Tear me apart—Ellie Williams x vampire!reader
╰›Synopsis: An overworked astrophysics TA with not enough time on her hands and a supply of energy drinks that is currently running dangerously low, meets a freshly turned vampiric med student who has no clue what she's doing and is currently babysitting her pseudo nephew. Through experimentation, sheer determination and too much caffeine, they will embark on a journey to possibly turn her human again and save her from the vampire hunter next door.
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦ ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦
warnings : playful bullying, slow burn, lot of talk about blood, cursing, fake dating, loser!Ellie, vampire hunter!abby, semi smut with abby, reader ragebaiting abby & ellie, suggestive acts of play, ellie being a pain slut and liking being bitten, reader bites ellie.
ᯓ★pluto's pieceˎˊ˗ theyre backkkkkkk! gonna write tf outta these fics and finish everything by the end of the summer i swear it! and if i don't ill post my address and yall can come over and beat me up :3 Also it's gonna get a lot freakier from here, everybody lock tf in!
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦ ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦
Hypothesis two: What does my blood taste like?
Prologue ┆ Masterlist┆Previous Experiment ┆ Next Experiment
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦ ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦
One week. One full week of knowing your secret and Ellie finds herself obsessing over it constantly. She wonders how you pick your victims, what you do to them, how it feels when you drain them of their energy. It's gotten so bad that she's had to buy a new notebook–faux green leather, a red page marker, one spiral sticker on the corner-specifically so she can write down her theories, her questions, everything pertaining to you.
The first day she bought it, Ellie immediately opened the blank page, green eyes challenging the cream colored paper. She stayed like that for a while, begging for inspiration on what her first words would be, a small part of her advising against the opening: I know a vampire, they're real and she's hot. Instead, she picks up her pencil, the graphite dirtying the page to her vision.
Her fingers leave smudged graphite print marks as she draws your eyes. Theyre looking dead on, staring into her soul as she tries to capture the essence behind them. The anger, the fear, the bloodlust you try to control–she wants to convey it all.
She's so fascinated by them, how can two orbs create such a tale that goes unsaid by their owner? Yet, she sketches away, music blaring in her eardrums, the mood set. Ellie still hasn't told you of your current situations…er, situation. Abby Anderson, the meathead who captured your heart is a killer of your kind. The lines around your lashes come out thicker, her anger flowing through her pencil.
Oh, how she wanted to erase Abby. She was just annoying, a thorn in Ellie’s side that she couldn't seem to get rid of. Jealousy was something she felt very rarely, something she forced down until it no longer bothered her. She did it with Dina, she did it with Kat, she could do it with you.
It's not like she had feelings for you, you were just a friend–too strong a word, maybe— that she found attractive. But–your proximity to Abby was killing her, hearing Abby's name fall from your lips all sugary and dream-like, watching your phone screen light up with Abby's cutesy contact name, the way you would essentially dive for your phone the minute her text blinged in your ears–it grossed her out.
The pupils of your eyes have no shine. She adds them.. There's always a glimmer in your eye when you see her, like you're always excited to be in her presence, it bothers her. How can you gush about Abby but stare at her with those little sparkles? Do you look at everyone with such admiration, or is it just her? Do you look at Abby like that?
When she's finished, your eyes stare back at her, an almost splitting image of the look that undresses her to her core, corrupting her mind into believing whatever falls from your mouth. You could sell her sand in a desert and she would still praise you as being a savior.
Ellie stares at her handy work for far too long, almost as if the drawing will tell her what goes on behind them. Like at any moment, they’ll reveal all of your secrets. How stupid.
There's a knock on her door, enough to startle her, her left arm shutting the book too quickly. She's sure she's smudged your likeness. “Hey, Els?” Jesse’s voice calls from behind it, he's supposed to be relaxing on the couch chugging a beer–just the one–while babysitting JJ. It is a Tuesday after all. Ellie rushes to the door, awkwardly tripping over the strewn clothes and figures that decorate her floor. She’ll clean them up, someday.
The door swings inwards, nearly catching her as she tries to play it off. Ellie stands there in her marvel logoed pajama pants, the tops of her at home boxers–plaid and a size too big for her slender frame–a black t-shirt, and her glasses sliding off the bridge of her nose. “Whatsup?” She leans against the door, her attempt at being cool and nonchalant falling flat.
Jesse gives her a once over, eyebrow raising at his friend. “Right. Uh, can you watch JJ for a minute? I got called into work and Y/n wont be here until like two hours from now.” He checks his watch. Ellie wants to say: “Why doesn't she just fly here?” instead she doesn't react right away. “Uh, yeah sure. Whatever.” Jesse doesn't comment on the strangeness of her cadence, neither does he acknowledge her sweaty brow.
She believes she's gotten away with it, Jesse thinks she should switch to indica.
Moments later she sits in the shared living room, watching JJ bounce around in his walker, mind zooming through scenarios on how telling you about Anderson would go. Is it wrong that she feels a little…giddy? Her heart pounds in excitement just beneath her freckled chest, a small part of her salivates at comforting you during your time of need.
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦ ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦
Tuesdays were always hard for you. Usually, it's the start of your work week–the dreaded time that you would have to spend dealing with a boss that gave you the creeps and drunk-too early customers who had nothing better to do than pass out in between two shot glasses. You hated Tuesdays.
But, D.D is gone. Dead off a cliff, body burnt to a crisp after you devoured him like he was a rack of extremely fattening ribs. You still remember the taste of his skin, the pull of his intestines as you ripped them apart with your canines, and you still had bits of him stored safely in the back of your freezer.
You had to admit that his body tasted delicious, something along the lines of jerky or bacon. Meaty yet tender, with just enough snap to be addictive.
It would have made human-you sick, however, the vampire version of you had almost no inhibitions. You struggled with the whole “undead” thing for about a day, the new strength and speed overwhelmed you–but now, now you were comfortable, if only minimally. You stole people's life force silently, bathed in the flashing lights that contrasted the inky darkness of the night.
You’ve become bolder, more confident and far more brash. Being dead felt freeing. Having powers felt awesome. You somehow felt more alive while being completely dead.
Everyone who knew you acknowledged it, you were always a free soul but now it seemed like something had changed, had deepened that freedom to not take others opinions into consideration. Cockiness.
You walked into work, booted feet hitting the groudy wood floors, heel sticking slightly in the forever stuck spilled crystalized cocktail mixture. As soon as the bar door closed behind you it was like the world invaded your senses all at once: the police hauling out multiple documents out of D.D’s office, they looked as if they were in search of something that evaded them. Still, bins and bins of paper flew past you in a sea of navy blue and beige.
Are they here because of you? Maybe they figured out it really wasnt a suicide. Had someone seen you both going home together that night ?Maybe they were scared and finally grew the balls to speak up. Could you be linked to his murder?
‘It couldn't be’, you told yourself, the police had questioned all the employees when his body was first discovered, there's no way they're investigating further. All the staff there had complained about how horrible of a boss D.D had been, how he cut hours without notice and would “lose” employees checks once in a while leaving people starving and having to fend for themselves, how he sexually harassed the female employees–sometimes so badly that they had to quit to protect themselves.
He was disgusting and you and everyone else were glad he was finally dead.
Your mind too anxious and filled to the brim with jittery thoughts, you barely heard Rita, the older hostess of the establishment. A blonde lady in her 40s, an unlit cigarette hanging from her lips at all times, a soft country accent that seemed strange for the city, and a tough love attitude that made you feel protected. Like a work mom.
“Suga’!” She loved to call you sugar in that warming, motherly tone, something you had once hated but soon grew to enjoy. “A sweet name for a sweet girl,” she always tells you that. It warmed your heart in ways you couldn't express. It was Rita who listened to your woes about college and tuition, Rita who would bring you groceries when you had no money to pay for your own. Rita looked out for you, like you were her own flesh and blood.
The sweet name pulled you back to reality, feet staying stagnant as she curled an acrylic lined finger towards herself. She beckoned you, so you followed, eyes dazed and mouth slightly agape. “What the hell is going on?” You're tone hushed, but slightly too loud for her ears.
