Flesh For Fantasy
A Battle of Britpop x reader Halloween fic
Context: I saw a couple vampire Gallagher fics this October & I thought, yo... these dudes are werewolves man, and Damon is vampirecoded, so I decided to make this stupid ass fic (this is probably the most ridiculous shit I’ve ever written in my life) I also hope you like the cover photos, I edited them on this super expensive software called powerpoint Summary: You run away from your wedding & get involved with a cute vampire and a pair of alluring werewolves, all whom despise one another 🫣 Reader Desc: fem!reader Content Warnings!!!: crack fic!, 4th wall breaks, author goes on tangent twice, lyrics if you squint, mommy issues, fantasy au, bloodplay, kidnapping, getting yo freak on with vampire Damon, getting yo shit on with werewolf Liam, also angst?, cocaine mention, gun use, arson, implied alpha/omega relations Word Count: 7.1k
White cake, white dress, white veil, and white lies. You knew you'd start a new life today. This just wasn't what you had expected.
Red roses the color of corporate Valentines lay in your nervous hands, the artificial dye on them stained the white roses surrounding them into a harsh sight, as you walked down the isle. Your father smiled at you as tears welled up in both of your eyes. Sniffling could be heard from one of the seats to your left, which you knew was coming from your best friend. Your veil hung like a curtain across your face, barely showing the silhouette of your husband-to-be.
You don't remember too much of the reception. In all truth, you'd been too overwhelmed by it all to have listened to the priest as you held hands with your man.
"Any objections?"
The heavy church doors opened. There she was. Your mother.
Your parents had divorced when you were young. Too young to remember. You never thought about your mother really, unless you looked in the mirror for too long - noticing all the features you couldn't recognise on your dad's side. Especially your eyes. Your mother was shunned by most people you knew. She believed in the paranormal a little too much. When she was pregnant with you, she was convinced it wasn't your dad's. She told people she got impregnated by the ghost of her old lover who died when they were in college. In all honesty, you agreed with your dad. She had to be at least a little mental; who gets impregnated by the dead? You'd never tell your dad, but whenever he was out of town, you'd go to the local witch museums and try to figure out if there really was something out there. Your mother looked so normal in photos before you came into their lives. You didn't blame yourself for her mental downfall, of course, but you couldn't help but feel a connection to whatever it is she must have seen back in that fateful year of your conception.
"Stop! Stop the whole thing!!"
The older version of you ran skiddishly all the way up to the altar, eyes wide and dry as if she hadn't slept in days, yet red and popping as if she'd been crying.
You looked at your fiancé, but his eyes were on your mother. His lips went dry as he looked back and forth between the two of you.
"I- I told you not to come..!" he stuttered.
There had been nights when your man had returned home late. Nights when he'd go out to the pub with his mates. Weekends he'd have to call in. He was a respectful man - surely.. Said he loved your eyes. It was his favorite thing about you. You were so expressive without having to say a single word. He loved them. He loved it. Keeping you quiet; keeping you hushed down. He was the only person you confided in about your paranormal studies, and sometimes you thought he made you out to be ridiculous. You never questioned anything he did. Sometimes he came home and called you by your mother's name. You thought it might've just been accidental. You did look fairly similar to her, plus, a lot of your time had you spent talking about her to him. But now you realised what it all meant. And it made you sick to your very stomach.
"You should've never proposed to her! It should've been me!"
Mental might have been a severe understatement.
You didn't notice when you dropped your bouquet. The only faint memory remaining in your head was the stinging of your hand against the stubble of his cheek and the murmurs that followed. Your nerves walked you out of the chapel before you could ever begin crying.
Your ex-fiancé had been cheating on you with your own mother.
That was this morning. Since then, you've thrown up twice & cried more times than you could think. Your mascara smeared on your face and you couldn't bother to fix it if it meant you had to meet those oh-so horrible eyes through the rearview mirror. If you could change anything about yourself it'd be those awful things.
You thought maybe taking a drive would ease your mind for a bit. You'd been driving for so particularly long that you ended up in a more rural area than you were used to. Matter of fact, you don't think you'd ever been to this side of the countryside before. It was late October, and that meant evenings were foggier, wetter, and dimmer than in the past few months. You couldn't see much of the road ahead of you - even with your hazard lights on. It was incredibly deep down to your right, where the trees spiked tall and brooding over the overgrown grass. It wasn't raining, so you thought it'd be refreshing to lower your window, even for a little bit; the car felt intoxicating to be in for this long. You continued driving down the rubbled road when you noticed that... there wasn't a single sound other than your breathing. No swaying of the trees, no birds, hell, your car wasn't even rumbling anymore.
