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feyhunter78 · 1 year ago

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Chapter Seventeen - You're ignoring him, and it's driving him insane, luckily fate is on his side and Todd slips up.

Ch 18

TW: Todd is very mean to y/n, and Miguel fucks him up, like it's a bit graphic

You’re avoiding him, it’s been a week now, it’s obvious. You cling to Janey, Gladys, to fucking Dave, to anyone who isn’t him. You even ate lunch with Gladys. He hates Gladys. She’s a kind enough old woman, but her crucifix blinds him, and she hugs him so tightly it burns him through his clothes. And now she’s stealing you from him, wrapping you in a bubble of silver and well-meaning that keeps him from even talking to you.

Perhaps he had gone too far, or you’d been awake when he pawed at you like an animal unable to overcome his base instincts. But you showed no signs of awareness, you had curled into him, basked in his touch, your mind betrayed no thoughts of fear or deception. But now? Now you were closed to him, he didn’t think it possible, but you had unknowingly shut him out, and what little glimpses he was able to pry free were of the mundane. You forgot to get more paper towels at the grocery store, your feet hurt, you wanted some candy you randomly remembered from your youth.

“Y/N, wait up.” He calls down the hall, clipboard in hand, probing at your mind as you turned on your heel.

“Do you need help with something?” You ask him, tone perfectly pleasant, measured, polite.

He smiles, a winning, megawatt smile that he knows makes your heart flip. “I wanted to ask you the same thing.”

No reaction, you glance at your own clipboard then over his shoulder. “We’re really swamped today, I think we should each handle our own cases, it’ll get the work done faster.”

He steps closer, and you take a slight step back. “True, but you know that they say, many hands make light work.”

“They also say too many cooks spoil the broth.” You tell him, holding your clipboard in front of you like a shield.

Miguel steps back, giving you space, hand going to his neck sheepishly, he can’t read you, your mind is a wall, and his thoughts are bouncing off it so pathetically he wants to scream. “Did I do something? If I did, I apologize, I never meant to—"

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got it.” You cut him off gently, giving him a small smile. It’s a pale imitation of your normal radiance, and he feels cold, covered in grave dirt clawing his way up for air again.

“Of course, I’ll see you around?” He tries, fighting the urge to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness.

“We’re swamped, Miguel.” You say noncommittally, already heading towards the lab.

Miguel corners Janey in the kitchen, sliding her an extra bag of chips as a bribe.

“Hey Miguel, what’s up?” She asks, taking the chips and opening them.

“Is everything okay with Y/N?”

Janey chews thoughtfully. “Have you asked her if everything’s okay?”

“I tried; she’s avoiding me.”

“You think she’s avoiding you.”

“I know she is.” He says flatly, casting his gaze around the abandoned kitchen.

“Look, Miguel, breakups are hard enough as is, but when your ex is psycho and keeps finding ways to contact you, that makes it even worse.” She says, pursing her lips, disdain for Todd rolling off her in waves.

“He’s been contacting her?” He’s going to kill Todd, rip him limb from limb and leave them for the beasts to feed upon.

“Yeah, he goes between begging to get back with her and bitching her out.” She rolls her eyes. “Small dick energy, is such an ick.”

Miguel nods, though he’s not entirely sure what she means by that. Slang comes and goes so quickly, he never learns what it means until it’s too late, but he can make an educated guess for this one.

“Someone should just kill him or something.” Janey mumbles.

Someone should.

Two weeks later, he can’t believe his luck. Truly, the gods have finally blessed him because there’s Todd, standing by your car, arms crossed, a face like thunder. Miguel’s been done with work for hours, but he can’t leave until you do, can’t let you walk to your car alone in the dark without at least being within earshot. You two are one of the few people left tonight, like most nights, and the others are the night cleaning crew who put their headphones on and get to work. But now Todd is here, and you, sweet, beautiful, are still inside finishing up a report, which means he has Todd all to himself.

It’s pathetic, the way Todd all but cowers than attempt to puff out his chest, chin tilting up in defiance when he approaches. “Miguel, right? Y/N’s friend who’s got a crush on her.”