“The police department found out that Mister Daniels was into some shady shit before he died.” Her voice matches yours–hushed and cautious–as if she was divulging classified information. Your eyes grew wide, not at the news but at the thought that D.D was somehow still fucking you over from beyond the grave, fucking with your paycheck as he had done time and time before.
“Fuck–sorry, shoot.” Rita’s face gave you that grimace she was famous for, she had a thing–unexplainable and kind of annoying–against that“fuck” word, trying desperately to remove it from your vocabulary—it never took. “What does this mean for the bar?” Calling it a bar was a very large overstatement. Sports bar? A knock off Hooters? Whatever it is, it gave you trauma no therapist would be able to fix.
“They’re shutting ‘er down, sweetheart.” Rita’s lips pulled into a tight line, shifting to the side in disappointment. “What?!” If your heart could still beat it would have stopped, again. “Rita, how the hell am I supposed to pay my friggin rent? I can’t survive off of babysitting alone!” You run an anxious hand through your hair. In one swift motion it feels as though a rug has been pulled out from beneath you, your world’s building blocks collapsing into a broken heap in front of you.
You reach into your pocket, pull out the carton of cigarettes that already fell into line, and pull out the one that you deemed worthy of taking your anxieties away—even for just a moment. You light it, disregarding the no smoking sign behind you, if it's all going to shit anyways you might as well, right? “Ma’am, can you take that outside?” An officer warns, his tone low and dangerous, and yet you stare him in the eyes, no fear–just annoyance. “Can you fuck off for like two seconds? I need to think.” He looks taken aback, “Excuse me?” He gives you a pointed look, warning lacing his words. You don’t back down, your dreams are imploding in on themself and he’s worried about smoking in a soon to be condemned building.
He steps closer, “I said, “can you fuck–” “Sorry, Officer, you’ve just got to excuse her.” Rita is quick to interrupt, herding you towards the open door. You’ll remember his face, drain him of his blood when he least expects it. You make it a promise to yourself. “She’s just a little worried about losing her job.” The man calms down, his hand moving from his holster. So trigger happy. “Get her under control.” Is all he says before returning back to his squad to swing his dick around and do virtually nothing but supervise. Asshole.
A puff of smoke leaves your lips when your body hits the warm breeze, the cancer stick still stuck safely between your fingers. You try to hold back tears, the bloody ones that use what your body runs on as a means of self soothing. That would be weird, bloody tears coating your skin as Rita wonders what kind of condition could cause that, calling an ambulance and having them haul you off for treatment. No, no job was worth that headache. So, you put your head in your hands and smoked your cigarette till your mind stopped racing.
“What the hell am I gonna do?” You say it more so to yourself, but Rita stands there in contemplation. She takes a drag of her own cigarette. She truly does care for you, enough so that seeing you look so defeated eats at her leaving behind an awful pain. “Look, I got a friend who owns a legit little gay bar off the corner of 7th street, I can call in a favor.” Your head raises in hope, your eyes carrying that sparkle that Ellie believed was truly only for her. “Really?” You're on your feet too quickly to be humanly possible, Rita doesn’t notice. “I’m not certain if they can take on another bartender, but I can certainly ask. In the meantime, I’ll ask some of my friends if they need a babysitter.”
“I love you so much, Rita! Thank you, thank you,” Your arms wrap around her plump form, pulling her close in your crushing grip, thank you’s still falling from your cig burned lips. She taps you once her lungs feel as though they’ve begun to touch in an unnatural way, the air leaving her organs and her vision going spotty. “Doll…” It’s choked, yet enough to get you to remember who–what you are.
“Sorry.” You let her go, and bid her a farewell as she watches you strut down the sidewalk.
You want to say that it all became better after that, that the uncertainty didn’t ruin your mood completely and that you weren’t secretly running at super speed into the woods just so you could punch a rock–but you would be lying. You needed some sort of release, something to ease the crushing financial weight that burdens you–and if that release came in the form of breaking open rocks and trees using your superstrength then so be it. Had you always been this…aggressive while you were alive?
You were angry, that's all. It frustrated you, how someone could just decide to take away jobs from multiple different people simply because of their bosses bad business practices. None of that had anything to do with the employees, the employees who would need to find new employment at a moment's notice thanks to the justice system–who moved at the pace of a snail.
The gay bar job felt tainted, what if Rita couldn't pull any strings? What would happen to you and Mika? You seriously couldn’t survive off of Dina and Jesse’s babysitting gigs, sure they were nice for grocery money but your rent was 900$ by itself, then your student loans that stole money from your account at random times, the expenses that popped up randomly while you pretended to be human, it was all too fucking much.
Your phone rang just as you were about to let the frustrated crimson tears flow freely down your face and mess up the perfectly done makeup that was glued to your skin. Jesse. His name is bold at the top of your cell, no profile picture as this was simply business–no matter how cool he may be. “Hey.” Your voice cracks slightly as you swallow the thick smoke of the brand new cig that has been put up for sacrifice. “Hey, it's Jesse. Like Dina and Jesse? Um, can you come over and watch JJ? Ellie has a class I think and I just got called into work.”
You contemplate telling him that today wasn’t a good day, your body needing time to recover from your early morning class and losing your main source of income. Still, after losing the job that paid you a decent salary, you couldn’t be picky on jobs. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in about two hours, I’m pretty far.” You looked around the wooded area, truthfully, you could be there in about 5 minutes if you were really determined–but you needed time to get a blood bag from home and your ceremonious slushie that has become a staple for you.
“Yeah,okay, no problem, Ellie doesn’t have to leave for a while so take your time. Uh, not too much time, hehe.” He doesn’t sound certain about his information on Ellie, probably hadn’t even asked her yet. Typical. You hang up after that, throw your cigarette into the ground and stamp it out with all the rage that consumes you, all the pain that flows through you yet cannot be properly regulated. That was for weak humans, of which you were not.
By the time you show up–only an hour and thirty minutes later–Ellie has already decided that she won't be attending class today, she knows(she's hoping) that you’ll be too heartbroken over the information that claws at her throat to push itself out to want to be left alone. You enter using the key that Jesse gave you a week or two ago, no longer having to wait for someone to open the door for you– this was their way of inviting you in and allowing you to make yourself at home.
Her head snaps towards the door instantly , like Ellie’s eyes were hungrily awaiting your arrival, begging to gaze upon your beauty once more. It's not too far from the truth.
“Hey.” You throw, lazy and uninterested, the mood you were in barely shaken even though you keep telling yourself to be fucking normal. What even is your new normal? Whatever.
Ellie notices, doesn't address it, but stores the thought in her brain. “Sup.” She coughs back, she tries to contain her excitement and give you the same energy, she fails of course. “Why are you so giddy?” It's then that she–and you–fully notice the outfit that clings to your perfumed skin. That damned black short skirt and a sports tee that's cropped in the worst way while having such a deep v that it practically pushes your boobs on display.
“Can babysitters wear that kinda thing?” She asks, eyes barely pulling themselves away from your cleavage . If this was any other day, you would have written it off and teased her about keeping her gorgeous green leaning hazel eyes away from your boobs, but today was Tuesday and Tuesdays sucked.
“I just lost my fucking job, Ellie.” You snap, practically fuming and throw yourself onto the couch face first. Ellie wills herself hard not to stare at the exposed lace of your panties–so she flops onto the floor, her tailbone crashing against the hardwood hastily.
You lay there for a moment, breathing deeply while Ellie tries to decide on a next course of action. You feel the warmth of her hand caressing small circles on your lower back, the feeling so familiar and so warm, like something you lost years ago. Your ears can hear the way her heart pumps against her ribcage, how her mind races against itself to find the right time to tell you…something.
She doesn't say. You're quiet for what feels like hours just to hear what this something might be, but it never surfaces.
“How'd you lose your job? Is it because of..you know–the outfit?” Her fingers are calloused yet oddly softer than you thought they would have been, several metal rings decorated the skin of her digits, the graphite from earlier still coating them. “Believe it or not, this is my uniform.” Your voice is laced with a half joke and a small smile.