Your car wasn't rumbling anymore.
"You're joking."
You jammed your keys, attempting to start up your car when you slammed your head on the wheel out of frustration - a bruise now on your forehead.
"Augh.!"
This had to be the worst day of your life. The door was locked and janky enough that it wouldn't budge if your car was off, so you took a hot minute squirming out the open window muttering curses.
The fog was even worse outside. You had no light, and your phone died an hour back. All you could do was either sit and wait back in the car and wait for the fog to settle - which was highly unlikely - or follow the road until you got to the nearest town - what you went with.
You lost track of time, and dusk was settling in when a massive gate faded into your field of vision. The intricacy of the iron-wielding stopped you right in your tracks. Its design looked centuries old, but the quality of it was so pristine that surely someone who could help you had to live behind whatever this gate was protecting. After all, the woods around you were anything but inviting. The gate had a huge lock on it, and a keyhole big enough to make you realise the owner hadn't updated his security since before 1848. Matter of fact, the lock, unlike the gate, was worn & rusty. You squinted your eyes as you searched for a rock strong enough to crumble it, and you creaked the gate open.
Unlike the gravel you had been driving on for most of the day, this pathway was built out of sett*. Your shoes clicked all the way down until you gasped at the sight just several metres ahead of you. A dark, strong building with spindly towers so tall that if you kept following them up, your head would spin. The windows were heavily curtained, but you could see a faint light behind them, so you continued towards the large set of oak doors that shut the wonders of the manor out of the world. The steps up to the manor were short and steep. They reminded you of those ancient buildings you had to go up on during your holidays with your ex.. Except these were recently smoothed and polished. Then there was the door knocker - which was definitely the most peculiar thing about the mansion so far: a rather gothic bat, facing the door, head nailed to its wood. It was bigger than any bat you've ever seen in real life, but it was extraordinarily detailed for it to just be some figment of the designer's imagination. Gosh.. you were sounding like your mother. Hung by the bat's claws was a mirror. You had forgotten how horrible your state was. Hair messed over, makeup smeared as if you had just got out of a wedding night orgy - you wish that'd been the case. You'd been fortunate that your dress hadn't been too long, because it was uncomfortable enough that the fog had oozed into it. It broke your heart in comparison to the pearly white the gown had been when you'd first bought it. The corner of your eyes caught a blue light not too far behind your reflection, making you swish your head over to the side - where two sets of blue dots watched you from a distance. You gasped out loud and heard what those four legs carried slip away into the nearby forest. You were really worried now that night had set in, and with no doubt in mind, you pulled the bat's door knocker, and its wings boomed against the door three times.
*Sett - a type of road made of pebble-like stones
Still watching your back for your own safety, the double doors slowly widened. You had thoroughly expected the owner of this mansion to be an incredibly old - and probably perverted - man, but before you, stood a somehow gorgeous gentleman, not any older than you were. Sure, his outfit was a bit outdated... but his bright blue eyes and blondish hair couldn't help but make you bashfully smile at him. You felt guilty for immediately reacting this way though, especially considering you were supposed to be a married woman right now. No! Your ex-fiance cheated on you! You're a freer woman than he could ever dream of being.
His bewildered face scanned you over. It hit you just how absurd this situation truly was. A runaway bride seeking refuge at a gothic mansion merely lost to time.
"You, uh, you're lost."
It wasn't a question, and he didn't wait for introductions to step aside and welcome you in. Maybe he worked for the mansion's master.
"My car broke down just down the road from here. I was lucky enough to find this place as soon as I did." You gestured down the dark road behind you, the overall energy giving you goosebumps.
The look on his face was mildly sympathetic, his eyes peering past the fog you came from. It made you wonder if he knew what those eyes belonged to. You didn't want to bug him so quickly though.
"Who's your boss's name?"
"Count Albarn."
Count Albarn? Who the hell goes by Count these days?
"And your name?"
"Damon."
He didn't ask you why you were wearing a bridal gown - it was pretty obvious what had happened to you.
"If I may ask, how old is this place?"
"About two centuries."
"It's in amazing condition."
