This is my second blog dedicated to The Lost Boys and Interview With The Vampire acount because I can’t get enough of these men. She/Her | Non-native English speaker
Last Night , Part Two (Poly Lost Boys + Michael x GN Reader)
Synopsis: You remembered the day you died vividly, and what had started as one of the best nights of your life quickly turned sour.
Vagabond (Poly Lost Boys x GN Reader)
Synopsis: Forgiveness is a fickle thing. When four souls find each other, the world finds its equilibrium once more; until the absence of another tips the scale forever. What happens when a familiar face shows itself back at the boardwalk after twenty years of absence?
Interview With The Vampire
Reunited
Summary: 300 years had passed since 1725, where three vampires had lost the only thing that mattered to them. Now in the year 2025, they are reunited with the one person they cannot lose again.
I have tried my absolute best not to seek financial help online, especially when our collective focus should be aimed towards the welfare of our Palestinians, Congolese, and Sudanese brothers and sisters. I truly have considered countless options before resorting to asking for monetary assistance but I no longer have the means to keep myself alive and my little family afloat. Following my father's death almost three years ago due to colorectal cancer, I was diagnosed late last year with Stage 2A breast cancer.
There's an even elaborate explanation on the fundraising page that I will be attaching in this post. Please, take some time to read it. I am our family's breadwinner, and I am only asking for monetary assistance because I no longer have a job/source of income nor is my previous company willing to shoulder my medical expenses. I am left to fend for myself and I have used all of my savings to afford numerous physical/health examinations and the prescribed medication.
I am going to attach photos of how disfigured my right arm now is, the evident lumps/tumors on my armpits and if you want proof of how the cancer affected my breasts, please directly message me. I don't think I can explicitly share the photos here. But to put enough context, my left breast shrunk into at least 1/3 of its original size.
I am sincerely sorry for being a bother, but if you have the means to donate to my fundraising post, please do. I badly needed all the help I can get so I won't be summoned to court and would be able to afford surgery on time. If you cannot donate, please kindly share this post. If you have any other questions, please reach out to me through direct messaging. This is my only account (I will probably reblogged this on my side blog as well) so please, if you see someone using my photos, alert me. Thank you. Please understand, too, that I will take a bit of time to respond because I am struggling to grasp my phone/only typing using my left hand. Thank you, and please consider helping me.
We are trying to make a heartfelt appeal to gather enough monetary assistance for my niece, Alex, who is currently battling stage 2A breast
I am genuinely sorry for this. If I could only ask for your permission one by one, I would but I am afraid of the possibility that Tumblr may consider my plea as spam. I am reaching out because I am desperate.
I don't want to resort to asking for monetary assistance online but I was no longer allowed to get back to work because of how deformed my right hand is now and because of my declining health. If you could, please take some time to read my pinned post. If you can't donate, a reblog will be highly appreciated still. I need all the help I could get. If you want to be removed from being tagged, please message me directly, and I will immediately do as you like. I know that this may seem invasive but it is not my intention. I am just desperate, and have been running out of ways to keep myself afloat. I cannot offer something in return other than express my immense gratitude. I am sorry, and please consider helping me. Thank you very much.
Hello everyone! I’ve mentioned this before in a previous ask, but I went on hiatus. It’s been a while, and I just don’t feel like I’m still in this fandom anymore. So, I will be leaving indefinitely. I won’t take down this blog since I feel like people still enjoy its content, but I won’t be responding to any asks/comments anymore.
Thank you to everyone who supported me while this blog was active; it means a lot!!
Sorry to those of you who have sent in requests! I have so many drafts I’m working on right now that I can’t bring myself to finish. Lately, I’ve been hyper-critical of my writing, so I have a bunch of things I haven’t (and probably won’t) finish. However, I will still be posting those requests! They just might take a little longer than usual~
Vagabond — wandering from place to place without any settled home
Poly Lost Boys x GN Reader
Synopsis: Forgiveness is a fickle thing. When four souls find each other, the world finds its equilibrium once more; until the absence of another tips the scale forever. What happens when a familiar face shows itself back at the boardwalk after twenty years of absence?
Warnings: slight angst, lots of historical information in the beginning
Word Count: 3k
By issuing the Declaration of Independence, adopted by the Continental Congress on July 4th, 1776, the 13 American colonies severed their political connections to Great Britain.
You had been ten during the conflicts between America and Great Britain, young and impressionable. Your family came with Puritans, who set sail to America back in 1630. Unlike the Pilgrims, who had left ten years earlier, the Puritans did not break with the Church of England but sought to reform it. All that happened before you were born; your ancestors had settled down and spread their roots into American soil.
You recalled little of the American Revolution; after all, you were very young back then, but you remember December 15th, 1791, vividly. Your mother couldn't stop crying that day, and your father had pulled out the oldest whiskey they had that day. America was finally severed from the tyrannical rule of George III.
You came to understand the significance of those dates more as you aged, growing into a strong individual as you helped your family on their farm. You never intended to marry; it wasn't something you had ever desired or looked forward to. The same year you had gotten married was the day you lost your immortality; both events are related but not necessarily connected. You were introduced to the vampiric community in New Orleans, a city that used the day to sleep off the mistakes you made throughout the rambunctious night.
You had lived through the formation of the Constitution of the United States of America in 1787 when the founding fathers sought to implement more structure into the now independent country.
The infamous whiskey rebellion. American drunks apparently were not too keen about Alexander Hamilton implementing a liquor tax to try and raise money for the national debt; asserting the federal government's power back in 1794.
Only nine years later, the Louisiana Purchase happened in 1803. The small land purchase for only $27 million created room for the states of Louisiana, Missouri, Arkansas, Iowa, North Dakota, South Dakota, Nebraska, and Oklahoma, along with most of Kansas, Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, and Minnesota.
Throughout the 1810s and 1830s, you had moved on from New Orleans and left for New York, seeking human connections and reconnecting with the younger generations. During that time, the Battle of New Orleans in 1815 and the Monroe Doctrine in 1823 seemed to fly past you.
Then, signed on February 2nd, 1848, the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo finally brought closure to the Mexican-American war. At this time, you were no stranger to political conflicts anymore, and the stench of blood and sweat staining battlefields was, unfortunately, no stranger.
Life moved on regardless, no matter the horrid realities life provided. For a short while, life had finally come to a stand-still, guns tucked away as the world in America resumed its development. Until April 12th, 1861, Confederate troops fired on Fort Sumter in South Carolina's Charleston Harbor at 4:30 A.M., A day that changed America forever, the beginning of the American Civil War.
The Emancipation Proclamation, The First Conscription Act, The Battle of Chancellorsville, The Vicksburg Campaign, The Gettysburg Campaign, The Battle of Chickamauga, The Battle of Chattanooga, The Siege of Knoxville. The list continued, and the coppery smell of wasted humanity tainted the air, the wind carrying the cries of victims throughout the nation.
The war ended in the Spring of 1865. Robert E. Lee surrendered the last major Confederate army to Ulysses S. Grant at Appomattox Courthouse on April 9th, 1865.
The number of soldiers who died throughout those four years eventually got estimated to be around 620,000.
Only 47 years later, on July 28th, 1914, the Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated, beginning the cruel trench warfare of World War I. In early April 1917, America aided the effort to join a war to end all wars. You had entered the war effort, like everyone capable at the time; from soldiers to nurses, everyone gave aid.
On November 11th, 1918, the war ended. Although the Allies won, you found no reason to celebrate. Not when mothers sold their homes since there wasn't a reason to have a multiple-bedroom house anymore, when graveyards overflowed with the dead, when people mourned their losses, when mothers' only answer to their missing sons was a notice declaring their child missing in action.
The stock market crashed in 1929, kicking off the Great Depression that would last for more than a decade.
On September 1st, 1939, Germany invaded Poland. Kicking off World War II and beginning one of the most brutal warfare's, Blitzkrieg. On May 8th, 1945, Germany surrendered. After the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan surrendered on September 2nd, 1945, and the Second World War came to an end.
The war ended, and the surviving soldiers returned with missing limbs and broken spirits. You were a firm believer that humans were not meant to witness so much death; it tainted them; it dulled them. Although you were a vampire, a creature supposedly made for horror, you could not forget what you had witnessed in only the span of 21 years.
You were 201 years old now, relatively young in the grand scheme of time, but you had lived through a few of the greatest horrors the world had ever seen.
189 years of traversing the lands, you watched grow in a desperate search to find one of your own. Since you were turned and left New Orleans, you had not met a single vampire. You watched with sorrowful wisdom in your eyes as the world passed through you, virginity in people's expressions you wish you had. A gaze untainted by warfare, civil unrest, and brutality.
Although you have met the occasional human to brighten your own world, it did not cure you. Your search was desolate—fruitless.
Your feet had carried you to Santa Carla, the year now being 1963, and just as the five stages of grief had settled on acceptance. You bumped into a group of four rambunctious bikers that would change your life forever. That had been the first time you had met, and you had continued to live together, going on to live through the Civil Rights movement and grieving the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr.
But on August 12th, 1967, you left Santa Carla. Your absence is only justified by a delicately written letter standing in your place. You had grown to love the boys, but you had lived differently compared to them.
Marko and Paul were younger vampires than you, having been turned while The Great Depression was bulldozing America. Dwanye had been older, abandoning his immortality in the 18th century along with David. All of them possessed the innate ability to move on from the past, a talent you, unfortunately, did not possess.
No matter how hard you tried, you could not find peace or excitement in the future. The uncertainty corrupted you, tormented you and your experiences, so you left. Not with the intent to abandon but to sort out whatever you had to sort out. Away from the prying eyes of those you loved, those who you did not want—couldn't disappoint.
Santa Carla, the town you had never been able to forget. It was 1987 now; twenty years had passed since you had seen the four vampires. You had missed them—a melancholic weight having nestled its way into your heart ever since you left. You regretted the way you had left through a simple letter. A cowardly move; you were wise enough to understand that. But at the time, you couldn't bring yourself to say it to them. How could you? Look someone in the eyes, someone like you—your own pack that never did anything but love you—and tell them you were leaving?
You didn't have the heart, and if you were a little more honest, you didn't have it now, either. But you missed them more than your hurt pride by walking what felt like a walk of shame as you wandered around the busy boardwalk. One thing you never could get used to was the constant shift in fashion, it felt like the ins became the outs overnight, and you never were able to keep up with it.
Bright colors were the most fashionable now, with teased hair and loud makeup. You enjoyed it, your knowing eyes watching over the crowd. The smell of hairspray permeated the air, wafting towards you as you passed people. Bulky and oversized clothes were spotted throughout the crowds, some men and women wearing specific member-only jackets. Ah, it seems the surfer nazis still haven't given up on Santa Carla yet.
The amusement park was new; back in 1867, the boardwalk had small shops littered around—like a market. Originally it mostly sold food and groceries, fish caught fresh from the sea, and farmers selling their produce.
How has the pier changed so significantly? If it wasn't for the bold, attention-seeking sign that said Santa Carla Boardwalk; you would've thought you were at the wrong address. But stepping on those old wooden floorboards of the pier that occasionally creaked or sunk under your feet was an all too familiar feeling. The smell of salt, rotting seaweed that had washed onto the shore, and the fresh street food made you feel all too at home.
It felt like you had never really left.
Your appearance had changed quite a bit since you left Santa Carla, so you didn't expect either the boys or Max to really recognize you. But although you were willing to stay under the radar for the boys, Max was another story. He was a head vampire, a coven leader, and therefore needed to be notified of your presence.
Entering Max's video store made you feel nostalgic, the same old grimy bell still hanging atop the doorframe signaling your arrival; you had been the one to put that there to originally annoy Max. You were surprised he kept it. The wooden floorboards and furniture gave off a distinct, homey smell. You had been there when the store was built, and the shiny coating across the floors now had grown mat, occasional wood panels brighter in color than before.
"I never thought I'd meet the day I saw you walk through those doors again."
Turning around, you met the stern gaze of Max. His outfit made you smile, a desperate attempt at blending in with the crowd. Max was always a stickler for blending in; if he had no intention of turning you; you had no business knowing who; or rather what, he was.
"It's good to see you."
"I'm flattered, but I doubt that I am the sole reason you returned." Max always carried that knowing tone, as if he's watched out every move you'd make before you made them. It reminded you that Max had a coven before the boys and you, one he rarely conversed about. Perhaps Max really had seen this turn out before, but analyzing that surprised expression, you could only assume who had left never did come back.
"How right you are," You sighed, shoulders dropping as you hopped onto the cashier counter. It was before opening, meaning you and Max had some time to chat privately.
"Twenty years is a long time," Max hummed, a low and almost chiding tone. "What made you come back?"
"To us, it isn't," You weakly argued back. The cumbersome feeling, or rather an awareness that you were in the wrong, was nearly unbearable. You were smart enough to understand that denial was a fruitless endeavor, and yet you couldn't help but let those desperate attempts escape you.
"For people waiting for you, it's an eternity." Max sighed in a calm but chiding tone. Although Max never did have to scold you the way he did with the boys, from not committing arson to preventing fights. Max instead focused his guidance towards you on a more emotional level, the morality; a bit ironic being taught by a vampire—but he did his best.
You glanced outside, through the glass walls of Max's shop, watching the bustling crowd pass you. Twenty years to a vampire was nothing, but somehow the short span of time felt arduous. Why did you come back?
"I never intended on staying away forever. I knew that when the time was right, I'd return." You explained, stealing a quick glance at Max. The older man had a frown etched onto his face, eyebrows furrowed as his own gaze lingered on the rambunctious humans outside. So unaware of the constant and unrelenting passage of time. It was cruel to be immortal; the passage of time no longer hindered you. But emotions are bendable and are the only aspect of ourselves that remains from who we were. Emotions were mortal.
"Santa Carla has changed, Y/N. It is not what you left behind; they are not the same as they were alongside you." Max recalled, his voice disapproving.
You knew Max was correct; you knew deep in your wrenching and twisting gut. You jumped off the counter, your feet hitting the floor like gravity had shifted around you, sinking your body into the floor. "I know," you knew; perhaps the boys didn't even want to see you; they could curse you out and send your name to hell for all eternity. They deserved to do it too.
But they loved you once, and perhaps you can't help shake the feeling that they might love you again this time too.
Max sighed, walking over to his front door and twisting the closed sign around, and pronouncing the store now open. Each tap of his foot, synced with his steps, was like a thundering echo inside you. It prompted you to get up and to provide closure for the others. You reach the door, opening midway before Max leaves you with some parting advice.
"I hope you find what you came here for, Y/N. But the time might be right for you now, but it might not be for them."
You nodded, not looking back as you walked out of the store. The air was warmer, humid from the ocean breeze mixing into the air, the notorious assassin for any styled and teased hair due.
Laughter was one of your favorite sounds. As cliche as that might sound, it felt rejuvenating to hear. Whether it was a loud cackle mimicking the call of a hyena or a high-pitched wheeze or whistle. There was a beauty in people's expressions, how their noses tended to scrunch up, or how others held their stomachs and nearly doubled over. Laughter was infectious, and you loved observing the dopamine spread to others. Strangers connecting over a similar sense of joy; there was a beauty in it.
The boardwalk was filled with it, people brushing shoulders against shoulders as they walked. Groups cackling and shoving each other as they enjoyed the youngness of the evening. Music booming from different directions, punks blasting the newest rap or metal music, hippies tuning out to a gentle jam, but the loudest seemed to be a distant concert down the boardwalk and closer to the pier. Like a bee sensing some honey, you followed. Dodging the occasional passerby, ducking out of the way from shop owners lugging their merchandise around.
The music got louder, and a small thread of excitement seemed to push you further, faster. Your small stroll transformed into a quickened step, your ears guiding you and your eyes following the crowd. The music was loud; a tight smosh-like pit had formed before the stage where people grind and brushed against each other to the beat of the music.
Looking around, you scanned the faces of teenagers and young adults. There was an eager but dreaded nervousness to your gaze at the thought of seeing a face that looked familiar. But it wasn't your eyes that caught their presence, but rather your sense of smell.
Copper.
Although it was harder to pick up when the wind stills its prancing, the occasional breeze led you further towards the pier. Away from the smosh pit, and where people stood to enjoy the music but not risk getting mulled over by a hormonal teenager.
There they stood, strikingly familiar. Although some of the fashion had changed, most of their originality stayed intact. That tiny red flag tied around Dwayne's waist was something the two of you had stolen from a stingy bar owner back in 1964; Markos jacket still had all too familiar patches sewn into its denim fabric; Paul still wore those bracelets you gave him, and David wore the most prominent reminder of you, his oversized coat.
The wind picked up around you, a cold and mocking breeze flowing through your hair and betraying your presence to the four men you had left behind all those years ago. One by one, heads lifted, smiling ceased, and laughter died. Although you had spent years preparing yourself for this moment, nothing felt so gut-wrenchingly real than standing before them.
How do you look someone in the eyes after you've abandoned them?
How do you move past that moment when the world around you stills and halts. When you lose yourself in the blear of the world when mortality reaches its hand around your heart and squeezes. A vice-like grip, a feeling blooming within your chest so heavy–so unspeakable. When you see those eyes, recognize the sorrow behind them and realize you were the perpetrator. You were the one who put that agony, that sadness there.
The burden of your actions ties itself around your throat like a noose, tight and unyielding, as you realize the cruelty was done by none other than yourself. And there is no way, in any shape or form, you could reverse the damage you've done. Pain is immortal, it might yield to its throbbing, but it never forgets.
A world with your boys back in 1967 exists now only in your memory. The four men, cold as the autumn waters, were your reality now.
Synopsis: You still ponder what really killed you, the day you died or the day you lost your humanity. When the dawn becomes something you'll never see again, will you ever be able to accept your new nature?
Summary: Micheals Ex-Girlfriend received a concerning phone call from Lucy begging her to come and check up on a now distant and unrecognizable Micheal. But what was meant to be a simple reunion and check-in, instead leads to four very rambunctious bikers and an old lover, to be extremely opposed to letting you leave again.
Warning: Animal mutilation, blood, blood drinking, minor injuries, hurt/comfort, some angst, grinding, murder, corrupted representation of Christianity
Part One
Word Count: 10k
There will be no explicit or detailed smut because I wanted to keep this fic gender neutral! I'm sorry to anyone who expected some spicer scenes with our boys!
Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me and motivate me to keep writing! Please keep leaving them since I love to read them! This will be the final chapter in the"Last Night" series since I'm dying to write about something new. Let me know what you thought of this!
If you needed to explain how you were feeling, the best way to describe it would be in a state of constant panic. Your mind was throbbing, eyes catching onto everything, yet nothing simultaneously. You had become all too aware of the rising sun, the bright light blinding you. Planting a powerful migraine against your head. You couldn't breathe, you couldn't feel but felt everything at the same time. Heard nothing but could make sense of the squirrels hopping from branch to branch. You cried, utterly unaware of where you were. In that moment of panic, when that monster finally let you go. You didn't look back; you didn't stop until you felt like you had put enough distance between you and Santa Carla.
You sat somewhere in the forest, crawled against a tree as if the wide bark would somehow hide you as you wheezed for air. The moist soil underneath you tainted your pants, leaving you looking exactly how you felt. Some of your blood had soaked up into the top of your shirt, while the rest grew dry and uncomfortable against your skin.
Your body ached. Your teeth burned, and so did your hands. Glancing down, you nearly threw yourself back into despair at the sight of your sharp, nail-like claws. What happened to you? And most importantly, what were you now?
You couldn't help but wail, your knees pressed tightly against your chest as you wrapped your arms around yourself. As if you could protect yourself from whatever was happening, even though you knew how nonsensical that hope was. It still provided some comfort for you.
You had stayed in the position for hours, and although your sobbing was long replaced with tiredness, you tried staying awake. But something about the sun forced your eyes closed, and when you opened them once more, the sun was setting, and your throat burned. You groaned, sitting up from your lying position. You didn't know what to do; you couldn't return to Lucy's, especially if she had something to do with this. The thought made your stomach tie itself in knots, a sinking feeling nearly pressing you against the ground. How have you gotten yourself into this position?
How could anyone do this to you? Your fists balled at the thought, your sharp nails slicing into your palm. You slowly got up, stumbling around for a little. You could hear so much, could see more precisely than ever before. It gave you a massive headache; some part of you just wanted to curl up against the tree stump and wake up from this nightmare. But you couldn't, no matter how much that thought broke you. This was real; whatever was happening was real.
You stumbled aimlessly through the woods, trying to figure things out away from the rest of society. A part of you felt safe, knowing that he couldn't find you in the middle of nowhere. The sharp sound of a twig snapping pulled you out of your thoughts, predatory eyes instantly zeroing in on the location the sound originated from. The sound came from a bush, the leaves rustling as something clearly nudged and navigated through the shrubbery. You stood still, not trusting yourself. A peculiar itch, almost like a nervous tick, urged you towards the noise. Your hands craved for something, your teeth ached, and your throat felt dry. Your body screamed for something you didn't understand or refused to recognize.
Your breath caught in your throat as a small, brown bunny peeked out from the bushes. Its small button nose twitched as it sniffed and analyzed its surroundings. It's cheeks made the whiskers flick, small paws tapping the ground several times before dedicating the mossy floor save enough to hop on. You froze, that nagging urge growing into a raging protest. Before you could even hesitate to question the simple thought, you pounced. The small, high-pitched screech of the bunny brought tears to your eyes as you gripped it. Getting the small fluffy body to your mouth and biting into it. The tiny creature uttered another small cry before going silent, its previously kicking paws and legs halting before slowly sinking and stilling completely. But you didn't care; you couldn't, not when that god-awful nectar was pouring down your throat. Calming the fire, quenching your pain, all through the price of another.
You were messy, and the grip of your jaw was so fierce that you could hear several crunching of bones under your grip. You gulped up whatever you could, blood dripping out the corners of your mouth, trailing down your neck, and staining your shirt collar. You sucked until nothing came out of the poor bunny anymore, letting go and looking down at the life you just stole. Realization dawns on you like boulders, dropping the poor lifeless body and beginning to weep. You killed something; you killed that bunny. You felt hysterical, hands twisting themselves in your hair as you hyperventilated. The word monster takes the form of a mantra, marching to the beat of your racing heartbeat.
