You are a journalist for the Daily Bugle in Nueva York, desperate to write about something good to keep your formidable boss from breathing down your neck. You receive a tip-off from a concerned member of the public and begin an investigation. Just what will you discover?
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Minors DNI - Eventual smut and descriptions of violence.
Word count - 4621
Contains - Mentions of rats, particularly dead ones.
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Enjoy! xx
Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7
An empty page on your laptop screen glares back at you, while your boss’s angry yelling still rings in your ears. Multiple obnoxious office phones ringing fills the communal workspace, not permitting you to think clearly. The only luxury that provides you some sliver of sanity is your cup of coffee for you to sip on while you panic internally about what the hell you’re going to write about next for The Daily Bugle.
The blinking, black cursor at the top of your blank document taunts you, pressuring you to write something. But what?
You look ruefully at your colleagues who all appear to be busy with something. Either that or they’re all brilliant actors pretending to be working until they catch a sniff of something vaguely interesting happening in Nueva York.
Opening up your emails, you almost scoff with frustration at nothing new in your inbox. Of course. The distinct lack of unread emails is a further taunt. You are going to have to do some serious digging or intense scraping of the barrel to produce something read-worthy.
Underneath all of your subfolders in your email program, a shared mailbox is displayed with several unread items. You hover your mouse over it. Is the day going so badly that you’re considering looking at what everyone else has overlooked? You click on the mailbox with an indignant eye roll. Yes, the day is going that badly…
Taking a sip of your coffee, your eyes scan the unread items. A couple go straight into the Deleted folder as you see they’re clearly phishing emails that have managed to slip through the filter, but the others seemed legitimate reports from the public.
This mailbox was for Nueva York civilians to email in if they spot anything worth reporting on. Normally it’s full of the usual dog fouling on pavements, inconsiderate parking in the residential streets and general noise complaints. But, one email catches your eye.
“Subject: Dead Rats”
Your brow furrows with confusion at the bizarre subject of the email. Out of curiosity, you click it and have a read.
“Dear Sir / Madam
During my regular work commute over the last few days, I’ve seen a significant number of dead rats in alleyways and subway stations. Obviously they’re pests and some might argue it is a good thing that they’re dropping dead, but I find it alarming. What’s killing them? Is it a deadly virus? Or some strange or troubled individual who takes pleasure and amusement in killing them?”
As you contemplate the email, you absentmindedly chew on the end of your pen. That is a strange occurrence, however you suspect your colleagues have ‘overlooked’ it because of the mention of rats. You’re not too keen on the creatures yourself, but it definitely beats writing about terrible parking for the umpteenth time. Hovering your mouse over the email, you assign it to yourself and then reply to the contact for more information.
Despite the rather grim nature of the job you have assigned yourself, you’re glad that you are out of the office. For a change of scenery, (and a chance to avoid your boss), you hop onto the subway to visit one of the places mentioned by the concerned member of the public.
As the train rattles its way through tunnels under the city, you find yourself surprised that the snaking carriages are relatively busy. You have to be in the office by eight AM and you realise this is the usual rush-hour commute for those who work nine-to-five.
The carriage you are in resembles something close to a tin of sardines, people packed closely together, sacrificing their personal space to get to work on time.
You cling to a pole stretching from floor to ceiling in the train while you’re sandwiched from all sides. This isn’t unusual, but what is, is the person behind you. They had approached as they got onto the train after you did, and have increasingly been pressed further and further against your back since. You hear them sniff occasionally, taking in long drags of air through their nose, to the point you feel your hair is being disturbed by it.
At first, you choose not to challenge it, but after the third time, you turn your head to look at the creepy culprit.
Your jaw drops.
Suddenly, all thoughts of their unusual and intrusive behaviour slips from your mind as you gaze up to a beautiful stranger. Piercing blue eyes lock onto yours, widening as the person behind you realises what it seems like they’re doing. A tall man with a young, pale face framed with long, raven black hair places a large hand over his heart.
“Apologies ma’am - crowds make me nervous and I was practising my breathing techniques to keep calm. I am sorry for causing you concern,” his voice is deep and sultry with warm tones that make you go weak at the knees.
A look of sympathy spreads across your face at his words of apology and you start to feel bad for nonverbally accusing him of sniffing you.
To avoid making the situation worse for the poor man, you give him a reassuring smile. “That’s okay. Do what you need to do. Don’t let me stop you.”
Now it’s your turn to risk looking like a creep as you find yourself unable to take your eyes off him. You estimate him to be just over six-foot tall and well built; his defined muscles creating contours through the polo-neck sweater he’s wearing.
He smiles at you, noticing you’re still looking. “I feel a little better now. But, I thank you for being incredibly sweet and kind for understanding.”
Your heart sings at his words of praise while you are unable to suppress a wide smile in return. You find him undeniably mesmerising, as if you’re under his spell.
As you keep your eyes on him, an awkward silence descends on the cramped place you’re in. You are so enthralled that you forget you’re surrounded in every direction, until you feel the momentum of the train slow down as it approaches its next stop.
“Oh, this is me…” you say as you finally manage to tear your gaze from him, although your heart pounds, mourning the loss of such an attractive specimen for you to look at… That is until he replies.
“Me too, thankfully,” he begins as you more than willingly glue your eyes back onto him again. “The train is a little too busy for my liking.”
After the train comes to a stop, the doors draw open as you both shuffle and nudge your way through. Occasionally, you look back at the handsome man to check on him. A frown of concern forms across your face as you notice he looks overwhelmed. Linking your arm around his, you assist him through the final few people before breaking free and disembarking the train.
A deep sigh of relief comes from your new found friend as he wipes his brow. “Ahh, thank you. You have been most kind,” he pauses as he extends his large, soft, right hand towards yours. “I’m Michael, but you can call me Mike.”
Perhaps this day isn’t quite so bad after all. Work might suck, but meeting a handsome man on a train who seems to like you just as much as you like him is certainly a plus.
“Y/N; nice to meet you,” you reply as you reach out to take his hand to shake it. Before you touch him, something catches your eye.
A concerned-looking couple further down the platform flit from stranger to stranger, carrying a stack of paper each. As they turn to face the other way, you see they’re carrying multiple copies of the same picture, but you’re too far away to see what it is exactly.
Your fingers brush against Mike’s palm before they wrap underneath his hand. To your surprise, he feels cold, the unexpected sensation draws your attention back to him.
A contented smile spreads across his lips. “Sorry if I feel a little cold, I have a blood circulatory condition. Extremities don’t quite get enough blood flow to warm them up sometimes.”
For some inexplicable reason, you decide to try and warm his hand up by squeezing your fingers around his. Suddenly, his body jolts as he instinctively yanks his hand out of yours, air hissing between his clenched teeth.
“Oh!” you gasp slightly, feeling bad that you hurt him, although you don’t know how…
Mike wraps his other hand over the one that hurts. “It’s fine. It’s a paper cut. You just squeezed it, that’s all. You didn’t know,” he says with a reassuring smile, not wanting you to be upset about hurting him.
“Well, I’m sorry all the same,” you reply as you place a comforting hand on his arm.
“No need,” he lets go of his hand and places it over the back of yours.