“Jesus, where the fuck did you work? A strip bar?” It comes out too quickly for her to stop herself from letting it slip, her eyes widening as you giggle, body slightly bouncing as you laugh at her misfortune. She starts to stumble, to stammer out apologies that barely make a lick of sense. “Fuck, wait–okay, its not like I think you're a stripper!...not–not like there's anything wrong with that! I think you look wonderful! Shit, not like that–” You quirk an eyebrow, “Well, not–not like that.” Her mossy colored eyes fall on you, blush instantly drowning her freckles in its deep red ocean.
“You're enjoying this.” Her caramelized voice drips with realization, you smile sharp, canines on full display. “Maybe.” You shrug as she rolls her eyes at you, a smile of her own on her face.
She's silent, staring at you while you smirk at her from your position on the couch, the heat from her hand never leaving your lower back–not like she wanted it to. Your skin feels interesting, supple yet concrete. Your body felt real beneath her fingertips, no feeling of a heartbeat or the pump of blood through your system , and you were colder than humanly possible, but, you were real.
Real enough that she had dedicated a journal to you. So real, and yet you couldn't share the biggest part of you with the person you sleep with occasionally. Why would you hide such a large part of yourself? “What’re you thinking about Williams?” Her brain fills, spewing nonsensical thoughts as she keeps her eyes on you.
Your gaze holds hers, her grip on your lower back tightening slightly. It’s…electric. Your senses burn from the touch, her hand fits perfectly into the grooves on your back, even when it twitches slightly it feels natural–like it's meant to be there. “Do you know that Abby is a vampire hunter?”
It slips, more so it drags itself out of her throat, fierce and sharp. Her mind couldn’t waste anymore time on pleasantries, no more cat and mouse about something that could possibly save you. You stare at her for a few seconds, and Ellie can see the way that the gears turn in your head–processing the information slowly but surely.
Your eyes dart around the floor, jumping from JJ to the remote, then to her face. You look so intensely at her, like you were exploding her head in your own mind.
“What?” Your eyes narrow, “I saw her coming back home covered in blood with stakes on her back. I didn't have your number so..” She trails off, eyes shifting everywhere but your face. To her surprise instead of tears like she expected, you laughed. A chuckle leaving your body, it jolts under her touch.
“You, you're so jealous, it's almost cute.” You prop yourself up onto your forearms, your head resting in your palm.
Ellie's brows stitch together. “What?” Her hand retracts from your back, this isn't how she thought this would go at all. “You heard me. You hate me dating Abby that much that you’d make up a lie to get me away from her? Honestly, kinda flattered.” You're speaking but Ellie definitely isn't listening.
She's checked out, brows furrowed and mouth hanging agape. Her? Jealous? What were you on about? “You think I’m jealous of Abby Dickhead Anderson?” Her voice is laced with the undertones of jealousy, embarrassment and pure bewilderment. How could you think she would ever lie to get you away from Abby? She couldn't give a single shit about you and Abby's relationship.
“Well, you've been acting weird since she and I started dating. And you've been, like, really short with me. It adds up.” You shrug as though it were obvious, but it wasn't— not to Ellie at least.
“She dead ass is, I saw it with my own fucking eyes.” She points to her glasses, fingers thrusting with so much rage. Conveniently she ignores the part of her being cold, she has no rebuttal for that. It’s true, in the worst way possible. When she first found out Ellie can admit that it rubbed her the wrong way, and instead of ignoring it harder she started to pull away from you, killing your blossoming friendship. But this wasn’t about friendship to her, you had a right to know that at any moment, Abby could stake you and your afterlife would end before she even got the courage to make a move. Your safety is paramount.
“Please, Els, jealousy isn't a good look on you.” Your voice is so syrupy while you tease her, pushing buttons she had no idea were there. “I’m just trying to be a good friend.” Her eyes turn slitted, your own, a carbon copy. “When have we ever been friends, Ellie?” It’s a gut punch of realization. You both technically weren’t close, you weren’t friends, you were two strangers who interacted whenever you had to work for her roommates.How could she allow herself to be so fucking deluded? Of course you didn’t view her as a friend, she iced you out for most of your last shift.
“I thought we were.” Her voice is quiet, the deep green pools of her eyes staring at the array of different bracelets and arm bands that decorated her skin. “You were so mean to me.” Your head turned to the side away from her, your voice muffled while she still kept her hand touching your skin. It feels safer, comfortable, like she's keeping you grounded–maybe even keeping herself composed.
She still sits crisscrossed on the hardwood, eyes darting to JJ who bounces in his bouncer, a bowl full of cheerios overturned in his lap. Ellie admired how oblivious the baby boy is, how he had no idea that his babysitter was a vampiric beauty that entranced his pseudo aunt.
“I didn't–” She begins, unable to hold her own against the way you gaze at her through your eyelids. “Fuck, not everyone is in love with you.” She spits in such a nasty tone that it catches you off guard, your eyes widening slightly–only for a second. Ellie doesn't know why she says it, and can't grasp her own complete 360–but it hangs in the air like noxious gas, suffocating and toxic.
You recover rather quickly, your plump lips falling back into their natural half smirk as you work up a rebuttal. “But, you are, aren't you?” There goes that sparkle that fills your eyes whenever you're near her, bright and shining, it makes her wonder why she ever opened her mouth to begin with. You sit up, body straight and cunning, your eyes hyperfocused on the auburnette in front of you.
You can hear her swallow–hard, enough for you to watch her cheeks start to swim in that crimson sea that washes over her face. It's not enough for you though, your body willing her onto her back, pressing her against the coldness of the wooden floor. Every nerve inside of her is alive, her body becoming hyperaware of your strength–and how close you now are to her.
“You wanna be friends with me, Ellie?” Your face is so close to hers, your eyes half lidded and your voice is so silky smooth, it sends shivers down her spine. “Mhm.” Her face is hot, too hot. You can feel the heat radiating off of her, hear the way her blood pumps steadily beneath her skin while her heart goes wild, thumping faster than even she could comprehend.
Your head dips to her ear, your back arching slightly. She tries and fails to keep her eyes off the round shape of your ass, the way it jiggles just a bit at the sudden flex. “Then, we can be friends.” Your breath is a cold breeze against her ear, your left arm trailing up and down her arm in feather-like touches.
Ellie hates how easily she falls into your trap, her thighs spreading open slightly as if silently begging you to touch her in those naughty ways. “You're driving me crazy.” She confesses, her eyes closed tightly, her fist balled up on the side of her. You don't answer her, nor do you acknowledge the sounds of her going back and forth in her own mind on whether she wants to cross this line with you (she does).
You lean closer, so close that she can smell the sticky sweet scent of cherry slushie mixed with the copperish scent of blood. “Good.” Is all you manage out before pulling away quickly, sitting up between her thighs.
“Are you always this easy, or is it just for me?” You watch as her face burns with embarrassment, her mind flooded with things that she would never admit outloud. “Fuck you.” She's up in seconds, pushing you off of her and walking stiffly back to her room. You fly close behind her, drifting on the air with carefree ease. “Ellie! What's wrong, I thought we were getting to know each other.” There’s a sly smile on your face and a giddiness to your voice, much to Ellie’s annoyance.
The door slams in your face as Ellie tries to calm the pounding of her heart. Fuck you, and those beautiful eyes and that flirtatious smile, and your addictive scent, and the snort of your laugh. Fuck it all. Was it deflection or just the way you act naturally? Do you like to see her all worked up to the point of almost bursting a blood vessel? What will you both do about Abby?
Eight pm rolls around and Ellie stays in her room fighting against herself while you await the timely arrival of Dina and Jesse, the sound of their keys jiggling filling your ears.
It's become your routine by now to have JJ in his plastic crib, on his back holding that stuffed lamb, a lullaby singing in his small ears. It feels good to help out where you could, a part of you felt bad for Dina and Jesse–living in a small apartment with a roommate and a baby while also juggling their careers, it seemed rough. At least putting JJ down for the night would leave one less thing for them to do.
You do the usual song and dance–thank you’s and payment being shared as Dina takes in your outfit. She doesn’t say anything about it, just ignores the questions that fill her mind.
The door shuts and locks behind you as your booted heels touch the carpet of the outside hallway. Everything is so silent, the wind and wildlife seem to take a few minutes to catch their breath, keeping everything still.
