

“Oh, no. I know that look. Please don’t try to kill anyone,” he said half-jokingly, drawing a small laugh from you. Little did he know, that was actually what you had in mind, but you figured he doesn’t need to know that now.

“Very well, only because you’ve asked so nicely. So, what is your choice? Shall we pay our fathers a visit?”

Your impatience didn’t miss his attention, and it surprised him a bit that you seem to be so eager to make it official with him. He’s not complaining about it, though. No, he’s far too delighted to complain since the fact that you’re so impatient means that his anxiety and fear were wrong about you. To say that he’s relieved would be an understatement, and he couldn’t agree faster to your proposal.

“I should probably change my clothes first, but yes, we shall pay them a visit.”

You nod in acknowledgement, practically beaming with excitement when he gently grabs your chin before pulling you in for another kiss as if to seal the deal. It seems that once again he managed to brighten your day, and you simply can’t wait for what the future holds for the both of you. Of course, there are still lots of things to arrange before you could make your betrothal official, but for now, you’re content to just have him with you.

#monster lover #monster romance #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #vampire x reader #vampire #self insert reader #female reader #drabbles #teratophillia #terato #exophilia #ngl I was tempted to make this more spicy but gotta keep it PG y'know #losing my mind rn #edit: JUST REALIZED I HAD A TYPO THIS IS MY LAST STRAWWWW

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sympateawithsugar · 7 months

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Binged Castlevania Nocturne. How delicious 🩸

#Castlevania #Castlevania Nocturne #Castlevania Netflix #Orlox #fanart #monster #vampire #my stuff #monster boyfriend #monsterfucker #exophilia

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ash-rigby · 7 months

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Really want to break the composure of a prim and proper vampire lord by sucking him off. Quiet gasps and subdued noises rising to moans. Back arching. Hips gracefully but desperately undulating. Head tossing back. Long hair splayed out on his pretty silk sheets. Shivering. Whimpering. Tears in those ancient, red eyes as they meet mine.

#text #spicy #terato #exophilia #vampire #imagine #monster imagine #vampire imagine #monster boyfriend imagine

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momolady · 1 year

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Florenz the Vampire Bat

An arranged marriage and a regal manor where sunlight cannot come in, sounds like it could be a nightmare. But it isn't, only in theory is this a bad situation for you to be in. The bite of reality is much better.

Female Reader x Male Monster (both cis)

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From your window you can look down upon the village you once called home. At night, the windows twinkle and shine from the lights within each home. In total darkness it almost appears as if the sky has nestled upon the ground, gathering itself between the cracks and nooks of the rocky mountainside. You are supposed to be within those craggy pathways, walking yourself to the market to buy the children pears and treats for all their hard work. Instead, you are in Florescu castle with a new master.

Stepping away from the window, you let the heavy curtains fall back into place. The curtains are to always remain closed, so the castle is always in the bounds of night. You walked back towards your bed, crawling in to pull the covers up and fix the pillows back in place.

As you set things right, pillows and stuffed toys, the door opened and Ms. Nita stepped in. She saw you making the bed and she tutted like always.

“Now, now! My lady!” She came in and shooed you off the bed. “You need not be taking care of that anymore. I’m shocked you even do.” She smoothed her hand down the comforters and looked back at you with those strange wide eyes of hers’.

You looked aside with a small shrug. “I don’t mind making it.”

Ms. Nita sighed, placing her hands upon her hips as she turned towards you. “You do a fine enough job, but it’s my job you are doing. I promised our lord to take good care of you.”

A small scowl appeared on your face and Ms. Nita took hold of your chin. “I know that no girl is fond of an arranged marriage. But chin up my dear. It could be worse. There are worse houses than the Florescu house to marry into.”

You looked Ms. Nita in her slightly bulbous eyes and removed her hand. “It isn't the marriage.”

“Then what’s the sour puss look about?” Ms. Nita went over to your wardrobe and took out clothing for you.

The dress she picked was much finer than the one before. Somehow your wardrobe was a vast and endless sea of pretty dresses in delicate patterns and soft pastels. You crossed your arms along your chest, rubbing your palms along your bare skin. The castle wasn’t cold, in fact it was always perfectly warm. But you still got chills every morning when you would meet your new husband for breakfast.

“Come now. Get dressed and I’ll do your hair.” Ms. Nita was a peculiar sort of woman. She was extremely pale, short, and round. But she was a miracle worker with your hair. She was able to take the tight curls you grew and style it carefully with thought. She had been given the job of taking care of you in the castle. And while the official weddings had taken place, your new husband had other traditions e wished to follow before he considered you both completely wed.

Breakfast wasn’t held in the dining hall. Instead, you took it in your husband’s chambers. He had a large table set up before his fireplace, and Ms. Nita would serve you both then leave to let you two be alone.

That morning as you walked in, you noticed your new husband standing before the fireplace. He was wearing a bright blue robe with golden stars carefully stitched all over it.

Ms. Nita scoffed as she stepped in with the breakfast cart. “You aren’t even dressed, my lord.”

He turned from the fireplace and the robe fell from his right shoulder. The fire glowed about his dark fur, and one of his clawed hands rested upon the downy fluff of his chest. “I slept awful, Ms. Nita. How am I supposed to face my gorgeous bride when I have not had an ounce of beauty sleep-” He stopped dead when he saw you standing by the table.

He quickly lifted up his robe over his shoulder and a soft smile appeared on his face. “I am to be taken off guard apparently.”

“You didn’t sleep well, Forenz?” You asked and took your seat at the table.

Florenz’s dark eyes shifted around before he moved towards his chair. “I hope you rested well at the very least.”

Ms. Nita placed food upon the table, shaking her head slowly.

“I slept,” you answered plainly. You were keeping a cool front, but inside it felt like your soul was being ripped to shreds. Your chest was tight and your stomach was in knots.

Florenz had no clue as to how you felt. “That’s good. I am glad to hear such good news.” He smiled at Ms. Nita as she placed a solitary cup before him. Meanwhile you had small plates placed in front of you as well as a pot of tea.

Ms. Nita left the room and only the sound of the crackling fire was left.

Florenz picked up his cup and glanced inside. You picked at your food, too anxious to eat, but knowing you must perform or else he might catch on.

“I know technically it isn’t morning. At least, not from what you are used to.” Florenz murmured as he gazed into his cup. “It will get easier once you acclimate. I am sorry you have to do that too. But being what I am, I have no choice over my schedule.” He laughed then quickly shut himself up.

You looked up from your plate, seeing a yellow gleam to his eyes from the light of the fire. His bat-like appearance didn’t bother you, not like they thought it would. The village saw all sorts of creatures wandering through it. You had grown up seeing them hiding and staring from the rocks and behind trees, as well as walking along the same streets you did.

“Are you adjusting well?” Florenz asked. “I mean, I know you are used to a certain lifestyle, a certain affluence, and I am trying to provide that comfort to you.”

“What do you mean? You’re far richer than the Domitry family.” You quickly shut your mouth and cleared your throat.

Florenz nodded, looking back down into his cup. “Yes, well, even that can take some getting used to. But you’ve barely asked me for anything aside from art supplies. You don’t need to be afraid to ask me for anything.”

“I don’t need much,” you murmured.

Florenz sighed and leaned back into his chair. His robe once again fell away from his shoulder. “Don’t take this the wrong way, dear wife, but I had expected you to be much more spoiled than you are.”

You chewed slowly on a piece of meat then drank some tea to help you swallow more easily. “I suppose one would.”

Florenz chuckled. “I was not told you were an artist, mostly that you enjoyed fashion and having a large wardrobe.”

That explained one thing, you thought to yourself.

“I would have been better prepared had I been told more about you. But from what your father told me, I assumed you would be-” He hesitated and finally took a sip from his cup.

You set your cup down. “Vain? Lazy? You already said spoiled.”

Florenz looked at you surprised. “I did not want to make such harsh judgments. But I am sorry if that offends you.”

“Not really,” you shrugged.

Florenz’s eyes narrowed. “I suppose you get that a lot?”

You sighed. “I’ve thought the same things.”

“I suppose you’re trying to…distance yourself from that sort of image. Correct?” His soft smile returned. “Because I think you are doing quite well.”

“Thank you.” You really weren’t sure how to respond.

Florenz took another drink from his glass. “Do you have plans today? I suppose you’ll be going back to your art.”

“I will be. Do you have business to take care of today?” You pushed yourself away from the table and smoothed your hand down your skirt.

“Unfortunately I do. There is much to take care of before the full moon. I want to make sure once it is here I will be able to have the time to spend with you.” He stood with his glass and walked over to you. He extended his clawed hand to help you rise from your chair.

If there had to be one thing you appreciated about your new husband, it was how tall he was. Back home in the village, you took after your father, who moved to the village when he was young. Most of the village, like your mother, was on the shorter side. You often stuck out like a sore thumb. Florenz’s height was nice to stand next to.

“Not much longer now. I suppose you are nervous.” Florenz opened the door for you.

He had no idea. “A little,” you lied.

Florenz smiled and you could see the sharp fangs in his mouth. “I too get butterflies. But there is nothing to worry about. I think you and I have a beautiful future together.”

You nodded. “I hope so.”

Florenz lifted your hand and dipped down to kiss the knuckles. His tail under his robe swished back and forth. “Have a good day, my wife.”

“You as well.” You waited until the doors were closed and then you let your body sag and slouch. You clutched your chest as you walked down the hallway. Everyday you felt he was closer to figuring it out.

Once you were back in your room you sat and cried for a spell. Once it felt the weight in your chest was relieved you took deep breaths. You missed your family, you missed your home, and you were angry about being placed here.

You weren’t supposed to be here. You weren’t even the right girl.

The door opened and you turned to see Ms. Nita with a glass of water. You tried to return to your formal posture, but it felt impossible.

“I can’t keep it up,” you whispered.

Ms. Nita handed you the water. “Keep what up?”

The glass was cold in your hands, it felt nice after all the tightness and fear you held during breakfast. “I can’t tell you.”

Ms. Nita flitted about the bedroom, checking for dust while also taking out another outfit for you to wear while you worked on your artwork. “You said the marriage didn’t bother you. Then what is it? The hours? The altitude? Trust me, you will grow used to both.”

“I really can’t say.”

Ms. Nita stood and put her hands upon her round hips. “If you cannot say, then perhaps I can guess.” She pulled up another chair and sat before you. She looked you over with a very studious gaze that made you feel uneasy.

“Making your bed every morning has never settled right with me. Girls from wealthy families like yours barely know how to wipe their noses, let alone tuck a sheet properly.” her large eyes kept gliding over you. “You’re very modest for a rich girl as well. You seemed shocked by your clothing.” She folded her arms against her chest. “Are you rich?”

You bit the inside of your cheek.

“You aren’t, are you?” Ms. Nita whispered.

You looked at her with fear.

Ms. Nita sighed. “Oh dear. Oh, dear, dear, dear.” She clicked her tongue then held her jaw tight. “That foolish old mule pulled a grand switch didn’t he?. So what are you? A maid? A cook?”

“I was a governess to his younger children,” you admitted weakly. “But please. You can’t tell Master Florescu. Lord Domitry promised to give my mother money. My little sister is sick-”

Ms. Nita raised her hand. “Why did Domitry do it?”

You sniffled. “His daughter refused. She destroyed his office in a fit, and since we both looked similar he thought-” Your throat tightened up as you spoke.

She sighed. “That sounds like the real bride we were told about. Can’t say I’m surprised.” Ms. Nita stood up from her seat. “Lord Florenz deserves to know the truth of the matter.”

“No! Please!” You jumped to stand. “If he finds out, then Lord Domitry will stop providing money to my family. I won’t have a job anymore! My family relies on me.”