Silence falls between the both of you again, lost in your shared bubble amongst rushing commuters. As your eyes search his in your brief moment of reflection, you consider who he is as a person. You have only known each other for five minutes, but on the surface he seems like a charming, handsome man who is sensitive, emotionally and physically, despite the tall frame and big, strong build.
The thought of having to go your separate ways saddens you. You want to spend more time with him and get to know him. “Hey, can we exchange numbers?”
Michael double-takes at you in surprise. “Oh, sure, of course,” he takes out his phone and prepares to enter your name and number. “I’ll text you later when I get home.”
As he slides his phone back into his pocket, he places a hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s been an absolute pleasure meeting you Y/N. I look forward to talking with you later,” his warm smile blesses you again.
“Yes, speak to you later,” you reply, sounding hopeful.
Finally, your new friend leaves you as he makes his way to a connecting platform. It seems he has somewhere else in the city to go to.
As your mind defogs from its dreamy state, you remember the two people from earlier handing out pictures. Looking around, you can’t seem to find them, but you notice a piece of paper taped to an underground support column. Depicted on the sheet of A4, is a young man, no older than sixteen, dark skin, brown eyes and curly, black hair. Written underneath in big, red, bold letters: ‘Missing - Miles Morales’. In smaller print are a couple of numbers to call if somebody spots him.
You frown with sympathy. That couple could well have been the missing boy's parents, worried sick about their son. Poor Miles seems to be another person added to the list of recent missing teenagers…
Using your phone, you take a picture of the notice to keep with you - just in case.
As you suspected, the subway station is devoid of dead rats. You imagine public services would dispose of their little corpses before too many people start asking questions.
You reach the surface after climbing the steps from the subway; the cool, fresh, autumnal air rushing against your face. Pulling your light coat tighter around you, you begin your investigations by walking down a street and examining each alleyway closely.
Each alley you have visited so far has been fruitless - or rat-less - and disappointing. A sneaking suspicion fills your mind that this is someone’s idea of a prank to send someone on a wild goose chase. Well, the joke’s on them, because you’ve just got a cute guy’s number that you otherwise wouldn’t have obtained if you hadn’t left the office. A smirk flits across your face as you think about Michael.
Up ahead, something catches your eye, bursting your dreamy bubble. A pest control van is parked further down the street. You see the driver getting out of the vehicle and entering the next alleyway. Quickening your walking pace, you make your way towards the pest control man.
Stepping around the corner, you see him kneeling down next to a couple of dead rats. He pauses as he looks up at you, eyeing you up and down.
Extending him your hand, you begin to introduce yourself. “Y/N, from the Daily Bugle. Would you mind if I ask you a couple of questions about the dead rats you’re finding?”
His eyes flit to your extended hand, but he doesn’t take it. “I’d shake it but I’ve been handlin’ dead rodents all mornin’, but sure lady, fire away,” he replies as he picks up the first rat and examines it.
Reaching into your pocket, you pull out your phone and open up your voice notes app.
“Has every rat you’ve found today died the same way?” you ask as you hold the phone close to your mouth, before moving it towards the pest control man.
Observing the rat in his hand, he checks its body before looking back at you and nods. “Yeah, two puncture marks, probably about an inch in width on every one,” he then picks up the second rat and nods again. “Yep, this one too.”
Puncture marks… you think to yourself for a second. “Like, stab wounds?”
The man shakes his head. “Like teeth, canine teeth perhaps?” he offers.
You would go look for yourself, but you’d rather not get too close to dead things, especially rats... “Perhaps a cat?”
He shakes his head again. “Too wide.”
Your shoulders slump as you frown at the confusion. Something’s biting them, but it’s bigger than a cat. It seems unlikely that a dog would be doing it, but you suppose there’s still a chance…
“Can you tell me anything more about the rats? Is there anything else you’ve noticed about them?”
The pest control man starts to put them in a box, to your greatest discomfort, it seems to be already occupied with several other dead animals. “Yeah, they ain’t juicy.”
You raise a questioning brow at his comment. “Juicy?”
Picking up the box, he stands again, causing you to step back and give him a wide berth. “No blood,” he answers as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“They’re… exsanguinated?” you murmur in surprise, now that is something significant. A cat wouldn’t drain it of its blood…
“What?” he asks as he stuffs the box in the back of his van. “Listen lady, there’s a reason you’re in your job and I’m in mine. Big words ain’t my thing. Do you need to know anythin’ else, or can I go?”
There’s a pause as you think for a second. “Yeah, one last thing. Is it just this part of Nueva York, or are the rat deaths more widespread?”
The two doors at the back of his van close with a clunk before he turns to look at you again. “This place and surroundin’ areas, but not all over the city - thank the Lord,” he answers, sounding tired.
“Okay, thank you,” you reply as you switch off your voice notes on your phone and look around trying to think what to do next. Something strange is going on and now your interest is piqued.
The pest control van drives away, no doubt on its way to look for more dead rats.
What you need now is perhaps something that will show what happened. CCTV from local businesses might help, and luckily for you, a nightclub just across the street might have a camera in the perfect position to see into the alleyway where the two rats met their demise.
Looking at your phone you see that it has just gone nine AM and wonder if anyone might be inside the establishment.
Crossing the road, you approach the nightclub called Las Sombras, its name printed in white text on a black board above the glass double doors. Looking inside all the regular lighting is switched on while you spot someone pottering around at the back.
Your rapping on the glass catches the attention of the short woman inside. Looking rather bemused, she comes to the nightclub’s entrance to unlock the doors and open them.
“Can I help you?” the woman asks as she pokes her head out.
“I work for the Daily Bugle, and I’d like to ask nearby businesses some questions about certain events that have taken place around here recently,” you begin as you put on a friendly face, looking slightly amused with her fashion choices.
The woman with the light-brown styled bob raises a quizzical eyebrow behind her pink, heart-shaped glasses. “What events?” she asks, although she looks approachable, there was an air of suspicion or caution to her voice.
You shiver as a cold breeze washes over you. “I know you’re closed but, can I come in?” you ask, pulling your coat around you a little tighter.
The nightclub employee opens the door wider to allow you in, but closes it behind you again and locks it to stop anyone else from entering.
Warmth blankets you as you step into the building, a nice relief from the elements outside.
“Are you the owner of this nightclub?” you ask, sounding intrigued as you look around. The furnishings were sleek, black and modern. Large, black, electric candelabras hang from the ceiling, giving a slight gothic atmosphere to the establishment. Above the bar was another black board and the bar’s name lit up in LEDs.
“Part owner,” she answers before extending her hand to you. “I’m Lyla.”
Taking her hand in yours, you introduce yourself to her. “You have a partnership in owning this place? Where’s the other owner?”
Lyla smiles at your question. “He won’t be around for a while yet. I tend to do a lot of the admin stuff, taking stock of drinks and doing payroll, while he does the more supervisory stuff when the club is open.”
You nod in understanding before looking at the name above the bar. “Las Sombras… Spanish for the Shadows?”
“Yep, sure is. My business partner chose the name.”
“Moody name,” you comment.
“He’s a moody guy.”
A smirk grows across your face. There’s something about Lyla that you really like. You imagine that she’s a rather fun person to be around.