The burning in your throat died down but was quickly replaced by the aching of your heart. Mourning what you had done it took you nearly an hour to calm down. You had tried wiping and scrubbing off the blood on your body, most likely smudging and making your appearance much worse, but at the moment, all you wanted was that crimson color off of you. It stained, and you weren't sure if you could ever indeed wash it off. It didn't stain your skin, but your soul would bear this mark for eternity.
You gently shifted the bunny, starting to dig a small hole beside the bushes it hopped out from. Your appearance couldn't get any worse now, blood and dirt-stained clothes. Grimy hands, the dark soil stuck underneath your fingernails. When considering the hole deep enough to prevent any predator from digging up the carcass, gently lower the bunny, covering it with dirt and patting the ground flat afterward. You sat before the makeshift grave, not knowing what to think or feel. There was too much, and as you sat rooted to the ground, you tried figuring out what to do next. A small thought came to you: if anyone could help you now, at least give you refuge, it would be the church. Wasn't that their whole shtick? Providing aid and guidance in moments of doubt, because if that was the case, you'd be a perfect candidate for practicing their moral codes.
But you had spent nearly the entire day wallowing and mourning your old life, who you were, and fearing what the setting sun made you. No, showing up the way you were now, covered in blood, was a sure way to send a raging mob after you holding pitchforks and blazing torches. You needed to find shelter, hide out the night, and adequately recuperate. But you had no money, and you'd rather die than return to Lucy's home.
Was that why she had actually brought you here? The thought made your skin colder than it was, but an even worse thought crossed your mind. Twisting your heart in a brutal, vice-like grip. Did Michael know?
Time seemed to tick past you at that moment, the singing breeze creating a symphony of rustling bushes and leaves. It all moved through you, past you, like you weren't really there. You didn't want to breathe, think, or even consider that thought a possibility. Micheal had always been a lousy liar. Currently, that was the only knowledge you had to ground yourself. You tried to control your breathing, but with your rampaging thoughts and the subtle taste of copper in your mouth, you just couldn't. It wasn't that easy, and looking ahead simply felt too overwhelming for you. So, you took things step-by-step, figuring the first thing you could do was get out of this damned forest.
So, you began walking straight ahead following the setting sun. The orange hue occasionally broke through the thick foliage of branches and leaves. Cascading delicate beams of light onto the mossy floor, the beauty of the sight calmed you. It felt separate from the rest of the world, like a slight pause for you to soak up before returning to the never-resting society you belonged—or instead, used to belong to.
You couldn't tell how long you walked or where you were, but you knew you had finally made it when you saw the flash of car lights. The sun had finally died for the day, lessening your headache considerably. You finally made it to a gravel-like road, not having any official pavement but clearly hardened from car tires throughout the years. You watched as the car drove on, hoping to follow it to a more populated area. You let the path guide you. You had to be careful; the course contained so many depressions and holes in the ground you didn't want to accidentally twist your ankle. With your current streak of bad luck, you wouldn't put something so ridiculous above you. The longer you walked, the more you couldn't help but wonder how anyone could travel down this path in a car without getting incredibly motion sick.
However, when you finally saw a house in the upcoming clearing, you weren't greeted by the gradual introduction of neighborhood streets but instead a large farm. Fields and crops litter the area to your left, while pens are to your right. No doubt about yielding livestock. The area practically reeked of cows in the most unpleasant way imaginable. But you found yourself relieved; a farm like this wouldn't have the toughest surveillance to beat, if any, and you felt safer knowing that. You snuck around, keeping yourself hidden as you watched the farmer exit his truck and enter his home.
You could see so much clearer if the sun had never really set. You glanced around before you found a wooden barn on the south side of the field, rushing your way over and trying to pry the rusted doors open. It didn't work, at least it wouldn't if you didn't want to rip the door off its hinges. You walked around, seeing a broken window. Small, sharp jagged pieces of glass still stuck out here and there, but you managed to lift yourself through it. Not without a complimentary scratch, a low hiss escaped you as you glanced at your cut arm. Your eyes watched as your blood cried from the cut, and a sick part of you was tempted to lick it clean.
The barn was clearly too old to still be in use; the only company you had was heaps of hay, creaking wood, and a roof that threatened to collapse onto you any minute. The barn had two stories, although the second story only covered one-half of the first floor, a long unstable ladder leading towards it. You had come so far, and the thought of being above viewpoint was somewhat comforting. So, you carefully climbed up the ladder. Letting out a sigh of relief when you made it, throwing yourself onto a lump of hay in the far corner. You felt hidden, away from anything or anyone.
"They ought' to be here!" Paul exclaimed, clearly exasperated and exhausted from this situation. They had been looking for you all night, neither of them being able to get an ounce of rest knowing you, their mate, had gone missing in Santa Carla of all places. They had traced your steps the next evening when you failed to show up, following your faint scent into a shady alleyway. To say Marko nearly hyperventilated at the smell and sight of your dried blood was an understatement. They were all beyond worried, sick to the bone. Their only consolation is that you were alive; they would've felt it had your bond died. No, you were still alive, and they couldn't rest until they found you.
"I smell it too; it's faint. They must've been here; their blood must've dried a while ago." Dwayne hadn't spoken a word since you went missing, only ever speaking up when he needed to. He had to remain calm; in a situation like this, David and the others needed a rock to ground themselves on, and despite the emotional anguish he felt, clawing at his heart to cry out for you senselessly, he remained stoic.
"Search the area. I don't care if you have to stick your nose in the filthy soil; find where the scent leads." David growled; he felt the worst out of everyone; he felt a horrible, cumbersome chain tying itself around his throat. Guilt. He was the coven leader; his job was to ensure his mates were safe. He was immortal, a god-damned creature of hell, but what was the point of being invincible if he couldn't even protect the people who mattered? He shouldn't have let you go that night; he shouldn't have listened to the others. It was in his instinct to take you with him, to keep you in his sight, safe.
None of them really conversed much since you disappeared, sure they were all mates, but your absence left them incomplete. If the conversation wasn't about finding you, they didn't have it.
Micheal was fairing the worst, an undeniable feeling of guilt similar to David's settling on his body. Sure, David was supposed to protect everyone. But ultimately, he was the reason you came to Santa Carla in the first place. Maybe if he had hidden it better, his adjustment to his new life, his mother would've never sent you here to hell city of all places.
Marko couldn't stay still; he had even tried some of Paul's more vigorous weeds to keep him calm. But he couldn't, rushing from place to place like a frightened cat. Some might mistake this as hyperness, but the boys knew the real reason. Pure, unfiltered anxiety. Like a bunny hopping from place to place, a weasel who can't stay still, Marko found you first. Sleeping in a curled, protective form, body covered in several pieces of hay. But the sight of dried blood over you, not hearing your heartbeat, his world crashed down onto him.
“Y/N?” His voice was croaked, raw from emotion. The simple word, breathless as it was, caught the attention of everyone.
Marko kneeled, letting his hand ghost your shoulder and arm before shaking you. Seeing your eyes open, as tired and irritated as they were, brought such relief to him that he could cry. However, Paul was a step ahead of him, being the first to join Marko in fussing over you.
David, Dwayne, and Micheal followed soon after. Dwayne wasted no time helping you sit up, carefully inspecting your body until letting his eyes land on the cut on your arms, studying it carefully before grabbing the cloth tied around his waist and making a makeshift bandage to prevent dirt from coming into your wounds.
"What happened to you?" Micheal finally piped up, grabbing your hands and inspecting the dried blood. He only let out his own breath when he realized it wasn't your blood. He pulled you into a tight hug, his hold tight and unrelinquishing as he nuzzled his head into the top of your hair.
"Stop hogging her!" Paul complained, shoving Micheal off. It wasn't anything too forceful, more like a nudge. When Micheal pulled away to fight with Paul, Marko swooped in and pulled you into his arms. Taking on a similar position to Micheals. "You made us worried." He murmured into your neck, giving you another squeeze to reassure yourself you were there. Safe in his arms again.
All the boys had been so ecstatic to see you; even David's shoulders dropped as he sighed of pure relief. But he was more analytical than the others; he recognized the lack of your heartbeat. The way blood seemed to cling onto you, he could sense it. Somehow, you had become a vampire. The thought made him cold, even more, frigid than he already was. No, his anger was blazing, but it did not radiate a scalding heat but the opposite. His fury was glacial.
"Wait outside for us." His authoritative voice commanded, sending silence across the shabby barn. They all send pleading looks toward you before slowly leaving. Dwayne grabbed David's shoulder, reminding him to be gentle with whatever the bleach blonde had planned. When the boys had finally left, you felt your ability to breathe return. You had been so overwhelmed, thousands of thoughts and questions running through you. Why weren't they afraid? You were a bloody mess! You could understand Micheal looking for you, but the others as well?
Your small moment of relief was quickly replaced with dread as you realized you were alone in a room with a man you couldn't bring yourself to lie to. It was silent, the sound of singing crickets seemingly decorating the night air. It would be relaxing if you didn't hate the oppression its silence came with. Slowly getting up, you winced at the reopening of your cut.
David slowly walked over, carefully reaching out and cupping your cheeks. He stayed like that momentarily, simply soaking in the sight of you before him. Eventually, his hand traveled lower before pushing down the collar of your shirt, revealing the two puncture wounds that changed your life forever. His eyes flashed yellow, a low, animalistic sound escaping him.
"Who?"
"What?" You snapped yourself out of your lost haze, finally meeting David's cold stare. It wasn't directed at you, but you, unfortunately, didn't know that.
"Who did this to you?"
The question seemingly transported you. Back into the body of a helpless individual, losing their lives in a dingy alleyway. The fear, the panic, it made you crumble. Your knees went weak as you wobbled back onto the floor. "I—" you struggled, trying to put on a brave face in front of such stern eyes. "I—I didn't know them."
That answer provided a scowl to erupt across David's features, a feeling of uselessness washing over him. How was he supposed to avenge you if you couldn't give him anything to work off of? He sighed, his mind wanting to push further, but a simple glance at your quivering form prevented him from doing so. "Come on, rosebud, let's get you somewhere safe." He eventually settled on that, watching you stumble before picking you up. If he hadn't pushed you enough tonight, he lifted off the ground to reach the bottom, and promptly, the outside of the barn sent your mind reeling.
You wanted to run, but the feeling of being in someone's arms. Someone you knew, someone who felt oddly safe to you had you staying. The boys glanced at you two, Dwayne coming over and taking you from David's arms. He saw your weak and drowsy state, his heart clenching at the sight. "She hasn't had enough blood." He started calmly, watching you soullessly rest your head against his chest. "We'll give her some in the cave, then she'll be able to recover someplace safe." Dwayne nodded at David's statement, readjusting you in his arms. The movement prompted you to open your eyes, the smell of his leather jacket oddly settling to you. "Get some rest Y/N; we'll take care of you now. You'll feel better soon," you nodded slowly. Closing your eyes and resigning yourself to whatever the future holds for you now. It couldn't get any worse anyways.
"Are they still sleeping?"
An exasperated sigh echoed throughout the cave, Dwayne rolling his eyes before rubbing his temples. "You asked five minutes ago; yes, they're still sleeping!"
A loud hush followed from David and Micheal, both scolding the two for talking so loudly. Everyone was on edge; you had slept for nearly two days now. And although odd sleeping patterns weren't rare for fledglings, you were a neglected fledgling, which provided them all with many concerns and worries. The birth of a new vampire was often labeled as a fledgling, as in the eyes of vampires, you, and your very unique nature, was akin to that of a baby. Similarly to neglecting babies upon birth, they weren't sure what consequences you'd suffer from upon waking.
"David, we need to wake them. They need to feed." Micheal chimed in, his need to coddle you almost overbearing. Although the boys had given him a fair share of tough love, they made sure his fledgling stage was a healthy one. He was more moody than ever, but changes like those were common for at least a year after turning. Although David acted the coldest, he had been the most persistent that Micheal was feeding enough and adequately. A complete mother-hen in denial.
David sighed, getting up from his wheelchair-like throne and making his way over to the bed you and Dwayne were snuggled in. The sight would've warmed his heart if the circumstances would've been different. He walked around before settling down on the edge of the bed closest to you. He gave Dwayne an approving nod, "Wake them; they've rested enough." He whispered, gently stroking your cold cheek before pulling away. His poor rosebud.
Dwayne gently shook your shoulder, shifting you off of him in order not to scare you when you woke up, watching you slowly stir awake, blinking the fatigue off of your cute expression.
For you, it has, somehow, gotten worse.
Waking up, you felt feverish; your body ached similarly to how it had done hours ago. When you had—had killed that bunny.
Your hand instinctively clutched at your throat, trying to somehow dull the ache. Your hearing was blurred, but you heard distant hushes and orders before fully coming too. Your eyes focused on the concerned figures of David and Dwayne, practically looking over you as Dwayne took your hand away from your throat, hushing your pain-fueled whines. "Shh, it's okay. You're okay." Dwayne's soft but stern voice seemed to stabilize you, but the familiar need left your body twisting and shifting. Every little muscle felt utterly uncomfortable, aching torturously.
David gently combed his fingers through your hair, trying his best to calm you down. Seeing his mate, his little vampire, in such distress ruined him. "It's okay, rosebud, we're here to help." He hummed, glancing at Dwayne as they silently communicated. They slowly helped you sit up, watching the way your hand unknowingly sharpened its nails. Your body prepares itself for a meal.
"What's happened?" You stammered, hating the way you were losing control. A deep sense of fear washed over you, draining into your being. "I—David, Dwayne—"You couldn't form a proper sentence, but the words you did manage to say put the two eldest vampires into a protective frenzy.
Dwayne hushed you, gently rubbing a soothing pattern against your back. David already shrugged off his jacket, shifting his shirt to properly expose his neck to you. He watched with narrowed eyes how your gaze halted against his suddenly exposed skin, watching the small bob of your throat as you swallowed at sight.
Dwayne gently cupped the back of your head, nudging you towards David. "You're hungry, baby; look at David. He's offering you a meal, sweetheart. You'll feel better once you feed; trust us; we'll take care of you."
Your unsure gaze flashed between them, that odd feeling once again tugging at you. Your body, more than ever, felt pulled to them; they gave you comfort. A need to be with them, and in a moment of weakness, you thought yourself giving in to them. Letting your body get pulled; once close enough, David snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to practically be sitting in his lap. You inhaled the sweet scent that seemingly surrounded David, making your tense shoulders loosen, your body easing into the comfort that David provided. The bleach blood rubbed your back, trying to soothe you further. "Come on, rosebud, let those instincts take over."
The two could tell you weren't going to take a bite on your own, your mind and body too perplexed to accept the reality of your situation. Dwayne reached over, letting one of his fingernails extend into a claw-like shape and making a small slash at David's neck, letting his crimson blood trickle from the wound.
As if the smell and sight triggered your buried instincts, you latched onto David's neck. Your fangs pierce the skin with a painful clumsiness typical for a fledgling. But the sound of your eager gulps had both of the vampires relaxing, Dwayne gently moving your hair to one side as David held you close. "That's it, good job." The blonde praised, keeping a firm but caring grip on the back of your head, not letting you go until you had a full feeding. The praise, the touch, and the comfort from both of them allow you to fully relax. Letting out small sighs of relief as you drank greedily, gulping down the sweet crimson from David. Letting his blood calm every screaming nerve inside you, replacing the dull ache with a welcomed high. "Good job, sweetheart; see how good it feels to feed?" Dwayne's voice cooed gently into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
It took a while before you unlatched from David, his blood messily spread and smeared across your mouth. The sight nearly made Dwayne coo at your adorable form, your eyes a little glassy from feeling so overwhelmed. David, on the other hand, felt overly satisfied, watching your relaxed state of a post-feed high, gently nudging you to lay back down.
"What a messy little fledgling you are." He teased softly, chuckling as he watched your eyes droop. Now that your needs have been met, you feel an unexplainable tiredness, the suddenness of your exhaustion setting your nerves off once more. Before you could push yourself up again, Dwayne guided you back down. Covering you in a blanket, "Sleep baby, it's normal to feel tired after such a big meal."
You nodded, at that moment, not overthinking. "We'll be here when you wake up; rest now, rosebud." You heard David's voice whisper, the two vampires watching you drift off into a peaceful slumber.
Once they were sure you were fully asleep, they slowly crawled out of the bed. Greeting the upset-looking vampires in the main hall, all angry about being benched by the oldest. "Why did you get to feed her?" Marko cursed, casting an irritated glare toward David, who sat back down with smugness. Flashing your sloppy bite mark off to the others with pride. "Because I'm the oldest and our coven leader Marko." He explained calmly, reveling in the jealousy of others.
Paul groaned, having laid himself back up on the couch. His head was hidden in one of the cushions. "They probably looked so cute.." Dwayne smiled, your hesitance and gradual acceptance being awfully adorable in his eyes. "They sure was." He mused, making both Marko and Paul groan.
Micheal sighed, a part of him just glad you ate. But he feared for what you'd be like after waking up from your nap, with a clear head this time. Would you hate him? Indeed you couldn't accept this life so quickly; among all of them, he was the only one who didn't see this feeding as acceptance. He knew you still had a lot of things to say, and none of the boys were ready to hear it.
When you woke up again, your body felt better, stronger, and more rejuvenated. You couldn't really remember what happened when you woke up the first time, only having a hazy memory of David and Dwayne being by your side. You sat up, looking around you and the bed you were In. The sheer curtains around the bed didn't let you see anything besides silhouettes around the cave, prompting you to get up and shift out of bed.
You glanced around, analyzing your surroundings. When did you get inside a cave? You could hear distant chatter, following the sound until you entered the central part of the cave. A decrepit fountain in the center of it all, your steps echoing across the stone floors.
"You're awake!" Paul perked up as he turned around at the sound of footsteps, grinning as he saw you. He waved you over, watching your confused stare before finally making your way around and sitting down on the couch beside him. The couch cushions were soft and overused, letting you practically sink into the pillow-like cushion.
"How do you feel?" He asked, his eyes carrying the familiar blown-out expression you were used to. "Right now? I'm surprisingly fine." Paul grinned at the answer, taking a quick drag of his joint before moving closer. "Now that's all I ever want to hear, baby."
"Piss off, you crack-head!" Micheal hissed, shoving Paul's face away from yours. You jumped at the sudden intrusion, standing up from the couch. "Micheal, we need to talk." You said sternly, ignoring the way Paul cackled behind you two.
The brunette nodded, walking back over to the bed the boys had set up for you. If David returned from his hunt early with Dwayne, the two overprotective vampires would roast him alive if they found out he had taken you out of their nest. He slid the curtains closed, trying to regain a semblance of privacy for you. "Okay," he murmured, crossing his legs as you two settled on the bed. "Hit me with it."
You sighed, initially wanting to leave wherever the hell you were. But you didn't seem to have the strength to settle back on the bed, sitting criss-cross and fiddling with the hem of your shirt. "What the hell has been going on? I mean—what am I? What are you?" Questions kept escaping you like a bunch of word vomit, making Micheal hold up his hands to try and silence you.
"Slow down," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't want to hurt you with this information, but he knew it was a hard pill to swallow.
"Firstly, you're a vampire. We're not sure from who, but someone had turned you. The act is done by being bitten and then promptly consuming the other's blood."
As if the world didn't feel like it was falling down onto your shoulders, the cumbersome weight of your malicious reality certainly did wonders in keeping you in a constant state of disparity. You didn't want to believe Micheal, but you knew better than to sit in a puddle of denial. It wouldn't change a thing; you'd just drag out the pain longer. Before you could properly grieve your past life, the two devil twins came barging into your space. Jumping onto the mattress, making all of you bounce into the air before landing not so gracefully against the mattress.
"Jesus Christ, you two! Will you chill out? This ain't exactly easy for her to take in." Micheal argued, sitting back up with an irritated stare. But there was nothing much his words could do as the two blondes surrounded you.
"Cheer up, sugar! Being a vampire ain't all that bad; we can do some pretty cool things too!" Marko cheered, his energy quickly matched by Paul as they tried to cheer you up. They couldn't stand the sight of you sulking, no one in the cave could, but everyone was so preoccupied with your situation that even the century-old immortals didn't know what to do.
But you still couldn't get over the fact that you now had to kill people; what had happened to you filled you with such rage that you didn't know what to do with yourself. You had been wronged, and every fiber of your miserable being wanted to rip whoever did this to you apart by the seams. "Mhm, sounds great, Marko." You murmured into the crook of your arm, not really paying attention as you sat curled up on the bed.
Both Marko and Paul glanced at each other at your dull response, Paul's expression contorting to one of worry. He wasn't the best at comforting you, especially since he had wanted his turning, and although the thought of someone else harming you made his blood boil; in secret, a deeply-hidden part of him was glad. Now you were like them and could live together for the rest of your immortal lives. The two glanced at each other before nodding, bouncing off the cave and hiding behind the sheer curtains.
You hadn't even noticed them leaving, or at least you didn't acknowledge it. But the sound of subtle little squeaks had you lifting your head, letting out a small gasp of your own as you were bombarded by two blonde bats. One had fluffy blonde hair, while the other's fur appeared more curly, no doubt being reminiscent of the two blonde bikers. "Paul—Marko?" You called out, getting little chirps back in return. Paul flew around you a couple of times before landing on your head, making a mess of your hair. Marko didn't sit still, flying around you, giving you a slight nip here and there to keep you on edge as you laughed.
"I didn't know you could turn into bats!" You laughed, for a moment finding paece in the distraction the two provided. The sound of your small laughter provided the cave with an unseeable light, but all of them could feel it. Paul and Marko flopped back into their human form, grabbing your arm and hoisting you off of the bed. "Come on, darlin', you can do it too!" Paul cheered, Marko, nodding eagerly as the two distracted you.
Dwayne put the bag of clothes he had gotten for you in his hand down, letting his feet drop to the floor with David's. He let out a sigh, getting up and walking over to the two terror twins. "So she can fall onto the cave floor?" He asked, his disapproval clear in his authoritative tone.
"Lighten up, Dwayne! So you fall a little; what's so wrong with that? It's all part of the fun." Marko argued, mentally challenging Dwayne. Everyone knew their intention was to distract you, and although Dwayne couldn't stand the sight of you sulking, he wouldn't put you in danger, either. He prefers you brooding then having to you see your body black and blue from screaming bruises.
