#shark no longer looks like a real word

[mj0702]

The other Bronze - Part One

Here we go again 🤣 Thank you (as always) to Crush and Bubs

(the bad Spanish is courtesy of Google and if you find typos or anything please point them out to me 😉)

Y/n POV

You finally walked the last steps towards the door of your Sisters small house at the Outskirts of Barcelona. What you're doing in Barca on a random Friday Night? You wanted to surprise Lucy for her Birthday. It took a lot of begging to Mum and Dad to let you fly all on your own from Manchester to Barcelona and when you turned your phone on after landing, you had 26 missed calls and 15 messages already, the last one from your older Brother Jorge telling you to text him if the Plane crashed and you died – real Clown that one. You phoned Mum, telling her that the Flight was just a little delayed and that your still very much alive and not Shark food in the Ocean. You knew Lucy had training, so you stayed a little longer at the Airport, watching people, drinking Coffee. You found some nice company in a Girl, who waited for her Girlfriend and surprisingly spoke English. So know you're currently walking up the steps towards Lucy's front door, her spare key (which you got from Mum, in case Lucy wasn't home), my Earplugs blasting Music and you opened the door – boy what a mistake.

„Luuuucccyyyy!! Happy Birth... OH MY GOD MY EYES!!! OH EW!!“ you started to yell out in horror before spotting my Sister on her Couch. Naked. With another Girl on her knees in front of her, her head buried between your Sisters legs. You turned around as quick as you could, shutting the Door behind you. A few minutes later, some shuffling and swearing from the inside, said door got ripped open again.

„What are you doing here?“ Lucy asked you and you couldn't tell if she was pissed off or just annoyed.

„Surprise??“ you say, your back still facing her.

„Why do you have a Key to my Apartment? You can turn around by the way“ she sounded annoyed, which was good – annoyed is better than pissed off.

„Mum... I just saw things I never wanted to see ever“ you shrugged like it was self-explanatory. „Dear bloody Jesus“ your Sister huffed out, before grabbing your Arm, starting to pull you inside, as you tried to stop her by holding on to the Door frame

„I'm NOT going back in there again“ you say, gagging for good measure.

„Stop being difficult“ Lucy said, putting her arm around your Shoulders instead, having more leverage. Back inside you were sat down at the Kitchen table, the Girl from earlier just making some Coffee.

„I hope you sanitized that Table“ you mumbled, before looking at your Sister „No way you haven't fu...“

„If you finish that Sentence, I'll call Mum telling her that you broke that ugly Vase at Christmas three years ago“ Lucy narrowed her eyes at you, before turning to the Girl „Ona... this is my overly annoying baby Sister y/n... devils spawn... this is Ona, my Girlfriend“

You just looked at the Girl with a blank face nor knowing how to react to these news.

„Manners“ Lucy growled at you and slapped the back of your Head

„Hola“ you said to Ona, not really knowing what to think of her.

„Hola“ Ona smiled back, putting a cup of Coffee in front of you, which Lucy took away the instant it touched the Table „No hay café para ella“ she said to Ona, while ignoring your frustrated „Oi!!“.

„Por qué?“ the dark haired woman asked.

„Look at her.... she's already a pest, I don't need her caffeinated up“ Lucy answered, finally in English, while pointing at you.

„Aye you Arsepiece“ you huffed out, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

„You're English, not Scottish, ya wee shite“ your Sister grinned at you, but finally came over, ruffling you Hair, which is Lucy language for „I love you“.

“I was born in Scotland therefore I’m Scottish” you grumble out.

„I don't understand a word you two say“ Ona said confused, her spanish accent thick as she speaks english and Lucy laughed out loud

„All good...“. She then looks at you again „But seriously... what are you doing here?“.

„Wanted to surprise you for your Birthday... haven't seen you since the Euros“ you mumble a little embarrassed

„You... missed me“ Lucy smirked

„No... how could I miss your annoying Ass?“ you answered quickly and she KNEW she hit a nerve

„I missed you too, Devils Spawn“ she said, pulling you into a side hug

„You never told me you had a younger Sister, Lucia“ Ona said, smiling slightly at our interaction

You just raise an eyebrow at Lucy „Lucia? What have you done to fuck up so badly, that she uses your actual name?“

„Lucia is more common here, you daft punk...“ Lucy rolled her eyes at you still holding you to her side before answering her Girlfriend „I try to keep her away from the Spotlight“

„Oh...“ Ona said, like she understands, which you doubted „I'll leave you two to catch up, I'm going to go...“ she smiled

„Weren't you about to come a little while ago?“ you blurted out, which earned you a very hard punch to the shoulder courtesy of your lovely Sister

Ona just look confused, which causes you to laugh „You can explain that one, Kneeless... Bathroom that way?“.

As you renter the Kitchen, you see Lucy and Ona kissing in the Doorway. You comment it with a loud dry heaving sound. Lucy blindly throws a shoe at you, which misses by miles and you snap a photo of her. You can only see Lucys back and Onas Hands around her Neck, so it's obvious that there's someone else, but you can't see who. You sit back down at the Table, your Stomach starting to growl and you realize just how late it is. You shot up and run up to Lucy, grabbing her shirt, pulling hard successfully ending the make out session

„You have to phone Mum that I'm here, otherwise she'll send a search party and I'm already dead, because I didn't text her that I arrived safely“ you stumble over your words, because nothing is more scary than Mum Bronze in Mum Mode. Lucy rolled her eyes, pecking Onas lips again for a final goodbye, before pushing you back into the Apartment again

„You realize what I just gave up for you?“

„Multiple Orgasms, I know... I don't want to know, but I know... can I post a picture, saying I'm with you?“ you murmur the end of your question, knowing Lucy is very picky with private Pictures and even more, when you're involved

„Let me first call Mum, then let me check the Picture, then we decide what we get for dinner, okay?“ she pressed a Kiss to your temple, already her Phone in Hand, dailing Home.

She was on the Phone to Mum forever, apologizing telling her she was so happy to see you that we forgot to call her. Straight A+ lie, but if someone can pull it off, it's Lucy

„You owe me, Smol“ she said after ending the Call „Now show me that picture, so I can say No and we can go finding food, since my fridge is empty and I planned on eating something else tonight“ she grinned, as you start to dry heave again.

„Please... i REALLY don't want to think about it“ you say pained

Lucy laughed out loudly and you smiled. You really missed her.

„Show me the Picture“ she said, encouraging you, a smile playing around her lips, as you show her.

„That's a good one“ Lucy said after a minute of looking at it closely handing you the phone back „You can use that one... Just don't tag Ona please“

„I don't even know who she is“ you said looking apologetic „but I think she's nice“

Your Sister laughed again „She is... haven't felt like this since Keira“

„Why did you and Keira split up? I really liked her“ you said and Lucy looked at you for a second, really looked at YOU before answering

„We just fell out of Love... nobodies fault... it just happened and it wasn't fair to either of us to keep pretending“ Lucy said carefully, yet seriously, knowing that Topic was difficult for you

„As cliche as it sounds, but we're still friends and I know, Keira will be over the Moon seeing you again“. Truth is, when Lucy and Keira split up you refused to talk to your Sister for weeks, not grabbing fully why she would leave Keira. Keira who was a mixture between a big Sister and a Mother to you. Keira, who made you laugh, when you where sad. Keira, who carried you to bed, when you fell asleep during a Movie. Keira, who held you when you came crying into Lucys Bedroom, just woken up from a Nightmare. In the End, you was just too young to grab fully what was happening. Maybe not too young but you couldn’t understand the feelings behind it.

„Was it my fault?“ you whispered, always the nagging feeling at the back of your Head, that it was your fault they split up.

„What?“ Lucy asked confused „No... of course not! Y/n listen to me... it had NOTHING to do with you“

„But if I would have acted more grown up and not come running nearly every night..“ you stared and Lucy immediately knew what it was about

„Y/n... it had nothing to do with that... nothing! You went through something traumatic and we were honestly glad you trusted us enough to come to us or let us calm you down when you had a nightmare“ she said insistently, holding your look „You had nothing to do with what happened between Keira and I, do you understand me?“

„I just... I feel like it's my fault“ you look down, playing with your fingers

„It's not... and if you don't believe me, you can ask Keira...“ Lucy said, grabbing your Hands in hers, holding them tightly „It just happened“

You let her pull you into a hug and for the first time in a long time you felt safe and home.

„Thanks Luce“ you mumbled against her shoulder

„Always ya wee shite“ she said and you felt her smiling into your Hair.

Yes, even at 16 years old, Lucy is a whole Head bigger than you were. Your stomach growled again and Lucy laughed „What do you want to eat, I'll order“

„I'm in Spain... obviously I want Fish and Chips, Idiot... I want authentic spanish food“ you said sarcastically

„Smartass“ she rolled her eyes „We could also go out, whatever you want“

„It's YOUR Birthday... why do I have to choose? “ you said, honestly confused

„I was trying to be nice... I know a small little Restaurant, not too far from here“ she grinned at you

„Do I have to change for it?“ you asked, looking down at your button down shirt, ripped jeans and the baby blue chucks

„Other shoes and you're good to go“ Lucy said as she threw a pair of NIKEs your way „I'll just go change, don't do anything stupid“ she pointed her finger threatenly at you

„Never, my beloved Sister“ you say sarcastically.

While Lucy is changing, you decided against posting the picture of Lucy and Ona kissing online. You know your Sister values her privacy and even she gave you the ok, it didn't feel right – but that doesn't mean you couldn't send it to someone else... Keira.

Y/n: ~ inserts picture ~ It finally happened Kei... I walked in on her... thankfully I haven't eaten today, otherwise Lucy would have to clean that up too

Keira: You're in Barcelona, Bitsy?! Why didn't you tell me?

Y/n: Sure am... wish I wasn't tho... ehm... surprise?

Keira: I hope you didn't plan to fuck off without saying hi... and don't kid yourself, Bitsy... that definitely wasn't the first time you walked in on your Sister ;)

Y/n: of fucking course not... and how would you know that, Ms. Walsh?

Keira: Because I was there :p

After you read Keiras last Text, you threw your Phone to the other End of the Couch with a loud „EW!!“.

Lucy came running from the Bedroom, looking at you shocked „What happened?? Are you okay?“. „I walked in on you and Keira???“ you cried out in agony.

„What?“ Lucy looked at you confused. You showed her your Phone, which caused her to laugh – full on belly laugh „Oh yeah... I forgot about that“ Lucy laughed.

„I WALKED IN ON YOU AND KEIRA???“ you screeched horrified.

„Yep... multiple times actually“ Lucy grinned.

„Oh god... I think I need to throw up? When... wait no... don't answer that“

Your Sister laughed again, throwing a coat towards you, silently telling you that you were leaving. „Is it okay, if I invite some people?“ she asked you, as you leave the Apartment.

„It's your Birthday, Luce – you can invite whoever you want“ you shrugged your Shoulders. „Whomever“ Lucy corrected you automaticly, before she pulled out her phone and send some texts. „Smartass“ you mumble as your Sister put her Arm around your Shoulders, manoeuvring you through the City.

Just as you rounded a corner into a small side road, someone shoulder checked you, turning around, yelling something in spanish at you. You looked at the guy confused, feeling Lucy going into protective Mode, making herself bigger by your Side. Before she could say anything, you looked at the Guy, yelling at him „Cállate la Boca, matildo hijo de puta!“

Your Sister looked shocked at you as does the Guy. You put on your best Bronze-Fightingface, before making a step towards him. Just as the Guy made up his mind and also took a step towards you, a Woman pushed right in between you two oozing confidence and started talking calmly to the Guy. She was pretty but damn – she was intimidating. The Guy talked back twice, before turning around, leaving the little alley

„What the Hell, Y/n??“ Lucy yelled at you „What the hell did you say to that guy? I understood ONE word and know it wasn't a compliment – and since when do you speak spanish?“

She then turned to the Woman „Hola Alexia... Gracias por interferir“

„Ningún problema“ the woman smiled at my Sister

„And you“ she turned to you „Where did you learn that?“

And there was that intimidating look again, which made you gulp. You grew up with Lucy Bronze, but this woman scared you. You pushed yourself behind your Sister, trying to hide

„Answer her“ Lucy pulled you out from behind her.

You just shook your Head and mumbled „She scares me Luce“

„Good“ your Sister mumbled „now answer her“

You shook your Head again. The woman looked at you and smiled slightly

„Excuse me. Hi, my name is Alexia, I'm a teammate and friend of your Sister“

You're still careful, not to stand to close to her „Hi... Y/n... I'm.. the Sister of my Sister“

This actually made her laugh, while Lucy groaned and started to rub her forehead embarrassed

„So... now that we know each other, where did you learn to offend spanish people? As much as I gathered, you don't speak spanish..“ Alexia said and immediately she got all scary again

„I... no... yes?“ You looked at her and tried to hide behind Lucy again, who groaned again. „Cariño.... my patience is wearing quite thin... you better start talking” Alexia said sweetly, but you knew it was a fair warning

“A girl at the Airport taught me... I just tried to order a coffee, which is SO hard in your country and the Barista didn't understand me and she kinda took over and ordered for me... as a thank you, I paid for hers... and we sat together as she waited for her Girlfriend and since we had time, she taught me some spanish” you stutter out

“Do you even know what you just said?” Alexia looked at you shocked

“ehrm... no... but the girl said I have to put on a Bitchface after saying it... she was cool...”

“Y/n... you just can't throw around spanish phrases, because SOMEONE told you” Lucy pressed.

“She look trustworthy” you defended yourself

“Cariño...” Alexia said softly “... don't EVER say that again, because you will get hurt in the process”

“Is it bad?” you ask unsure

“It is...” the Spanish woman said “... and if I ever find that Girl, that taught you, I will have a VERY serious talk with her... in spanish” she winked at you

“What are the Odds” you mumbled and Lucy looked at you

“What odds?” she asked you confused

“That girl just turned around the Corner” you said, pointing at a Girl, laughing loudly with some other girls

“I should have known” Alexia groaned out “María Pilar León Cebrián!!! Nosotras necesitamos hablar!!!” she yelled out

The Girl in questions Head snapped towards Alexias angry Voice, her laughter dying in her throat. She made eye contact with you, her eyes went comically wide and you could swear, you saw her mouthing the word “Fuck”, before slowly starting to walk backwards

“Oh please do” Alexia sneered, while walking towards Maria “Please start running, so I can chase after you because after I caught you, I'm gonna drag your sorry Ass up to Nuo and let you run Laps until Training is over and then some more...”

You turned towards your Sister “Isn't Nuo Egg?” you ask confused

“Huevo is Egg.. Nuo is the Stadium where we train and play” Lucy explained

“Ah... and why is Alexia calling me Cariño ... is that some weird spanish name?” you said, still confused

This Time Lucy laughed out loud, while Alexia is “actively” having a word with Maria – she was outright yelling at the poor Girl. You actually did feel sorry for her. Maria looked very guilty, trying to explain, but not getting a word in.

“Cariño is a form of endearment... something like Honey”

“Excuse me?? She could have at least taken me out on a Date first” you huffed, but smiled.

“Are you causing trouble already?” a voice behind you said amused. You turned around and sprinted off, throwing yourself in the Womans arms.

“I missed you, Keira” you mumbled into her neck, while she's hugging you tightly

“I missed you too, Bitsy” she kissed your Hair, not breaking the contact

You felt safe in her arms. Lucy came over after getting over her initial shock of you just sprinting off

“For once, it wasn't her causing the Trouble... it was Mapí” Lucy said, nodding towards a still yelling Alexia with her head

“What a surprise – Mapí causing trouble... these two would absolutely cause havoc” Keira laughed, not letting go of you

“Take a guess, why Mapí is getting yelled at... they have met already” your Sister grinned

“Oh god” Keira groaned laughing “What has Mapí done?”

“She taught me spanish” you said proudly

“What did she teach...” the other english woman started before getting interrupted by Lucy “Don't!!!! Don't ask!”

Keira was a little taken aback, but didn't ask any further

“She taught me a phrase... apparently it's a bad one and I'm not allowed to say it again, otherwise the scary Woman will have my Ass” you said, still pressed into Keiras side

“Scary Woman?” Keira raised an eyebrow at Lucy

“Alexia” your Sister answered shrugging her shoulders

“Mapí would like to say something” said Woman stood behind you three, her hand grabbing the back of Marias neck, who looked like a kicked puppy

“Lamento mucho haberte enseñado algo malo” the smaller Woman mumbled, clearly not happy or comfortable with the situation

“En Inglés” Alexia rolled her eyes “As you maybe remember, little Bronze doesn't speak spanish”. “Su hermana lo hace - ella puede traducir” Maria said

“Maria” Alexia warned “Deja de ser difícil y discúlpate correctamente”

“I'm sorry for teaching you bad spanish” the younger woman huffed out annoyed

“It's...” you started, before Alexia interrupted you “And now we try to say that, like we really mean it” she said to Mapí, grabbing her neck a little tighter

“I'm sorry” the younger girl winced

“Very good” Alexia smiled, but everyone saw it was fake, before getting a stern face again “You still will run laps tomorrow”

“What??? I apologized” Mapí said shocked

“Still doesn't change the fact, that you nearly caused a fight – if I hadn't stepped in, she most like would have end up in the Hospital with a broken nose... or worse” Alexia said

“Oi!” you yelled out “I may be small, but I can hold myself, thank you very much”

“We” Alexia looked at you sternly “Will talk tomorrow”

You gulped again, making yourself smaller at Keiras side, who had watched the whole interaction with an amused grin on her face.

“Can we get food now?” you whispered into Keiras side

The Midfielder laughed loudly “Let's go” she said as she pulled you into the small Restaurant, everyone following you. You sat between Lucy and Alexia, Mapí to Alexias right, next to her her Girlfriend Ingrid, Keira was to Lucys left with one seat free in between them for when Ona would join.

“What's edible here?” you ask to no one particular, studying your menu.

“Should I order for you, Cariño?” Alexia ask, wanting to make you feel welcome and comfortable “If this is you aassuming that this is a date, then no...” you say distracted, still try to figure out the menu.

Alexia was taken aback, while your Sister laughed.

“But what is... potatoes braves?” you asked, looking up confused.

Mapí clutched her heart dramatically “My heart... my Heart burns... I think I have a heart attack.. is this what a heart attack feels? My poor Heart”

“What is her deal?” you asked your Sister, who already had tears in her eyes from laughing

“You just absolutely BUTCHERED her language and food” Keira said, her tone dry as usual still looking over the menu.

“But it says there...” you climbed on top of Lucy, your Knee pressing into her thigh, causing her to groan out in pain, to show Keira on the Menu “Potatoes braves... or something like that”

“Patatas Bravas” Keira corrected you “It is potatoes, but it's not called Potatoes and definitely not Braves..”

“Look at you, all fancy spanishing” you rolled your eyes at her, but she knew you didn't mean it.

“Could you please finally get off me?” Lucy groaned out, pushing you back on your chair “When did you get so heavy?”

“Are you calling me fat, Arse biscuits??” you challenged her by raising an eyebrow

“What if I do, Twat McFuckknuckle?” Lucy taking your bait, raising her eyebrow as well

“Stop it! Both of you, we have company AND in public” Keira said sharply, successfully interrupting your interaction “God the two of you – always trouble”

You kicked Lucys ankle lightly under the Table, she shoving you, pushing you successfully into Alexia.

“Sorry... she pushed me” you mumbled out, while shoving Lucy back.

Alexia looked at Keira “Are they always this violent towards each other?”

“Oh this isn't violent – this is actually them behaving” Keira smiled fake, watching you two shoving each other “Just wait till there's food on the Table – THEN it gets violent”.

Just as they were about to order, Ona joined the small Group, pressing a small Kiss to Lucys lips. You watched that interaction with a frown on your face. You cared deeply for Keira and assumed it wasn't easy on her watching her Ex and her new Girlfriend kissing right in front of her. You carefully looked at Keira, but saw her laughing with Ingrid, who changed seats for conversation purposes.

“What's this dark look on your face, Cariño?” Alexia whispered in your ear, unknowing to you, she always had an eye on you.

“Nothing” you said flatly, not wanting to start a scene “I'm just hungry”

It was your Sisters Birthday after all and she looked very happy with Ona.

“Dinner will be served soon, don't worry” the Barca captain said lightly, putting a hand on your bouncing knee.

“Ale?” Mapí asked from Alexias other side.

“Si?” the woman in question looked at her younger Teammate

“Can we swipe seats?” Mapí asked hopefully.

You look at her confused “You want to what?”

“Swipe seats... I take Alexias, she sits in my seat” the young spanish said

“Oh... OH... you mean swap...” you say as you realize what she wants “and they say I butcher a language”

“No” Alexia said sternly “before you ask, you two won't be anywhere unsupervised”

“Oi” you exclaim “I'm very capable of looking after myself”, while Mapí exclaimed something in spanish.

“No idea what she said, but she's right” you say, pointing at Mapí

“Enough” Alexia said sternly, both of you stop complaining immediately.

Keira looked impressed at Alexia, trying to hide her smirk. Lucy was in her own world with Ona, ignoring everything around her. Finally there was Food on the Table and before the Plagrabfor everyone even were placed on the Table, you and Mapí already starting to grab whatever you could reach. Alexia watched in horror, as you two just loading food on your own plates without waiting for the rest “Excuse me? María León... I know for a fact that you have manners and won't just load your plate with food without WAITING for everyone else – especially for the Woman who celebrates her birthday today... isn't that right, María?”

Mapí looked down on her plate guilty, before starting to put the food back.

“I thought so” Alexia said, still a mad undertone in her voice

You on the other Hand didn't care one bit. You grew up in the Bronze household. You snooze, you loose. You threw a little fried something into your mouth, chewing happily. That was until the spiciness kicked in. Your eyes went wide, tears starting to form in your eyes and you started to have problems to breath. As always, you turned to Keira for help, throwing food at her to get her attention.

“Y/n please... I didn't raise you for years so you start throwing food in public” the Woman said, turning to you before realizing what was happening. Once she saw you in your distressed state, she immediately came over, pulling you out of your chair and out of the restaurant. Lucy finally noticed her surroundings, as Keira pulled you outside. She jumped up, following the two of you outside

“What happened?” Lucy asked worried, seeing you having difficulties to breath and tears streaming down your face.

“I don't know. She suddenly started to throw food at me, I actually was about to tell her off, but saw her having problems to breath and got her out” Keira gave Lucy a rundown, while keeping you upright

“It's okay, Bitsy... calm down” Keira started to talk to you in a low, soothing voice “Take a deep breath for me”

You tried to follow her instructions, but with no luck. Lucy finally sprung into action grabbing you by your shoulders, making you look at her

“Did you eat something?”

You nod, still trying your hardest to breath.

“Spicy?”

You nod again, thankful that your Sister keeps a cool head.

“You're doing good, Bubs... Do you know what you've eaten?”

You shake your head.

“Okay... we can work with that” Lucy said, a small reassuring smile on her lips, turning to Keira “Could you get something dairy.. milk... yoghurt... whatever”

“Sure” Keira smiled before disparaging inside the Restaurant.

“It's okay, Bubs... it's going to get better soon, I promise – just... don't shovel everything into your gob without asking next time.. these guys here are absolutely unholy when it comes to spicy food”. Just as your Sisters calm voice started to work on your nerves, Keira appeared with a glass of milk AND yoghurt

“Drink Bitsy” she smiled assuringly at you, pushing the glass of milk into your hands.

You took a sip and immediately felt your tight chest loosen up. Greedily you drowned the whole glass, feeling better with every gulp.

“Fuck” was the first word, that left your mouth after you regain your breathing again.

“You okay now, Bubs?” Lucy asked concerned.

“Getting there” you said, leaning forward, your hands on your knees “But I think I need to throw up”

Lucy pulled you upright quickly “Are you serious?”

“Yep” you breathed deeply, your stomach on a wrath for torturing it

“I'm getting you home right now” your Sister said seriously “Spicy is one thing, but your stomach is normally made of steel, that's not normal”

You just groaned

“Stay” Keira said to your Sister “It's your Birthday – I'll take her to my Place and have an eye on her... you stay and enjoy your evening, okay?”

“I can't ask that of you, Kei” Lucy said softly

“You're not asking... I'm offering” Keira smiled softly “If she feels up for it, we can meet for brunch or lately at training”

“Thank you” Lucy whispered, hugging her Ex-Girlfriend before turning to you “You behave... be good for Keira”

You nod before Keira wraps you into a hug, leading you away.

As soon as you're out of earshot and view, Keira let go of you and grinned knowingly “You can stop pretending now...”

You looked at her shocked “How did you know?”

“I was always able to tell... your sister is right, you have a stomach made of steel... your whole face changed after you drank the milk and I knew you're alright again... what I don't know is why you put on a show” the english Woman smirked at you, as she called you out

“Didn't want you to put up with Lucy and her new One being all lovey-dovey all evening... and I didn't want to put up with it either” you mumble caught.

Keira started to laugh loudly “Oh Bitsy... I see that lovey-dovey every day... it's okay for me... Lucy deserves to be happy...”

You looked at Keira and she knew there was more to it.

“What's wrong, Bitsy?” she ask lovingly

“I feel like it's my fault you broke up...” you mumble, having a hard deja-vu

“Oh sweetheart... no it's not... Lucy and I just grew apart. It happens and it's nobodies fault, especially not yours... but there's more, isn't it?” Keira said softly

“I don't like the new one” you mumble out, looking down embarrassed

“Why? Ona is a good person, she's good to and for your Sister”

“She looks like she doesn't even need to shave” you exclaimed.

Keira bursted out laughing “You're one of a kind, Bitsy... trust me... Ona is a good Person and she's good for Lucy... I know you're always struggling with change, but please.. give Ona a chance, she'll surprise you”

“M'kay” you mumble.

You arrived at Keiras Apartment, she let you both in before setting up her guest room for you. You went on exploring Keiras home. You were about to open a cabinet as she called from the guest room “Don't you dare open my Cabinets... I love you but you're a clutz”.

You quickly let go of the handle, looking at the pictures hanging on the wall instead. You spotted one of yourself and Lucy, sound asleep on your Couch in Manchester. You laid on top of Lucy, while she was sprawled out under you, her right arm over your back, holding you safely, her knee carefully placed on some pillows, her glasses askew on her face, your hand fisted in her shirt.

“I love that picture” Keiras voice soft behind you “I came back from training, wondering why she hadn't answered my texts about dinner... I walked in and both of you were softly snoring on the Couch. Your leg was so close to her freshly operated knee, that I was afraid you'd hurt it, if you move and I tried to lift you off her, but both of you started to stir as soon as I moved you. So I just let you sleep – after I took a picture. I think Lucy slept for another hour and you slept for nearly three more hours”

Keiras voice was soft and full of love, that you started crying silently. Another picture showed Lucy and Keira in a park, you asleep in between them. You pointed at the picture, your back still facing her.

“London” Keira said understanding you even without words “Our first anniversary.. She planned this whole Weekend to the brim, with fancy Restaurant, Musical Show, Sightseeing... everything... then your parents got so sick with the flu, that we took you with us... her plans went so fast out the window” Keira laughed quietly “but we improvised and instead of fancy restaurant we did pick-nick in Hyde Park – and I wouldn't change it for the world. You were so done after a day of exploring the city and all of the sights, that you were out like light as soon as you sat down”

You pointed at the next picture, again the three of you.

“You can't remember this one?” she asks you surprised.

“I do” you whisper “but... please”

“Paris” Keira said softly “Third anniversary.. Lucy just joined Lyon and invited me over to France for our anniversary She told me, she has the weekend off and wanted to take me to Paris – I honestly thought she would propose... Somehow you heard Lucy talking to your mum and begged her to let you come as well. It was the first time you two were separated and everyone could see that it was so hard on you. Lucy said as long as I'm okay with it, you could come. I remember you being so over the top with your nerves, that you ran around the Airport like a maniac... I lost you twice” Keira chuckled “and as soon as we started, you were out like a light again. In Paris, I had do carry you off the Plane, because you wouldn't wake up – and I still had to get our luggage AND carry you. It took me forever and Lucy was starting to panic that I bailed until she saw me, packed like a Donkey holding onto your sleeping form, dragging our bags behind me. And what did she do? She first smiled and then laughed – but it was the most beautiful sound in the world to me”

“Do you miss her?” you asked quietly.

“Of course I do” Keira answered honestly.

“Do you still love her?”

“I love her, yes... but I'm not IN love with her” she said.

You finally turned around, hugging her tightly.

“I miss you at home... so much” you mumble into her shoulder, tears rolling down your cheeks. Keira held you tightly “Oh sweet girl.. I miss you too – I really do”

You stayed like this for a moment, before your eyes grew heavy and Keira carefully walked the two of you towards the Guest bedroom, not letting go of you. You held onto her for dear life, letting her guide you.

As Keira kicked the door of the Guest room open, you mumble into her shoulder “Don't wanna sleep alone”

The english Woman chuckled lightly “I thought so... I just thought I'd offer, just in case... being a good host and everything”

She guided you towards her own Bedroom and sat you down on the Bed. You already were half asleep and whined tiredly as Keira let go of you. She smiled at your hunched over form

“Hush you... I need to change and get ready for bed – you too by the way”

You whined again “too much effort”

“Come on” Keira pulled at your Shirt “Teeth, Face, Change”

You felt like being Seven all over again.

“Nooooo” you whined out.

“Don't start... I'm not Lucy, I'm not a push-over... seven years of me in your life should have taught you that” Keira said severe.

You huffed heavy-hearted, before pushing off the Bed, shuffling towards the bathroom.

Keira smiled to herself “Still a big baby”.

After both of you went through your nightly Routine, with Keira basically brushing your teeth for you and changed your button down shirt with a normal shirt to sleep in, you made it into bed, where you immediately cuddled into Keiras arms and closed your Eyes. The older Woman kissed the Crown of your Head as she mumbled sweet nothings into the dark room, knowing you'd fall asleep in an instant.

Part 2 follows... at some point 😅

[thesuperiorrobin]

Winter season~

‪‪❤︎‬ Pairing: Single Dad!Damian Wayne x Fem!Nanny!Reader

‪‪❤︎‬ Word count: 1.5k

‪‪❤︎‬ Warnings: none!