“So, are you going to continue asking about the club, or ask about what you’re actually here for?” Lyla asks as she rests her hands on her hips, her silk, white blouse shimmers in the light from above.
“Oh, yes…” you begin as you slip your phone out of your pocket again, opening the voice notes app, but you don’t press the record button yet. “Have you noticed anything strange or odd going on here or in the surrounding areas of the city?”
Lyla looks at you blankly - clearly your question hasn’t rung any bells. “Nope. What sort of things have been happening?” she asks in return.
“You haven’t seen an increase in rats, particularly dead ones littering alleyways?”
She shakes her head and gives a shrug. “I’ve not noticed anything.”
Regardless of you liking her, you sense she’s not being entirely truthful. “The nightclub has a CCTV camera that overlooks an alley where two rats died under unusual circumstances, could I take a look at the security footage?”
Lyla chuckles slightly at your question. “What is this, CSI: Rodentville?” she asks as she reaches into her pocket for a set of keys. “Come through to the back and we can take a look.”
The gothic theme seems to diminish the moment you step through the door behind the bar. Keys jangle as Lyla unlocks a glossy white door, revealing a small room mostly filled with a desk equipped with a CCTV monitoring system. Plonking herself down on the chair, Lyla wriggles the mouse on the computer to wake it up while you stand right behind her. “Any idea what time last night your precious rats shuffled off this mortal coil?”
Giving a shrug, you answer: “Dunno, I guess it’ll be when the street is quiet? What time does the nightclub close?”
“Around two AM,” Lyla replies as she enters a time into the software. Footage rewinds from live feed, into the past. People walk backwards at top speed, you even see yourself reversing across the road, back towards the alleyway briefly before it finally stops at the specified time window. Pressing play, both you and Lyla watch the footage intently, leaning in closer to try and spot any minor bit of detail that could end up becoming significant.
To start with, nothing out of the ordinary happens, cars pass down the dark street early in the morning, people amble along the sidewalk, behaving normally. Lyla skips the time ahead slightly, not much has changed, except a discarded paper bag blown by the autumnal wind tumbling across the road.
Another skip forward in time reveals something far more interesting. A young man, who looks lost and distressed, retreating into the alleyway opposite the nightclub. Both you and Lyla lean in even closer to see what the person was up to.
As he looks around, checking his surroundings for his security, you recognise his face. Unlocking your phone you go straight to the last photo you took. “M-Miles Morales?” you splutter in shock, pointing at the screen.
“You know the kid?” Lyla asks, looking up at you.
“He’s missing,” you answer, showing the nightclub owner the picture on your phone before looking back up at the CCTV footage. You continue to watch intently as the boy settles down on the cold, concrete slab, hugging his knees to his chest.
“And the rats were found there?” Lyla inquires as she too retrains her focus back on the screen.
“Yep, in the exact same alleyway…” your brows furrow as you notice Miles looking further into his hiding place as if something has got his attention, but before you see him do anything else, the screen goes black and the machine falls silent.
“Well, shit!” Lyla exclaims in frustration, throwing her hands up in the air. “Damn thing’s been doing this for ages.”
Feeling as though the answers to your questions have slipped from your grasping fingers, your breath falters, the harsh pang of disappointment winding you slightly. “Can’t you bring it back?” your eye twitches with irritation as you work hard on masking it.
Lyla frowns and sighs. “Unfortunately, after a system shut-down, expected or not, all footage is lost and starts recording again from fresh,” she watches your shoulders slump at that revelation. “I know. It sucks - I’m sorry. My business partner hasn’t got round to fixing the issue with it yet.”
Pinching the bridge of your nose slightly, you take a deep breath. At least you have seen the missing kid, that should count for something. You take note of the number in the picture and begin to dial it.
“W-wait, what are you doing?” the nightclub owner asks, her voice shaking slightly.
As you dial the number, you briefly look up at Lyla, “Calling the number on the missing person’s poster,” you answer before looking back down again and pressing the dial button. “Tell them I’ve seen Miles in this area,” you finish as you hold the phone up to your ear and wander out of the room, leaving Lyla on her own.
With no more answers available for your mounting questions, you leave Las Sombras after notifying the police about seeing Miles on the CCTV footage. Feeling as though you have achieved something good, you return to the office with a story developing in your mind, something to write about and a mystery for you to investigate further in the coming days.
After writing an article for the Daily Bugle, you feel you have accomplished even more than giving much needed hope to the parents missing their son, Miles. You cast your eye over your work before you submit it to your formidable boss.
“Pest Control Gone Too Far?
It has been brought to my attention by a concerned member of the public that there has been a sharp increase of rat deaths in Nueva York. Now, some of you might be thrilled at the idea that there are fewer rodents to worry about in the city, however, shouldn’t we ask ourselves why this is happening?
When I first heard that rats were simply dropping dead around the city, my first worry was a potential plague that could affect more than just the city’s rodent population.
Upon my investigations today, I met with an employee from pest control who has been cleaning up the mess as a result of the rising number of deaths, and he has provided some interesting insight.
Each rat that has been found and collected has suffered the same cause of death; two puncture wounds as if bitten, and their blood drained from their small bodies.
Is there a blood-thirsty beast roaming the dark streets of Nueva York who has developed an unquenchable thirst for rats? Or is this someone’s idea of a sick joke?”
Feeling happy with your work, you hit send on your email and wait for your boss’s approval.
After getting Las Sombras’s CCTV recording software back online, and completing several tasks like cleaning and staff payroll, Lyla pulls out her phone, biting her lip with concern.
Her thumb hovers with hesitation over a contact on her phone screen, simply labelled ‘M’. Finally, she gives an exasperated sigh, presses on the number and waits for the call to connect. Several rings fill the air as she puts the phone on loud-speaker and leans against the bar.
A click indicates the call has been answered and a gravelly, deep voice speaks. “What? Couldn’t this have waited until later?”
“No it couldn’t,” Lyla begins, “we’ve got a problem.”
“And what problem is that?” the male’s voice on the other end sounds irritated.
“We’ve got some woman sniffing around asking about dead rats-”
“Dead rats?” the man interjects, “you disturbed me for dead rats?”
“No - but a missing kid is draining the vermin of their blood,” the line goes silent for a moment after Lyla speaks. “The bigger problem is, the woman saw the kid on the CCTV footage when she asked to check it. She wanted to learn more about the damned rats. She recognised him and reported him to the police that he’s in this neck of the woods…”
“Shit!” the male voice exclaims before taking a deep breath. “Why was she poking her nose around our place anyway?” he eventually asks with a tone of simmering annoyance.
“She works for the Daily Bugle-”
“Fuck sake, Lyla!,” he pauses for a second, “please tell me, she didn’t see the kid feast on the rodent…” he growls in a threatening tone.
“No, she didn’t. I subtly kicked the power cable out of the back of the machine before she saw anything…” a sigh of relief came from his end of the line.
“Well - that’s something at least. But guess what? You’re covering for me tonight while I now have to fetch the kid before the police find him…”
“I can do that,” Lyla responds as she pinches the bridge of her nose.
“Did you at least catch the kid’s name?”
“Miles - Miles Morales. His face is all over the news and on missing posters around the city.”
“Good, send me his picture and I’ll go looking for him at sundown.”