Ms. Nita gave you a cold look. “My master has been lied to. He’s been deceived. He was promised a bride.”

“And I am!” You exclaimed. “I am his bride. He would be happy with the one he was told, but he does have a bride as promised.”

Ms. Nita huffed. “Do you really think this would be the end of you if he found out? Domitry has made you a pawn, a victim. He used you to make a laughing stock out of Florenz. I have raised that man since he was a child. I raised his mother before him. The Florescu family is my family.” She jabbed her finger into your face.

“It guts me to think Florenz is in the dark. He’s no idiot, but he can be a fool.” She grumbled.

“I have not met a kind man with money,” you murmured.

Ms. Nita nodded. “I suppose you haven’t. Well, if Florenz is cruel, then I will deal with him.” She took your hand and patted it. “You have nothing to fear. Ms. Nita runs this estate more than young Florenz thinks.” She grabbed your hand and had you follow her back towards Florenz’s chambers.

She forced her way inside, no knock, no warning of your arrival. She strode in with confidence while you floundered behind her.

Florenz was getting dressed. He had on pants but his top half was bare. He squeaks as you both came in and he crossed his arms against his broad chest.

“Ms. Nita, what are you doing?!” He snapped.

“I have figured out a plot!” Ms. Nita raised up her arm, still clutchingyour hand.

You and Florenz looked at one another and his gaze went soft. “My dear, have you been crying?”

“Not the plot!” Ms. Nita snapped. She let go of your hand and paced around in front of Florenz. “I have discovered that Lord Domitry has played you for a fool!”

Florenz was still looked at you with concern, like he wanted to approach but his own partial nudity was making him embarrassed. “What?” he looked back down. “What was that, Ms. Nita?”

“Focus!” She snapped her fingers. “Look at her.” She waved her hands towards you. “Take her in. Think about all you know about her. I want you to think hard, Florenz. What about her stands out?”

You wait anxiously, folding your hands together and standing stiff as Florenz looks at you. His gaze is soft. Confused, but very much affectionate. His ears fold back as a shy smile appears.

“A lot of things. I’m very fond of my wife.”

Your heart isn’t sure in which direction it should go, and neither did you.

Ms. Nita scoffed. “No! She’s not a Domitry.”

Florenz’s eyes widened. He looked from you, to Ms. Nita, and back to you. “No! What? Come on now, Ms. Nita. No! Darling, what is she going on about?”

“She’s not a Domitry,” Ms. Nita repeated. “She worked for them.”

His whole body stiffened and the wings upon his back fluttered. Florenz looked at you again, eyes widened as he began to realize. “Oh,” he breathed “Oh!” He exclaimed.

Tears began to well up in your eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

Florenz took a few steps forward, a serious look upon his face. “So it’s true? Domitry pulled a grand switch on me.”

“That’s right.”

“Well,” Florenz muttered. “That's good then!”

Tears fell down your cheeks as Florenz approached you and placed his hand upon your shoulder. “I am much happier with you. But I do still have Domitry to deal with.”

You weren’t sure what to think.

“What do you plan on doing?” Ms. Nita asked. “Both with this girl and the Domitry family?”

“She’s my wife,” Florenz corrected. “I will be her husband and protect her. As for Domitry, this marriage was supposed to end the feud between our families. But I suppose, if he wants to play me for the fool, then he will live with the consequences.” He walked across the room and pulled on his robe again to cover himself.

You watched him in awe, still barely taking in his words. Florenz handed Ms. Nita a sealed document, which she took and gave him a nod.

“Send that directly to Domitry, he will know what it means.” Florenz placed his hand upon your back, turning you towards him as Ms. Nita left the room.

You were shaking, afraid of what would happen next.

Florenz cupped his hands around her face. “What do we need to do?” He asked. “You must have family back in the village. Should we bring them here for safe keeping? Perhaps once Domitry is dealt with, they can have his house. After all, I’d like us to be alone for the full moon.”

“What?” You voice shook.

Florenz smiled on you. “I may have been fooled into marrying you, but I do not regret it. I find myself falling for you.”

You had been so terrified of your secret getting out, you had barely had a chance to think of your own feelings for him. You sniffled, falling into his arms to cry with relief.

“It’s alright, my dear. I will take care of you, no matter what.” he sat with you upon his bed, stroking your back until you calmed. You fell asleep in his arms and woke up tucked into bed.

Across the room you saw him sitting at his table, looking over a stack of documents and an open tome. His ear twitched as you moved the blankets and he turned in your direction. He stood from the table and approached you.

“I hope you rested well,” he said gently.

You rubbed your eyes. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Hush now. You’re my wife, what’s mine is yours.” He placed a soft kiss upon your forehead.

“I’m so sorry-” You tried to apologize but he tapped a claw over your lips.

“You were forced into a corner. I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner.” He smoothed his palm up your cheek and tucked back loose curls.

“No, you don’t have anything to apologize for,” you murmured.

Florenz nodded. “Well, now that I am aware, let’s start back at the beginning.” He cupped your cheek in his palm. “I want to know you, the real you.”

You smiled brightly. “What do you want to know?”

“Your name might be nice.”

You chuckled, giving him your name.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured. “It suits you much better.” He snuggled with you upon the bed. “Now, do you really like clothes so much?”

“Not really,” you chuckled. “As silly as it is, I like stuffed toys.”

Florenz’s fangs showed as he smiled. “That’s much more interesting.”

////

Without the constant stress of being found out lingering over your head, you’ve been able to enjoy life at the castle much better. Especially since your sister is getting the care she needs. Once he knew the story, Florenz was happy to take care of everything. Even as the full moon ceremony loomed, he worked to take care of the troubles caused by Domitry.

“It won’t be the first time a Florenz marries someone outside their station,” Florenz told you.

You looked up from your easel, having set it up beside him at his work table. “What do you mean?”

Florenz’s large ears twitched back. “Ah, well you see, My great-great-grandfather fell in love with his cook. So he turned her into a duchess. Made all sorts of stories for her, turned her into quite the gem. Then my grandfather took after him and married my grandmother who had been a practicing nun.”

“A nun?” You giggled.

“Oh yes. She had come from a more esteemed family, but after they came to ruin she came to god until grandfather stepped into the picture.” Florenz turned back to his work. "I still make donations to the convent regularly.”

You smiled softly as you continued to work on your canvas. “And now, you’re going for a governess.”

Florenz sat still with a deep look of thought upon his face. “I would describe you more as an artist than a governess. But luckily, our story has a funny twist to it like the others.” He smiled at you, trapping you in a gazefor a long moment.

You grew shy the longer he stared. You smiled, and felt your face grow warmer. A nervous laugh then bubbled up. “What?”

“Just looking at you, my dear. I’m thinking about how lucky I am to actually like the person I am with.” His smile turned dreamy. “My parents were never fond of one another, so I always looked at my grandparents as inspiration.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you murmured.

Floren shrugged. “Yes, well, I think it all stemmed from the fact my parents were more inclined to their own. They had me and I think that’s the last time they shared a room.”

“Oh, I see.” You said softly.

Florenz’s ears twitched again. He looked up from his work, checking on you from the corner of his eye. “Do you think you’d prefer separate rooms when the full moon is over?”

You furrowed your brow. “What do you mean?”

Florenz glanced over at his bed. “Nothing. Ignore me and my babbling.”

You set your things aside and took off your apron, draping it over your chair. You then approached Florenz and placed your hand upon his shoulder. He twitched slightly, glancing down at your hand then looking back at his work.

“Are you worried I won’t want to sleep beside you?” You leaned down closer to him, slipping your arms around his neck. “Because I’ve thought about it.”

Florenz’s body went stiff and still. “You have?”

“Have you?” You spoke close to his ear which fell flat onto his head.

He turned to look at you and shrugged. “I would be a liar if I said I hadn’t. Especially considering how nervous I am for the full moon.”

“Then tell me about it.” You hugged him from behind. “I want to know.”

Florenz tapped your arms and he began to rise from his chair. You stood aside to let him up, wondering what he was going to do.

Florenz held out his clawed hand. “I’ll show you something.”

Taking his hand, he then led you through the castle, taking you further up than you had been before. You went into one of the towers, going all the way up the spiral staircase and through the door in the ceiling. Florenz let you up first and you stood in a room where the ceiling was entirely glass. The night sky was directly above you and the nearly full moon was so close you felt you could touch it!

“This is where we will start the ceremony,” Florenz murmured. He then motioned over to a massive bed in the back of the room that was covered by sapphire blue curtains. “We will spend all night there, and in the morning we will fall asleep there.”

This bit of news stunned you. “Isn’t that dangerous for you?”

Florenz waved his hand up to the glass. “During the night, this glass is clear. But during the day it will turn dark. An old family secret,” he chuckled.

“That’s amazing.”

Florenz walked over to the bed as you marveled at the night sky. He pulled back the curtains and stared inside. “I’m nervous about…being good enough.”

You looked back him. “Good enough at what?”

Florenz’s tail twitched behind him while his ears went flat against his head. “Being a husband is one thing,” he murmured. “But being your lover is something completely different. I have studied, and I have read up on the art. But studying and doing are two completely different beasts.”

You placed your hand upon his back and he shivered all over. Glancing down at you he saw the shy little smile upon your face.

He sighed. “I do not want the full moon to go to waste.”

“I have an idea,” you stepped closer to him. “What if we…practiced?”

His ears stood up.

“Is it against the rules? Because…I’m nervous too. But I don’t want you to be terrified and worrying on the important night.”

Florenz swallowed. “I suppose it’s not entirely against the rules.” He looked down at you. “I would call myself a hands-on learner anyways.”

A few nervous butterflies fluttered around in your tummy. “Then, maybe we could just…I don’t know, maybe just try a few things tonight?”

Florenz took in a deep breath and nodded. He extended out his arms and his robe fell from around his shoulders. “If you would like to, I am more than willing.”

You began pulling at the strings of your blouse, letting it fall open enough that Florenz could see the curve of your breasts. His robe fell upon the floor and he stretched his wings out a bit. His eyes focused upon you, seeing bits of you he had yet to spy.

“Let me help you.” He reached out, helping you remove your clothing. He did well with buttons, and as your skirt fell upon the floor he took a step back from you. Moonlight shown through your blouse and he could see the shape of you through the thin fabric.

Florenz cleared his throat and sat himself down upon the bed. He rubbed his hands over the tops of his thighs. Coming up closer to him, you slowly eased down upon his lap. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close and causing you to straddle his lap. You both shifted and laughed anxiously. Looking into one another's' eyes you grew silent again.

Florenz took the first kiss, plunging in as his hands grasped around your back. You leaned in, furthering the kiss as your hands went through the soft plumage of fur upon his broad chest. You sighed as your lips parted, and Florenz’s hands moved lower.

“Not so bad, huh?” he chuckled softly.

You shook your head. “I liked it.” You looked down at his chest, his dark fur turned pale in the center, leading a trail down his belly and into his pants. Your fingers traced the rim of his pants and Florenz shivered,

“Maybe we should…get fully naked,” you suggested with a crack to your voice. “Just to…” Your mind drifted.

“Yeah,” his voice fluttered. His hands went up under your blouse, touching bare skin. His lidded eyes glazed as he slightly pulled it up, glimpsing the bare bottom of your breasts. His hands dropped back down and he held back a smile as best he could.

“Okay, okay,” he breathed. “I can do this.” He moved you onto the bed so he could stand. He fumbled with his pants, losing grip a few times before he could get them loose. He tugged them down, keeping himself huddled over while your eyes were upon him.

You removed your blouse, sitting there naked with your arms crossed against your chest. You watched him rise up, standing his full height with his head partially hidden by the canopy. Your eyes traveled down his chest, his belly, down to the shadow against his groin.