I do know know if I spelled the write term from father in Arabic correctly, asked a friend who speaks it and she told me she calls her dad “baba”. But if I did use the wrong term or spilled it wrong let me know please!

Christmas seemed to be the only holiday the twins looked forward to all year, but then again what kid doesn’t? The twins are settled beside you, on their feet with red and white plastic balls in hand, debating on which color should cover the tall tree.

“Red should go on the tree,” Amir says, placing the red ornaments on the tree and watching it dangle. The little girl huffs slapping the ornament onto the ground. The plastic ball makes a noise as it comes in contact with the wooden floor. You frown.

“Ew no!” Fatima sticks her tongue at her brother, who’s older by seven minutes. “Red was last year! We do white this year!”

“Nuh-uh!” The boy shakes his head roughly, kneeling to pick up his decoration before waving it at his sister's face. “It’s Red! It’ll look so much cooler!”

“I don’t want cooler! I want pretty! So white!” You listen to the twins bicker back and forth for a few minutes before sighing heavily, snatching both decors off their hands and placing them on the tree.

“We’ll use both this year and that's final” the young set of twins let out grumbles as their little hands pick up their color ornaments and start decorating the bottom of the tree while you stick with the top part they can't reach. A normal person would take about thirty minutes to an hour to finish decorating a Christmas tree, but being stuck with two stubborn children took a lot longer than it should have been. You take a step back to admire the work you and the two children have put in, most of the ornaments fell at the bottom a clear indication that the twins did help while yours were scattered around—barely touching.

Fatima tugs at the hem of your shirt—taking your attention off the tree and onto her. She’s holding something in her hand—they look like Christmas ornaments but they weren’t from the boxes that you had initially picked out. “We made some in class for our last day! Can we put them on the tree?” She seemed to hesitate with the last sentence and all you could do was nod, a bright smile on your face.

“Of course! Where do you want to put them”

“on the top!” They shout. A chuckle erupts from your throat as you pick them up one by one, Amir’s then Fatima's. Their homemade decoration is placed next to each—you examine them carefully. You can tell who’s who by the snowmen are lined up. There are four snowmen on their balls, which leaves you confused.

“Who’s the fourth snowman?”

“That one’s you!” The little girl, who’s still in your arms, giggles. A soft smile forms on your lips as your heart warms.

“Can I light up the tree now?” You nod down at the little boy who gives you a toothy grin and skips behind the tree. It takes a few before the lights around the tree light up and green, red, and white fill your visions.

“Still think we should have gone with white, but this will do” You roll your eyes playfully, bringing Fatima onto the ground carefully.

“Do you have your Christmas list done? Or do you two need more time?” you question, they answer quickly “mines in my room!”

“Mines in my backpack!” And before you can set an answer the twins are sprinting off in different directions. You leave behind and with a sigh, you sit done on the comfortable couch in the room. A smile paints your lips the longer you stare at the colorful tree in front of you. Not long after the twins leave they come running back with a piece of paper in their small hands.

Fatima hands you hers, and you aren’t shocked by the many things she’s asking for this year. You read the list carefully and your eyes land on a certain bullet point.

“A real-life shark?”

“Mhm!” She hums “We learned about them and I thought they were pretty so I want one!”

“Well let’s wait and see what Santa can do” You smile at the little girl and Amir hands you his, he doesn’t ask for much but you are surprised to see only four things on the small piece of paper.

“No toys this year?”

“I’m too old for them” he huffs “I’m a big kid now so I don’t need any toys” You hum

“Not asking for Nerf guns?”

“I outgrew them” his answer hesitated. You scan their list one more time before you send them to get ready for bed, they protest but go on their way, dragging their behind them. A small laugh comes from your throat as you shake your head. The Christmas tree disappears from your sight as you leave the room with the letters still in your hand. The walk to his office is short, as you are faced with the dark brown wooden door you bring your arm up—hand in a fist as you knock on the door three times.

You wait until there is a faint ‘come in’ from the other side. The door lets out a small creek as you open it, stepping foot into the room, there Sits the infamous Damian Wayne, at his desk signing away at papers that lay below him. He places his pen down, forgetting about the papers once he feels your presence.

You wave the letters around with a bright smile “I got their Christmas list!” The letters slide across his desk as you pass them over to him, and with an exhausted sigh, you drag yourself to the couch a few steps away and plop yourself down, head resting on the arm set. Damian scans his children's list, chuckling at His daughter’s list as he reads a few things off hers.

“A shark?” You hum in response. He moves on to his oldest son, head tilted in confusion. “Four things? Not even a single toy?”

“He secretly wants more Nerf guns” He hums. Damian takes a look at your exhausted form, chuckling.

“I assume my stubborn children burned you out today?”

“Wasn’t so bad today, just a small argument about the tree ornaments”

“Fighting over what color they should be again?”

“Yeah, but in the end we went with both red and white. So no more arguing” It’s silent between you two, taking in the quietness before it’s gone. The sound of pen against paper stops and it goes unnoticed by you. Damian’s paper is forgotten once more, taking in your figure as you lay still on the couch with an arm over your eyes. Your breathing is even but you aren’t sleeping, he could tell by the way you softly hum to keep yourself from dozing off.

The soft sound of steps breaks his gaze, green eyes land on his closed door, seconds before it’s slammed open to reveal his blood dressed in colorful sleepwear. Their giggles fill the room—each running to whom they land their eyes on first. Fatima runs to her father, running behind his desk and jumping in his arms, trying to get a look at what lies on top Thankfully Damian hid the letters as soon as he heard them. Amir Runs to you, finding a place beside you seeing as you’re no longer lying down.

“Did you see the tree baba?!”

Fatima exclaims eyes shining brightly as she stares up at her father, Damian shakes his head, much to the little girl's disappointment. “Not yet ‘Amira, I’ve been busy” his accent runs as he pinches the small frown off the little girl's face, Fatima lets out a small giggle, slapping her father's hand off her cheeks.

“The white kinda ruins it” Amir murmurs quickly, and you cover his mouth, frowning. Fatima sends a glare at her older twin, green eyes staring at the side of his face viciously. The small boy takes your hand off his mouth turning to his sister to repeat his sentence to her face.

“I said-“

“he said ‘let’s go brush our teeth!” He cuts him off, not wanting to deal with the Wayne twin's outburst so late in the night, you grab ahold of his hand before reaching your hand out to the little girl who jumps off her father's lap and runs to you—grasping your hand in hers.

“But that’s not what I said” he protested

“Yes it was, now come. Your father has work to finish, us interrupting him means he won’t be able to read you stories before bed.”

Damian can only stare at the scene in front of him, his children clinging to you as you drag them out of his study. His children were never the way they are now, always quiet and kept to themselves, but once you came you seemed to break them out of that habit. You were what they needed and it’s a Christmas miracle that you were able to win them over so easily. The other Nannies couldn’t do what you did, quitting after a week or so his children were so difficult, but he couldn’t blame them they got that trait from him.

Once you’re out of his sight he goes back to signing, but something tells him to look over their list one more time and he does, scanning over until he flips over the paper. His ears tune red and his skin feels warm when he reads the single bullet point.

“Make Miss Y/N our mother!”

Written in bold letters.

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: cookie cutter shark

There are some words that just shouldn't go together, like "edible radium", "reasonable conspiracy theorist", and "sandpaper underwear". Well here's a new one for you: "parasitic shark". The only problem is, that one is real. Yeah, this is one of those animals that's so bizarre it would be mocked as too silly if a fiction writer came up with it. Welcome back to Wet Beast Wednesday, where we discuss the cookie cutter shark.

(Image: a cookie cutter shark said on a patch of fabric. It is a small, brown shark with a darker collar region. Its fins are small and the head is blunt. It is widest around the middle. A pencil has been placed next to it for scale. End ID)

There are two known species of cookie cuter shark: Isistius brasiliensis and Isistius plutodus. The latter, common name: largetooth cookie cutter shark, is much rarer and less well known than the former, which will be the main topic of this post. The cookie cutter shark is a very small shark, measuring between 42 and 56 cm (16-22 in) in length as adults. They have multiple adaptations that set them apart from other sharks, even other members of the dogfish order. Their bodies are described as cigar-shaped, which is why another common name is cigar shark. The head is short and rounded and the mouth is large, with prominent teeth and large lips. The upper teeth are small and narrow while the lower teeth are larger and form a saw-like edge. Unlike other sharks, they do not replace one tooth at a time, but instead lose and replace the entire front lower row at once.

(Image: a closeup of the head of a preserved shark. The lips have been pulled back to expose the mouth showing the large, saw-like lower teeth and much smaller upper teeth. End ID).

Cookie cutters are among the few sharks that are strongly bioluminescent. Their underbellies and a collar around the neck area have luminescent cells called photophores. The cells on the belly mimic light from above, making it difficult for predators below to distinguish the shark from the surface of the ocean. The cells on the neck are believed to be used for attracting prey by mimicking a small fish. Cookie cutter sharks have large livers with a high oil content that helps them maintain buoyancy. While most fins are small (or in the case of the anal fin, missing), the tail fin is large and suited for sudden bursts of speed. Longtooth cookie cuter sharks are larger, with longer bottom teeth and smaller fins.

(Image: photos of the underside of a cookie cutter shark showing the bioluminescent photophores, which make the belly look blue. End ID)

The common name of the cookie cutter shark comes from its unique feeding mechanism. The sharks are deep-sea ambush predators that use their natural buoyancy to remain motionless in the water column while using their bioluminescence to attract prey. When prey approaches, the shark will dart forward and attach to the larger animal. Using its lips to form a seal, the shark can generate suction to make it very hard to remove. It then uses the upper teeth as an anchor to help the larger bottom teeth pierce the skin. Then , the shark spins around (the thrashing of its prey may help) to cut out a roughly circular plug of skin and muscle. The circular holes left behind are reminiscent of bits of cookie dough cut out by a cookie cutter, hence the name. The sharks will also eat small fish and squid whole and are known to scavenge carrion. They will sometimes school, possibly to help attract prey while discouraging predators. Just about any medium to large animal in the shark's territory is a possible target. Scars from cookie cutter shark feeding have been found on cetaceans (whales and dolphins), pinnipeds (seals and sea lions), other sharks, rays, and bony fish. Because the sharks feed off of other animals without killing them, they are considered parasites. Specifically, they are facultative ectoparasites, meaning they attach to the outside of their hosts and are not fully dependent on parasitism to survive.

(Image: a swordfish with multiple fresh bites from cookie cutter sharks. The bites look like pink pits dug into the swordfish's side. End ID)

Cookie cutter sharks are found worldwide in the mesopelagic zone (roughly 200 - 3000 ft deep), though they have been known to move to shallower water. They are found worldwide and seem to prefer the open ocean. Most sightings are around islands, but its not clear if they do congregate around islands or this is a case of sampling bias. Because of their remote habitats, little is known about their behavior in the wild. Likewise, we don't know much about their reproductive behavior, though like other dogfish, they are viviparous. The embryos are raised in two uteruses and there can be up to 12 of them. They likely have a very long gestation period.

(Image: a slender cookie cutter shark seen from the side)

Cookie cutter sharks are classified as least concern by the IUCN. There is no fishery for them and they are only caught as bycatch. People have been able to see the scars left by the sharks on their prey for a very long time and there were several hypotheses for what was leaving the scars, including lampreys and bacteria. In 1971, scientist Everett Jones was the one who discovered that the cigar sharks (as they were then known) were responsible. The name cookie cutter shark became popular after that. Human interaction with the sharks are rare, but multiple attacks have been recorded, most of them on swimmers trying to cross the channels in Hawai'i. There have also been reports of shipwrecked sailors being attacked and bodies have been recovered with signs of cookie cutter shark scavenging. Generally though, the sharks are not considered dangerous to humans due to their remote, deep-sea habitat. Back in the 1970s, US Navy submarines kept finding circular holes in the neoprene coating of their sonar domes, which let components leak out and impaired the subs' navigation abilities. Putting fiberglass over the domes solved the problem, but it wasn't realized until much later that the damage was caused by cookie cutter sharks mistaking the subs for prey and not an unknown weapon. This wasn't even the only time this happened. In the 1980s, it happened again with the robber coating for some electric equipment. If only we could all setback militaries as easily as this little shark.

(Image: a circular scar left on someone's calf by a cookie cutter shark bite. End ID)

[pedripics]

IBAI x PEDRI - January 2, 2024 (summary)

He’s doing okay but things are a bit tough at the moment

He spent Christmas at home in Tenerife with his family

They play 'Suika Game' a lot in the dressing room (but on the phone and not the PC because it's free there lol)

He laughed a lot with Piqué in the dressing room. Piqué didn't really like training sessions but he was very good in the matches

Have you ever looked at Pique and thought that if you wanted to, you could dribble past him 7 times? - "Yes (laughs)"

Ferran has supported him a lot and is always there for him

Ferran takes the shark mentality very seriously, so Pedri gave him some shark slippers and now Ferran wears them in the dressing room

He tries to help Gavi every day because he knows what it's like to be injured for a longer time and he's confident that he will come back in great condition

Pedri does pilates now after Puyol recommended it to him

Pedri has Aleix García in his Fantasy team (his brother is first, he is second)

He rarely uses Twitter, he uses Twitch and TikTok more

They are behind Xavi 100%

In his opinion, Neymar looks good with every hairstyle

Girona are playing very well and he thinks that they could win LaLiga

Jordi Alba and Piqué were always fighting but that's how they got on. They just liked to fight lmao

Vitor Roque is wonderful, he is always happy, whenever Pedri sees him he is smiling

He doesn't like press conferences at all because they are a bit disturbing as all the journalists stare at you while you just sit there

In the Premier League, they are able to spend 80 or 90 million for players which is unbelievable. In La Liga, academies are what makes the difference

They don't really talk about the Super League in the dressing room

Boca Juniors or River Plate? - He's only watched one game and Boca won, so Boca

For Pedri, Busquets is the best No. 6 in history

His favourite player is Iniesta (in case you somehow didn't know that yet)

His favourite XI in history: ter Stegen, Jordi Alba, Piqué, Ramos, Alves, Xavi, Iniesta, Busquets, Ronaldinho, Ronaldo (after being forced by Ibai), Messi and Luis Enrique as a Coach (he changed out Ronaldinho for Neymar later)

Luis Enrique doesn't have What's App. If you want to talk to him, you need to send him an SMS

He was nervous when scoring the decisive penalty against Real Betis because the goalkeeper was a giant

Hardest defeat: penalty shootout against Italy (Euros 2020)

He supported Argentina in the WC final (for Leo)

He would like Haaland to sign for Barça (in his words "as a replacement for Lewy because he won't play for us until he's 60") and he also really likes Julían Alvarez (agent Pedri 👀)

His first friend at Barça was Trincāo

A dream: to win the Champions League and the World Cup

Before games, he likes to listen to slow Spanish music (Julio Iglesias? - "Maybe (laughs)")

His favourite singer is Quevedo (everyone act surprised please)

Vitor is only 18 years old, you cannot ask him to be the new Pele, but he has a lot of confidence from the club

He normally always stops for fans but there are always the same 5-6 TikTokers in front of the training ground so he sometimes doesn't stop if it's just them

He is rewatching Prison Break at the moment, even though he's seen it two times already. The first season is the best one in his opinion

He used to watch anime but not anymore

Kounde has the confidence to wear anything

They should listen to the players more because the calendar is so tightly packed right now and there are too many injuries

He would like to score more goals

He found scoring goals strange when he was younger because he never knew how to celebrate and all he did was run and look stupid

Ibai breaks his computer mouse and engineer Pedri tells him to plug it out and in again (Pedri indeed managed to fix it)

Favourite place in Barcelona? - Camp Nou ❤️

Ibai and Pedri played 'Guess these 100 Players' and Pedri guessed 94/100 right (and Pedri realised he doesn't know enough South American players)

[differenteagletragedy]

Oh! What if mc was a mermaid and Cove found them lying on the beach one day?.

Cove practically stomped down the path towards the beach, one little hand clenched in a fist and the other, the hand attached to the arm in the pink cast, swinging uselessly.

He hated this stupid town. He hated his house. He hated being away from home and away from his mom. He would never say that he hated his dad, but he wasn't too happy with him, that was for sure.

With his arm broken, he couldn't even swim in the ocean -- a whole summer without being able to swim. Still, he made his way to the shore as fast as he could.

Maybe he could find some cool seashells, he thought. Or maybe he'd finally see a shark tooth.

Deep down, he knew the likelihood of finding a shark tooth wasn't that great. But what he couldn't have imagined is that what he would find was way, way cooler.

As soon as he topped the hill that looked over the beach, he saw it. Or rather, he saw you -- a real live mermaid.

Cove stood still for a moment, barely even breathing, trying to understand what he was looking at. He took off his glasses and wiped them against his shirt, then shoved them back on his face and looked again.

Yep. Still there.

He took off towards you, and that's when you noticed him.

"Hi," you said brightly, waving a hand his way. "A little help please?"

When he got closer, he saw that you weren't just a mermaid with a pretty tail, blues and greens blending into each other, but you were a little kid mermaid. He didn't know if he knew that was a thing, but obviously it was, and that was even more exciting.

"Could you help me, please?" you asked again, flipping your tail to get his attention.

"Yeah," he finally said. "What do you need?"

"Back in the water."

"Ok," Cove answered. "What do I do?"

You held up your hands and looked out to the ocean. He nodded, grabbing them, and started scooting you down until he was up to his ankles, the waves splashing up on his legs, strong enough to pull you back to where you belonged.

"Thanks," you told him, offering him a smile that he readily returned.

"What were you doing up there anyway?" he asked. He didn't make a move to get to drier land, and you were fine there in the shallows.

"I was looking for seashells," you explained. "The best ones are up there. i got stuck."

Cove nodded like that was an entirely understandable predicament, not like he was standing in the ocean talking to a mermaid. He was happy to have been able to help you, and he told you as much.

"Do you come up here a lot?" he asked next. "Up to the shore I mean."

"Yeah, when I can," you answered. "Do you come down here a lot?"

"When I can," he replied. He didn't have the words for it then, but what he was trying to be was smooth.

"Maybe we can play together sometimes," you suggested.

For the first time since he'd moved to Sunset Bird, Cove smiled.

"Yeah, that would be fun."

You talked for a little longer, neither of you really wanting to go, but eventually the evening started turning into night, and Cove heard his father calling for him nearby.

"I have to go," he told you. "But I can hang out tomorrow if you want."

When plans were made to meet again, this time earlier so you'd have plenty of time to play, Cove turned around and started heading back toward the neighborhood.

Maybe this new town wouldn't be so bad after all.

[daisyrb-gvf]

Cruising Into Love-Part 3

d.r.w. x f!reader

Okay, you guys...here it is. I always get nervous about the first smutty chapter. Hope you love it!

Words: 9k

Summary: After your passionate moment with Danny on the island, you both are eager to spend more time together.

Warnings: 18+ readers only

explicit sex, oral (f receiving), language, little sprinkle of life threatening situations, passing tf out, smoking hot Daniel Wagner.

You plop down on your tiny bed, a huge smile on your face. He’s coming tonight, and if you’re honest, hopefully in more ways than one. Danny said he needed to stop, but you didn’t want him to. You would have had sex with him right then and there under the waterfall. You imagine the loud crashing of the water drowning out your inevitable moans and cries. What is it about this man that makes you so electric? You feel out of control, but in the best way possible. You feel alive and young and sexy, feelings that you haven’t had in longer than you can remember.

Your mattress is getting damp from your rain-soaked clothes. You didn’t beat the storm, but racing Danny through the rain, seeing his white muscle tee sticking to his back and shoulders made it all worth it. A wave of warmth rushed over you, even in the unseasonably cold storm. You wondered what it would be like to kiss and suck and worship every single inch of his body, the thought making you falter and slow your pace, your breath hitching. Yeah, it was worth losing the race. Absolutely it was worth it. 

You force yourself to get up and shower quickly. You have to rush to get ready for the show…the show that Danny will be at in all of his fine-ass glory. Oh God, you hope you can keep it together and make it through the performance. You’ll probably have to do a few more faster songs just so you don’t jump out of your skin from excitement.  

– – –

Danny paces in his room, cold from the air conditioner that is still running while he is soaking wet. He opens the door to the balcony and steps out for a moment, breathing in the salty ocean air, grinning and closing his eyes, grabbing onto the railing and leaning back again, daydreaming about the hottest make-out session he’s ever had in his life. The ship horn blasts, indicating that it’s almost time to leave the port, snapping him out of his memory. Looking at the time, he runs to the shower, hoping he has time to wash and style his hair and consider what he’s going to wear tonight. He’s fighting his growing erection while the hot water washes over him, trailing down his body and reminding him of the waterfall. “Snap out of it,” he mutters to himself, trying to fight off the urge to relieve the ache building in his cock. There’s no way he’s doing that right now. He isn’t even sure if you would want to sleep with him tonight, but he’s taking no chances, keeping the electric energy building in his body. All he knows is if you do want to, he wants to try to make it the best you’ve ever had because he has a feeling it’s going to be for him. 

– – –

“You coming, Danny?” Josie asks through the door leading into the hallway. 

“Yeah just a minute!” He double-checks his hair, making sure there are no stray frizzy curls. Thank God for Sam’s girlfriend, Hannah. She taught him how to take care of his curls and gave advice on skincare, not that it was bad before, but Danny does love looking pretty, not just for the girls and guys, but for himself too. It gives him extra confidence. He used to struggle with that much more than he does now, although it’s still there and creeps out sometimes. 

He grabs his room key and heads out to meet Josie. “Wow! You look nice, big brother!” Josie says with a smirk. 

It is one of his favorite outfits. Short-sleeved, fitted, black mock-neck shirt and black skinny jeans with black boots. He’s rocking the Johnny Cash look tonight with his own spin. Deciding to ditch the shark-tooth necklace, he switched to a silver chain, matching the permanent dainty silver bracelet that he, Sam, and his sister got together.  

“Thanks! You too, sis.” 

Josie sports a beautiful blue maxi dress that has a cutout in the back, tied together with a matching string. She has a natural beauty, wearing light make-up and letting her loose curls fall down her back. 

“I know,” she replies with a wink as they turn the corner for the elevators. “You nervous?” 

“Yeah, a little,” Danny confesses, not even trying to deny it. 

“I can tell. You’re practically jumping out of your skin. I take it today went well?” she asks, looking out at the chandelier through the glass elevator. 

“Yeah, really well, actually,” Danny’s face is bright red as he turns away to look at anything that is in the opposite direction of his sister. 

“I’m not going to ask for details,” Josie assures, kindly. 

Thank God. Not that he would have answered, but he already felt awkward enough. Even if she is his best friend, she’s also his sister. He can’t talk to her about certain things the way he talks to Sam and the twins. 

They meet their parents in front of the piano bar and make their way in, getting closer seats this time. Danny wants to see as much of you as possible. 

When you walk out you see him immediately. Well, fuck me sideways-he looks like a dream in that outfit. Not that it would have made much of a difference, but it would have been nice if he could have looked a little more casual. That would make it at least a tiny bit easier to keep your composure. Josie looks beautiful, as well. If Danny wasn’t on this cruise, you have a feeling you may have been feral for her instead. She smiles at you encouragingly while Danny drinks you in-a hungry look in his eyes. God, please stop. You can’t look at him with that gaze on you. 

You settle in at the grand piano and gently place your hands on the keys, grounding yourself. 

“Did everyone have a good time exploring Nassau today?” you ask the audience, this time your cheery expression is completely genuine. You get a cheer and a few “yesses” from the crowd. “Glad to hear it! Well, take some time to relax and unwind from your day while I play a few songs for you.” 

You start upbeat playing “I Feel The Earth Move” by Carole King. Unable to keep your eyes away, you look over at Danny who is beaming and singing along, drumming his fingers lightly on the table again. 

I feel my heart start to trembling

Whenever you’re around

Ooh, baby, when I see your face

Mellow as the month of May

Oh darling, I can’t stand it

When you look at me that way

Josie giggles and grins, glancing over at her brother. She seems like such an amazing sister. A sibling who genuinely loves her brother and wants him to be happy. It makes your heart ache. 

FInishing up the song, you get some cheers and a couple of “whoops” from Danny and Josie, causing you to blush. 

“Let’s slow it down for just a minute, sound good?” you ask the audience. They clap in encouragement as you start the next number. “This one was a request,” you say, not looking over at Danny at that moment. Fraternizing with guests is definitely frowned upon here, and you don’t want to cause any suspicion. 

Daniel is driving tonight on a plane

I can see the red tail lights heading for Spain

Oh and I can see Daniel waving goodbye

Oh it looks like Daniel, must be the clouds in my eyes

Danny’s mom taps his shoulder, looking excited, but oblivious that this song is actually for him. Just a happy coincidence. As you close out the song the audience claps and starts calling out requests. Maybe you shouldn’t have added that little detail. You decide to just go ahead and play requests for the rest of the performance. More Elton John, John Legend, Norah Jones, and a few others. 

“Okay, one more request for the night. What is it gonna be?” 

“Light My Love!” someone calls out immediately. 

“Hmm…who is that by?” you ask. You think you may have heard that title before, but you don’t remember the tune. 

“Greta Van Fleet!” they call out. 

“Okay, let me see if it’s in the book, and if so I’ll play it!”

You flip through the binder of approved songs and find it. Looking over it quickly, you hear the tune in your head. “Okay! We will close out with this one. I’m not entirely sure how the lyrics are sung, so could some of you help me out?” You get some more cheers and feel confident that the audience can cover for you. You start to play and realize how beautiful of a song it is. Why haven’t you heard this before? You’ll need to check out more of their music. You glance over at Danny and see a nervous expression. Why would he be nervous? Maybe because the show is almost over and he feels anxious about being near you again. You know you do. The audience sings along, sounding much better than the audience from your previous performance. Danny’s parents sing along excitedly, apparently loving this song. Danny and Josie seem to be unfamiliar with it, but clearly enjoy the tune. The crowd cheers loudly as you wrap up the song, and you make a mental note to put that one into the rotation. The audience seemed to love it, and you can see why. It’s one of the most beautiful songs you’ve heard. A few people approach you after the performance telling you they loved the show, and give more requests for next time. You graciously thank them and make sure not to let your eyes wander over to Danny until they approach you. 

“Hey! Remember us?” Josie asks, extending her hand. Yeah, she’s a great sister. She knows the drill. 

“Uh, yeah I do! Josie, right?” you reply warmly, shaking her hand. “And you’re..Danny?” you ask as you look over to him, shaking his hand. 

“Yeah! Good to see you again. We had to bring our parents to your performance. We knew they would love it,” he says, gently placing his hand on his mother’s shoulder. 

“We did love it!” she replies with a bright, warm smile. Now you see where Danny and Josie get it from. 

“We really did,” their dad chimed in, shaking your hand. “I’m Dan, and this is my wife Lori.” 

“Wonderful to meet you. I’m y/n,” you reply with a bright, genuine smile. Something you haven’t had to offer lately…until these last few days. 

“Well, we should probably get going for dinner,” Lori says. “It truly was a wonderful performance. Thank you, y/n.” 

“You’re so kind, thank you,” you say, shaking her hand again. She really is very warm and gives off a comforting vibe. 

“Would you all mind if I skip dinner tonight,” Danny asks his parents. “That hike today really wore me out, and I want to make sure I’m not sluggish tomorrow when we go play golf, dad.” 

“Oh yeah, of course honey,” his mother says, stroking his arm. “Go get some rest. We’ll see you for breakfast in the morning.” She leans over and kisses him on the cheek before heading out the door. 

Making sure her parents aren’t looking, Josie turns around and winks before sauntering out of the double doors, joining them. 

“So…you wanna hang out,” Danny asks, his voice impossibly soothing. Like a beautiful song you feel like you’ve been waiting to hear your whole life. 

“I’d love to,” you reply, a little breathless as you beam up at him. Your face falls slightly. “I’m not really sure where we can, though. We can’t be too obvious with this, unfortunately.” 

“Well…how about my room?” he asks, nervously, putting his hands in his pockets as he rocks back on his heels. 

“Yeah, um..that sounds nice. What room are you in? I can meet you there in about twenty minutes or so?” 

“720," he smiles, "Are you hungry?”

“Starving, actually." You didn’t even realize until just now that you haven’t eaten since breakfast. 

“Okay, I’ll order something for us,” he says with that boyish grin that makes you feel like your heart could beat out of your chest. “Is there anything in particular you’d like?” 

“Oh, no. I’ll eat just about anything. You pick.”

“Okay, sounds good. So…I’ll see you in a bit.” He walks backward for a moment, hands still in his pockets before pivoting around to head toward his room. 

“Damn, that ass is adorable,” you mumble to yourself, letting out a puff of air. 

Walking over to the bar you see Chris again, serving the last couple of guests before he walks over to you. 

“Tequila?” he offers, already pouring. 

“Yes, and make it a double.”

He chuckles and slides over your shot. “So, are you gonna hit that tonight, or can I shoot my shot?” 

“Chris!” you whisper loudly. “Shut up!” 

“Oh come on. There’s no one around who can hear us,” he rolls his eyes, crossing his arms, leaning forward on the bar. “So, are you?”

“I don’t know. I want to, but…I’m not sure he does.” You fidget with your hands for a moment. 

Chris pours another shot and holds it out for you. “Here’s some more liquid courage, and trust me, girl. That man was eye-fucking you all night. If you want to go for it, it’s happening. Report back and tell me if he’s as big as I think he is. ” 

“Good lord, Christopher!” you whisper loudly again. You both chuckle and you take the shot, feeling the burn as you shudder. “but I absolutely will.” 

– – –

You head back to your bunk to brush your teeth and run a brush through your hair. Shaking slightly, you throw a couple of condoms in your purse and head up to the 7th floor. Honestly, it’s been months since you’ve slept with someone, and that was a disappointing experience. You desperately hope this won’t be the same way, but you highly doubt that will be the case, especially after that hot as hell make out session earlier. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you say under your breath. “It may not even happen. Just relax.” 