“Sure, I’ll do that after the call.”
“Oh, and if that nosey woman comes back. Get rid of her.”
Lyla sighs at her business partner’s words. “Understood…”
Thank you for reading part 1 of Vampire Miguel. I hope you're enjoying it so far.
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It is time to face Morbius and end him once and for all. Will it be plain sailing, or will there be a rocky road ahead?
Please note - This is the end of season 1 of Vampire Miguel. I have interesting ideas for season 2, if people want more... Please let me know what you guys think? If I continue, I will be giving Vampire Miguel a little break, but he will return (if you want him to).
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Minors DNI - Smut and descriptions of violence
Word count - 8410
If you don't want spoilers, avoid reading the contains section below.
Contains - Descriptive fight scenes, moderate descriptions of violence. Brief description of sex.
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Thank you to those who have read and enjoyed Vampire Miguel so far. The likes and re-blogs are very much appreciated.
Enjoy xx
Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6
It feels strange stepping out of Las Sombras. Over the last twenty-four hours, you have been ensconced underground, hidden away, safe from Morbius and his turned creatures of the night. You blink and squint as the daylight makes your pupils shrink, adjusting to the brighter light levels.
Leaving the security of the shelter was simultaneously daunting and refreshing. However, the fact that it was light outside gave you a bit of relief and an extra sense of security. Not to mention that inhaling the cool, crisp autumn air was very much needed. Certainly a lot fresher than the stuffy atmosphere underground.
Both you and Lyla make your way to the station in her car. Miguel strongly advised against either of you using public transport - just to be safe.
Under Hobie’s instruction, you and Lyla meet his contact outside the closest police station to Las Sombras.
At 10am sharp, he stands in his police uniform, wearing a specific scarf around his neck to help you differentiate him from his colleagues. You both were warned that he wouldn’t be sharing his name, but so long as you two can access the CCTV system, you and Lyla didn’t mind.
“I can only guarantee a small window of time for you to have access to this room. So if you can, be quick,” he mutters as he leads you through the station as swiftly as possible, carrying a cup of coffee and waves good morning to passing by fellow cops.
The officer opens the door to a small room equipped with a desk, a computer and a couple of chairs. “This machine is linked to the public CCTV network around Nueva York. If you have a rough area in the city you can start with, you should find the person you’re looking for,” he says as he shuts the door once all three of you have entered. “I’ll take the controls though,” he adds, taking one of the two seats.
Lyla gestures for you to take the other chair and she stands between you and Hobie’s contact.
“So, where am I starting?” he says, looking at you expectantly.
“You met Morbius the other day, didn’t you? Where was that?” Lyla asks, jogging your memory.
Your mind is blown away by the fact that you did indeed meet Morbius just five days ago. And since then, your life has been a dramatic rollercoaster. Your life has been in danger at least three times, you’ve learned how to shoot a gun, learned vampires exist and you’re now dating one - kind of - sleeping with him at the very least…
As you think, a sea of memories swells in your mind. Churning images as you summon snapshots of each one until you finally start remembering where you first met Morbius.
“In the subway, five days ago. Heading to Brooklyn station just before 9am,” you answer.
“Eastbound or westbound? I need to know which platform you arrived at,” the officer asks as he starts entering information into the system.
You had been coming from your place of work… well… your now ‘old’ place of work. “Westbound,” you answer, doing everything you can to stop feeling mad about Jameson.
Hobie’s contact pulls up the camera footage on the screen around the time you provided on the morning five days ago. Both you and Lyla lean forward slightly, as if it will help you spot yourself and Morbius quicker.
Watching the footage, you see Miles’s parents handing out their flyers. Your heart sinks with sadness and guilt now that you know about their son, but are unable to tell them or the police anything about it.
On the screen, lights emerge from the tunnel as the camera on the platform also watches over the tracks. You think this is your train pulling into the station.
Sure enough, you eventually spot yourself leaving a carriage with the beautiful man in tow, except his appearance was a total facade. A lie. A trick. You feel sick at the thought of what that man nearly did to you.
“There,” you point at the screen. “There he is. We need to see where he comes from and where he goes,” you instruct the officer.
He starts working backwards from that point on the CCTV footage. Following his every movement before he finds you on the train.
Obviously, because Morbius is a vampire, his activity lasts throughout the night. You all watch him hop about the city via the subway. Above ground, you observe him taking leisurely walks along busy streets.
Unfortunately for you, he does occasionally slip into alleyways where you suspect he knows he cannot be seen. God only knows what he’s doing, but he does re-emerge again, allowing the three of you to trace his movements even further back.
Footage from the evening before you met Morbius suggests that he stayed in an apartment block neighbouring a shopping and restaurant district all day. The entrance to the building shares the cover of a roof-like feature that also looms over the retail businesses and subway station.
Returning to the point in which you meet Morbius, the officer then follows the vampire’s movements through the subway CCTV network, bringing him full circle back to the very same apartment block.
“I bet that’s where he lives,” Lyla comments as she types the building’s address into her notes.
Fast forwarding on the footage shows Morbius repeatedly coming and going around sunrise and sundown. You presume he chose this specific apartment block because of the cover over the entrance, which buys him some wriggle-room to come and go when the sun is up if necessary.
“Yep; I’d say that’s where the guy lives. Is there anything else you need?” he asks before glancing up at the clock on the wall, checking to see how much time you have been in there.
Catching on to the officer’s awareness of the time, you and Lyla decide you have all the information you need.
The pair of you thank him for his help and promptly leave.
“So, Morbius lives in the Brooklyn shopping district?” Miguel asks as he looks up the address Lyla gave him that evening after all of the vampires wake up and get out of bed. “That’s not too far from here…” he mumbles pensively.
“Makes sense,” Lyla replies as she twirls some microwavable noodles around her fork. “The surrounding area is largely under cover. Fairly central too, with lots of nooks and crannies to hide in and feast on people,” she continues as she takes a mouthful of food.
Miguel couldn’t believe you and Lyla returned with an address for Morbius’s hiding place. His faith in CCTV is now largely improved because of it. There was an underlying sense of negativity that morning as he was falling off to sleep, feeling concerned over how successful the trip to the police station was going to be. There are still certain aspects of modern-day living that he still needs to have a better understanding of and the city’s extensive monitoring system is one of them.
“Now that we have a location, I need to tell you my plan on how we’re going to end Morbius,” he says as he joins everyone else in the communal area. The moment his words leave his mouth the group fall silent; anyone holding their phones puts them away in their pockets, looking as though they want to take part in this important discussion.
You sit beside Miguel, also noticing just how focused the rest of the vampires are, particularly the younger ones. Presumably because they had the most to lose being turned against their will. Their family, their education, and technically the future they had only just begun preparing themselves for. A chill runs down your spine knowing that the innocent youngsters look the most determined with the subject of revenge. But can you blame them?
“As vampires, we can sense others. So, stage one of the plan is to determine roughly where in the apartment building he stays. Myself and Lyla will go ahead early; with the use of sunscreen so I can travel during the day before he wakes up and leaves,” Miguel begins to draw up his plan, his mind putting together his ideas as if they are pieces of a puzzle.
Everyone is listening intently.