You, on the other hand, are hunting. You're slinking towards the metal door that hides your prey. She doesn't know you're coming, and she has no idea how you plan to devour her, bit by bit, piece by methodically displaced piece. It’s not long before you’re at her door, slightly panting against the metal as your finger touches the cold button of her doorbell. One push, the sound rings throughout her apartment, and Abby stares at the door confused. Dressed in nothing but a silk tank top and her boy shorts that clung to every possible curve of her muscular body, her blonde hair finally left untouched and allowed to flow freely.
Even from behind the door you can smell the sugary cinnamon of her blood, it beckons you–taunts you from beyond her flesh, asks you to try and take a bite. Abby’s up in seconds, glasses fallen to the tip of her nose and her book now forgotten on the chair she was sitting in, her expression hardened from the intrusion, her voice readying itself to curse whoever laid behind her door, until she saw it was you.
Gorgeous, half naked, you. Leant against her doorframe like you owned her door, owned what hides inside it.
“Hi Abs.” Your voice comes out breathless like you had just run from wherever required you to wear an outfit like that. Sky blue eyes scanned your body, drinking in the sight of your skin on display. “What’s with the outfit?”
“You don’t like it?” You hold her gaze with a fire behind them, a challenge waiting for her to snatch it. “I never said that.” Abby leans against the doorway, strong arms that you want to crush you folded against her breasts. “How about: you invite me in,” You run the nail of your finger along a bulging vein, “and then, I’ll let you take it off me.” You gaze up at her with those big doe eyes that draw Abby in, that sparkle that you seem to give everyone glinting and gleaming in your eyes.
You trail your finger to her chest as she stands there in silent contemplation, her eyes tracing over every part of you, scanning you with the most evil intentions you had ever heard come from someone else's mind. She wanted you. “Shit, get in here.” Abby grips your arm, tugging you into her apartment with such force that you fall into her stiff chest. Her arms wrap around you, her large hand coming to cradle the back of your head while her lips devour your own. You try your best to hold your own, push back when she tries to dominate you, it’s futile still you don't stop, you can't stop.Not when she suckles on your tongue just enough to pull a whimper from your lips and not when her tongue wraps around yours in the fight for dominance, clashing against your teeth and licking at the gumminess of your cheek.
Abby is too brazen with her assault, it succeeds in making you forget yourself and grind hungrily against her thigh, your jeaned heat chafing her skin while you desperately try to satisfy yourself. Your body can’t help the way it reacts, all human decency flying out the window the moment you awoke from your comatose. She mumbles something at you, “Calm down, pretty girl.” But you ignore it in favor of taking what you want from her.
You suck on her bottom lip, the slow groans that fall from her intoxicating you. You pull away from her, and for a second her face morphs into something like confusion, but she doesn’t wear it for long because you are pushing her back with too much force for a girl your size. She falls back into her reading chair, her back hitting the backrest hard enough to knock the wind out of her. Azure eyes are glued to you while she slowly works out her suspicions, the brute strength that you possess, it makes her wonder what you truly are.
You’re between her legs before she can finish the thought, head resting against the muscularity of her thigh. “Is this what you wear to bed?” You ask her, running your nail against her the heat that laid just beneath the front of her boy shorts. Abby gulps hard, swallowing the intensity of the emotions that you’ve forced her to feel.
“Do you not like it?” She sounds uncertain of her own question, and also like she might lose her mind at the thought of you touching her, and the feeling of your breath against her skin. You hum as you move the cloth of her panties to the side, “I adore it, you look so cute.” You give her slit an experimental lick, enough to elicit a moan out of her, her hands gripping the arm rest of her chair. “Christ, that feels good.” Abby’s head falls back, the loose tendrils of her hair falling into her face.
Her thighs clench when you wrap your lips around her clit and your fingers find their way to the puckering hole of her cunt, plunging one finger into her awaiting pussy. “ W-wait.” Abby bucks against you, your fingers curling up into her as you try your best to keep yourself steady, you want to bite her, want to lap at the sugary taste that courses through her veins. It takes everything in you to resist, and you're not good at controlling yourself–evidenced by the way you greedily fuck her with your fingers, watching with pure amazement as pleas fall from her soft lips. You run your teeth against the honey of her skin, sucking hickies into her thighs. You don’t realize how close you’re getting to biting her, how your teeth beg to get a taste of the sweetness that courses through her.
Your fangs extend–too fast for you to stop it, the feeling lingering long enough for her to feel the pressure of their enamel. Quickly, she’s pulling away from you, hand going to push on your forehead, forcing your head back at break-neck speeds. “What the fuck did you just do?” You're farther from the position you started in, your neck should hurt from how far she's braced your head back–but it doesn't, still you mumble a small “ow”.
Always make it seem normal.
“Shit,sorry, I-I thought…” You trail off, your pupils are dilated, staring at Abby in a mix of bloodlust and attraction. “Did you try to fucking bite me?” Her eyes narrow, her boy shorts snapping back into place as she's on her feet, her voice is low, too low for the situation. “Yeah, I should've asked.” You're still on your ass, stuck to the hardwood in shock and embarrassment.
“Your teeth are sharp–like really sharp.” A mumble that barely goes above a whisper, the alarm bells blaring inside the confines of your own brain. There's no way jealous Ellie could've been right, it just had to be a trick of her anxiety. Right? “I mean, I guess.” Your body reacts differently, trying desperately to play the situation off with nonchalance.
It doesn't work. Abby stares you down, her face slightly flushed while her brain works a mile a minute. Every thought she had kept reaching the same conclusion. You were a vampire, a nightwalker with a lust for human blood. Her gaze turns from confusion to alert in a moment, her blue eyes swimming with suspicion. Your non-beating heart tugs and pulls, it feigns a harsh beat as Abby stares at you.
“Did…did I ruin the moment?” Your voice rises barely above the world's quietest octave while she stares daggers at your form. Your own mind racing, ‘she knows, she knows, she knows’ repeating over and over in your head. “I just need a second.” Abby gets up, making her way all the way to her bathroom, while you run fingers across the pockets of your shorts. You’re craving a cigarette, craving the apprehension releasing nicotine high that came with it.
Your hand grasps at the pack, it is now empty from the stressful day you had. A string of silent curses leave your kiss plump lips as you stand to your feet, looking around the room to find something to calm yourself down. You can hear the water running from Abby’s bathroom, the tap only adding to your anxiety. All you need is confirmation–something to prove Ellie right, even though you would rather step out into the sun without sunscreen and let it cook you alive than admit that she was right in any way.
Why search for a problem? To you, it was more like searching for answers, maybe soothe the paranoia that riddles you since your conversation with Ellie.
There's a deep scent of copper that engulfs your senses. Has it been there before? You didn’t notice, too busy indulging in the cologne of Abby’s sweet smelling blood. You search the apartment, feet barely grazing the floor as you float to avoid your footsteps alerting Abby to your movements. Your body moves fast, zooming in ways that should never be possible as you go through every locked door, nose pointed to the air like a human bloodhound.
It’s not long until you find… it, hidden behind a false wall in the back of the closet in her hallway–a small door leading to what you could only assume was a base, the fake wall still slightly ajar but disguised by thick winter coats and a line up of boots, the inside held different dioramas of vampire anatomy, wooden stakes along with a weakness board blue tacked onto one of the adjoining walls. Everything’s filled with too much detail for someone with a slight fascination, she meant business.
If you weren't so terrified, you could be impressed by her dedication, every single item placed meticulously for her viewing pleasure, a small table housed various sized beakers with what you could only assume were filled with different potencies of holy water, the blessed bottle standing proud against the harsh metal. As if it couldn’t get worse your eyes gravitate back to the wooden stakes, an uneasy look gracing your features before being overtaken by shock and grief. The stakes that you glanced over are covered in the dried blood of your species, hung off the top of the wall like trophies, each one decorated in blood splatter.
It makes you sick. You're wordless as you close the door, fully rattled and shaken down to your bones. Your mind runs through scenario after bloody scenario and yet cannot find a reason for her vampire serial killer actions that soothes you. You have to act fast, you know she’s suspicious of you, and honestly you haven’t been the best at keeping this secret, so you do what you do best: deflect and hope she isn’t smart enough to catch on.