“Dear,” he whispered.

You looked up as he knelt down to join you on the bed. You smiled to reassure him and lowered your head a bit.

“Are you cold?” He chuckled.

“A little.”

Florenz reached out, wrapping his arms around you. “Then let me warm you back up. It must be chilly without your clothes.”

You moved your arms, holding him as he held you. Two bare bodies pressed against one another. His fur was soft, and his body felt warm and strong.

“You’re so tender,” Florenz murmured. “So supple.”

Your cheeks burned. “Thank you.”

Florenz’s grip tightened around you and he buried his face into the curve of your neck. You whimpered softly as his cool breath beat upon your skin. You stroked your hand up the back of his neck and moved the other around his waist.

“Florenz,” you whispered.

He lifted his head, looking deep into your eyes. He cupped his hand around your cheek as his breathing began to even. “I was hoping this would help my nerves. But it feels as though it has only added to them.” He looked down your body with a look of lust. “Now I worry I will have no control over myself.”

You bit your lip. “How so?”

“I will turn into a beast.” His finger trailed down your neck, onto your chest, then glided between your breasts. “I will feast upon your body, and never quite satisfy my hunger for it.” His eyes flicked back to yours. “For you.”

You swallowed and remembered to breathe. “That doesn’t sound all that bad.”

“But it is. I do not know what I am capable of. Only that I now have the drive to do it.” He brushed his knuckles against your breast, eliciting a stuck breath in your chest. He laid you down upon the bed, stroking his hands down your body until he came to your thighs. He opened them with a gentle touch, moving his palms down your soft skin.

Florenz moaned to himself, licking down your supple thigh and rising back up with kisses upon it. He looked back into your eyes, staring up helplessly from the bed. His long tongue lapped over your skin again.

“Do you mind if I taste you, my dear?” He breathed.

You shook your head. “Go ahead.”

His mouth opened wide along your thigh, revealing his sharp fangs and teeth. He bit into the soft flesh, which only hurt for a moment. Then it turned into warmth and soft tingling. His mouth was pressed against you, tasting your blood as it beaded from the bite mark.

Florenz moaned, his body arching and writhing as he drank. He lifted his head from your thigh, pressing more kisses before he took another bite, much lower than the first. He moaned again, and those vibrations against you traveled up your body.

He licked his lips, letting out a shuddering breath. “Sweet is the nectar, but how is your wine?” He reached down, pulling open your plump mound to see inside. Wetness has gathered around the lips, and has given you a delicate glaze.

“You’ve become just as aroused as I have.” Florenz licked the corner of his mouth.

You shivered, watching his eyes then lookin down.

“Do you want me to touch you?” He breathed.

You swallowed again and nodded. “Yes.”

He looked into your eyes. “I didn’t hear that, my dear. Do you mind saying it again for me? Much louder this time.”

You gathered up your courage, hoping your voice didn’t break as you tried to speak. “Please touch me. I don’t know why, but your bites, they-” Your couldn’t bring yourself to say the words.

“Did you like that?” Florenz lowered down again. He kissed your breast, suckling it before trailing kisses down your belly. “I’ve never tasted anything as delicious as you.” He used his knuckles to open you, careful of his claws to not scrape your skin. His knuckle rubbed against the top of your folds. You writhed a bit, whimpering loudly at the touch.

“You appear to be quite sensitive, my dear.” Florenz sat back up and took a breath. “I appear to be getting drunk upon it.”

You swallowed again, trying to catch your breath. “It’s okay. I suggested we…that we do this.”

Florenz laughed softly. “I did not expect it to go so well. So temptingly.”

You stroked your hand down your body, making sure he saw. His eyes followed your fingers, watching them as you began to touch yourself. He focused intently while you circled around your clit, dipping your fingers inside before returning.

He spread his thighs, showing you what hung between them. His cock bobbed heavily in the shadows, a deep, dark red with purple veins. The head of it flared slightly, and the base tapered into a slight bulge at the base. He took the shaft into his hand, stroking slowly as he watched your fingers.

You then opened your arms beckoning him to come close to you. His eyes widened, slightly glowing in the dark. He lowered himself down upon you, kissing you and embracing you as your bodies pressed together.

You stretched out your neck, letting Florenz bury his face there. Another bite and you moaned loudly, arching your back as Florenz grabbed tighter around you. Your bodies pressed tight together as he bit again. You gasped for breath, shuddering as his claws sank into your rear, angling you closer, mounting himself at the ready.

A quick pulse was all it took. A snake in your ear, a fluttering of your lids, and you and Florenz were inseparable. You stayed still, both quivering and aching for the next move, but savoring that first, sweet moment for as long as possible.

“You’re so warm,” his voice quaked. “I’ve never felt this-”

You held on tight to him, aching slightly from him being inside you. But it was a good sort of pain, just like when he bit you. “Keep going,” you urged. “It’s…it’s good.”

Florenz moved shakily, unsure at first. He took his time, finding himself a bit more confident as it felt better. The more fluid he moved, the more you felt as well. He fit snug inside you, so you were able to feel every inch of him. You closed your eyes, focusing on that pleasure as he pressed into you. He went deep, then stayed shallow, just to test what felt best.

He went still again, holding his breath.

“What is it?” You whimpered.

“I’ll come if I’m not careful,” he whispered. “I want to keep enjoying this.”

You stroked your hand down his back. “Can you only do it once in your whole life?”

“No. That’s not-” He chuckled. “I can do it many, many times.”

You smiled. “Then do it again when you are done.”

His eyes widened. “But…I thought this was just practice?”

You pulled him down close, kissing him until you felt a shudder inside. His mouth hung open, and he pulled out, releasing upon your thigh and belly. His body grew limp, and the expression on his face was more cute than erotic.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I’ll clean that up.” He took his pants, using them to mop up his mess. He then touched your loins, seeing them swollen with arousal. “What do I need to do now?”

“Touch me.” You wriggled your hips.

He rubbed his knuckle to your clit again, gently nudging it as he watched your wetness seep down onto the sheets. His eyes lidded watching and he lowered down, kissing and licking softly. You whimpered out loudly, panting deeply as the kisses grew harder. He suckled upon you, moaning softly as your thighs closed around his head. You trembled, arching slightly then pushing him away.

You fell back, breathing hard as Florenz wiped his mouth. “Was that…good?”

You nodded, covering your head with your arms.

Florenz rolled you onto your back again and smiled down upon you. “I’m glad we practiced.”

“Me too,” you breathed. “Now…you won’t be so nervous on the full moon.”

He kissed your breasts and then your lips. “Can we practice again before then?”

You giggled. “Maybe.”

Florenz laid down beside you, wrapping his wing around you to cover you. “At least…could I taste you again?”

You smiled shyly at him. “Did I really taste good?”

“You tasted amazing.” he nuzzled into the curve of your neck again. “So warm and soft upon my tongue. Your blood was like velvet.”

You sighed dreamily as he pressed closer. “That sounds nice.”

“Because it’s yours.” He kissed your neck and then nuzzled to your hair. “Because it’s you, I want you.”

“It was…good wasn’t it?” You said shyly. “Being entwined like that felt better than I expected. I had been told my first time would be painful. But you…even your bites felt good to me. But when you were inside me…I was shocked by how much I liked it.”

Florenz smiled proudly. “It was an experience. So wet and sweet,” he breathed. “So warm and…and deep.” he swallowed. “I need to be careful.”

“Is something wrong?” You asked.

He nodded then shook his head. “I’ll be fine.” He laid back down beside you. “Now that my nerves are gone, I suppose I am a bit more excitable.”

You smiled. “I see.” Rolling over you curled up against his body. “I uhm…I wouldn’t mind if you got excited again. I mean, what else have we to do today anyways?”

“Nothing I suppose.” he gave you a soft delicate kiss. “We should be careful though. I would hate for Ms. Nita to come looking for us and find us in the middle of practicing.”

You giggled and placed your arms around him. “Then let's close the curtains.”

#exophilia #tertophilia #monster fucker #vampire #vampire boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster romance #teratophilia writing #exophilia writing #vampire writing #momolady monsters #my writing

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otherworldly-tresses · 5 months

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A powerful vampire at a ball feeding off you on the balcony while their cold fingers caress the skin underneath your clothes

#monsterfucker #monsterfucking #exophilia #monster fucker #monster fucking #monster kink #terato #monster lover #nsft #vampire

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eruden-writes · 1 year

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#exophilia #monster lover #monster fucker #monster romance #werewolf #vampire #eldritch #demon #monster #monsters #fantasy #science fiction #sci fi #polls #poll

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mxnsterbabe · 7 days

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Male Vampire/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 3,656 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You've been told never to invite Beau inside the Halfway House, and you don't plan to. Except, he finds a way inside anyway - and he might not be all that you thought.

The chill of the winter evening bit at your skin as you stepped off the final leg of your journey, the quaint silhouette of Esmeralda's Halfway House emerging through the mist. Your day had been a mess of minor misfortunes; trains delayed by the winter weather, connections missed by mere moments. Now, well past dinner, the glow from the windows of the halfway house promised a sanctuary from the cold.

Miss Esmeralda, upon opening the door, was like a burst of summer in the heart of winter. Her welcoming smile, wide and genuine, immediately enveloped you in a warmth that the evening's frost could not penetrate. "You must be frozen," she exclaimed, her concern palpable as she ushered you inside, the door closing with a reassuring thud behind you.

The interior of the house was a contrast to the bleakness outside. Warm light bathed the walls, casting long, comforting shadows that danced gently in the periphery. Esmeralda led you through the hallway, her steps confident and inviting, to a room that she announced would be yours. It was a modest space, but the attention to comfort was evident in every detail—from the plush quilt on the bed to the soft, amber glow of the bedside lamp.

"I'll have someone bring your bags up shortly," Esmeralda promised, her voice carrying the cadence of someone who had spent a lifetime caring for others. "You settle in. Make yourself at home."

Despite the lateness of the hour, Esmeralda insisted on introducing you to a few of the residents who lingered in the communal areas, their night not yet drawn to a close. First were the twin gargoyles, Olivier and Laurent. They perched on the edge of a sturdy oak table, their forms more fluid than one might expect from creatures of stone. Their greeting was a chorus of nods, their expressions carved into gentle smirks that hinted at a playful nature beneath their statuesque exteriors.

Then there was Camilla, the dryad, who seemed almost a part of the house itself as she shyly hid in the shadows. She was reserved, her demeanour as delicate as the frost patterns on a windowpane, yet her smile towards you was warm, inviting—a silent welcome into this eclectic family.

Esmeralda explained that the other residents had already retired for the evening. The house, she shared, was a refuge not just for those who found themselves at the mercy of circumstance but also for those seeking redemption.

As Esmeralda guided you through the house, she pointed out the key areas with a sense of pride. The kitchen, she explained, was the heart of the home, where you'd spend most of your time crafting meals that brought everyone together. It was spacious and well-equipped, with pots hanging like metallic fruit from the ceiling and herbs lining the windowsill, their scents mingling in the warm air.

Next was the library, a cosy room lined with shelves that reached towards the high ceiling, filled with books of every imaginable genre. "A place for quiet reflection," Esmeralda remarked, her voice softening with reverence for the written word.

As you admired the library's stained glass window, a sudden noise from outside momentarily distracted you.

Esmeralda's expression tightened, a rare frown crossing her features. "That's only Beau," she said, her tone carrying a hint of discomfort. "An old guest who's no longer welcome here. Just don't invite him in or speak to him, and you'll be fine."

The warning piqued your curiosity, but before you could inquire further, your gaze was drawn to a fleeting image outside the library window—a figure with long white hair that caught the moonlight, creating an almost ethereal glow.