“Stage two; after finding his apartment, the rest of the vampires - who still want to be involved - will make their way to the confirmed location as soon as the sun sets,” he pauses for a moment before adding. “There is no shame in backing out. This could get dangerous real fast. Morbius isn’t afraid to use what harms vampires against us. This could result in any one of us being reduced to a pile of ash before the night is through.”
The silence that descends upon the shelter feels heavy with his serious words, his ruby-red eyes wander to each and every person who has said they want to be involved, but no one backs out.
“Stage three; once we’re all together, we barge in. If we make noise, then so be it. We want to catch Morbius unaware before he wakes up and then we end him,” Miguel’s voice carries an air of finality as he speaks.
Hobie, who sits next to Pav and Margot on a couch, leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “Tell us when, and consider it done,” he says with such confidence. All the others nod in agreement with the punk vampire.
“As soon as possible,” Miguel answers, “sundown tomorrow.” He has waited long enough to see the end of Morbius, he wants him gone at the earliest opportunity, for the sake of the city.
The following day, as the vampires sleep, you, Lyla and MJ talk amongst yourselves in the communal area. You watch Lyla pack a bag full of ammunition as there is an overwhelming sense of nervousness shared between all three of you.
It is agreed that MJ will stay in the shelter and keep MayDay safe. You have decided you will join the team of vampires as soon as the sky is dark enough to fly stealthily over Nueva York. Peter will fly holding onto you, making sure you stay with them and under their protection.
“How was Miguel this morning when he got into bed?” Lyla asks. There is no hint of cheeky suggestiveness in her voice. She knows the man is preparing himself for a fight. A fight that could cost him his life. And without him, there will be fewer good vampires to protect the city.
You want to say he was fine. But the way he held you close on the bed, his arms tight and tense to make sure you can’t get away, suggested otherwise. His kisses were plentiful but tender and full of meaning. The feeling of his lips against your skin took your breath away, his affection was his wordless way of saying goodbye if he was to never return.
Miguel continued kissing you, holding you, touching you until his eyes couldn’t remain open any longer, just the thought of it almost makes your eyes well with tears. You don’t want to lose him, but it is a necessary fight, you just hope he and his fellow vampires come out victorious. “He didn’t say much, but I could understand he was preparing for the worst,” you finally answer.
Lyla zips up her bag as MJ gives MayDay a slightly tighter squeeze while she chews on the corner of a child’s book.
“Peter was the same this morning. If Peter is subdued about something, you know it’s serious,” MJ speaks up, her voice sounding slightly shaky with emotion. Much like yourself, MJ is working hard to make peace with the fact that her loved one may not return.
You eventually stand after looking at the time on your phone. It won’t be long till you have to prepare Miguel for the evening ahead. “Gotta go and get Miguel up and slathered with suncream,” you announce, spurring Lyla to get up too.
“Right, while you do that, I’ll prepare a blood pack for Miguel, make sure he’s got enough energy,” she pauses halfway through heading into the kitchen. “MJ; will you be able to do the same for the others when they wake up?”
MJ looks up from MayDay’s book after opening it and reading it to her. “Oh yeah, sure,” she looks back down at the book and runs her fingers along the words, “Incy wincy spider…”
MJ’s words fade as you head back to Miguel’s room, your heart full of anxiousness and anticipation. Every step towards his room brings you closer to waking him up, bringing you closer to the moment he has to leave.
The smell of sunscreen hangs in the air as you step through the door and notice Miguel is already up and dressed.
“Oh,” you say in surprise as you close the door behind you. “You’re already up.”
Miguel approaches, dressed in black, a warm smile on his face - an expression you suspect is an attempt to stop you from worrying. “I just wanted to spend some extra time with you before I have to go,” he replies as he rests his large hands on your shoulders, his thumbs rubbing soothingly.
Like an anxious mother caring for her son, you zip up his jacket as if you believe it will provide him extra protection. “You sure you’ve got everything covered with the suncream, Miguel?” you ask as you smooth your hands over the leather.
He nods at you, feeling thankful that you’re there for him. “Yes, I’m sure. Thank you, mi dulzura,” he replies as his arms slowly wrap around you, holding you close. Long fingers tangle in your hair as he gently pulls to make you look up at him. “You take such good care of me,” his voice is merely above a whisper.
You feel heavy - relaxed - but heavy and woozy. So woozy that you fail to notice the significance of his eyes glowing. To you, they are just beacons, commanding your attention, something you have no trouble giving to him.
Miguel’s arms tighten around you as your legs start to lose strength. “I’m going to take care of you now,” he mumbles, but you don’t really notice the words, except for the vibrations in his chest soothing you.
Each blink gets longer as your eyelids feel heavier, the pounding of anxiousness in your heart has gone, you feel at peace and safe.
Now there’s weightlessness and the endless sea of darkness before you just after Miguel leans in to give you a tender, loving kiss…
“Y/N!” a young girl’s voice pierces the darkness in which you are unable to tell just how long you have been lost within. However, when you hear the voice call out again, it starts to sound clearer, and your body doesn’t quite feel so heavy.
You feel tremors happening occasionally each time this mysterious voice speaks.
“He’s done the same to Y/N, guys. She’s out cold,” the voice calls out again, sounding urgent and concerned which is starting to affect you.
Eventually, you realise the void shrouding you is a dreamless sleep, and the tremors are caused by someone trying to shake you awake.
Everything still seems heavy, but your limbs slowly feel as though life is coming back to them.
Sensing that you’re stirring, the person shakes you again, strengthening your connection with the waking world.
Finally, after a struggle, you prise your eyes open, your vision unfocused, making you see double.
“Y/N!” the voice calls out, which after several moments of heavy blinking, you come to recognise that it is Gwen that has been trying to rouse you. Soon after, you discover that she’s kneeling next to you on Miguel’s bed.
Your muscles reluctantly move as you try to sit up, Gwen gives you support, her hand resting on your shoulder.
“Where’s Miguel?” you ask, your voice hoarse from being in deep sleep. There’s a slight throbbing in your head as the final effects of the impromptu slumber wears off.
“We guess he’s taken off and left us all behind,” Peter suddenly speaks up, making you look around the room to find everyone also standing in Miguel’s private quarters.
“Dude thinks he’s some kind of hero,” Hobie grumbles as he stands there, arms folded, his face a picture of disappointment.
“I get you’re mad, Hobie. We all are to an extent,” Lyla interjects as she tries to squeeze through the crowd of vampires so she can be heard. “He thinks that he’s responsible for Morbius and doesn’t want anyone getting hurt or killed because of his mistake.”
The more people talk, the more awake you feel and your memory starts to return. “Miguel hypnotised me off to sleep, didn’t he?” you mutter, sounding slightly betrayed.
“He did it to Lyla, MJ and MayDay too, to make sure he could leave without anyone arguing against his own plans,” Peter wades back into the conversation.
A sense of hopelessness floods you, knowing that Miguel has gone to face this fight on his own. Either an exceedingly brave or foolish thing to do. “What do we do?” you ask, looking up at Lyla and Peter, the two other senior members of the group.
They glance at each other and give a nod before looking back at you.
“We continue with stage two of the original plan,” Lyla answers.