Once you make it to the seventh floor you take a deep breath and step off the elevator. What if he doesn’t want this? Can you even keep from attacking him and climbing his body like the perfectly carved statue he is? 

“Easy, girl. Relax. Relax. Relax,” you repeat over and over before knocking on the door. 

You go weak in the knees when you see him. He doesn’t look any different than he did at the piano bar. Maybe it’s seeing him in the confines of the bedroom, or just knowing you have total privacy. 

“Hey y/n,” he says with that impossibly heart-melting smile. His kind voice is smoother than silk, and you can feel it wash over you like a warm rain on a summer’s day. He extends his arm and steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. 

“Hi, Danny,” you say back, your voice barely above a whisper. That’s all you can muster up at the moment. 

You walk through the door and see a ton of food spread out on the coffee table and counter space where the vanity is. Hozier is playing softly on his phone. 

“Whoa. I know I said I was hungry, but I’m not sure I can eat all of this,” you giggle, walking over to the couch, the fabric feeling slightly scratchy on the back of your thighs. 

Danny lets out that adorable, goofy laugh and your stomach does a flip. How, in God’s name, does this man manage to affect you this way? You’ve never felt anything even remotely like this before. 

“I know, but I just had no idea what to get, and I wanted to make sure I had something that you were in the mood for. Sorry, I know this is a huge waste of food,” he smiles with a guilty look. 

“Oh, it’s okay! Don’t apologize. Maybe we can throw it out to the sharks,” you laugh. 

“My friend Sam would lose his mind if he saw how much we are about to waste.”

“Well, your friend Sam isn’t here, so don’t worry about it. It all looks amazing. Thank you, Danny.” You gaze into his eyes for just a moment before blushing and looking away. If you can’t even look at the man for this long, how is this evening going to go? 

“So…” he begins, that same adorable nervous look that he had at the piano bar on his chiseled face, “what are you in the mood for? Chicken, steak, fish, macaroni and cheese, I think I have some lasagna over here somewhere…” He stands back up and walks over to the countertop. “Ah, yes here it is! What will it be, m’lady?” he offers, placing a cloth napkin over his arm, acting like a waiter at some fancy-pants restaurant. He's clearly trying to break the tension, and you appreciate that. 

You giggle (so so giggly again), “I think I’ll take the steak, kind sir,” you reply with a horrible British accent. 

“As you wish,” he replies, bowing and placing the plate in front of you. He really is a dork. Thank God. “It’s a beautiful night. Do you want to go eat out on the balcony?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” you reply, reaching to pick up your plate. 

“Oh, I’ve got it y/n,” Danny replies with a smile, picking up both of your plates as the two of you make your way through the sliding glass door. 

The moon is full and bright, the water sparkling and glinting with the rise and fall of the little waves that the ship is creating. “Hmm,” you say with a contented little sigh, “he’s right, and I never really thought about it before now.” 

“What’s that?” Danny asks, setting the plates down on the little table between two chairs. 

“Oh, there’s this song by Incubus. Brandon says ‘the ocean looks like a thousand diamonds strewn across a blue blanket.’”

“Wish You Were Here.” Danny gives you a soft smile before looking out at the water with you. “One of my favorites, actually. The lyrics are beautiful. I think the other verse applies too. ‘The sky resembles a back-lit canopy with holes punched in it.’” Quoting Incubus to you. Your stomach doesn’t have butterflies right now, it has pterodactyls.  

You turn and admire him for a moment as he searches the sky, the bright moonlight shining on his face. He looks angelic right now, and you wonder if maybe he is. He holds onto the railing again and leans back, feeling the ocean breeze with a smile as he closes his sparkling hazel eyes. He likes doing that. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes, standing straight and looking over at you. “You’re starving. Let’s eat!” He rubs his hands together and offers your chair before sitting in his. “Oh! Drinks. What sounds good? I got us champagne, white or red wine, and beer.”

You’re already a little tipsy from the shots, so you opt for a glass of champagne. He goes inside to pour two glasses, and you turn your head as little as possible to watch him. The cork pops off of the champagne bottle before he carefully pours it into the glass flutes. How, on God’s green earth (well, God’s blue ocean), does he make pouring drinks look this hot? You wonder if he actually is a waiter at some high-end restaurant, because he could probably bring in a ridiculous amount of money in tips. 

You thank him as he walks back through the sliding door, handing you your drink. You both are silent for a moment as you eat, the sound of the waves and hum of the ship’s engine breaking the awkward tension. 

“So, how long have you been performing?” Danny asks, taking a sip of his champagne. 

“Since I was about four years old, but I've been professionally performing since I got out of college, so three years. I wanted to travel and I wanted to perform, so I figured cruises would be the way to go. What about you? What do you do?” You take a bite of your steak, awaiting his response. 

He takes a bite and another sip before responding. “Oh, well, uh…I’m actually a musician too.” He looks nervous. You wonder why, though? 

“Oh! Seems like we do have quite a bit in common. Are you a singer? Do you play any instruments?” you ask, excited that you can bond over your careers together. 

“I play guitar, drums, bass, piano, mandolin, ukulele, a few others” he chuckles. “Just a little of everything. Nothing major,” he’s staring at his plate, seemingly searching for the best bite of lasagna. 

“Wow! Have you recorded at all? Anything I may have heard before?” 

“Oh, I doubt it. I just play random shows here and there and jump in to play guitar or drums for smaller bands every once in a while. I live in Nashville, so there’s always something to do there.” 

“That’s so cool. I would love to live in Nashville one day. I’m debating on stepping away from the cruise life after my contract is over in a few months. I really want to record an album of my own. I’ve written a few songs, but I would be happy just being a recording artist for hire as well.” 

“Oh, I bet you could get a lot of work there. You’re incredibly talented, and you have a beautiful voice too,” he says, genuinely as he smiles and looks into your eyes. 

You feel a shudder move down your spine as you turn bright red and smile. “Thank you,” you reply, barely above a whisper. You feel confident in your skills as a musician, but hearing it from him makes your heart pound. “So, did you grow up in Nashville?” you ask, moving the conversation along so you can breathe normally. 

“No, I grew up in a small town in Michigan called Frankenmuth,” he breaks eye contact, taking another bite. He could tell he made you nervous by your blush. 

“Oh! I think I’ve heard of that place. It has that big Christmas store, right?” 

“Yeah! I’ve gotten lost in there a few times. It is outlandishly huge,” he laughs that adorable goofy laugh. 

“Ugh, that sounds like a dream. I LOVE Christmas. It’s my favorite time of year on the ship. All of the garland and lights and Christmas trees everywhere. It’s beautiful, and I get to play mostly Christmas carols for my performances.” 

“That sounds wonderful. I love Christmas as well. It’s hard not to love it back at home in our little town. It's like a winter wonderland, plus I always go up to spend a couple of weeks with my family. That’s the best part.”

Your heart aches hearing him talk about his family and see how they interact. “That sounds perfect.” 

He notices the sadness in your eyes, and decides to move on from the topic. “So, where are you from?”

“Also a little town, but in Colorado. Erie. It’s basically a suburb of Boulder, so ‘little town’ is relative,” you chuckle. “Was it a big adjustment? Going from a small town to a big city like Nashville?” 

“Sort of. It was definitely different, but exciting. I moved with a few of my friends, so that made it easier to settle in. We did move right as Covid was spreading around, so having them there really helped a lot through that.”

“Yeah, Covid was tough. I had to move back home for a while with my family until the cruise lines started booking again. It was so boring, but I did get some writing done during that time, so I suppose something good came from it.” You start to feel more comfortable, your nerves settling down. 

“I would love to hear some of your originals. Are you able to play any of them during your performances here?” he asks, setting down his fork and leaning back in his chair. 

“Sometimes. Nothing with lyrics, but I can play the melodies. I usually save those for when I play the lunch shift. Most people just come to relax and chat at the bar during the day. It’s a little more informal.” You set your fork down as well and lean back, matching his posture. “I don’t think I can eat another bite. That was delicious.” 

“Same here,” he says as he glances out to the ocean again. After a moment he leans in, hands clasped with his elbows resting on his knees. “So, y/n, tell me more about yourself.” 

You talk for hours, the conversation flowing organically, both of you sharing stories about your life. Family, friends, hopes and dreams, your favorite movies and musicians. 

“No! You are absolutely wrong!” you argue, trying to look offended through your huge smile you’ve had plastered on your face for hours. 

“I’m not!” he replies, smiling as well, his hand movements exaggerated as he argues his point. “Carole King wrote ‘You’ve Got A Friend’! No one performs it better than her!” He’s so adorable when he’s passionate like this. 

“It’s a beautifully written song, absolutely, and Carole performs it wonderfully, but there’s something about James Taylor’s version that just…makes it better. I think it’s a song that just sounds better on guitar.” 

“This coming from a pianist. I’m appalled!” he laughs. 

“I know. I’m a traitor to my own kind,” you laugh with him. 

“Well, we can agree to disagree on this one. Sound good?” he asks. 

You pretend to ponder the question for a moment, crossing your arms and tapping your finger on your chin. “I suppose so,” you concede with a giggle. 

You’re both silent for a moment, but it’s a comfortable silence. It’s been nice getting to know him more. You feel at peace with him, but somehow also still feel the magnetic pull and electricity coursing through your veins. 

“Do you want to dance?” he asks timidly. 

“Oh, uh…yeah. Yeah that sounds nice,” you smile. “There’s not a lot of room here though.” 

“That’s okay. I don’t mind getting close to you,” he winks, stepping inside to grab his phone. Your stomach flips again, the nervousness creeping back in, but it’s an exciting nervousness. One that you happily welcome. One that makes you feel alive. You feel so alive. 

He steps back out and slides the door open all the way so he can pull in the chairs and small table, leaving the whole little balcony for you to move around on. You step in front of him, flashes of your dip in the swimming hole earlier racing across your mind. You have to glance away at the ocean for a moment to pull yourself out of it, tearing your eyes away from his body. Damn, he smells amazing too. Kind of musky and warm. Almost like the mahogany teakwood candle from Bath and Body Works. Your favorite. His scent mixed with the ocean air makes you a little dizzy, your eyes fluttering. 

He turns on “Like Real People Do” and sets the phone on the table, just inside of the room past the balcony. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, nervously putting his hands in his pockets again. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s perfect.” Your voice is breathy and you smile at him, no doubt looking like a smitten little school girl. He slowly approaches you, holding one hand up and placing the other on your hip. You gently place your hand in his and rest the other on his shoulder, swaying to the music. 

“I’m actually not much of a dancer, but it just seems like a perfect night for it, don’t you think?”

The bright white smile he flashes makes it hard to respond, but you manage to breathe out a “yes.” 

After a minute or so he moves his hand around your waist, and pulls the other to his chest. You can feel his heartbeat against your fingers. You lean in and rest your head on his chest so you can hear the steady rhythm of it, closing your eyes. He’s so warm, so sturdy, so…safe. 

“So, you’re a big Hozier fan, huh?” you ask. 

“Oh yeah. He’s one of my musical idols. One of the greats,” he replies, his voice smooth and soft. Like a blanket of silk gently caressing your skin. You hear the deep rumble in his chest with each word, sending a vibration through your whole body and you falter, missing a step. 

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble, pulling back again. 

“No, it’s okay,” he urges, pulling you close to him again, this time one of his hands cups your cheek, the other wraps around your waist again. “You know…I…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I saw you performing that first night.” 

You let out a slow, shaky breath, placing both of your hands on his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing keeping you calm. “I’m glad I’m not the only one.” You sigh out a little chuckle and gaze into his eyes. You feel so safe with him in this moment. 

He leans in and moves his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck. His fingers are calloused, but soft, and you realize just how big they are as he cradles your head. “Can I kiss you?” he whispers again, just like he did under the waterfall. 

“Absolutely,” you reply, your voice a little louder and more eager than you expected. 

He smirks and leans in further, closing the gap. You whimper the moment his lips touch yours, and you feel him smile into the kiss. He’s so tender and gentle that it makes your heart ache, but you need so much more. His kiss unleashes something in you that you didn’t realize was aching to get out. 

Pulling back, and somehow already out of breath, you ask, “Earlier today, when you said you didn’t know if you would be able to stop, is that…something you wanted to do?”

“What, stop? Or not stop?” he chuckles. 

“I suppose you could answer either way, but to be clearer,” you bite your lip nervously, “at what point do you, uh…want to stop tonight? Because I…I’m okay, y’know with…not stopping.” God, you’re so nervous, but you need to know right now before you lose all control. 

He leans in again, brushing his lips along your cheek until he reaches your ear. “I don’t want to stop, y/n. Not at all.” His voice in your ear is so much sexier than you imagined (dozens of times over the course of three days, if you’re honest), and you can’t help yourself. You whimper and run one hand up his back until you reach his hair, gripping it tightly. Your other hand practically claws at his shoulder, pulling on his shirt as you crash your lips into his. Your lips lock together perfectly, just like before, but with more desire behind it. He pulls your hips flush with his, digging his fingers in ever so slightly. You feel every bit of it though, and you start to unravel even more. He begins to match your intensity and groans as you softly bite and suck on his bottom lip. 

“Please touch me Danny,” you beg in the most pathetic whimper. You would be embarrassed, but you are so desperate to feel more of him that you don’t care. 

“Yes ma’am,” he groans into your mouth, barely able to pull himself away.

He runs his hands up your hips and back, memorizing every curve. Once he reaches the zipper at the top, he pulls it down at a frustratingly slow pace. You whimper again, begging him without words while you slide your hands underneath his skin tight black shirt. The ripples of his muscles on his back and shoulders, causing your panties to dampen even more.

“God, please Danny,” you whine, frantically reaching behind your back to yank the zipper down further. 

“Shhh, pretty girl. Just let me savor you for a while. Please?” His voice is impossibly soft and sexy, instantly calming you down as you catch your breath. 

“I’m so sorry,” you say, pulling away again, shaking yourself out of this feral trance he has you under. 

He gently grasps your arms and pulls you close again, cupping your cheek and kissing you slow and deep. You don’t understand…how is this kiss even hotter, but making you more calm? 

“We’re going to get there, okay?” he assures, as he moves his lips down to your neck, barely brushing them over your flushed skin. “I promise,” he whispers, moving up to your ear. 

You nod, unable to speak as you feel his teeth graze the soft skin of your earlobe before giving it a gentle kiss. You melt into him, your head lolling off to the side and your eyes fluttering. He kisses that sweet spot right behind your ear and works his way back down your neck, licking and sucking every inch. Finally, he pulls down your zipper the rest of the way, stopping at your tailbone. He pulls back and slides the straps off your shoulders, peeling the dress down and off your body as he drinks in the shape of you. He saw this much of you earlier, but now his eyes are dark and he looks fucking hungry. Kneeling down in front of you, he helps you step out of the dress, probably worried your knees would buckle and you’d fall over based on how badly you’re trembling right now. 

“Are these heels bothering you?” he asks, glancing up at you with sweet, innocent eyes, the sight of him kneeling before you causing your mind to race with all sorts of unholy thoughts. The switch from his predatory stare to this almost submissive one is giving you whiplash, and you wonder…how easily could he switch in bed? 

“Easy girl,” you whisper to yourself, quiet enough so the sound of the waves keeps him from hearing. 

“Yeah, actually they are.” You didn’t even realize until he asked. His fingers are long and calloused, but nimble. Quickly undoing the clasp of your strappy, black heel, he holds your ankle steady and carefully pulls the shoe off, worried your feet may be sore. Such a gentleman, and it feels incredibly intimate. He repeats his actions with the other foot and stands back up, towering over you more than before with the loss of three inches of height you had. He reaches out to caress down your shoulders and arms with the backs of his fingers, goosebumps creeping up the path he’s taken. 

“You are…” he starts, as he takes his time looking at every inch of you, “absolutely breathtaking.” 

Your heart catches in your chest at the tenderness and sincerity of his words. You know what it sounds like when a man is just trying to get you in bed. This was not that. He meant it. He was almost worshiping you. 

He steps forward and places his hands on your collar bones, covering your entire chest as he gives you the sweetest, slow kiss you’ve ever felt. You whimper as you feel his hands move down to your bra, cupping your breasts and running his thumbs over your nipples that are peeking out of the sheer, black fabric. You shiver and arch your back, aching to feel more. 

“Are you cold?” he asks. 

“Definitely not." Your entire body is on fire right now. 

He smirks and bites his lip as he pulls his shirt off in one swift motion, tossing it on the ground. You drink him in, aching to feel his skin against yours. Reaching around, you unclasp your bra and let it fall to the floor. The fabric wasn’t hiding much, but you feel very exposed just standing in front of him like this. You step forward and place your hands on his lower abdomen, running the backs of your fingers along the soft trail of dark hair leading down into his pants. He sighs when you run your hands along the muscles of his back, torso, and shoulders, exploring him. 

“Come here,” he whispers, pulling you in at your waist, cupping the back of your neck. His hands are large enough to reach around and place his thumb under your jaw, gently pressing upward to meet his lips. This kiss is deep, hungry, passionate. Whimpers escape from the two of you as you reach around to grab his ass, pressing him into you, and he slides his hand down your chest settling between your breasts. He walks you backward, until your back is up against the railing, the top bar hitting your shoulder blades. Breaking your kiss, he moves his mouth down your chest, over your breasts again, licking and sucking as you bury your hands in his hair, arching into his mouth. He groans in appreciation and continues his journey down your stomach, alternating between kisses and licks until he gets to your belly button. He runs his lips over to your hip bone and softly bites, causing you to gasp and jump in surprise. Glancing up at you with mischievous eyes, he kitten licks the spot. Keeping eye contact, he glides his tongue along the waistband of your panties, teasing you. You reach to pull them down, but he grabs your wrists, pinning them to your sides. “Not yet, pretty girl.” 

You whimper and fight against his strong grasp, knowing it’s futile, but unable to stop yourself. His eyes darken and he bites the same spot on your hip, but harder this time, causing you to yelp. “I said not yet, y/n.” 

Oh. Oh. You debate on fighting back again just to see what he would do next, but he stops your train of thought when he starts to run his perfectly angled nose up the inside of your thigh. You relax your arms and your head falls back, eyes fluttering as you look up at the sky. The moon and stars witness to the pure ecstasy you’re already feeling. Danny reaches your core and runs his nose up your embarrassingly wet panties, his tongue following suit. You struggle against his grip on your wrists again, but he doesn’t punish you this time. He just brings both hands to rest on your stomach, and holds them in place with one of his, while he moves the other to pull your panties to the side. He taunts you agonizingly by kissing the creases between your thighs and your lips, your clit already aching and swollen. He chuckles darkly when you move your pelvis forward trying to meet his mouth. 

“God, Danny please,” you beg, pathetically. 

“So eager, aren’t we?” He kisses the inside of your thigh again, but lower this time, making you whine. Your mind is reeling over the difference between the Danny you made out with under the waterfall and this Danny, somehow dominating you while you are towering over him. You relax again, brow furrowed and whimpering. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praises. He offers sweet relief finally as he presses his tongue through your folds, gliding it upward and flicking it over your clit. 

“Fuucckkk yes,” you moan. You’re dying to break free from his grasp so you can touch him, or even just touch yourself. Touch something, but you don’t want him to stop, so you endure it. He dips his tongue deeper inside of you, dragging out the juices and spreading them over your clit, flicking his tongue faster before flattening it and shaking his head back and forth furiously. Your legs start to shake and you can already feel your orgasm building ridiculously fast. 

“Please, Danny,” you whimper. “Please, not yet.” 

“Why not?” he sounds genuinely curious, but still looks so fucking dark and mischevious-slmost devilish. 

“Be-becuase I can’t…I can’t cum more than once,” you reply, nervously. All of the other women you know can have multiples, but you’ve just never been able to. 

“Yes you can,” he says matter-of-factly before diving back in, devouring you. 

“OH God! N-no no I can’t. R-really…please please stop. I’m begging you, Danny!” 

Oh he fucking loved that, but he stops, being the gentleman that he is. Standing up to meet your face, he gazes into your eyes, his lips glistening with your juices, looking so fucking enticing. “Y/n, I promise I can make it happen. Will you please let me?” His expression softened and you feel so safe again.

“Y-yeah…can’t hurt to try I guess,” you reply with a weak chuckle. 

“Do you trust me?” His dark eyes sparkle in the moonlight and your heart melts. You would let him do just about anything right now, so I suppose that means yeah. You trust him. 

“I do,” you whisper. He kisses you so lightly you wouldn’t even be sure it actually happened if it weren’t for the tiny string of your wetness connecting your bottom lip to his as he pulls away. Kneeling back down, he throws one of your legs over his shoulder and releases your hands. They immediately dive into his hair as he sinks his middle finger into you and grazes his lips over your clit. You’re panting and whimpering at this point, gazing down at his work, his soft curls tickling the insides of your thighs. You moan as he slips in another finger, curling them upward, stroking your g-spot infuriatingly slow, barely flicking his tongue over your throbbing clit. You’re trying to savor the moment and remember every detail, but your body is screaming for more. A sob releases from deep in your chest, launching him into action. 

“You’re doing so well, pretty girl, letting me take you there. Thank you,” he praises. 

Wow. You’ve never had a man, or a woman, thank you for letting them give you brutal ecstasy, but then again, you’ve never had anyone come close to how he makes you feel. Maybe you actually are the one in control here. 

“Do you trust me?” he asks again, sincerity and concern in his eyes. He’s double-checking to make sure you feel safe, and it is possibly the sexiest thing he’s done all night. 

“Absolutely.” 

He slowly pulls his fingers out of you, causing a whimper to escape from your throat, but he stays in place, keeping your knee over his shoulder. He places your other leg over his opposite shoulder, causing your body to raise a few inches, the center of your back now at the top of the railing. Your eyes go wide and you grip onto his arms for dear life. He has a vice grip on your thighs, though, and you know those muscles that are flexing in the moonlight aren’t going to let you go anywhere. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, gauging your reaction to this position, and stays still until you nod your head softly. This time, he dives in hard and fast, mercilessly sucking and licking your clit. You cry out and throw your head back, your whole upper back falling over the railing. You can see the ocean with your head tipped all the way back, your chest heaving and glowing in the moonlight. The power and intensity of the ocean matches the way Danny is making you feel deep in your core. You can feel that coil tightening inside you as your orgasm builds. God, you feel fucking alive. Throwing all caution to the wind, you let your arms fall back, feeling the wind between your fingers before clenching your fists, your orgasm so close. 

“I’m gonna cum, Danny! Oh-oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cry out as your entire body shakes around him. His tongue continues to lash mercilessly inside of you and you bury your hands in his curls, holding him as tightly to you as possible. You can hear how wet you are over the ocean's waves until suddenly you can’t hear anything at all. Everything goes silent as you gaze at the moon until it goes dark. 

– – –

Danny is holding you in his arms, stepping through the doorway as you come to. You hear Hozier playing in the background, and it takes you a moment to realize where you are, but once you do you feel immediately embarrassed. “Oh my God. I am so so sorry,” you say, turning bright red as you try to escape his embrace. 

“Will you stop that?” he asks with a chuckle. “Why do you keep apologizing? Do you know how fucking amazing that was for me?!” 

“For you?!” you ask, incredulously, unable to stifle the laugh bubbling up from your chest. 

“Hell yes! I thought I was going to cum just watching you. That was the sexiest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life!”

His boyish look of shock and bright smile on his face has you reeling. There’s no way this adorable 25 year old boy is the same angel (or possibly) devil that sent you over the edge just a moment ago, in more ways than one. 

He lays you down on his bed and hovers over you, his elbows just above your shoulders as he cradles the crown of your head. His face is so angelic right now as he admires you. You lean up and kiss that little freckle just beneath his eye like you wanted to earlier that day. He chuckles and sweeps a piece of hair off your forehead, leaning down to kiss your cheeks and nose. 

“So…how are you feeling?” he asks knowingly with a smirk, causing you to giggle. 

“Pretty fucking good,” you reply, running your hands down his back, stopping at his rock hard ass and pressing down so you can feel his throbbing cock between your legs. Your eyes widen when you feel how thick he is causing him to blush and turn red. “Okay, your turn now,” you say eagerly, pressing him up and off of you. 

“Wait! Just…hold on,” he says softly, laying you back down as he settles in next to you. “There’s no rush.” 

“You sure about that,” you giggle nervously as you glance down at his rock-hard cock aching to get out of his tight jeans. 

“I meant what I said earlier, and I won’t break a promise.” He leans in to softly place his hand on your throat, his thumb barely pressing on your pulse point. “I’m going to make you cum again, and I would like it if we could do it together, so just be here with me, okay?” 

You’re melting under his touch and his gaze right now. You’ve actually never felt so desperate to get someone off in your life, you're practically salivating for him, but he kisses you deeply again, and you relax and sigh into his mouth, so content to just stay there for hours. He pulls you on top of him, but with no urgency. Just to reposition and savor you some more. His hands lazily run up and down your back and hips, every so often moving to your shoulders and collar bones. You don’t know how long the two of you stayed that way. Just contentedly tasting and feeling one another. You move off of him to lay by his side and slowly slide your hand down his stomach. Once you reach the waistband of his jeans you glance at him to make sure he is okay if you keep going. He nods and bites his lip as you sit up and undo the button of his jeans, shoving them down with his boxer briefs just enough for his cock to spring free. You can see how painfully hard he is right now, the soft tip of his cock purple and dripping with pre-cum. The sight of it turns you on and you feel a rush of heat in your core. Leaning over, you kiss him hard and fast as you slide your hand down to grasp his length, rubbing your thumb over the tip. He groans and holds your hand still, his brow furrowing. “No, not yet.” 

“Yes, Danny. Now. I need to feel you inside of me right now. Please make me cum again. Please.” you beg, in between kisses that you can barely tear yourself away from. 

He lets out an animalistic sort of grunt and flips you over on your back, hovering over you again. “You sure you’re ready?” he checks, his eyes going back and forth between yours, searching for the answer. 

“Yes, I’m fucking ready. Please I have to feel you,” you whine, gripping at his back and shoulders, trying to pull him down on top of you. 

“How do you want me?” 

“What?” you ask, confused. You just want him to feel good right now. You don’t care. 

“I said, how do you want me? What makes you feel the best? Tell me and I’ll do it. Trust me, I’m going to get off either way, but I’m not sure exactly how long I can last, so tell me. How do you want me?” 

His voice is so steady and sure. You’d never know how badly he is aching for release. You gently press him up and off of you again and silently move to the end of the bed, bending over and resting your elbows on the mattress. “Like this,” you say, as steadily as possible, gazing into his eyes. He jumps up and quickly pulls off his pants and underwear the rest of the way before walking over to his toiletry bag, pulling out a condom. You can hear him tear the wrapper and slide it on as he moves to stand behind you. You brace yourself, preparing for the stretch, but all you feel is a soft kiss on your shoulder and a gentle hand resting on the small of your back. 

“Are you ready?” he whispers in your ear. You grind your ass against him in response. He lines himself up and slowly sinks into you, both of you moaning in response. Fuck. Yeah, it is definitely a stretch, but you are craving his release even more than yours, so you immediately start moving back against him, but he grips your hips tightly, holding you steady. His breathing is uneven and you realize he’s trying to keep it together and last long enough for you to cum. 

“Fuck, you feel so much better than I even imagined,” he mutters under his breath and you smile to yourself, loving the way you’re making him feel. He slowly thrusts into you at a steady pace. You let him take the reins for a bit, until he starts to move faster. You match his pace and bounce back onto him, your bodies slapping together, the obscene sounds of his dick fucking into you filling the room. His whimpers and moans are the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. Better than any song ever written. You can tell he’s getting close when his rhythm falters slightly and he reaches around to circle your clit, trying to coax another orgasm out of you. Your eyes widen in shock as you feel that coil again, tightening with each thrust, each circle of his finger. Your legs start to shake and you whimper and moan, matching his beautiful song.

“Danny, I-I think..I think I’m…” you try to speak between labored breaths, but you’re almost in shock at how quickly you’re about to get there. 

“I know,” he says, his voice deep and raspy. “I can feel it.” He grits his teeth and closes his eyes, brows furrowed as he digs his fingers into your hip. His hand on your clit is starting to falter, so you replace his with yours. He grips your shoulder, pushing you back onto him hard and fast. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He repeats over and over, his voice getting higher with each word before his whimpers take over. 

That does it. His pitiful whimpers and moans send you over the edge, and you cry out his name with choked out moans as you bury your face in the sheets, gripping them until your knuckles turn white. He falls down on top of you, breathing heavily on your back, drops of sweat dripping from his brow onto your shoulder. You don’t know how long you two stayed that way, slowly steading your breathing together, unable to move as he softens inside of you. After a while he pulls out of you gently, walking to the bathroom. He comes back out a moment later with a wet washcloth, offering it to you before stepping away again. You clean yourself up, shocked at how much of a mess there is even with him wearing a condom. Standing up, you head over to the balcony to gather your clothes before heading out.  

“Are you leaving?” he asks, walking up to you and handing you a glass of water. 

“Oh, well…I just thought-” you start. 

“Stay. Please?” You get lost in his eyes for a moment, so enamored with him your heart aches as he grazes his knuckles along your cheek.

“Okay, yeah. I’d love to stay,” you smile sweetly. 

You both lay back down in bed, the door to the balcony still open and the moonlight shining in after Danny turns the lamp off. You turn onto your side and he spoons you, reaching around to hold your hands against your chest. 

“Thank you, Danny,” you whisper, feeling a little silly, but vulnerable at the moment. He thanked you, right? 

“Oh, sweet girl. Trust me, the pleasure was all mine.”

He kisses your ear and within seconds the waves and rocking of the ship lull you off to sleep.

I hope you guys liked it! Chapter 4 may take a bit longer, but I'm so eager to continue with this story!