You return back to your position speedily, knees hugged to your chest as you fight with yourself about your decision. You really like Abby, saw something that could blossom into full on love if nurtured properly, but she’s ruthless and won’t hesitate to put one of her “trophies” through your heart while dousing you in blessed water. While you contemplate all the choices that led you to sitting on a vampire hunter's floor, Abby stares at her reflection in the bathroom, the faucet drowning out the way her thoughts slip audibly from her lips from time to time.
“If she was a vampire, why would she come here?” She mumbles to herself, pacing back and forth in her small washroom, while chewing on the skin of her thumb in thought. You had to be stupid–if you were a vampire–or maybe you had no idea that there were vampire hunters. Could've just been turned and are still figuring yourself out, that’s probably why you act so strange.
It’s a shame really, Abby really does like you. She finds your clinginess adorable and likes talking to you and if the way you worked her over a few moments ago was anything to go by, you were amazing with your hands. But, you tried to bite her–if you were a vampire–and that is unacceptable. If you were still a fledgling she could probably start you on a diet of animal blood, turn you off of human blood for eternity and Abby would just keep quiet about your vampiric abilities to her family and friends.
The coolness of the water prickles against her skin as she splashes it onto the burn of her cheeks. She tells herself to get a grip, betraying her family and friends over a girl she just met will never happen. But, she’s never had anyone close to her turn or be a full vampire, she has no way to handle these conflicting emotions. It’s too much. In a split second decision she decides to just ignore it, you could be a vampire, you could not, who cares? Unless you kill or admit it to her, she’ll just act like it doesn’t exist. Blissful ignorance. Great plan.
“Abigail, can you come here, please?” Her head snaps up, her heartbeat increasing at the mention of her full name, brows stitched together as she turns off the sink. “Uh, what for?” Abby’s voice quivers for just a second, hands rubbing along the fluffy fabric of her face towel.
“I need to talk to you.” Of course she assumes the worst, and her mind starts to plan out how to kill you if need be. This is not comforting to hear on your part. The way she imagines slamming your less muscular form through her glass coffee table, and while you try to recover slitting your throat with a glass shard, only furthers the fact that you have to do this, even if she fights with those thoughts internally, trying to convince herself that you’re just a normal girl who happens to be a nightowl.
Abby stares at you while you move away from the glass coffee table that you were seated close to, almost as if you were afraid of it, like you could read her mind. “Look, I’m sorry about pushing you, I just have a thing about biting and–” “I’m seeing someone else.” It comes out jumbled, and you both speak over each other, still Abby stares at you in disbelief once the sentence leaves your lips.
Now, Abby is extremely secure in herself, but again–she has started to form a certain liking towards you and she thought you were both monogamous, yet here you are in her sacred place telling her that you have another lover. “What?” Her voice low, her eyes narrowed as she looks down at you, her head tilted slightly forward so she’s in your space. It’s an intimidation tactic she learned from her grandfather, and it works in shaking you slightly. You let a breath fall from your mouth, using what little resistance you had to push your words out quickly,
“Yeah, I’m seeing someone else and it’s getting serious with her. I wanted this to be kinda like goodbye sex? Whatever. I just wanted to end things on a high note, I guess.” You stay even, keeping your composure as Abby stares at you with that stoicism that hides her true feelings. In her head, she was fuming, calling you all types names that weren’t in the bible, but in person she stood over you with her arms folded against her silk covered chest.
“So what, you were just using me for my body?” She asks, oceanic eyes sending daggers your way, you shift removing your eyes from her own. “I mean, you have a pretty nice body.” You give a shrug and a dry chuckle, none of this is amusing to Abby, who inches closer to you. You scramble to your feet, taking a few steps away from her.
“What’re you scared of?” She still stalks towards you, “And your stupid joke wasn’t funny.” you keep backing away from her, eyes darting towards the closet behind her. “I don’t know, I thought it was kinda funny.” You look back at her, meeting her intense gaze for a few seconds. “Whose the girl?”
“You don’t wanna know that.” You wave her off mostly because the girl doesn’t exist and you have always been terrible at making up names, constantly naming everything that needed one giggles, cute when you were a kid, not so cute in a life or death situation. “Oh, but I really do.” Abby presses you into the wall, watching as you try to shrink yourself to get away from her bulky figure. “Your neighbor that I babysit for–” “You’re fucking Dina?” Abby's face morphs into confusion and disgust, the questions begin to gather in her throat, but before she can push them out you shake your head.
As much as you want to get out of this situation alive, you couldn’t put Dina into this situation, that and what if she told Jesse that Dina was cheating on him with the babysitter, talk about role reversal. Abby takes a second, really goes through the members of that apartment before landing on the green eyed nuisance that smokes such pungent weed that it follows her wherever she goes, the astrophysicists in training that survives off energy drinks and chai lattes, the masc lesbian whose wrists are always decorated in black banded bracelets and the bitch who saw her coming home after a hunt covered in sticky vampire blood. “You’re fucking Ellie Williams?”
“Yup.” It was no problem to drag Ellie under the bus with you, she had nothing to lose anyway. “You’re fucking kidding me, there’s no way you picked that drugged out loser over me.” Suddenly, you felt very protective of your faux girlfriend, “Don’t talk about her like that, you don’t know shit about her!” You press your chest against hers, forcing her back slightly. There’s a new found confidence in your words, a need to make this believable and a small superiority to Abby flowing through you.
Only you got to make fun of Ellie.
“I think I know enough, I live next to her–” She starts before getting interrupted by you, “You’re a dickhead Anderson.” You spit back at her, moving around her to grab your stuff in a huff. “Me?!” She follows behind you, rage seeping from every pore, “I’m not the one who hid a whole relationship! If things were so serious with Williams, why are you trying to fuck me ?!” Abby yells back at you, watching as your hand grasps the knob of her door. “I knew you would react like this, you’re so immature.” You look back at her with fake annoyance, all of it a facade that slowly chips away at your heart. “Wha–you’re younger than me !” Her hands are in the air in the most emotion you’ve ever seen from her.
You don’t reply, just look back at her one more time before leaving her to stare at the wooden door, body warm with rage and discomfort, her mind bullying her for her softness.
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦ ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦
The door clicks behind you, forcing you back into the silence of the apartment’s hallway. Everything today has just been too much, you lost your main source of income, you lost a budding relationship and now you had to go home while carrying all of that weight on your back. You don’t think you’re strong enough to do it, can’t spend another night alone in the quiet of your apartment, watching as your cat pats away at your blankets to make herself comfortable. You’re out of cigarettes and have no energy to zip down to 7/11 even though it’s on your way home. There’s no energy to expend on being human, today's human activities have left you spent and dreading your own immortality.
Your legs carry you outside, over to the side of the apartment building and up to the sixth floor, you crawl alongside it, searching for something—someone. It doesn’t register how odd this may be, your emotions are too high and your lungs burn for a release of all these negative emotions, but you’re out of cigarettes, so she’s the next best thing. You finally find her window, attached to a fire escape and illuminated by the glow of her small tv. You press your face gently against the coldness of the window glass, peering into her life.
Ellie lays spread out across her twin sized mattress, her tattooed arm hanging off the bed while her covers barely do their appointed jobs. Dressed in nothing but a graphic tee with an alien superimposed onto it and a pair of plaid boxers, she looks so peaceful, her mouth hung open and her glasses still pressed to her face. She clearly fell asleep watching space documentaries, probably doing research. You find the whole scene endearing, the once locked room now being on full display for you.
You knock on the window, desperate to get inside the warmth, your mind only worried about being comforted through your time of need. Would she find this strange? She knew of your secret so hopefully not, but you both just “rekindled” your friendship, this might be too much to ask of the auburnette.
You knock again, more force behind it this time, observing as she stirs in her sleep, grasping at the covers to pull over her head and drown out the noise. Another knock and she’s kicking them back off, trudging to her door while rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Her back to you as she opens the wood, no one behind it like she expected. She turns back around, confusion lacing her sleep drowned features, looking for the source of knocking before landing on the window.