Miss Esmeralda, perhaps sensing your lingering curiosity about the figure outside, quickly steered the tour towards the living room and game room. The living area was spacious yet cosy, with plush sofas and a crackling fireplace that seemed to invite long, comfortable evenings. The game room boasted an eclectic mix of entertainment, from vintage board games to a well-worn pool table, clearly designed to bring joy and relaxation to its inhabitants.

As she showed you around, Esmeralda shared a bit of the house's history. "This was originally my grandmother's home, then it passed to my mother. My parents transformed it into this halfway house about fifty years ago, and now... it's mine," she explained, her voice tinged with a mixture of pride and nostalgia.

The warmth in her words prompted you to ask, "Are you human, Miss Esmeralda?" The question had been dancing on the tip of your tongue since you'd arrived, given the unique nature of the halfway house's residents.

With a playful twinkle in her eye, Esmeralda winked and replied, "You'll have to stay long enough to find out."

Feeling the conversation shift away from the enigmatic Beau, you found yourself smiling, the tension eased by Esmeralda's charm and the homely feel of the house.

After Esmeralda excused herself to attend to other matters, promising to let you settle in, you wandered back to the library, drawn by the promise of losing yourself in a good book. The room, with its walls of stories and the gentle hush that filled the air, felt like a refuge.

As you browsed the shelves, the sight of an open window caught your attention, the night breeze causing the curtains to flutter softly. A shiver ran down your spine, not from the cold, but from the reminder of the white-haired figure.

As you reached for the window to close it, a voice drifted in from the darkness, its tone laced with a quiet desperation. "Please, may I come in?"

The owner of the voice was just a slender silhouette against the blackness, elusive and barely discernible. Your heart raced, Esmeralda's warning echoing in your mind. With a steadiness you didn't feel, you responded, "I'm sorry, I can't let you in."

The figure outside seemed undeterred, their plea softening. "I only wish to apologise to Miss Esmeralda, you understand. She won't listen."

Despite the sincerity in the voice, your anxiety held firm, a tight knot in your stomach. "No, I really can't let you in." you repeated, your voice firmer this time, even as you reached to close the window fully.

The soft glow from the library's lamp illuminated slender fingers and manicured nails resting against the window sill, adorned with a single silver ring that caught the light. The sight of such human-like hands made your stomach flutter.

Before they could say anything else, your shaking hands slammed the window closed. Then you turned heel and ran, the idea of choosing a book now abandoned in the wake of your frayed nerves.

Retreating to the sanctuary of your room, you changed into pyjamas, unwilling to let yourself think about the man outside for too long. If you did, then you’d start to over think, and that never ended well. It was difficult not to think about those strange, elongated fingers though, or the soft voice that asked may I come in?

Crawling into bed, the quiet of the house enveloped you; but the peace you wanted remained elusive.

As sleep finally claimed you, you wondered if there was more to all of this than Miss Esmeralda was letting on.

***

Waking early the next morning, you felt a sense of purpose as you made your way to the kitchen, determined to start your day on a positive note by preparing breakfast for the house.

Camilla, the dryad with sparkling skin, joined you silently as you were looking for the seasonings. Without words, she guided you through the kitchen, her delicate hands pointing out where the essentials were stored, her silent efficiency easing your way.

As the house slowly woke and the residents gathered to eat, the kitchen became a hub of quiet activity, the sounds of morning routines weaving together in a symphony of new beginnings. With your own plate in hand, you decided to use the opportunity to explore.

Wandering the halls with a sense of curiosity, you stumbled upon a little side room, its door slightly ajar, inviting exploration. Pushing it open, you discovered a small living room, much smaller than the other rooms you’d seen.

The room was bathed in soft, natural light from a skylight above, casting gentle shadows across the plush armchairs. A small bookshelf lined one wall, its shelves filled with well-thumbed novels and worn poetry collections, the scent of old paper and whispered stories filling the air. In the corner, a small fireplace, dusty with misuse.

Above the fireplace, a painting caught your eye, its figures rendered with such lifelike precision they seemed almost ready to step out of the frame. There was an older man and woman — she in a gown with wide, voluminous skirts, a bodice laced tight, and he in a coat with elaborate cuffs and a waistcoat richly embroidered.

They were both smiling.

Beside them stood a curly-haired girl, her face eerily similar to Esmeralda. She even had the same mole beneath her left eye, the same quirk to her lips.

A boy, no more than ten, stood beside her, his pale blond hair falling over his eyes. His pose was casual, a hint of mischief in his smile.

As you stared up at the painting, a voice startled you. "That was my family, centuries ago," Esmeralda’s voice said, and you spun to see her smile tinged with sadness as she joined you in front of the painting.

You turned to her, the pieces of the puzzle beginning to fit together in your mind. "Centuries?" you echoed, the implications slowly dawning on you.

"Yes, my brother and I were turned into vampires when we were still quite young. Our parents, however, remained human... They grew old and passed away, leaving us with this legacy."

You swallowed thickly. You were at a halfway house for monsters, you reminded yourself. It made sense that the host was one, too.

"And the house?” You asked. “You mentioned it was your grandmother's."

A soft laugh escaped her, tinged with memories. "Indeed, it was. Just... a bit more long ago than you might think. This house has been in our family since it was built in the sixteenth century, until it became the refuge it is today."

Your shock must have mirrored on your face, because Esmeralda laughed softly.

"It all makes sense now," you murmured, suddenly too aware of the shaking in your hands. Your plate rattled when you set it down.

Hesitantly, you pointed to the boy in the painting, the one with the pale blond hair and piercing blue eyes. "Him? I have a feeling I know who that might be..."

Esmeralda's expression darkened slightly, a shadow passing over her features. "Yes, that's Beau," she confirmed, her voice heavy. "He was part of this family, once. I had to make the difficult decision to ask him to leave. He... he started feeding on some of the guests in their sleep."

You shivered.

"He was found out because one of the guests was a werewolf. The blood made Beau violently ill, and that's when we discovered what he had been doing."

You were beginning to wonder what you’d gotten yourself into. "When I spoke to him, “you said, “he seemed genuinely regretful.”

Esmeralda's eyes widened, lips parted in a gasp. "You've been speaking to him?" The idea seemed to alarm her more than it should have "Please, I must insist—Beau is not to be trusted. His regret, while it may seem genuine, comes after too much harm has been done. It's best to keep your distance, for your own safety."

"What harm can talking do?" you pressed. "Don't vampires need an invitation to come in? I haven't invited him in."

Esmeralda nodded, her expression grave. "Yes, they must be invited; but you must understand, an invitation, once given, can only be revoked by the owner of the house. If you, even unknowingly, invite him in… I won’t necessarily be there to help."

The weight of her words settled heavily between you. "So, I shouldn’t even risk it?” you asked softly.

"Exactly," Esmeralda confirmed, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. "Keep the windows closed at all times, and do not venture outside after dark. You’re the only human here; it's for your safety as much as it is for the safety of everyone in this house."

Despite your protests, your inclination to see the good in others, Esmeralda remained insistent. She gently but firmly steered you out of the room, back towards the kitchen, her protective stance unwavering.

The conversation was clearly over, the warning issued with a finality that left coldness creeping into your bones.

***

Several days passed before curiosity and a longing for the library overcame your apprehension. The space, with its endless rows of books, eventually beckoned you back.

It seemed the library wasn't a popular haunt among the residents; Olivier and Laurent preferred the game room, while Camilla, with her gentle nature, kept mostly to herself.

So, you found yourself alone, the quiet of the room wrapping around you like a familiar blanket. You browsed the shelves, deliberately avoiding the windows, still mindful of Esmeralda's warnings.

However, as you moved through the room, you noticed the curtains at one window were tangled. Compelled to fix them, you approached, your hands reaching out to untangle the fabric. That's when you heard it—a soft tap, barely audible, at the window.

Your first instinct was to ignore it, to listen to Esmeralda's warnings and walk away. Yet, curiosity gnawed at you, coupled with a sliver of hope that perhaps Esmeralda was wrong. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for understanding.

You opened the window just enough to speak, cautious yet driven by a desire to understand. Beau, standing just beyond the reach of the library's soft light, seemed to exhale a sigh of relief at the small concession.

"I appreciate this... truly," Beau began, his voice smooth yet tinged with sincerity. "It's been a long time since anyone at Esmeralda's has been willing to hear me out."

You hesitated before replying, "Esmeralda did mention you, but it was more a warning to stay away from you than anything else." The words felt harsh even as they hung in the air, but you felt compelled to be honest.

His shadow flinched. "That makes sense," he conceded. "I suppose I can't blame her. I did things I'm not proud of. Continue to do things I’m not proud of."

You said nothing, even as your pulse thundered in your ears.

He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts before continuing. "There was a reason for it all, I assure you. Esmeralda thought we could... wean ourselves off human blood. She managed, somewhat, to control her urges. For me, it was never that simple."

You leaned closer to the crack in the window, maintaining a cautious distance, pulse thudding. "What do you mean?"

His pale eyes flashed in the darkness. They were almost iridescent, pearly and beautiful.

Captivated, you leaned in closer, elbows resting on the windowsill.

"For Esmeralda, being turned was a gift," he began, his voice carrying a hint of both admiration and envy. "It gave her a chance to be more, to escape the confines of what society expected of her. She's flourished over the centuries, becoming... well, more than I think even she anticipated."

He paused, and you just barely saw sharp teeth and a gleaming, albeit humourless, smile. "For me, it wasn't the same. I've always been in her shadow, struggling to find my place, to define who I am beyond this... condition."

The vulnerability in his confession made you shiver, longing to reach out and take his hand. To apologise for all that had happened to him.

"My bloodlust is stronger than hers, it always has been. Drinking from the residents in their sleep—it was a way to cope, to stave off the hunger without losing myself to it. I was terrified of what might happen if I let the hunger control me, though thankfully, it never came to that."

Sympathy tugged at your heart, tears prickling the corner of your eyes. It seemed to you that Beau was a product of his creation, not somebody who wanted to cause harm.

"If only I could tell her in person,” he said, “speak to Esmeralda face to face, and tell her I'm sorry.”

You bit the inside of your lip, knowing how futile that was. “Esmeralda won’t speak to you. You’d have to come in and hunt her down yourself—”

His eyes flashed, and too late you realised what you’d done. Cold dread filled you. “Wait! No, I wasn’t asking you to actually do that!”

Too late. Suddenly the window, previously only cracked open, swung wider, the cold night air rushing in. Before you could react, a figure gracefully manoeuvred through the opening, long coat billowing in the breeze.

Standing before you was Beau, in the flesh. He was tall and willowy, his pale skin almost luminescent in the dim light of the library. His white-blond hair was braided, falling over one shoulder in a cascade of pale silk. It was his eyes that truly captivated you, though; pale to the point of being almost purple, his pupils black against the soft lilac.

"Thank you for letting me in," Beau said with a smirk. “It was so kind of you.”

You stepped back with a jolt, knees buckling; but before you could retreat further, Beau closed the distance with a single, fluid motion, wrapping his long arms and pulling you flush against his strong chest.

In that moment, every cautionary tale, every warning about vampires you'd ever heard, flashed through your mind. You braced yourself for the sharp pain of fangs, for the sensation of being drained.

It never came. Instead, there was only the warmth of his embrace, the softness of his hair brushing against your cheek, and the steady beat of a heart you hadn't expected him to possess.

"I've been staying in a cottage further down the road," Beau murmured into the embrace, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "Finally, I'm home."

Hesitantly, your arms lifted to return the embrace, wrapping around Beau in a tentative gesture. It was clear from the tension that slowly ebbed away from his frame that he needed this little moment to gather himself.