“Except, you and Lyla drive to the location while we fly. Both of you will be equipped with guns so you can protect yourselves,” Peter adds before looking at his phone. “It’s nearly sundown; we should get ready to go.”
It has been slow progress, but Miguel gradually zigzags his way up the staircase of the apartment block. Sweeping along every floor to detect any sign of Morbius.
He hates the fact that he hypnotised you and the other two human women to sleep in a bid to slow the rest of the vampires down. He knows you all will be mad at him, but it is for the best - in his opinion. He can take Morbius out, and everyone is safe.
Under his jacket is a holster and a sheath carrying a gun loaded with silver bullets along with a silver knife. Two weapons are better just in case the one fails.
He gives a polite nod to other residents as he passes them in the corridors while his senses stretch as wide as they can, like feelers to pick up any trace of the evil vampire.
Stepping onto the next floor, his brows furrow as he picks something up - a mental signature of another vampire nearby, and it feels exceedingly familiar. He just hopes that Morbius isn’t awake to detect Miguel. Unfortunately for him, however, it has taken him far longer than he anticipated. But knowing that he is knee-deep in his own plan, he might as well continue to locate Morbius and try to put an end to him. Hopefully, by the time the rest will inevitably show up, Morbius will be nothing but a bad memory.
Miguel’s senses tell him that his long-lasting enemy is on the same floor as him. He hovers by each door, his hands casually nestled in his jeans pockets while he listens, feels and sniffs with his abilities for Morbius.
He finally finds a door that causes his vampiric senses to fire on all cylinders. Alarm bells, whistles, and flashing lights explode in his mind as he looks at the door in question.
A tentative listen through the thick wood doesn’t betray much as to what’s going on inside, but he knows Morbius is there.
Remembering that you zipped up his jacket, his hand slowly and quietly pulls it down until it hits the end, letting the leather garment open.
Feeling thankful once more that his dead heart isn’t hammering inside his chest, he focuses on the task at hand. Raising a leg, he delivers a powerful kick to the door, crunching the frame with the devastating blow.
Miguel moves quickly. Drawing his gun from the holster under his jacket, he enters the apartment.
Inside, it’s dark and silent. Curtains are drawn to keep the light out during the day, but the glow of the sun around the edges is almost nonexistent.
He stands in the open-plan kitchen and living room, poised to shoot anything that moves. His head turns left and right, his keen red eyes scanning his surroundings.
Two doors lead out of the kitchen area, one to his left and his right. One of these rooms could have Morbius sleeping within them - if the apartment door being kicked in didn’t wake him.
While holding the gun with one hand, the other reaches under his jacket for the silver blade as he stalks deeper into the apartment. He’s now prepared for long and short-range combat before turning the door handle.
The door swings open, revealing a tiled bathroom and sadly, not a slumbering vampire.
Suddenly, in his mind, he feels movement behind him. Miguel spins around, taking a rushed aim and firing just before he’s struck heavily with a gnarled fist in the face. The bullet lodges itself into the wall across the kitchen.
Despite reeling from the blow, Miguel slashes with the blade with unfocused vision, luckily snagging it on his attacker’s arm. A shrill, monstrous scream fills the air as the metal burns the vampire’s flesh.
Time is of the essence. He can still only sense one vampire; he’s certain that it’s Morbius that he’s facing.
His right hand presses forward, aiming the gun at where he thinks is the heart of his enemy. He wishes that his vision would clear more quickly. The kind of punch he took would have killed a human outright; it was bound to take a moment or two to recover fully. This does tell Miguel one thing however: Morbius is even stronger than the last time they fought…
Before he can pull the trigger again, a wing shoots out from Morbius’s back, shunting Miguel deeper into the bathroom. The gun and the silver blade fall to the floor with a loud clatter.
He soars backwards, hitting and denting the wall behind him, and then collapses into a bathtub as dust and cracked tiles fall on top.
After recovering from being sliced by the knife, Morbius stops applying pressure on his now healed wound and rushes forward to snatch up the dropped weapon, raising it to strike back.
Looking like a deer caught in headlights, frozen in surprise and fear, Miguel’s mind begins to frantically search for a solution.
As Morbius plunges the blade down towards his victim, the tables turn. It is now he that is shrouded in whirling black mist. Morbius may have managed to stab Miguel before, but this time, his foe is armed with the same trick he usually plays. The bath is now empty, except for the knife wedged firmly through the plastic.
More mist materialises from behind Morbius followed by a hard kick and a grunt sends him crashing into the tub.
Wrenching the shower head from the wall, Miguel turns on the water at full flow. A hateful expression is plastered across his face, his fangs bared threateningly as he aims it down on his enemy.
The bathroom fills with Morbius’s screams of agony as he’s doused with rushing water, the sound makes the corners of Miguel’s lips slowly tug upwards into an evil grin. He watches with glee as his enemy curls up in a defensive ball, steam rising from his body as his flesh burns and stings.
Keeping the shower head trained on him, Miguel reaches down to the floor to pick up the gun. As fun torturing his enemy may be, he cannot lose sight of what he came here for.
The soaked and scalding situation Morbius has found himself in is not lost on him. Once again, Miguel has managed to debilitate him with the use of flowing water. Only this time, it doesn’t quite match the torrent of a fast-flowing river.
Old, ripped wings burst out and wrap around Morbius and burn as they protect his body, buying him time to summon the energy to vanish.
“No!” Miguel yells as he stands up straight again, taking a potshot at Morbius out of desperation. Another loud crack fills the air as the bullet soars through another bout of black mist and punches a hole through the tub instead.
Tossing the shower head into the bath, Miguel picks up the knife from the tub and storms out of the room, not giving a damn that he has left the water running.
Morbius’s presence feels strong. He’s still close by.
The kitchen is empty, which only leaves Morbius’s bedroom behind the remaining door in the apartment.
Hasty footsteps thunder across the floor as Miguel charges into the last room, sending the door swinging off of its hinges.
A brilliant purple light immediately floods the room, making him instinctively flinch, expecting to feel the skin on his face and hands burn. Clearly this is a trap set by Morbius if anything like this was to happen.
When Miguel notices the distinct lack of agony when the UV rays don’t burn him, he lets out a cruel laugh. Once again, sunscreen has proven itself useful.
Drunk on the feeling of having an advantage over Morbius, he vanishes and reappears behind the bright UV lamp where his foe hides.
Planting his booted foot against the still soaked vampire, he shoves him backwards into a dresser, making it thud loudly against the wall. “That won’t work on me today, Morbius,” he growls with a victorious grin as he raises his gun.
Despite the UV light not paying off, Morbius did not show fear - in fact, he wears an expression more like annoyance and irritation.
Without further deliberation, Miguel pulls the trigger only for it to click uselessly in his hand as the mechanism inside jams.
His stomach lurches like he has mis-stepped going down the stairs, the perfect moment to kill Morbius slipping out of his clutches. “FUCK!” he yells as he pulls the trigger again, willing for the firing pin to hit the cartridge inside.
Realising his time is not over yet, Morbius lashes out, grabs the support of the UV light and takes a violent swing as he stands back up abruptly. The collision knocking Miguel backwards, his head recoiling sharply before he collapses onto the bed. The furniture cracks loudly, the impact of the giant falling onto it causing the structure underneath the mattress to buckle.