You give her a small smile and a curt wave, not having enough energy to be playful tonight. She shuffles over to you, heaving the window pane open as she allows you and the cold of the night into her room. “Why the hell are you here?” Ellie’s voice is raspy with sleep and whiny with annoyance. It’s kind of sexy.
“You were right about Abby.” Her eyes fly open at your admittance, scanning your whole body for any sign that this was a joke, she doesn’t find one–just you rocking on the balls of your feet as you look everywhere but at her. “Really?” Her voice laced with disbelief, “Yes, yes, you were right I was wrong, blah blah blah. Let’s move the fuck on alright?”
“Jesus, what's stuck up your ass?” One pierced eyebrow raised as she looked at you up and down, “I had to break up with her.” You sigh plopping onto her bed, back falling into a row of plush soft stuffed animals. Ellie mentally curses herself for being so lame and having them safely tucked in on her bed. Her heart almost drops as you pick up her favorite one–a stuffed green triceratops that Joel got her when she was younger–tugging it into your arms to hold.
It isn’t enough to calm you though, so you tuck it back into the side of the bed, throwing your arm over your face. “Wow. Must’ve been hard to let go of your buff asshole girlfriend.” Your hand flops off your face, your eyes glaring at the auburn headed asshole who smirks at you. “Fuck you.” You bite at her, “You wish.” She replies, still smirking, still using those hazel green pools to hold your attention. “I’d rather die again.”
She stares at you, the burn of her gaze causing you to swallow the breath trapped in your throat. You both sit in that silence for a few moments, neither being able to decide whether it's awkward or not. “Seriously though, I’m sorry about Anderson, I know how much you liked her. Don't know why, that girl sucks.” Ellie's eyes no longer hold yours hostage, instead they trace her figures that are positioned on her nightstand.
“Why do you hate her so much?” You sit up on your forearms as Ellie sits on her desk chair, backwards so you think she's cool–a futile attempt. “She's a narc…and a bitch. She snitched on me and Dina for smoking weed when we first moved in, haven't forgave her since.” A freckled hand goes to play with the fraying edges of the chairs back, tugging on the microfiber as she recounts past events.
“Wow…what an awful reason.” Her head shoots up, reddish brown locks bouncing as she furrows her brows at you, “What?” “No like, I guess I get it. But, I don't know–hating someone that much over something like that is kinda crazy.” Your shoulders shrug, Ellie looks ready to defend herself but a small part of her knows you're right. It's a petty reason, she can admit that much, but it's her reason and she's sticking to it.
“I mean I’ve smelled your weed dude, it's like really strong. Plus, Abby’s like really straight laced–of course she'll be pissed if her apartment smells like weed.”
“Okay, please shut the fuck up before I kick you out.” Her fingers are at her temple, rubbing tiny controlled circles to calm her nerves. “You're just mad that I’m right.” You throw a stuffed animal at her, it bouncing off the back of the chair. Her inked left arm goes to pick it up, a “Whatever you say, darlin’” falling from her chapped lips as she picks up the stuffed toy.
It's southern in nature, slightly drawled with a touch of her own accent on it. The sentence stirs something sinister beneath your skin–deep in the pit of your stomach where you hide your deepest desires. It scrambles your brain for a second, a heat rising towards your cheeks.
“Is that all you came for? To talk about Abby and leave?” She finally asks, abandoning her post on the chair to walk towards the mattress, one hand under her shirt while she yawns big. “Can I stay here?...Just for tonight–I can't be alone right now.” Ellie stands there for a second too many, she looks surprised, yet conflicted, too many emotions flashing between her eyes to narrow it down to just one.
Her mind isn't silent either, it zips and zooms through its own thoughts as if it were a race track.
“Sure.” She decides, though the red that coats her cheeks grows darker by the second, even illuminated only by the blue haze of the documentary on her TV, the reds potency stands proud.
“You can uh, sleep next to me–o-only i-if you're cool with that.” 24 years old and she has yet to grow out of her awkwardness, with how many times she's been “alone with a girl” (a whopping six times) you would think the idea of a friend sharing her bed wouldn't cause this large of a reaction. But it does, she crawls into bed while you stay laid out on top of her covers, “G’night.” The words rush out hastily, as she rolls over, pulling what little sheet space she does have over her head.
“Yeah, wassup?” Ellie peeks her head over her shoulder, your giggles barely being contained, “Um, I need clothes to change into, please.” You smile at her, the twinkle that she was sure was lost flying right back into your eye.
She would never admit that she missed it, even though the dullness of your eyes tugged at one of the strings of her heart.
“Shit–right.” Ellie's out the bed in milliseconds, rushing to her drawer to pull out an oversized t-shirt. “You need bottoms?” The shirt catches on your extended leg, hanging lifelessly as it dangles there. Ellie slowly rises to full height, your hand snatching up the bundle of fabric. “I think I’m okay.” You grasp at the bottoms of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head.
Ellie watches you, eyes trained on every movement of your muscle, the way your press on fitted nails hook gently on the fabric, the slight shine from the blue lace of your bra. When she spots the tufts of your hair falling out of the head hole of your jersey she quickly removes her eyes, clapping a scarred hand over her face. “Bro, change in the bathroom or something.” Her voice is filled with embarrassment and annoyance, her thoughts however undress you to your core, asking questions she doesn't know if she wants the answer to.
“What are you, a teenage boy?” Her hand remains, no words leaving her mouth as the heat sinks lower–deeper into her gut. “mmcht, whatever. You're so immature.” You stick your tongue out to her as you slink into a corner in her room, Ellie's fingers parting slightly to assess your position, “God forbid I don't wanna see your bra.” Ellie's emerald colored eyes roll over in her skull.
“You know you're loving having a pretty girl in your room,” Your back is turned to her, her stare lingering too long on the stretch marks that flow along your skin, “Let me know when the pretty girl gets here.” Her voice quips as the large shirt finally falls just below the start of your thighs, the fabric feels airy and is slightly figure hugging, you don’t mind. “You’re such an asshole.” You remark back as you crawl into the corner of her bed, stuffed between a line up of stuffed animals and pillows.
Ellie stands there still staring at you while you make yourself comfortable in her bed, “And where am I going to sleep?” Her freckled arms folded as one pierced eyebrow raises. “In the bed?” Her sheets smell like her musk and sweat, adding to the feeling of this all being too much Ellie at once. Did you mind it?
“I don't know if I’m comfortable with-” She starts, going to grab a pillow to presumably sleep on the living room couch. “Stop being weird, we're friends aren't we? Friends share things.” You deliver a strong tug to her arm, watching as she loses her balance and falls face first into the softness of her sheets.
It's not like she minds sharing a bed with you, she's been sharing beds since childhood–it's the fact that it's you. You're stinking up her clothes with the scent of sex and anxiety, you're playing with the horns of her favorite stuffed animal, you're demanding that she gives you her body heat by sleeping next to you–all while she allows you to without any repercussions.
“You're really entitled, you know that?” An inside thought that slips from her lips as she sits up on her hands, veins bulging as she grips her bed slightly harder than she means to. Still, it causes you pause, another outburst that makes you wonder whether or not you can bully Ellie as easily as you once thought.
She seemed too nerdy to stand up for herself before, instead retreating to her room when things got too intense, but now–she’s staring at you with such a bored expression, her brain not easy to read at all. It makes you retreat slightly, your persona faltering just enough for her to get a glimpse of the other you—the human you.
“Shit, am I? I didn’t mean to be, I can go sleep on the couch.” You grab a pillow and are on your knees scooting off the bed before she can answer, only to be tugged by the hem of her oversized sleep shirt. “I’m fucking with you.” She smirks, flopping onto her side of the bed, pulling the covers over the lower half of her body. “I really believed you! Last time I’m ever nice to you.” You return to your original position, tongue out while Ellie’s arms go behind her head. “Good to know you have a soft side, though.”
Your eyes narrow at her, your body turns to face her, your nose filling with the scent of her body—of her blood. You never noticed how heavy the scent was, your mind consumed only with the blood that filled your slushie cups and the dream of being able to sample the sugar of Abby’s metallic goodness.