Then, without warning, Beau's lips found yours in a kiss that took your breath away. For a moment, you were frozen, shock coursing through you; but as the kiss deepened, the initial astonishment gave way to a warmth that unfurled in you, your body responding to his with a warmth that left you baffled.

The kiss was gentle even as his fangs clicked against your own duller teeth. There was no taste of blood, no hint of the predator in the way he kissed you. Instead, there was the delicate flavour of herbal tea and sugar, sweet and perfumed.

When he finally pulled away, there was a smug satisfaction in his smirk, a playful glint in his pale eyes. "Just a little thank you," he murmured, brushing hair from your face. “For letting me inside.”

"You do realise I didn't mean to invite you in," you managed to say, half-hearted irritation mingling with the lingering warmth from his kiss.

Beau's response came with a sly, teasing edge. "Consider it a warning, then. Not all vampires are as charming and handsome as I am."

Your laughter broke the tension, a sound that seemed to delight him. His hand came up to cup your jaw gently, a gesture that was both tender and possessive. The cool touch of his fingers sent a shiver down your spine, not from fear, but from the electricity that seemed to spark between you.

"Won't you talk to Esmeralda now?" you asked, hoping to steer the conversation back to safer grounds, to the apology he had insisted he needed to make.

"No, that can wait," Beau replied, his gaze locked with yours. "What I really wanted was to get a good look at you. I must say, I like what I see."

The boldness of his words, the unabashed way he admired you, stirred something deep within you—it wasn’t something you could name, but it had warmth spreading through you.

Before you could voice a protest, he leaned in for another kiss. This time, you were ready for it, the anticipation sending a flush across your skin.

The kiss deepened, Beau's lips pressing against yours with a fervour that was absent in the first. Although his hands were gentle, he gripped you with a purpose, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. The sensation was heady, intoxicating, the kind of kiss that made you forget where you were, that there was a world beyond the two of you.

When you finally came up for air, you were breathless, a sheen of sweat on your skin despite the cool air of the library.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a kiss quite that good.”

Laughter spilled from your lips, as you pressed into his chest to avoid meeting his gaze. “Really?”

“Really.”

There was a pause, long enough that you glanced up to see if Beau was all right. He looked down at you, gaze soft, and confessed, "I don't know if I can make things right with Esmeralda... but I want to try."

The vulnerability tugged at something deep within you. "I'll help you," you said. "But only If I can keep kissing you like that."

Beau's laughter was rich and carefree, dispelling any lingering tension. "Of course," he promised, his smile both wicked and tender. "There will be plenty more kisses like that, I assure you."

“Good. Then how about we start now?”

Without hesitation, he dove in for another kiss.

#monster fucker #monster x reader #monster romance #monster boyfriend #exophilia fiction #exophilia #tag: mxf #tag: male monster #tag: female reader #tag: vampire #tag: sfw

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monstersandmaw · 6 months

Text

Male dullahan x gn reader (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

OH boy, this is a personal one for me on a number of levels (which usually means it's gonna tank), but here's the first of my five new commissions - this one is for the incredibly supportive and sweet @doomfisthero.

It features one of the Supernatural Biker Gang I mentioned in this post, which a lot of you seemed to like, so I hope you're keen to meet the cheeky, goofball dullahan with a heart of gold! Not gonna lie, I went way over the agreed wordcount for this one because it's the world I've already started building, and it's got characters I've already been thinking of for a while.

Content: gender neutral reader who experiences severe anxiety around being pranked/practical joked, which occurs at one point in the story. There’s no malicious intent or bullying behind the prank, and it gets discussed afterwards. The reader is a writer, doing research for a story about bikers, and has no idea that there's something a little 'extra' about this gang. Their friend, Adi, is dating one of them already, and I hope to write their story soon too.

Wordcount: 9216

“God, this was such a stupid idea,” you muttered as you approached the only shop on that wide, empty side street. Its metal sign swung gently back and forth in a light, autumn breeze, displaying a full moon on a black background, with a cruiser-style motorbike silhouetted in front of it, and the white, artfully-distressed font underneath it read ‘Full Moon Motorcycles’.

A second later, your friend stepped out onto the pavement and you knew there was no turning back. Adrianne grinned at you, so you kicked your feet back into motion and closed the distance between you, offering her a small hug. Your leather messenger bag bumped against your hip with the movement, and you wondered if perhaps you should have left your notebook and stuff at home for this first time. It felt more like an interview than getting to know them, and you were worried the group of unfamiliar bikers might take offence that you essentially wanted to study them for your novel.

“Ready to meet the gang?” she laughed, sweeping her messy, dark blonde hair back out of her eyes. “God, you look terrified. Come on, they’re nice! Except maybe Pixie. Don’t mess with her, but she’s not here today. Or Demon, but even he’s ok when you get to know him, I swear.”

“Not helping, Adi,” you grumbled.

Ever since she’d started working for Dahlia Ink across town about six months ago, Adrianne had been hanging around with the group of bikers who all got their ink done there it seemed, and it had almost felt like serendipity in action when she’d told you about them over coffee last weekend. You didn’t tend to talk much about your writing, even with your friends, but you trusted Adi, and she’d always been supportive of your career as an author, so you’d shyly opened up to her about your latest idea for a story featuring a group of bikers. You did leave out the part where the bikers in your story were mostly vampires and werewolves, with a few other supernatural species thrown in as well. Fantasy had always been your comfort-genre, but people had snickered in the past and made you feel like it wasn’t a ‘serious’ genre that ‘serious’ writers pursued, so you’d omitted it this time while telling her about it.

“It’s the perfect excuse for you to come and finally meet Țepeș then!” she’d blurted excitedly into the foam of her cappuccino, her green-brown eyes going wide with excitement at the idea of including you in her group of new friends. They all had weird nicknames, and you had no idea if it was a ‘biker’ thing or just a ‘them’ thing, but you’d been burning up with curiosity about them ever since she’d first started dating the one called Țepeș. “I’ve been dying to find an excuse for you to come meet him. Plus you can ask him anything you want to know for your story, and — oh…”

Her face had fallen, and you’d frowned, heart dropping already. “What?”

“Eh, he’s… he’s not completely non-verbal, but Țepeș doesn’t exactly find talking easy. Maybe you could come to the shop and meet the rest of them instead though? I’m sure Pickle or Pumpkin would love to talk your ear off about their bikes…”

“I dunno, I don’t want to get in the way,” you’d said, trying not to let that tiny, kindling ember of hope in your chest wink out completely. “But if you wanted to ask them…?”

She’d run it past her boyfriend, and Țepeș had said he’d ask Hank. Hank, apparently, was the guy who ran the bike shop where they’d all met and first formed their group, and two nights later, you’d got a text in all caps from Adi saying ‘BASIC BIKER 101 FOR WRITERS IS ON!!!! When are you next free?!!!’

A week later, you and your messenger bag with notebook and pens had shown up outside Full Moon Motorcycles, with little clue what to expect, and a heart full of trepidation.

Adrianne giggled as she ushered you inside, and to your relief, you found there were only two other people inside instead of a shop full of strangers. An array of bikes for sale was lined up around the right hand side of the space, and against the back wall there was a wooden counter almost like a bar, where the vintage till and a few key chains were displayed, while the left side of the space appeared to be a more general spot for tinkering and hanging out. Even with the light flooding in through the two huge, picture windows on either side of the door, the lighting was soft, and the polished concrete floor created a mellow atmosphere. The scent of coffee and motor oil hung heavy in the air, and you found it oddly comforting as you soaked it all up.

Behind the counter, a stocky man with greying, wavy hair that wasn’t quite long enough to tie back but was too long to look tidy smiled you and raised a meaty hand. His blue tartan shirt stretched precariously over a hearty paunch, and he exuded a jovial kind of warmth as his honey-brown eyes crinkled. “Hey there,” he said. “I’m Hank, though most people round here just call me Dad —”

“— he adopts literally everyone who walks through that door, so congrats on joining the family,” Adi laughed.

“Take your pick on names,” Hank chortled. “I understand you’re a writer…” He seemed interested and a little impressed, which was a bit of a confidence boost.

“Yeah,” you croaked and cleared your throat. “Yeah… uh… thank you for letting me hang out here for a bit. I don’t know anything about bikes… I’m just looking to learn a bit so it makes sense for my novel, you know? I’m not going to get in anyone’s way.”

“Oh, you’re fine,” he smiled, gesturing dismissively with his massive paw of a hand. “You just ask what you like and we’ll do our best to help you out. You must know Țepeș already if you’re Adi’s friend?”

You shook your head and Hank looked across the room to where the other person was lurking at the back of the space. You hadn’t noticed Adi leaving your side, but when you turned around, you found her standing with both hands pressed fondly against the chest of the tall, imposing biker dressed all in black and wearing his helmet too, which you thought was an odd choice. But what did you know about the habits of bikers? You were there to learn after all; learn and observe.

Adi waved you over, and you swallowed your nerves and cast Hank a farewell glance before approaching. When Adi stepped back, Țepeș pushed himself off the wall and held out his hand to you to shake. It, like the rest of him, was covered in leather or padded gear. There wasn’t a scrap of skin showing on him anywhere, and with your own face reflected in his black visor, it was impossible to get a read on him.

As if she’d read your mind, Adi smacked Țepeș in the chest with the back of her hand and said, “At least put your visor up, you big, intimidating doofus.”

He snorted a silent laugh and lifted the catch on his visor to reveal a sliver of pale skin and irises as black as the rest of his leather gear. Like Hank’s though, his eyes were kindly, and he closed them briefly as he inclined his head in a kind of apologetic bow. You shrugged, and he laughed breathily.

Hank chose that moment to come over, and you jumped as he clapped you on the shoulders. How a man built like a grizzly in autumn had moved so quietly was a mystery. “Come on, Țepeș, why don’t we give our new friend a demonstration of how a bike works? Since your Ducati is in, why don’t we use that?”

Țepeș gave a quick nod, and ducked away through the door that stood in the centre of the back wall, and a moment later, he pushed an absolute monster of a bike out into the empty space. He jutted his chin towards the front door, and Adi nipped over to open it for him, and when you frowned, she laughed. “That Streetfighter is so fucking loud,” she snorted. “You do not want him starting it up in here.”

“And nor do I!” Hank called, now mysteriously back behind the till though you hadn’t heard him leave. You made a mental note to weave something like that into your story for the supernatural biker characters, and then nodded, feeling sheepish, and followed the two of them out of the shop and onto the quiet side-street outside.

Until six months ago, Adi hadn’t known anything about bikes either, so she used your introductory tutorial as a kind of test for herself, interspersed with little glances up at Țepeș to check that she’d got it right. He either nodded or pointed to correct her, but he didn’t speak. She hadn’t been kidding about him being mostly non-verbal.

After Adi had shown you the basics of the bike’s anatomy, Țepeș patted the seat of the bike and gestured to her to get on it, but she laughed and shook her head. “No way, babe. I’m way too short.”

He put his fists comically on his hips and shook his head, then patted the seat again like he was trying to get a wilful cat up onto a chair.

She made a noise of protest, but did swing a leg over and then hoisted herself evenly into the seat, both legs dangling freely a good way off the ground.

“Happy now?” she shot at him and he nodded emphatically, bringing both hands to the sides of his helmet in a way that mimicked a person losing their mind over a cute kitten. “You’re lucky I love you, you overgrown dork,” she muttered. “Anyway,” she said, turning back to you. “Since this beast has made me get up here, I’m going to start his bike. Not so funny now that I could actually fuck it up, is it?” she grinned.

Țepeș remained perfectly still, and you got the impression it was a comical warning.

