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BLOODSHOT - VAMPIRE!RYAN ROSS X READER

summary - ryan always avoided the dancers, but he had been acting more off then usual, and as much as you wanted to push the toughs away, you only grew more curious.

- slight enemies to lovers, vampire, iloveryanross, very twilight coded, reader is a backup dancer, extremely small illusions to sexual thoughts, reference to smoking 🍃

a/n - idk dude, I love vampire stuff and for some reason ry reminds me of edward, also if youve seen the video youve seen the video..."just thirsty" ok ryan wrap it up but also 😳

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The evening started like any other. Panicked bodies rushing around, applying rouge to already flushed cheeks, it was its own unstructured routine in a way; you knew what to expect. The faint sound of the crowd heightened already alert dancers as you all added the finishing touches to circus-like costumes, rehearsing dances you had done several times over, or relaxing over a blunt passed from person to person, organised chaos.

They always came to visit before coming on stage; they wanted us to feel appreciated. Brendon creeps up behind you in an attempt to scare you, and it almost does, but you can't tell if it's nerves from his attempt or the sounds from outside that only grew with each passing second.

“Hey, you always get like this, and you always do great, don't sweat it, doll”, Brendon reassures, half trying to ease your nerves, half trying to control his own.

You nod softly, quiet like usual. Although as a dancer you appeared confident, you were the least self-assured person you knew, and so did everyone around you, some attempting to make you feel more reassured than others.

A cold force settles near you, he's close, you thought to yourself. You turn to see Ryan, perfecting his collar in the mirror, his pale fingers kneading the fabric gently, as if it wouldn't be ruffled by the stage and its dancers. He was a sweet guy, or at least he seemed sweet to others. You truly couldn't know for yourself, he avoided the dancers like the plague, but especially you it had seemed.

You had tried to convince yourself you were overthinking it, but each time you were even within 5 meters of him, he would turn and flee, as something in you deterred him. You thought you could push the feeling down, that it didn't matter, but it was Ryan, and it mattered more than you would like to admit.

You didn't want it to become something you thought of, but slowly he crept into your mind, into your dreams even. You would dream you woke up, and he was just standing there, watching as you rested in the Van with all the other dancers, and then he'd be gone, much like in real life. You swear he's there, real every time, but to no avail, he was only an illusion.

Your eyes meet in the mirror, and you quickly shoot away, not wanting him to see the thoughts that brew in your mind, as though you thought he read you like a book. He was sweet, but had a melancholy cloud that followed his every step; he invented the tortured poet.

You try to distract yourself with things like your hair, which you had done hours before, or the lipstick that you knew hadn't smudged, anything to distract you from him and the cool chill he sent up your spine. As you eased your mind, one of the main dancers approached you; this was either going to be great or terrible news.

“Hey girl, Ry’s dance bailed, down with a sickness, we need you to cover for her” Oh god.

“I-is there anyone else? I've never danced with him before” Any excuse to get out of this, you searched your mind for any reason this wouldn't work.

“You're one of our best dancers, you helped with choreo, you know all the parts, you've got this”, she reassures you with a smile.

“Please don't make me. I'm begging,” you plead, hoping it will make this all go away, knowing your fate is already decided.

A foreign but recognised voice cuts through your begging, “Am I that bad of a dance partner?” You turn to him, and his soft smile, but you can sense a slight weight in his words, like it's not some open-ended retaliation, but more of a life-or-death question.

“Oh gosh, Ryan, I'm so sorry, I hope I didn’t offe-”

“Don't worry about it, you're unzipped, turn around”, he replies in a newfound, reassuring voice, still soft spoken but definitely not in a way you know Ryan to be. You turn around at his command, and not long after, he feels his fingers graze your spine, cold and bitter, intoxicating. He fiddles with the zip before pulling it up gently, his other hand coming to hold the small of your back for support. It was loving and completely unexpected.

You feel his hands release you, and before you can turn around to thank him, he's off.

That was the first time he had touched you, let alone spoken a word in your direction, and for some reason, he had to do it while you unintentionally insulted him. If he wasn't warm to you before, there is no chance of getting further with him now.

You watch from a distance as he exits from backstage, probably for a breather or a smoke, you disregard it. It was normal for him these days, happening more and more before shows. Nobody seemed bothered by it, besides the band, their faces overwhelmed with a knowing look that looked more like a grieving look, but again, you disregard it.

Moments later, just as he returns, we are called to the stage, the band leading us on. The crowd grows ten times as loud, even from the mere footsteps of the band members, Brendon greeting the crowd with his welcoming, entrancing introduction.

Just like any other night, the songs start without any dancers at all, but slowly you are all queued up onto the stage, taking your spot out front, or partnered with a member of the band. Usually, it was you and Brendon, which is why he knew your nervous queues, but as you walked on stage, you approached Ryan, brushing his shoulders in that same seductive way you would do with Bren. His eyes land on you, slightly nervous.

Despite both of your flustered states, you know you can only continue, brushing his shoulder, mouth ghosting his neck and cheek. You knew you had grown flushed, but routine almost made you disregard Ryan and his own flush that grew under your presence, plaguing his pale, shimmery skin. You had never been this close, seeing the close details of his face, the speckles in his eyes and his adorable curved nose. Your eyes move down to his lips, biting your own, so soft and plush.

As you look closer, your eyes glue to the edge of his lips, closing in on its red outline, it had a light brown tinge and it began to crust at the corners of his mouth. Before you could look any further, his tongue traced his lips softly. You try to ignore the sight, but you couldn't help but let it sit there for a little longer. Dancers don't have lipstick like that.

That was your first thought, some sort of pash with a fellow dancer, it was only to be expected, but something about it didn't click just right.