@dazeebean @spark-my-nature @smoking-jakelane @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface @geekgirlinthegreen

[skellys-selfships]

i've got a new crush and need to feed the fellow shark simps-

Chazwick Thurman x Reader relationship hc's (suggestive themes etc)

• Chaz is definitely the first one to make a move on you, he's not subtle about his feelings even if he tried to be

• PDA is his THING, he's gonna let everyone know that you're his, he's not letting go of your hand, he'll be kissing your forehead, cheeks, and hands at any chance he gets, sometimes reaching around to give your rear a playful slap

• he has zero shame, sometimes he'll be at your door in the dead of night in attempts to "serenade" you.....with the most sexually charged songs he could think of. the entire neighborhood hears it. good luck :)

• his lack of shame + undefeatable confidence rubs off on you in ways you never knew you needed

• don't be too hard yourself, you're his babe and he wouldn't choose less than perfect

• he's extremely funny and loud, what most see as obnoxious, makes you right at home with your own immature sense of humor, let loose, he enjoys it

• if you're goth?? if you're good at video games? he's DEFINITELY showing you off to all his social media followers because that's a win in his book, he goes nuts for the goths

• please let him win if you ever play video games with him, he's an ugly crier

• he takes fucking hours styling his hair every morning, he takes his hair very seriously

• he really wants to style your hair, especially if yours is longer or messy, he really could've been a hairdresser....

• he cannot fathom ever shutting up and really appreciates your patience, not that he openly says it, but he shows his appreciation in different ways ;) if you can keep up with how much he talks, he feels very special

• it's hard for him to take NO for an answer and is a massive baby if you deny him anything but quite frankly, it's adorable

• he's not the brightest bulb so be understanding he doesn't really pick up on big words or more technical things

• he really loves taking you out, especially to clubs and movies

• his biggest weakness is praise, if you compliment his hair or his tail in any way, he's all over you in an instant

• his tail is where he likes to cuddle with you the most after your guys' "fun time", his tail is strong and very smooth, wrapping it around you and holding you close becomes normal behavior quite quickly

• he snores and talks in his sleep a lot. A REAL LOT, but most of what he says is about you

• he hypes up how sexy his "battle scars" a lot but in reality he hates his scars, it means a lot when you reassure him that they look hot, or you kiss the scar on his face

• he assigns you MANY nicknames, the usual cutesy petnames and some....many could cringe at

• 1000% the type of man to call you his little "discord kitten" 💀💀💀

• he unashamedly will send you tik toks of him dancing to really cheesy love songs

• if he sees you wearing his clothes he's instantly all worked up, you look great in his clothes

• you may touch his hair.....but don't mess it up, if you do he pouts like a lost puppy

• he sings you all your favorite songs any time he has the chance

• don't call your parents in the same room as him, he'll walk up behind you and start making the loudest sexual noises right near the phone and burst out laughing his ass off

• he praises you from beginning to end, you're his pride and he sees the two of you as unstoppable

• his attention span his short, if you're trying to include him in your interests and he zones out, he's not uninterested at all, he just loses focus easily

• he cries really loud and messy at any kinda sad part of any movie you guys watch together, even if it's cheesy

• he buys you so many gifts, cute clothes especially, he loves spoiling his babe

• he has his moments of trying to be romantic but usually interrupts it with a really bad one liner

enjoy shark lovers <3 i'm trying to get back into writing and this himbo is FUELING ME

[ymaohoh]

Yankee Candle Baby - Fic

Eddie wants to buy something nice for Chrissy. Candles are romantic, right?  Oneshot (See at the end for notes)

Word count: 3,730

Chapter: 1/1.

No trigger warnings. No real plot. Just fluff and lust. 

Also on Archive of Our Own.

--

Oh yeah. He was most definitely out of his comfort zone. He was so far out of the zone that he felt like he was standing on a sinking ship surrounded by menacing hungry sharks. 

The mall. The fucking mall. On this perfectly fine Saturday he was here of all places. 

The small town of Hawkins boasted exactly one mall which meant it was unfortunately one of the busier places to be at the weekends, though at this precise time of the day he was thankful to see most of the shoppers were old folks, and noisy kids. His peers (and he used this term very loosely) would likely show up later when it was time to…God knows…go to the movies? Get a burger? Hit the arcade? Whatever it was the average American teenager did at the weekend with their friends or dates. As if he gave a flying fuck. 

No, he hoped he wouldn’t run into anyone he knew. Not because he cared about their opinion - he was Eddie Munson, after all, have you met him? - but because he wanted to get this over and done with as quickly as humanly possible. He was on a secret D&D quest with one singular (but important) purpose...and as soon as he found his holy grail he would race back to his beat-up van and get the hell out of here. 

His leather boots scuffed on the linoleum floor (decorated with some bright nonsense pattern) as he walked forwards reluctantly into what he considered the jaws of hell. Eddie was not typically a morning person and it seemed too early in the day for the overly bright lights that lined the walls or the music blasting out of stores that he could only assume people who hung here found ‘cool’ and ‘trendy’. He ignored the posters that lined the windows advertising whatever shit was for sale inside and kept his eyes open for one specific store. 

Harrington said it would be right at the end of the first floor by the food court…and here…finally. Here it was. The walls to the store were painted bubblegum pink and unsurprisingly the patrons inside were all teenage girls wearing pastels and preppy makeup. 

Hell was apparently the cover of Teen Beat or Just Seventeen, the magazines that he often found rolled up in this van nowadays. 

Eddie looked at the bright and cheery store in question with something akin to repulsion (could he seriously hear Robert Palmer being played on the stereo behind the counter?) before taking a deep breath and plummeting inside before he could change his mind. 

Addicted to love? Apparently he fucking was because it was the only reason he was here. The only reason he’d step inside a capitalist cesspit that was so intense and cheery and uncomfortable to him. The object of said addiction? 

A tiny cheerleader who looked at him like he was her God-damned hero. 

Chrissy was everything to him, even though they’d only technically been a couple  (or ‘going steady’ as she reminded him) for a month now. Honestly? It felt longer. It felt like she’d always been a part of his life from the moment he first laid eyes on her neat strawberry-blonde ponytail. If you asked him if he could remember a time before her he’d draw a blank. He’d had a life without her, sure, but damn if he could remember much about it. He didn’t really want to. She’d woken him up like he was Snow White and she was the prince and life was now all singing cartoon birds, rainbows and sunsets. She was like the fucking sun itself. 

Best of all? She was his. All his. They navigated through the highschool gossip, the stares, the outright rude comments that made him want to ball his fists like how the hell did that loser pull someone like her? Is she crazy? To be fair, it wasn’t a stupid question. He’d asked himself the same thing over and over. They’d laughed when hearing the suggestions of blackmail and magic and he’d fallen a bit in love with her when she admitted there could be magic at play. 

If he thought it would make her smile (and seriously her smile always had the power to totally pierce through his chest like an arrow) then he would most gladly step into whatever hellish landscape needed. He’d move mountains for her. Battle demons. All that cliche romantic stuff. 

Shit, he couldn’t wait to see her smile again. Maybe he was addicted. 

Later on today she was coming to his trailer and they’d be all alone as his uncle was working a night shift at the plant. They’d arranged it so casually yesterday when he drove her home from school - ‘I’ll be there after I finish my chem homework, okay? Maybe six…seven?’ ‘Sure thing. Come round whenever’ - but despite the casual tone he really wanted to do something extra nice for her. He had an idea about making her dinner and setting it up all fancy on the table with the forks and spoons and whatever lined up in the so-called right places. Hell, he’d even bought some wine for them both and Harrington said it was a good bottle (for under $5).

He wouldn’t call Harrington a friend exactly, but he wasn’t a stranger either. He was also one of the only guys he sort of hung around with who actually had experience with women. Eddie would die if any of the kids found out about this (though really they knew how soft Eddie was for Chrissy. It was almost nauseating to be in the same room as them). Harrington has also recommended getting candles. 

Girl’s love them, he’d said confidently. He’d pieced everything together immediately when he ran into Eddie at the store buying fancy healthy ingredients and wine. Eddie was a beer guy usually - wine had to only mean he was trying to impress someone. Trust me, man. There’s a new place in the mall that all the girls talk about. Sounds seriously lame but if you’re going with Chrissy the queen Cunningham then you better up your game. No offense.  

So here he was. Like he said, he’d do anything for Chrissy. Even if it meant stepping out of his comfort zone and doing something different. 

Just like when she surprised him last Tuesday by showing up at The Hideout to hear his band for the first time. She’d looked so out of place in her floral dress beside the regulars who stuck to black and ripped denim as a rule, but she’d cheered loudly (his own personal cheerleader) and it made him feel like the luckiest son of a bitch in the world. She really was a fucking gem. 

“Hi. Can I help you?”

A friendly voice came out of nowhere and he looked up to see a salesgirl eyeing him curiously. He couldn’t blame her for looking at him in that way. Next to the other customers he stood out like a sore thumb in his jeans and leather jacket. Still, he had a reputation of bravado to uphold and he wasn’t the kind of shitty person who was rude to staff. Her name badge said ‘Becky’ in a tiny purple font. She looked to be around Chrissy’s age. 

Becky, you’re going to be my best friend right now. 

“You sure can. Candles? Word on the street is you sell them.”

She smiled and led him to the back of the store past all the scented bath crap, the bright cushions with tassels, the art-deco type figurines, and other trendy kitschy items that teenage girls seemed to adore having in their bedrooms. She led him to a counter at the back which was full of the promised candles. Several heads turned in surprise as he moved around but they soon went back to whatever little item that so fascinated them. 

Ah shit. 

“This is the only brand we sell as it’s the most popular. Is there one you have specifically in mind or do you need help picking one out?”

She was assuming he’d been sent here by his girlfriend (or sister or mom) to collect something on their behalf because they were tied up somewhere else. In which case he’d know exactly what it was he needed. How many boyfriends (or brothers or dads) had been in the same pitiful position as he was now? Becky probably spotted it right away which is why she was being so helpful. Golden star for Becky, he thought. 

(He did love the term boyfriend though. Chrissy’s boyfriend. Chrissy’s boyfriend who would run errands for her. Ah, bliss). 

He fixed her with a smile, saying honestly… “I haven’t got a clue, Becky. Honestly. I’m just trying to find something nice for my girlfriend.”

(His girlfriend. His girlfriend Chrissy. The person who braided his favourite bandana into her hair, marking her as such). 

“Well that’s adorable,” Becky commented. The smile she wore now seemed far more genuine. “In that case let me help. What does your girlfriend use them for? Reading? Putting on during a bath? General ambience?”

Dude. Do not think of Chrissy in a bath. Not Chrissy in a bath wet with water and soap and…

“I’m fixing her dinner tonight,” he explained, turning to more pure and wholesome thoughts. “So something for that? I thought it might look…nice?”

This was hell. Absolute hell. 

Still, two girls who were standing by all the bath crap nearby let out little sighs at his stilted phrasing. Becky looked pretty impressed too. Wow, was he nailing this? And was it just him or did his voice get softer when he spoke about anything to do with Chrissy? 

“I’d go with a pillar candle then, for sure. You can place it in the middle of the table,” Becky suggested. She waved towards the right side of the display. “What’s her favourite smell?”

“Uh…well, she likes loads of things…”

And this was the trickiest bit. He didn’t know. Chrissy liked all sorts of smells and tastes. He’d noticed her happy sigh when she smelled the football field after the grass was freshly cut, and she said she liked the smell of ‘new books’. How could they make candles out of that? 

“I see. Well, maybe test some? See which ones remind you the most of her. I need to go and help that customer over there, but I’ll be by the counter if you need anything else, okay?”

“Sure…thanks.”

This wasn’t going to be so quick and easy as he’d hoped. 

Who the hell needed so many candles? Why were there so many sizes? What the hell was Home for Holidays? He managed to stifle a sigh. He focused on the taller candles to the right where Becky had waved, agreeing that they were probably best suited for his purpose (and would last longer - you know, if he and Chrissy forgot all about them in a daze of frantic making out). Wait - was his home at serious risk of burning down tonight? 

It was a herculean effort to drag his mind away from Chrissy’s spectacular lips and back to the mission at hand. Really. He should be awarded some prize for this. 

Right. Maybe focus on scent like Becky said? That was the whole point of candles now the lightbulb made them otherwise obsolete, right? He scanned the labels. What smell would Chrissy like? 

Using his keen powers of logic and intellect (sharpened recently with Chrissy’s tutorage) he noted that the candles seemed to be arranged in a specific order. The ones on the top shelf sounded like flowery ones. 

Lavender? French Lavender? Lilac Blossoms? Lily of the Valley? He held the latter up to his nose but yanked it away quickly. No way. It smelled like something his grandmother would buy. From what very limited information Chrissy offered about her batshit family they seemed to uphold ‘good old-fashioned conservative values’ like most of middle America and Chrissy herself unknowingly still toed some traditional ideals (though she’d hate any comparison to her crusty bitch of a mother). For example, she was the one who wanted to ‘go steady’ and go on ‘dates’. She also made them wait for date three before…well, what she would very cutely describe as ‘PG stuff’ stuff. As for Eddie? Hell, from day one he’d wanted to throw her over his shoulder cave man style and fuck her on the floor of his van (where she’d first gloriously uttered the perfect words ‘yes, Eddie, I like like you too’) . 

Floral smells seemed to go hand in hand with those traditional ideals…yet Chrissy was showing day by day she didn’t want to be held back by that crap any longer. It started with baby steps - hell, dating him a biggie - but who knew what the future held? Chrissie wanted to go to college after graduation and instead of writing ‘baby-maker extraordinaire’ on her applications (as her family wanted) she confessed to wanting more. Maybe teaching? Maybe social work? She had the brains, for sure. His Chrissy was a Fourth of July sparkler, burning bright and sparkling. She could be whatever she wanted to be. She could have both a career and a family if she wanted because she admitted she did like kids (though the idea of Chrissy holding another little Chrissy in her arms made him feel things he never thought possible). With a fond smile he placed the candle back and moved along. 

White fig, Sicilian Lemon, Sea Salt and Sage, Sage and Citrus, Olive and Thyme. The next shelf seemed to hold the candles that smelled like food. Which was bizarre when he really thought about it. He sampled them each. After all, he was buying a candle to go with dinner so didn’t it make sense for it to be food related? 

He quite liked the citrus smell but he smiled when he saw the label for Thyme. He thought about the first time (ha) they’d cooked together at his trailer a few weeks back, back before they were dating. They’d still been at that bullshit flirty-but-not stage, both too scared of admitting their real feelings in case they ruined the tentative and unexpected friendship they both secretly cherished. Dinner hadn’t been anything special - they’d been hanging out watching a movie with accidental (or not in his case) brushing of limbs and secret glances to her legs (she’d been wearing her cheerleader skirt, for crying out loud - he was not made of stone) - when they’d grown hungry and started fixing some pasta. Chrissy had been awkward when it came to food back then and it was something he’d picked up on right away. She would always make excuses not to eat in front of him but her growling stomach had on this occasion betrayed her big time. He’d heated up the pasta and asked her to pass the thyme to stir into the tomato sauce and she’d eventually admitted to not having a clue what that herb was. He’d been so careful to show not even the teensiest amount of surprise in his eyes, and instead patiently showed her how to use it in cooking. It was apparent that Chrissy only ate the same things day after day and it was all bland and unseasoned. 

Less calories, right? 

Since then she’d come along leaps and bounds with her eating, though it was still something present in the back of her mind like a cobweb they couldn’t quite dust away. Though he worried about the future - what would his dumbass do while Chrissy excelled? - one thing he knew for certain was right after graduation (maybe while still wearing those dorky robes) he would bundle Chrissy into his van and drive her far away from the influence of her asshole mother. If she let him he would dedicate his life to feeding and caring for her like she deserved. He hoped she’d be game. 

He looked away from this shelf. They still had some work to do in this area. 

He liked Candy Cane Lane, Cranberry Twist, French Vanilla, Pink Grapefruit…He smelled them appreciatively even though they were very sickly sweet. He liked his coffee black but he knew Chrissy preferred hers laden with sugar and cream (now she actually let herself indulge more). 

Chrissy was sweetness personified in human form really. All sweet smiles and warm skin and caresses. She was popular for her looks, her kindness, her cheery nature. She also had the glorious ability to look past the dark parts of life (and in people) and see the goodness and the light. It was a trait that Eddie simply didn’t have and he marvelled whenever he was privileged enough to see it swell inside her. No matter how many times life seemed to try and beat it out of her, Chrissy was a God-damned angel who got right back on her feet and was unapologetically kind and sweet and dazzling. Eddie knew he would do anything in his power to keep that flame inside of her bright and fucking destroy anyone who tried to take advantage or smother it. 

(Was he an attack dog now? A bull terrier? Why not. She already held his metaphoric leash. Where she went, he went gladly). 

Chrissy had looked at him - him, Eddie, the guy who was all swagger and sarcasm and enjoyed guts and gore. The person who was labelled a freak, an outcast, a junior delinquent - and seen someone she wanted to be with. Her sweet pretty smile seemed to shine on him and say you’re my person and you are good and you are mine.  

Hell, he was going to ravish her later on. 

Strawberry  

Oh yes. We have a winner. This would be the part where quiz show lights went off and heaps of cash fell from the ceiling. 

He didn’t need to sample this candle because he knew right away this was the one which reminded him the most of Chrissy Cunningham. 

Of her fucking perfect little mouth. 

Chrissy had a habit of wearing lipgloss and it tended to be of the fruity variety which was A-OK with him as long as he was the one tasting it. He’d drown himself in buckets of strawberries if it meant he could once more brush his tongue against that soft velvet cupid bow. The rush he got from kissing Chrissy was better than any illicit high, and he knew as soon as he’d sampled just a little bit that it was game over. He was hooked for life. Chrissy was now in his veins - channelling through his body - and keeping his small insignificant heart beating. 

Their first kiss hadn’t been planned but it was fucking spectacular all the same. So were their other firsts. All of them etched into his memory forever. He might casually use the word fucking to describe what they were doing nearly every single night in his trailer, but they both knew it ran much deeper than that. They were hooked on each other. Couldn’t get enough of each other. It made them frantic and careless at times. Though she swore him to secrecy (blushing as she did so because of course good girls would never) he would never tell another soul about the times they’d frantically fucked in the back of his van, or on the bench in the woods where they re-met. They’d even fucked hurriedly behind The Hideout and the image of him lifting Chrissy against the brick wall with her long legs wrapped around his waist, was something he thought about a lot. He remembered how her pretty lips looked when she came for him. 

And before that when they first uttered the word fuck infront of him. They’d been sitting on the lawn with their friends at the time, and everyone had cheered at Chrissy Cunningham saying a bad word. He’d whistled and cheered too, though it was incredibly hot and a base instinct deep down wanted to grab her like he was some savage neanderthal and have her there on the field. He was pretty sure she knew that too because there was a coy twist to her smile. 

Ding ding ding. We’ve found the candle. He picked it up and went to pay Becky. 

“Nice choice,” she said as she popped it in a paper bag. 

“Yeah. Chrissy is…” Chrissy was a lot of things. He settled on, “She tastes like strawberries.”

Becky’s cheeks flamed at his words and she couldn’t stop herself from giggling. Instead of feeling embarrassed, Eddie felt pretty proud of himself overall. He’d battled the demon that was the mall, found a sidekick of sorts in Becky, and retrieved the holy grail that would please the beautiful princess. Not a bad campaign really. “Chrissy Cunningham, you mean?”

Christ. They knew her here too? He gave her a stiff nod. Was she going to start coming out with the usual crap he heard in the corridors about not being good enough? 

But no. Becky only gave him the bag. “Lucky girl.”

“Nah, I'm the lucky one.”

----

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing for the couple, so apologies for any errors or mishaps with the setting or characteristics. It’s a learning curve. I was not alive during the 80’s so I did rely on a trusty search engine for a few parts. I actually searched for ‘Yankee Candles which are now obsolete’ (apparently they started in the 60’s - who knew?) and the ones listed above are the search results. Pretty sure some of them have come back into circulation though. The store Eddie so bravely ventured into is essentially an 80’s Oliver Bonas. 

I’m also not from the US though I tried using some of the lingo. I think I actually wrote the word mum but it looked so out of place for this world. I can’t bring myself to swap the spell check over though so you still get plenty of u’s in unlikely places (or likely - eh). 

I really enjoyed writing this. It came very naturally. I’ve posted some prompts on my page which I’ll make my way through but give me a shout if you’ve got any requests. 

Toodles x

[outercrasis]

Don't Be A Stranger

Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Battinson) x gn!Reader

Word Count/Rating: 4.7k // PG-13

Warnings: references to canon-typical violence/injury

Summary: There's no mistaking that silhouette. It's him in your living room. The Batman.

It was pure chance. Anyone in Ms. Atwood's fourth grade class could have ended up with him as their pen pal. You're not sure you believe that the stars aligned just right or that fate was on your side anymore than it being a true, one-in-a-million fluke. Still, you're the one who ended up with Bruce Wayne as their pen pal.

You didn't know it was him at first. You were only given his first name and a non-descript address. The PO box didn't exactly scream the prince of Gotham. Sometimes you wonder if you would have treated him differently if you had known. There's a good chance you would have.

As young as you were, no one could forget the bold, block letters of the Gotham Gazette from early that September. THOMAS AND MARTHA WAYNE DEAD. The editor didn't even attempt to give it any flair. It was shocking enough on its own.

Your father had been devastated, a large supporter of Thomas Wayne's mayoral campaign. Your mother had regarded Martha as a style icon, in shambles over losing her favorite inspiration. You remember reading the byline about young Bruce surviving the ordeal, trying to comprehend what it would mean to suddenly no longer have parents.

It was news that rocked the entire city and the very next day it's all your classmates could talk about. Robbie Carter said his grandpa thought it was all a conspiracy, Monica Gibbs told you her dad was one of the first officers on the scene and that blood had been everywhere, and Avery Parker told everyone to shut up. You were glad Avery did, as the discussion had been making you start to feel queasy.

A few months later though, when your pen pal was assigned, the name Bruce didn't really click. After all, why would Bruce Wayne of all children be writing to someone in the Gotham Public School system?

Blissfully unaware of your pen pal's true identity, you wrote to him like you would have any other kid your age. You introduced yourself, telling him the important details like your favorite ice cream flavor and what you wanted to be when you were older. He was kind enough to not point out that an astronaut chef was an unlikely job.

His responses were a bit muted in comparison, but you didn't mind. It was clear Bruce was intelligent early on with his large vocabulary and varied topics. More than once you had to look up words in the dictionary or pull a reference to understand what he was talking about. Having to look things up sometimes was far better than a boring pen pal – like Andrew Clark who had a pal that only wanted to talk about a specific species of shark.

At the end of the school year with a parent's permission you could send your home address to your pen pal to keep the correspondence going. It took three days to get your mom to grant her approval and worth every extra chore you agreed to. Even more thrilling was that Bruce wanted to keep writing to you too.

Somewhere early fifth grade you figured out Bruce's real identity, not that he'd ever truly been hiding it. The pieces had been clicking together for a while but the clear mention of his bedroom in the Tower cinched it. There's only one capital T Tower in Gotham and everyone knows it belongs to the Wayne family.

You chose to not acknowledge it. Looking back on it you don't know why – it just didn't seem to make a difference. Bruce was Bruce, Wayne name attached or not.

You both kept writing consistently all the way through middle school. Considering the attention span of kids, especially pre-teens, it was a remarkable feat. From what you knew, you were the only one to keep in touch with your pen pal for so long.

For whatever reason your parents never chose to look over your letters and without a teacher's watchful eye, you could say anything. No topic was off limits. There was no judgment between you two. The bond was sacred, sharing every last thought and feeling. You normally made up for where he lacked in the feelings discussion, where Bruce had plenty of thoughts for the both of you.

High school was where things started to slip. You were caught up in keeping your grades high, extra curriculars, and the drama of who’s dating who. You’re not really sure what Bruce got caught up in – as far as you knew he didn’t even attend the posh boarding school for Gotham's elites. 

Needless to say, the established schedule fell apart a little. It certainly wasn’t once a week anymore but you did your best. Even when you didn’t get a reply for a while, you kept sending your letters. Someone had to be clearing out the PO box because none of them were ever returned.

Bruce’s letters came to a complete stop soon after graduation. It coincided with his widely-reported disappearance from Gotham, so you weren’t surprised, but it felt wrong to give up on your correspondence. A pen pal for this long shouldn’t end without a proper goodbye. 

You kept at it – the frequency of your post varying with the ups and downs of life. College brought exciting times but also a fair amount of strife. You kept Bruce up to date about everything. New friends, new partners, new addresses when you moved, celebrations of passing exams, excitement over what was on the horizon, grief at the untimely loss of your father, the burden of bills and low wages. 

While there weren’t any letters being sent in return, Bruce would find a way to pop up in your life from time to time. You’re not sure what he was up to in his world, but it was enough to know he was reading your letters. A surprise delivery of baked goods at your doorstep filled with your favorite confectionaries, a large anonymous bouquet at your father’s wake, a mystery deposit in your bank account when your bills became a bit too tight. 

You'd offer a brief thank you in your next letter, nothing that would embarrass him, but enough that it was acknowledged. After all this time you had a good idea of how to properly toe that line. 

Part of you wished for a real response. Even a short missive emblazoned on impersonal Wayne letterhead. You weren't ungrateful for his little gestures, but you missed his voice, his mind. Bruce had the most interesting way of looking at the world. You missed being privy to it – you hoped one day he would let you back in.

—

It's late when you get home. Clean-up at the volunteer shelter took longer than you expected, meaning your trip home was more nerve wracking than usual. Your apartment isn’t in the Narrows, but that isn’t saying much. Gotham isn’t the kind of city to have a truly “safe” neighborhood – the promise of violence just varies from borough to borough. You’d say yours provides an even 50/50 shot.

The mostly-empty subway cars are uninviting despite being the fastest and safest option. With less bodies crammed inside the tubes it means your chances of being targeted go up. Every squeak of the train track seems louder, every rattle a little more threatening. You keep a tight hold on your bag. The streets themselves aren’t much better. Moonlight barely reaches the street, blocked by the thick clouds, and streetlights are inconsistent at best.

You breathe a sigh of relief when you see your apartment door. Six stories up with two locked doors between you and Gotham's nighttime streets means you can finally relax. It's not really paranoia, more so staying vigilant in a dangerous city.

You flick on your small table lamp and fall into the couch. There's an attempt to fling your bag onto the coffee table, but it hits the side and it slumps onto the floor. Not a big deal. You'll grab it tomorrow. The comfort of home settles in, nearly tempting you to close your eyes right there on the couch when your stomach growls. Food, eating, important. Right.

Rolling off the cushions, you catch a small whiff of yourself. You don’t smell bad, but you’re not sure it can be said that you smell good. Your priorities quickly become apparent. Food, shower, then sleep. Anything else is tomorrow’s problem. 

Deciding what to eat is easy when there isn’t much in your kitchen to start with. Grocery shopping was supposed to happen yesterday, but with how busy your week has been there’s been no time. Luckily, there’s still enough to scrape together a serviceable sandwich. You eat it over the sink, not wanting to deal with a dirty plate and trying to keep the crumbs contained.

By the time you finish your sandwich, your eyes are half-open. Skipping the shower until tomorrow morning is incredibly tempting, but the idea of slipping into your sheets squeaky clean just barely beats it out. 

It takes a little time for your water to heat properly, the result of aging infrastructure and a half-caring landlord. In an effort to keep yourself awake, you pull out a pen and paper and begin to scrawl a new letter to Bruce. 

It's been nearly two weeks since your last one. You've gotten through the simpler details when the water has finally heated, abandoning the letter on the kitchen counter. 

The choice to shower was the correct one. There's immediate relief standing underneath the warm spray, the stress of your day-to-day melting away. The city's grime sloughs off of you, collecting in the tub. It eventually makes its way down the drain – a clogged pipe that you can do nothing about always leads to an inch of water for you to stand in.

You're nearing the end of your shower when a noise catches your ear outside the bathroom door. You quickly write it off. With an apartment six floors up it would take a worthless amount of dedication to find a way into your place. Any smart thief wouldn't enter the apartment with a light on either. It's nothing.

Rinsing your hair, there's another louder noise accompanied by a heavy grunt. There's no mistaking that. Someone has found their way into your apartment.

Panicked, you quickly grab a towel and wrap it around yourself. If someone is going to break into your place they aren't going to catch you completely naked. Looking around the bathroom, you quickly settle on the plunger for a weapon. It's not much but definitely better than nothing. The thought of the baseball bat perfectly nestled under the edge of your bed taunts you.

The shower is still running, but your water bill is the least of your concern at the moment. If you die in the next ten minutes you won't have to pay it anyway.

Inching towards the door, you mentally walk through your gameplan. Throw open the door, plunger raised, run at the intruder yelling, and rain fury down upon them. Hopefully they'll be so shocked by your deranged appearance that they'll immediately frighten and leave.

You only manage to execute the first two steps of the plan – the shock of what you find stopping you dead in your tracks.

There's a man standing there, but it's not some random drophead like you thought. There's no mistaking that silhouette. It's him in your living room. The Batman.

Before you can really process the insanity of the situation he stumbles, landing hard on one knee. You rush over, terrified that the masked vigilante of Gotham is going to die here on your secondhand rug.

He's heavy. With more than half his dead weight falling onto you, it's a shock you don't completely buckle underneath him. 

"Come on, at least get to the couch before collapsing," you grunt, leading him over. 

His eyes are partially closed, clearly struggling to keep them open. He's breathing heavily with his suit half blown to hell. You have no idea what to do.

The most intense medical experience you have is shooting someone full of narcan to help prevent an overdose at the volunteer shelter – an experience you're not exactly eager to repeat. You weren't built for stitching up wounds and preventing infection. Clutching your towel, the realization that there is nothing you can do for him is crushing.

Water is becoming a puddle on the floor beneath you, your breaths becoming more ragged to match his with every passing moment. Something about your fear seems to awaken something in him.

"Front– pocket. Auto– injector. Thigh." Every word is a labor. It takes you a few moments too long for his words to click.

"Now."

The force of his words snaps you into action. You launch forward, frantically flipping through all his pockets to find the right one. Front pocket, honestly. He couldn't have been more vague. Eventually, your fingers wrap around something that looks similar to an epipen.