“I can’t flat-foot it,” she said to you, “So I’m gonna rest my left foot on the curb after I’ve flicked the kickstand up,” she said. “You can’t start most bikes with the kickstand still down.”

You noted that down, and let her get on with the rest of the sequence uninterrupted, which seemed a lot more complicated than you’d imagined.

Near the end of your tutorial on how to start a bike and the basics of clutch control, and the apparent struggle to find neutral, the sound of a number of approaching engines tore through the quiet afternoon. You looked back over your shoulder to see three sports bikes round the corner and make their way towards you.

The three riders couldn’t have been more different. The one you noticed first was riding a big, brash, bright orange bike that reminded you a bit of a sporty looking dirt bike, and he was wearing, of all things, a black and white cow onesie, with a cow helmet cover complete with fabric horns and ears.

“Fucking Pumpkin,” Adi laughed. “Honestly. I think you’ll love him.”

“Pumpkin?” you asked, wondering how on earth he’d got that name. Then again, Țepeș was a pretty unusual nickname. Perhaps he was a vampire under all that leather, shielding himself from the fury of the sun with his biker gear just so he could spend more time with his human lover during the day… You yanked your over-active imagination back into the present and out of your fantasy novel, and watched the trio of bikers approach down the quiet side street.

“Yeah, Pumpkin’s his name. It’s because he’s a —” Țepeș elbowed Adi in the ribs sharply enough that she had to grab the handlebars to stop herself toppling off his bike. Her eyes went wide and she instantly clicked her jaw shut.

As an author, you were used to watching and studying people, and noting your observations for later. Another writer you knew online had called it ‘cataloguing the everyday’, and it was an apt description. Adi had very nearly given away something huge about Pumpkin, and Țepeș had given her a silent but stern warning.

“Because he loves pranks, like on Halloween?” she finished a little too quickly. “He dresses up with silly helmet covers all the time and he likes to play jokes on people.”

Maybe he wasn’t your kind of person at all. The very idea of having a practical joke pulled on you was enough to make you feel sick and shaky all over. You'd always hated them, and they’d always left you feeling devastated and on-edge if they happened to you. The more you trusted the person, the worse it felt afterwards.

Țepeș’ huge hand landed carefully on your shoulder joint and you looked up to find him smiling reassuringly at you. At least, you thought he was smiling reassuringly. All you could see were his glinting black eyes that were creased at the corners, and the way the apples of his pale cheeks were slightly more squished than usual behind the padding in his helmet.

You tried out a smile of your own, and then realised that Adi was talking again.

“He’s such a goofball, but that’s got to be his craziest outfit yet! You should see his other helmet covers; they’re all bonkers. My favourite is the pink rabbit one.”

Țepeș nodded once in agreement and let go of your shoulder. You swayed a little at the loss, feeling untethered.

“The guy on the red Ducati is Demon, and the short one on the Ninja in the middle is Pickle.”

When the newcomers spotted the three of you standing around Țepeș’ bike, Pumpkin revved raucously, almost seeming to make his bike laugh with joy at the sight of you. Then he hauled it up into a massive wheelie, only dropping back down once he’d torn past you in a near-vertical pose. Your heart was in your mouth the whole time, but he looked relaxed and even amused behind that absurd costume as he landed it and swerved the bike around to make his way back towards you while the other two came over in a more sedate fashion. In fact, they were so sedate it reminded you of two sharks approaching, and your mouth went dry. Adi had said they were cool with you being there and asking questions, but just then, it didn’t really feel like it.

The one riding the lurid, neon green bike was so short that you wondered for a crazy second if maybe they were a child. The owner of the red bike revved his something wicked as he cruised to a stop, and you had to fight the urge to step back. It felt like being roared at full in the face by a lion, and it didn’t help at all that the guy had curling ram’s horns adorning his black helmet. Even though it was a nippy autumn day, he was wearing a white t-shirt that showed off a golden tan and a truly impressive physique, and his black jeans had a rip in the knee that added to his tough-guy appearance.

Standing beside his own bike, Țepeș folded his arms and jutted his chin in a warning. Demon revved his deafening bike once more though, and the back wheel skimmed from side to side on the tarmac as blue smoke churned up into the air.

Țepeș shook his head and a few seconds later, Demon stopped his mini burnout, and instead leaned forwards on the bike, resting one arm casually on the tank. His whole attention was fixed on you and you tried hard not to regret all of this. It was research. You were here for your story. It was fine. His visor was tinted like Țepeș’ was, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze through the plastic just as clearly as if there had been nothing blocking his eyes from yours.

“Just giving a welcome to your new friend, Țepeș,” the guy purred in a silky baritone that made you think of teeth in the dark.

As the brief puff of acrid smoke from his tyres cleared, the short rider flipped their visor up and regarded you with beady, golden eyes that had to be contacts, surely? Even the pupils were slitted like a cat’s.

“Who’s this?” came a reedy, tenor voice from under the helmet. Definitely not a child after all, and their skin had a strange, greenish tinge to it that you initially took to be makeup until you realised it went all the way down their cheeks as well. Tattoos? Some kind of condition? You tried not to stare.

Before either you or Adi could respond to their question, the cow onesie rider screeched to a comical halt beside the other two, locking up the front wheel and making the rear of his bike kick up like a bronco, and Adi shook her head. “Pumpkin, honestly. What are you like?”

“I’m Legen-dairy!” he grinned, gesturing wide with both hands. “Oh, hey! New friend?!” he exclaimed, waving enthusiastically when he saw you standing awkwardly beside Țepeș’ bike. He had a lilting Irish accent and a playful intonation that warmed you to him immediately, despite knowing about his penchant for practical jokes.

“Don’t mind Pumpkin,” Adi smiled at you. “He’s… something else.”

“I’m highly a-moo-sing, is what I am,” the guy chuckled. His words sounded clearer than the others behind their helmets, and you wondered if it was something about the design that made it easier to hear him.

“Oh god, please stop with the cow puns,” Pickle groaned, casting him a withering look with those unusual eyes.

“But Pickle, I’m udderly fantastic!”

“Stop.”

“This is just plain bull-ying!” Pumpkin whined, and then he started to bop up and down on his bike as he sang, “My milkshake brings—”

“If you howl one more out of tune word, Demon will eat you for breakfast, and not in a fun way,” Pickle said, casting a glance at the biker with the horns on his helmet.

For answer, the biker in question cocked his head just a little to one side, and Pumpkin slumped in his seat, arms and legs dangling comically, head lolling forwards so that the soft horns on his helmet cover flopped. He let out a long, sad mooing noise sound that dissolved into giggles at the end, and Pickle punched him on the arm.

“Loser,” Pickle snorted with obvious fondness.

“Anyway, I want you to meet my friend,” Adi cut in, turning to you. “I’m sorry you had to meet Pumpkin when he’s in this mood, but —”

“Moo-d!” Pumpkin interrupted triumphantly and immediately burst out laughing. He almost tipped backwards off his big, orange bike. Even you managed to crack a shy smile at that one. It was infectious.

“I give up,” Pickle said, and hopped down off his green Kawasaki, disappearing into the shop without a backward glance just as Hank stepped out.

“How’s that lesson going?” he asked you.

“I’m not planning on riding solo any time soon,” you smiled, “But I’ve got enough of an idea of how things work to start writing, I think.”

Hank nodded and, glancing around at Pumpkin who was still bouncing up and down and making his suspension creak a little, said, “Ah, they’re all idiots, but they’re kind, and they’re my idiots.”

He introduced you by name, and told Pumpkin and Demon why you were there. Pumpkin seemed intrigued, tilting his head to one side and calming his crazy energy a little as he regarded you through the tinted visor, but Demon growled softly as he pushed himself upright again and folded his arms across his ripped chest, muttering something about letting their guard down again.

Țepeș moved away from his bike, petting the back of Adi’s blonde head in a fond, distracted gesture, and then signalled for Demon to follow him inside, which, to your surprise, the big guy did. He walked like a Greek god — like he owned the place and not Hank — but it was clear that he had respect for Țepeș.

Pumpkin took advantage of their absence and leaned a little way off his bike towards you. “So, you’re a writer? That’s pretty cool. And you’re writing a… a book? A story? About bikers?”

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s not the main focus, but it’s a big part of it.” If you hadn’t wanted to open up to Adi about it being a supernatural fantasy story, you sure as heck weren’t going to admit it to a bunch of intimidating, high-octane bikers. “It was Adi who suggested I come and learn a bit more about it all from you guys though…” you said, not wanting them to think you’d just inserted yourself into their group without invitation. Especially given Demon’s weird reaction.

“Awesome,” Pumpkin said, fist-bumping Adi then turning back to you. “You gonna ride with us? We’re all heading out in a bit so you should come too!”

“I… maybe?” you faltered. That had not been on the cards for the day, but the more you thought about it, the more your heart began to race.

“The KTM has a passenger seat,” Pumpkin said, gesturing behind him and patting his pillion seat. “You can be my backpack if you like! I promise I won’t wheelie. I’m not taking the onesie off though,” he added, mooing and shaking his head so that the fabric horns waggled comically.

His energy and enthusiasm really were infectious. He bounced up and down again like an excitable, cow-print puppy, and you bit your lip. The idea of holding onto him, of being perched on the back of his mad, orange bike, was oddly… enticing. Even with his embarrassing costume.

“Come on,” he said. “It’ll be fun! It’s only a short ride because Coco’s Honda’s playing up for some reason,” he added. “Is she here yet? I don’t see her little bumblebee…”

“Bumblebee?” you asked.

“Coco’s bike is a Honda Hornet,” Adi supplied. “She’s got these little antennae for her helmet too. It’s so cute. And no,” she added to Pumpkin. “You guys are the first.”

It didn’t take long for the rest of the day’s riders to arrive, and soon you watched a screaming pink bike roll up, with its rider wearing baby pink leathers and a pink helmet. Her name was Barbie, appropriately enough, and a few minutes later, a skinny guy in all black leathers with a black helmet bearing a decal like a maw full of teeth pulled up, alongside Coco on her black and yellow Honda Hornet that looked very much like the Transformer.

“I see why you call it Bumblebee,” you said to Adi, who was standing on the pavement with you, chatting and slipping you random bits of information about both the bikes and the bikers. The others had all gone inside, leaving you with Adi still casually sitting astride her boyfriend’s enormous, black Ducati Streetfighter outside in the sunshine, and honestly it was nice to catch your breath and let your heart rate settle again.

Pumpkin, apparently, was only a few years older than you, and he had moved to the city to get away from his family and their career expectations for him. His name was actually Callahan, or Cal, but literally everyone called him Pumpkin.

Pickle was non-binary and surprisingly a full decade older than you. They lived with their mother, who needed a bit of extra care these days, and had taken up riding only a year or so ago. Demon, Adi didn’t discuss at all, and she said little about Barbie other than that she kept herself to herself a lot and was pretty shy.

Coco came out to soak up some autumn sunshine a while later, and was one of the only bikers who actually took off her helmet. Beneath it, she had thick, wavy, chocolate brown hair and brown eyes that made you want to drown in them, and a smile so pretty it made your heart skip several beats. She gave off the kind of energy that made you feel safe and relaxed, and you let out a long, slow exhale, feeling the sun wash up over your skin.

That peace lasted until Demon stormed out of the shop, followed by Pumpkin, Țepeș, and Pickle.

“Everything ok?” Adi whispered to Țepeș when he came over and hugged her tightly from behind before passing her a spare helmet. He nodded and jerked his thumb towards his bike. “Yeah, I’m good to go. You coming?” she asked you, and you found yourself nodding before you’d even realised.

“Yes!” Pumpkin bayed in triumph and you startled, not having heard him return to his bike. “You’re mine! I claim you. You’re my backpack!”

