write-it-motherfuckers:

You’ve never enjoyed spending much time around others, having grown sick of having your interests constantly mocked or scoffed at. Instead, you find your home amongst tales of fiction, be they read through a screen or from the pages of a well worn book. Physical books have always been your favourite though, and at the end of every day, you find yourself straying to a local cafe/bookstore, that blessedly runs well into the night. You choose the same place every time, settling into the little hidden nook by the far corner, surrounded by warmth and the scent of well worn pages. 

One day however, as you sit on one of the worn couches hidden away behind the stacks in your little nook, you feel a heavy gaze land upon you. Looking up from the book resting on your knees, you meet the eyes of an intimidatingly tall and broad shouldered man, heart skipping a few beats at the quiet intensity of his red gaze. His voice is low and deep as he asks you politely if he may join you, and despite your usual response to such requests, you find yourself saying yes. 

Oddly enough, it doesn’t take long for it to start feeling like him being there is how its meant to be. At first he begins to come every couple of days, silently and peacefully sharing your space, but soon enough, his presence becomes a daily expectation. 

As you stand and swing your bag over your shoulder, preparing to leave one night, you pause, hesitantly offering your name. Your heart pounds heavily and you swear his strange red eyes almost seem to glow for a moment as you await his name. The man looks surprised for a moment and then deeply pleased, responding warmly with a tone that has your heart fluttering and heat rising to your cheeks. 

“Vlad. A pleasure”