"Twist. Then–" he breathes in sharply, struggling for the next word. "inject."

You can do that you think. His armor is thick, but the fabric on his inner thigh thins a bit. With his sprawled position, it's easy to access. 

You twist the injector, watching the liquid turn royal blue before stabbing it into his thigh. He cries out slightly, his body tensing, before collapsing back into the cushions.

"Good job."

His eyes slide shut. His chest continues to rise and fall at a slow but steady pace. The mania of the last few moments washes over you, panic transforming into shock and confusion. How did Batman manage to choose your apartment out of millions? What the fuck.

You stand there looking down at him, suddenly realizing you're only in a towel and the shower is still running. A flush of embarrassment courses through you as realization crashes. There's only the barest hope you didn't flash him in all the commotion.

Drying off and changing as quickly as you can, you bring a clean rag and some warm water over to him. You're guessing whatever he asked you to inject him with is some kind of super-serum but you can't imagine being so filthy is doing any favors. The absurdity of this isn't lost on you. You're really about to clean up Batman's wounds.

It's a slow process. You take your time, periodically switching out the water. At some point you grab a different rag to clean up the torn edges of his armor as well, trying to keep everything as sterile as you can. You do your best – you're not exactly an expert at this.

Even as you clean him up it's difficult to come to terms with the fact that this is really happening. Following the aftermath of the Riddler a couple years ago, Batman went from freakish rumor to celebrated hero overnight. He still seemed more myth than real to you, but there's no question now. He is very real and seemingly very human. You hadn't been sure if the bat motif went deeper before.

You finish up and are left with the conundrum of what to do next. You're more exhausted than ever, but leaving him here just seems wrong. In the end you settle on dragging over your moon chair and grabbing a book. This isn't weird right? You're just making sure he doesn't die or convulse or something.

It was foolish of you to think you could stay awake. Between your preexisting fatigue and the adrenaline come-down, you don't make it through a paragraph before falling asleep.

—

The first few rays of sunlight streaming in your windows are what wakes you. There’s a moment of panic before registering that you’re just in your living room, safe and sound. You stretch and rub at the tight spot in your neck. Falling asleep curled up like that is never a good idea. 

Your eyes drift over to the couch and you freeze. He isn’t there. Had you imagined it all? Was last night actually some incredibly vivid dream or hallucination brought on by exhaustion? 

That’s the final straw. No more doubles that roll into volunteer shelter shifts. Your body can’t handle that toll anymore. You give another big stretch, your spine popping, and let out a small yelp when you turn to the kitchen and see Batman standing there. 

If last night seemed ridiculous then you don’t even know what to call this. What is there to say or think when the city’s masked vigilante is standing in your kitchen like he belongs there? And how the hell is he even standing after the condition he was in?

He doesn’t say anything. You’re not sure what you expected. You don’t know what to say either. It doesn’t even feel like he’s trying to psych you out or anything, he’s simply… quiet. His eyes return to your letter that he’s holding. 

“Hey! That’s private!”

You rush into the kitchen, pulling the letter out from his hands. Gotham’s protector or not, he doesn’t have the right to start reading your private correspondence. 

He doesn’t seem all that bothered by your anger. "Sorry, I probably shouldn’t read ahead."

You stare at him in slight confusion and wonder as the pieces click together. Holy shit. How did you not put it together before? It seems so obvious now – like you’re in the fifth grade again realizing your pen pal Bruce is Bruce Wayne.

Bruce Wayne is Batman.

Bruce Wayne is Batman.

His letters stopped years ago, but you would still venture to say you know Bruce Wayne better than anyone else and it all fits. More wealth than he knows what to do with, a desire to continue his father's legacy to improve Gotham, and a deep, dark scar left on his heart all too young. 

You always imagined he would start doing some serious philanthropy work, but you suppose this is in line with that. It's not all that shocking that he wants to do it with his own bare hands. Bruce has always wanted to do things himself.

In the eighth grade he told you about a computer he was working on, going into great detail to explain its complexities. It was going to be one of the most advanced systems ever designed once he was through with it. He also mentioned offhand how he nearly blew himself up with it. Becoming Batman seems right on target with that.

What doesn't make sense is why now? Why tell you at all, this many years in? He's let Batman remain a mystery to you for nearly five years. You didn't do anything new to gain his trust.

“I um, I think I need to sit down.”

You stumble back against your countertop looking for stability. From him showing up unannounced in your apartment to this, it’s all a bit much to take in. You’re grateful Bru-Batm-Bruce doesn’t immediately intrude on your personal space, giving you room to breathe. There’s a good chance you would have fully freaked out on him if he did.

You take measured breaths, careful to not let yourself spiral. Although, if there was ever an appropriate time to do so, this would be it. This is a lot to put on anyone, especially so abruptly. The answer to why Bruce couldn’t use his incredible intellect to plan this better will evade you forever.

Once you can trust yourself to not start panicking again, you look back over at him. You have no idea what comes next. This is not how you ever imagined meeting Bruce. You thought maybe one day he would begin to write back again, leading to the decision to meet for a coffee or dinner. It seemed realistic – a bit more adult. This feels like something out of a dream.

You close your eyes again, trying to take it all in. He’s still there when you crack them back open. To be sure, you give yourself a little pinch on your arm. If Bruce finds that odd, he doesn’t say anything about it. 

Needing to do something before addressing the elephant – or rather bat – in the room, you grab a glass down and pour yourself some water. It feels strange to ignore him, so you offer you uninvited guest water as well, to which he shakes his head no. It at least feels like a semi-normal moment in all of this.

From there, you wander back to your living room, taking up an end of the couch. Bruce follows, politely letting you lead the way. You wonder if he’s told many others or if he just knows this is best for you. You have absolutely no idea of where to begin.

“Um, hi I guess,” you venture.

You’re by no means an expert in the expressions of Bruce Wayne, but you’re willing to bet that’s the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Hello,” Bruce says.

“So you uh, you’re the Batman then? I feel like I should have been able to put that together sooner.”

“I would have been surprised if you did.” You’re not certain on how to respond to that. Your shock must come across clearly on your face, because Bruce is quick to clarify. “I’ve worked hard to keep people from putting the pieces together.”

Not many must know his true identity then. You can’t say it’s surprising, given Bruce’s usual habits about divulging personal information. 

You’re not too proud to admit that sitting across from him in his full suit, even as beat up as it is, is incredibly intimidating. The reason for the bat motif evades you, but looking at him helps you to understand more. He looks large in the suit, an imposing figure by anyone’s standard. His eyes stand out against all the black in stark contrast, the icy blue pinning you in place. It makes it a bit hard to think straight.

“Would you mind um, taking off the–?” You hope you’re not overstepping. He’s trusted you with his identity, but you’re not sure if that also means trusting you with his face.

Your breath hitches as his hands move. The cowl comes off in one fluid motion. 

You’ve seen photos of him of course, even recently, but being face to face is something else altogether. The tabloids have at least one thing right. He’s gorgeous.

His hair is long and in severe need of a brush after a night under the helmet, and yet it works. There’s black makeup hastily smudged all around his eyes, maintaining the contrast of his eyes. Stubble dusts his sharp jawline, drawing your attention to his plush lower lip. You’re not sure if this has calmed your nerves or made them worse. He looks like he was just dragged out of a gutter, which for all you know he might have been, and it’s as though he stepped off the cover of a magazine.

You suddenly realize you should say something more instead of continuing to stare. “I guess I can’t pretend it wasn’t really you after all this,” you half-heartedly joke. You’re not sure if it lands.

Bruce readjusts slightly on the couch, drawing your eyes back to his injuries. Whatever serum he had you pump him full of clearly did its job. The exposed skin still looks angry, but cuts are already stitching back together and there's no longer any active bleeding.

The state of his suit is something else. It looks like he was chewed up and spit back out only to be chewed up again. Massive holes are torn clean through, numerous singe marks across his chest. He's lucky to have not lost the pocket where he was keeping that emergency vial. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, “I was a little worried you’d die on me in the middle of the night.” 

“I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.” You think that was meant to be comforting.

Once again, you’re not really sure where to go from here. It feels like your life has now been turned upside down from when he first stumbled into your apartment last night. Simply patching up Batman would have been plenty to deal with and process, but now you know his identity too? Calling this whole thing strange is underselling it.

It peaks your curiosity though. 

“Why now?” you ask.

Bruce's eyebrows twitch upward for just a moment. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, why tell me now? You've been Batman for a while and I can hardly remember the last time you wrote to me," you explain. "There's essentially no point in telling me so why? How can you even trust me?"

You wish Bruce wasn't so hard to read. It's nerve-wracking, unable to tell what he's thinking or feeling. It's also entirely unfair, knowing that your heart is on your sleeve.

"How long have we been writing to each other?" Bruce asks. You're sure the non-sequitur has a point, so you let it slide.

"Since we were nine. Although I'm not sure the past few years count as actual correspondence." 

"It counts," Bruce asserts, “Trusting you is the easy part. I’m sure my childhood secrets would have fetched a fair price to the right reporter."

Bruce’s mention of selling his letters off is the first time the thought has ever crossed your mind. It makes sense, you suppose. There were definitely times where that extra cash would have come in handy, yet it was never something you considered. You didn't ask for Bruce Wayne as your pen pal and he didn't ask for you – who are you to betray that sacred childhood bond?

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re choosing now to tell me,” you say.

“Your address was the only one I could remember last night.”

You've never been more touched and more concerned at the same time. You caution moving slightly closer to him on the couch.

"You still didn't have to tell me," you say. Bruce looks confused, so you press on. "You woke up first. You could have easily left and told me sometime later."

"Would you have preferred that?"

You think on it for a moment. "Well I guess not but-"

"You deserved to know," he interrupts. "I came here and you cared for me having no idea who I was. The explanation was warranted."

He's not really wrong. The explanation does and doesn't make sense, but what seems to matter most is that Bruce is so certain of it. There's not a single trace of doubt – you're not sure what to do with so much confidence in yourself.

You think back to all the years of silence from him. So many years where you filled him in on nearly everything in your life while learning none about his. Any sane person probably would have stopped writing. Any sane person probably would have changed his PO box and yet, neither of you did.

Sitting across from him now on your well worn couch, you suppose you have an answer for all his unsent letters. You know what he was doing. Sure, the details are missing, but you know and for now that's plenty.

Something more significant than childhood letters are shared between you now. Neither of you are unaware of the shift.

"I need to get back," Bruce tells you. "Alfred is probably worried."

You remember the name of his childhood butler from his letters. It warms your heart to know he's still a large presence in Bruce's life. He always seemed to have the young heir's best interests at heart. 

"Will I see you again?" you ask. You desperately hope this meeting isn't bound for more years of silence from his end.

Bruce slips his cowl back on. "I'll be in touch."

You nod, watching him walk across your small apartment back towards the window. The ever-present clouds in the Gotham sky should provide enough shadow for him to sneak away undetected. He's certainly had enough practice.

Bruce is half out the window when he turns back to you and asks, "Why did you keep writing?"

You don't have to think hard about your answer and give it almost immediately. "I didn't want you to be lonely."

His mask obscures most of his face. You hope that he's touched and not offended – the thought of growing up alone in that Tower just always struck you as empty.

Bruce gives you an almost imperceptible nod and then he's gone. You hope he won't be a stranger.

A week later, there's a letter in your mailbox.

Comments & reblogs are always appreciated 💕

Tagging a few people who seemed interested:) @skeletoncowboys @green-socks @nobodys-baby-now @moonlight-prose @autumnleaves1991-blog @1800-fight-me

[polkadotjohnson]

Warning - this has about 19k words

So I just finished posting Inamourada and then I was like, wait, protag slashes their arm every other day to give it to him and is fine and he was making all that drama about not wanting to touch silver just because… it would burn a little? So I wrote this.

Tried to fix/address other stuff also that didn't make sense in part 1 because I wrote that in a 3 day frenzy. Don't know if I got all of it… I've been trying to post this for like a week, but everytime I try I find something new to fix, to add, to delete, and this is the last time or it will live in my Drive forever along with many, many others. If you do find something that doesn't make sense tell me so I can cry try to fix it or something thank you for your services

There's... smut? Kinda? Can't really write detailed stuff when I can't even decide protag's gender fml and I wouldn't really feel comfortable posting explicit stuff here even though my ao3 is pure filth Speaking of ao3, this would probably be rated 'M' there.

🦈 guess I'm jumping all kinds of sharks 🦈 with...

Your Best Nightmare, a sequel to Inamourada

1

"So... When are you going to bite me for real?" You don't take your eyes off the road, but can still see him squirming beside you.

Even with the small orange plant now in the backseat, he's still visibly uncomfortable in your tiny old car. He's too tall, his legs are too long, and you know he's more of a perching than sitting kind of guy. "I'm not sure what you mean. I bit you just the other night."

This time you quickly glance at him so you can scoff while looking directly at him. "It didn't even break the skin!" Although you really, really enjoyed it. You thought that would be it, that he was finally granting your wish, but it seems his words were more real than you imagined. He really was just toying with you.

Drinking his blood did heal you, but it didn't change you. And his emergency self-surgery left a nasty scar on his neck, which you were quick to clean and bandage. The piercing burned his fingers too, but he didn't even let you look at them. You tossed all your silver accessories away.

"Just... wait a little longer."

You want to ask, for what? But annoying him doesn't seem the way to get things to happen.

You glance at your watch. "An hour and a half til dawn. Wanna stop at the next town and search for a place to crash?"

"Yes." He sounds so relieved that you smile. "You are going to ditch this shoe box and find a bigger one."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh, so you've brought your limitless vampirican express card then? Because I do have my savings, but it's hardly enough to just drop it on a new car, especially when this one still does the job. Or you're suggesting we joyride?" You shrug. "Cause I'd probably be on board."

He sighs as if completely exhausted of you. "You have so much to learn."

*

You're digging through your bag, trying to find your wallet, when the clerk starts to greet you. "Good evening, what can I-" You raise your head to see what interrupted him, and Vincent is standing beside you looking at him with almost feral intensity. You still have a moment to see the man's eyes turning glazed and unfocused before he turns and takes a key, leaving it on the counter. You grab it with a gleam of fascination in your eyes. "That is so neat! I mean, it's not the Ritz but still… wow."

"Which room?"

"Uh, fourteen." He leaves quickly and you follow, wondering what's the rush. Does he need to use the bathroom?

…Does he-

Well, you don't really want to go there right now.

"Lemme open it." The moment you take a step into the room, he's on you. His hands cradling your head and his entire weight causing you to take several steps back until you're right by the bed. "Woah, take it easy, stud! I… I'm…" Your heart is hammering in your chest, because you can't even pretend that you don't want this. That you don't want him. But you never thought he'd move this fast. You just kissed a couple of days ago. And you're still not even sure if it meant anything or just a pity goodbye, since you were dying and all. "At least let me take a shower first, and…" He's a dead weight on you. "Vincent?"

"...Bed." His voice is a little more than a whisper, but not in a seductive way. More in a 'I think I'm dying again' way.

"Oh, shit. What happened?" You try to get out of his way so he won't fall on you and push him as high up on the bed as you can.

"...Tired. Let me sleep."

You eye him suspiciously. "Are you sure that's all it is?"

"Hm."

"Do you want some blood?" You make to grab your new (steel) dagger. No response. "Vincent?" He's fast asleep, his chest rising and lowering slowly. His face is paler than usual and his forehead is cold, despite the droplets of sweat that just started forming there. This can't be good.

Careful not to wake him up, you lift the bandage on his neck and flinch. You have no idea how you couldn't smell it before. The wound is festering, pus leaks from it freely now that it's uncovered. You quickly grab your first aid kit and try to clean it as best as you can. It continues leaking until you cover it with a fresh bandage.

It takes you six tries to light up your cigarette with how much you're trembling, and you don't even realize you've lit up a second one until you finish it and see two butts in the ashtray.

What are you going to do? This is all your fault. Titanium, steel, gold, aluminum, brass, bronze, copper, plastic, bone. Why did you have to be wearing silver piercings? Why did you have to try and do something you knew you weren't going to be able to?

Why did he have to help you? He should have just left you there. Isn't he supposed to be a monster?

You grab your blade and make a small cut next to other scars and stand next to him. "Please." Please have some. I'm sure it'll make you better." You let it drip into his parted lips just like you did that night that now seems like so long ago. The blood runs down the side of his mouth and dies in a red dot on the bed. "Fuck! What do I do?"

"...Be quiet and go to sleep…" His tongue does peek out to lick at the blood you tried to feed him.

Making sure the blinds and windows are well closed, you take off your shoes to do just that, but not before removing his first.

(You were wondering if his feet were clawed too. They aren't.)

His face is still cold to your touch, and you throw a blanket over him before you turn out the lights and lie down beside him.

*

The bed looks like a crime scene. Besides the blood you've spilled over him, you completely forgot to dress your wound, and apparently you tossed and turned all night, spreading red everywhere. You were so scared to fall asleep only to wake up with him dead by your side that the stress ironically made you so tired that you blacked out.

He's still breathing slowly. If it weren't for his flaxen complexion, you'd think everything was okay.

Your watch tells you it's 3:15 p.m., and your stomach complains about being neglected. "I doubt this place has room service," you say with a weak laugh as you get up. "Try not to die while I'm away, okay asshole?" He doesn't stir, and you open the door just a little, hanging a 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the doorknob.

After raiding the vending machines, you grab your laptop from your car, searching through your spell books, which you took the trouble to digitalize. But they're all mainly about necromancy, there's nothing about silver poisoning. The internet isn't helpful either. To the world, things like vampires and necromancers are nothing but fiction. You're lucky your grandma left you those books. Reading about the various different resurrection spells, you found there was a specific one for vampires, which is when you found out the possibility they could actually be real, and that's when your whole obsession to find and become one started. You knew the books were serious when your cat was run over and you tried a spell on him. He lived to be 28, which is highly uncommon for a cat.

And no matter how many books you read, one law was always the same: no creature can be revived twice. You still tried with your cat a second time, but nothing happened. At least you got to spend a long time together, and you were thankful for that.

But this has nothing to do with your current predicament, and you need to figure out what to do. He was fine the past few days, why did he suddenly collapse like that? Was it after he used his powers on the clerk? That had to be it. "I could have paid for the room, you didn't have to show off."

You return to the room and sit beside him, leaning against the headboard. He rustles under the covers and your heart hurts a little looking at his pained expression. "You really don't know what I should do? How do you get better?"

He takes a deep breath, but doesn't open his eyes. "...I'm trying to sleep it off."

You groan. "Dude, it's not a hangover! Your neck is fucking rotting!" 

"You're being dramatic."

"No, I'm really not! You have to know what to do! Last time you were dying you didn't say anything, so I had to figure it out on my own. Don't be like that again." He doesn't say anything to that, and you sigh. "I could try to stitch it…"

"Wouldn't work."

"Why?"

"...It just wouldn't."

With the way the wound is necrosing, he's probably right. There's something you've been meaning to ask him ever since that day but kept forgetting. "Why didn't you cut yourself with your claws?"

"I… can't hurt myself with them, only others."

"Oh. It's probably for the best though, I mean what kinda mishaps you could have in the toil- uh, I mean…" You look at your watch. "Oh, look, it's uh, 4:08 y'know, dessert time. Be right back." You're off the bed and out the door before he can even open his mouth. You think even your hair is burning. Why don't you think before you speak?

You don't really want dessert, and besides, you left your wallet behind. So you just sit on the floor beside the door with your head down, wishing a hole would magically appear and drag you to hell.

"...Come back."

"Shit! How did you know I was still here? You're not using your powers again, are you? Because I'm pretty sure that's what got you like that."

"I can see your shadow."

"Oh." Betrayed by your own shadow.

Closing the door behind you, you lie on your side so you can face him. You try to tell yourself he's looking slightly better, hoping it's not just wishful thinking. "Does it hurt?"

The smallest movement of his shoulders. "Less than being staked through the heart."

You wince. "There has to be something we can do. Someone that can help us."

For the longest time he doesn't say anything, and you think he's fallen asleep again. Then he raises a hand. "Give me a map." You immediately bring up one on your phone. He points to a name, probably a small town. Doesn't seem to be far away from where you are right now. "I know someone here."

"...You have friends?"

He chuckles silently. "Something like that. Although I doubt any of them were ever stupid enough to get silver in their bloodstream."

"Well, let's go then!" You start to get up but he holds your arm.

"Show me."

For the shortest moment you have no idea what he's talking about. Then you fish the silver pendant from under your clothes so he can see it. An owl sitting on a crescent moon. You fell in love with it instantly.

It was in a jewelry box he handed you a few hours after you were on the road. It belonged to his mother, and you wondered how his life would have turned out if she had been wearing it the night the vampire who turned him showed up.

"Can you walk?"

He pulls you with enough force that you fall back on the bed. "Wait until the sun sets."

"Oh, right. That probably would be for the best."

2

"Are they cemetery ghouls like you?"

He's reclined the seat as far as it would go, but it still looks uncomfortable. "You mean like us. Don't worry. They'll know when I'm nearby, and they'll make themselves known."

Before leaving, you offered him your arm again and he took it, drinking enough to regain some of his strength. And his wound looked... only slightly worse.

"Who-"

"Let me rest."

"Ugh, fine." It's probably for the best anyway. The radio is low, and you sing along, quiet enough that you don't think you're bothering him.

"You have a nice voice."

Your hands clutch the steering wheel tight, unsure if you heard him right. Because other than the taste of your blood, this is the first time he's ever complimented you. You look at him to make sure you didn't imagine it, but his eyes are closed, arms crossed and breathing slow. "Watch the road."

"Shit! How-"

"Listen. They can't know I'm… unwell. If they do, they might do something." He pulls up on the collar of the overcoat he put on before you left, making sure it's covering the wound.

"They might do something? What kind of friends are those?"

"I never said they were my friends."

"Alright, alright, whatever. But then… how are we going to ask them for information about silver?"

"I guess we'll just have to… work it into conversation."

"Great." You drive in silence for a while longer. But there is something you just have to ask. "So… what if I asked for one of them to bite me?"

He yawns. "You wouldn't. You want me."

It hits all at once: face burning, cold, freezing butterflies in your stomach, anger, resignation. You barely pay attention to his explanations that not everyone has the ability to turn others anyway, certainly not them. "You're so full of yourself."

"Am I wrong?"

You rather not give him the satisfaction. Instead, you go back to the song on the radio, raising the volume a little. But you have to lower it again, because you don't think you've heard him right. "What's that?"

"I said you're under my spell right now. I could make you do whatever I wanted."

"Are you… is your fever back? Are you delirious right now?"

"Hit the brakes."

Your head feels fuzzy all of a sudden, and you obey him before he even finishes speaking. It makes you speechless, like you have so much to say you don't even know where to begin. "You… you idiot! You're gonna get worse again! Why… what…"

He sits up and holds your face with both hands. "This doesn't affect me like that. But thank you for your concern." He leans towards you, gaze going from your eyes to your mouth, but you can't stand to look at him right now, instead lying your head on his chest and trying to pull him closer.

"Is it because I drank your blood? He hums in affirmation. "So? What would you have me do, then?"

"...That is your instinct? I say I can control everything you do and you get closer to me?"

"I've never had much self-preservation, what do you want me to say?" Besides, he's said so himself. Why waste energy when you're so willing?

"You should definitely never get near Sebastian." He pulls away from you and lies back down, and you resume driving after a moment.

Nothing he says or does makes much sense to you. Why did he even tell you if he wasn't going to make you do anything?

You suppose he's just a hedonist, doing what he wants, whenever he feels like it without thinking too much about it. 

…Not that you're all that different if you're being honest "We're almost there."

"Hm." You can hear a tinge of grumpiness in his voice that makes you giddy, but you try not to let it show in your face.

You want him to kiss you all the time. You want him to kiss you until your lips fall off. But to know that he might feel the same even if just a little makes you almost happier than if you had let him.

You park the car next to a sign that indicates the name of the town. "I think this is it. What do-" A sudden bump on the roof of the car interrupts you, and he sits up quickly.

"Remember, whatever you do, don't-"

"Hey, Vincent, so it's really you!" Someone's upside down face appears out his window. A woman, you can't tell much about her other than she's obviously a vampire too, the pale face and red eyes giving it away almost immediately. "Long, long time no see. What brings you back to my humble abode?"

He smiles pleasantly. "Grace. Still as much energy as the last time we saw each other, I see."

"Oh, you mean when you left me for dead and ran away with your next conquest? Yeah, good times. He's here too, by the way. Said you got tired of him even faster than you did me." She plops down to the ground, and someone opens the door on your side, pulling you out of the car before you have a chance to protest.

"What's that, are you bringing us fresh meals now?" The vampire starts to examine you, his eyes going straight to the pendant you're wearing, but Vincent pulls you away from his grip, snaking an arm around you.

"Sorry, not for you." Despite his condition, you feel safe enough now that you allow yourself to check them out. They're both so unnecessarily attractive that it makes you feel inadequate. The woman, Grace, has a doll face, black hair with a white strand that makes her look like a Hollywood starlet. You still don't know the man's name, but despite him having a more generic beauty, it is the kind that makes you think of superhero movies. "I seem to remember having taught you well how to get any prey you so desired, Paul. So eyes off what's mine."

His words shouldn't floor you like they do, you know it's mostly for show. And looking at them does make you wonder what he's doing hanging around with you when apparently those are his standards.

Then again, you are his willing food source.

Grace checks you out, much like you did with her, and turns to the man. "Have I told you Paul, how many times he told me I was perfect? I bet it was the same with you."

"Nnnope." Paul crosses his arms with a smirk, still eyeing your pendant. "We weren't much for talking, anyway." He winks and clicks his tongue, and Grace slaps his arm.

"What can I say." His voice is right in your ear, making you shiver. "The heart is fickle."

Grace moves a hand to touch you, but pulls back after looking at him. You can only imagine what kind of face he's making. "Feel free to come find us when he's done with you. Vincent's rejects club. Although if he still hasn't turned you by then, I can't guarantee how long you'll last." She frowns. "Why hasn't he turned you yet?"

"You know, I was wondering the same thing." Her words don't really affect you, probably because you're still somewhat in shock that, of all the things you could have possibly found out about him, the fact that he's apparently a player wasn't one of them. It shouldn't have surprised you, really. You did see him go from the blonde cougar to the girl in a matter of days. "I've been asking him for months now, and nothing." His arm tightens around you, but he doesn't say anything.

"Months?" Grace raises a hand to her mouth. "Have you... have you actually settled down, Vincent?" You notice Paul isn't around anymore. You also notice you have no idea where you are. There's just an empty field and a barn. The third thing you notice is that you missed his response, and you curse under your breath.

A black cat jumps on the hood of the car, and you try to go to it, but his grip around your waist stops you.

"Brought Tony." Paul rests an arm around Grace's shoulder and she holds his hand. The cat looks at you, and his eyes have a red glow to them.

"Wait. Them, I can understand." You manage to turn around a little so you can see his face. "But are you gonna tell me you've bitten a cat? Why… how… you know what, I don't even know what question to focus on…" You call to the cat, and he approaches you, rubbing his head on your hand. "You poor thing. Damn, how hungry were you?" Vincent just smiles enigmatically at you.

It's the first time in your life that you're jealous of a cat.

"Oh, cut it out, Tony." Grace playfully slaps the cat's hind, and he hisses at her, then goes back to rubbing himself on you.

"You're such a handsome boy." You try to pick him up, but Vincent shoos him away. You turn again to chide him.

"Aw, thanks."

You freeze, finger halfway to Vincent's face. That's not Paul's voice. So who…

When you look at where the cat was, the only one there is a young Asian man with a sweet smile. He's cute. And naked. "Okay, what the fuck?"

Paul hands him some clothes he'd been holding, and the guy just starts dressing up like it's nothing.

Vincent smirks. "Tony. Was it everything you've ever wanted?"

"Oh man, I love it! Okay, like, I lost my job at Wendy's because they only had day shifts, but it doesn't matter. I'm having so much fun, you have no idea. Speaking of which, let's spar, I want my sire to see how much I've improved." He's already getting onto a fighting stance.

Vincent's smile tightens. "...I'm weary from the trip, maybe later. I'll trust your word."

"Really? Aw, man. Okay, okay. Oh and by the way, I'm loving this reunion thing, but it's gonna start raining in about two minutes, so we should get inside."

Grace and Paul start walking towards the shed. "Good idea. Then maybe you can tell us why is it that you're alive, Vincent, hate of my life. Or are you a zombie vampire now?"

Oh, right. They felt him die too, just like Sebastian. 

"It was just a… misunderstanding, that's all." He starts following them, but you stop him.

"Should I park the car closer? What if-"

"Just leave it. Nobody will want that piece of junk anyway. It doesn't even start without you having to sacrifice a small child to it."

"Oh, that's a little too much, don't you think? I just have to… talk to her gently. Give her a little encouragement, that's all."

"It's okay, honey." Grace turns to look at you. "I promise you no one's gonna touch it."

You can't argue with her conviction, so you follow them. She opens the door, and just a few steps in, you can't believe your eyes. The barn looks like something out of a catalogue. It was modified into a cozy, spacious house, every room separated by different kinds of partitions and an actual walled part, which you imagine are bedrooms and bathroom. "Wow, this is incredible! I thought every vampire lived in squalor like you." You turn around, but Vincent's still outside, the first droplets of rain already starting to fall. "Uh, are you planning on showering in the rain?"

He smiles condescendingly at you. "I can't come in. Which is strange, since I've been here before."

"Oh, I almost forgot." Grace watches him with, well, with a graceful smile. "I put up all kinds of protection spells so no one would find this place, and I think your credentials have been revoked. Oops." She doesn't invite him.

He glares at you. "Come out. Now." His usually calm and tranquil voice now completely stripped of every emotion but rage. Your head starts feeling fuzzy again, like it did in the car. The desire to do what he says is bigger than anything else. As you take a step towards him, Grace holds your arm.

"Don't be mean, Vincent. You don't want your dear friend to catch a cold, do you?"

Not being able to do what he ordered makes you feel like you're being torn in half, but Grace's grip on your arm is unrelenting.