“Like anyone else wants a human for baggage,” Demon muttered so quietly you weren’t sure you were supposed to have heard it. As he passed, he slammed his visor back down and you could have sworn that he’d had completely scarlet eyes. You wondered if you were losing your mind a little bit, or if the fantasy of your novel was beginning to bleed into the real world through your over-active imagination.

Pumpkin practically vaulted back up onto his orange bike and he held out his hand to you. “Alright! My precious and beautiful backpack,” he said, “Hop on!”

Easier said than done, you thought, ignoring the compliment. You watched your reflection distort in his visor as he turned his head when you faltered anxiously.

“I’ll look after you, I promise. But I’m gonna rely on you to tell me if Pickle’s coming for my killswitch, ok?”

Recalling your brief lesson with Țepeș, you eyed the red switch on his right handlebar and said, “That?”

“Yeah, that. Protect it at all costs,” he giggled. “I mean, not all costs, obviously but… Actually, scratch that. It’s Ninja you wanna watch out for. He’s a sneaky, sneaky boy. He blends in so no one sees him coming…” A few of them laughed in a way that made you feel like there was more to it than just an inside joke, and your stomach churned.

A glance back at the skinny guy on the black bike behind you revealed Ninja tilting his hands outwards in a ‘who, me?’ kind of gesture. Hank came over and gave you a helmet, taking your messenger bag from you and promising to keep it safe behind the counter. You slid the helmet on and buckled it up, trying not to feel like an impostor.

Getting aboard wasn’t as hard as you’d thought it was going to be, with brief instruction from Adi and Pumpkin on how to put your feet on the pegs, though you did clunk your helmet against Pumpkin’s when you leaned too far forward, but he made things easier by telling you to hold him round the waist. He turned back over one shoulder and said, “It’s kinda forward, but I don’t mind. You’re cute and I don’t want you falling off.” He had such a lovely voice — warm and rich and reassuring — and you found yourself laughing softly.

“If you say so.”

Pumpkin talked a mile a minute and you really had to work to process everything he was saying as it tumbled out of him in a wild, happy torrent. “You are cute! You’re gonna have a blast today. I can’t believe I’m your first! Oh, and watch out for silly string too. I don’t think Pickle has any in their pocket today, but last time they got me good and it was all over my helmet and my orange baby,” he added petting the tank of his bike.

Your heart lurched at the idea of these pranks maybe escalating, and you tried to swallow down the nausea; you did not want to be sick in a motorcycle helmet. The cold sweat took a while to evaporate and you were sure Pumpkin would feel your heartbeat as you clung onto him before he’d even started the bike. The cow onesie did add a little levity though, and you tried not to feel too silly.

When Adi was safely aboard Țepeș’ bike, Țepeș revved his readiness a few times from the rear of the group, and Pumpkin nodded. “Forward!” he yelled, pointing like he was leading a cavalry charge as he nudged up his kickstand and prepared to draw away.

Adi had been right.

The ride was amazing.

Terrifying, exhilarating, wonderful, and, in the strangest way possible, it made you forget everything.

All you could focus on was the way Pumpkin moved with the bike like it was a part of him — almost like a rider and his horse — and on trying to move with him as he leaned into the corners. He was slim and fit beneath your grip, and he didn’t seem to be wearing any kind of padding under the onesie, but he was wearing biker boots instead of ordinary shoes. There was something alluring about the fact you’d not seen his face and he’d not taken his helmet off. Țepeș had a similar vibe, but it was Pumpkin and his wild, silly energy you found yourself drawn to. It was almost euphoric to be able to press the front of your body against this kind, funny stranger’s back and let him sweep you along the roads.

Of course, there were shenanigans at the first red light you came to.

Pickle came for Pumpkin’s killswitch immediately — almost like they were testing you — but you tapped Pumpkin on the shoulder when you saw Pickle stalking up the line of bikes. Ninja covered his killswitch and waggled a finger at Pickle, and when Pumpkin saw who was coming, he patted your thigh a few times. “Nice one,” he said with a grin evident in his voice. “Best early warning system and best backpack ever! You can ride with me every time!”

You glowed with pride, even though you knew it was probably only fun and games, and when Pickle failed to catch Pumpkin’s killswitch and the lights changed, you laughed with the rest of them as Pickle bolted back to their Ninja and hopped comically onto it at the very last second while Pumpkin sped away fast enough to make you yelp and grip him hard around the middle. You felt him laugh and held him tighter.

He petted your hands where they were laced securely in front of him, and even though you didn’t have comms in your helmet, you got the message: ‘I’ve got you’. You did feel safe with him despite his love of pranks, and you were literally trusting him with your life as you rode behind him.

When the ride came to an end about an hour later, and the group drew to a halt at Full Moon Motorcycles again, you were shaky with the aftereffects of adrenaline and from simply holding on, but beneath your helmet, you were grinning wildly. Secretly, you already couldn’t wait for the next ride and prayed he would ask you again.

Pickle pulled their bike up on your right, the green Ninja 400 idling gently, and when they killswitched Pumpkin’s bike at last, Pumpkin guffawed, but without missing a beat he extended his right leg and tapped the gear lever down to put Pickle’s bike into first, making the bike stall and lurch forwards.

“Gotcha!” he crowed, and then helped you off the back by letting you steady yourself on his shoulders. “And for the pièce de résistance,” he said, fishing in the pouch of his onesie, and he turned something cylindrical in your direction. “I was saving this for Pickle, but since it’s your first ride, you deserve a decent celebration!”

With a loud bang and a flurry of coloured squares of paper, a confetti cannon went off in your face and you screeched in shock, tripping over your heels and landing hard on the pavement behind you. The pieces of paper fluttered down around you while panic and fear and everything you hated about being pranked exploded out of you. Your heartbeat went through the roof. You just glimpsed the horns of Demon’s helmet in the doorway to the shop, and your heart dropped when you saw he was laughing.

Pumpkin was laughing too, and pointing, and beside him Pickle clapped their gloved hands and crooned, “Oh man, he got you good!”

He had got you good, and you hated it.

You hated that it was just a silly, harmless prank, but you were reacting like he’d done something serious. You hated that you couldn’t just laugh it off the way they all did. You hated that you took it so seriously; that it felt like the worst kind of betrayal of that fragile trust you’d started to put in a stranger. And then, behind the visor of your helmet, the tears began to flow uncontrollably.

A huge figure appeared in your blurred vision and you looked up to find Țepeș kneeling down beside you. He blocked the others from your sight with his massive body, and he lifted his visor to show his black eyes full of concern.

You nodded, trying to pull yourself together and grateful beyond belief that the helmet was still covering your face, even though it felt like you were running out of oxygen in there. Pulling yourself together was like trying to hold a bag full of sand with fraying seams. You were seeping and spilling out all over the place and you couldn’t stop. You tried to tell yourself it was just a confetti cannon. You tried to tell yourself it was just a bit of fun.

You tried, and failed.

“I’m… I’m ok… I’m…” you gulped, aware of how choked your voice sounded.

Țepeș stood and held out a hand, pulling you to your feet and ushering you carefully inside. You didn’t miss the way he put himself between you and Demon, who was still snickering in the doorway, and you let him lead you into the shop and into the back room.

He snagged a box of tissues from under the shop’s counter in passing and guided you into a chair. He signalled for you to undo your helmet, which you did with shaking fingers. “I’m sorry,” you gulped as you drew it off over your head and set it on the floor. “I’m sorry I’m overreacting.”

Țepeș shook his head and squeezed your shoulder, offering you a tissue.

“It’s just a prank, I know that, but…”

Again, he squeezed your shoulder, and you took a deeper, steadier breath.

“I hate pranks. Even the harmless ones. I always overreact like this. I’m sorry. It’s not his fault, but… I thought… I thought maybe he… he wouldn’t…”

A knock on the door made you jump, and Țepeș made a ‘stay there’ gesture with his hand and ducked out of the room. A short, seemingly one-sided conversation passed outside while you fought to control yourself again, and then Pumpkin ducked inside.

“Hey,” he said, and your heart broke a little at the change in his energy. It was like he’d completely deflated. He was still wearing the cow onesie though, which brought a slightly hysterical chuckle to your lips before you could stop it. “I’m so sorry,” he said, dropping to one knee in front of your chair. “I… I didn’t think you’d react like that.”

“It’s not you,” you said, sniffling and turning away, cuffing at your eyes. “I just overreacted.”

“You didn’t overreact,” he said, and your brain screeched to a halt.

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have done it to you. I didn’t know if you were cool with it, and I just assumed that… that because everyone else likes my pranks… that you’d be ok with it too, and I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll never ever pull anything like that on you again. Ever.” He crossed his thumb across his heart. “I swear on my True Name.”

The wording was odd, but the air seemed to crystallise around you for a second, and your breath caught. “Like a Fae,” you mumbled without thinking.

He tilted his helmeted head a little. “Yeah,” he said and his voice had an odd ring to it. “You… You know about… about the Fae?”

“I’m writing a book…” you croaked, not really thinking about what you were saying. “Supernatural theme… I’ve always written fantasy stuff… Look, I’m sorry. I’m over-sharing about stuff that isn’t even real. I’m good,” you said, and stood up abruptly, setting your borrowed helmet down on the chair and turning to look at him. He was on his feet again, but he was just standing there.

You walked out into the main shop but he called your name and you halted and turned back around. “Yeah?”

“Are… Are you gonna come back?”

You bit your lip. You probably had enough to write the book now — the biker part of it wasn’t even the main focus after all — but until the prank, you’d felt included and welcomed, and, as you thought about it, the prank had also been meant to welcome you into the fold. It wasn’t Pumpkin’s fault that you had reacted the way you did.

“You want me to?” you asked.

“Please,” he said. “Please, I’d love it. I’ve… I’ve never had anyone I’ve wanted to be my backpack before, and you rode like a natural today,” he added, taking a step towards you. “Please. I promise no one will do any pranks when you’re with us. No silly string, no confetti cannons.”

“I don’t mind it… With the others, I mean,” you said, the words grinding out of you like a boulder uphill. “I mean… So long as it’s not me.”

“Ok, we’ll dial it back,” he compromised. “I’ll even give you one of my little stretchy sticky hands if you like so you can team up on Pickle with me. We duel at the lights sometimes. Does that count as a prank?”

You shook your head, fighting back a resurgence of emotions, mostly good this time.

“Ok. I’m really sorry,” he said again.

“I believe you,” you said.

“Thank you,” Pumpkin replied, his whole body looking relieved. It was amazing how expressive someone could be, even without being able to see their face. “Let me give you my number and I’ll text you when we’re going out next. Or… Or maybe we could go out just the two of us?”

That seemed like way more pressure than you’d been expecting, but you nodded all the same when you realised you weren’t put off by it at all.

As you left the shop not long afterwards, having recovered enough to let the red fade from your eyes, Demon looked you up and down and then approached Pumpkin. You glanced back over your shoulder to see him looming down over Pumpkin, and you just caught him growling, “What happens when you need to take that helmet off eh, Dullahan? You think that cute accent is going to be enough to hide the fact you don’t have a fucking head under there?”

Your breath caught and you tripped, turning away before either of them could notice your reaction.

For a moment, when Demon had spat the word ‘Dullahan’ you’d thought he’d said ‘Callahan’ — Pumpkin’s real name — but the instant he’d said Pumpkin didn’t have a head, your mind made the connection.

Dullahan.

A Fae without a head, traditionally a headless horseman.