"You call falling on your ass fun?" Micheal chummed in, letting his body rest against the headboard of the bed, dramatically rubbing his butt to lighten the mood.
"Not everyone is as bad as you are when it comes to flying, Mikey," Paul argued, rolling his eyes.
"She shouldn't transform until she's had a proper meal." The authoritative voice of David chimes in, effectively ruining your mood. You wanted to stand up and argue with the blonde, to stomp your foot into the ground and demand he stops commanding you. But you were out of your element here; even if you wanted to be stubborn, you're just hurting yourself. "I am not killing anyone, David."
You watched his cold eyes narrow at you, wanting to watch you waiver, but seeing the resilient look on your face made him sigh. He pulled out a cigarette in a desperate attempt to calm his nerves. His little mate was denying themselves proper health, and although he might act uncaring, it was worrying him sick. The boys had agreed to give you some time to adjust, but as the coven leader, it was his job to assure the health and safety of all his members. Especially you.
"Don't worry about it; you can still drink from us whenever you feel hungry." Micheal hummed, his tone gentle and reassuring as he rested his hand on your shoulder. Gently rubbing the tense muscle as you settled back into your seat. You nodded, cringing subtly at the idea before deciding to drop it.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" Paul's sultry voice echoed in your ear, making your hands twitch with an unfamiliar itch. Excitement spreads through you, filling you with a sense of adrenaline. You slowly realized what position you were actually in, Paul lying underneath you, your hips straddling his as he rested his hand on your thigh. In your roughness, his jacket seemed to half slide down his shoulders, now resting against the crevice of his elbows. His mesh-like top left little to the imagination, his pale chest on display for your hungry eyes. He looked delicious.
As if Paul could tell he was losing your attention, he rutted his hips against your aching nerves. Letting out a shaky sigh, his signature crooked grin spreading across his features as he watched you suck in a breath. "Eyes on me baby, just feel with me, yeah?" Despite neither of you needing air, he sounded practically breathless; but you also felt breathless. Your post-drinking haze left your body so sensitive, every little spark of friction igniting a new addiction deep within you. You two felt like pure sin.
You have been in the cave for about two weeks now. Letting yourself feed regularly off of the vampires you were staying with, none of you liked to address the elephant in the room that was your turning. The mate bond between you all had strengthened, leading you all to be closer than before throughout this time. Even David acted softer around you. But something you weren't prepared for was the many feelings associated with feeding, more specifically the lust.
In all your rampant thoughts, you failed to see Marko pull the sheer curtain back, his eyes lighting mischievously at the display. He tugged off his boots, slowly sneaking over to you; your back still turned to him. He watched silently before slowly pushing himself against you. His chest against your back, the smell of the forest and fresh blood sticking to his skin. You moaned at the smell, letting the back of your head rest against his shoulder. As if sensing your uncertainty about actually indulging yourself, Marko slowly let his delicate hands trail towards your hips. Slowly, he guided yours to grind against Paul's aching bulge.
You let out a shaky breath, one that came out shaky and chopped as you let your body tingle at the feeling. Although it felt good at that very moment, it only fueled your need. Your hand gripped Markos, a weak attempt at stopping him from tempting you.
"Ah ah, let me darlin'." He mused, his tone so coy you could practically hear his smugness. He continued rocking your hips, one of the hands holding your hips gradually moving upwards sensually before ending at your chin. Cupping the skin in a firm grip, he slowly removed your head hiding in the crook of his neck and titled it towards the debauched sight of a panting Paul. His bottom lip was caught in between his lips, and one of his eyes squeezed shut as his chest heaved up and down in a complete state of breathlessness.
"Look at him, all messy for you." He pointed out, moving your hips to push particularly roughly against Paul, making both of you moan at the friction. Unlike Dwayne and Michael, Marko and Paul didn't want to comfort you in the sense that this situation was terrible, but instead accept what you now were. How good it could feel, what it was like to have the freedom to explore every ounce of your most concealed secrets.
"Lesson one of being a vampire," Marko mused, removing his hold on you. The two changed positions with you. Paul now leaning his back against the headboard, legs spread with you in between them, your back pressed against his chest. His hand trailed around your waist, teasing your shirt before slipping underneath. His fingers now torment your searing skin, which in reality was just as freezing as the two blondes was. Marko nudged your legs open, laying on his front so his head rested conveniently between your thighs. He guided them open, caressing your skin soothingly.
"Feeding is often accompanied by an insatiable–" Marko purred, kissing up the length of your thigh. "And nearly irresistible," He continued but was cut off by Paul, who had begun massaging your sides; "hunger," Paul finished.
"So why don't you lean back and let us care for ya'?" Paul mused, practically whispering the phrase into your ear. In a similar fashion, you would've imagined the snake talking Eve into biting into the apple, Paul and Marko were the current embodiment of Lucifer for you, and this time you weren't in the mood to repent. No, you'd welcome the flames of hell eagerly, the masochist inside you hoping to feel the sting of its flames. With a nod of your head, a messy high clouding you with need, you officially sold your soul to the two devils holding you.
Marko grinned, his lips trailing kisses up your thigh, inching closer to where you needed him to be. They were teasing you, your needy eyes watching Marko kiss over your most needy spot, his teeth nipping the top of your pants, one of his fangs sticking out from the fabric. He looked up, his darkened gaze connected with yours as he patiently pulled your undergarments down.
As if in a desperate attempt not to lose your attention, Paul nipped at your neck. The sudden action sends a small jolt of electricity through you, pulling a soft mewl from you. Marko cooed at the noise while Paul chuckled, both clearly amused by your current state. They knew how hormonal fledglings could be, like animals in heat; Micheal was no different.
They had helped him out too, and they were most eager to provide their services now as well.
No matter how hard they tried, how often they showed you the normality in their ways. You couldn't wrap your head around it, that nagging resistance keeping you awake. You couldn't enter this life without committing yourself to a final attempt at regaining your old one. So, when the others went out to eat after feeding you. You left, setting out for your last, and final attempt at regaining your old humanity.
The leaves rustled with a strange ferocity as you pushed your way through the untraveled path. You didn't want to accept what you were; there needed to be an alternative. You didn't want to admit it, so when the daunting forest around your figure cleared, you saw the back of the church. You wanted to believe in that hope, that perhaps all these values preached and thrown down your throat had a purpose.
The forest was at the back of the church, revealing a small garden enclosed by a white picket fence. You hopped it, letting your bloody hands stain the purity of its color permanently. You rushed towards the back door, balling your first and desperately pounding in the creaky wooden door. You quickly shifted your focus, trying to open the door and jiggling the handle. "Please! Someone—anyone, please!"
Not hearing an answer, you stumbled back. Your tears make you choke on your own sorrow, rushing around toward the front of the building. "Please, Father! Anyone, please!" You begged, continuing to slam your hand against the door. It wasn't until it opened that you stood stunned, chest heaving, hands stained, and body soaked. You wailed in front of this man's sanctuary. Begging entry.
The man appeared elderly, with white and gray hair dominating the little hair he still had left on his head. His black cassock made his position as a priest clear, but you didn't dare move. You felt the need to be invited in.
"Goodness! Child, come, come inside." He ushered you into the old building; there were candles lighting the area, casting everything in a warm glow. You stepped inside, unable to stop your shaking, until the man covered you in a blanket. He was probably trying to provide your frigid body with warmth. "What happened to you?"
"Father, please, you need to help me. I need help—please, I need aid." You stammered, letting him guide you into a back room away from the main hall. He listened to you, his brows and face contorted in worry. "Calm down; you are safe now."
The room seemed less decorated but more elaborate than you would've thought it would be in the church, but you didn't say much as you sat down in the empty chair across the old desk. This must've been some sort of office. The priest stared for a moment, his gaze lingering on your stained hands before shuffling around the desk. His shoes thumped across the red carpet covering half of the dark oak floors. He sat down, letting his hands intertwine, and he rested them folded on the edge of the desk. "So, my child, what brings you here? What has brought you to my doors in such distress?"
You needed a moment to collect yourself for that question. What hadn't happened to you in the last week? Every horror imaginable seemed to be flowing through your life at the moment. A part of you wanted to lie, but you knew that hiding the true nature of your case would prevent you from getting any practical help. This was necessary. Clearing your throat, you slowly gather your perseverance to continue.
"Father, you must believe what I have to say. I am new to Santa Carla, but in my stay, I've encountered death and despair more than in any other place." You started, your voice shook and a clear representation of what you were feeling, utterly distraught. The man nodded, seemingly focused on you as he urged you to continue. "But what I originally thought were simple gangsters, feuds, and typical street violence became much darker. Vampires, Father, Vampires reside in this town, and I've found myself to be one of them."
You were desperate; frantic eyes watched the man inhale and lean back in his chair. He thought deeply, or at least the look of concentration was deeply etched into the creases of his face. He sighed, uncrossing his hand and gently reaching out to rest a comforting hand on top of yours.
"My child, I've read the bible well. The true structure of this world and how it came to be, the only time vampires were ever named—or mentioned. Alukah only ever being mentioned in Sefer Chasidim, where the creature is understood to be a living human being but can shape-change into a wolf. Alukah can also roughly be translated to "blood-lusting monster" or, in your case, a vampire."
He had a calm tone, deep and raspy, but it seemed to have an oddly chiding tone. He moved away, leaning fully back now against his chair as he chuckled. "But my dear, I assure you that these are old tales; such demons do not exist among us anymore."
His words were like a splash of cold water to the face, a deep, unsettling reality overcoming you. You sounded crazy; of course, no one would believe you. "But Father!" He held his hand up to silence you, shaking his head in a disapproving manner. "You can lie to me, but you cannot fool the Lord."
Anger seemed to replace your sorrow, standing up abruptly, the stool you were previously resting in falling to the floor with a loud clunk. "I am not lying!" You screeched, your face unknowingly morphing into one similar to the boys. Angled features, sharp bones, and burning yellow eyes. The man stumbled back, stammering as he took in the demonic sight that was you. His hand unknowingly grabbed onto his cross, moving out of his chair.
"I need your help Father; I have not consumed human blood yet! There needs to be a way to fix this!" Once again, you were pleading. A part of you was growing sick of it; how could a man detest your current nature but refuse to help you revert back to your "purer" self at the same time? It was hypocritical.
The hand holding the pectoral cross shook with a small tremor, breath equally as rough when it escaped his shaken form. His free hand covered his mouth, either trying to hide his labored breathing or trying to regain composure. You weren't quite sure. The silence in the room now was unsettling, threatening even—leaving you on edge. Finally, the old man's hoarse voice cut through the air as he removed the pale hand from his mouth. He waved it toward him as he walked over before passing you and opening the door. Standing beside the frame as he beckoned you to follow.
"Come come, my child. We must act quickly; you have the devil inside you. With every moment we waste, it'll grow stronger." You nodded, cringing at his choice of words before slowly following him. You would've argued at the choice of words but didn't seem to have the energy to do so. You followed as he led you through the church, leading you towards the back door you had previously banged on. He opened it, leading you towards the backyard. To the left, there was a small gravely path that shortly led to a wooden shed. Wood rot was apparent when you looked at the dying boards that made up the shed's walls.
He unlocked the shed with his key; the loud cling of chains dropping was quickly followed by the squeak of old hinges being forced to move again as he opened the door. It was an average shed if it didn't have a hidden doorway behind a shabby bookshelf. The old man pushed the shelf to the left, revealing a mossy, dirty stairway further down in what you assume to be a basement.
As if the priest could see your confusion, he began to say, "This church used to perform a multitude of exorcisms. We used to do it in the old church, but people began associating it too much with demons, so we renovated the old shack basement to do the job. That was a while ago," He mumbled, walking down the steps and revealing an equally run-down setup. There was a bed, shabby with a mattress stained with yellow and brown. The bed frame seemed to be made of rusted metal, not undoubtedly a cheap purchase at the time. Restrains we're hanging from each end of the bed.
Every fiber of your being was begging you not to lay on that mattress, but your own desperation convinced you. It convinced you to lie down and let that man tie you up; it made you trust him to cure you.
"So what will you do?"
"What I need too."
His gruff voice echoed through the room; he had tied something loosely around your eyes. Explaining that it was all part of the process. You heard him open on an old shelf, the sound of clinking wood making you uneasy. Your instincts screamed at you, but you weren't sure for what. You didn't understand yourself anymore, and the frustration coursing through you nearly brought you to tears. You just wanted all of this to be over, to understand yourself once again.
"And what would that be?" You edged further, feeling like something was wrong.
"What I was born to do."
His voice grew darker, lowering an octave or two, making you shift. The blindfold slid at your defiance, sliding off of one of your eyes. Snapping them open, you took in a sight you'd surely never forget. There, a man swore to do no harm and held a wooden spike in his shaky hand. The other clutching his cross to his heart while whispering mantras. He didn't even hesitate as he saw your yellow eyes open before he slashed forward, putting his full force into the throw of the stake.
Perhaps it was instinct, or perhaps it was simply foolish for the man to believe leather binds would chain you. But in a moment of adrenaline, you pushed your body away from the mattress, your wrists and ankles suffering a burn from the sudden action as you snapped yourself away from your murder. Watching the way his sheer force stabbed the stake through the mattress, your eyes lingering on sight.
That blow was meant to kill you.
"You fucking bastard!" You growled, a distorted tone to your voice as you took a step towards him. But with your lack of control, your hand was around the man's throat with his old back smashed against one of the walls.
"I trusted you! What kind of priest are you? You are meant to aid, protect, and serve. I am still one of God's creations! You taint your very purpose in this life with your actions!" The hand around his neck tightened, your claws unwilling to draw blood. Your eyes zeroed in on the sinful liquid, the smell so much more intense than of any of the boys.
The boys.
David was right; they were right. There was no turning back for you.
"You will never—be one of God's—creations."
Those were his last words before you ripped his throat out with your teeth. Dismembering the man's jugular, drinking away the last of your crumbling humanity. There was an irony in it that the remains of your dying humanity weren't taken from the vampires you now lived with but by a human themselves.
The man fell to the floor, eyes a haunting color. They were cloudy; you couldn't describe the sight of his pale skin mimicking the shade of yours.
You wailed, grieving everything you were as you sat hunched on the floor. Covered in the blood of the man who tried, and in some way—killed you.
You weren't sure how long you sat there, frozen, until the boys came. A hand gently shaking your shoulder, making you jump, meeting the eyes of a saddened Paul. "Oh, darlin'.." He whispered, watching you stammer, desperate to explain. But he simply picked you up, bridal-style, and led you out where the rest of the boys stood.
Marko walked over, letting Paul set you on the ground before the curly-haired vampire pulled you into a tight hug. A hug which all of the boys joined, their hearts breaking at the sound of your sobs. "It's okay, it'll be okay," Marko whispered, holding you close.
"Come on, let's take you home." David sighed after a moment. His voice drowned out in the hauntingly silent night.
That evening was the second and final marking of your death. The first takes place in an alleyway by a vampire, and the job is finished by a human. You struggled after that night; you barely ate or talked. You felt awful, your thoughts not abandoning you or your guilt. You were a murderer.
That all had taken place a few days ago, your body now sat on the roof along the boardwalk. It was a motel, two stories high, so you found a semblance of privacy on top of the concrete roof. You sat on the thick stone wall of a fence, letting your legs dangle over the edge.
"I'll never forget the day I made my first victim." Micheals voice cut through the distant booming of chatter and joy taking place below you by the adolescent and naive party-goers on the boardwalk.
"It was April 6th, at about 12:06. I lost my life forever." He went on, walking closer towards you. Stopping beside you and leaning on the fence with his forearms. His gaze lingered on the glowing boardwalk, casting everything surrounding it in a golden orange.
"So we're all murderers.." You murmured, eyes not meeting him, but you knew he was now looking at you. Your tone was cold and distant.
"He was a child molester." Micheal spat, standing up and gently moving you so you looked at him. "We don't have to be monsters, Y/N; we don't have to kill the good. I chose to take the evil from this world, and you can too."
You nodded weakly, not in the mood to argue. You let a frail smile tug on your lips, nodding to his words as you let him wrap an arm around your shoulder and squeeze you close before slowly leaving. Giving you space. Once again, you were surrounded by silence. Nothing but the blurred screams from ride-goers, drunks laughing and prancing around on the ground beneath you.
"He's wrong." That crystal clear voice, his tone stern and unwavering even if David tried to sound gentle. But his words felt icy like a cold bucket of water was poured over you. Sinking into the skin, leaving goosebumps to ravage your already frigid body. When Micheals words provided comfort, as if holding your wounded heart in his hands, David seemed to drop it instead.
"What?"
He walked over, the sound of his boots tapping against the concrete. You didn't necessarily look at him, but you noticed he settled beside you. His body bent forward, forearms resting against the wall-like railing on the rooftop. You both stood there in silence, watching the stars glitter across the ocean's surface. The silent, cruel breeze drifts through your hair and body. Seagulls cried, and boardwalk goers partied, but you felt so far away from it all. It made you question the finality of your death and where it had really occurred. Did you die in that alleyway or when you let go of your remaining humanity? You were sure a part of you must die in order to take a life; death is inevitable for either party. There is no such thing as only one dying; the other might live but never completely. Your humanity had died along with that priest.
"You are a monster." David's voice was stern, clear, and factual. Your gaze turned to him finally, seeing the way he stared so longingly out at the sea before turning to you.
"What the fuck David?" You snapped, feeling like this was not the time for him to throw his own values onto you. You had killed someone, taken a life, and instead of trying to bring you any consultation, he insulted you?
"Don't you think I feel shitty enough? Fuck this, I know, okay? I know you don't need to stand here and rub it in my face!" Why had you expected anything else from the blonde, you couldn't lie to David, and he had neither lied to you. He was, on many occasions, the truth.
"You are a monster, Y/N. You will never die; you will never age." He hummed, ignoring your outburst as he took out a cigarette and lit it. He held it up to his lips, taking a long drag, dropping his hand against the railing before blowing out the smoke. "But you must feed." There was a finality in his town that made you suffer as if you were the only one who noticed the morbid aberration of your circumstances. But how were you supposed to explain your regret about eating a sheep to a hungry pack of wolves?
"What if I don't want to?" You asked, voice hoarse from the raw emotions you felt. You wanted to smack him, berate him to find another time to torment you.
"You'll kill someone you actually like." He whispered an answer that took you off guard. Eyes trailing back to him, you noticed that haze. A similar one to what Michael used to wear whenever he encountered an old memory. Yes, David seemed to be dancing in his past.
"But make no mistake, Y/N. You are a monster. A filthy abomination that feeds off the weak, the defenseless." He focused his cold gaze on you, "You will fall apart the day you realize just how much you enjoy it. The screams, the suffering, the pain. It will be the only consistent factor in your life. And when you look around and see the constant deterioration of mankind. You will turn and see us." He took another drag of his cigarette before dropping it, suffocating its flame with his boot. "We are monsters too, Y/N."
"I will never let you forget it. I will tell you every day before you rest and when you awake." There was an odd gentleness to his tone, one that made you look up at him once more. Although you could hardly bear to keep eye contact with the man.
"Why?" You had a thousand questions running wild throughout your head, an intimidating rampage and riot pushing through, begging millions of questions to be answered. They stuck in your throat like a lump, a noose around your vocals, keeping you silent. Finally, you managed to settle on that one word. Why?
"Do you think a lion thinks of itself as a monster when it eats a gazelle?"
"We aren't animals, David–"
"But aren't we? We're all just mammals trying to get by. A lion doesn't feel guilty for killing because that's what a lion simply does. They need to in order to survive." His eyes seemed to burn into you, a desperate sense of vulnerability taking hold of his features. It seemed David wanted to spare you from your own feelings, to clear the path you were going on, no doubt one he had walked before.
"But what if we asked the gazelle what they thought of the lion. When a meal would mean losing a brother or sister, mother or father, the gazelle would see the lion as a monster too."
A heavy wind blew through your hair, reminding you of the night air. Whispering about the daytime and how you would never be able to see it again. Feel its warmth kiss your skin, see its joyful birth across the horizon. The wind mocked you, and the night sky never felt so empty before.
"So?" You asked, wanting a conclusion to this lesson. A small chuckle parted from David, the blonde finding your impatience amusing.
"The term monster is subjectable. It depends on who you ask, rosebud. To them," He gestured to the late-night party-goers. "You will always and forever be a monster." But before you could frown, even dare settle on that phrase for too long. He turned to you, taking your hand and squeezing it. As if you'd let go, leaving him alone. "But to us, you are everything."
"I'll call you a monster until the word doesn't sting anymore."
He whispered, cupping your cheek. You noted the lack of his gloves, for the first time touching his bare skin. He leaned closer, kissing the top of your forehead lovingly. It was an embrace in some way, a sweet and gentle promise. That no matter what you become, he'd love you.
"We'll be down at the boardwalk if you want to join us; you can't stay sulking forever, rosebud.." He whispered, leaving you alone to think once more.
When you did make your way down the sandy docks, feeling grain against your shoe as you walked with a sunken head. You wondered how your life had changed so drastically since you came to Santa Carla, whether everything was for better or worse.
"Hey, Darlin!"
The booming voice of a happy Paul called to you, making you look up. Before you stood your gang of boys leaning against the wooden railing of the boardwalk pier. Their bikes were parked beside them, all smiling as they looked at you. There was fondness in their eyes you could describe, but as you walked over and were encircled by your boys. All equally ecstatic to see you—you felt less alone. Welcomed even. You still had a long way to go, but for once in a long while, did you feel alright. Perhaps, becoming a vampire wasn't the worst thing that's ever happened to you.
buwan’s notes: I need to be put under watch, I have been sobbing relentlessly to Older by 5SOS, I’ve missed a bunch of music from their band and I’m really honestly mad 😭. This fic is definitely inspired by mentioned song, this fic has all of my favourite lyrics from the song scattered around its paragraphs. Please do enjoy <3.
episode summary: Dwayne didn’t want to leave his human life without you, and he most definitely doesn’t want to leave his vampire life without you either.
content warnings: BEING FUCKING SAD. This whole mini-fic is literally just Dwayne being in love with you.
tags: @britany1997 @desoolate .