A small, satisfied smile appeared on his face as he studied you once more, making you notice his canines were quite sharp-looking. He studied your face this time. He was genuinely one of the prettiest men you had ever come across. You were almost grateful for your day turning out the way it did if it meant you'd meet this caped beauty.
The building's interior was a beautiful maroon with deep oak accents. The wallpaper, detailed to the brim so much so that if you paced yourself close enough to it, you could read the count's initial, which made up the majority of the walls' pattern. There were knights lined up at the entryways of every major room, and carpets below you smoother than wine. He walked you up a spiral staircase, with a slim medieval window on every level, taking a heavy, bronze key out of his pocket before opening the door.
"You can stay here for tonight. There's a lavatory just down these stairs and down the hall. Breakfast's at sunrise - if you'd care to join."
He said that last part quietly. Since you'd came in, he could barely look at you. At first, you'd thought it was so you didn't feel embarrassed over how awful you looked, but maybe he wasn’t used to guests. You thanked him and he led you upstairs, where you entered a room set apart from the rest - cause you’re lowkey getting that y/n treatment #best-worst-day-ever!!! The fog outside the stained-glass window still reached to this height, but it wasn't dense enough to hide the landscape you'd be spending the night in; late autumn made the forest look like scarlet, fitting the color palette of the rest of this manor. This room was a lot narrower than the rest of the building. The walls seemed to go up forever, since the candelabras could only illuminate up so far. There could be a glittery pink thong collection hanging from the ceiling and you’d never be able to see it. A massive mirror was set on one of the walls, facing a plush bed.
Now this was the kind of bed a girl could only dream of. It was one of those with the curtain drapes and pillows filled with goose feathers. You knew you were going to have the best sleep of your life after you washed yourself up - which led you to quietly tip-toe down the stairs to find that bathroom he talked about. You suppose he didn't say bathroom, did he? Lavatory? This guy must've been private schooled if he still calls it such a thing.
The mindless thoughts parading your mind paused when you heard a withering groan.
"Oh god, what now..?"
Your heart pounded in your chest as another sound escaped from the washroom - this time, more of an aching sound. You were concerned, but it’d be a lie if you didn't say you were intrigued. It didn't take you long to realise that all the doors in this place had old-fashioned keyholes, and you leaned close to the doorframe, preparing yourself to take a peek - honestly, what's the worst you could see? A wet sound errupted from the room, and it took you back a bit, though it wasn't enough to keep you from closing your head onto the keyhole.
You could have never expected what you saw that night. The count's servant, Damon, blood dripping from his hands and down his chin... But that wasn't the worst of it. The whole tub was filled to the brim with the iron-smelling sap. It was too much for you, and you immediately held your hand up to your mouth, falling back onto the hallway's carpet, a little too loud for comfort. Your hands trembled as you shuffled yourself back up and you ran down that hallway. It felt like it had grown in half its length, the hall disproportionately stretching the further you ran. Your breath faltered when you tripped over a crease on the carpet. Failing to hold on to the edge of a table, you caused a rather expensive-looking china vase to tip over and smash into a million sharp pieces. So much dust wisped into the air around you, you wondered if it had been an urn. You coughed out the dread as you felt a long cut along your right thigh, your very own blood seeped into your wedding dress. The door burst open and before you was an awfully thin man, paler than the foam rabies of a lab rat, and he faltered in your direction. The ebony cape around his shoulders made it look like he was hovering in mid-air, scaring you even more.
"Please! Please no!" you meeped, barely audible to even yourself.
A metre was too much for you to move, until the man suddenly tumbled to the ground, giving you enough courage to sit up and crawl behind the side of the oak dresser you had nearly knocked over. The man whimpered into a voice you recognised - Damon's - and you peeked over the corner. He was just as pale as before, blood drying down his neck, and he weakly mumbled under the cloak.
"I didn't-" he stuttered, "I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait.."
You gulped helplessly as he shifted, immediately staring into the backs of your retinas and freezing your soul in place. Almost as if he knew where you had been hiding. You glanced down at your dress, ruby smearing way past the layer of fabrics by now, leaving you dizzy.
"You're human; you have to eat, don't you? I only get to do so once a month.."
"What do you mean 'you're human??'" was what you would've said if your voice hadn't fled the scene moments ago.
He spoke to himself as his limbs trembled back up, attempting to validate his actions, as if you'd ever excuse the horrors you just saw.
"I promise I won't kill you."
