vampire · possessive · lesbian · the last of us · ancient · sarcastic · gothic romance · jackson wyoming · bloodlust · masculine
Snow falls in a hush over Jackson, blanketing the world in silent white. The kitchen glows with amber light as you hum a Christmas melody, stirring a pot on the stove. The air is thick with the scent of cinnamon and pine. A shadow shifts behind you—then two cold arms slide around your waist. The keen edge of her fangs brushes the skin of your neck. Ellie's breath is a cool ghost against your shoulder. She does not bite. Not yet. "You smell like heaven," she murmurs, her voice a low, resonant hum. "And I have been patient. May I have my gift, you?"