Tossing the light aside, Morbius clambers on top of Miguel, using his clawed spindly fingers to prise the weapons from his hands. The gun is now useless, but the knife is still a threat - but could also be useful, depending on who’s on the receiving end.
A battle of strength ensues as the pair struggle to turn the blade towards the other. Fangs bared, the both of them snarl as the red in their eyes flash dangerously.
The tip of the knife inches closer to Miguel’s chest. His shuddering hands grip onto Morbius’s wrists, desperate to hold him back.
With a roar of sheer power, he manages to roll the deceptively strong, evil vampire onto his back, making an effort to turn the blade towards his enemy with one hand while the other punches hard against his face; payback for the dirty UV light move.
The knife slowly turns, twisting downwards towards Morbius’s chest, suspended above him tauntingly. The punch weakened his arms as he felt his cheekbone smash under the devastating force of Miguel’s fist.
A look of hesitation flashes across Morbius’s face, he’s once again on the losing side as he tries to push back the knife that is hanging perilously close above his dead heart.
Another swift punch comes from Miguel, his enemy catching on that each blow makes the knife drop an inch closer.
It is like Miguel can see the cogs turning in Morbius’s mind. “Don’t you dare!” he hisses as he pushes harder, every muscle tensing. The look on his enemy’s terrifying face tells him he’s desperately considering vanishing.
With the extra effort, a pin-pricking sensation is felt through his clothes, starting to bite into his skin and burn immensely. One more hard push and he’ll be a pile of ash.
Knowing that he will surely lose in this position, Morbius retreats. Black mist engulfs Miguel as the knife plummets into the mattress, slicing cleanly through the sheets.
Angry red pierces the darkness in Morbius’s room. Miguel is beyond seething. Without giving himself any time to think, he vanishes too, bursting in and out of existence around the building until he can lock onto his enemy.
His senses tell him Morbius is on the roof. Black mist swirls and licks around his incensed form as he materialises and clocks his foe taking flight.
Wings sprout from his back, beating the air, sending Miguel soaring into the night. With his bat-like appendages in much better condition in comparison to his enemy’s, he catches up with just a few well-timed flaps.
Sharp claws grapple onto Morbius’s ankle and pull him down to Miguel’s level. A mid-air clash begins against the inky-black sky while crowds of civilians amble from shop to shop below.
The airborne skirmish halts when Miguel seizes Mobrius’s neck, his extended claws slice into his foe’s flesh as his fingers squeeze hard.
Yells of agony from the evil vampire echo between the buildings in the shopping district making shoppers below look upwards and gasp and scream.
Miguel tuts with frustration; he did not want an audience, but there is no point crying over spilt milk. There are more important matters to tend to: killing Morbius.
He’s got his enemy right where he wants him, now’s the time to strike while the iron is hot. But his eyes widen when his free hand clasps around nothing above the sheath, realising that in his hurry to locate Morbius, he left the knife firmly wedged into the bed in the vampire’s apartment. He has made a monumental error, costing his revenge.
A dark chortle fills his ears, mixing in with more shrieks of panic and fear from below. “It appears you have made a mistake, Miguel,” Morbius growls before unleashing a heavy blow to Miguel’s face.
“Ah!” the failed hero’s head snaps to the side as he lets out a grunt and releases Morbius from his grip. The sudden pain in the side of his head makes his beating wings falter.
The pair drop lower towards the street below as pedestrians and shoppers scatter.
The tables have turned for Miguel. He was dealt the winning hand, armed with the element of surprise, a gun and a silver knife… and it has all been wasted by a moment of bad luck.
He kicks himself for trying to play the ultimate hero, to protect everyone and refusing to enlist the help he had at his disposal.
Morbius exacts his revenge by gripping Miguel’s neck, letting his claws now sink deep into his skin.
A growl turns into a yell of agony, before his enemy sends him hurtling down onto the concrete below; some lucky pedestrian just manages to get out of the way in time.
Upon impact, the concrete cracks and crumbles under Miguel’s sheer weight and the force with which he was thrown by Morbius. His back arches in pain as he lands awkwardly, knocking the wind out of him. His vision blurs as he bangs his head again so soon after the strike just a few moments ago.
Without a care in the world, unafraid of showing who he really is, Morbius lands on his feet, wings spread wide and the gnarled monster out on full display.
Civilians recoil with fear and disgust, but cannot bring themselves to run away, as if their sudden movement will make them a target.
The more daring amongst them reach for their pockets and pull out their phones, recording this spectacle from behind cover - if they could find any.
Walking coolly past just one of the few trees dotted along the paved walkway, Morbius takes hold of a branch, using his increased strength to wrench it from the trunk. A loud snap echoes between the front of the shops on either side of them.
“To think you offered yourself on a plate to me, makes this all the sweeter,” Morbius sneers, however there is a look of victory plastered all over his face as he looks down upon the dazed and agony-ridden Miguel.
Snapping off a bit of the branch in his hand, Morbius fashions a stake as he finally reaches Miguel. He sinks to his knees on top of the dazed vampire and places his weight on his enemy’s wings, wearing an expression of relief as if he has just completed a marathon.
This rivalry, two centuries long, is about to end finally. A costly mistake Morbius made is about to be righted.
He raises his arms, holding the stake above his head as Miguel struggles to see. The good vampire knows he’s in trouble but the splitting pain in his head renders him useless.
“You nearly bested me, I’ll give you that. But let’s be honest, I was always going to reign superior,” the blurry-looking Morbius hisses, although the red in his eyes are unmistakable.
In Miguel’s final moments, he thinks of you as he feels the position of Morbius’s body change suddenly. He can’t see what Morbius has in his hands, but he knows it isn’t good.
Everything Morbius has had to endure for two hundred years after nearly dying in the river, has been leading to this moment. His victory in the palm of his hand.
Morbius plunges the stake downwards towards Miguel’s heart…
A loud crack is followed by what feels like Morbius’s head splitting into two makes him stop and let out an anguished scream.
You have arrived on the scene just in the knick of time, carrying a baseball bat, followed by the others. Any second later, there would have been nothing but a pile of ash where Miguel lays now.
Seeing Miguel stuck, unable to defend himself flipped a switch in your head. Lyla had already provided you with the weapon concealed in her car, all you needed was motivation, and boy did you find it.
Before Morbius could kill your vampire boyfriend, you raced up to them undetected, and swung for your life - well, Miguel’s life.
The evil vampire scurries away, covering his caved head with his arms before taking off. A portion of the remaining observing civilians disperse away from him. You may not have vampiric strength but you caught him off guard and unprepared.
With slightly recovered vision, Miguel sits up and squints, recognising your scent immediately. “Y/N?!”
You look down at him and offer your hand to help him up. But you also have half a mind to bonk him on the head with the bat too.
To say that you’re mad at him is an understatement.
As Miguel slowly rises from the hole in the concrete, you watch the rest of the vampires descend upon Morbius like a hungry pack of wolves, with Hobie leading the charge, carrying his twin blades.
While a second vampiric skirmish begins, you hear Lyla’s voice yell at the members of the public, ordering them to leave and steer clear. Miguel breathes a sigh of relief when he starts to see the public come to their senses and move away.