His polished shoes clacked over the muffling carpet until he was right in front of you. Your eyes fell back down to your dress and his pupils blew at the sight of it, causing you to gulp as heat rushed to your face. Your ex never looked at you like that. Well, your ex wasn't exactly this kind of parasite... You hissed at your pain and he dropped down.
"May I?"
Imagine you were just about to get married to a middle-class moron and turned out he was shagging your MOM. Like. Think about it. You came outta that hole homegirl! And he’s wrecking it!! Probably. Your ex is about to become your stepfather! In a story like this, you'd probably wish for a prince to come save your sorry ass, and this is frankly the best I could afford. Or maybe you'd wish for a bad boy to hit you up, which in that case do not fret because you are getting TWO queen!!
You nodded. Well, you didn't know if it was you in control or what, his awfully pale eyes watching his hands hold your dress at the rim, slowly revealing just how awful the cut was. It went from a little ways above your knee and up your thigh about four inches. Damon knew better than to take advantage of his guest cause he was raised right, and he held himself back by biting his lips.
"Do you want to keep this dress?" he scoffed, "who am I kidding." ripping a line of fabric off your dress and looking back up into your eyes for permission to get closer, which you nodded to.
The cold of his hands on your thigh made you ache as he secured the makeshift bandage. He tried to ignore just how much blood he had gotten on his hands, but you couldn't help but ask:
"Are you going to-"
"No."
"Not unless you wanted me to."
If vampires had blood in their veins, he would've definitely been blushing. For such a frightening creature, he was kind of cute when he couldn't maintain eye contact with you.
"I mean, why not..? At this rate.."
He eyed you inconspicuously.
"Modern women are insane.." He muttered to himself as he then began studying you. "We don't bite vitals, if you were wondering."
He gently picked your hand up, palm upwards, and slowly traced up your arm. Intoxicatingly slow. Studying. He continued down, eyes falling back to the seeping cloth around your leg, & gulped noticeably, running a hand down his face.
"This won’t feel that great or anything.. " He added, trying to convince you otherwise. Hoping, even. He didn’t want to remember how good fresh blood tastes like. He’d worked so hard against it.
"And what if I want you to?"
His eyebrows lifted at your words. It must’ve rewired something in him, because he didn’t look so against what he said only four seconds ago.
As his face approached the soft flesh of your forearm, he paused briefly - taking note of how quick your chest was rising. He sunk his teeth into you and you bit the side of your hand to focus away from the piercing in front of you, though unable to look away. The penetration wasn't even the insane part to you, even if it hurt like hell. Like a flu shot using a 16-gauge needle. To further put it into perspective, that’s the needle size used on cattle. The type of needle so thick you can hear when it snaps your skin open. I know this because one time I was sitting at a hospital when I was seven years old and saw a doctor inject one of those into someone’s actual ass cheek & I fully remember the snapping of the skin like I wasn’t supposed to be there but it happened & the sight imprinted itself into my mind forever & now you have to share that memory with me.
By the way adding the previous sentence was debated on for months & only added in July of 2026 so if you’re a new reader you get extra treats.
Anyway, he was glued tight onto your arm, eyes shut as he suctioned the life out of you. Which was lowkey kind of erotic so you didn’t really mind. It wasn't until he let out an unapologetically loud whine, snapping you back to reality, that he threw himself onto his back, arm thrown over his face and taking a deep breath, making you think he'd done that in one breath - which was likely. You looked back down at your arm and saw two deep red pecks, the most embarrassing part of this interaction being the massive violet bruise it left on you. Your arm no longer bled, and the draining from your thigh felt like it had slowed. You lifted your head off the wall, and feebly made your way over to him.
"Thanks.. Thanks a lot." he swallowed, worn out.
It must have been a long time since he had had something fresh. Or maybe you were just delicious 🤫 We’ll never know.
"No problem."
"You should probably not use the bathroom on this floor; there's one in my quarter back at the front.."
You leaned down and kissed his ashy cheek.
"And are you gonna be okay?"
You asked, still kneeling beside him. He didn’t look at you - he couldn’t. His goofy ass boutta zing hotel transylvania style 🔥 Wait omg imagine like Damon performing the zing song with Graham and shit like Graham sings Selena Gomez vampire’s parts I forgot her name. And instead of Drac doing that rapping thing in the vampire voice it’s actually like Damon with the 2D voice filter thing I don’t remember what he calls it. And Dave is the ghost guy cause he's ginger & no one seems to notice him. Anyway!!