It smells so familiar, like a home cooked meal that took hours to prepare, rich and meaty and very savory. You scan her, starting from the top of her head at the tussle of brownish red hair that sticks to her forehead from the room’s heat, then to the piercing in her eyebrow that glints under the glow of the long forgotten space documentary, next to her mossy green eyes that stare off into the vastness of nothing, they flow to her chapped yet kissably plump lips that her tongue darts out to lick.
And finally–without your permission–they fall on her neck, watching as her veins pulse with the red liquid you survived on. It’s only then that you realize just how hungry you were, not famished but definitely starved. You’re staring too hard at her, chest rising and falling as you begin to pant, your hunger growing stronger by the second. Ellie notices, giving you a puzzled look as you continue to memorize the path of her system, where the blood flows most and secretly plan out which vein would be your victim.
“Hey, are you okay?” Concern laces her raspy voice and it pulls you out of your trance, the heels of your hands digging deep into your eyes as you turn over in one swift movement. “I need a blood bag, I’m fucking starving.”
Your admittance is enough to have her climb out of bed, go into your purse without prompting and find the bag of blood that you had left with. “Do you need a cup?” She asks, already heading for the door. You had no intention of asking her to do it for you, hell you didn’t need to, already up on her feet twisting the door knob and heading into the kitchen.
Would it be weird to say that it filled your heart? After your dad’s death you were used to being extremely independent, the type of self reliance that no 12 year old should have. Minutes later Ellie returns with a throw away cup filled with your newest food craving. She hands you the cup wordlessly, getting into bed as if this act was no big deal. Because it wasn’t, to her it’s a favor you didn’t need to return but it weighs on you heavily. “Thanks.” You mumble, sucking down the coagulated blood faster than you mean to.
For a few moments you fall back into that silence you're both becoming famous for, your lips placed on the cup while she mindlessly finishes her documentary, finding something else to watch on her streaming service. It had to be about 3 am when she finally started getting tired, her body shifting into a more comfortable pose.
Intrigued emerald eyes float towards your figure, you’re not paying attention to her yet all of her attention is on you. There’s a question that gnaws at her, and her pursuit for clarification brings it out of her before she can mull it over, “Did you ever drink from Abby?” She yawns as your eyes snap towards her, staring at her while you contemplate whether or not to lie to her. “No, never got the chance.” You’re honest, and you believe the answer would be enough to end the conversation—of course you’re wrong.
“Oh. Would you drink from me?” Maybe it's the sleep meddling with her brain's functions and maybe you’re too warm and content to stop yourself from admitting to her, “Yeah, if you’d let me.”You shrug. Her eyes snap open abandoning their look of tiredness. “Really? Like if I said I wanted you to bite me right now, you would do it?” Ellie once again sits up on her forearms, the small muscles flexing at the sudden use. You fight to pull your eyes away from them.
“Um, sure…but it might hurt.” You warn as you place the cup on the floor at the foot of the bed.
“Don’t worry, I can’t feel pain.” Her voice is eager as she shimmies out of the wraps she’s made for herself, awaiting the feeling of your fangs on her skin. “You look like you cry over paper cuts.” You tease, walking on your knees over to her body. “Please don’t piss me off right now.” Ellie moans while rolling her eyes.
You let out a chuckle as you watch her fidget and tap at her veins. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Oh, um, I-I thought? Whatever, just do your thing.” Ellie thrusts her wrist into your view awaiting the pain of the bite. While she’s confident that this experience won’t be too traumatic for her, it will probably feel like a bee sting or the slight cut of a knife on her finger—you’re practically shitting bricks. Your hands tremble slightly, your body shakes at the fear of going feral again and killing a “friend”. What if you can’t stop yourself and end up killing everyone in the apartment? What if Abby—
You stop yourself, ‘you’re not starving nor hungry, you’re fine.’ You repeat this sentiment to yourself over and over as your teeth pierce the milky skin of Ellie’s wrist, right where her veins lie.
Two small puncture wounds hit her at once, the first few seconds surging through her body like a botched piercing job. “Ouch.” She mumbles out, but you keep going, the second wave following close behind it. You’re sucking on the wound, lapping at the steady river of red that flows freely, drinking it down like it was worth more than gold. It stings for half a second before giving way to the most pleasurable feeling Ellie had ever felt in her life.
It’s intoxicating, addictive, feels like the very first time she’s ever had an orgasm.
A quiet moan leaves her lips as you take your fill, Ellie silently enjoying every second of it. And then, it's gone. Your smooth tongue laps at the entrance wounds, your saliva stopping the river at its source like a dam she didn’t want built.
“Wha-why are you stopping?” Her tone is hushed and disappointed, terrified at the loss of contact. “Because I can literally kill you?” You don’t make eye contact, instead you flop onto your back, belly thoroughly filled with liquid and you’re more than satisfied with the amount you’ve stolen from her body.
“I can’t believe it. That felt so weird. Does it always feel like that?” You stiffen at the question, ignoring the amazement in her eyes as she looks at the healing puncture on her wrist then back to you, over and over again. Ellie hasn’t noticed your silence for the first couple of seconds, “I don’t know, never stuck around long enough to get feedback.” You grumble out the sentence as she barely acknowledges your words, instead taking out her journal—conveniently making sure to open it so that her drawing is not visible—and writing down her findings.
“How would you say my blood tastes? How does blood taste in general?” Her pen clicks, her fingers moving swiftly as she jots down her own questions while awaiting your answers, “It tastes…familiar? Like, I don’t know beefy? Really delicious, honestly. And everyone’s blood has a different taste to me, like some of them are super sugary, others are really floral or vegetable-y and some just taste like pennies. I guess it might depend on blood type or diet? Never looked into it.”
At every word her hands are quick to write every word, every sentence she hangs off of like the secrets to life are woven into them. “Interesting.” She mutters, focus still held by the notebook, even though her eyes burn with the pain of sleep and from straining her eyes to see in the dark.
“Is that all? I’m getting tired of the questions.” Your back is to her as she shuts the notebook, “Oh, sorry.” Her voice is so quiet, almost ashamed of keeping you up. Then, just one more inquiry slips past her lips. “Wait…you can sleep?”
“Oh my fucking—no Ellie, you caught me, okay? You fucking caught me, I don’t have to sleep but if you ask me another goddamn question I will fucking murder you.” Just your head shifts her way, a hand flying up to join your words. “Sorry, sorry. I just got too excited, I guess.” There’s a small pout on her lips, her eyes never meet yours and you’re starting to regret the things that you’ve said.
You don’t know why her questions make your cold skin prickle, why they cause your non beating heart to sink to your stomach, but that didn't give you the right to hurt her feelings like that. “Look, I had a really long night, and everything with Abby…” Her eyes snap to you as if she suddenly remembered what had transpired moments before, “I just need to rest for tonight, okay? Ask me all the questions you want in the morning.” You give her your sincerest apologetic look, and she gives you a sweet understanding nod in response, her head hitting her pillow.
The room falls silent, just as noiseless as the world outside her room. When you hear Ellie’s soft snores start to fill the room you allow yourself to finally turn over, facing her as her features go soft with sleep. Even taken away by the waves of dreaming she’s gorgeous, vulnerable and pretty. “So cute.” You mutter to yourself, a small smile gracing your features.
By morning Ellie's bed is empty, suspiciously so. She remembers your interaction, she knows you were here, the better question is where were you currently? Her mind begins to race, there's nothing wrong with Dina or Jesse knowing you slept over, it's just …how would she explain it?
As far as they were concerned you both were friendly, having walked in on you both having pleasant conversations once or twice. But, you sleeping in her room, dressed in her clothes, that's a whole new beast in itself, one she had no real desire to deal with.
She lays there for what feels like hours, obsessively contemplating whether she wants to address what could be awkwardness, the sounds of something clattering about in the kitchen and JJ babbling filling her whole body with dread. She reasons that you probably snuck out through the window once you were ready, but that theory flew out said window when she saw the clothes you wore last night still littered across her floor.
‘okay, breathe.’ A hand goes to rub the top of her head, a calming method that does nothing to soothe her anxiety. ‘I’m a grown woman, I can have a girl over if I damn well please’ She tells herself as she slings one leg over the side of her bed, toes curling into the cold wood, grounding her in the reality of her situation.