His face as he looks at her holds the same ferocity he used on the hotel clerk, and you want to tell him not to do it, but your head is too hazy. You see her eyes start to glaze as both sides release you, his in your mind and her hand on your arm.

"Vincent, stop it. You can come in." For the first time in the night, Paul's voice is serious. He pulls Grace into his arms just as Vincent all but stumbles into yours. Despite being wet from the rain, from his expression you can tell he's already sweating.

"Why did you do that? You know I have this." You show him the pendant and quickly tuck it into your clothes so it won't touch him and pull him to a nearby couch.

"Still… too risky…"

"Why did you even give it to me, then?" You desperately need a cigarette, but despite seeing an ashtray on the coffee table, you're not going to smoke inside before they tell you it's okay, and going back outside is out of the question. You look around, hoping they won't try anything, but Paul seems to be making sure Grace is okay, and you have no idea where Tony is. "Do you wanna drink some before you rest?"

"No!" He opens his eyes, and almost looks like he wants to use his powers again, so you make sure to send him back the same exact kind of glare. "Not now."

"Calm down, I get it! I'm not gonna cut myself in a house full of vampires. Not even I am that dumb. I was gonna ask if maybe they had some to spare." You try to get up, but he holds on to you with whatever strength he had left.

"Stay… stay."

"Great." You smile unamused. "As if I didn't feel like your pet enough already." There's barely any space left to sit down since he occupies the entire couch, so you push him to the side a little so you can sit down and put his head on your lap.

"Aw, that's adorable."

"Grace… you…" You feel his shoulders tense like he wants to get up, so you hold him in place.

"It was a joke, Vincent. You used to have a sense of humor." She hands you a towel, and you immediately start drying his face and scrubbing his hair. Luckily his clothes didn't really get wet, just a little damp. "And what happened to you? Why are you like this? Does it have to do with that misunderstanding you mentioned?"

"...Bit rough… for a joke." He points at you with his thumb, but you have no idea what he means. "Arm."

"What? Oh." Only now do you see the clear handprint on your arm. Grace's nails aren't long enough to be claws like his, but they left an indent too. "It's okay, it doesn't hurt or anything."

"Says the… m-maso-"

"Shhhh, go to sleep!" He can barely speak and he mocks you. You laugh nervously. "You big baby! Tomorrow you'll be brand new." You're still laughing, but you know by Grace's raised eyebrow that she has made you. "Um, any… anyway, after some… things that happened, he gets a little bit tired every now and then. We're looking into it. But I'd really prefer if you could wait for him to wake up so he'll tell you all about it, I'm not very good with explanations." You hope you were vague enough not to give anything away, because you have no idea what he's going to tell them. "Can I smoke in here?"

"Sure." You fish the pack from your pocket and she hands you the ashtray. "Some human pleasures never leave us." She lights it for you with her own lighter. "Sorry about your arm."

"It's okay, really. I'm used to doing worse."

"...So you're just feeding this parasite out of your own free will? What do you get out of it?"

"I, um… well…" You weren't lying when you said you weren't good with explanations.

"It's alright, I get it. Your face says it all. He… are you asleep, Vincent?" No response. His breathing deep and slow. "He's terrible, and it took me a long time to forgive him. Him and Paul, of course. But I get it." Her tone gets a little jaded, but not fully. "When you're young and in love, it's like they've hung the moon and the stars."

You choke a little on the smoke. "In love? With him? Me? Ah, no, no, no, I, I just follow him around because I want him to bite me, that's all! I'm not in-" She looks at your hand, which has been ruffling his hair in the gentlest manner and you hadn't even noticed, and you freeze. "I was just… his hair is gonna look ridiculous when it dries and we're gonna make fun of him. Yeah." He turns in his sleep, pressing his face against your stomach and grabbing your shirt. Your heart goes ballistic, and you wheeze a little.

"You're swooning."

"I'm… sighing. He's too heavy and my legs are falling asleep."

Grace's smile tells you she didn't buy any of it. "My mistake, then. And besides, there's no point in holding grudges when you're eternal. Supposedly. Y'know, other than the own perils we go through being the way we are."

"Do you like it? Being a vampire?" You're so glad for the opportunity to change the subject.

"I hated it at first. Couldn't go to the beach, I miss the beach. Couldn't eat my favorite meals. Couldn't see my family anymore." She raises her eyebrows at you.

"I'm sorry. But me, I'm… there's no one anymore. I don't have anyone who will miss me."

She smiles. "Not a very smart thing to say in a house full of bloodthirsty monsters."

"I've known monsters. You're not one."

It takes her a moment to continue. "Are you sure? The whole blood thing was so difficult to get used to. And learning how to stop before you kill someone. I can't tell you there haven't been casualties." Her words do nothing to change your opinion. But you do wonder if you're the only one here who's never killed anyone. Has the cat guy…? "But now, honestly, I revel in it. There's so much freedom to do whatever you want. Go wherever you want. Well, other than consecrated ground, of course. Which did make some of my life harder, since some of my spells do use holy water."

"Spells, oh, like you mentioned you did with the house? So you're a…"

"A vampire witch." Her voice is full of pride.

"Cool!" You almost ask her if she knows anything about silver, but it would probably give too much away. And you want to tell her about your own little dabbles in magic, but feel it's better not to. At least not until you're sure you can trust her. "So you could have put a hex on him!"

"Who says I didn't? Probably left him with a bad indigestion at least for a few weeks."

"How long… uh, how long have you and Paul been together?"

She lights a cigarette. "Do you mean how long since this trash dumped me for him, then kicked him out too, and I was the bigger person and decided to give him a chance? Oh, about ten years and five months, give or take."

"Ten… ten years? Holy shit, then he must have left a trail of broken hearts all over the world!" You thought this was a recent situation, but it's clear this playboy has been playing for a long time. 

"You're lucky vampires can't impregnate or get pregnant, or he would have left a trail of bastards too."

You can feel your face burning, so you look away, hoping for anything that will allow you to change the subject again. Tony saves you by sitting down beside Grace, holding a bag with a straw.

"Capri Sun?" He offers the bag, then laughs dismissively. "Nah, just kidding, it's blood."

"That's right, you! You can… you can change! Can you all change?"

"Nah, I'm special." He slurps noisily on his plasma juice.

"Tony's the only one I know that has that ability. And it's not just a cat he can turn into, you know."

"Babe, come to bed, I'm cold." Paul does look like the kind of guy who would call his partner 'babe'.

"And with that, I'm off." Grace stands up, patting Tony on the shoulder. "But not before this. Raise your legs." You do so, and she crouches in front of the couch, raises it with one hand a little while messing with something outside your field of vision. The couch shakes a little and stretches. It's a pull-out. She waves and leaves.

You stretch your legs a little, trying to get Vincent to move too, but it's like moving a rock. Tony's watching you with a smirk, which you return to him. "So, you're from the heartbreak club too?"

He laughs. "Me? Oh, no, no. Me and Paul used to work together and one day he introduced us, and I just thought it'd be pretty cool to be a vampire. So I asked and he bit me."

"You… and how long it took him?"

"Hmm I think it took a while. I had to pester him all night until he did it."

You can't believe your ears. "Night? It took you one night? You just… asked and he did it?"

"Yeah. Why?"

You feel like punching something. "No reason." Just as you're about to ask him about his ability, he stands up abruptly.

"Um… you know what, I think I'm gonna finish this in bed." He leaves quickly, not giving you a chance to get a word in. Did Vincent do something?

"Listen, mister. If you're using your powers again, I'm dragging your casanova ass back to the rain."

"Hmm…" He releases your shirt and stretches beside you.

"Are you really asleep?" No response. So you sigh and reach for the lamp on the coffee table, clicking it off.

Even in this state, the couch is still smaller than the hotel bed, so you're much closer now. Even in the faint light coming from elsewhere in the house, you swear you can see freckles on his nose and trace them with a finger, then his sinfully beautiful lips.

You're not in love. You want him, sure. For a long time now, and this desire grows with every passing day. 

But it's going to break you when he leaves you like he did with the others. Whether you got him to bite you or not, you know you won't be strong enough.

So you tell your heart to shut the hell up because you're not in love.

*

The tinted windows don't let any light pass through them, but you can tell it's morning from the birds. You yawn and stretch, and then something else makes you startlingly aware that it is, indeed, morning. Right against your hips.

Any trace of sleep has left your system. Someone threw a blanket over you two while you slept, and you push it away, too hot for it now.

"Hmm…" He pulls you towards him, and in a second, you're in full contact with him. Then he starts to move.

"He… hey…" As much as your entire body is burning for him, you don't want to let him do something like this in his sleep.

"Yes?" Oh, he's awake. So it's fine then.

"I, uh, see that you're feeling better."

He hums, hand in your hair to pull you to his lips, and it's so much better than the last time. The time you were dying. Now you have the wherewithal to give just as much as you're getting, sucking his breath into your lungs and biting his lips whenever there's a break in the kiss.

Your hand moves without your permission, popping a button, then his fly.

"Wait." He holds your wrist, and your face burns even hotter than before.

You pull your hand from him in a flash. "I'm so sorry! I-"

He kisses your chin. "Wait. Let me drink. They're well fed, they won't mind even if they wake up."

"I… the knife's in my boot." He shakes his head.

"Do you trust me?"

The rational part of your brain tells you you should say no. But your instinct says otherwise. "Yeah."

"Take it off."

"Wha…?"

"The pendant."

You do so quickly, pulling it over your head and storing it safely in your pocket. Either it's bright enough out now or your eyes have grown used to the dark, because you can make out his outline as he raises his claws to your neck, scratching it softly. You feel anything but fear, turning your head to give him more access. You can feel your skin tearing and you sigh wholeheartedly.

Then his mouth is on you, lapping and sucking languidly, as if he were giving you a hickey. Also known as a love bite. You'd laugh if you weren't so stirred up. 

Your head is in a warm, comforting haze; it feels so good to have his mouth there, where you wanted it for so long. Even if it isn't exactly how you wanted it. He takes your hand in his, guiding it, silently asking you to continue from where he interrupted you. You palm him through his pants first, and he sucks a little harder. Your hand goes inside, touching him in earnest, and he stops to sigh against your neck for a moment before continuing. Then his hands are moving, all over you as if he knew exactly how to touch you, every spot that makes you go insane. Your unoccupied hand finds his hair, and you pull a little so he'll look at you.

You can see your blood on his lips, and you bring him down to you, tasting yourself. Bitter, salty, sweet, all blending together, and when your hand speeds up, you swallow his moans too.

When you open your eyes, he's holding your knife to his arm. "Just a couple of drops, or you'll never manage to escape me."

With your breathing still normalizing, your mouth has a hard time catching up with your brain. "I really don't think I want to." You freeze, feeling like you've said too much, wanting to take it back.

"Well, you have to. It's not just your neck." To your luck, he misunderstood you. He clicks the lamp on the coffee table and you see the scratches he's left all over you. "I know you like it, but I imagine you wouldn't want to give them a show."

And while you're sure you'll be wearing on your face how you spent your morning, you really don't want to make it too obvious. So you accept his blood.

It's ironic really, how while all your wounds are closing up, his seems to be the same. "Shit. I'll go grab the first aid, I need to redress the one on your neck too."

Even though the bedrooms seem to all be in the back, you open the door just a little, feeling like a single ray of light getting in would taint their home. It's still pretty cloudy, but you wouldn't want to risk it. You take the first aid kit, a change of clothes for you both and at the last minute, his orange sapling.

When you return, he's under the covers again, and after quickly washing up and changing, you sit beside him to dress his wounds. You try to keep your composure while you clean his neck, but he can tell what you're thinking without even looking at you. "That bad?"

"We need to talk to them today. Even if we have to tell them everything."

"Go find something to eat. They won't wake up before late noon."

"Okay. Get some rest too. Oh, I was thinking." You show him the pot. "If they're okay with it, we could plant it here. It's not going to survive long staying in the car so much. Then if we… if we find some other place, we can take it there. I mean, if you want to."

He smiles, sweeter than you've ever seen. "Sure. We'll do it tonight."

You stand up to leave, but stop suddenly worried. "And Grace… are you sure she…"

"If she hasn't killed me by now, she won't."

You're still a little uneasy, but he does know her better than you. "Alright, be back soon. Here." You leave his clothes on the sofa and he nods. When you're at the door, he calls you back.

"There is something I forgot." The seriousness of his voice makes you worried all over again. "Come here." You stand beside him, but he shakes his head. "Closer."

"What? What is it?" You sit down next to him, hoping he won't tell you he just remembered silver infections only last a few days and then the afflicted dies or something like that.

But he just lays a hand on the back of your neck and pulls you into a kiss. "This." He smiles. "You can go now."

That's… that's not fair at all. You're out of your element. You're fighting a losing match. How can you lie to yourself when he gets you so worked up with such a simple gesture, with a chaste kiss. "You're… you're infuriating." Face on fire, you stumble on your own feet before you leave.

*

The town is small and quiet, but there's a diner that catches your attention because of the tall booths you can see from outside. It's been ages since you'd stop caring about what other people think of you, but you don't know this place, so it's better not to draw too much attention.

Half the patrons inside eye you up and down as you enter, but return to their meals after a moment. You grab a menu and choose the booth furthest in the back.

The pie is big and hot, and biting into it, you just can't help remembering this morning. His touches, his smell, his taste, his noises… 

You're so not in love with him.

Just as you're deciding what to take for dinner so you won't have to return here, someone sits across from you. A pale man with blonde hair. His eyes a light red, almost orange. Your hand instinctively goes to your neck, and you try not to have a panic attack when you realize the pendant isn't there. You took it off and put it… where? Oh no, is it back at the house? No, it's in your pocket. In the pants you changed this morning. In the trunk of your car.

"I can tell you're not from around here. What's a little thing like you doing in a town like this?"

Thing. You hate being called a thing. But you smile sweetly at him "Just visiting some friends."

"Oh yeah? Wanna make some new friends?"

"I… I don't know, they're waiting for me and I'm supposed to bring them some stuff. For lunch." You start to get up, but he grabs your hand.

"Nah, stay with me. They can wait."

You sit back down, feeling a little drowsy just like last night. But it's different, his persuasion or whatever it is doesn't seem to be nearly as strong as that controlling power Vincent has over you, or his own persuasion. While the people you've seen affected by it seemed to be in a zombie-like state, you remain pretty aware.

"Don't make a scene, no one's gonna care. They know not to mess with me. I want you. And what I want, I get."

You look around and it seems like everyone is making a point to not look in your direction. "Oh wow, that's a little fast, isn't it? We don't even know each other."

"Easy to fix. I'm Noz, and what is your name, little thing?"

You'll stick a fork in your eye before you tell this guy your name. "Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way."

"Awesome name!" From the shit-eating grin on his face, he really seems to like it. "See? Now we know each other, let's go." He stands up, pulling you along, glancing at a man sitting on the next booth. "Pay it for me, will ya?"

What is he going to do, just walk outside in the middle of the day? Will he burst into flames? You hope so. But once out, he seems just fine, and you wonder if it has to do with the weather. The clouds are so heavy you don't even know where the sun is in the sky. "Um, where are we going?"

"I live right around the corner. I'm gonna give you an experience like you've never had."

"We could take my car, I just have to get something in the-"

"No need, it's right over there." He starts pulling you away from where you parked.

You need to find a way to get to your car, but nothing comes to mind. "Um… what kind of experience are we talking about here? 'Cause let me tell ya, I've been through a lot. I could show you pictures on my camera, and-"

He stops suddenly, pushing you against the wall of the diner. "If you're so eager to know, here." He shows you his fangs, running his tongue over them.

They're minuscule compared to Vincent's.

"You're… you're a vampire? Wow! That's awesome! I… I… I've always wanted to meet one! Could you-"

Then he's all over your personal space, sniffing you. You try not to cringe. "You can cut the act, sweetheart. I can smell it all over you. Especially…" He sniffs long and hard around your neck and you close your eyes, holding in a whimper of disgust. "Here. So what's the story, morning glory?"

"I…" Thinking on your feet, you cover your face with both hands, pretending to cry. "He's holding my son hostage! And keeping me as his personal supply of food! Look!" You show him your arm, littered with scars. "I can't take it anymore, and I don't know what to do! I'm sorry I lied to you, but if he finds out I talked to another vampire, he's going to kill you. He's too powerful."

"Oh, I doubt he's got anything on me, baby. I've been like this for years. Experience counts in matters like these." Years, not decades. Okay.

"Really? Because he said he turned about two months ago. So you're probably right, you must be much more powerful than him. Maybe… no, I couldn't ask."

"I'll destroy him with one hand."

"You promise?"

"Yup."

You brace yourself for the sell. "Thank you! Thank you so much!" You wrap your arms around his neck in a hug. Now you're going to have to shower again. "Can you turn me too? I've always wanted to be like you."

"Well, I don't think you can be like me, but yeah, yeah sure. I'll turn you." You can tell from the way he speaks he doesn't really have the power to do so.

"Great! I'll take you to him." And just in case he doesn't buy it, you add in the most seductive voice you can muster: "And then we can have all kinds of experiences afterwards."

"Hmm yeah, baby. It's your lucky day, you better show your appreciation." 

As you turn to thankfully go back to your car, he slaps you, and you take a deep, deep breath before you turn back and wink at him. "C'mon, tiger." Oh shit, you hope you haven't ruined it.

"Rawr!" Ew, nope, you didn't.

He sits beside you, and while you could take him to the house, you don't know just how capable any of them are in a fight, and they're most likely still asleep. Vincent could definitely take care of him. If he weren't... unwell, as he put it. Besides, you've gone too far now to give up. You turn the key, but the car doesn't start. You try two more times. "Shit, not again. Stay here, I'll get a jumper cable in the back. Do you think someone at the diner will help me?"

"If they don't, I just have to tell them to."

Vincent would only have to look at them.

You get out of the car and close your eyes, silently praying to whatever dark deities might be around. The pendant is peeking from the pocket of your pants, almost falling into the mess that is your trunk, so you quickly grab it before it does.

"What's that you got there?" You scream in surprise at the sudden hand on your shoulder and press the pendant to it. "Ow! What the fuck?" Before he can move, you do it again, wishing you could cut him with it, but it doesn't have any sharp edges. But your knife does. "You fucking freak! You goddamn piece of-" You slash his stomach once, but he dodges it the second time and punches you in the face. You stumble backwards, the knife flying from your hand, and you watch the glinting blade with longing as he gets near.

Glinting?

The sun burns your eyes. It's just as sudden as Vincent said. 'Noz' or whatever his name is, doesn't even have time to scream and he's gone, dust and ashes already scattering in the light breeze.

You were never a big fan of the sun, but today you'd kiss it if you could.

With trembling hands, you put the pendant around your neck again, just about to reach for a cigarette when you notice everyone that was at the diner is now watching you from the sidewalk. "Uh, you guys serve steak?"

*

No one laughed at your attempted joke, but at least you got a couple of free meals out of it.

You turn on the radio but can't remember how the player works. Then you hit the brakes and throw up on the side of the road.

Did you just kill someone? Now… now what? No one seemed to make a fuss, no one called the police. Although it would be hard to convict you without evidence of an actual crime, other than the witnesses. Is that how it went with vampires? No laws, no punishment, no justice? Not that you want to go to jail for that garbage. But… it's the same the other way around, isn't it? They kill too, and no one bats (haha) an eye at it. Well, you highly doubt they're ever mentioned in any law book so that's the only way it can be.

You grab a bottle of water to wash your mouth and start the car again, the right way this time. Even though you're done with adventures for the day, you don't want to get back too soon while everyone is still asleep, so you drive around, trying to find something to do. There's a tiny movie theater, and you buy a ticket for the next session, barely paying attention to what the movie's about and sleep through almost the entire thing. When you leave, the sun's hidden again, and it's considerably darker. Almost 5 p.m., your phone tells you. Time to go back.

Your three new acquaintances are playing cards on a table, while Vincent still rests. "I thought you guys would be playing baseball or something."

Vincent sees your face and is beside you before you take two steps in. "What happened?" He takes your face in his hands, clinically examining the bruises that have already formed around your eye.

"You should see the other guy. Oh no, you can't, because he's pixie dust now. What are you guys playing anyway? Guess I should put some ice in this, huh?" You let him pull you to the couch, and Tony hands you a frozen bloodbag.

"Sorry, it's all we have."

You thank him and hold it against your eye, trying to sum up the events as best as you can while ignoring the tears flowing down your face.

"I know that guy. Well, knew." Paul winks at you. "Real douchebag. You did good." He frowns. "What kind of stupid name is 'Noz' anyway?"

Grace chimes in. "Besides, if you're worried about it, you did not kill him, he did so himself. Any vampire worth their salt wouldn't be scurrying around outside during the day, cloudy weather or not." She raises her eyebrows haughtily. "He was asking for it."

Their words do put you more at ease, but Vincent's face is dark. "I should have. I should have turned you." He shakes his head. "You wouldn't make it."

"...How do you know?"

"Because you're just like him!" Vincent's usually smooth voice now marred with despair. "Haven't I told you? He was weak, and so are you!" He gets up to stand by the window.

"But he did make it! And I think I just proved I'm strong enough, didn't I?" You want to be angry at him, but the fact he doesn't want to do it because he's worried about you allays you a little. Then something dawns on you. "You said… you said you fed him all night. Your blood, right? Which is why he made it." He nods. "So that means… if you bit me now…" You look at the bandage on his arm, then at his face.

"I told them everything."

He's the one who's too weak. If he thinks you'll need him to look after you and feed you his own blood, right now is not exactly the best time to do it. "Did you know? Even before the hotel? You knew there was something wrong, didn't you?"

"I had an inkling, when my neck wouldn't stop broiling."

You follow him to the window, hitting his chest with your fists. You imagine this whole scene must probably look like a soap opera to the others. "You idiot. Why didn't you tell me? Why did you do the thing with the clerk?" You hear Grace whispering, "Ooh, thing with the clerk?"

He wraps his arms around you, and you already know you're going to start crying again any minute now. "I didn't know. I didn't know what would happen."

"If I… if I hadn't almost killed myself, none of this would be happening. This is all my fault!"

"I heard you scream. If it hadn't been for you, we'd both be dead." He wipes your tears with his fingers. "Come on." He brings you back to the couch and hands you the frozen bloodbag. "I could give you more blood to heal this quickly, but I have the feeling you would say no."

You take the bag and press it against your face again. "You're damn right I would say no."

"You could take mine. Or any of ours, I don't think any of us would mind," Grace offers.

Vincent intervenes before you can reply. "That is out of the question. After last night, I don't know if I'm very fond of your… jokes. Best not risk it."

You elbow him. "It's okay, guys, thanks. Not my first black eye. More importantly. Do you know anything? That can help us?"

Grace shakes her head. "We told him already. The only contact any of us had with silver after turning was that I was wearing a silver ring, and it almost burned my finger off. But it healed after I took it off. I'm sorry."

"I gave him a suggestion, but…"

"Paul…" Vincent's voice is low and menacing.

Paul shrugs. "It's all I got."

"What? What is it?" No matter what it is, you have to try.

"Nothing worth trying. At least nothing I would-"

"Please!" You grab his shirt with both hands, your voice filled with desperation. "Please. I'm begging you. Anything is worth it."

"...He suggested I go to Sebastian," he says with an unamused smile. "Apparently, he's been studying all kinds of things about… us. Guess he really wants to be the expert in vampire lore."

You shake your head, not believing what you're hearing. "Then what are we still doing here? Let's go!"

He backs away from your hands, still strangely leering at you. "Do you seriously want so bad to be turned that you'd ask me to subject myself to him?"

It's like the world vanishes around you and a black hole starts forming in your chest. You can faintly hear Grace yelling at him, but can't make out her words, can't make out anything. "I'm… going for a walk. Thanks for the ice, Tony." You drop the bag on the couch and leave, ignoring everyone.

No amount of cigarettes can make you stop shaking, so you drive to a nearby convenience store and buy a fifth of whiskey, something you haven't abused in years. But you don't care. You just want to black out. You can't think. Don't think. Don't think, just drink.

*

"Ugh. Wha…?" There's a crowd of people hitting your head with tiny hammers. Over and over. You can't see them, but you can feel them there. And apparently they made you drink out of a toilet, because that's what your mouth tastes like. Why is it dark? Is it still night? You can't see anything out the windshield. But you can smell smoke and vomit. "Bleh, I need a toothbrush."

"And a bath."

You scream, searching for your knife. Vincent turns on the dome light, and you point the knife at him. "What are you doing here? Where am I?"

"Crashed against a tree. I found you last night. You've been gone for two days." Your watch confirms he's telling the truth about the date.

It also tells you it's half past noon. And judging by the heat, pretty sunny outside.

All the window covers and blinds you haven't had the need to use before are in place, and the one on your side is dangerously flapping thanks to a small opening on the window, which he probably did so you wouldn't suffocate. Or because of the smell. You close it quickly and fix the cover back in place.

"I'm grateful you still care for my life."

"Vincent…" You sigh. "Is there any water in the back?"

He shakes his head. "I looked for it to see if I could clean you up."

You look down at yourself and almost throw up again. "Oh, gross." You unceremoniously strip as carefully as you can, staying in your underwear, and ball the soiled clothes, pushing them as far in the back as you can. "Since when… you said you found me last night?"

"Earlier today just before dawn, to be exact. I'd have taken you back but we're too far away, there wouldn't have been time."

"Where are we?"

He shrugs. "Somewhat far into the woods. You swerved off the road and came rolling down the hill for a good while before this big, beautiful oak tree interrupted you."

"Does it look bad?"

"Your shoe box is done for." The above light goes out as he says it, as if signaling the fate of the car, and you remain in the dark. 

"Great." Now that you're properly awake, you notice it isn't actually that dark, you can see his shape quite well as he stares ahead.

The silence isn't uncomfortable, just irritating. Isn't he going to say anything? Does he still stand by that bullshit he spewed last… two nights ago? Are you the one who's going to have to bring it up?

"So…"

"We're going. To see Sebastian. If we don't die of sunstroke first."

You take a deep breath. "That was not why I said it and you know it."

For a few minutes, he doesn't say anything, and if you're not going to discuss it, you might as well try to fall asleep again.

"Do you love me?" Well, that plan is out the window now.

"Wha-what? You… you… you don't just ask people that!"

"Why not? I love you."

To say this is not exactly the type of situation you thought you'd be in if you ever got to hear him saying that is an understatement. Your jaw starts tingling when you try to speak, probably because you've been taking so many deep breaths, you think you're hyperventilating. After a moment, you try again. "You'll have to forgive me if I say I don't believe you."

He's still looking straight ahead, but you can see he's frowning. "Why? Because I've had other lovers? Haven't you?"

"Well, yeah, but… you seem to get tired of them pretty quickly." What did he say? The heart is fickle?

"So… how long is love supposed to last?"

You can't believe him. "Forever, Vincent. Love is supposed to last forever." He seems so childish at first, but then you remember who was it that taught him about love. And how big of a lie it was. "Listen, can we talk about this later? My throat is dry and my head is killing me." When he doesn't answer, you get a little annoyed. "Hey."

He doesn't just look at you. His eyes devour you from head to toe and he's breathing hard, panting. And you can only imagine the state you're in. Without even mentioning the smell, your hair is probably a nightmare, your makeup making you look like a mime from hell. And don't forget the black eye. But he looks at you as if you were a centerfold.

"...Can I have your shirt?" He unbuttons it and gives it to you without a word. He's so tall that it goes to your knees. His naked torso does put you in some state also, but nothing like he was. Still is, judging by what you can clearly see under his pants.

Even if he doesn't love you, his desire seems to be big enough to confuse his head. You're not sure you can sleep after such a revelation.

When you wake up, you're not in the car anymore, and you're… bouncing? "Um… hi?"

"Good evening." He's carrying you bridal style, and you can only imagine the scene. You, only in an oversized shirt and shoes in the arms of a pale, shirtless man.

"You can put me down."

"Alright. You smell, and you're heavier than you look."

You snort loud, once again in total disbelief of this person. "This is the first time I hear you joking."

"Who said I'm joking?" He does put you down, and you walk beside him, still laughing and without any idea where you are.

You look back. "What about the car?" You can still see it in the distance, not that far into the tree, just enough to have ruined the engine. You're lucky not to have a single scratch.

"I've locked it. We can go back for whatever's inside later." He takes a deep breath. "Listen. I get... irrational when it comes to Sebastian. We never got along, not even when we were kids. Which is why I've kept my distance from him. And our incompatibility only made us drift further and further apart from each other with ever year. Every decade. Before that night he showed up at my house, I hadn't seen him in well over fifteen years."

"But..."

"But... we're still going. I... I won't let him cloud my judgement like that again."

You suppose that's as close of an apology you'll get, and you're fine with it, you'd honestly didn't even think he'd say as much.

After that, you walk mostly in silence in the cold evening, and when he sees you shivering, he offers to pick you up again. Since when was he this chivalrous? But you refuse his offer, on the account of you being too heavy and all. He just laughs, and you have no idea what's going on.

*

Grace can't stop pointing from him to you. "Okay, you're gonna have to tell us this story."

You sigh. "Please. I need water. And toothpaste. And… and clothes and a bath. Please."

"Of course, I'm sorry." You let her help you out, devoid of energy to do much more than just sit in the bathtub and let it wash this entire day away. The pastel purple shirt with a Count Dracula holding a book and the words, 'My favorite thing to sink my teeth into' makes you smile. Something tells you it's Tony's, and when Vincent sees you wearing something that's such a contrast to everything he's seen you wearing so far, he even does a double take. 

Later in the night, you and Grace plant Vincent's orange tree in her own little orchard, and when you tell her where it came from, the look in her eyes tells you that you really can, in fact, trust her.

"Listen, if you ever need- if one of you-" Vincent casually calls you, using what he calls blood control.

He whispers in your ear. "It's best if you don't." He doesn't use the control as he says this, making it only a suggestion.

"How did you know-"

His hand on your face is so gentle you don't mind the interruption. "You're kind. You're too kind for the likes of people like us. Keep it to yourself. If they ever need it, I'll know. I just told them the same story I gave Sebastian. I never told them I died."