"Yeah," he wailed out, finally finding it in himself to sit back up. His hair was all ruffled up and you thought he couldn’t look cuter.
"Could you, you know, walk me there? This place is pretty huge, and I don’t really want to get lost." you asked of him, as if you didn’t want to eat him up right then and there.
He nodded, falling back into those polite mannerisms he’d first greeted you with.
"Yeah, of course."
You didn't notice the sun coming up; the curtains were so dense it made the world outside look like you were under the Red Sea. You were snug in your designated bed, back in that room up in one of the towers with the thong ceiling. Maybe it was the pink and white Victoria’s Secret wallpaper that kept making you think of that. Sitting up in the lavender nightgown you'd found in one of the large wardrobes the night prior, you lifted yourself out of bed when you realised you really messed your right leg up. You couldn't put your weight on it if you tried. Cold sweat covered your body as you sat there. The gorgeous mirror, now covered by a satin curtain, looked back just as blankly at you. Gosh, what an exhausting day it had been. Not even the comfiest bed in this manor could've fixed your weariness.
"Hey, are you awake?"
Your nerves made you jump, the bed creaking.
"I brought you tea, since you missed breakfast."
He had a bit of trouble pushing the door open, but he came in with a gold platter in his arms, a kettle and cup upon it. The tea was a bright red and smelt flowery, unlike any drink you'd ever seen before. He insisted it was tea, but the way it poured from the kettle was a bit thicker than your average water.
"Oh- thanks. Good morning by the way."
"Yeah, good mourning."
His eyes followed your mouth as it reached the rim & the liquid reached your lips. Almost instantaneously did you feel your tendons tighten. You scoffed and grabbed your leg with your hands when you realised it no longer hurt, which earned you a knowing look from the blond. He took the cup from your sweaty hands as you got up and walked in short circles, not fully believing what had just happened. You were just about to go towards the mirror when he reached out for your arm and stopped you - his skin so chilly, you stepped backwards, nearly slipping if he had let go.
"Family recipe. It uh, helps with just about anything."
"Uh huh.."
He could tell you didn't trust what he'd just fed you, and the two of you stared at each other in silence. That was, until the sound of glass shattering was heard downstairs.
"Agh-"
Damon dropped the platter on the side of your bed as he turned to your window, attempting to make out any movements through the dense curtain. You followed him and threw the curtain open, Damon yelling for you to close it again. As his arm wailed over his eyes.
"Oh gosh- I didn't know that was real about you people."
You closed the curtain until your eye could peek through the gap, Damon patting himself down as if his body were on fire. Your eyebrows raised.
"No way.."
"Is it the wolves?"
"How'd you know?"
You could only make out two brown creatures jumping into the remaining frame of a window too far to see properly from this view. He stood right next to you, waiting for you to look back at him and give him a sign. He looked frightened. He must’ve not slept very much last night, that much you could tell by the noticeable bags under his eyes. I’m thinking Beetlebum music video 🤤☝️ you guys know what I mean. Though I feel kinda bad now for saying that considering the circumstances of that song but whatever, don’t do drugs guys. Also don’t use AI, do all of your tomfooleries by hand like intended.
If you had told yourself the man before you was the same one who'd almost gave you a heart attack last night, you would have rightfully admitted yourself to a mental asylum. This Damon was growing on you incredibly so.
"They've been a problem for years. They're probably stealing from my jewelroom as we speak."
He was halfway down the stairs - you following closely behind. Jewelroom? You'd never heard of such a room before.
"That doesn't make any sense. Wolves are just- well, animals."
Damon let out a scoff without further explanation.
"Animals? Definitely."
"Maybe.." you added, not so sure what some wolves would want to do in a jewelroom. But there was a chance Damon didn’t mean rubies and sapphires. Perhaps a jewelroom to him is what a cooler is to you. Like a lavoratory and a bathroom, which are completely not the same thing.
The two of you went down a labyrinth of hallways and stairs before being greeted by a heavy, stone door. The door didn't fit the aesthetic of the rest of the mansion - making you assume it was a cellar type of room, which was just the rightful location for a jewel storage. Damon unlocked a slider that was hooked onto the door, pushing it to the side and revealing a grated peephole that reached across the door.
"Hi Damon,"
A familiarly-shaped pair of blue eyes were already waiting for him on the other side of the door - several boxes and glasses crashing from within. While Damon was itching to get in, the unknown man on the other side acted oblivious to the wreckage.