[dwayne x fem!reader.]
“I don’t want to be immortal.” Dwayne mumbled, looking at the midnight sky. You hummed, “you’re still thinking about their offer?” Dwayne could feel your hands run themselves through his dark locks. “I don’t wanna leave you..” his gaze switched to you, looking down at him with an undeserving loving stare.
“You don’t have to, I’ll be with you.” You replied, continuing to stare into Dwayne’s brown irises, admiring the love of your life.
“You’d..give up your humanity? For me? Do you really wanna do that, love?” He slowly sat up, your eyes following his movements, Dwayne’s question made you think for a few seconds, you’d get to leave everyone else behind, it’ll be you and Dwayne, for a long, long while.
“If forever is something you see us having, why not?” You pulled the man to your lips, giving him a reassurance he didn’t know he needed. “You’ll have to kill, and feed on others, that doesn’t scare you?” Dwayne mumbled into your lips, holding your wrists which held his face in a warmth, memorizing how much he loved feeling you.
“what more do you want to ask for other than yes, Dwayne?” You laughed. “I just want you to be sure, I’ll be the only thing you’ll have, and you’ll be mine.” You shook your head at his reasoning. “I’m sure, I don’t want to be older, at least, not without you.”
“Hi, love.” Dwayne greeted, rubbing his eyes of sleep. You were huddled by the fountain, safely watching the sun turn in for the night.
“Hi.” You replied curtly. You felt your boyfriend’s presence beside you. “What’re you thinking about?” His arm snaked its way onto your shoulders, pulling you close to his side. “I just missed the sun is all..” Dwayne could almost laugh at your excuse, you were never one to lose sleep over something small, especially the ball of heat in the sky.
A small silence befalls the both of you, a cool air replaces the hot sun, signalling that the moon was to show, and it would be safe to traverse the earth.
“We’d be really old by now, you know that?” You broke the silence, looking over to Dwayne, who seemed busy looking over your features, how your smile was so soothing to him, he didn’t need to stare at the sun to be reminded of its warmth when he had you.
Dwayne moved up to your eyes, the way your eyelashes would cover your wonderful irises, the way they’d kiss your cheeks for every time you blinked. One thing vampirism couldn’t take away from him was his admiration for you. His dear, devoted delicate.
“Good thing we became vampires then, I don’t think I’d like you all saggy and crinkly.” Dwayne joked, squeezing your shoulder in a light-hearted way. “That’s mean!” You pushed him away, your nose scrunching up from his dumb joke.
“You know you’d be crinkly too,” you snickered, joining along. “I’m so happy I met you all those years ago.” Dwayne expressed, his laugh dying down.
“The boys will wanna go down into the town soon.” Dwayne reminded, taking his arm off of your shoulders to rest his hand on top of yours, on the cold stone of the cave.
“You’re right, I should go get Laddie ready then, no?” You tilted your head off into the direction of the kid’s small alcove. Dwayne watched as you stood up, getting ready to walk off.
His rough hands stopped you, making you almost stumble at the tug. “I love you. So much. I hope you never leave me.” Dwayne confessed, your heart felt like it was going to beat again, hearing those words come out of your dark-haired boyfriend.
“The time you leave me, I’ll forever be bleeding love.” You pulled Dwayne up, making him stand with you, you loved these moments, the most vulnerable, the ones where Dwayne was still human, in your eyes.
As a vampire, you slowly start to lose your humanity the longer you live on. To you, it always seemed like Dwayne would never experience that, he still loves with all of his heart, even if he doesn’t show it.
You’re glad that one thing didn’t go away.
“Well, let’s hope the world spins a little slower then, I want all the time we can get.” Your hands caressed the dark-haired man’s jaw. Your eyes flicked from his lips to his eyes before you leaned in, your lips meeting his once again.
“They murdered him— they fuckin’—“ Dwayne punched the wall of the cave, the thud echoing against the caves, “they took Laddie too..” you sighed, it was the night everything went wrong, when the Emersons decided to ruin their lives.
It was the three of them, you, him, Laddie. Dwayne had everything he wanted. A band of the loyalest friends you could get, the immortality, the love of his life.
“We’re gonna take our revenge, I’ll rip their heads off their fucking bodies for ruining us.” Dwayne growled, his vampire features showing through his human one. You didn’t know whether or not to be as angry.
You weren’t alive, you remembered, your heart didn’t beat, but it still felt like it did, Marko was a friend to all of you, a brother even. Even though the boys had an evil reputation to upheld, Marko promised he’d show you how to sew after you’d drunkenly rambled about your dreams of marrying Dwayne.
You remembered what Marko told you that one sunrise, all before you went to sleep. “Your guys’ love is tailor-made. One with no tragedy at the end.”
He wanted to help you make your wedding dress. You mourned the death of your curly-headed brother, you weeped and wailed as you watched his body fall off the rails, onto the cursed frog brothers.
You couldn’t reply to Dwayne, only stopping him when he tried to leave your side to band with his mourning brothers for revenge.
“I don’t want to lose you.” You whimpered, your eyes pleaded for him to stay, that’s why he didn’t look at you. “I don’t want to lose another tonight.” Your sentence left you with a whisper, holding Dwayne’s ring-clad hand tighter.
Dwayne stayed quiet, his head fighting a battle with his feelings, your desperation made him want to stay, to comfort you, to show that he knew he wasn’t the only one hurting.
In the end, his brothers needed him, and for once he chose something over you. “I’m sorry love, my brothers, our brothers, they need me. I have to go with them.” Dwayne whispered back, his hand travelled to your cheek, his thumb wiping away a rare tear.
“You promised you’d stay with me, our forever, remember?” You were always good at backtalk, he knew he promised that he’d be here for you, like all those years ago when he told you that he was going to be the only person you know, and you, him.
“I can’t.. Marko didn’t deserve that, you know as well as I do—“ Dwayne stopped you from continuing your complaints, fearing he wouldn’t be able to take revenge, and he’d know he’d lose his brothers’ trust and he didn’t want to lose another thing in the same night either.
“How will I know you’ll return to me? What if, you leave me alone?” You spat, your eyes starting to water, you were a sensitive vampire, feeling instead of feasting.
“I will return to you. When have I ever not?” Dwayne didn’t want to think about the weight of his words, only the fact that this was an unwritten promise to survive his battle with the Emersons to return back to your side.
This was the moment you knew you couldn’t stop Dwayne. As much as it hurt you to let go of his palm, you gently pulled his hand away from your cheek, a silent look in your eyes told him to stay safe, and to come back to you.
Dwayne didn’t say anything else, walking off to join his brothers’ on their path to revenge.
“You’re a huge liar, you know that?” You mumbled, holding a ripped piece of leather in your hands, the tips of your fingers remembering every texture it could feel of the fabric.
You were alone, the huge cave was yours, bitterly so. They didn’t return, none of them, not David, not Paul, especially not Dwayne, your Dwayne.
You knew they had gotten themselves killed, it took a while to realize that Dwayne probably knew he wouldn’t return to you either. His words were an empty promise, so that you would feel at ease.
And you hate that it did ease you, for a while anyway.
Star was the one that confirmed that your lover left you. She picked up the scraps, the remains of what she could of your boyfriend, returning it to you with a guilty pain.
Star never resented you, she was..somewhat happy you didn’t come with the boys. When Star was first initiated, you were there to help her get past the scary realization that she was going to be immortal and alone.
Star remembered how you held her with the warmth of the sunlight, she asked herself how you could be so kind, being a monster of the night. You merely joined your lover to the end, and it was painfully clear that you hadn’t had a mission in mind, other than seeing Dwayne through it all, forever.
So, in a poor attempt to give her thanks, and her apology, she returned what she could of Dwayne to you. Hugging you only when you seemed to lose every strength in your legs as your hands cradled the pieces of Dwayne’s favourite jacket.
“What happened?” You whispered, your tears forever flowing from your eyes, “his jacket’s all ruined?— this was his favourite, how— I—“ your lips couldn’t form a sentence when your mind had dawned on the fact that Dwayne was dead and that your forever had ended.
Star only hugged you tightly as you screamed and weeped into her chest. She wished she could’ve done more.
You looked around the empty cave, only memories remained inside, the fountain, the little trinkets Paul collected, the books Dwayne accumulated, the fabrics Marko had stolen, the cigarette butts David threw away. You wish you could say everything was here but it wasn’t, the boys weren’t here.
You had long packed your stuff, a duffel bag full of clothes you could bring, all from various piles of whatever you could find from the boys, mostly Dwayne’s and clothing you’ve bought.
There was nothing left in the cave for you, the one reason to stay wasn’t there anymore. You gathered the last of your things as Star waited outside, waiting to help you travel through the night to wherever you wanted to go.
You knew you should hate Star, for sealing the boys’ fate, when she had snitched to the Emersons of their vampirism. There wasn’t much options though, you had to stop your pity party, you had to leave, and only Star knew how to help you. You were the only vampire in Santa Carla now, and she knew.
You gave yourself one last tour of the cave, peeking into the personal alcoves the boys had given themselves, reminiscing, getting ready to let go. They weren’t human, but they made the cave feel like home, it made you think that maybe they didn’t lose their humanity after all.
Finally, you stopped at your shared alcove with Dwayne, the ground littered with books he read with you, the wilted flowers he stole off of a couple for you, the candle lit bed was unmade, from the last time it was used. You didn’t have the heart to fix anything up.
It felt like if you fixed it up, you’d finally be erasing the fact that the boys were ever here, and how could you do that to Dwayne?
One last sweep of the room, your hand gently swiped the bed on the cave floor, before reluctantly pulling away. “You ready?” You jumped at the sudden voice, seeing Star at the entrance of the cave, looking at you.
Her hands fiddled with themselves, obviously uncomfortable being back at the cave. You nodded, holding your duffel bag tight to your figure before walking off with Star, every step felt dreadful, getting closer and closer to beyond forever and leaving everything you know behind.
Although, something makes you feel like Dwayne would be glad, that you’re not moping, that you’re not angry he hadn’t fulfilled his promise of forever, his dear beloved delicate.
Synopsis: You still ponder what really killed you, the day you died or the day you lost your humanity. When the dawn becomes something you'll never see again, will you ever be able to accept your new nature?
Summary: Micheals Ex-Girlfriend received a concerning phone call from Lucy begging her to come and check up on a now distant and unrecognizable Micheal. But what was meant to be a simple reunion and check-in, instead leads to four very rambunctious bikers and an old lover, to be extremely opposed to letting you leave again.
Warning: Animal mutilation, blood, blood drinking, minor injuries, hurt/comfort, some angst, grinding, murder, corrupted representation of Christianity
Part One
Word Count: 10k
There will be no explicit or detailed smut because I wanted to keep this fic gender neutral! I'm sorry to anyone who expected some spicer scenes with our boys!
Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me and motivate me to keep writing! Please keep leaving them since I love to read them! This will be the final chapter in the"Last Night" series since I'm dying to write about something new. Let me know what you thought of this!
If you needed to explain how you were feeling, the best way to describe it would be in a state of constant panic. Your mind was throbbing, eyes catching onto everything, yet nothing simultaneously. You had become all too aware of the rising sun, the bright light blinding you. Planting a powerful migraine against your head. You couldn't breathe, you couldn't feel but felt everything at the same time. Heard nothing but could make sense of the squirrels hopping from branch to branch. You cried, utterly unaware of where you were. In that moment of panic, when that monster finally let you go. You didn't look back; you didn't stop until you felt like you had put enough distance between you and Santa Carla.
You sat somewhere in the forest, crawled against a tree as if the wide bark would somehow hide you as you wheezed for air. The moist soil underneath you tainted your pants, leaving you looking exactly how you felt. Some of your blood had soaked up into the top of your shirt, while the rest grew dry and uncomfortable against your skin.
Your body ached. Your teeth burned, and so did your hands. Glancing down, you nearly threw yourself back into despair at the sight of your sharp, nail-like claws. What happened to you? And most importantly, what were you now?
You couldn't help but wail, your knees pressed tightly against your chest as you wrapped your arms around yourself. As if you could protect yourself from whatever was happening, even though you knew how nonsensical that hope was. It still provided some comfort for you.
You had stayed in the position for hours, and although your sobbing was long replaced with tiredness, you tried staying awake. But something about the sun forced your eyes closed, and when you opened them once more, the sun was setting, and your throat burned. You groaned, sitting up from your lying position. You didn't know what to do; you couldn't return to Lucy's, especially if she had something to do with this. The thought made your stomach tie itself in knots, a sinking feeling nearly pressing you against the ground. How have you gotten yourself into this position?
How could anyone do this to you? Your fists balled at the thought, your sharp nails slicing into your palm. You slowly got up, stumbling around for a little. You could hear so much, could see more precisely than ever before. It gave you a massive headache; some part of you just wanted to curl up against the tree stump and wake up from this nightmare. But you couldn't, no matter how much that thought broke you. This was real; whatever was happening was real.
You stumbled aimlessly through the woods, trying to figure things out away from the rest of society. A part of you felt safe, knowing that he couldn't find you in the middle of nowhere. The sharp sound of a twig snapping pulled you out of your thoughts, predatory eyes instantly zeroing in on the location the sound originated from. The sound came from a bush, the leaves rustling as something clearly nudged and navigated through the shrubbery. You stood still, not trusting yourself. A peculiar itch, almost like a nervous tick, urged you towards the noise. Your hands craved for something, your teeth ached, and your throat felt dry. Your body screamed for something you didn't understand or refused to recognize.
Your breath caught in your throat as a small, brown bunny peeked out from the bushes. Its small button nose twitched as it sniffed and analyzed its surroundings. It's cheeks made the whiskers flick, small paws tapping the ground several times before dedicating the mossy floor save enough to hop on. You froze, that nagging urge growing into a raging protest. Before you could even hesitate to question the simple thought, you pounced. The small, high-pitched screech of the bunny brought tears to your eyes as you gripped it. Getting the small fluffy body to your mouth and biting into it. The tiny creature uttered another small cry before going silent, its previously kicking paws and legs halting before slowly sinking and stilling completely. But you didn't care; you couldn't, not when that god-awful nectar was pouring down your throat. Calming the fire, quenching your pain, all through the price of another.
You were messy, and the grip of your jaw was so fierce that you could hear several crunching of bones under your grip. You gulped up whatever you could, blood dripping out the corners of your mouth, trailing down your neck, and staining your shirt collar. You sucked until nothing came out of the poor bunny anymore, letting go and looking down at the life you just stole. Realization dawns on you like boulders, dropping the poor lifeless body and beginning to weep. You killed something; you killed that bunny. You felt hysterical, hands twisting themselves in your hair as you hyperventilated. The word monster takes the form of a mantra, marching to the beat of your racing heartbeat.
The burning in your throat died down but was quickly replaced by the aching of your heart. Mourning what you had done it took you nearly an hour to calm down. You had tried wiping and scrubbing off the blood on your body, most likely smudging and making your appearance much worse, but at the moment, all you wanted was that crimson color off of you. It stained, and you weren't sure if you could ever indeed wash it off. It didn't stain your skin, but your soul would bear this mark for eternity.
You gently shifted the bunny, starting to dig a small hole beside the bushes it hopped out from. Your appearance couldn't get any worse now, blood and dirt-stained clothes. Grimy hands, the dark soil stuck underneath your fingernails. When considering the hole deep enough to prevent any predator from digging up the carcass, gently lower the bunny, covering it with dirt and patting the ground flat afterward. You sat before the makeshift grave, not knowing what to think or feel. There was too much, and as you sat rooted to the ground, you tried figuring out what to do next. A small thought came to you: if anyone could help you now, at least give you refuge, it would be the church. Wasn't that their whole shtick? Providing aid and guidance in moments of doubt, because if that was the case, you'd be a perfect candidate for practicing their moral codes.
But you had spent nearly the entire day wallowing and mourning your old life, who you were, and fearing what the setting sun made you. No, showing up the way you were now, covered in blood, was a sure way to send a raging mob after you holding pitchforks and blazing torches. You needed to find shelter, hide out the night, and adequately recuperate. But you had no money, and you'd rather die than return to Lucy's home.
Was that why she had actually brought you here? The thought made your skin colder than it was, but an even worse thought crossed your mind. Twisting your heart in a brutal, vice-like grip. Did Michael know?
Time seemed to tick past you at that moment, the singing breeze creating a symphony of rustling bushes and leaves. It all moved through you, past you, like you weren't really there. You didn't want to breathe, think, or even consider that thought a possibility. Micheal had always been a lousy liar. Currently, that was the only knowledge you had to ground yourself. You tried to control your breathing, but with your rampaging thoughts and the subtle taste of copper in your mouth, you just couldn't. It wasn't that easy, and looking ahead simply felt too overwhelming for you. So, you took things step-by-step, figuring the first thing you could do was get out of this damned forest.
So, you began walking straight ahead following the setting sun. The orange hue occasionally broke through the thick foliage of branches and leaves. Cascading delicate beams of light onto the mossy floor, the beauty of the sight calmed you. It felt separate from the rest of the world, like a slight pause for you to soak up before returning to the never-resting society you belonged—or instead, used to belong to.
You couldn't tell how long you walked or where you were, but you knew you had finally made it when you saw the flash of car lights. The sun had finally died for the day, lessening your headache considerably. You finally made it to a gravel-like road, not having any official pavement but clearly hardened from car tires throughout the years. You watched as the car drove on, hoping to follow it to a more populated area. You let the path guide you. You had to be careful; the course contained so many depressions and holes in the ground you didn't want to accidentally twist your ankle. With your current streak of bad luck, you wouldn't put something so ridiculous above you. The longer you walked, the more you couldn't help but wonder how anyone could travel down this path in a car without getting incredibly motion sick.
However, when you finally saw a house in the upcoming clearing, you weren't greeted by the gradual introduction of neighborhood streets but instead a large farm. Fields and crops litter the area to your left, while pens are to your right. No doubt about yielding livestock. The area practically reeked of cows in the most unpleasant way imaginable. But you found yourself relieved; a farm like this wouldn't have the toughest surveillance to beat, if any, and you felt safer knowing that. You snuck around, keeping yourself hidden as you watched the farmer exit his truck and enter his home.
You could see so much clearer if the sun had never really set. You glanced around before you found a wooden barn on the south side of the field, rushing your way over and trying to pry the rusted doors open. It didn't work, at least it wouldn't if you didn't want to rip the door off its hinges. You walked around, seeing a broken window. Small, sharp jagged pieces of glass still stuck out here and there, but you managed to lift yourself through it. Not without a complimentary scratch, a low hiss escaped you as you glanced at your cut arm. Your eyes watched as your blood cried from the cut, and a sick part of you was tempted to lick it clean.
The barn was clearly too old to still be in use; the only company you had was heaps of hay, creaking wood, and a roof that threatened to collapse onto you any minute. The barn had two stories, although the second story only covered one-half of the first floor, a long unstable ladder leading towards it. You had come so far, and the thought of being above viewpoint was somewhat comforting. So, you carefully climbed up the ladder. Letting out a sigh of relief when you made it, throwing yourself onto a lump of hay in the far corner. You felt hidden, away from anything or anyone.
"They ought' to be here!" Paul exclaimed, clearly exasperated and exhausted from this situation. They had been looking for you all night, neither of them being able to get an ounce of rest knowing you, their mate, had gone missing in Santa Carla of all places. They had traced your steps the next evening when you failed to show up, following your faint scent into a shady alleyway. To say Marko nearly hyperventilated at the smell and sight of your dried blood was an understatement. They were all beyond worried, sick to the bone. Their only consolation is that you were alive; they would've felt it had your bond died. No, you were still alive, and they couldn't rest until they found you.
"I smell it too; it's faint. They must've been here; their blood must've dried a while ago." Dwayne hadn't spoken a word since you went missing, only ever speaking up when he needed to. He had to remain calm; in a situation like this, David and the others needed a rock to ground themselves on, and despite the emotional anguish he felt, clawing at his heart to cry out for you senselessly, he remained stoic.
"Search the area. I don't care if you have to stick your nose in the filthy soil; find where the scent leads." David growled; he felt the worst out of everyone; he felt a horrible, cumbersome chain tying itself around his throat. Guilt. He was the coven leader; his job was to ensure his mates were safe. He was immortal, a god-damned creature of hell, but what was the point of being invincible if he couldn't even protect the people who mattered? He shouldn't have let you go that night; he shouldn't have listened to the others. It was in his instinct to take you with him, to keep you in his sight, safe.
None of them really conversed much since you disappeared, sure they were all mates, but your absence left them incomplete. If the conversation wasn't about finding you, they didn't have it.
Micheal was fairing the worst, an undeniable feeling of guilt similar to David's settling on his body. Sure, David was supposed to protect everyone. But ultimately, he was the reason you came to Santa Carla in the first place. Maybe if he had hidden it better, his adjustment to his new life, his mother would've never sent you here to hell city of all places.
Marko couldn't stay still; he had even tried some of Paul's more vigorous weeds to keep him calm. But he couldn't, rushing from place to place like a frightened cat. Some might mistake this as hyperness, but the boys knew the real reason. Pure, unfiltered anxiety. Like a bunny hopping from place to place, a weasel who can't stay still, Marko found you first. Sleeping in a curled, protective form, body covered in several pieces of hay. But the sight of dried blood over you, not hearing your heartbeat, his world crashed down onto him.
“Y/N?” His voice was croaked, raw from emotion. The simple word, breathless as it was, caught the attention of everyone.
Marko kneeled, letting his hand ghost your shoulder and arm before shaking you. Seeing your eyes open, as tired and irritated as they were, brought such relief to him that he could cry. However, Paul was a step ahead of him, being the first to join Marko in fussing over you.
David, Dwayne, and Micheal followed soon after. Dwayne wasted no time helping you sit up, carefully inspecting your body until letting his eyes land on the cut on your arms, studying it carefully before grabbing the cloth tied around his waist and making a makeshift bandage to prevent dirt from coming into your wounds.
"What happened to you?" Micheal finally piped up, grabbing your hands and inspecting the dried blood. He only let out his own breath when he realized it wasn't your blood. He pulled you into a tight hug, his hold tight and unrelinquishing as he nuzzled his head into the top of your hair.