The final dance called for you to crouch below Ryan, and so you did, and he met your gaze with his soft brown eyes, slightly panicked. Maybe it was the dance? You knew that had something to do with this new found alertness, and a part of you hoped that was what it was, hoping maybe you had even a sliver of a chance with the unattainable poet, but you knew it couldn't be true. If you could give anyone a chance, you knew it would be the practically mute dancer he attempts to avoid so openly. You wished and hoped, but that reality wasn't one you would get the chance to live, and you knew that was something you had to come to terms with. But as your hand brushed up his thigh and he bites his lip so perfectly, the reality was unset in your mind.

The show concluded after several long hours. If as a dancer you got this tired, you could only imagine how tired it must get performing. You settle on the couches backstage, apart from the rest of the group. You never felt like a good addition, more like a spectator to the more interesting characters among the dancers, and sometimes that was ok, but not tonight.

The band comes back from getting changed, and the room erupts with claps and cheers, Brendon bowing, while Jon, Spence, and Ryan stand and smile, in an attempt to stay humble.

Once the commending was over, the band settled among the Dancers, talking as usual. Brendan comes to sit next to you, rubbing your knee gently.

“You were great, thank you for filling in as Ryan's partner, he thought you'd be a good fit for him” he smiles. Good fit?

“Oh I thought it was just cause I helped with choreo and stuff” you question

“Well, of course you're a great dancer, but Ryan wanted to be paired with you, he thinks you're cool” He nudges you lightly, mostly because he's too tired to go the whole way.

Ryan wanted to be your partner? You look around to find him, spotting his eyes on you first, but this time you don't look away, you remain closed in of his soft brown eyes and long eyelashes. You smile gently, your eyes unconsciously batting softly. He looks away then, not a smile, or a trace of one for that one. Are we sure he chose me?

“Just be careful with him. Hes…hes changed a bit, hes harder to connect with… I don't know” You nod softly in response taking in Brendon's every word.

You get ready with everyone else, however you usually shower last. It's not that you were uncomfortable around the others, more so vulnerable, you needed it to think.

The water rushes down your back, soothing your mind in slow laps of current. You still for a second, letting it overrun the worries you couldn't bury on your own, or at least giving you more of a peaceful mind to think through.

You sing to yourself softly in the shower, another perk of going alone. Every song the band performed remained stuck in your head, especially the parts Ryan would sing, his voice entrancing anyone who heard it.

“Give us this day our daily dose of faux affliction,”

You sang softly, not wanting anyone outside your own chamber to hear. You continue, increasing the volume in small increments as you grow more confident.

Suddenly, a set of footsteps interrupts your private concert, making you come to an abrupt stop.

The person sits down on one of the seats provided in the change room “Don't stop on my account”, the familiar soft spoken voice says

“Ry? I'm sorry, I thought I was the only one who needed to show-”

“You are”, he replies quickly, “I just wanted to listen to the pretty voice”

You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks “You're very sweet”, you reply

“Just honest”

Silence settles, and the water continues to run over your back. His presence takes away any ability to relax, but you try, going about your shower as usual. Suddenly, the thought of his lips from earlier collapses into your thoughts.

“Ry?”

He replies in a gentle hum, reminding you of how soft he could be even when you aren't visible to one another.

“If you don't mind me asking… um… "What was the red on your lips before?” A new silence settles over the room, the only thing that can be heard is the constant flow of water “Um, it's just I thought it could be a dance, which is uh, totally fine, but…I don't know, it seemed different then that”

“It was different then uh, that, I don't have that kind of relationship with any of the dancers right now, just to uh, let you know” he fiddles with his fingers gently “Um but, no, it's uh, it's nothing you need to worry about”

The silence creeps in again, more so when you turn the shower off. You search the shower for a towel, but it's unsuccessful. Shit.

“Hey, um, do you mind passing my towel and clothes in here, Ry?”

“Oh uh- yeah yeah, of course”

He grabs your clothes from next to him, standing up to pass them over, his hand peering over the shower, dropping them into your hands, brushing against each other gently.

“Thanks- oh uh Ry?” You almost forget, the stupid lacy pair of bra and bottoms inside your tote bag “Um, I'm so sorry, but I just have my bra and stuff in my bag by the sink, do you uh, mind passing it over?”

Without any confirmation, his hand reaches over a second time, handing you your blood red underwear and bra.

“Sorry, Ry”, you say softly, like you regret any further word that comes out of your mouth.

“Who's the lucky person who gets to see those?”

Your legs clench together gently, but you manage a chuckle“They were the only ones I had left! The rest are in the wash”

He chuckles too, "They're cute” You blush on the other side of the shower, gently. Secretly, you hoped maybe one day he could see, but you tried to scrub your mind free of the mere possibility that you would have a shot in hell with THE Ryan Ross.

You get changed in a hurry, before opening the door gently. “You didn't have to wait here Ry, you usually avoid dancers, hm?” you tease

“Hah its not dancers, it's just you mostly”, he chuckles

“Wow, thanks, jerk”, you say jokingly, but a part of you gets weighed down; it wasn't all in your head.

“No! No, I mean, not in that way, I just-” he lets out a sigh, as though to recollect his thoughts “I don't mean it rudely, I just find it hard to be around you” he admits

You look at him, confused. Why is that? You wanted to ask, but you are distracted by his deep red eyes.

“Wow, Ry, what's up with your eyes?” Your hand comes up to graze his under eye, but you're quickly halted by his strong grip on your wrist, keeping you in place.

His eyes turn from yours, and that's when it all comes together.

“It was blood, wasn't it” you ask in a confident tone, though you have not been more scared in your life.

All he can manage is to look you in your eyes, his no red eyes filled with worry, as he nods.

His hand drops from yours, only to meet your own face, caressing your cheek gently.

“I need you”, he confesses.

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