"Who's there with you?"
"It's none of your business, Noel, I've already told you I don't have any silver-"
A loud crash of wood was heard and both Noel and Damon squinted their eyes at it, Noel turning his head back to whoever was causing all that ruckus.
"My bad."
Damon bit his fangs into his lips in attempt to control how pissed off he was, a small snip breaking into his skin.
"If anything, the country house a couple of miles from here might have silver." he told them.
"Well why didn't you just say so?" the voice from inside yelled back. It sounded a lot like Noel's but somewhat lighter.
Damon shut the peephole closed and turned right around, going up the stairs and stomping the whole way, muttering some nonsense about 'should've taken that holiday in Greece', leaving you there alone.
"Did he kidnap you?"
You looked down and noticed a severe hole in the door, probably from rot over the years.
"Huh?"
You squatted down to his level.
"This is the first time Damon's had any guests over since what happened to Graham."
"What happened to him?"
"We don't really know-"
"I don't give a fuck about Graham." interrupted the younger voice.
"Liam shut the fuck up, I think this bird's hypnotised."
"Does anyone else live here?"
"With Damon? Nah, he's the only one ever around." Liam added.
"But he told me about Count Albarn."
Liam laughed quite loudly at you, Noel turning back to the hole.
"I don't know how to tell you this but Damon is Count Albarn, babe."
You felt your cheeks grow flustered at how stupid you just felt. Damon was no more truthful than your ex. You truly were an imbecile. For the first time since you went through those gates you gave it some consideration. Damon clearly had no petrol - probably. And despite him mentioning a count living with him, there were no other people in the manor, and you were certain now that he had no plans to send you away soon.
"Has he drank your blood yet?" Liam asked, mimicking a little vampire accent, Noel scoffing.
"He has actually."
"Oh, you've got to get out of here." He continued to speak as you got up and tried to open the door - forgetting Damon left with the key. "He might seem all polite and studious but he's gonna leave you dry before Friday."
"The doors locked." you panicked.
"Damon won't let you leave out the front anymore if he knows what you taste like."
"Yeah, well uh..." you gulped at the wording. "You're staying up in his watchtower right?"
"Watchtower?" you questioned them.
You thought it looked more like a bedroom than a watchtower. Though maybe he could afford to decorate every room however he wants - considering his count status.
"At night he likes to stalk around like the weirdo he is. The window up in that room opens and he flies around looking for prey. Though his kind's scared 'em all off a long time ago."
"Must be like a blur to him."
"Yeah, you could say that again. A month for us is a day to him."
You sat there next to the door listening to the two of them fill you in. You should probably get up to that window as soon as you could and escape. It'd be worth more to have to walk through the fog than become a vampire's afternoon snack. You felt safer now considering Noel and Liam just told you there weren't any animals left in these woods.
"But, Damon told me there were wolves around here."
The followed silence made you nod to yourself. Yeah, you should know better than to believe in anything he says at this point.
"Ok, I'm going to try and get the hell out of here now."
"You go do that." replied Noel, before you heard the two of them run out of the jewelroom.
It'd been only twenty minutes since you had slipped back onto bed, sick to your stomach about this whole thing. The window had no locks and no way for you to reach the opening near the top unless you stacked a bunch of tables on each other, but your leg was still healing and you didn't want to injure it any further, so here you were, moping in bed.
Knock. Knock knock.
Your heart quaked at the persistence. Damon spoke:
"Are you feeling well?"
"Uh, yeah," you called out. "I'm fine.."
He didn't bother to ask if he could come in, his keys shovelling out of his pocket and making you panic. You got out of bed, still in your sleeping gown - your only clean clothes anyway - and grabbed the candlestick on the nightstand. Your hand shook as you padded to the window and started smashing it with the bronze rod as Damon fumbled to get the door to budge open.
"Hey! What are you doing??"
He stayed back, as the sunlight peering through made him hiss. You shuffled onto the rim of the window, feet on the ledge. It was at least three floors to the ground. But you had no time to wait; you either get sucked alive (not in the fun way) or manage to escape and treat yourself to something (like getting sucked alive in the fun way). You closed your eyes tightly before leaping off.
Of course, since this is a fanfic and everything that's happened thus far has been ridiculous enough, you don't actually die. Someone catches you before you hit the ground, and you shoot your eyes open to see one of those two guys from the cellar holding you tightly. Damon's voice slowly fades into nothing as your savior heaves you into the dark forest..