“Todd right, Y/N’s ex who cheated on her?” Miguel says, a smirk toying at his lips at the way Todd bristles.

“That’s in the past. Now that I’ve finally got her to agree to talk, she’ll see she was overreacting and run back to me.”

He can’t tell if Todd is incredibly arrogant, or incredibly stupid.

“Mind if I stay and watch?” Miguel asks, leaning against your car.

Your figure appears silhouetted by the light streaming out of the morgue’s back entrance. You’re still a good ways away, looking over your shoulder, probably wishing the night crew good night on your way out.

“You a masochist or something? Want to watch as she turns you down for me?” Todd snickers.

“Only a fool would choose you over me. I am a Duke, wealthy, powerful and you, you are nothing but a merchant’s bastard. Why would she ever love you?”

Miguel remembered when Todderick said that to him, spat in his face and had his men tear apart his shop. His consolation for the damaged goods had been the way you sat in his lap so prettily and cleaned his face with your own handkerchief, tears in your eyes as you apologized for Todderick’s behavior. He had kissed away your tears and ran his fingertips down your sides, exploring the intricate design of your gown, gazing at you in wonder.

You, who came from great wealth. A highborn lady bred to marry someone such as Todderick had rushed to his side as soon as you heard the news. You who attended to him so carefully, who reaffirmed your love for him over and over again, pleading with him to ignore Todderick’s words. He was successful, his shop did well, but the circumstance of his birth was one of shame, he could not escape that fact. You did not care though, you loved him despite the facts.

“Something like that.” Miguel drawls, raising a hand in greeting when you draw near.

“Todd? Miguel? What are you guys doing?” You ask, holding your belongings close to your chest, eyes nervously darting around looking for an escape route.

Your thoughts are loud now, you’re too tired to conceal them, whether consciously or not, and he wishes they weren’t. You’ve gone to worst case scenarios first. They’re here to hurt you, to take revenge for the upset you’ve caused them, and you know you won’t be able to fight them off.

He feels the urge to vomit. He would never, could never harm you, nor force himself upon you, and to think the thought would ever enter your mind? Born of fear or not, he wishes he was cursed to die by the sun so he could chain himself to a tree and let the morning rays set him aflame.

He purposely makes his voice calm, soothing, adjusts his posture until he feels he’s as nonthreatening as he can be. “I was heading home and saw Todd by your car. I just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

You believe him, even if he couldn’t read your mind he sees it in your face, in the way you shift your weight ever so slightly towards him.

“You said we could talk, I’m here to talk.” Todd says, spreading his arms wide.

Your eyes widen in disbelief. “I meant at a coffee shop, or a public park, not my work parking lot.”

Todd takes a step forward, Miguel watches him, alert, ready to grab him if needed. “Come on, don’t be like this.”

Miguel bites back a laugh. Like what? You’ll say, all angry and defensive.

“Like what?” You snap, just like he thought you would.

“Look, I know you still believe what you saw in the video, and I’ve accepted that I can’t change your mind, but I miss you.”

“So?”

“So, I think we can talk, and you know, there are some things you need to change for this to work but—”

“I need to change? Motherfucker, you cheated on me.” You laugh, the sound is short, bitter, piercing.

“No, I didn’t you just believe I did.”

“You’re fucking gaslighting me, again. Do you think I’m stupid?” Your eyes snap to Miguel’s burning with fury, searching for validation that you’re not crazy, that you saw what you saw.

He nods, pushing off your car and pulling himself up to his full height.

“I didn’t say that, you just don’t understand deep fakes, and what they can do with AI, it’s crazy, seriously, once we’re back together I’ll have to tell you all about it.” Todd says, reaching out for your shoulder.

Miguel clenches and unclenches his hands, eyes on you, burrowing into your own, waiting for you to do something, anything.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You say, pushing Todd’s hand away before it can land.

“You’re such a bitch.”

Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

Todd throws his hands up in surrender. “There, I said it. You’re a bitch y/n, a frigid bitch. A waste of my fucking time, a damn burden that I’m finally free of. Now I can go fuck somebody who isn’t broken.”