"...Fine."

"I don't like it, for the record. Using that on you. It will pass, but it is a vile power."

You had no idea he felt that way. "I'll try not to… make you have to use it." You close your eyes and lie your head on his chest. "You're not… the worst person ever."

His chest rumbles in quiet laugh, and he starts speaking, but Grace interrupts.

"Oh? Have we really kissed and made up then? Are you unconditionally and irrevocably-"

"Don't. Please don't." That's a trainwreck you're only too happy to derail.

A bat flies around a little in front of you, and then Tony's there again. "Found him." He grabs a robe that's hanging from the wall and slides into it. "He has places all over Romania, but he's staying in some secluded castle for the moment, middle of nowhere. I'll write down the directions for you." He eyes you up and down and says with a wink: "Nice shirt!"

"...You're a bat too? What else? Can you turn into like, a frog? A goat? A dragon?"

He just shakes a finger at you. "Secrets of the trade, my dear. Need to know only."

"And by him, do you mean Sebastian? You were looking for him? Why don't you guys use cell phones?"

"Well, after our friend Vincent here deeply regretted his harsh words-" Vincent slaps him over the head. "Ow. I set out to find him. And Sebastian is a hard man to find, don't think he just gives away his number to mere mor-, uh, immortals."

"Well, you know what they say." Paul's voice surprises you, because you had no idea he was home.

Grace smiles, rolling her eyes. "What, Paul? What do they say?"

"A mere mortal… shuffles not their own coil."

You have no idea who says that, and what it means.

"Did you get it? Is it like I asked?" Vincent sounds almost… giddy.

"See for yourself." Paul hands him a set of keys and Vincent all but drags you to the front yard.

The monstrosity is at least twice as big as your car, and it looks like something a government agent would drive. All windows are tinted, including the windshield. 

"V8, baby. Carbon body, alloy wheels, 2% ceramic tint. Should let you drive during the day no problem. I'm almost getting one for myself."

"It's perfect." Vincent looks at you. "This is a car." You had no idea he was this enthusiastic about cars.

"No, this is a fucking boat! Do you even drive? Because I don't know if I can handle something this big." A very, very intrusive thought crosses your mind, and from the way both Grace and Paul are looking into nothing, scratching their heads and clearing their throats, you can tell it crossed theirs too. Only Tony smiles innocently, looking a little lost. 

Vincent shrugs. "I've crashed a few vehicles here and there. Broke my arm once."

Resignedly, you take the keys from his hands. "At least I have the excuse that I was drunk."

"Wait. You guys can't go now!" Grace takes the keys from your hands and gives them back to Vincent. "I need to do a protection spell on you. On you both, actually. You do know where you're going, right?"

Tony raises a finger in the air, as if he just had a great idea. "You guys should take us to be your muscle, the car is big enough. C'mon, it would be like an adventure. Like, y'know like Lord of the… of the Flies!"

You frown at him. "...Not where I thought you were going with that."

Vincent glares at Grace. "Well, can't you do it now?"

"No, I have to gather the ingredients. Now come on, you can leave at tomorrow's sunset."

*

"Is your charisma natural or part of your abilities?" You're so far on the edge of the couch that you're almost falling.

"How do you mean?"

"Well… Grace said you left her for dead. And now she's in the backyard picking up stuff to make you a protection spell. So, y'know, I was just wondering."

"I didn't 'leave her for dead', she had plenty of time to run back inside before dawn, and she did. It was a long time ago, and we are very resilient."

"Hm. What about Paul?"

He sighs. "Paul knew it was just a fling, I doubt he's ever held any grudges. Are you scared of me?"

He catches you by surprise with the abrupt change of subject. "What? No."

"Then why are you so far away?"

"Listen." You get infinitesimally closer. "I don't know if this will be bad for your ego, but there has never been any moment since I met you that I was ever afraid of you." You lower your voice to a whisper. "But Grace is right outside, and since it's almost dawn, she'll come back at any moment, and I don't want her walking in on… anything. We are in the middle of their living room. And judging from the noise, Paul and Tony are still up and playing video games. So keep your pointy claws to yourself tonight."

"...Fine." He turns away and moves to the other edge of the couch.

He's sulking. Vincent, the master vampire, heart-breaker extraordinaire, is sulking.

"I mean, it's not like I don't want to touch you, but…"

"No, I understand. Good night."

He is not going to guilt trip you. He won't. You know this is what he's doing, so it's not going to work.

…

Sighing in disappointment at your own weakness, you get closer to him. "You're such an asshole." You pull on his arm so he'll turn towards you.

"What? I'm respecting your wishes."

"Yeah, you can cut it out now. The whole manipulation thing does not look good on you."

He smiles, running a hand over your face and neck. "I was so wrong about you. Unremarkable? You're anything but. You're clever. Astute. And you have your own strengths too."

"Yeah, well…" You pull on his arm until he's halfway on top of you. "You're clearly not one of them." You kiss him softly, the knowledge that neither of you will want to stop if it goes too far sending a most definitely welcoming shiver down your spine.

The back door opens. "I'm not looking. I'm not looking. Carry on, kids." Grace traverses the room quickly, holding a basket by her side, while Vincent rests his head on your chest. He smiles at you after she leaves.

"You were clearly right. We might as well sleep, it's a long drive."

Now you're the one who wants to sulk, but you know you really should sleep. But you don't let him get back to his side, instead keeping his head on your chest, fondling his hair until his breathing turns deep and slow.

*

"This will make you immune to anyone trying to control you, unless you look them in the eye. Lasts ten days." Grace rubs something on your forehead and has you drink from a crystal glass, and it tastes surprisingly good. You were wondering what you were going to do if a vampire simply used their powers to order you to take off the pendant. "And Vincent," she rubs it on his cheeks and hands. "This will allow you to use some persuasion without draining your own energy, but only on humans. It will also give you an aura of power, making it seem to anyone you're at least thrice as strong." He drinks it too, and something about the word 'aura' makes you smile, although you're not quite sure why. "Lasts five days. It's all I can do for you."

"Thanks Grace, for everything." You hug her tight, then Paul and Tony.

As you start the car, you glance at Vincent, who looks particularly content with the amount of space he'll have to stretch as much as he wants to. "Guess you can't deny that you do, in fact, have friends now."

He sighs, but the corners of his mouth do turn up. "And just like that, the air of mystery, solitude and superiority I've been cultivating for decades is shot to hell. My reputation has taken quite a plunge."

You smile too. "Aw, I'm happy for you!"

The new car is surprisingly smooth on the road, the seats plush and absurdly comfortable. But it will take you a while to admit out loud that it is much better than your old one. You do stop by the crash site to transfer the contents of the trunk and everything else you need.

"So, we just abandon it?"

Vincent shrugs. "It's so far into the woods no one's going to find it. Not in a town this small. Just let nature claim it."

You nod and pat the trunk. "See ya, old girl."

3

You were weary about driving during the day, but Vincent assured you it would be okay, it's specifically why he asked for such dark window tint. But you still stick to mostly driving at night, there's less traffic, and you really don't want to hazard him being wrong.

You try to pay for the room this time, but he decides to test Grace's spell before you can stop him, and you almost slap him. But it goes well, and as the clerk starts to wake up from his haze, he can't keep his eyes off of Vincent, shaking a bit as he hands you the key. It makes you grin when you imagine what kind of vision the man is seeing in his head as he looks at him. A boxer? A bodybuilder? Or he just sees him the way he is and inanely ponders about how that tall, yet slender man is the most powerful creature he's ever seen? 

While you shower, you think about your decision and wonder what he'll think of it. But when you come out and he's in bed already, shirt hanging on a chair, you almost go back on it. "I have a request." You lie down beside him. "Can we wait? Until you're better? Because I wanted it to be just like that morning, but I can't just walk around all bruised and scratched up. Sure, they'll look at me funny, but that part I'm used to. But everyone's gonna think I'm dating some abusive asshole, and I can't have that." The moment you realize you just said, 'dating', you choke on nothing, already thinking on what to say to fix it.

But he just pulls on your arm so you'll wrap it around his waist and runs the back of his fingers over your face. "I was barely awake that morning. You have seen nothing yet." And with that promise and all its implications on your mind, this time it does take you a long time to fall asleep.

*

Twice you are stopped, because of the non-regulation tint, you imagine, and both times Vincent just glances at the officer and he lets you go. It is a very helpful spell, especially since you were not looking forward to those tickets.

You grab the map Tony made you, trying to make sense of it.

"What does it say?"

You study it a little. There's a drawing of what looks like a castle over a hill, surrounded by trees and a nearby lake. "It's kind of like this place, but there's no lake here. I think it's on the other side."

He sighs. "Why couldn't he have used an actual map?"

"Well, he said it actually wasn't on the map. It's not any of the famous ones, which I think are just museums now, for tourists?" You watch the landscape dreamily. "Do you think we could visit Bucharest afterwards? I've always wanted to."

Vincent watches the castle you just passed. "Sure. But these… I just don't see the appeal, living in a place this big when all I need is a bed. Sebastian was always… excessive."

"Go ahead and call him extra. But um, I guess it does look kinda cool? And it has a nice view."

He glances at you. "Is it where you want to live?"

"Oh, no, no. I also think it's too big. A place like your house would work just fine for me. Even that I think it's too much, actually."

He takes the map, turning it one side then the other. "Turn here."

"Into… the forest?"

"Supposedly there's a path up ahead." It's late afternoon, so it's still bright enough that you're not afraid of getting lost, so you follow his instructions. "Where did you live?"

"I, uh…" You thought you wouldn't have to talk about it. "Just a small place, bed and a toilet. Couldn't afford much."

"Mobile home?" You nod quickly, shame creeping up your face. "I can only imagine how clean and tidy it was, after all you did for my house. Too bad it was all for nothing."

"It wasn't. Even if it was just for a short while, at least you got to see it kind of like what it used to look like."

You drive in silence for a while, and just as you're about to ask him for directions, he touches your hand softly. "Thank you." His voice just as soft.

You'd admit it, all your feelings for him if he asked again right now.

"You're welcome."

"Look." He points at a lake in the distance and a white structure atop of a hill that you can only imagine is your destination.

The moment you start approaching the castle, it's like the atmosphere changes, becomes more oppressive, and you feel like you're going straight to the final boss in an RPG, but your character is level 1. "Any last minute advice?"

"Sure, turn around and go back to Grace's. I'll call you when we're done."

You raise your eyebrows at him. "Oh, you're being funny again. That's nice."

He sighs. "I could order you to. But you know I won't."

"I wouldn't forgive you if you did."

"Just… don't go anywhere alone with him. Don't tell him you're a necromancer. I am not kidding or exaggerating when I say he is dangerous. He was fine at first, but something changed after he moved here. Bad company, I imagine. And… there's something else too." He looks away, seemingly unwilling to continue, but you wait patiently. "I lied to you. She wasn't the one who turned him. I did. She… wanted to test to see if I had the ability, and told me to choose between him and Christopher. Of course I chose him. I thought I was protecting Christopher, but in the end it was all in vain."

"But… she made you do it, it's not like it was your fault."

"Well, he holds a grudge regardless. And do you know the reason? He can't turn others, and he thinks if she had been the one to bite him, that he would be able to, like me. But that's not how it works. You… you don't know what's going to happen. You don't inherit the traits of your sire, it's all random. Tony's the only person I've turned that can transform. And there was a girl once who could create illusions, I've never seen anything like that afterwards. I imagine it could be related to your personality. Or maybe your physiology. I don't know. I honestly don't know." Just as the sun sets, he takes your face in his hands. "If something happens to me, go back to them. They'll look after you. Even if you don't want to stay with them, they'll help you out."

"But I-"

"Promise me. Promise me this one thing."

"...Okay." He kisses you with such fervor that you moan a little, blushing when you realize you've done so.

"Don't look in his eyes, don't forget." He opens the door and you do the same.

"I won't."

The door to the castle has a knocker, but it also has security cameras. Vincent examines both. He points at the knocker. "Silver. His traps aren't only to keep humans out, it seems." Just as you're about to use it, the door opens.

And it's an actual butler. At least he seems to be, judging by how he's dressed. He makes way for the both of you. "Come in. Right this way, please." He leads you into some brightly lit hallways, then dark ones. You take Vincent's hand for these, weary someone or something might separate you. The butler finally leaves you in a big, round library. "Master will be with you in a moment." With that, he leaves.

There are so many bookshelves that it makes you wonder how anyone would have time to read all that. "I want to laugh but… it seems all humor has left my body."

"If he brings blood in a teacup, I might." You do laugh then, but stop quickly as you hear footsteps approaching. And as much as you want to get this over with as soon as possible, you still kind of hope it's just the butler with the cups of blood.

But it's not the butler. "Ah, my dear brother and the Re-Animator. I called you Renfield, when really you're more of a Herbert, aren't you? To what do I owe the honor of such esteemed guests?"

He… knows?

Before either of you can speak, he continues. "You think you fooled me that night? I know what it's like to feel one of my beloved brothers die. You were gone. For a few minutes you were gone. And then you were back. What conclusion did you want me to draw other than you died and someone brought you back? And I see you two that night, being all friendly and domestic… it wasn't exactly difficult to put two and two together." He crosses his arms. "Who killed you, by the way? It must have been a powerful hunter of beasts."

Vincent sighs. "It was a girl. I was careless."

"Hm. And where's she?"

He shrugs. "Gone."

"And that's where you come in." He turns towards you, and you quickly avert your eyes, looking down. "Did your hocus pocus and… brought him back. Simple as that."

"That's right."

"Interesting. And how does it work?" He gets closer, and your eyes remain on the floor.

"I… well…"

"Aren't you going to ask what we're doing here, Sebastian?" Vincent is suddenly beside you.

"What do you mean? I was thinking you wanted revenge against this girl, who's apparently so powerful you couldn't do it on your own."

"I couldn't care less about her. But I've run into a certain… predicament. I got silver poisoning."

Sebastian huffs. "What? How? The girl?"

You decide to take that one. "No, it was me. He did it to save me." His eyes are on you. You can feel him, trying to peek into your brain, trying to get in. You don't know if he's just trying to get you to tell the whole story or what, but you do so anyway. "I was dying, so he cut himself with my piercing so I could have some of his blood. But it was a silver earring. And it infected his neck."

"His neck? Why-" He thankfully turns his eyes back to Vincent. "Why didn't you cut your arm? That way all you had to do to heal was cut it off and wait for a new one to grow."

"Because… damn you, Sebastian. Get out of my head, you know it doesn't work."

"I was wondering why you were about to lie to me. I didn't pry much that night out of respect, because it was your home. But you're here now, and you're going to tell me everything. You know, out of respect. And by the way, where is all that power coming from? Because I know you're not that strong."

"It's a spell. A witch made me a potion and I drank it." Well, it's not a lie. "And…" he sighs. "I didn't think it would work anyway. The blood transfusion. So I wanted it at least to have an… intimate moment, at the end."

"Aww, you're so soft it's giving me nausea." You can't imagine how embarrassing this might be for him to admit it. But the one who's blushing is you.

Sebastian examines Vincent's neck wound for a while. "Well, then, here's what I propose. Why don't we cut your head off, Vincent, right below the infected gash. That way a new one can grow, and you'll be all fine and dandy again."

You almost choke at the absurdity of his words. "Are you out of your fucking mind? Absolutely not!" You look him in the eyes, then quickly avert your gaze to the floor.

"Why is it that you're so demure? It doesn't go with that mouth of yours. Are you trying to hide that black eye? Did he do this?" You feel him peering into your head again. When you don't say anything else, he grabs your chin so you'll look at him, but you close your eyes at the last moment. "Tell me!"

It lasts only a second, then he's gone. When you open your eyes, Vincent has Sebastian's arm in his grasp, pushing him against a bookshelf and choking him with his other hand. A couple of people rush into the room, security guards apparently, holding what seems to be silver-studded batons, but you could be wrong. Because they're clearly vampires too. Then you notice they're wearing gloves.

"Down, boys. It's just my little brother being a pest. Oh no, wait. I'm the little brother. I'm always forgetting that." He dismisses them with his unrestrained hand, and Vincent lets go of his throat. "Fine. I was kidding about the decapitation. That would obviously kill you. But I do know a way. Follow me." Vincent releases his arm, and you both follow him. More dark hallways and sets of stairs. Down, always down. 

After a while, you reach what seems to be a laboratory, clean and brightly lit. A vampire sits in a corner, smoking, an IV strapped to his arm. His leg on a chain that goes into the ground. You can't help but ask. "Who's that?"

"That's ah, Turner. Hey, Turner."

'Turner' flips him off. He stops next to a table full of creatures in jars, some of which you have never even seen. "Our sire had the right idea. She wanted to train us, to have enough of us so we could assert our dominance in the world."

"That's what you got out of it? Because to me, it seemed all she wanted to do was feed and fuck."

You look at Vincent, flabbergasted, because it's the first time you hear him using such language. Sebastian just smiles at him. "I guess our relationships were different. You were clearly her boytoy. But I was her soldier. And I intend to honor her legacy."

"She killed Christopher!"

Sebastian frowns. "I thought it was the other way around, Vincent."

Vincent actually growls. "If she hadn't bitten him-"

"He would have died. Didn't you know he was sick?"

"...What?" He's so taken aback that he shrinks a little, shoulders hunching and hands closing around his elbows.

"I found some documents. Medical exams and whatnot. Something to do with his lungs. It's a miracle he lasted that long, actually."

"...You told her to bite him." His voice is so muted you wouldn't have heard him if you weren't standing right beside him.

"I have many more guards down here, so keep your cool, I don't know if I can call them all back fast enough. But it was for his own good. She poisoned you too much with her blood, that's why you couldn't see it."

You take Vincent's hand on both of yours and he looks at you, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. 

"Ours wasn't the only house, you know. She had many others. And I've spoken to some of her other… children."

This time it's Vincent's hand that clutches yours, as if he's trying to hold back from doing something hasty. "Didn't you say you knew a way? To heal the silver infection?"

"We're getting there, we're getting there. Look. All my mad scientists. Dr. Brown, Dr. Doom, Dr. Octavius, Dr. Frankenstein… We've been studying it for a while now." He grabs a jar from a table where all the doctors, which clearly sport name tags with their actual names, are huddled around. 

There is a putrid, rotted hand inside.

"Yeah, that's mine." You immediately look at his arms, but he still has both hands. It's also when you notice he doesn't have claws like Vincent. You wish you had paid attention to Turner's hands. "It got cut off by a silver sword. Then I did that thing I said. I cut the stump further with a regular steel sword, and it grew back, free of poison. That one started necrosing pretty fast, though. How long did you say you cut yourself with the piercing?"

Vincent's still looking at the hand, so you answer him. "About twelve days ago."

"Oh, good, we have time then. That thing took about twenty days to get like that."

"Twenty…" Your hands squeeze Vincent's. "What do we do?"

"It's simple. Didn't you hear me calling all the doctors names? I'm clearly missing one. Dr. West." He looks at you with a smile that is nothing if not nefarious. "So here's the deal. We can't do it. Yet. But… we're close, really close, and with all of you together, I'm sure we can find a cure. And we have a whole week to work on it."

"Okay." You only realize you were staring at him after Vincent pulls your head to his chest. But it's too late. It doesn't make much sense, because you would have accepted anyway. Not that you know what you could possibly bring to the table. You have zero knowledge in anything medical related, or biological… and your head is going numb. You think Vin- who? someone is calling your name, but you can't really say for sure. All you can hear is Sebastian.

*

There's a man strapped to a table. He's really handsome. But pale, too pale. He tries to raise his hand in your direction, but can't due to the straps. And you want to touch him, he makes your heart hurt, and you don't know why. But the voice in your head reminds you that's not what you're supposed to do. You're supposed to collect tissue from his neck, the wound black and festering. It stinks, but you don't care, you just feel so bad for him.

*

You give your own blood too, and you do spells in both creatures and body parts. It doesn't seem to work very well with the body parts, but Franky helps you out with that. He says his name isn't Franky, but that's all you can call him.

*

The pale man is even paler now, and the wound on his neck looks much worse. You think you're crying, but you keep moving towards him, until someone grabs both your arms, and it's only after some struggle that they get you to open your hand, and the scalpel drops to the floor.

*

You're strapped to a table.

*

The black hand moves.

*

The man is gone from the table, but there's a black stain around the area where his neck used to be.

* 

You cry, and more Latin spews from your lips.

*

He's watching you. Watching you sleep. You know that. You know if you open your eyes, you'll see him, and everything will be okay. But you can't open them, it's like they're stitched together. Your mouth feels the same way. But your hands are free. You try to pry them open, but nothing works. Then you reach for your neck and feel something there. It's round. A pendant? 

The owl. The owl and the moon. 

You open your eyes, but there's no one there.

*

You're on a hill, there's a fight going on down there, it seems to be a man and a woman, but you're too far away to tell. Then you realize you've been following him, because you want something from him. You didn't feel anything for him then. You just wanted the one thing. But now you do, and when the girl impales him with the stake, you feel it in your own heart.

"Vincent!"

"Quiet, you're going to wake everyone up."

He's there. He's sitting right there, right beside you. Why isn't he in bed with you? Oh, it's a stretcher, not a bed. You reach to him, but can't move your hands. "Why am I tied up?"

"You were clawing at your mouth and eyes. I did it so you wouldn't hurt yourself." He moves as he speaks, untying the restraints, and the moment he does, your arms lock around him.

"I… I thought you were dead."

He chuckles. "Well, you almost tried to kill me once, but it's okay, I won't hold it against you since you were high out of your mind. Well, high on whatever Sebastian's persuasion is."

"I tried to… wait. Did…" You push him away from you so you can look at his neck. There is nothing, no bandage, no scar. His neck is tantalizing and irresistible and unmarred, just like it was before. "We… we did it?"

He nods. "Sebastian has more knowledge now than he did before. I don't know how bad this could be. But it doesn't matter. Something to worry about some other time. He's gone for now, said we could stay for as long as we wanted, but I wouldn't like another minute in here." You remember very vaguely of your time at the lab. It makes you feel guilty that you could possibly have aided someone's perverse experiments. "Let's go." He starts to get up and pull you with him, but you remain on the stretcher.

"Wait. Shouldn't we do something? How about that Turner guy? Do we release him? Do you think he's using him to… y'know…"

"What? What do you suppose we do? Rescue the poor soul? We don't even know who he is. He could be better off locked away for all we know."

"But… but we… I don't know. Maybe we could try to find out what his plans are? Try to thwart them?"

"Thwart them?" He smiles unamused. "This isn't an espionage movie, and we're no heroes. What we can do is keep an eye out for him, there's no point in acting blindly."

"...You haven't felt it, have you? You said his power doesn't work on you?"

"He has tried it, and I can feel him digging in, but no. None of our powers work on the other. To each other, we're just regular people." He has given up trying to get you to follow him, but hasn't sat back down.

"It's… dangerous. I can still feel it. I can still…" You can hear a voice in your head. StayStayStayStayStay. It's not quite Sebastian's, but it's somewhat similar. It's weaker, but at the same time stronger, because it's making you want to stay.

"I'm sorry." This time, Vincent does sit down beside you. "That you had to go through that. But there's no point in dwelling here anymore. Let's get as far as we can from here."

Stay.

Your head starts to muddle. "I… I have to stay."

He frowns. "What? Why?"

You want to keep helping on the experiments.

"I want to… keep helping on the experiments…"

"What? No, that's insane, why are you…" You don't hear the rest of his words with how loud the voice is..

You have a gift, and you want to share it for the greater good.

"I want to… I… to share my… gift?"

He glowers at you. "Who is inside your head?"

Grace's spell is still in place. This is all you.

"No one, Grace's spell is still in place. This is all me."

He continues glaring at you, and you can only imagine he's trying to get inside your head too. "Tell me the truth."

Your mind gets even muddier, but nothing comes out of your mouth. His blood control has been broken.

Let him go. The truth is you know he's not right for you. And you lied to him, you do in fact want to live in a castle. This one.

"You… we shouldn't be together…You should go. That is the truth. I want... I want to live here." The words feel disgusting in your mouth, and your heart feels like it's physically breaking. It only worsens when you look at his face.

You've never seen him make such a face. Such a betrayed face.

That's right. He'll be okay, you've done your part. Let him go. You don't want to be with him. Time to say goodbye.

You let go of him. "You're okay now, I've done my part, but… I don't want to be with you anymore. Goodbye." Something keeps your tears from falling, but your eyes are burning.

"...I see." He stands up again and starts walking away. That in itself already feels terrible and wrong. But there's something else. Something else that's wrong. 

Not knowing what to do, you grip the pendant with both hands. The grasp of that voice vanishes for a moment and you stand up, walking around slowly, head still jumbled, and you look for him, but he's gone already. Your heart is on the floor. You try to follow, but the place is a maze, hallways that lead nowhere, rooms full of people sleeping. 

Something's wrong.

"Vincent!" 

You'll wake everyone up. You don't care. Finally, you see light up ahead and you follow it, someone must still be up. It's such a bright light. You hope you're not back at the lab. No, the lab lights are white, this one is more yellow, and brighter. Way brighter. And warm. "No." You look at your watch. 5:58 a.m.

You step into the sunlight and see him outside. He's walking away from the castle, closer and closer to where the shadow of it ends and there's nothing but sunlight. "VIN-"

STAY

The pendant touches your hand and you grab it. "NO! FUCK OFF!" You jump out the window, trying to roll as you fall so you won't break anything, and when you look up, he's right there, and so is the sun. "Vincent!"

He turns around just as the sun hits his face, and you try to stumble to your feet, but your legs aren't working, but you have to pull him away, away from the sun, you have to, you have…

But the sun is already shining all over him, and he's turning to dust, getting smaller, vanishing… your heart is turning to dust too, he…

He's kneeling beside you. "What's wrong with you?"

"You… you're okay. You're okay. You're okay. You're… how, how are you okay?"

"I thought you wanted me gone?"

"No! Never! There was something. I don't know. Something in my head. Telling me awful things. Please let's get out of the sun."

His face softens, and he stands up slowly. "Come on."

"I… can't move."

"What? It doesn't seem like it was such a big fall. You're probably just in shock." He tries to pick you up, but fails, then he sits down in the shade of a tree.

"What-"

"Shh. In a moment."

You just nod and watch him. He's not dead, that's all it matters. When clouds cover the sun for a moment, he picks you up, still with a bit of trouble. You think about joking about being too heavy, but there's no mood for that.

Soon you reach the car. You can feel some movement returning to your legs when he puts you in the driver's seat and gets to his side, closing both doors.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I said those things. There was a voice like Sebastian's making me say it. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it. And I'm sorry I tried to kill you."

He watches you for a long time, then rests his forehead on yours. "It's fine. It's probably that thing. He said it was harmless, but… we should really get as far away from here as possible. Are your legs okay now?"

You try to move, and they do, but it still feels too weak. "Not really. But Vincent… it knew about Grace's spell. When I told you it was still in place, it was the voice who reminded me of that. It knows about it… and the spell doesn't work on it."

"I will talk to Sebastian about it. But we are leaving now, although I should warn you. Once again, we might not survive." He picks you up again and basically throws you in the back seat. Then he moves to the driver seat and turns the key, looking at the pedals. "I don't even know which one is the brakes."

"Oh, no." You cover your face with your hands, but the car seems to be moving just fine. "Wait. What thing? And you haven't told me how you haven't… disappeared yet."

"You said you trusted me, right? Then don't ask, you don't want to know. We won't ever have to deal with it again, since we're going far, far away. Where do you want to go? Bucharest?"

"Anywhere, anywhere is fine. Vincent, please."

"I… I can stand it. For a while, at least. I told you there are people with rare powers. I can stand it. Can barely move in it, though, and it hurts. And it makes me powerless for a while. I can feel it burning. I just… don't."

You want to yell. You want to scream on his face. Why didn't he tell you? But you don't. Something in his voice… "Are you embarrassed of it?"

"Of course! It's a weakness, not a power! It doesn't do me any good. When I stepped into it and realized I wasn't burning, I wanted to laugh at first. Then it did start to burn. Smoke actually started to rise from me, and I changed my mind. I dragged myself back to the shadow until I could move. So I suppose if I stay in it long enough…"

You open your mouth then close it again, realizing what he just said. He walked into the sun, willingly. Thinking he would turn to dust.

You don't know what he sees when he looks at you through the rear view mirror, but his voice is soft. "It was a long time ago."

You can't stand being in the back seat anymore. "Pull over." He does so without a word, and your legs are well enough that you can open the back door and walk to the front. You sit beside him, a hard fit, but when he tries to go to the passenger seat, you don't let him. Then you hold him so tight he actually gasps a little. "It's okay." You breathe him in. "You're okay. Everything is okay."

He whispers something in your ear, and you revel in the elation it brings you. "Do you believe me now?"

You take a deep breath, and it takes you so long to exhale that you can't say how long you've been holding it. "Yeah. I love you too. So much you wouldn't believe it."

*

You don't know much about stars, but you can tell the hotel has five of them. The receptionist watches you approach the counter with visible disgust. Then Vincent does his thing, and you grab the keycard.

"There's a jacuzzi! I've always wanted to try it. Can you call room service?"

"Sure. What would you like as your last meal?"

*

It hurts much more than you thought it would, but you try not to squirm too much. You just hold his head in place, fingers splaying in his hair as he sucks the life out of you.

*

Both the pain and the hunger are unbelievable, and he gives you his arm to suck on, warning you it's not going to really ease the pain, only help you heal faster. You black out, and when you wake up, there's someone else in the room. A zombie? No, just a girl. She's holding your knife, and there's a gash in her wrist. "I won't let you get too much. You're not going to kill her." He brings the girl's arm to your mouth and you suck, you couldn't care less if she died, you just want to feed. It tastes good, so good. Delicious. More. More. More.

But he's pulling her away from you, and you whimper, trying to follow. But once again, you're restrained.

"Shh, it's okay. I brought more." You manage to look around, and there's another girl and two boys, all zombie-like in their expressions. You feel loved.

*

Vampires do go to the bathroom. But only number one.

*

"...They don't remember?"