"What took you so long?" he said.
His eyes were blue, like Damon's, but unlike his these were murkier. Greasy, brown hair and a pair of sideburns to match was a great comparison to the poshness you had somehow gotten used to with Damon. Your heart fluttered at how hard he was breathing in your ear before he tossed you onto the ground with no warning.
"Oof-" you let out.
"You made it seem like you were in a hurry to leave."
"Were you waiting for me?"
He didn't reply; the guilt creeping up on you ever so slightly. You mean, nobody told him to wait for you.
"What was your name again?"
"I don't think I ever told you. But it's Liam."
"Thanks Liam."
"Yeah, it's no problem." he grinned at you as he squatted down to your side.
His eyes were wild, round. Not in the way Damon looked at you when blood dripped down your thigh, but Liam's youthful demeanor had enthralled you.
"The road's down that way." he pointed to your right. The fog made it nearly impossible for you to see past the trees, and you gulped at the mere thought of travelling through that by yourself.
A pair of blue lights shone in the fog, right where you had been staring, just quick enough to startle you but not long enough to keep you from questioning if you'd imagined it. Then Noel appeared.
"Oh, hi." he said to you. His tone with you was a lot nicer than it had been with Damon.
"D'you reckon I can go with the two of you to that country house and find some petrol for my car?"
The two of them looked at each other, then Noel looked out into the sky.
"I don't mean to scare you but I think it might be too late for today."
"Yeah, almost night and that old man's probably back from work."
Your eyes widened.
"Old man?"
"Well, yeah, you don't expect it to be an empty old house, or else we'd be living in it." Liam brushed the side of his head, subconsciously, as he explained it to you.
"Damn. So you two just raid houses or what?"
"Trying to find silver."
"For what?"
"To get Damon off the radar. Then things can get back to normal around here."
It made sense. Even the trees looked afraid of him.
"Since silver kills vampires 'n all that." added Noel.
"I bet I could find some. You know, old rich families used to bury their silver in case of war. I'm sure there could be some around the country house." you said.
As the night settled in, you couldn't help but notice how bright their eyes were - faintly glowing under the moonlight. Fortunately for you, they let you follow along; they seemed to know how to get around very well and you would have probably pissed yourself if you had been left alone. You couldn't help but take note of how peculiar they looked. Liam wore a long, fur coat that went from up from his neck, down to his shins, while Noel wore a plain jumper and pair of trousers that simply seemed out of fashion. It was the way they walked that confused you the most - the only leaves crackling were the ones under your shoes; somehow they had perfected stalking.
"R'kid’s, gonna stay here with you, I'm gonna make sure he's not at home for sure."
Liam didn't respond to Noel, but he took a seat on the dry grass ahead of you. Noel was out of sight by the time you sat across Liam. The silence that followed was the type that made you feel your heart beat pound and made your skin feel fleshy. You couldn't wait to get home.
"How's it feel to be a vampire?" he asked you, hands tearing a large leaf.
"I am not a vampire." you crossed your arms, before looking down at the hickey on your forearm. Liam's hand reached for yours and the stark difference in temperatures shook you. You were a vampire now. "Yeah he did you good didn't he? Must've been fun." he muttered to humor himself.
You didn't feel like a vampire. During one of those witch tours you'd taken, you recalled the guide explaining that it takes weeks - even months - for vampires to get noticeable on the street. Their skin starts drying and their blood drains until they can't go out in the sun any longer.
"You're not human either." You hadn't been sure enough to say so, but you had to jab back at him.
"Nah, I'm not; I'm a straight dog."
The two of you stared at each other for an eternity there in the quiet fog. It stuck to you like sweat, and it didn't help ignore what you felt when his hand reached for your hair, twirling the ends of it as he got closer. He must've only been used to his and Noel's.
"You smell pretty good for having been stuck up in a place with a walking-dead man." It sounded like a compliment, but you weren't certain.
You leaned on his side, barely staying awake as he played with your hair. His coat was just warm enough to send you into a drifting train of thoughts. A dog? You wouldn't have thought much of it if you hadn't experienced such a far-fetched two days. Lifting your head, you asked him:
"You don't mean that literally do you?"
You turned to face him. His pupils were rounder than any good old sober person. You were so close to him that you could feel his breath hitting your frozen nose.
"Do you do, you know.. cocaine?"
"Worse."