The way Pumpkin had moved with his bike, like it was a living creature, had reminded you of a horse and its rider, and you had to wonder if the nickname ‘Pumpkin’ had come from the cartoonish depictions of Dullahans on Halloween with a pumpkin for a head instead of their real one. They did have a head, you knew from research for your writing, but they tended to keep it hidden since that was where their power resided. They could only be harmed if you hurt their head, or if they were wearing it when you attacked them.

But that was all fantasy, right?

Then Demon’s red eyes flickered across your memory, and the weird emphasis he’d put on the word ‘human’ in his snide remarks, and the way you’d thought maybe Țepeș was a vampire because he kept his skin covered up, and the fact that Pickle’s skin was entirely green and they had gold eyes with cat’s pupils… it was all way too much of a coincidence. Right?

You walked home in a daze, not even saying goodbye to Adi who was talking quietly with Țepeș in the long, late afternoon shadows cast by the bike shop’s wall.

Over the next few rides with Pumpkin, you tried to figure out a way to broach the topic. If you just blurted it out, you had no idea how the others would react, so you dropped little hints to Pumpkin that you were writing a supernatural story and that you’d been researching the supernatural for a while, and how you’d always hoped there was more out there than met the eye. You even mentioned it a couple of times on group rides to see how the others reacted, and predictably, it was Demon who bristled, and Pumpkin who looked uncomfortable. Like he had a secret he wanted to tell you.

Each time you did it, he looked torn, like he was right on the cusp of telling you the truth.

It finally came to an ugly head one afternoon as the riding season drew to a close in late October and you all came back from a huge group ride that had included a few more riders whom you’d not met before, but who evidently knew the rest of the group.

As you went inside to return the helmet that Hank always lent you, you caught the sound of an argument and hung back in the small storage room behind the main shop to avoid it, heart in your throat and the helmet forgotten in one hand.

Pickle was standing in the main area of the shop with their helmet dangling from their hand this time, and you gasped when you saw sharply-tapered ears and a row of pointed teeth in their mouth, and green skin that went all the way down below their collar. Definitely not a tattoo. They looked sharp, their features inhuman; like one of the goblins in your novel. If you’d needed confirmation that they weren’t human, this had to be it.

Pickle was arguing with Adi and Demon, and Pumpkin was there too, looking helplessly from one to the other of them.

Demon was shouting, and he didn’t have his helmet on either. Perhaps they’d thought you’d already left. The horns that adorned his helmet were… actually attached to his head, not his helmet. He had horns. They obviously grew from his hairline, his black hair waving around them like a river of oil that had a rainbow sheen on it, and his eyes were a luminous, blood-red with slit pupils too. He rounded on Pumpkin like a Wolf on a rabbit. “You think just because we let Țepeș’ little human blood-bag in, we can risk exposing us all to just anyone?” Demon snarled. “I thought you wanted to keep our kind a secret? Now you’re siding with him?”

“Hey!” Adi exclaimed, but Pickle’s lip curled and they turned to her.

“He has got a point, Adi, though the blood-bag comment was way out of line,” Pickle said. “We have to be careful, but —”

“This is different,” Pumpkin interjected. “Ok? I’ve never been in love before, and I love —”

“No. It’s not fucking ok! This is the one place we get to be who we are,” Demon countered, his deep voice cracking as he clearly fought off tears. He sounded afraid and upset in a way that went right to your heart. “This is the one place where we can be safe, Cal, and you’re jeopardising it for all of us. And if we start letting humans in, if our secret gets out —”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” Pickle said faintly, staring straight at you watching the argument unfold, stunned. They were arguing because of you. Because Pumpkin had taken a liking to you — in fact, he’d just said he loved you…

A pair of gold eyes and a pair of scarlet eyes stared at you, while Adi stood there hugging herself and looking hurt and unsure, and Pumpkin was standing stock still with his black helmet still on but you knew he was looking at you too. Was he going to defend you, or discard you and stick with his friends? They weren’t human. None of them was human. Demon’s eyes were blaring a violent red and he had horns growing out of his black hairline and curling back over his head, and there was a watercolour patch of red creeping over his golden tan as if he was losing control of his form. And Pickle was apparently some kind of goblin?

“You’re a Dullahan,” you said quietly, looking at Pumpkin. “A Fae.”

“You know?” Demon hissed, taking half a step towards you. “How the fuck do you know?” and then he shoved Pumpkin back with a hand at each shoulder. “You’ve taken your helmet off already? Did you disclose your head’s location while you were at it?”

Pumpkin shook his head vehemently but then he lifted his shiny, black helmet off in what looked like an act of defiance to Demon.

In the void where his head should have been there was a swirl of bluish-green smoke emanating from the stump of his neck, like the aurora in the night sky, and his skin was a dark, slate-blue colour. Your mind struggled to accept what you were seeing, but with the additional evidence of Pickle’s green skin and Demon’s horns, you knew it all had to be true.

Walking closer, as if moving through a dream, you ignored Demon’s constant, caged-animal growl, but you did jump when the door flew open and Țepeș burst in. He strode straight over to Adi and wrapped his arm protectively around her shoulders, tugging her close and putting himself between her and the others. He cocked his head in an impatiently curious manner and Adi answered his silent demand.

“Demon’s laying into Pumpkin about flirting with a human while hiding what he is,” Adrianne said, glaring flatly at Demon. “And he called me your blood-bag,” she added.

Țepeș’ fists curled, leather creaking, and he took a long, slow inhale, as though he was trying very hard not to lose control and launch himself at Demon.

Before anything else could happen, someone clapped their hands abruptly from the side of the shop where the till and the bikes were arrayed, and you all jumped.

Hank was standing there and his eyes were glowing golden. “This family is built on trust,” he said in a low, gravelly bass, and you saw that his canines were chunkier and longer than they usually were, and his hair seemed thicker and fuller, his beard a little bushier around the chops. “And if we welcome each other into it, we must be prepared to trust each other’s judgement.”

“We’re just a little research project!” Demon said, rounding on you. “Adi told you what we are, didn’t she, so you thought you’d come and study us like a science experiment?”

You were still staring at Pumpkin’s empty collar and wondering in an odd, detached kind of way where it would be considered polite for you to look now — did you look at the point where his eyes would be if he had a head, or did you look at his chest? Only a second or two later did Demon’s words filter through and you blinked. “What?”

“You’re writing a fucking book about us! How does that count as trustworthy?”

“I’m not — It’s not about you,” you shot back. “The book isn’t about you. The protagonist is dating a vampire who’s in a biker gang, but… Adi didn’t tell me anything at all about you. I didn’t know you weren’t human until… until I overheard you accusing Pumpkin a few weeks ago. You said something about not having a head under his helmet, and you called him a Dullahan.” You swallowed thickly and watched the shock filter through everyone’s expressions at your words. “At first I thought you were saying his name, but then I realised you said ‘Dullahan’, not ‘Callahan’, and because I’ve looked into supernatural stuff, I put two and two together. I’ve known for weeks,” you said, chest heaving as you fought to maintain some semblance of composure while you finished your defence. “I could have said something, or I could have just not come back, but I trusted you guys.” Tears finally blurred your vision. “You treated me like family. Why would I betray you?”

Pumpkin moved first.

He strode across he space, dropping his helmet on the floor with a loud crack that would have made anyone who needed a helmet to protect their head wince, but you figured his was purely for decoration and disguise anyway. He wrapped you up in his arms and pulled you close to his body. His arms almost lifted you off the ground and he cradled your head in one hand while his left arm curled around your waist and squeezed you so tight you gave a little wheeze.

His voice came from nowhere in particular, just like it did when he had the helmet on, and he said, “You are family. And I love you. If I have to leave this one to be with you, I will.”

Your heart stopped for a moment before you hugged him back, desperately. “Don’t. Not for me.”

He only hugged you harder.

From somewhere off to your left, Hank gave a low, rumbling growl and then muttered, “Kids. Honestly.” Then a little louder, he said, “Demon, go and cool off somewhere. Țepeș, for God’s sake, stand down, and Pickle, go and put the fucking kettle on. I need a cup of tea with half a bottle of whisky in it after all this drama.”

Pumpkin drew back at last, and you looked up at the haze of blue-green smoke that seemed to swirl upwards in a constant stream, like a recently extinguished candle. “How can you see me?” you asked. And then, with a little more alarm in your tone, you yelped, “Wait, how can you see where you’re driving?”

He laughed and leaned in close enough that the aurora-light swirled across your vision and caressed your face with a feather light breath, and you shivered. “Magic,” he whispered.

Demon hadn’t gone anywhere, and was regarding you with a more level gaze. His eyes were still red though. “You knew?” he said. “All this time?”

“Yeah,” you croaked as you refocused your eyes from the magic of the Dullahan’s body to Demon’s very much corporeal body. “I mean, I suspected.”

He sighed, still staring you down. Pumpkin stepped a little in front of you, much as Țepeș had for Adi, but Demon shook his head. He worked his jaw for a second and then slowly held out his right hand. His skin was red instead of the golden tan it had been, and his nails were black and claw-like, but the gesture was one of reconciliation all the same. “Welcome to the family, I guess,” he muttered hoarsely.

You smiled faintly, and Pumpkin took your left hand in a show of solidarity, sliding his gloved fingers around yours while you briefly shook Demon’s hand. “I really didn’t know what you guys were when you said I could come and hang out with you, I swear.”

“I know,” Demon bit out. “I can taste a lie, and you’re telling the truth.”

With that, he stalked away and carefully slotted his helmet on over his horns. You realised that there were specially-tailored holes in the crown of it for the horns to fit through, but when it was on, some kind of glamour made it look like the horns were just attached to the surface of the helmet. Outside, he swung a leg over his Ducati and started it up, revving it and launching away amid a scream of tyres and over-worked engine.

“Give him time,” Pumpkin said as he looked down at you. In the swirl of the smoke at his neck you thought you could make out the features of a face for a moment, but you blinked and it vanished. “You’re family now though, so he won’t give you any more trouble.”

“He did just insult Adi pretty spectacularly,” you pointed out.

“And he’ll apologise to her,” Pumpkin said. Țepeș loomed threateningly beside Adi in silent agreement. “For now, you want to come for a ride with just me? Come back to my place maybe?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Bet you have questions too…”

“You going to fact-check my novel for me?” you asked with a playful smile, and Pumpkin laughed. It felt right to hear his loud, giggly laughter filling the space again.

“You’d actually have to let me read it for that, love, and you said you didn’t like showing your work to anyone until it was done.”

“I could make an exception for you, I guess,” you admitted with a bashful smile.

With Pumpkin still holding your hand, you paused on your way out to check on Adi, who looked a little hurt but otherwise alright, and you promised to check in with her later. Țepeș handed Pumpkin his helmet, and you let yourself be led from the shop. Your helmet was still in your slightly numb fingers, never having put it down, so you slid it back on with shaky hands.

After climbing with familiar ease back up onto the pillion seat of Pumpkin’s orange KTM, you snaked your arms around his middle and squeezed.

“I’m sorry it all came out this way,” Pumpkin said before he started up his bike. “This was not how I planned to tell you. I had no idea how I was going to break it to you, but that… that wasn’t it. I know you hate surprises, and that was a big one.”

“Not all surprises are bad,” you admitted. “And this one turned out ok in the end. Come on. I want to find out how much I’ve got wrong about the Fae.”

Pumpkin guffawed, his laughter audible even after he’d started up his bike and pulled away.

Turns out, you’d quite a lot wrong about the Fae after all, but Pumpkin was only too happy to put you right over pizza and a movie on his sofa that evening.

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one. If you did, please consider reblogging to show your support as well as leaving a like and/or a comment.

Do you want to see the other members of the group? Remember you can find out more about them here in this early post if you're curious. Tepes already has a love interest, and Ninja the mimic is claimed too, but if you're curious, lemme know!

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