"Stop hogging her!" Paul complained, shoving Micheal off. It wasn't anything too forceful, more like a nudge. When Micheal pulled away to fight with Paul, Marko swooped in and pulled you into his arms. Taking on a similar position to Micheals. "You made us worried." He murmured into your neck, giving you another squeeze to reassure yourself you were there. Safe in his arms again.
All the boys had been so ecstatic to see you; even David's shoulders dropped as he sighed of pure relief. But he was more analytical than the others; he recognized the lack of your heartbeat. The way blood seemed to cling onto you, he could sense it. Somehow, you had become a vampire. The thought made him cold, even more, frigid than he already was. No, his anger was blazing, but it did not radiate a scalding heat but the opposite. His fury was glacial.
"Wait outside for us." His authoritative voice commanded, sending silence across the shabby barn. They all send pleading looks toward you before slowly leaving. Dwayne grabbed David's shoulder, reminding him to be gentle with whatever the bleach blonde had planned. When the boys had finally left, you felt your ability to breathe return. You had been so overwhelmed, thousands of thoughts and questions running through you. Why weren't they afraid? You were a bloody mess! You could understand Micheal looking for you, but the others as well?
Your small moment of relief was quickly replaced with dread as you realized you were alone in a room with a man you couldn't bring yourself to lie to. It was silent, the sound of singing crickets seemingly decorating the night air. It would be relaxing if you didn't hate the oppression its silence came with. Slowly getting up, you winced at the reopening of your cut.
David slowly walked over, carefully reaching out and cupping your cheeks. He stayed like that momentarily, simply soaking in the sight of you before him. Eventually, his hand traveled lower before pushing down the collar of your shirt, revealing the two puncture wounds that changed your life forever. His eyes flashed yellow, a low, animalistic sound escaping him.
"Who?"
"What?" You snapped yourself out of your lost haze, finally meeting David's cold stare. It wasn't directed at you, but you, unfortunately, didn't know that.
"Who did this to you?"
The question seemingly transported you. Back into the body of a helpless individual, losing their lives in a dingy alleyway. The fear, the panic, it made you crumble. Your knees went weak as you wobbled back onto the floor. "I—" you struggled, trying to put on a brave face in front of such stern eyes. "I—I didn't know them."
That answer provided a scowl to erupt across David's features, a feeling of uselessness washing over him. How was he supposed to avenge you if you couldn't give him anything to work off of? He sighed, his mind wanting to push further, but a simple glance at your quivering form prevented him from doing so. "Come on, rosebud, let's get you somewhere safe." He eventually settled on that, watching you stumble before picking you up. If he hadn't pushed you enough tonight, he lifted off the ground to reach the bottom, and promptly, the outside of the barn sent your mind reeling.
You wanted to run, but the feeling of being in someone's arms. Someone you knew, someone who felt oddly safe to you had you staying. The boys glanced at you two, Dwayne coming over and taking you from David's arms. He saw your weak and drowsy state, his heart clenching at the sight. "She hasn't had enough blood." He started calmly, watching you soullessly rest your head against his chest. "We'll give her some in the cave, then she'll be able to recover someplace safe." Dwayne nodded at David's statement, readjusting you in his arms. The movement prompted you to open your eyes, the smell of his leather jacket oddly settling to you. "Get some rest Y/N; we'll take care of you now. You'll feel better soon," you nodded slowly. Closing your eyes and resigning yourself to whatever the future holds for you now. It couldn't get any worse anyways.
"Are they still sleeping?"
An exasperated sigh echoed throughout the cave, Dwayne rolling his eyes before rubbing his temples. "You asked five minutes ago; yes, they're still sleeping!"
A loud hush followed from David and Micheal, both scolding the two for talking so loudly. Everyone was on edge; you had slept for nearly two days now. And although odd sleeping patterns weren't rare for fledglings, you were a neglected fledgling, which provided them all with many concerns and worries. The birth of a new vampire was often labeled as a fledgling, as in the eyes of vampires, you, and your very unique nature, was akin to that of a baby. Similarly to neglecting babies upon birth, they weren't sure what consequences you'd suffer from upon waking.
"David, we need to wake them. They need to feed." Micheal chimed in, his need to coddle you almost overbearing. Although the boys had given him a fair share of tough love, they made sure his fledgling stage was a healthy one. He was more moody than ever, but changes like those were common for at least a year after turning. Although David acted the coldest, he had been the most persistent that Micheal was feeding enough and adequately. A complete mother-hen in denial.
David sighed, getting up from his wheelchair-like throne and making his way over to the bed you and Dwayne were snuggled in. The sight would've warmed his heart if the circumstances would've been different. He walked around before settling down on the edge of the bed closest to you. He gave Dwayne an approving nod, "Wake them; they've rested enough." He whispered, gently stroking your cold cheek before pulling away. His poor rosebud.
Dwayne gently shook your shoulder, shifting you off of him in order not to scare you when you woke up, watching you slowly stir awake, blinking the fatigue off of your cute expression.
For you, it has, somehow, gotten worse.
Waking up, you felt feverish; your body ached similarly to how it had done hours ago. When you had—had killed that bunny.
Your hand instinctively clutched at your throat, trying to somehow dull the ache. Your hearing was blurred, but you heard distant hushes and orders before fully coming too. Your eyes focused on the concerned figures of David and Dwayne, practically looking over you as Dwayne took your hand away from your throat, hushing your pain-fueled whines. "Shh, it's okay. You're okay." Dwayne's soft but stern voice seemed to stabilize you, but the familiar need left your body twisting and shifting. Every little muscle felt utterly uncomfortable, aching torturously.
David gently combed his fingers through your hair, trying his best to calm you down. Seeing his mate, his little vampire, in such distress ruined him. "It's okay, rosebud, we're here to help." He hummed, glancing at Dwayne as they silently communicated. They slowly helped you sit up, watching the way your hand unknowingly sharpened its nails. Your body prepares itself for a meal.
"What's happened?" You stammered, hating the way you were losing control. A deep sense of fear washed over you, draining into your being. "I—David, Dwayne—"You couldn't form a proper sentence, but the words you did manage to say put the two eldest vampires into a protective frenzy.
Dwayne hushed you, gently rubbing a soothing pattern against your back. David already shrugged off his jacket, shifting his shirt to properly expose his neck to you. He watched with narrowed eyes how your gaze halted against his suddenly exposed skin, watching the small bob of your throat as you swallowed at sight.
Dwayne gently cupped the back of your head, nudging you towards David. "You're hungry, baby; look at David. He's offering you a meal, sweetheart. You'll feel better once you feed; trust us; we'll take care of you."
Your unsure gaze flashed between them, that odd feeling once again tugging at you. Your body, more than ever, felt pulled to them; they gave you comfort. A need to be with them, and in a moment of weakness, you thought yourself giving in to them. Letting your body get pulled; once close enough, David snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to practically be sitting in his lap. You inhaled the sweet scent that seemingly surrounded David, making your tense shoulders loosen, your body easing into the comfort that David provided. The bleach blood rubbed your back, trying to soothe you further. "Come on, rosebud, let those instincts take over."
The two could tell you weren't going to take a bite on your own, your mind and body too perplexed to accept the reality of your situation. Dwayne reached over, letting one of his fingernails extend into a claw-like shape and making a small slash at David's neck, letting his crimson blood trickle from the wound.
As if the smell and sight triggered your buried instincts, you latched onto David's neck. Your fangs pierce the skin with a painful clumsiness typical for a fledgling. But the sound of your eager gulps had both of the vampires relaxing, Dwayne gently moving your hair to one side as David held you close. "That's it, good job." The blonde praised, keeping a firm but caring grip on the back of your head, not letting you go until you had a full feeding. The praise, the touch, and the comfort from both of them allow you to fully relax. Letting out small sighs of relief as you drank greedily, gulping down the sweet crimson from David. Letting his blood calm every screaming nerve inside you, replacing the dull ache with a welcomed high. "Good job, sweetheart; see how good it feels to feed?" Dwayne's voice cooed gently into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
It took a while before you unlatched from David, his blood messily spread and smeared across your mouth. The sight nearly made Dwayne coo at your adorable form, your eyes a little glassy from feeling so overwhelmed. David, on the other hand, felt overly satisfied, watching your relaxed state of a post-feed high, gently nudging you to lay back down.
"What a messy little fledgling you are." He teased softly, chuckling as he watched your eyes droop. Now that your needs have been met, you feel an unexplainable tiredness, the suddenness of your exhaustion setting your nerves off once more. Before you could push yourself up again, Dwayne guided you back down. Covering you in a blanket, "Sleep baby, it's normal to feel tired after such a big meal."
You nodded, at that moment, not overthinking. "We'll be here when you wake up; rest now, rosebud." You heard David's voice whisper, the two vampires watching you drift off into a peaceful slumber.
Once they were sure you were fully asleep, they slowly crawled out of the bed. Greeting the upset-looking vampires in the main hall, all angry about being benched by the oldest. "Why did you get to feed her?" Marko cursed, casting an irritated glare toward David, who sat back down with smugness. Flashing your sloppy bite mark off to the others with pride. "Because I'm the oldest and our coven leader Marko." He explained calmly, reveling in the jealousy of others.
Paul groaned, having laid himself back up on the couch. His head was hidden in one of the cushions. "They probably looked so cute.." Dwayne smiled, your hesitance and gradual acceptance being awfully adorable in his eyes. "They sure was." He mused, making both Marko and Paul groan.
Micheal sighed, a part of him just glad you ate. But he feared for what you'd be like after waking up from your nap, with a clear head this time. Would you hate him? Indeed you couldn't accept this life so quickly; among all of them, he was the only one who didn't see this feeding as acceptance. He knew you still had a lot of things to say, and none of the boys were ready to hear it.
When you woke up again, your body felt better, stronger, and more rejuvenated. You couldn't really remember what happened when you woke up the first time, only having a hazy memory of David and Dwayne being by your side. You sat up, looking around you and the bed you were In. The sheer curtains around the bed didn't let you see anything besides silhouettes around the cave, prompting you to get up and shift out of bed.
You glanced around, analyzing your surroundings. When did you get inside a cave? You could hear distant chatter, following the sound until you entered the central part of the cave. A decrepit fountain in the center of it all, your steps echoing across the stone floors.
"You're awake!" Paul perked up as he turned around at the sound of footsteps, grinning as he saw you. He waved you over, watching your confused stare before finally making your way around and sitting down on the couch beside him. The couch cushions were soft and overused, letting you practically sink into the pillow-like cushion.
"How do you feel?" He asked, his eyes carrying the familiar blown-out expression you were used to. "Right now? I'm surprisingly fine." Paul grinned at the answer, taking a quick drag of his joint before moving closer. "Now that's all I ever want to hear, baby."
"Piss off, you crack-head!" Micheal hissed, shoving Paul's face away from yours. You jumped at the sudden intrusion, standing up from the couch. "Micheal, we need to talk." You said sternly, ignoring the way Paul cackled behind you two.
The brunette nodded, walking back over to the bed the boys had set up for you. If David returned from his hunt early with Dwayne, the two overprotective vampires would roast him alive if they found out he had taken you out of their nest. He slid the curtains closed, trying to regain a semblance of privacy for you. "Okay," he murmured, crossing his legs as you two settled on the bed. "Hit me with it."
You sighed, initially wanting to leave wherever the hell you were. But you didn't seem to have the strength to settle back on the bed, sitting criss-cross and fiddling with the hem of your shirt. "What the hell has been going on? I mean—what am I? What are you?" Questions kept escaping you like a bunch of word vomit, making Micheal hold up his hands to try and silence you.
"Slow down," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't want to hurt you with this information, but he knew it was a hard pill to swallow.
"Firstly, you're a vampire. We're not sure from who, but someone had turned you. The act is done by being bitten and then promptly consuming the other's blood."
As if the world didn't feel like it was falling down onto your shoulders, the cumbersome weight of your malicious reality certainly did wonders in keeping you in a constant state of disparity. You didn't want to believe Micheal, but you knew better than to sit in a puddle of denial. It wouldn't change a thing; you'd just drag out the pain longer. Before you could properly grieve your past life, the two devil twins came barging into your space. Jumping onto the mattress, making all of you bounce into the air before landing not so gracefully against the mattress.
"Jesus Christ, you two! Will you chill out? This ain't exactly easy for her to take in." Micheal argued, sitting back up with an irritated stare. But there was nothing much his words could do as the two blondes surrounded you.
"Cheer up, sugar! Being a vampire ain't all that bad; we can do some pretty cool things too!" Marko cheered, his energy quickly matched by Paul as they tried to cheer you up. They couldn't stand the sight of you sulking, no one in the cave could, but everyone was so preoccupied with your situation that even the century-old immortals didn't know what to do.
But you still couldn't get over the fact that you now had to kill people; what had happened to you filled you with such rage that you didn't know what to do with yourself. You had been wronged, and every fiber of your miserable being wanted to rip whoever did this to you apart by the seams. "Mhm, sounds great, Marko." You murmured into the crook of your arm, not really paying attention as you sat curled up on the bed.
Both Marko and Paul glanced at each other at your dull response, Paul's expression contorting to one of worry. He wasn't the best at comforting you, especially since he had wanted his turning, and although the thought of someone else harming you made his blood boil; in secret, a deeply-hidden part of him was glad. Now you were like them and could live together for the rest of your immortal lives. The two glanced at each other before nodding, bouncing off the cave and hiding behind the sheer curtains.
You hadn't even noticed them leaving, or at least you didn't acknowledge it. But the sound of subtle little squeaks had you lifting your head, letting out a small gasp of your own as you were bombarded by two blonde bats. One had fluffy blonde hair, while the other's fur appeared more curly, no doubt being reminiscent of the two blonde bikers. "Paul—Marko?" You called out, getting little chirps back in return. Paul flew around you a couple of times before landing on your head, making a mess of your hair. Marko didn't sit still, flying around you, giving you a slight nip here and there to keep you on edge as you laughed.
"I didn't know you could turn into bats!" You laughed, for a moment finding paece in the distraction the two provided. The sound of your small laughter provided the cave with an unseeable light, but all of them could feel it. Paul and Marko flopped back into their human form, grabbing your arm and hoisting you off of the bed. "Come on, darlin', you can do it too!" Paul cheered, Marko, nodding eagerly as the two distracted you.
Dwayne put the bag of clothes he had gotten for you in his hand down, letting his feet drop to the floor with David's. He let out a sigh, getting up and walking over to the two terror twins. "So she can fall onto the cave floor?" He asked, his disapproval clear in his authoritative tone.
"Lighten up, Dwayne! So you fall a little; what's so wrong with that? It's all part of the fun." Marko argued, mentally challenging Dwayne. Everyone knew their intention was to distract you, and although Dwayne couldn't stand the sight of you sulking, he wouldn't put you in danger, either. He prefers you brooding then having to you see your body black and blue from screaming bruises.
"You call falling on your ass fun?" Micheal chummed in, letting his body rest against the headboard of the bed, dramatically rubbing his butt to lighten the mood.
"Not everyone is as bad as you are when it comes to flying, Mikey," Paul argued, rolling his eyes.
"She shouldn't transform until she's had a proper meal." The authoritative voice of David chimes in, effectively ruining your mood. You wanted to stand up and argue with the blonde, to stomp your foot into the ground and demand he stops commanding you. But you were out of your element here; even if you wanted to be stubborn, you're just hurting yourself. "I am not killing anyone, David."
You watched his cold eyes narrow at you, wanting to watch you waiver, but seeing the resilient look on your face made him sigh. He pulled out a cigarette in a desperate attempt to calm his nerves. His little mate was denying themselves proper health, and although he might act uncaring, it was worrying him sick. The boys had agreed to give you some time to adjust, but as the coven leader, it was his job to assure the health and safety of all his members. Especially you.
"Don't worry about it; you can still drink from us whenever you feel hungry." Micheal hummed, his tone gentle and reassuring as he rested his hand on your shoulder. Gently rubbing the tense muscle as you settled back into your seat. You nodded, cringing subtly at the idea before deciding to drop it.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" Paul's sultry voice echoed in your ear, making your hands twitch with an unfamiliar itch. Excitement spreads through you, filling you with a sense of adrenaline. You slowly realized what position you were actually in, Paul lying underneath you, your hips straddling his as he rested his hand on your thigh. In your roughness, his jacket seemed to half slide down his shoulders, now resting against the crevice of his elbows. His mesh-like top left little to the imagination, his pale chest on display for your hungry eyes. He looked delicious.
As if Paul could tell he was losing your attention, he rutted his hips against your aching nerves. Letting out a shaky sigh, his signature crooked grin spreading across his features as he watched you suck in a breath. "Eyes on me baby, just feel with me, yeah?" Despite neither of you needing air, he sounded practically breathless; but you also felt breathless. Your post-drinking haze left your body so sensitive, every little spark of friction igniting a new addiction deep within you. You two felt like pure sin.
You have been in the cave for about two weeks now. Letting yourself feed regularly off of the vampires you were staying with, none of you liked to address the elephant in the room that was your turning. The mate bond between you all had strengthened, leading you all to be closer than before throughout this time. Even David acted softer around you. But something you weren't prepared for was the many feelings associated with feeding, more specifically the lust.
In all your rampant thoughts, you failed to see Marko pull the sheer curtain back, his eyes lighting mischievously at the display. He tugged off his boots, slowly sneaking over to you; your back still turned to him. He watched silently before slowly pushing himself against you. His chest against your back, the smell of the forest and fresh blood sticking to his skin. You moaned at the smell, letting the back of your head rest against his shoulder. As if sensing your uncertainty about actually indulging yourself, Marko slowly let his delicate hands trail towards your hips. Slowly, he guided yours to grind against Paul's aching bulge.
You let out a shaky breath, one that came out shaky and chopped as you let your body tingle at the feeling. Although it felt good at that very moment, it only fueled your need. Your hand gripped Markos, a weak attempt at stopping him from tempting you.
"Ah ah, let me darlin'." He mused, his tone so coy you could practically hear his smugness. He continued rocking your hips, one of the hands holding your hips gradually moving upwards sensually before ending at your chin. Cupping the skin in a firm grip, he slowly removed your head hiding in the crook of his neck and titled it towards the debauched sight of a panting Paul. His bottom lip was caught in between his lips, and one of his eyes squeezed shut as his chest heaved up and down in a complete state of breathlessness.
"Look at him, all messy for you." He pointed out, moving your hips to push particularly roughly against Paul, making both of you moan at the friction. Unlike Dwayne and Michael, Marko and Paul didn't want to comfort you in the sense that this situation was terrible, but instead accept what you now were. How good it could feel, what it was like to have the freedom to explore every ounce of your most concealed secrets.
"Lesson one of being a vampire," Marko mused, removing his hold on you. The two changed positions with you. Paul now leaning his back against the headboard, legs spread with you in between them, your back pressed against his chest. His hand trailed around your waist, teasing your shirt before slipping underneath. His fingers now torment your searing skin, which in reality was just as freezing as the two blondes was. Marko nudged your legs open, laying on his front so his head rested conveniently between your thighs. He guided them open, caressing your skin soothingly.
"Feeding is often accompanied by an insatiable–" Marko purred, kissing up the length of your thigh. "And nearly irresistible," He continued but was cut off by Paul, who had begun massaging your sides; "hunger," Paul finished.
"So why don't you lean back and let us care for ya'?" Paul mused, practically whispering the phrase into your ear. In a similar fashion, you would've imagined the snake talking Eve into biting into the apple, Paul and Marko were the current embodiment of Lucifer for you, and this time you weren't in the mood to repent. No, you'd welcome the flames of hell eagerly, the masochist inside you hoping to feel the sting of its flames. With a nod of your head, a messy high clouding you with need, you officially sold your soul to the two devils holding you.
Marko grinned, his lips trailing kisses up your thigh, inching closer to where you needed him to be. They were teasing you, your needy eyes watching Marko kiss over your most needy spot, his teeth nipping the top of your pants, one of his fangs sticking out from the fabric. He looked up, his darkened gaze connected with yours as he patiently pulled your undergarments down.
As if in a desperate attempt not to lose your attention, Paul nipped at your neck. The sudden action sends a small jolt of electricity through you, pulling a soft mewl from you. Marko cooed at the noise while Paul chuckled, both clearly amused by your current state. They knew how hormonal fledglings could be, like animals in heat; Micheal was no different.
They had helped him out too, and they were most eager to provide their services now as well.
No matter how hard they tried, how often they showed you the normality in their ways. You couldn't wrap your head around it, that nagging resistance keeping you awake. You couldn't enter this life without committing yourself to a final attempt at regaining your old one. So, when the others went out to eat after feeding you. You left, setting out for your last, and final attempt at regaining your old humanity.
The leaves rustled with a strange ferocity as you pushed your way through the untraveled path. You didn't want to accept what you were; there needed to be an alternative. You didn't want to admit it, so when the daunting forest around your figure cleared, you saw the back of the church. You wanted to believe in that hope, that perhaps all these values preached and thrown down your throat had a purpose.
The forest was at the back of the church, revealing a small garden enclosed by a white picket fence. You hopped it, letting your bloody hands stain the purity of its color permanently. You rushed towards the back door, balling your first and desperately pounding in the creaky wooden door. You quickly shifted your focus, trying to open the door and jiggling the handle. "Please! Someone—anyone, please!"
Not hearing an answer, you stumbled back. Your tears make you choke on your own sorrow, rushing around toward the front of the building. "Please, Father! Anyone, please!" You begged, continuing to slam your hand against the door. It wasn't until it opened that you stood stunned, chest heaving, hands stained, and body soaked. You wailed in front of this man's sanctuary. Begging entry.
The man appeared elderly, with white and gray hair dominating the little hair he still had left on his head. His black cassock made his position as a priest clear, but you didn't dare move. You felt the need to be invited in.
"Goodness! Child, come, come inside." He ushered you into the old building; there were candles lighting the area, casting everything in a warm glow. You stepped inside, unable to stop your shaking, until the man covered you in a blanket. He was probably trying to provide your frigid body with warmth. "What happened to you?"
"Father, please, you need to help me. I need help—please, I need aid." You stammered, letting him guide you into a back room away from the main hall. He listened to you, his brows and face contorted in worry. "Calm down; you are safe now."