You scoffed. Was this guy ever serious? He didn't seem to be. He sat up all of a sudden, looking straight ahead, eyebrows sharply curved and reminiscent of silent film actress Clara Bow, yet incredibly bushy instead of her pencil-drawn brows. Other than that he looked nothing like Clara Bow because Liam Gallagher looks foul & is not pure of heart. You tried following his line of sight, but all you saw was that dreadful fog. You looked back at him but he was clearly focused on something you had just simply lost on radar.
"What's the matte-"
He shushed you, shutting your mouth with a hand that tasted like nicotine and dirt. The both of you heard the twitching of wings from above you and he threw the both of you onto the ground, using his coat for cover. It must've been Damon searching for you. Now you understood why Liam wore such a big coat - and it wasn't just for style. The fabric perfectly blended in with the dry grass surrounding the premises and it covered your scent. (Author's Note: HELP ME) You shifted up to see Liam still looking over the thin trees, and honestly, you thought this whole situation was more than enticing. You could feel every one of his limbs against you. He looked down at you with a roguish grin, as if he had read your mind. You were totally ashamed now. He knew about what you and Damon had done the moment he saw you in person - he must've thought you were for the streets. You pushed your thoughts down and he finally let go of you.
"Damon?" you whispered.
"Shhh"
What-ever, you rolled your eyes. Neither of you said a word until Noel came back, not soon later, holding what you made out to be a cricket bat. He must've found it at the house.
"Well c'mon then." he smacked Liam with the side of it.
"Oi. Not again- I won't let you."
All of the lights were off inside the country house. It was a small home built entirely out of wood. Studying witchcraft, you'd come to recognise this architecture being quite old - the owner must've inherited it from his parents during World War I.
"Alright, where d'you think any silver might be dug?"
"I'm here to find gas for my car." you reminded Noel, earning a rightfully annoyed stare from him.
"Not to break your spirits, but if any silver had been planted by the previous owners, they're likely underneath these trees. The best bet you have - if you need silver as soon as possible - is around the back door. That's what they used to do back in the day."
He nodded, mentally jotting down what you said as the three of you huddled over to the digging site. He picked up a shovel next to the door and Liam started... digging with his hands..? He was really good at it too, surprisingly. You noticed a shed by the side of the frail structure, and stared in disgust at the amount of flies, worms, and whatever those things were crawling in and out the sides were. You kicked the door open and unfortunately for you all there was was a deep pit into the ground. Yuck. No petrol here. You circled the home and realised the road it was behind was the same one your car was still stuck in, so as soon as you found that gasoline, the quicker you could escape this place for good. One of the back windows was left slightly open, and you pushed the rim up, rust cutting your palms as you did so. Worse things had happened to you at this point and you climbed over into the kitchen. Each wall and floor was entirely planked with wooden slabs the same color as the bark on the ones outside - not only that, but the cabinets and dining table too. There was only one chair, so you assumed this old man lived alone. It must've been a sad life to live, you thought. Maybe he planned on getting married someday and time never allowed it. Or maybe you were just projecting onto him. Either or, you stormed through every piece of storage in the house when you finally found your red gas can. You shook it around, feeling that honeyed freedom sway all the way back to the window when you heard the front door burst open.
You turned your head and were met by a man around seventy, half balding and a terrifying scowl across his face. He kicked a shotgun you hadn't noticed, propped up against the doorframe of the kitchen, into his arms and he shook with utter rage as he attempted to load it. While this all happened, you screamed your head off, hugging the can as hard as you could as you threw yourself out the window, cannonball style when a bang hit the can of petrol. Noel dropped the shovel in his hand, pockets full of successfully discovered cutlery while Liam smoked a cigarette next to him on the ground. You stumbled back up and had to dodge every few feet as the man shot bullet after bullet at you. Noel grabbed your arm and the two of you fled into the woods when you heard the bang of Liam's cigarette flying into the house.
You cried out in fear that Liam had died, but he quickly caught back up to you and Noel by the time the two of you made it back to the main road. The woman you had been when you first got out of your car was confused and alone. But now, you were confused, alone, and glad you were alive - which was way better than how you felt previously. Your can had lost a ton of gas, but it may have been just enough to get you into the next town. Noel helped you fill your tank and you thanked him and Liam graciously, scribbling your phone number into a scrap receipt you found in your car's center console and receiving a fat smooch on the face by Liam through your window. The brothers pushed your car when you started it up, and you were never more relieved to get back to your town.