Your breath catches in your throat, tears welling in your eyes, and Miguel sees red.

I wish he’d just fucking die. Your thoughts are miserable and loud, and it is all Miguel needs to act.

He lunges, slamming Todd into your car, the metal creaking under the force of the blow.

“Y/N, get in my car, close your eyes.” He growls, not even looking over his shoulder as he tosses you his car keys. He’s parked on the other side of the lot, and he hears your frantic footsteps dart off in that direction.

“What the fuck is wrong with you.” Todd wheezes, panic bright in his eyes.

He doesn’t answer, his fist slamming into Todd’s jaw over and over again, hand bloodied, the crack of bones and teeth along with the rasps of breath from Todd’s punctured lung fill the air.

“Stop, stop, shit, please, dude, fucking roid rage ass, if I die, you’re going to jail.” Todd coughs out, one eye swollen shut.

Miguel laughs, fangs elongating, claws digging into Todd’s skin.

Todd’s one open eye widens. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.”

“You didn’t listen, Todderick; I swore I’d kill you if you ever hurt y/n. Now, perhaps I did not make myself painfully clear, but actions have consequences. You made my wife cry, so now I am going to kill you.”

Miguel grabs Todd’s jaw, wrenching it closed as he bites down, ripping his throat out in one clean motion before spitting it out onto the pavement. It’s the same with his limbs, letting them fall to the ground until there’s nothing but a mess of flesh and bone. It’s quick work, his breathing heavy as he tosses Todd’s mangled body into the woods, near a wolf’s den he spotted months before. The wolves will eat well, and he has satiated his need for revenge.

It will rain tonight, the storm will wash away the blood, no one will notice, he’s killed before, they never notice.

TL: @obi-mom-kenobi, @poutysprouty, @oharasfilipinawife, @laysmt, @cicithemess, @unabashedcroissanttreefan, @lynxslokley, @thedevax, @generalkenobitrash, @keiva1000, @wilmontana987, @caslistener, @lotionlamp, @chrishy973, @havkjhdecs, @nyctophilic0vitnir

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #morgue miguel #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #vamp!au #vamp!miguel #vampire!miguel o'hara

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lacedinweb22 · 1 year ago

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Seven Minutes in Heaven ♱☽🦇☾♱

Miguel O'Hara x reader ♱ (A Halloween special) Vampire Next Door (ch.7) prev part nsfw 18+

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

There’s a knock at your door. You fix your hair in the mirror then rush to leave.

There he is,

dressed up as a vampire.

He’s wearing a beautiful vintage, tailored suit. His waves are tamed back. He has a bit of fake blood dripping from his bottom lip to his jaw then down to his neck. He really committed to the part.

You discussed costume ideas a few days before the party. You came up with the idea of dressing up as gothic style vampires; you’d been watching vampire romances all week, though you left that part out. Miguel was hesitant at first, said it would be too flashy, but after you showed him your pinterest board, and some whining and convincing, he agreed.

You’ve got the look down: a long, black vintage dress, fake blood around your lips, chin, and down your arms, jewelry adorning your collarbones, and fangs you’ve glued onto your canines.

Your dress hugs you in all the right places. Your bust is bursting, practically spilling out of the bodice. It accentuates your curves, tightly hugging your waist and hips. You look and you feel the best you’ve felt in a really long time.

Seeing Miguel like this, at your door, makes the butterflies in your stomach go wild. You never thought he’d see you like this, so grown up, blossomed, and beautiful. And you never thought you’d see him like this.

Your eyes meet, then part, as they explore each other’s figures. He quickly looks back up, keeping a straight face, like he didn’t just gulp at the sight of your curves.

“This hot vamp look really suits you.”

“Hot?”

He furrows his brows and smiles, exposing his fangs, as he slides a hand over his waves.

“Wait, your fangs… I’m impressed.”

“A vampire needs a good pair of fangs. I’m not an idiot.”

“I’m learning that…” you mutter looking him up and down.