The room seemed less decorated but more elaborate than you would've thought it would be in the church, but you didn't say much as you sat down in the empty chair across the old desk. This must've been some sort of office. The priest stared for a moment, his gaze lingering on your stained hands before shuffling around the desk. His shoes thumped across the red carpet covering half of the dark oak floors. He sat down, letting his hands intertwine, and he rested them folded on the edge of the desk. "So, my child, what brings you here? What has brought you to my doors in such distress?"
You needed a moment to collect yourself for that question. What hadn't happened to you in the last week? Every horror imaginable seemed to be flowing through your life at the moment. A part of you wanted to lie, but you knew that hiding the true nature of your case would prevent you from getting any practical help. This was necessary. Clearing your throat, you slowly gather your perseverance to continue.
"Father, you must believe what I have to say. I am new to Santa Carla, but in my stay, I've encountered death and despair more than in any other place." You started, your voice shook and a clear representation of what you were feeling, utterly distraught. The man nodded, seemingly focused on you as he urged you to continue. "But what I originally thought were simple gangsters, feuds, and typical street violence became much darker. Vampires, Father, Vampires reside in this town, and I've found myself to be one of them."
You were desperate; frantic eyes watched the man inhale and lean back in his chair. He thought deeply, or at least the look of concentration was deeply etched into the creases of his face. He sighed, uncrossing his hand and gently reaching out to rest a comforting hand on top of yours.
"My child, I've read the bible well. The true structure of this world and how it came to be, the only time vampires were ever named—or mentioned. Alukah only ever being mentioned in Sefer Chasidim, where the creature is understood to be a living human being but can shape-change into a wolf. Alukah can also roughly be translated to "blood-lusting monster" or, in your case, a vampire."
He had a calm tone, deep and raspy, but it seemed to have an oddly chiding tone. He moved away, leaning fully back now against his chair as he chuckled. "But my dear, I assure you that these are old tales; such demons do not exist among us anymore."
His words were like a splash of cold water to the face, a deep, unsettling reality overcoming you. You sounded crazy; of course, no one would believe you. "But Father!" He held his hand up to silence you, shaking his head in a disapproving manner. "You can lie to me, but you cannot fool the Lord."
Anger seemed to replace your sorrow, standing up abruptly, the stool you were previously resting in falling to the floor with a loud clunk. "I am not lying!" You screeched, your face unknowingly morphing into one similar to the boys. Angled features, sharp bones, and burning yellow eyes. The man stumbled back, stammering as he took in the demonic sight that was you. His hand unknowingly grabbed onto his cross, moving out of his chair.
"I need your help Father; I have not consumed human blood yet! There needs to be a way to fix this!" Once again, you were pleading. A part of you was growing sick of it; how could a man detest your current nature but refuse to help you revert back to your "purer" self at the same time? It was hypocritical.
The hand holding the pectoral cross shook with a small tremor, breath equally as rough when it escaped his shaken form. His free hand covered his mouth, either trying to hide his labored breathing or trying to regain composure. You weren't quite sure. The silence in the room now was unsettling, threatening even—leaving you on edge. Finally, the old man's hoarse voice cut through the air as he removed the pale hand from his mouth. He waved it toward him as he walked over before passing you and opening the door. Standing beside the frame as he beckoned you to follow.
"Come come, my child. We must act quickly; you have the devil inside you. With every moment we waste, it'll grow stronger." You nodded, cringing at his choice of words before slowly following him. You would've argued at the choice of words but didn't seem to have the energy to do so. You followed as he led you through the church, leading you towards the back door you had previously banged on. He opened it, leading you towards the backyard. To the left, there was a small gravely path that shortly led to a wooden shed. Wood rot was apparent when you looked at the dying boards that made up the shed's walls.
He unlocked the shed with his key; the loud cling of chains dropping was quickly followed by the squeak of old hinges being forced to move again as he opened the door. It was an average shed if it didn't have a hidden doorway behind a shabby bookshelf. The old man pushed the shelf to the left, revealing a mossy, dirty stairway further down in what you assume to be a basement.
As if the priest could see your confusion, he began to say, "This church used to perform a multitude of exorcisms. We used to do it in the old church, but people began associating it too much with demons, so we renovated the old shack basement to do the job. That was a while ago," He mumbled, walking down the steps and revealing an equally run-down setup. There was a bed, shabby with a mattress stained with yellow and brown. The bed frame seemed to be made of rusted metal, not undoubtedly a cheap purchase at the time. Restrains we're hanging from each end of the bed.
Every fiber of your being was begging you not to lay on that mattress, but your own desperation convinced you. It convinced you to lie down and let that man tie you up; it made you trust him to cure you.
"So what will you do?"
"What I need too."
His gruff voice echoed through the room; he had tied something loosely around your eyes. Explaining that it was all part of the process. You heard him open on an old shelf, the sound of clinking wood making you uneasy. Your instincts screamed at you, but you weren't sure for what. You didn't understand yourself anymore, and the frustration coursing through you nearly brought you to tears. You just wanted all of this to be over, to understand yourself once again.
"And what would that be?" You edged further, feeling like something was wrong.
"What I was born to do."
His voice grew darker, lowering an octave or two, making you shift. The blindfold slid at your defiance, sliding off of one of your eyes. Snapping them open, you took in a sight you'd surely never forget. There, a man swore to do no harm and held a wooden spike in his shaky hand. The other clutching his cross to his heart while whispering mantras. He didn't even hesitate as he saw your yellow eyes open before he slashed forward, putting his full force into the throw of the stake.
Perhaps it was instinct, or perhaps it was simply foolish for the man to believe leather binds would chain you. But in a moment of adrenaline, you pushed your body away from the mattress, your wrists and ankles suffering a burn from the sudden action as you snapped yourself away from your murder. Watching the way his sheer force stabbed the stake through the mattress, your eyes lingering on sight.
That blow was meant to kill you.
"You fucking bastard!" You growled, a distorted tone to your voice as you took a step towards him. But with your lack of control, your hand was around the man's throat with his old back smashed against one of the walls.
"I trusted you! What kind of priest are you? You are meant to aid, protect, and serve. I am still one of God's creations! You taint your very purpose in this life with your actions!" The hand around his neck tightened, your claws unwilling to draw blood. Your eyes zeroed in on the sinful liquid, the smell so much more intense than of any of the boys.
The boys.
David was right; they were right. There was no turning back for you.
"You will never—be one of God's—creations."
Those were his last words before you ripped his throat out with your teeth. Dismembering the man's jugular, drinking away the last of your crumbling humanity. There was an irony in it that the remains of your dying humanity weren't taken from the vampires you now lived with but by a human themselves.
The man fell to the floor, eyes a haunting color. They were cloudy; you couldn't describe the sight of his pale skin mimicking the shade of yours.
You wailed, grieving everything you were as you sat hunched on the floor. Covered in the blood of the man who tried, and in some way—killed you.
You weren't sure how long you sat there, frozen, until the boys came. A hand gently shaking your shoulder, making you jump, meeting the eyes of a saddened Paul. "Oh, darlin'.." He whispered, watching you stammer, desperate to explain. But he simply picked you up, bridal-style, and led you out where the rest of the boys stood.
Marko walked over, letting Paul set you on the ground before the curly-haired vampire pulled you into a tight hug. A hug which all of the boys joined, their hearts breaking at the sound of your sobs. "It's okay, it'll be okay," Marko whispered, holding you close.
"Come on, let's take you home." David sighed after a moment. His voice drowned out in the hauntingly silent night.
That evening was the second and final marking of your death. The first takes place in an alleyway by a vampire, and the job is finished by a human. You struggled after that night; you barely ate or talked. You felt awful, your thoughts not abandoning you or your guilt. You were a murderer.
That all had taken place a few days ago, your body now sat on the roof along the boardwalk. It was a motel, two stories high, so you found a semblance of privacy on top of the concrete roof. You sat on the thick stone wall of a fence, letting your legs dangle over the edge.
"I'll never forget the day I made my first victim." Micheals voice cut through the distant booming of chatter and joy taking place below you by the adolescent and naive party-goers on the boardwalk.
"It was April 6th, at about 12:06. I lost my life forever." He went on, walking closer towards you. Stopping beside you and leaning on the fence with his forearms. His gaze lingered on the glowing boardwalk, casting everything surrounding it in a golden orange.
"So we're all murderers.." You murmured, eyes not meeting him, but you knew he was now looking at you. Your tone was cold and distant.
"He was a child molester." Micheal spat, standing up and gently moving you so you looked at him. "We don't have to be monsters, Y/N; we don't have to kill the good. I chose to take the evil from this world, and you can too."
You nodded weakly, not in the mood to argue. You let a frail smile tug on your lips, nodding to his words as you let him wrap an arm around your shoulder and squeeze you close before slowly leaving. Giving you space. Once again, you were surrounded by silence. Nothing but the blurred screams from ride-goers, drunks laughing and prancing around on the ground beneath you.
"He's wrong." That crystal clear voice, his tone stern and unwavering even if David tried to sound gentle. But his words felt icy like a cold bucket of water was poured over you. Sinking into the skin, leaving goosebumps to ravage your already frigid body. When Micheals words provided comfort, as if holding your wounded heart in his hands, David seemed to drop it instead.
"What?"
He walked over, the sound of his boots tapping against the concrete. You didn't necessarily look at him, but you noticed he settled beside you. His body bent forward, forearms resting against the wall-like railing on the rooftop. You both stood there in silence, watching the stars glitter across the ocean's surface. The silent, cruel breeze drifts through your hair and body. Seagulls cried, and boardwalk goers partied, but you felt so far away from it all. It made you question the finality of your death and where it had really occurred. Did you die in that alleyway or when you let go of your remaining humanity? You were sure a part of you must die in order to take a life; death is inevitable for either party. There is no such thing as only one dying; the other might live but never completely. Your humanity had died along with that priest.
"You are a monster." David's voice was stern, clear, and factual. Your gaze turned to him finally, seeing the way he stared so longingly out at the sea before turning to you.
"What the fuck David?" You snapped, feeling like this was not the time for him to throw his own values onto you. You had killed someone, taken a life, and instead of trying to bring you any consultation, he insulted you?
"Don't you think I feel shitty enough? Fuck this, I know, okay? I know you don't need to stand here and rub it in my face!" Why had you expected anything else from the blonde, you couldn't lie to David, and he had neither lied to you. He was, on many occasions, the truth.
"You are a monster, Y/N. You will never die; you will never age." He hummed, ignoring your outburst as he took out a cigarette and lit it. He held it up to his lips, taking a long drag, dropping his hand against the railing before blowing out the smoke. "But you must feed." There was a finality in his town that made you suffer as if you were the only one who noticed the morbid aberration of your circumstances. But how were you supposed to explain your regret about eating a sheep to a hungry pack of wolves?
"What if I don't want to?" You asked, voice hoarse from the raw emotions you felt. You wanted to smack him, berate him to find another time to torment you.
"You'll kill someone you actually like." He whispered an answer that took you off guard. Eyes trailing back to him, you noticed that haze. A similar one to what Michael used to wear whenever he encountered an old memory. Yes, David seemed to be dancing in his past.
"But make no mistake, Y/N. You are a monster. A filthy abomination that feeds off the weak, the defenseless." He focused his cold gaze on you, "You will fall apart the day you realize just how much you enjoy it. The screams, the suffering, the pain. It will be the only consistent factor in your life. And when you look around and see the constant deterioration of mankind. You will turn and see us." He took another drag of his cigarette before dropping it, suffocating its flame with his boot. "We are monsters too, Y/N."
"I will never let you forget it. I will tell you every day before you rest and when you awake." There was an odd gentleness to his tone, one that made you look up at him once more. Although you could hardly bear to keep eye contact with the man.
"Why?" You had a thousand questions running wild throughout your head, an intimidating rampage and riot pushing through, begging millions of questions to be answered. They stuck in your throat like a lump, a noose around your vocals, keeping you silent. Finally, you managed to settle on that one word. Why?
"Do you think a lion thinks of itself as a monster when it eats a gazelle?"
"We aren't animals, David–"
"But aren't we? We're all just mammals trying to get by. A lion doesn't feel guilty for killing because that's what a lion simply does. They need to in order to survive." His eyes seemed to burn into you, a desperate sense of vulnerability taking hold of his features. It seemed David wanted to spare you from your own feelings, to clear the path you were going on, no doubt one he had walked before.
"But what if we asked the gazelle what they thought of the lion. When a meal would mean losing a brother or sister, mother or father, the gazelle would see the lion as a monster too."
A heavy wind blew through your hair, reminding you of the night air. Whispering about the daytime and how you would never be able to see it again. Feel its warmth kiss your skin, see its joyful birth across the horizon. The wind mocked you, and the night sky never felt so empty before.
"So?" You asked, wanting a conclusion to this lesson. A small chuckle parted from David, the blonde finding your impatience amusing.
"The term monster is subjectable. It depends on who you ask, rosebud. To them," He gestured to the late-night party-goers. "You will always and forever be a monster." But before you could frown, even dare settle on that phrase for too long. He turned to you, taking your hand and squeezing it. As if you'd let go, leaving him alone. "But to us, you are everything."
"I'll call you a monster until the word doesn't sting anymore."
He whispered, cupping your cheek. You noted the lack of his gloves, for the first time touching his bare skin. He leaned closer, kissing the top of your forehead lovingly. It was an embrace in some way, a sweet and gentle promise. That no matter what you become, he'd love you.
"We'll be down at the boardwalk if you want to join us; you can't stay sulking forever, rosebud.." He whispered, leaving you alone to think once more.
When you did make your way down the sandy docks, feeling grain against your shoe as you walked with a sunken head. You wondered how your life had changed so drastically since you came to Santa Carla, whether everything was for better or worse.
"Hey, Darlin!"
The booming voice of a happy Paul called to you, making you look up. Before you stood your gang of boys leaning against the wooden railing of the boardwalk pier. Their bikes were parked beside them, all smiling as they looked at you. There was fondness in their eyes you could describe, but as you walked over and were encircled by your boys. All equally ecstatic to see you—you felt less alone. Welcomed even. You still had a long way to go, but for once in a long while, did you feel alright. Perhaps, becoming a vampire wasn't the worst thing that's ever happened to you.
Synopsis: You still ponder what really killed you, the day you died or the day you lost your humanity. When the dawn becomes something you'll never see again, will you ever be able to accept your new nature?
Summary: Micheals Ex-Girlfriend received a concerning phone call from Lucy begging her to come and check up on a now distant and unrecognizable Micheal. But what was meant to be a simple reunion and check-in, instead leads to four very rambunctious bikers and an old lover, to be extremely opposed to letting you leave again.
Warning: Animal mutilation, blood, blood drinking, minor injuries, hurt/comfort, some angst, grinding, murder, corrupted representation of Christianity
Part One
Word Count: 10k
There will be no explicit or detailed smut because I wanted to keep this fic gender neutral! I'm sorry to anyone who expected some spicer scenes with our boys!
Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me and motivate me to keep writing! Please keep leaving them since I love to read them! This will be the final chapter in the"Last Night" series since I'm dying to write about something new. Let me know what you thought of this!
If you needed to explain how you were feeling, the best way to describe it would be in a state of constant panic. Your mind was throbbing, eyes catching onto everything, yet nothing simultaneously. You had become all too aware of the rising sun, the bright light blinding you. Planting a powerful migraine against your head. You couldn't breathe, you couldn't feel but felt everything at the same time. Heard nothing but could make sense of the squirrels hopping from branch to branch. You cried, utterly unaware of where you were. In that moment of panic, when that monster finally let you go. You didn't look back; you didn't stop until you felt like you had put enough distance between you and Santa Carla.
You sat somewhere in the forest, crawled against a tree as if the wide bark would somehow hide you as you wheezed for air. The moist soil underneath you tainted your pants, leaving you looking exactly how you felt. Some of your blood had soaked up into the top of your shirt, while the rest grew dry and uncomfortable against your skin.
Your body ached. Your teeth burned, and so did your hands. Glancing down, you nearly threw yourself back into despair at the sight of your sharp, nail-like claws. What happened to you? And most importantly, what were you now?
You couldn't help but wail, your knees pressed tightly against your chest as you wrapped your arms around yourself. As if you could protect yourself from whatever was happening, even though you knew how nonsensical that hope was. It still provided some comfort for you.
You had stayed in the position for hours, and although your sobbing was long replaced with tiredness, you tried staying awake. But something about the sun forced your eyes closed, and when you opened them once more, the sun was setting, and your throat burned. You groaned, sitting up from your lying position. You didn't know what to do; you couldn't return to Lucy's, especially if she had something to do with this. The thought made your stomach tie itself in knots, a sinking feeling nearly pressing you against the ground. How have you gotten yourself into this position?
How could anyone do this to you? Your fists balled at the thought, your sharp nails slicing into your palm. You slowly got up, stumbling around for a little. You could hear so much, could see more precisely than ever before. It gave you a massive headache; some part of you just wanted to curl up against the tree stump and wake up from this nightmare. But you couldn't, no matter how much that thought broke you. This was real; whatever was happening was real.
You stumbled aimlessly through the woods, trying to figure things out away from the rest of society. A part of you felt safe, knowing that he couldn't find you in the middle of nowhere. The sharp sound of a twig snapping pulled you out of your thoughts, predatory eyes instantly zeroing in on the location the sound originated from. The sound came from a bush, the leaves rustling as something clearly nudged and navigated through the shrubbery. You stood still, not trusting yourself. A peculiar itch, almost like a nervous tick, urged you towards the noise. Your hands craved for something, your teeth ached, and your throat felt dry. Your body screamed for something you didn't understand or refused to recognize.
Your breath caught in your throat as a small, brown bunny peeked out from the bushes. Its small button nose twitched as it sniffed and analyzed its surroundings. It's cheeks made the whiskers flick, small paws tapping the ground several times before dedicating the mossy floor save enough to hop on. You froze, that nagging urge growing into a raging protest. Before you could even hesitate to question the simple thought, you pounced. The small, high-pitched screech of the bunny brought tears to your eyes as you gripped it. Getting the small fluffy body to your mouth and biting into it. The tiny creature uttered another small cry before going silent, its previously kicking paws and legs halting before slowly sinking and stilling completely. But you didn't care; you couldn't, not when that god-awful nectar was pouring down your throat. Calming the fire, quenching your pain, all through the price of another.
You were messy, and the grip of your jaw was so fierce that you could hear several crunching of bones under your grip. You gulped up whatever you could, blood dripping out the corners of your mouth, trailing down your neck, and staining your shirt collar. You sucked until nothing came out of the poor bunny anymore, letting go and looking down at the life you just stole. Realization dawns on you like boulders, dropping the poor lifeless body and beginning to weep. You killed something; you killed that bunny. You felt hysterical, hands twisting themselves in your hair as you hyperventilated. The word monster takes the form of a mantra, marching to the beat of your racing heartbeat.
The burning in your throat died down but was quickly replaced by the aching of your heart. Mourning what you had done it took you nearly an hour to calm down. You had tried wiping and scrubbing off the blood on your body, most likely smudging and making your appearance much worse, but at the moment, all you wanted was that crimson color off of you. It stained, and you weren't sure if you could ever indeed wash it off. It didn't stain your skin, but your soul would bear this mark for eternity.
You gently shifted the bunny, starting to dig a small hole beside the bushes it hopped out from. Your appearance couldn't get any worse now, blood and dirt-stained clothes. Grimy hands, the dark soil stuck underneath your fingernails. When considering the hole deep enough to prevent any predator from digging up the carcass, gently lower the bunny, covering it with dirt and patting the ground flat afterward. You sat before the makeshift grave, not knowing what to think or feel. There was too much, and as you sat rooted to the ground, you tried figuring out what to do next. A small thought came to you: if anyone could help you now, at least give you refuge, it would be the church. Wasn't that their whole shtick? Providing aid and guidance in moments of doubt, because if that was the case, you'd be a perfect candidate for practicing their moral codes.
But you had spent nearly the entire day wallowing and mourning your old life, who you were, and fearing what the setting sun made you. No, showing up the way you were now, covered in blood, was a sure way to send a raging mob after you holding pitchforks and blazing torches. You needed to find shelter, hide out the night, and adequately recuperate. But you had no money, and you'd rather die than return to Lucy's home.
Was that why she had actually brought you here? The thought made your skin colder than it was, but an even worse thought crossed your mind. Twisting your heart in a brutal, vice-like grip. Did Michael know?
Time seemed to tick past you at that moment, the singing breeze creating a symphony of rustling bushes and leaves. It all moved through you, past you, like you weren't really there. You didn't want to breathe, think, or even consider that thought a possibility. Micheal had always been a lousy liar. Currently, that was the only knowledge you had to ground yourself. You tried to control your breathing, but with your rampaging thoughts and the subtle taste of copper in your mouth, you just couldn't. It wasn't that easy, and looking ahead simply felt too overwhelming for you. So, you took things step-by-step, figuring the first thing you could do was get out of this damned forest.
So, you began walking straight ahead following the setting sun. The orange hue occasionally broke through the thick foliage of branches and leaves. Cascading delicate beams of light onto the mossy floor, the beauty of the sight calmed you. It felt separate from the rest of the world, like a slight pause for you to soak up before returning to the never-resting society you belonged—or instead, used to belong to.
You couldn't tell how long you walked or where you were, but you knew you had finally made it when you saw the flash of car lights. The sun had finally died for the day, lessening your headache considerably. You finally made it to a gravel-like road, not having any official pavement but clearly hardened from car tires throughout the years. You watched as the car drove on, hoping to follow it to a more populated area. You let the path guide you. You had to be careful; the course contained so many depressions and holes in the ground you didn't want to accidentally twist your ankle. With your current streak of bad luck, you wouldn't put something so ridiculous above you. The longer you walked, the more you couldn't help but wonder how anyone could travel down this path in a car without getting incredibly motion sick.
However, when you finally saw a house in the upcoming clearing, you weren't greeted by the gradual introduction of neighborhood streets but instead a large farm. Fields and crops litter the area to your left, while pens are to your right. No doubt about yielding livestock. The area practically reeked of cows in the most unpleasant way imaginable. But you found yourself relieved; a farm like this wouldn't have the toughest surveillance to beat, if any, and you felt safer knowing that. You snuck around, keeping yourself hidden as you watched the farmer exit his truck and enter his home.