At some point Ellie knows she will have to face the questions and the prying from her friends, even though she would rather keep her bedroom affairs to herself.
'There's nothing to tell.’ Another comfort that does nothing, still she wills herself out of the room, closing the door slowly. If it wasn't for her curiosity and overwhelming need to pee she would have stayed in her boxy fortress.
Ellie's scarily light on her feet as she walks throughout the hallway, ducking into the bathroom to recollect herself once she hears your voice. Soft and groggy, like you actually slept instead of stared at her the whole time. Your head snaps up as soon as you hear her walk in, Dina smiling hard with a cup of coffee heating up the palms of her hands. Dina’s dressed for work, you're still in her oversized shirt–no shorts like you lived here and were comfortable in your skin.
“Morning Sunshine!” She cringes at the nickname and the volume, head hurting from all the uneasiness she forced into herself way too early in the morning. “Morning.” Her voice husky and hiding thinly veiled annoyance. You have this look on your face that annoys her, the kind that tells her you’ve been up to no good. “El, can I talk to you for a second?” Dina asks, staring deep into the pools of Ellie’s eyes like she wants to drain them of their glory.
Ellie follows close behind Dina as she walks towards the back of the apartment, away from your ears, not far enough though, to stop you from eavesdropping.
“You really couldn’t help yourself, could you?” The brunette begins, a small knowing smirk painted on her tanned features. “Wha—” Ellie’s interrupted, “I told you not to fuck my babysitter, and what do you do? Fuck her anyway!” Ellie’s eyes narrow, Dina still smirks. “That’s not what's going on here, we’re just friends.” A defense that falls on deaf ears as Dina shakes her head in rebuttal, “Yeah, just like you were “just friends” with Kathy Decker and Kat, and August and half the cheerleading team in high school.” Ellie’s flushed, bright red and wishing that she had jumped out the window when she had the chance.
“I’m just saying, you have a thing,” She says it like it’s something Ellie needs to live, not like a series of unfortunate events that just so happen to have happened to her, “for girls like that.”
Even if Dina had a point Ellie would never acknowledge it. In her mind she was the smartest person to have walked the earth, and how dare anyone else look inside of her and see her insecurities and her need to devour every confident pretty girl that crossed paths with her?
“Dina, I swear—” A phone rings, Dina’s phone rings with an alarm telling her to leave for work. “Ah shit.” She scrambles to find all the items she needs for her class, throwing knicknacks that she might need into her bag, kissing JJ on the forehead before yelling “Can someone drop JJ off at daycare please?”and shutting the door behind her. It was a whirlwind of bright colors, and dark hair and lasted all of 30 seconds before she was gone, conversation abandoned.
Instantly, with speed rivaling your own, Ellie's in front of you as you pop grapes into your mouth. The action does nothing for you, almost the same as chewing gum, still it's something to do with your hands. “What the fuck did you tell her?” Ellie sneers.
She's too close to you, hands slamming onto the wooden table where you sit. “Nothing. Whatever conclusion she came up with had nothing to do with me.” You throw your hands up in defense. Your lips carry that mischievous smirk and your eyes shimmer with jest, all of it making Ellie stare at you in accusation.
“Why would I ever lie to you of all people?” Your eyes look her up and down, a small look of disgust painted across your face. “Shut up, this is serious, she thinks we're fucking!” Ellie moans through gritted teeth, she sounds like she's almost pleading with you to take this seriously.
You don't, of course. “She's not the only one.” You shrug before popping another crisp green grape into your mouth. A cigarette would be nice, something to quell the nagging feeling to bite, to chew.
Ellie's eyes go wide, then narrow almost as fast. “What? Who else thinks we're together?" Unbeknownst to her, she's leant forward, invading your airspace as you lean closer. “Abby.” You say it like it's a piece of middle school gossip, like you haven't just given your roided up ex fling who already hates her another reason to make her life hell.
“What?! Why does she think that?” She collapses into the seat next to you, her inked arm combing through the shag of her auburn locks, her eyes blown impossibly wide. “You need to calm down. I had to tell her I was seeing someone!” Another shrug on your part as you pop a second grape into your mouth.“I found her secret vampire hunting lair and I had to think fast.” Your explanation does nothing, instead it makes Ellie crave the splintery feeling of a wooden stake so she can take care of you herself.
“You could've made someone up! Y’know that bitch hates me.”
“I think she's more indifferent towards you.”
“You're not fucking funny.” Ellie’s too stressed, her blood boils with anger at how inconsiderate you’ve been, how you’ve roped her into you and Abby’s bullshit. “Please tell her that we’re not dating.” Her fingers are laced through her hair, tugging it as her elbows rest on the table. She refuses to make eye contact with you, almost as though doing so will result in her spontaneously combusting. “No can do, that would make me a liar.”
Your legs land on the table one after the other, you’re entirely too comfortable in a place you do not pay rent in, but she says nothing to you, instead her eyes trace every piece of you. “You are a liar.” Ellie corrects, head raising slightly, enough for you to see the red coating her features.
“I lied for survival, if I didn’t she would have killed me.” Your eyes sink away from hers, softening just a bit. It’s enough to tug at that same string of Ellie’s heart, corrupting something in her brain stem.
“I wanna kill you.” She mumbles out regardless of the biting, clawing emotion that keeps trying to get her attention. Sympathy, maybe?
“Please, like you could hurt me. You probably cry when you squash a bug.” You chuckle at your mean spirited joke, but she doesn’t acknowledge you, too busy in her own mind to speak out loud.
Five minutes go by before she speaks again, you’re scrolling through your phone assuming the conversation is over and done with. “If I do this for you, I want something more.” She begins, her back straight, her calloused fingers intertwined as she stares at you dead on. You don’t look up from your phone however, “I’m still not sleeping with you Ellie.” Your eyes glance up, Ellie’s eyes are still fixated on you, her expression unreadable.
“You’re still not funny.” Her tongue darts out to lick at her lips, adding moisture to their chapped state. “If you want me to keep your secret, help you stay alive–I want something more than to just study you…I want to dissect you, experiment on you, tear you apart.” Ellie’s up now, circling slowly. You’re not sure if she means for this to be as erotic as it is, the stoic look on her face, the way her slightly muscular body leisurely stalks towards you.
Your thighs squeeze together in anticipation, much to your chagrin. “If you want me to be your fake girlfriend, you’ll say yes.” Her strong hands are on your shoulders, gripping them hard as she awaits your answer.
You swallow, once, twice, even three times before you come up with a nod. It feels so odd to have her in a position of power, she blends into it too easily, like she’s comfortable dominating you. That couldn’t be. “You got so serious all of a sudden.” You state the obvious, her grip tightens again, “Because I am so fucking serious, I want to be able to do whatever I want to you in exchange for you allowing that meathead to know we’re dating.” Another shock swings its way to your core, nearly pulling a needy groan from your throat.
You shrug her hands off your shoulders, “Fine, whatever, just stop talking like that, it’s making me uncomfortable.” Your hands go up to rub at your shoulders, and for a second you think you hear her chuckle, faintly but loud enough for your ears to pick up on.
“M’kay.” Ellie carries this smirk as she saunters over to the fridge, pulling out an unopened redbull and pulling the tab with one finger. The sound of it snapping causes you to flinch, immediately you’re up and walking towards her room. “I’m gonna go get JJ ready for–um–daycare.” The chair nearly falls over with how fast you get up, completely forgetting your speed.
“You can borrow a pair of sweatpants, I don't want you dropping my nephew off looking like a hooker!” She yells at you, a small smirk playing on her lips. This would be fun, you like to toy with her mind, so it only feels right to toy with your body.
conclusion: meaty and homecooked. weird.
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦ ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦
⬩➤Taglist : let me know if I missed anyone !
@chelsorat, @trolldollxoxo, @viscousblob, @Zoey-jinxer, @sparklyl0tus, @prodigyofspires, @missmorbidette, @bamboozlingbamboozled@devotedlyshamelessdetective, @div1nitype4rl, @cup1dssworld, @jejjdjdk, @ylxiru, @imdrowningindispair, @keliamks