"They remember what I want them to remember. Those two couples? Made a suicide pact all together, but regretted it last minute."

"I… I didn't even care if she lived or died. But I do. I do now. Is she okay?"

"They all are. And it's part of the initial hunger. Next time you'll be aware enough already."

*

You feel more vain than you ever did looking in the mirror. "Huh. I don't think I need makeup anymore."

*

You want to make it special, something you'll both always remember. An idea strikes you, and you drag him to the car. You take off your clothes, staying only in your underwear. "Much more space, no vomit, no sunlight."

The effect is almost immediate… you can see it in his pants. "I'm not sure if any of that would have been enough to stop me, to be honest."

"Ew." He's still watching you voraciously. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

He pounces.

Mouth on yours hungrier than ever before, claws making short work of what little you were wearing. Then he sits back on his seat and pulls you onto his lap. You kiss him just as he enters you, and you moan into his mouth, legs parting to get more of him. Then his teeth are on your neck and his nails all over you. You barely manage to pant your desires. "Harder… More…"

"Which?"

"...All of it."

He makes a feral noise that has you swooning. "Perfect is not nearly a good enough word to describe you."

You look at your arms and almost feel bad for bleeding all over the upholstery. Almost.

He speeds up, hands on your hips gripping so tight as he brings you down on him over and over that you're sure those marks will take longer to heal than the scratches. You die in his arms, the best death of your life, and he follows soon after.

When your breathing starts going back to normal, you kiss his neck and return to your seat so you can smoke, and when you look down at yourself, still panting a little, you can see the scratches have already started to heal. "Aw, man."

He chuckles. "Really? I won't feel bad for you next time, then."

"Oh? And when is next time?"

He's still smiling, gloriously naked and beautiful, and you wonder when was it that he took off his clothes. Then you see his pants are still around his ankles, and his shirt is on the floor of the car, buttons scattered all over. Your dead heart has never beaten harder. "Have mercy, I'm an old man. Give me at least five minutes."

Being a vampire fucks.

"That long? Maybe there's something I can do to help speed up the process." Cigarettes completely gone from your mind, in a moment you're between his legs, once again thankful for such a spacious car, and the gesture alone is enough to get a decent reaction out of him. You don't dawdle too much, or at all, taking him in your mouth as far as you can, almost choking, then going further and further, until he pulls you away.

"Okay, that did it."

You grin, returning to your seat. "Harder."

"...I haven't even started yet."

"Why not?"

Something snaps underneath you. You're pretty sure the poor car seat isn't supposed to recline that fast and without using the handle. Now the car's going to need both a wash and a mechanic.

He bites so hard, it's almost like he wants to turn you again. You moan your appreciation and try to move against him, not that the position helps much. You almost regret not settling for the bed. One of your feet ends up on the ceiling, while the other hits the horn.

"Oops. Do you think someone's gonna come?"

"You and me, hopefully."

You laugh and kiss him again.

*

"Let me try it, I think I can do it."

"Not with that attitude, you can't."

"What?"

"What? The movie we just saw last week? With the green old man? Do or do not, there is no try."

You grin. "Never in a million years did I ever think I'd hear you quoting Star Wars. Alright, I'll do it." You look the realtor in the eyes, focusing hard. Give me the key, all the documents are signed, everything is paid for.

Her eyes go out of focus for a moment, but then she just shakes her head with a frown. "What just-"

Vincent does it with a glance. She hands him the key and leaves.

"Showoff."

He kisses your head. "It's okay, you can try it on the car guy when we go pick it up. It just takes a little practice." The house isn't big, but there's a mantel in the living room, and you place the box with the pendant. It's a little crooked since you had to handle it with a piece of cloth, but it looks good. There's catnip in the garden, which you hope will bring many of your favorite creatures for a visit. There's also a place perfect for an orange tree. You hope it hasn't grown enough that it won't fit in the car. But by the time you decide to go pick it up, Grace tells you it's grown so much it would be dangerous to uproot it. She has a new sapling ready for you on your next visit.

*

Your hand still hurts where the sun touched it. Vincent chides you, but you had to know. You just had to know.

*

"I don't know, guys. It's not the same thing." Grace removes her sarong and spreads it over the sand so she can sit on it.

"Why, just because you can't tan? You can moonbathe, isn't it better? No burnt skin, no need for lotion."

She shrugs. "Moonbathing does make my spells stronger. Alright, where's the picnic basket?"

"Oh, I have it." Tony brings the picnic basket, a beach ball, snorkels, flippers and many other things you had no idea were in the car.

The picnic consists of jello blood cubes, blood popsicles, just plain old blood in a jug of juice and a watermelon. Which was Paul's idea.

"We can hit it with a baseball bat. I saw it in an anime."

"Why, Paul? Why?" Vincent rubs his face.

"For fun, you curmudgeon. Fun. Still know what that is?"

"Fine, but don't blame me if I accidentally hit your head instead." He doesn't, but the watermelon explodes with the first hit, so that's an activity that ends too quickly.

Later when everyone's too tired from playing and it's just the two of you by the fireplace, you can't hide a satisfied smile. It went great, and everybody seemed to have a good time.

"Why the beach, though?" he asks between kisses on your neck and ear.

"Well… it's been a year today. I wanted to celebrate, then I remembered something Grace said once, and I thought, why not, y'know? We're allowed to have fun at the beach or wherever the hell we please. To hell with the sun, who needs that stupid ball of fire."

There has been no news on Sebastian, whatever he's planning, if he is planning, none of you heard a thing. Besides, is it even your job to… what? Stop him? Keep him in line? Defeat him? You snort. If it comes down to it… when the time comes…

"I know what you are thinking." You eye him suspiciously. "No, I haven't secretly had telepathy this whole time, I just know you. And I really don't think you should worry all that much. He's a procrastinator. Whether he plans to gather an army to, I don't know, lead the 21st century vampire uprising against the world or he just wants to increase his harem size, it will take a while either way. And he'll end up doing neither."

"... Harem?"

"I used to be like him, in a way."

"Harem?"

"No!" He laughs and pushes you away, then immediately brings you back. "I looked for someone too, someone who would be by my side. Someone strong, someone… perfect." He takes your face in his hands. "But then you came along and threw a wrench right in the middle of that plan."

"Um… y'know, I think we should try to see if you would survive that decapitation after all." You put your hands around his neck, but the sensation of his pulse under your fingers and the expression in his eyes are enough to assuage you. "Asshole." You kiss his neck and look around. Your friends, something you've never had much of in your life. Grace bathing in the moonlight, even wearing sunglasses (moonglasses?), Paul apparently sleeping while Tony buries him up in the cold sand. Then your eyes return to him. Your lover. The person who hung the moon and the stars. You really couldn't ask for anything more. "I love it, you know? Love this life. Thank you for giving it to me."

He lies down on the sand and pulls you on top of him. "You know, I think that should be my line."

LeEnd

(some notes)

I should say that in my canon Cora can endure the sun because her transformation isn't complete, and to be honest I'm unsure if she defeated the 'curse' by the end or not. And her mother can kinda stand it? idk, her mom's probably a ghoul, who cares about her bleh

(Also they were in Europe all along?? Even though the campers in the film all seemed to be American?? What? Uh... tourists.) But yeah, I know it was filmed in California but it kinda gave me a European feel. Who cares, not important.

Also2 I know I set up some shit with Sebastian and his... thing, whatever that might be, but I don't think there will be a part 3. It's not impossible, but it's highly unlikely. Unless a muse comes and bites me right in the ass

This was all inspired by London After Midnight (the band not the film) and to me they're Vincent's band now. Either Spider and the Fly or Love You to Death could very well be his theme song. Actually no, scratch that. Their entire discography is his theme song 🧛

Part one and this are hands down the most absolutely self-indulgent thing I've ever written in my life. No joke. And there's barely any smut

Thanks for reading.

No, wait, there's more. Eh, just a couple of dialogues that I didn't end up using because things went a different way.

"Y'know, we should have a double date sometime now that we're officially dating and all."

He looks at you as if you've grown a third eye. "Officially? I thought that was settled since I kissed you the first time. Have I not been a proper boyfriend to you after that?"

Well, of course not! crosses your mind, but then you think about it, really think about it. Every word. Every action. Everything he said and did and you thought he wasn't serious. Yes, you realize your mistake. Your big, dumb mistake. Because he has. Ever since that day in the attic he's been so much… well, you wouldn't say nicer, or sweeter but… less of an asshole?

Really? This entire time?

You're about to speak, but then he continues. "We've been looking for a place to live. Together. As… roommates, then?"

"Oh no."

"Your face is really, really red."

You cover said face with both hands. "Shut up! Oh no. I'm so stupid. I'm so, so stupid."

"That's okay." He pulls your hands from your face so he can kiss you. "You can be stupid all you want, I love you regardless."

*

"You kissed my what?"

You can't bear to look at his face. "I don't wanna talk about it."

He ignores you. "Because, I seem to remember you calling me a creep, you, who stalked me for weeks, who watches me sleep…"

"How do you- I mean, uh…"

"And while I was sleeping, you said you kissed my what?"

"I don't want. To talk. About it. It was a slip of the tongue."

"Oh, I'll bet it was."

"Vincent…!"

"It's alright, I don't mind. The creep and the freak. I bet people will have a hard time figuring out who's who."

You can't even be mad at him for that. Because he doesn't even know the worst part.

Okay now it's really the end.

[hiraeth-witch-11]

Into the Unknown

Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: Billy Russo, murderous thoughts, mentioned gun

Word Count: 700ish

“Let me get this straight. You’re from another universe where I exist as a fuckin’ fictional character and you’ve come here to change that story’s endin’? Is that right?”

“Yes, I know it’s far fetched-”

“It’s bullshit is what it is. Prove it. Tell me somethin’ only I would know.”

This was such a bad idea. “I have the feeling you might shoot me if I tell you some of the things I know about you.”

“I promise not to shoot you ‘til I’ve heard you out. How ‘bout that, sweetheart?” This man is so much scarier in real life. He’s grinning like a shark.

“I know about Arthur and how you hate being called pretty and your addict mom and Project Cerberus and Agent Orange and Kandahar and what happened to Frank Castle’s family.”

“No shit.” He gives a surprised bark of a laugh. “You were right, that does sound like somethin’ I would shoot you for. Maybe you’re just a spy.”

“Why the fuck would a spy come here unarmed with this sorta reasoning? I have some things on my phone that might help, can I reach for it?”

Billy nods and you pull out your phone. It’s no longer connected to your world, but everything you had open on it is still open. Including Pinterest with quite a few of Billy Russo’s pictures, AO3, and Tumblr. You pull up the pictures first. Ones from when he was overseas and ones of Rawlins.

“How the fuck do you have this?” He snatches the phone from you and starts scrolling.

“I told you. In my world, you are a TV show character. These are from that show and look, these are stories people made based off that show.” You show him a couple tabs left open on your phone, thankfully with some of the more tame fanfics.

“How does it end? My story?” He asks

“It doesn’t end well. But, I want to help. I want to change it.”

“Why? Say I believe all this,” he gestures to your phone and you. “Why would you help me knowing what you know?”

“You’ve had a shit life and done some terrible things, but I think even someone like you deserves someone purely on their side.”

“I’m guessin’ I wasn’t the hero of your show.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“Then who was?”

You hesitate. 

“I’m not going to shoot you, sweetheart.”

“I think you’re going to be upset if I tell you some of the details.”

“Tell me.”

“Frank Castle, he’s the protagonist.”

“And what role do I play? I don’t have a good ending and I'm not the hero. What am I then?”

“You know what you did, Billy. What do you think?” Maybe antagonizing the homicidal narcissistic sociopath isn’t a good idea.

“I think it’s in your best interest to tell me everything you know, now,” he growls and you try not to shrink backwards.

You shake your head, standing your ground. “You’ll kill me if I do that. I’m more useful to you alive, a lot of things happen or will happen in New York that you don’t know about. Besides, it’s more than just what I know, I’ve seen enough to be able to read some of these people. I can help even when things change.”

He cocks his head at you and you know him well enough to see him thinking about killing you, or torturing and then killing you. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. Maybe you should have tried to find Frank and spin things in a way to keep Billy alive. Maybe you should have gone to any of the number of vigilantes in the city. But you had appeared in front of Anvil. You knew you had the chance to change things and you took it. Hell, maybe you are just dreaming and if he kills you, you’ll wake up.

“I’ll deal with you later, I have a meeting to get to. If you really are on my side, you will wait here and not touch anything until I get back. Am I clear?”

“Yes,” you say. Before he leaves, you blurt out just to cover your bases, “Don’t trust Rawlins. He just drags you into messes and makes you clean up after him. He’s more likely to kill you than help you if he thinks you’re a loose end.”

“I know, sweetheart, but thanks for the concern.” Billy smiles at you, without murder in his eyes this time, and leaves you alone in his office, wondering if you’ve made the right call.

@kayhi808

[mae-cohl3]

Unfinished The Passenger Fic - Part 1

The bones of a story really

I don't usually write fics (this is one of my first real tries), but this movie made me want to try.

Let me know what you think.

-R-

Randy sat looking at his hands. His nail beds are an urgent sort of red and the skin puffy from endless biting. It’s starting to hurt, but he can’t stop.

The motel room is silent and looks uninhabited, save for their shared backpack on the floor and Randy hunched over on the bed.

He can feel Benson, even when he’s not in the room. He hates that he doesn’t really mind it — the cold tingles down his back, the stone sinking deeper into his stomach, and the heat filling his cheeks. The feeling of Benson’s calloused hand grasping his face is ever present. He can still feel the heat of the large hand swiping away the tears from his cheek and blurry eyes. It’s become ingrained in his mind.

Is liking Beson even an option? Is like even the right word? Why does it feel like I do? Am I fucking crazy? I mean he’s out of his mind, so maybe it’s the only way I could feel this way about him.

Heavy footsteps sound from outside the worn down motel door. Randy wants to sink into the floor. No, he wants to run into Benson’s arms and hold tight. Maybe he  wants to beg him to go home, to be set free. God, no, he wants to taste his mouth.

Fuck just kill me already.

The door opens and Beson walks inside, his movement slow like usual, as if every step is thought out and calculated. He moves like a shark conserving its energy. Randy stays still and looks up at Benson through his sparse lashes, his hands gripping the shitty motel quilt like it’ll save him. From what, he’s got an idea — the cold mouth of a shotgun pressed to his temple.

“Pack up ur shit kid, we gotta go.”

Randy’s breath hitches in his throat. “Wh-where are we going?”

We. It’s become “we” now.

Benson’s eyes sharpen. He opens his mouth to speak, closes it and frowns. He looks frustrated, it’s not obvious whether it is with himself or Randy. “ I don’t fucking know Randy, just get ur ass up and moving.” 

——-

A silence fills the air, one that slithers beneath Randy's skin and grinds against his bones.

How much longer do I have?

The old station wagon shook with every slight jerk of Benson’s hand on the steering wheel. Randy sat hunched over in the passenger seat. His head rested on the window, his body pressed against the door as if hoping that it would consume his form. 

“I can hear your thoughts from here Randy.” Benson tilted his head towards Randy’s hunched form. The silence that followed felt like an offer, an offer to speak. Randy had no idea what to say. He sat for a moment, pulling at the neck of his too large t-shirt, one formerly belonging to Benson.

-B-

Benson gave Randy a quick once over, taking notice of how the boy shivered as the wind from the open window blew onto him. The clothes Randy wore didn’t do much to hold against the biting wind. The shirt hung off the boy’s neck, showing a bony clavicle and even the pants he wore seemed to hang off his hips. Benson tried to damper the thought, file it away in a cabinet deep within his mind, but he couldn’t — he liked the way Randy looked in his clothes, with his tear stained eyes, and slight pout. The clothes seemed to swallow the boy, just like he wished that he could do.

He flicked his cigarette out the window and shut it with the rusted hand crank, hoping to give the boy some relief from the chill.  A sort of unspoken apology.

Sorry for kidnapping you. Sorry for scaring you. Sorry for hurting you. Sorry for wanting you…

He didn’t know how to proceed, but he knew that he wanted Randy by his side. He’d always kept an eye on the boy when they still worked together. At first it was just a passing glance at the pretty boy who seemed far too fragile for their rural Louisiana town. But then he started getting bullied at work, and Benson couldn’t stop himself from watching as the boy stared at his aggressor with tear filled eyes. The tears never fell, they sat steadily on his bottom lids. But now Benson has seen those tears be shed, as he was the root cause of the boy’s cries of sadness and terror. Seeing the boy’s tear filled face and frozen form in response to the murders of his manager and coworkers had been the moment Benson knew that the boy would either be his everything or his end.

Randy didn’t respond to him, but Benson understood. The boy was scared, most likely thinking that he was next in Benson’s list of murders and attacks. This hurt Benson, but he’d hurt the boy and scared him senseless in the last few days. He didn’t deserve the sound of Randy’s shaking voice, but he craved it. He just needed to get them away from that town and those people, somewhere he could show Randy a better version of himself. 

After he beat his former teacher to near death, they fled, or at least Benson made them leave town. They were on the run. Maybe this (forced proximity) would move the boy towards warming up to him, he could become his friend rather than his forced passenger. Maybe, maybe they could become more.

I want more, no, I need more.

[chronicallyonlinewriter]

Chapter 15 of As Long as You Follow is done. I still need to edit a bit, so I won't post until tomorrow (and if not tomorrow, no later than Monday; I'm going to be out of town all weekend) but the word count as of right now is at 30,122, so hopefully that makes up for it taking longer to get this chapter out than I said it would. Have a snippet (beware - spoilers):

It was as though the universe had slowed itself, just for her. The clouds hung low, the sunrise reduced to a muted struggle between crimson and encroaching gray. The air was now warm on her skin, dizzying against the bite of the ocean, every wave that gently lapped against her chest bringing with it fresh goosebumps. She drew her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, staring out at the horizon – at nothing, really, the fog and the haze threatening to envelope her wholly. 

For a fleeting instant, a blissful numbness took hold. The world receded, the seagulls' cries and the soft hiss of the waves fading into the background. She felt weightless, adrift in a sea of muted gray where even the burden of her thoughts seemed to dissolve. She clung to it desperately, this ephemeral nothingness; a wall that was nevertheless crumbling against the realization that it was all over – she was done; that her life was her own now, her future, once a terrifying void, now stretching in front of her as infinite and uncertain as the hazy fusion of ocean and sky.

It felt impossible that it should all come to an end here – quietly, slowly, everything that had lead her to this point still a deafening scream in her memories; dancing with Riley in a yellow glow, the weight of the gun in Ellie’s hand; Marlene, unwavering and unflinching, looking Ellie right in the eye as she sent her off to her death; Sam’s guttural shrieks as he scratched and clawed at her skin, the utter determination on Henry’s face when he pulled the trigger for the last time; Joel, ashen and still on that dirty mattress, his skin burning to the touch – his eyes searing into her in the rearview mirror, his lies, his love; David, framed by flames, ‘There’s no fear in love,’ Benny, melted to her knees and screaming on the church altar, her hands stained with her father’s blood –

– Tommy’s hands, usually steady but now trembling slightly, sweeping her hair out of her eyes because she couldn’t, her arms full of needles and tubes, his voice reminding her over and over again, ‘You don’t gotta do this – no one is gonna make you do this – we can wait –’ because he, like most people, didn’t understand that she’d never had a real choice – that this was always what she was meant to do, this mission that had been thrust upon her at age fourteen quickly becoming her life’s purpose. Now, at twenty-one, it was finally complete.

And she had no idea what came next.

“Ellie!”

She turned, startled, shifting on her hip so she could look back at the shore – to Joel, his edges undefined in the haze, hands fisted on his hips. He waved an arm at her, gesturing impatiently for her to return to dry land. She grinned, shaking her head – only because she knew how much it would irk him, which, judging from his deepening frown, it clearly did. "You tryin' to get eaten by a shark?" he called out, his voice laced with mock concern – and she laughed, the sound almost seeming to echo back at her in stillness and fog; and oh, did it feel good to fill her lungs with salty air and exhale it with that laugh. She sank her feet deeper into the submerged sand, digging her toes in to anchor herself against the playful tug of the waves.

[peakyswritings]

1.5K CELEBRATION

Requested by: @call-sign-shark

Warning: mentions of violence, guns

LILITH

Arthur Shelby was a sinner, and he had earned his place in Hell a long time ago. He was doomed, he had made his peace with that. He lived day by day just waiting for the time the Devil would call him and take him right where he belonged. Or at least, that was until he met her. She was sitting in a church, a beam of light shining through the stained glass caressed her face. Hands clasped, eyes closed.

Ever since that day, even a sinner like him could imagine how Heaven would feel like. He got a taste of it every time her lips touched his, every time he buried his nose in her hair, her sweet scent clouding his mind, every time she spoke words like honey in his ear.

She had the heart of a saint and the beauty of a fallen angel. The mere sight of her had him wanting to fall to his knees and repent for every sin he had ever committed. His guardian, his saving grace.

She had kindled a flame to lead him through the darkness, to bring clarity into his wretched mind. She had taken his bloody hands in hers, without worrying that the blood might stain her too. She had looked into the abyss of his heart, but she hadn’t run away from the darkness. She had dived right into it.

Pure as she was, she had chosen to stay by his side, and guide him towards salvation.

But he was too blinded by her light to notice the shadow creeping up behind her. It was always there, silently following every step, every movement. He was too blinded to notice the way her eyes darkened whenever she thought no one was there to see her. He was too blinded to notice the way she was always observing, always scheming, always plotting.

He had failed to realise that she, too, was full of anger. The kind of anger that wouldn’t pass with time, the kind that demanded to be seen. To explode. It was building up inside of her day after day, hour after hour, minute after minute. And now she had the chance to let it out, because she had him right where she wanted him.

But Arthur was blind. He had been blinded by her light, by her love. By hope. So when he found himself at the end of her gun, the words caught in his throat. She loved the fear in his eyes, he could see it. He had felt the very same a hundred times, but he would never have thought her capable of such emotions.

The piece of paper he was holding slipped from his hand, slowly falling to the ground. The black hand laid between them, ominous and threatening, imbued with betrayal.

“Jane-”

“That is not my name.” She interrupted him, her voice like venom. “Do you wanna guess my real name?”

Arthur could not escape from the painful and ugly truth any longer. She had fooled him. She had fooled everyone.

“(Y/n) Changretta.” She cocked her gun, eyes filled with hatred. “You killed my father, Arthur Shelby.”

[frostgears]

We Who Are Far From Home, ch. 7: Bree 5

Hair loose, wearing nothing but a blouse, Bree bounced up and down on her toes, recalibrating herself, feeling the way this body moved. She was far more Coda's work now than Nost's or her own. But Coda's work was always good. Light. Fast. Really absurd quality for domestic automatons, if not quite up to the standards of a mage who made of herself a war machine.

She thought that it wasn't Lyric's body that stopped it from being the divine hero of the Kingdom. Not that she could really blame it. It found another role and fit perfectly into it and she couldn't tell herself now that she wasn't the right doll for the job after all…

Focus, Bree. Collect those thoughts and line them up, biggest to smallest. Goal: protect the Kingdom. Strategic objective: head off the next war. Tactical objective: deny the Crimson Fist their kill. Cover story: doll maid. Next step: put on the damn dress.

She held it up, loosened the ties, pulled the thing over her head. Felt weird. She checked the mirror. It was the wrong way around and now her blouse was bunched up. She pulled it off again, smoothed the blouse, rotated the dress, shrugged herself back into it, froze.

"Are you done in there?" Zai shouted through the dressing room's door. "I need a uniform too!"

"I'm. Uh." She shouldn't have looked in the mirror. That had been a mistake. The dress, even the body, they could have been a costume, but now they were her. First look: a slim brunette, not that different from the body she was born in, but terminally mousy and wan. Second look: she refocused, saw hard angles and precise curves and ball joints, but not the ball joints she was used to—

"Not waiting any longer." Zai barged in. The spy rustled through the small closet next to the mirror, pulled a warm brown and decorously ruffled dress the near-twin of Bree's, hung it on a hook as she began hunting for undergarments. "Something wrong?"

"Everything," Bree said, miserably.

"No. Be specific."

"I can't! It's my whole damn me!"

"Doesn't matter. Job to do. Look the part, worry about the rest on your own time." She flicked calm dark eyes over Bree, sniffed. "Also, you forgot your corset, and your petti, and," she gestured to the cabinet full of various compact metal horrors on the other side of the mirror, "about half of what you need for the real job."

Zai undid the neck-string of her nightdress and dropped it to her feet with a shrug. She dismissed her boxers with a tug of thumb over hip and let those fall to the floor on top of the nightdress, then kicked the whole pile into a laundry bin with an apparently practiced foot.

"Take all that off. Get dressed with me, do exactly what I do, and then at least blending won't be a problem."

Bree kept staring at herself, but it was a small room, with a large mirror.

Zai took it otherwise, smirking. "Nothing you haven't seen before, lady-killer. Come on. Fresh panties. Catch," she said, tossing Bree a pair from an open drawer.

Bree boggled from the sheer absurdity of it. "I don't need panties, Zai. I don't piss, I don't sweat, I don't have a period, I don't even get wet unless my Owner…" — and that was a thing that surfaced unpleasantly like a shark in a hot spring; when did she start thinking that word with a capital O — "…presses a button for it."

Zai glared. "Aren't we fancy. Put your damn panties on, because Lady Emmerline's maidservants don't go around not wearing underwear, dolls or not."

"Fine!" She pulled them on.

"Good. Stay with me. Stockings. Thigh holsters, both sides, left side steel, right side alkalium, three blades each, well clear of the stockings and don't forget which metal's where. Slip. Braided cable whip. Wear that looped around your waist, you'll pull the petti up under it, dress has a buttoned flap in each hip pocket for when you need to pull it out…"

Bree dutifully followed Zai's directions, putting each undergarment and each weapon on as Zai did the same.

"Corset. Actually, first, here, help me with mine. Just pull this a little tighter and tie it off. Okay, good, tight enough. Petticoat. Hand me that back scabbard, and one of those short swords. And the tube next to it."

"What's that?"

"Blowgun. Not every problem is nice enough to happen inside throwing knife range, and there's no way I could fit an actual bow in this and still be able to bend. No point you taking one, though, you barely have lungs." Zai checked herself approvingly in the mirror, white foundation garments strapped over with dark leather and metal, then over at Bree. "Want a slingshot or something?"

"Oh! No. I mean yes. I mean, I have one already. Spring-driven pellet-thrower. Nost put it in yesterday when she added the seals." Bree tapped the port cover in her left palm. "It's no tethered-harpoon cannon, but it's something."

"You still have the soulcatcher too," Zai pointed out.

"Yeah, without the mycelial conduits or the mana furnace that made it work halfway usefully in my usual body. It's one shot and it won't work on anyone healthy."

"It's one shot that they won't expect," the spy said, as if dealing with a particularly dim student. She started wriggling into the uniform dress, pausing a few times to make sure her personal arsenal didn't snag. "Use everything you can get. What's left in the cabinet?"

Bree prodded a heavy waxed twill bag on the bottom shelf. "Just the showstopper dust."

"Give me two of the small bags. I don't have your arm strength. You take the big ones."

"Where am I meant to put these?" Bree said, her un-tweaked voice box completely failing to convey any of the frustration she felt. Had her old body really been this small and weaponless? How had she gotten anything done?

She looked at herself in the mirror. Slim brunette, mousy and wan. Dress fit, at least, now that she had it on properly. Easy to move in. Easy to perform her household duties — what household, Bree, you're here to stop an assassination — cooking, cleaning, serving drinks and snacks to her Owner and her Owner's guests, perhaps learning to sew from Zai in her downtime. Zai had made both sets of uniforms; she was quite the seamstress, a talented role model…

Bree. Bree what the fuck. You're not really a maid any more than Zai is. That's just the bindings talking.

An idea. Bree unbuttoned the top two buttons of her crisp white blouse and reached inside. "Zai," she asked, "opinions?"

"Hm. If you can pop those buttons quickly, should be fine. Turn sideways," Zai said thoughtfully, then, "Tighten the corset, you're sagging. Wait, faster if I do it." The spy's hands worked deftly behind Bree's back. "Better."

Bree faced the mirror again. Slim brunette, mousy and wan, dress fitted very closely over a carefully concealed set of weapons capped off by what had to be a good four or five kilos of carefully packaged showstopper dust padding out her corset.

"Yes," she whispered. "Better."

"Your usual body doesn't have those," her fellow "maid" pointed out. "More like the one before this one?"

"Nah, never really had much to work with there. I think… it's just that I can change something. Back in the Academy, new hair color every month, new piercing every year, little optical glamors going more often than not. But just now, hells, I was starting to think that all this was just my Owner's body. The service compulsions had me pretty hard."

Zai's face flickered with surprise, confusion, disgust.

"Is this going to be a problem, Bree?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

"You beat them before."

"Yeah."

"You built the compulsions."

"I built part of them. Joint effort, me and Coda."

"You took orders pretty well, just now."

"Yes. That helped. A lot. Thank you. I feel like I'll be okay getting dressed and gearing up tomorrow morning, it's just, the mirror was a surprise–"

"An order for you, then," Zai said, voice hard. "You think you can't do this, any time, you tell me, we scrub, we get out. You are the strongest of us, even in that body. We need you thinking like you. I am not," she added, "losing the irreplaceable Bree the Blessed, Savior of the Summer Capital, Hero of the Arbor Pass, Secret Shield of the Kingdom, to some back-alley doll sorcery gone wrong because we tried to pull an undercover job and she went weird on me. We can leave. Tell me and we will. That's an order."

"Yes, Zai, I will tell you," she blurted, instantly, and knew that she would.

A bell tingled outside the servants' quarters.

"Where are my lovely handmaidens, then?" Emmerline called, her voice booming and jovial.

The sheer Emmerline of the moment broke something's horrible hold on her. "She's going to be absolutely insufferable with that thing for the entire time we're here," Bree said.

"That's the most normal sentence I've heard you say all morning," Zai muttered. "And there are how many like you? Wish the Service had kept an eye on this Coda."

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