You could see so much clearer if the sun had never really set. You glanced around before you found a wooden barn on the south side of the field, rushing your way over and trying to pry the rusted doors open. It didn't work, at least it wouldn't if you didn't want to rip the door off its hinges. You walked around, seeing a broken window. Small, sharp jagged pieces of glass still stuck out here and there, but you managed to lift yourself through it. Not without a complimentary scratch, a low hiss escaped you as you glanced at your cut arm. Your eyes watched as your blood cried from the cut, and a sick part of you was tempted to lick it clean.
The barn was clearly too old to still be in use; the only company you had was heaps of hay, creaking wood, and a roof that threatened to collapse onto you any minute. The barn had two stories, although the second story only covered one-half of the first floor, a long unstable ladder leading towards it. You had come so far, and the thought of being above viewpoint was somewhat comforting. So, you carefully climbed up the ladder. Letting out a sigh of relief when you made it, throwing yourself onto a lump of hay in the far corner. You felt hidden, away from anything or anyone.
"They ought' to be here!" Paul exclaimed, clearly exasperated and exhausted from this situation. They had been looking for you all night, neither of them being able to get an ounce of rest knowing you, their mate, had gone missing in Santa Carla of all places. They had traced your steps the next evening when you failed to show up, following your faint scent into a shady alleyway. To say Marko nearly hyperventilated at the smell and sight of your dried blood was an understatement. They were all beyond worried, sick to the bone. Their only consolation is that you were alive; they would've felt it had your bond died. No, you were still alive, and they couldn't rest until they found you.
"I smell it too; it's faint. They must've been here; their blood must've dried a while ago." Dwayne hadn't spoken a word since you went missing, only ever speaking up when he needed to. He had to remain calm; in a situation like this, David and the others needed a rock to ground themselves on, and despite the emotional anguish he felt, clawing at his heart to cry out for you senselessly, he remained stoic.
"Search the area. I don't care if you have to stick your nose in the filthy soil; find where the scent leads." David growled; he felt the worst out of everyone; he felt a horrible, cumbersome chain tying itself around his throat. Guilt. He was the coven leader; his job was to ensure his mates were safe. He was immortal, a god-damned creature of hell, but what was the point of being invincible if he couldn't even protect the people who mattered? He shouldn't have let you go that night; he shouldn't have listened to the others. It was in his instinct to take you with him, to keep you in his sight, safe.
None of them really conversed much since you disappeared, sure they were all mates, but your absence left them incomplete. If the conversation wasn't about finding you, they didn't have it.
Micheal was fairing the worst, an undeniable feeling of guilt similar to David's settling on his body. Sure, David was supposed to protect everyone. But ultimately, he was the reason you came to Santa Carla in the first place. Maybe if he had hidden it better, his adjustment to his new life, his mother would've never sent you here to hell city of all places.
Marko couldn't stay still; he had even tried some of Paul's more vigorous weeds to keep him calm. But he couldn't, rushing from place to place like a frightened cat. Some might mistake this as hyperness, but the boys knew the real reason. Pure, unfiltered anxiety. Like a bunny hopping from place to place, a weasel who can't stay still, Marko found you first. Sleeping in a curled, protective form, body covered in several pieces of hay. But the sight of dried blood over you, not hearing your heartbeat, his world crashed down onto him.
“Y/N?” His voice was croaked, raw from emotion. The simple word, breathless as it was, caught the attention of everyone.
Marko kneeled, letting his hand ghost your shoulder and arm before shaking you. Seeing your eyes open, as tired and irritated as they were, brought such relief to him that he could cry. However, Paul was a step ahead of him, being the first to join Marko in fussing over you.
David, Dwayne, and Micheal followed soon after. Dwayne wasted no time helping you sit up, carefully inspecting your body until letting his eyes land on the cut on your arms, studying it carefully before grabbing the cloth tied around his waist and making a makeshift bandage to prevent dirt from coming into your wounds.
"What happened to you?" Micheal finally piped up, grabbing your hands and inspecting the dried blood. He only let out his own breath when he realized it wasn't your blood. He pulled you into a tight hug, his hold tight and unrelinquishing as he nuzzled his head into the top of your hair.
"Stop hogging her!" Paul complained, shoving Micheal off. It wasn't anything too forceful, more like a nudge. When Micheal pulled away to fight with Paul, Marko swooped in and pulled you into his arms. Taking on a similar position to Micheals. "You made us worried." He murmured into your neck, giving you another squeeze to reassure yourself you were there. Safe in his arms again.
All the boys had been so ecstatic to see you; even David's shoulders dropped as he sighed of pure relief. But he was more analytical than the others; he recognized the lack of your heartbeat. The way blood seemed to cling onto you, he could sense it. Somehow, you had become a vampire. The thought made him cold, even more, frigid than he already was. No, his anger was blazing, but it did not radiate a scalding heat but the opposite. His fury was glacial.
"Wait outside for us." His authoritative voice commanded, sending silence across the shabby barn. They all send pleading looks toward you before slowly leaving. Dwayne grabbed David's shoulder, reminding him to be gentle with whatever the bleach blonde had planned. When the boys had finally left, you felt your ability to breathe return. You had been so overwhelmed, thousands of thoughts and questions running through you. Why weren't they afraid? You were a bloody mess! You could understand Micheal looking for you, but the others as well?
Your small moment of relief was quickly replaced with dread as you realized you were alone in a room with a man you couldn't bring yourself to lie to. It was silent, the sound of singing crickets seemingly decorating the night air. It would be relaxing if you didn't hate the oppression its silence came with. Slowly getting up, you winced at the reopening of your cut.
David slowly walked over, carefully reaching out and cupping your cheeks. He stayed like that momentarily, simply soaking in the sight of you before him. Eventually, his hand traveled lower before pushing down the collar of your shirt, revealing the two puncture wounds that changed your life forever. His eyes flashed yellow, a low, animalistic sound escaping him.
"Who?"
"What?" You snapped yourself out of your lost haze, finally meeting David's cold stare. It wasn't directed at you, but you, unfortunately, didn't know that.
"Who did this to you?"
The question seemingly transported you. Back into the body of a helpless individual, losing their lives in a dingy alleyway. The fear, the panic, it made you crumble. Your knees went weak as you wobbled back onto the floor. "I—" you struggled, trying to put on a brave face in front of such stern eyes. "I—I didn't know them."
That answer provided a scowl to erupt across David's features, a feeling of uselessness washing over him. How was he supposed to avenge you if you couldn't give him anything to work off of? He sighed, his mind wanting to push further, but a simple glance at your quivering form prevented him from doing so. "Come on, rosebud, let's get you somewhere safe." He eventually settled on that, watching you stumble before picking you up. If he hadn't pushed you enough tonight, he lifted off the ground to reach the bottom, and promptly, the outside of the barn sent your mind reeling.
You wanted to run, but the feeling of being in someone's arms. Someone you knew, someone who felt oddly safe to you had you staying. The boys glanced at you two, Dwayne coming over and taking you from David's arms. He saw your weak and drowsy state, his heart clenching at the sight. "She hasn't had enough blood." He started calmly, watching you soullessly rest your head against his chest. "We'll give her some in the cave, then she'll be able to recover someplace safe." Dwayne nodded at David's statement, readjusting you in his arms. The movement prompted you to open your eyes, the smell of his leather jacket oddly settling to you. "Get some rest Y/N; we'll take care of you now. You'll feel better soon," you nodded slowly. Closing your eyes and resigning yourself to whatever the future holds for you now. It couldn't get any worse anyways.
"Are they still sleeping?"
An exasperated sigh echoed throughout the cave, Dwayne rolling his eyes before rubbing his temples. "You asked five minutes ago; yes, they're still sleeping!"
A loud hush followed from David and Micheal, both scolding the two for talking so loudly. Everyone was on edge; you had slept for nearly two days now. And although odd sleeping patterns weren't rare for fledglings, you were a neglected fledgling, which provided them all with many concerns and worries. The birth of a new vampire was often labeled as a fledgling, as in the eyes of vampires, you, and your very unique nature, was akin to that of a baby. Similarly to neglecting babies upon birth, they weren't sure what consequences you'd suffer from upon waking.
"David, we need to wake them. They need to feed." Micheal chimed in, his need to coddle you almost overbearing. Although the boys had given him a fair share of tough love, they made sure his fledgling stage was a healthy one. He was more moody than ever, but changes like those were common for at least a year after turning. Although David acted the coldest, he had been the most persistent that Micheal was feeding enough and adequately. A complete mother-hen in denial.
David sighed, getting up from his wheelchair-like throne and making his way over to the bed you and Dwayne were snuggled in. The sight would've warmed his heart if the circumstances would've been different. He walked around before settling down on the edge of the bed closest to you. He gave Dwayne an approving nod, "Wake them; they've rested enough." He whispered, gently stroking your cold cheek before pulling away. His poor rosebud.
Dwayne gently shook your shoulder, shifting you off of him in order not to scare you when you woke up, watching you slowly stir awake, blinking the fatigue off of your cute expression.
For you, it has, somehow, gotten worse.
Waking up, you felt feverish; your body ached similarly to how it had done hours ago. When you had—had killed that bunny.
Your hand instinctively clutched at your throat, trying to somehow dull the ache. Your hearing was blurred, but you heard distant hushes and orders before fully coming too. Your eyes focused on the concerned figures of David and Dwayne, practically looking over you as Dwayne took your hand away from your throat, hushing your pain-fueled whines. "Shh, it's okay. You're okay." Dwayne's soft but stern voice seemed to stabilize you, but the familiar need left your body twisting and shifting. Every little muscle felt utterly uncomfortable, aching torturously.
David gently combed his fingers through your hair, trying his best to calm you down. Seeing his mate, his little vampire, in such distress ruined him. "It's okay, rosebud, we're here to help." He hummed, glancing at Dwayne as they silently communicated. They slowly helped you sit up, watching the way your hand unknowingly sharpened its nails. Your body prepares itself for a meal.
"What's happened?" You stammered, hating the way you were losing control. A deep sense of fear washed over you, draining into your being. "I—David, Dwayne—"You couldn't form a proper sentence, but the words you did manage to say put the two eldest vampires into a protective frenzy.
Dwayne hushed you, gently rubbing a soothing pattern against your back. David already shrugged off his jacket, shifting his shirt to properly expose his neck to you. He watched with narrowed eyes how your gaze halted against his suddenly exposed skin, watching the small bob of your throat as you swallowed at sight.
Dwayne gently cupped the back of your head, nudging you towards David. "You're hungry, baby; look at David. He's offering you a meal, sweetheart. You'll feel better once you feed; trust us; we'll take care of you."
Your unsure gaze flashed between them, that odd feeling once again tugging at you. Your body, more than ever, felt pulled to them; they gave you comfort. A need to be with them, and in a moment of weakness, you thought yourself giving in to them. Letting your body get pulled; once close enough, David snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to practically be sitting in his lap. You inhaled the sweet scent that seemingly surrounded David, making your tense shoulders loosen, your body easing into the comfort that David provided. The bleach blood rubbed your back, trying to soothe you further. "Come on, rosebud, let those instincts take over."
The two could tell you weren't going to take a bite on your own, your mind and body too perplexed to accept the reality of your situation. Dwayne reached over, letting one of his fingernails extend into a claw-like shape and making a small slash at David's neck, letting his crimson blood trickle from the wound.
As if the smell and sight triggered your buried instincts, you latched onto David's neck. Your fangs pierce the skin with a painful clumsiness typical for a fledgling. But the sound of your eager gulps had both of the vampires relaxing, Dwayne gently moving your hair to one side as David held you close. "That's it, good job." The blonde praised, keeping a firm but caring grip on the back of your head, not letting you go until you had a full feeding. The praise, the touch, and the comfort from both of them allow you to fully relax. Letting out small sighs of relief as you drank greedily, gulping down the sweet crimson from David. Letting his blood calm every screaming nerve inside you, replacing the dull ache with a welcomed high. "Good job, sweetheart; see how good it feels to feed?" Dwayne's voice cooed gently into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
It took a while before you unlatched from David, his blood messily spread and smeared across your mouth. The sight nearly made Dwayne coo at your adorable form, your eyes a little glassy from feeling so overwhelmed. David, on the other hand, felt overly satisfied, watching your relaxed state of a post-feed high, gently nudging you to lay back down.
"What a messy little fledgling you are." He teased softly, chuckling as he watched your eyes droop. Now that your needs have been met, you feel an unexplainable tiredness, the suddenness of your exhaustion setting your nerves off once more. Before you could push yourself up again, Dwayne guided you back down. Covering you in a blanket, "Sleep baby, it's normal to feel tired after such a big meal."
You nodded, at that moment, not overthinking. "We'll be here when you wake up; rest now, rosebud." You heard David's voice whisper, the two vampires watching you drift off into a peaceful slumber.
Once they were sure you were fully asleep, they slowly crawled out of the bed. Greeting the upset-looking vampires in the main hall, all angry about being benched by the oldest. "Why did you get to feed her?" Marko cursed, casting an irritated glare toward David, who sat back down with smugness. Flashing your sloppy bite mark off to the others with pride. "Because I'm the oldest and our coven leader Marko." He explained calmly, reveling in the jealousy of others.
Paul groaned, having laid himself back up on the couch. His head was hidden in one of the cushions. "They probably looked so cute.." Dwayne smiled, your hesitance and gradual acceptance being awfully adorable in his eyes. "They sure was." He mused, making both Marko and Paul groan.
Micheal sighed, a part of him just glad you ate. But he feared for what you'd be like after waking up from your nap, with a clear head this time. Would you hate him? Indeed you couldn't accept this life so quickly; among all of them, he was the only one who didn't see this feeding as acceptance. He knew you still had a lot of things to say, and none of the boys were ready to hear it.
When you woke up again, your body felt better, stronger, and more rejuvenated. You couldn't really remember what happened when you woke up the first time, only having a hazy memory of David and Dwayne being by your side. You sat up, looking around you and the bed you were In. The sheer curtains around the bed didn't let you see anything besides silhouettes around the cave, prompting you to get up and shift out of bed.
You glanced around, analyzing your surroundings. When did you get inside a cave? You could hear distant chatter, following the sound until you entered the central part of the cave. A decrepit fountain in the center of it all, your steps echoing across the stone floors.
"You're awake!" Paul perked up as he turned around at the sound of footsteps, grinning as he saw you. He waved you over, watching your confused stare before finally making your way around and sitting down on the couch beside him. The couch cushions were soft and overused, letting you practically sink into the pillow-like cushion.
"How do you feel?" He asked, his eyes carrying the familiar blown-out expression you were used to. "Right now? I'm surprisingly fine." Paul grinned at the answer, taking a quick drag of his joint before moving closer. "Now that's all I ever want to hear, baby."
"Piss off, you crack-head!" Micheal hissed, shoving Paul's face away from yours. You jumped at the sudden intrusion, standing up from the couch. "Micheal, we need to talk." You said sternly, ignoring the way Paul cackled behind you two.
The brunette nodded, walking back over to the bed the boys had set up for you. If David returned from his hunt early with Dwayne, the two overprotective vampires would roast him alive if they found out he had taken you out of their nest. He slid the curtains closed, trying to regain a semblance of privacy for you. "Okay," he murmured, crossing his legs as you two settled on the bed. "Hit me with it."
You sighed, initially wanting to leave wherever the hell you were. But you didn't seem to have the strength to settle back on the bed, sitting criss-cross and fiddling with the hem of your shirt. "What the hell has been going on? I mean—what am I? What are you?" Questions kept escaping you like a bunch of word vomit, making Micheal hold up his hands to try and silence you.
"Slow down," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't want to hurt you with this information, but he knew it was a hard pill to swallow.
"Firstly, you're a vampire. We're not sure from who, but someone had turned you. The act is done by being bitten and then promptly consuming the other's blood."
As if the world didn't feel like it was falling down onto your shoulders, the cumbersome weight of your malicious reality certainly did wonders in keeping you in a constant state of disparity. You didn't want to believe Micheal, but you knew better than to sit in a puddle of denial. It wouldn't change a thing; you'd just drag out the pain longer. Before you could properly grieve your past life, the two devil twins came barging into your space. Jumping onto the mattress, making all of you bounce into the air before landing not so gracefully against the mattress.
"Jesus Christ, you two! Will you chill out? This ain't exactly easy for her to take in." Micheal argued, sitting back up with an irritated stare. But there was nothing much his words could do as the two blondes surrounded you.
"Cheer up, sugar! Being a vampire ain't all that bad; we can do some pretty cool things too!" Marko cheered, his energy quickly matched by Paul as they tried to cheer you up. They couldn't stand the sight of you sulking, no one in the cave could, but everyone was so preoccupied with your situation that even the century-old immortals didn't know what to do.
But you still couldn't get over the fact that you now had to kill people; what had happened to you filled you with such rage that you didn't know what to do with yourself. You had been wronged, and every fiber of your miserable being wanted to rip whoever did this to you apart by the seams. "Mhm, sounds great, Marko." You murmured into the crook of your arm, not really paying attention as you sat curled up on the bed.
Both Marko and Paul glanced at each other at your dull response, Paul's expression contorting to one of worry. He wasn't the best at comforting you, especially since he had wanted his turning, and although the thought of someone else harming you made his blood boil; in secret, a deeply-hidden part of him was glad. Now you were like them and could live together for the rest of your immortal lives. The two glanced at each other before nodding, bouncing off the cave and hiding behind the sheer curtains.
You hadn't even noticed them leaving, or at least you didn't acknowledge it. But the sound of subtle little squeaks had you lifting your head, letting out a small gasp of your own as you were bombarded by two blonde bats. One had fluffy blonde hair, while the other's fur appeared more curly, no doubt being reminiscent of the two blonde bikers. "Paul—Marko?" You called out, getting little chirps back in return. Paul flew around you a couple of times before landing on your head, making a mess of your hair. Marko didn't sit still, flying around you, giving you a slight nip here and there to keep you on edge as you laughed.
"I didn't know you could turn into bats!" You laughed, for a moment finding paece in the distraction the two provided. The sound of your small laughter provided the cave with an unseeable light, but all of them could feel it. Paul and Marko flopped back into their human form, grabbing your arm and hoisting you off of the bed. "Come on, darlin', you can do it too!" Paul cheered, Marko, nodding eagerly as the two distracted you.
Dwayne put the bag of clothes he had gotten for you in his hand down, letting his feet drop to the floor with David's. He let out a sigh, getting up and walking over to the two terror twins. "So she can fall onto the cave floor?" He asked, his disapproval clear in his authoritative tone.
"Lighten up, Dwayne! So you fall a little; what's so wrong with that? It's all part of the fun." Marko argued, mentally challenging Dwayne. Everyone knew their intention was to distract you, and although Dwayne couldn't stand the sight of you sulking, he wouldn't put you in danger, either. He prefers you brooding then having to you see your body black and blue from screaming bruises.
"You call falling on your ass fun?" Micheal chummed in, letting his body rest against the headboard of the bed, dramatically rubbing his butt to lighten the mood.
"Not everyone is as bad as you are when it comes to flying, Mikey," Paul argued, rolling his eyes.
"She shouldn't transform until she's had a proper meal." The authoritative voice of David chimes in, effectively ruining your mood. You wanted to stand up and argue with the blonde, to stomp your foot into the ground and demand he stops commanding you. But you were out of your element here; even if you wanted to be stubborn, you're just hurting yourself. "I am not killing anyone, David."
You watched his cold eyes narrow at you, wanting to watch you waiver, but seeing the resilient look on your face made him sigh. He pulled out a cigarette in a desperate attempt to calm his nerves. His little mate was denying themselves proper health, and although he might act uncaring, it was worrying him sick. The boys had agreed to give you some time to adjust, but as the coven leader, it was his job to assure the health and safety of all his members. Especially you.
"Don't worry about it; you can still drink from us whenever you feel hungry." Micheal hummed, his tone gentle and reassuring as he rested his hand on your shoulder. Gently rubbing the tense muscle as you settled back into your seat. You nodded, cringing subtly at the idea before deciding to drop it.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" Paul's sultry voice echoed in your ear, making your hands twitch with an unfamiliar itch. Excitement spreads through you, filling you with a sense of adrenaline. You slowly realized what position you were actually in, Paul lying underneath you, your hips straddling his as he rested his hand on your thigh. In your roughness, his jacket seemed to half slide down his shoulders, now resting against the crevice of his elbows. His mesh-like top left little to the imagination, his pale chest on display for your hungry eyes. He looked delicious.
As if Paul could tell he was losing your attention, he rutted his hips against your aching nerves. Letting out a shaky sigh, his signature crooked grin spreading across his features as he watched you suck in a breath. "Eyes on me baby, just feel with me, yeah?" Despite neither of you needing air, he sounded practically breathless; but you also felt breathless. Your post-drinking haze left your body so sensitive, every little spark of friction igniting a new addiction deep within you. You two felt like pure sin.
You have been in the cave for about two weeks now. Letting yourself feed regularly off of the vampires you were staying with, none of you liked to address the elephant in the room that was your turning. The mate bond between you all had strengthened, leading you all to be closer than before throughout this time. Even David acted softer around you. But something you weren't prepared for was the many feelings associated with feeding, more specifically the lust.
In all your rampant thoughts, you failed to see Marko pull the sheer curtain back, his eyes lighting mischievously at the display. He tugged off his boots, slowly sneaking over to you; your back still turned to him. He watched silently before slowly pushing himself against you. His chest against your back, the smell of the forest and fresh blood sticking to his skin. You moaned at the smell, letting the back of your head rest against his shoulder. As if sensing your uncertainty about actually indulging yourself, Marko slowly let his delicate hands trail towards your hips. Slowly, he guided yours to grind against Paul's aching bulge.
You let out a shaky breath, one that came out shaky and chopped as you let your body tingle at the feeling. Although it felt good at that very moment, it only fueled your need. Your hand gripped Markos, a weak attempt at stopping him from tempting you.
"Ah ah, let me darlin'." He mused, his tone so coy you could practically hear his smugness. He continued rocking your hips, one of the hands holding your hips gradually moving upwards sensually before ending at your chin. Cupping the skin in a firm grip, he slowly removed your head hiding in the crook of his neck and titled it towards the debauched sight of a panting Paul. His bottom lip was caught in between his lips, and one of his eyes squeezed shut as his chest heaved up and down in a complete state of breathlessness.