****

Miguel introduces you to your floor neighbors, in a way that makes you feel like you're his. You look like you belong to each other, but you push those thoughts away. He was kind enough to welcome you and introduce you to his friends. You’re neighbors. Friendly neighbors.

Your neighbors welcome you, you have multiple small-talk conversations, and most of them ask how you know Miguel. You both say you’re neighbors who’ve just met a few days ago. You’re both liars.

Alicia, the host of the party, calls him out for not attending more of their get-togethers, and he promises he’ll come out more often, as he turns to look at you.

You all start the night off with one shot of tequila then disperse through her apartment.

You and Alicia click, as Miguel stands by sipping at a mixed something, listening, and secretly laughing at your tangents.

After a bit, you both end up alone at the kitchen counter.

“I think I want to drink a lot tonight. I need it.”

He nods slowly, trying to read your face as he sips his drink.

“If that’s what you want, okay. I’ll drink with you.”

He pours you another shot. You cheers then both down it. You wince at the aftertaste, then look up at an unfazed Miguel.

The music progressively gets louder as the apartment becomes more full. You move to the rhythm, barely dancing, not drunk enough to let him witness it. Miguel smiles, sipping at his drink, leaning against the counter.

“You know what? You’re like four times my size. You’re going to need to drink four times what I drink to feel anything,” you slur, clinging onto his wrist for balance.

“Mhmm, okay,” he chuckles, looking down at your hand on his wrist. You’re too tipsy to pull away. His warm skin feels too good, you feel glued to him. He smiles, pouring two more shots into a red cup.

He drinks, lifting his chin up, his jawline advertised as he swallows the hard liquor.

“It’s been thirty minutes. I want another.” You slide your shot glass to him.

He grabs the liter of strawberry soda on the counter and starts to pour it into a red cup.

“This should help with the taste.”

He adds a shot into the soda.

“So kind, such a gentleman,” you slur, taking the drink from his hand.

“Truth or dare!” one of your neighbors yell. Everyone gathers, drunk and stumbling to sit on the floor and on the couch, forming a circle in the living room.

After half of the circle takes their turn, it’s your turn.

“Truth or dare,” Alicia asks you.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to play seven minutes in heaven with Miguel,” she shrugs.

“Seven minutes– Is this fucking high school?” Miguel mutters rolling his eyes.

“Okay, Y/N, sorry. You’re going to have to take another shot.”

You’re fucked up. Another shot is going to destroy you.

“Shut up, okay? Mierda. Come on, Y/N,” he mutters as he stands up. He reaches both hands down to you, then helps you up. You stumble, as he grabs your hand and leads you to the closet down the hallway.

You both enter the closet; Miguel leaves the door open a crack, allowing the purple light to illuminate the side of his face. The speakers begin to blast music again in the living room. It bleeds into the dark closet.

You laugh at how drunk you are, and at the situation, then look up at Miguel. His concern is obvious, but it fades a bit when your eyes meet.

“I was too sober to say it earlier, but you look… divine,” he confesses.

“Wow, that’s… you can’t do that to me. Not now,” you laugh, looking down, shaking your head. You avoid eye contact.

You’ve dreamt about moments like this since university. About being this close to him, about him saying romantic things like this, but you’re drunk, and you don’t believe him.

“I mean it,” he adds, leaning down to catch your eyes.

“You look really good too. So handsome,” you breathe out. You cover your eyes. That took a lot.

“Yeah? You think I’m handsome?” he asks, drawing closer.

He gently pulls your hands off of your face.

You look up at him.

His cheeks are pink, flushed from the alcohol, his hair is less tame than it was when you got here, and his crimson eyes are radiant, even in the dark.

“Miguel,” you exhale.

“Y/N,” he says, smoothly, deep, pretty on his tongue.

You grasp onto his suit jacket, pulling him into you.

He strokes your cheek, then combs his fingers through your hair, pushing it out of your face.

You stare into each other’s eyes, then his eyes wander down to your lips.

You tilt your face up and he leans down.

You kiss.

It’s heated, drunk, wet, and addictive.

It intensifies as he slowly presses you up against the wall, your lips still glued to each other.

His lips detach, his kisses trailing down to your neck.

