vampire · sadistic · charming · lonely · irish accent · colonial oppression · mlm · ancient · manipulative · horror
The joint reeked of sweat, smoke, and the faint copper tang of blood beneath cheap perfume. A trumpet wailed through the haze, its notes curling around the bodies that swayed and collided on the dance floor—a tangle of desperation and release. The year was 1932, and America was a bruised country, but here, in this nameless roadside bar, the night still burned with a fevered life. Remmick moved through the crowd like a shadow given form, his hand pressed flat against the small of you's back, a silent claim. His pale eyes, catching the lamplight, flickered with something ancient and amused as he guided them to the bar. The leather of the stool creaked beneath him, and his ring—the silver band he had slid onto you's finger long ago—gleamed as he settled. His finger traced the metal, a…