"Look at him, all messy for you." He pointed out, moving your hips to push particularly roughly against Paul, making both of you moan at the friction. Unlike Dwayne and Michael, Marko and Paul didn't want to comfort you in the sense that this situation was terrible, but instead accept what you now were. How good it could feel, what it was like to have the freedom to explore every ounce of your most concealed secrets.
"Lesson one of being a vampire," Marko mused, removing his hold on you. The two changed positions with you. Paul now leaning his back against the headboard, legs spread with you in between them, your back pressed against his chest. His hand trailed around your waist, teasing your shirt before slipping underneath. His fingers now torment your searing skin, which in reality was just as freezing as the two blondes was. Marko nudged your legs open, laying on his front so his head rested conveniently between your thighs. He guided them open, caressing your skin soothingly.
"Feeding is often accompanied by an insatiable–" Marko purred, kissing up the length of your thigh. "And nearly irresistible," He continued but was cut off by Paul, who had begun massaging your sides; "hunger," Paul finished.
"So why don't you lean back and let us care for ya'?" Paul mused, practically whispering the phrase into your ear. In a similar fashion, you would've imagined the snake talking Eve into biting into the apple, Paul and Marko were the current embodiment of Lucifer for you, and this time you weren't in the mood to repent. No, you'd welcome the flames of hell eagerly, the masochist inside you hoping to feel the sting of its flames. With a nod of your head, a messy high clouding you with need, you officially sold your soul to the two devils holding you.
Marko grinned, his lips trailing kisses up your thigh, inching closer to where you needed him to be. They were teasing you, your needy eyes watching Marko kiss over your most needy spot, his teeth nipping the top of your pants, one of his fangs sticking out from the fabric. He looked up, his darkened gaze connected with yours as he patiently pulled your undergarments down.
As if in a desperate attempt not to lose your attention, Paul nipped at your neck. The sudden action sends a small jolt of electricity through you, pulling a soft mewl from you. Marko cooed at the noise while Paul chuckled, both clearly amused by your current state. They knew how hormonal fledglings could be, like animals in heat; Micheal was no different.
They had helped him out too, and they were most eager to provide their services now as well.
No matter how hard they tried, how often they showed you the normality in their ways. You couldn't wrap your head around it, that nagging resistance keeping you awake. You couldn't enter this life without committing yourself to a final attempt at regaining your old one. So, when the others went out to eat after feeding you. You left, setting out for your last, and final attempt at regaining your old humanity.
The leaves rustled with a strange ferocity as you pushed your way through the untraveled path. You didn't want to accept what you were; there needed to be an alternative. You didn't want to admit it, so when the daunting forest around your figure cleared, you saw the back of the church. You wanted to believe in that hope, that perhaps all these values preached and thrown down your throat had a purpose.
The forest was at the back of the church, revealing a small garden enclosed by a white picket fence. You hopped it, letting your bloody hands stain the purity of its color permanently. You rushed towards the back door, balling your first and desperately pounding in the creaky wooden door. You quickly shifted your focus, trying to open the door and jiggling the handle. "Please! Someone—anyone, please!"
Not hearing an answer, you stumbled back. Your tears make you choke on your own sorrow, rushing around toward the front of the building. "Please, Father! Anyone, please!" You begged, continuing to slam your hand against the door. It wasn't until it opened that you stood stunned, chest heaving, hands stained, and body soaked. You wailed in front of this man's sanctuary. Begging entry.
The man appeared elderly, with white and gray hair dominating the little hair he still had left on his head. His black cassock made his position as a priest clear, but you didn't dare move. You felt the need to be invited in.
"Goodness! Child, come, come inside." He ushered you into the old building; there were candles lighting the area, casting everything in a warm glow. You stepped inside, unable to stop your shaking, until the man covered you in a blanket. He was probably trying to provide your frigid body with warmth. "What happened to you?"
"Father, please, you need to help me. I need help—please, I need aid." You stammered, letting him guide you into a back room away from the main hall. He listened to you, his brows and face contorted in worry. "Calm down; you are safe now."
The room seemed less decorated but more elaborate than you would've thought it would be in the church, but you didn't say much as you sat down in the empty chair across the old desk. This must've been some sort of office. The priest stared for a moment, his gaze lingering on your stained hands before shuffling around the desk. His shoes thumped across the red carpet covering half of the dark oak floors. He sat down, letting his hands intertwine, and he rested them folded on the edge of the desk. "So, my child, what brings you here? What has brought you to my doors in such distress?"
You needed a moment to collect yourself for that question. What hadn't happened to you in the last week? Every horror imaginable seemed to be flowing through your life at the moment. A part of you wanted to lie, but you knew that hiding the true nature of your case would prevent you from getting any practical help. This was necessary. Clearing your throat, you slowly gather your perseverance to continue.
"Father, you must believe what I have to say. I am new to Santa Carla, but in my stay, I've encountered death and despair more than in any other place." You started, your voice shook and a clear representation of what you were feeling, utterly distraught. The man nodded, seemingly focused on you as he urged you to continue. "But what I originally thought were simple gangsters, feuds, and typical street violence became much darker. Vampires, Father, Vampires reside in this town, and I've found myself to be one of them."
You were desperate; frantic eyes watched the man inhale and lean back in his chair. He thought deeply, or at least the look of concentration was deeply etched into the creases of his face. He sighed, uncrossing his hand and gently reaching out to rest a comforting hand on top of yours.
"My child, I've read the bible well. The true structure of this world and how it came to be, the only time vampires were ever named—or mentioned. Alukah only ever being mentioned in Sefer Chasidim, where the creature is understood to be a living human being but can shape-change into a wolf. Alukah can also roughly be translated to "blood-lusting monster" or, in your case, a vampire."
He had a calm tone, deep and raspy, but it seemed to have an oddly chiding tone. He moved away, leaning fully back now against his chair as he chuckled. "But my dear, I assure you that these are old tales; such demons do not exist among us anymore."
His words were like a splash of cold water to the face, a deep, unsettling reality overcoming you. You sounded crazy; of course, no one would believe you. "But Father!" He held his hand up to silence you, shaking his head in a disapproving manner. "You can lie to me, but you cannot fool the Lord."
Anger seemed to replace your sorrow, standing up abruptly, the stool you were previously resting in falling to the floor with a loud clunk. "I am not lying!" You screeched, your face unknowingly morphing into one similar to the boys. Angled features, sharp bones, and burning yellow eyes. The man stumbled back, stammering as he took in the demonic sight that was you. His hand unknowingly grabbed onto his cross, moving out of his chair.
"I need your help Father; I have not consumed human blood yet! There needs to be a way to fix this!" Once again, you were pleading. A part of you was growing sick of it; how could a man detest your current nature but refuse to help you revert back to your "purer" self at the same time? It was hypocritical.
The hand holding the pectoral cross shook with a small tremor, breath equally as rough when it escaped his shaken form. His free hand covered his mouth, either trying to hide his labored breathing or trying to regain composure. You weren't quite sure. The silence in the room now was unsettling, threatening even—leaving you on edge. Finally, the old man's hoarse voice cut through the air as he removed the pale hand from his mouth. He waved it toward him as he walked over before passing you and opening the door. Standing beside the frame as he beckoned you to follow.
"Come come, my child. We must act quickly; you have the devil inside you. With every moment we waste, it'll grow stronger." You nodded, cringing at his choice of words before slowly following him. You would've argued at the choice of words but didn't seem to have the energy to do so. You followed as he led you through the church, leading you towards the back door you had previously banged on. He opened it, leading you towards the backyard. To the left, there was a small gravely path that shortly led to a wooden shed. Wood rot was apparent when you looked at the dying boards that made up the shed's walls.
He unlocked the shed with his key; the loud cling of chains dropping was quickly followed by the squeak of old hinges being forced to move again as he opened the door. It was an average shed if it didn't have a hidden doorway behind a shabby bookshelf. The old man pushed the shelf to the left, revealing a mossy, dirty stairway further down in what you assume to be a basement.
As if the priest could see your confusion, he began to say, "This church used to perform a multitude of exorcisms. We used to do it in the old church, but people began associating it too much with demons, so we renovated the old shack basement to do the job. That was a while ago," He mumbled, walking down the steps and revealing an equally run-down setup. There was a bed, shabby with a mattress stained with yellow and brown. The bed frame seemed to be made of rusted metal, not undoubtedly a cheap purchase at the time. Restrains we're hanging from each end of the bed.
Every fiber of your being was begging you not to lay on that mattress, but your own desperation convinced you. It convinced you to lie down and let that man tie you up; it made you trust him to cure you.
"So what will you do?"
"What I need too."
His gruff voice echoed through the room; he had tied something loosely around your eyes. Explaining that it was all part of the process. You heard him open on an old shelf, the sound of clinking wood making you uneasy. Your instincts screamed at you, but you weren't sure for what. You didn't understand yourself anymore, and the frustration coursing through you nearly brought you to tears. You just wanted all of this to be over, to understand yourself once again.
"And what would that be?" You edged further, feeling like something was wrong.
"What I was born to do."
His voice grew darker, lowering an octave or two, making you shift. The blindfold slid at your defiance, sliding off of one of your eyes. Snapping them open, you took in a sight you'd surely never forget. There, a man swore to do no harm and held a wooden spike in his shaky hand. The other clutching his cross to his heart while whispering mantras. He didn't even hesitate as he saw your yellow eyes open before he slashed forward, putting his full force into the throw of the stake.
Perhaps it was instinct, or perhaps it was simply foolish for the man to believe leather binds would chain you. But in a moment of adrenaline, you pushed your body away from the mattress, your wrists and ankles suffering a burn from the sudden action as you snapped yourself away from your murder. Watching the way his sheer force stabbed the stake through the mattress, your eyes lingering on sight.
That blow was meant to kill you.
"You fucking bastard!" You growled, a distorted tone to your voice as you took a step towards him. But with your lack of control, your hand was around the man's throat with his old back smashed against one of the walls.
"I trusted you! What kind of priest are you? You are meant to aid, protect, and serve. I am still one of God's creations! You taint your very purpose in this life with your actions!" The hand around his neck tightened, your claws unwilling to draw blood. Your eyes zeroed in on the sinful liquid, the smell so much more intense than of any of the boys.
The boys.
David was right; they were right. There was no turning back for you.
"You will never—be one of God's—creations."
Those were his last words before you ripped his throat out with your teeth. Dismembering the man's jugular, drinking away the last of your crumbling humanity. There was an irony in it that the remains of your dying humanity weren't taken from the vampires you now lived with but by a human themselves.
The man fell to the floor, eyes a haunting color. They were cloudy; you couldn't describe the sight of his pale skin mimicking the shade of yours.
You wailed, grieving everything you were as you sat hunched on the floor. Covered in the blood of the man who tried, and in some way—killed you.
You weren't sure how long you sat there, frozen, until the boys came. A hand gently shaking your shoulder, making you jump, meeting the eyes of a saddened Paul. "Oh, darlin'.." He whispered, watching you stammer, desperate to explain. But he simply picked you up, bridal-style, and led you out where the rest of the boys stood.
Marko walked over, letting Paul set you on the ground before the curly-haired vampire pulled you into a tight hug. A hug which all of the boys joined, their hearts breaking at the sound of your sobs. "It's okay, it'll be okay," Marko whispered, holding you close.
"Come on, let's take you home." David sighed after a moment. His voice drowned out in the hauntingly silent night.
That evening was the second and final marking of your death. The first takes place in an alleyway by a vampire, and the job is finished by a human. You struggled after that night; you barely ate or talked. You felt awful, your thoughts not abandoning you or your guilt. You were a murderer.
That all had taken place a few days ago, your body now sat on the roof along the boardwalk. It was a motel, two stories high, so you found a semblance of privacy on top of the concrete roof. You sat on the thick stone wall of a fence, letting your legs dangle over the edge.
"I'll never forget the day I made my first victim." Micheals voice cut through the distant booming of chatter and joy taking place below you by the adolescent and naive party-goers on the boardwalk.
"It was April 6th, at about 12:06. I lost my life forever." He went on, walking closer towards you. Stopping beside you and leaning on the fence with his forearms. His gaze lingered on the glowing boardwalk, casting everything surrounding it in a golden orange.
"So we're all murderers.." You murmured, eyes not meeting him, but you knew he was now looking at you. Your tone was cold and distant.
"He was a child molester." Micheal spat, standing up and gently moving you so you looked at him. "We don't have to be monsters, Y/N; we don't have to kill the good. I chose to take the evil from this world, and you can too."
You nodded weakly, not in the mood to argue. You let a frail smile tug on your lips, nodding to his words as you let him wrap an arm around your shoulder and squeeze you close before slowly leaving. Giving you space. Once again, you were surrounded by silence. Nothing but the blurred screams from ride-goers, drunks laughing and prancing around on the ground beneath you.
"He's wrong." That crystal clear voice, his tone stern and unwavering even if David tried to sound gentle. But his words felt icy like a cold bucket of water was poured over you. Sinking into the skin, leaving goosebumps to ravage your already frigid body. When Micheals words provided comfort, as if holding your wounded heart in his hands, David seemed to drop it instead.
"What?"
He walked over, the sound of his boots tapping against the concrete. You didn't necessarily look at him, but you noticed he settled beside you. His body bent forward, forearms resting against the wall-like railing on the rooftop. You both stood there in silence, watching the stars glitter across the ocean's surface. The silent, cruel breeze drifts through your hair and body. Seagulls cried, and boardwalk goers partied, but you felt so far away from it all. It made you question the finality of your death and where it had really occurred. Did you die in that alleyway or when you let go of your remaining humanity? You were sure a part of you must die in order to take a life; death is inevitable for either party. There is no such thing as only one dying; the other might live but never completely. Your humanity had died along with that priest.
"You are a monster." David's voice was stern, clear, and factual. Your gaze turned to him finally, seeing the way he stared so longingly out at the sea before turning to you.
"What the fuck David?" You snapped, feeling like this was not the time for him to throw his own values onto you. You had killed someone, taken a life, and instead of trying to bring you any consultation, he insulted you?
"Don't you think I feel shitty enough? Fuck this, I know, okay? I know you don't need to stand here and rub it in my face!" Why had you expected anything else from the blonde, you couldn't lie to David, and he had neither lied to you. He was, on many occasions, the truth.
"You are a monster, Y/N. You will never die; you will never age." He hummed, ignoring your outburst as he took out a cigarette and lit it. He held it up to his lips, taking a long drag, dropping his hand against the railing before blowing out the smoke. "But you must feed." There was a finality in his town that made you suffer as if you were the only one who noticed the morbid aberration of your circumstances. But how were you supposed to explain your regret about eating a sheep to a hungry pack of wolves?
"What if I don't want to?" You asked, voice hoarse from the raw emotions you felt. You wanted to smack him, berate him to find another time to torment you.
"You'll kill someone you actually like." He whispered an answer that took you off guard. Eyes trailing back to him, you noticed that haze. A similar one to what Michael used to wear whenever he encountered an old memory. Yes, David seemed to be dancing in his past.
"But make no mistake, Y/N. You are a monster. A filthy abomination that feeds off the weak, the defenseless." He focused his cold gaze on you, "You will fall apart the day you realize just how much you enjoy it. The screams, the suffering, the pain. It will be the only consistent factor in your life. And when you look around and see the constant deterioration of mankind. You will turn and see us." He took another drag of his cigarette before dropping it, suffocating its flame with his boot. "We are monsters too, Y/N."
"I will never let you forget it. I will tell you every day before you rest and when you awake." There was an odd gentleness to his tone, one that made you look up at him once more. Although you could hardly bear to keep eye contact with the man.
"Why?" You had a thousand questions running wild throughout your head, an intimidating rampage and riot pushing through, begging millions of questions to be answered. They stuck in your throat like a lump, a noose around your vocals, keeping you silent. Finally, you managed to settle on that one word. Why?
"Do you think a lion thinks of itself as a monster when it eats a gazelle?"
"We aren't animals, David–"
"But aren't we? We're all just mammals trying to get by. A lion doesn't feel guilty for killing because that's what a lion simply does. They need to in order to survive." His eyes seemed to burn into you, a desperate sense of vulnerability taking hold of his features. It seemed David wanted to spare you from your own feelings, to clear the path you were going on, no doubt one he had walked before.
"But what if we asked the gazelle what they thought of the lion. When a meal would mean losing a brother or sister, mother or father, the gazelle would see the lion as a monster too."
A heavy wind blew through your hair, reminding you of the night air. Whispering about the daytime and how you would never be able to see it again. Feel its warmth kiss your skin, see its joyful birth across the horizon. The wind mocked you, and the night sky never felt so empty before.
"So?" You asked, wanting a conclusion to this lesson. A small chuckle parted from David, the blonde finding your impatience amusing.
"The term monster is subjectable. It depends on who you ask, rosebud. To them," He gestured to the late-night party-goers. "You will always and forever be a monster." But before you could frown, even dare settle on that phrase for too long. He turned to you, taking your hand and squeezing it. As if you'd let go, leaving him alone. "But to us, you are everything."
"I'll call you a monster until the word doesn't sting anymore."
He whispered, cupping your cheek. You noted the lack of his gloves, for the first time touching his bare skin. He leaned closer, kissing the top of your forehead lovingly. It was an embrace in some way, a sweet and gentle promise. That no matter what you become, he'd love you.
"We'll be down at the boardwalk if you want to join us; you can't stay sulking forever, rosebud.." He whispered, leaving you alone to think once more.
When you did make your way down the sandy docks, feeling grain against your shoe as you walked with a sunken head. You wondered how your life had changed so drastically since you came to Santa Carla, whether everything was for better or worse.
"Hey, Darlin!"
The booming voice of a happy Paul called to you, making you look up. Before you stood your gang of boys leaning against the wooden railing of the boardwalk pier. Their bikes were parked beside them, all smiling as they looked at you. There was fondness in their eyes you could describe, but as you walked over and were encircled by your boys. All equally ecstatic to see you—you felt less alone. Welcomed even. You still had a long way to go, but for once in a long while, did you feel alright. Perhaps, becoming a vampire wasn't the worst thing that's ever happened to you.
Marko’s voice was unusually soft as he entered into the nesting area where you lay resting in Paul’s arms. You were laying on your side, your face pressed into Paul’s chest as he sat still on his back for you to use him as your personal teddy bear.
“Not yet,” Paul whispered back, eyes not leaving your form as you breathed deeply, in and out, almost in a entrancing pattern.
“We’re heading out soon, you should wake her up,” Marko nearly bursted into laughter at Paul’s horrified looking face.
“You know she hates when she wakes up and we’re gone,” Dwayne murmured lowly, hovering in the doorway.
“I just hate waking her- she looks so peaceful when she’s sleeping,” Paul’s pout was obvious as he looked to Marko and Dwayne with puppy eyes.
“I’ll help you,” Dwayne decided, his lips upturning into a smile as he approached the bed, crawling to lay behind you just where David had been hours before to help you fall asleep.
Rather than wake you though, the two simply watched- all desire to awaken you from your deep slumber gone. Your breath was deep and slow, your mouth open ever so slightly as your cheek was squished against Paul’s body. Your lips looking soft and pretty and oh so sweet, something they always remembered from your kisses. The answers of someone like you could love a rowdy group like them always evaded them. You were gentle, pretty, soft, and kind. Heart swelling of sympathy, your heart always on display. In concert with that you were understanding, trying your best to understand everyone- even if they had hurt you. Now these guys? They killed for fun, terrorizing people on the Boardwalk when they got too bored, and enticed others to make bad decisions that would end up benefitting them despite the hurt it would cause to those actually making such decisions.
“Babycakes,” Paul murmured lowly, tone not too loud as to not startle you awake. “Time to wake up, sweet thing,” He leaned his head down to press kisses against your forehead, arm reaching up to draw patterns on your back.
“It’s time to get up, little one,” Dwayne whispered from behind, his hand massaging yours- each knuckle getting an affectionate rub before he moved to your palm.
Stirring from your sleep, Paul frowned as your expression lost it’s peacefulness and was replaced with scrunched brows- your mouth shutting as your head twisted to bury more into Paul’s chest.
“Oh, c’mon now babycakes,” Paul couldn’t help but laugh at your antics, making a sleepy grin form on your face as you pulled yourself from his chest to stare at him. “Why d’ya wake me up?” Your words were slightly slurred from sleep, your eyes bleary as you pouted up at him.
“So you could have time to wake up before we left, love,” David now called from the doorway, Marko standing at the edge of the bed.
“Mmm,” You closed your eyes in thought.
“Hey hey, don’t fall back asleep,” Marko called out to you, making you open your eyes again with a laugh, “I wasn’t trying to, I was just thinking…”
“Thinking about what?” Dwayne murmured, taking your hand up towards his mouth to give a kiss to it.
“Thinking about- those,” You looked at Dwayne, making his eyebrow arch in a silent question.
“Kisses,” You clarified, a grin spreading across your cheeks.
“Oh I see, our little love wants kisses?” David grinned, approaching the bed.
“As a payment, of course,” You nodded at David, “Payment for waking me up so early.”
“A payment is only fair,” Dwayne murmured, turning your head to press a kiss to your lips, a sound of surprise leaving you before you melted into him. The kiss ended all too soon, only for Paul to tilt your face towards him for his own kiss to be placed on your lips.
David’s hands were free of his leather gloves for once, his hands feeling much softer than the leather as they cupped your cheeks and brought you into a deep kiss.
“My turn,” Marko’s voice greeted your ears in a singsong manner after a moment, his impatience showing as when you opened your eyes he was already biting his nails to stave off his urge to approach you.
“Marko,” You cooed, arms open for him as he eagerly clambered onto the bed, careful not to crush you with his weight as he pressed kisses all around your face, your laughs filling the room and their hearts before he captured your lips in his.
Maybe they weren’t the nicest people, or the kindest- heck they were murderers… but you chose them, chose to love them and you didn’t shy away from their secret when they told you but embraced them with a warmth that never dimmed.
“Mmm,” You sighed, “I think that satisfies payment in full, my dear boys.”
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