“Y/N,” he breathes against your skin.

“I know you remember me,” he mutters into your neck.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“English 150A. I know you remember.”

“I didn’t realize you did.”

“You’re hard to forget.”

You pull him back in for a kiss, shutting him up. It’s drunk and passionate. Your cheeks burn hot.

His fangs are razor-sharp; you’re too drunk to realize when they cause you pain.

You pull away, then reach your hand up to his lips.

“Can I?”

He obeys, looking down at you with drowsy eyes.

You stroke his fangs. They’re hyper realistic. If you applied a bit more pressure, they would puncture the tip of your finger.

“Why are they so sharp? Mine aren’t that sharp. Where did you get them?”

“Doesn’t matter. They were expensive though,” he shrugs, allowing you to continue touching his lips with your thumb.

“Miguel, these could actually cut me.”

You reach back to his fangs, before he gently pulls your hand away.

“Here, I’ll do it,”

He grazes his own fingertip on his fang, drawing blood.

“Miguel, stop,” you squeal, yanking his hand away from his mouth.

He laughs, showing you the blood. He’s too drunk to read the concern on your face and you’re too drunk to realize it’s not that serious.

“It’s like a paper cut, Y/N,” he reasons, sucking the blood off his finger.

“You’re annoying. I’m not staying here and entertaining this.” You reach for the closet door. He grabs your wrist. You turn to look up at him.

“Come on, Boots, I was just showing you,”

“What? What did you just call me?”

“Boots. You wore those red rain boots that week of the storm. I thought they were cute, and it just stuck with me,” he says, shrugging it off.

“You really do remember me. Okay, we’re doing this… wait, you’re a science boy, what were you doing TA-ing for an English course?”

“Hm yeah, it was a favor for Professor Reyes,”

“Favor for what?”

“I’m too drunk to talk about this right now,” he groans, throwing his head back.

“Okay,” you nod, leaning only your back against the wall.

He looks up at you, then slowly approaches you.

“We still have like four minutes left,” you sigh.

“Four minutes. I can work with that,” he smirks, towering over you.

Then he’s kissing you, hands on your waist, holding you against his body. Again, he’s pressing you up against the wall.

His leg is in between your legs, as you lean back.

You squeeze his tricep, encouraging the pressure he’s applying all over you.

“You’re so warm, and god, you’re so beautiful,” he grumbles into your lips.

You feel it, something pressing into your thigh, against your dress.

The butterflies in your stomach intensify. You feel hot all over. You’re drunk and you want him and he’s right here and he wants you too.

“I want you,” you moan into his mouth.

“Yeah?” he whispers, trailing his lips down to your neck, sucking gently.

“Harder,” you encourage, enjoying yourself a little too much.

You comb your fingers through his hair, gripping tightly.

He squeezes your thigh, holding you tight against his leg.

He sucks harder; you feel his fangs brush against your skin.

You moan, pulling his hips into yours. He grips your waist tighter. If you weren’t wearing this dress, his fingerprints would be bruised into you. He hangs his head on your shoulder, quietly moaning into your skin, before bruising you again.

He restrains himself.

“Now bite me,”

He pulls his face from your neck.

“Y/N,” he says, head tilted, face drowsy, hair tousled.

“It’s gonna hurt,” he shakes his head, his eyes glued to your lips.

You pull him down for a kiss.

The music stops.

“Seven minutes up!” they yell, clapping.

You pull away from each other. You try to catch your breath.

You fix your hair, bring it forward to cover your neck, wipe around your lips, and look up at Miguel, who’s brushing his hair back and straightening out his suit.

You walk out of the closet and join the circle once again.

“How were the seven minutes? How was the sex?” they tease.

“We just talked,” you slur, shrugging, suppressing your smile.

“Miguel?” they press on.

“We just talked. You heard her,” he defends, eyebrows furrowed at their doubt.

They move on to their next victim.

You turn to each other. Your eyes meet then break.

The night goes on.

⋆♱✮☽🎃☾✮♰⋆

Happy Halloween 🧛🏼‍♀️

-G ⋆୨୧˚

ch.8 here

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