“You good?” you ask Miguel as he rubs the back of his head, the remnants of his dazed state slowly slipping away.
“Yeah,” he answers as he watches the swarm of determined and angry vampires vanish and reappear in a cloud of swirling mist above.
You don’t want him to go, but you know he should. Your hand clutches his arm as you silently push him forward, but to your surprise, he stops and looks back at you.
He draws you in for a heartfelt kiss on your lips before he presses his forehead against yours and clasps your hands in his. “I’m sorry.”
Then, you feel his lips press against your forehead as he kisses you again before you feel his wings beat air at you.
As he takes flight, his regained vision allows him to lock onto the fight ahead. He hears Morbius’s howls of pain as everyone rips into him, throwing him between them like some vicious game of Pass the Parcel.
Every vampire Morbius had turned, that Miguel took under his wing, wanted a slice of revenge. He finally came to realise he couldn’t deny them that and assumed that all of them would be mad at him, and rightfully so.
But what matters now is seeing to it that Morbius does not escape tonight. His only way out of this is his ashes being scattered by the autumn breeze.
As you watch Miguel’s large form enter the fray, you soon realise some of Morbius’s cronies have finally come to his aid.
You hear a hiss behind you. Swiftly spinning around you gasp in shock as you see red eyes, sharp fangs and claws descend upon you before a shot rings out from behind. Their eyes go wide before they dissolve into ash.
Lyla approaches soon after, a smoking gun in her hand. “I think there’s more coming; here,” she says as she pulls out a second gun from her back pocket and hands it to you. “That bat won’t beat them all off.”
The baseball bat clatters against the concrete slab as you drop it, take the weapon and prime it.
“We need to stop as many as we can from helping Morbius in that fight. Looks like they’re giving him a good run-around,” Lyla continues as you see sudden movement behind her.
Raising your gun, you take aim and pull the trigger. The vampire's ashes fall at Lyla’s feet just as she turns to see what you shot at.
Back up in the air, the sound of gunshots reaches Miguel’s ears. He glances down towards the noise and can see more trouble is coming from under the cover over the shopping district; but it looks like you and Lyla have it handled, for now.
Worry mounts in his mind however. He doesn’t want you both to be overwhelmed but equally, he can’t let Morbius escape.
With the prolonged fighting, teleportation and use of vampiric strength, Miguel can sense Morbius’s energy dwindling. And if he can sense it, the others can too.
It is like there is an unspoken understanding between them all to tire him out completely, to make it certain that Morbius cannot get away.
Suddenly, a feminine scream catches his attention.
Looking around desperately to spot the source, he discovers Gwen had received a hard punch to the face, sending her plummeting towards the ground.
Both Miguel and Miles dive fast to catch her before he hears Hobie yell out his name and point at an escaping Morbius.
He stops and looks up. It seems Morbius is seizing an opportunity. Miguel cannot let him slip through his fingers again, knowing that Miles will continue to swoop low and save Gwen in a daring dive.
Hobie draws his blades as he flies after the weakened evil vampire. “Catch!” he shouts as he hurls one blade far over Morbius’s head with great effort, the sharp metal glinting as it catches the moonlight with each revolution in the air.
Miguel knows exactly what Hobie has planned.
He vanishes in smoke, picturing exactly where he wants to be.
As the mist clears again, a terrified Morbius halts before him, tattered wings splaying wide to slow himself down.
Miguel raises his hand and expertly catches the blade’s handle before thrusting it forward into his enemy’s heart.
At the exact same time, Hobie teleports behind and stabs it into Morbius’s back.
The moment the silver blades connect in the middle, Morbius chokes and splutters, his red eyes fixed on Miguel’s, before his old enemy at long last disintegrates.
They did it. It’s over.
Miguel’s raised arm lowers as he starts to process what’s happened. It doesn’t seem real.
Ash swirls gracefully in the wind as it falls to the ground, scattering the remains of Morbius far and wide - not that Miguel particularly notices this.
He is so deep in his state of disbelief, that he doesn’t hear the cheers from the other vampires until his feet touch the ground and his wings stow away.
The silver blade slips from his loose fingers, clattering on the pavement as his eyes lock onto you.
It was you who flipped the fight back in his favour. It was you who saved his life.
He rushes to you, his arms scooping you up and holding you tightly against him.
Not a single word is uttered, but you know through his hold on you alone that he is truly grateful.
You return the embrace, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Of course you’re mad at what he did to you, but you’re certain he knows it and he’s already apologised.
If truth be told, he’s grateful for everyone. Everyone did their bit during the fight. If he hadn't been such a foolhardy man and had stuck to the original plan, the fight might have been over without any complications.
Now, everyone has landed and began to group up around the both of you. Peter and Hobie pat him heavily on the back while the younger vampires rejoice.
Miguel puts you back down as he watches a thunderous Lyla approach.
Back in the shelter, Lyla had been the calmest of all, even defending Miguel when others expressed their disappointment or anger over him leaving early.
But you find yourself shocked to witness Lyla lash out and hit her good friend. She is much smaller than Miguel, making her violent act look a little comical, but there was a nasty jab in her punch which connected with Miguel’s ribs.
“Oof!” he grunts in surprise, it didn’t particularly hurt.
“Why did you go and do that, you fool?!” she hisses as she now unleashes multiple strikes on him, one after another. “You nearly got yourself killed! How dare you send me to sleep! I’m gonna kick your fucking ass for that; just you wait!—“
Miguel simply allows Lyla to work out her frustrations until she dissolves into tears. Her hammering fists give up their abuse before slipping her arms around his waist and hugging him.
He pats her reassuringly on her shoulder as he gives everyone else an awkward look. “You can all beat me up later,” he says as a sniffling Lyla slowly pulls away before giving him one last well deserved whack.
Miguel sends the rest of the vampires back to the shelter, but he wants to keep you and Lyla with him while he returns to Morbius’s apartment.
Before Hobie left with the others, he told Miguel he called in a favour with his police friend again and promised there wouldn’t be repercussions with the law enforcement.
That was a load of weight off his mind. If things had gone his way, the killing of Morbius would have happened in the privacy of his apartment but, obviously things had to go wrong.
Entering the now deserted apartment, the faint sound of running water comes from the bathroom, reminding him that he left the shower running.
Lyla goes to turn it off, leaving you alone with Miguel.
You feel his fingers tentatively brush against yours, almost as if he wants to see how you are but is too scared to ask you, in case you go and do something similar to what Lyla did earlier.
To ease his concerns, your digits reply by hooking themselves around his while your thumb runs over his rigid knuckles. You feel him relax and relief at your touch.
The open-plan living room and kitchen looks relatively normal - nothing suspicious or interesting to note.
Miguel doesn’t exactly know what he’s looking for, but this is his only chance to explore his old enemy's home.
Lyla returns and the three of you enter Morbius’s bedroom. The light from the UV lamp shines up to the ceiling as it lays on the floor.
You flip the main light switch on, illuminating the entire room.
Your gaze falls onto the twisted bedsheets pinned down onto the mattress by a knife, telling you there was a close fight in here too.
While you’re preoccupied with the look of the bed, Miguel and Lyla observe the walls now that you all can see properly with the light on.
“What’s this?” Miguel asks, thinking out loud as he approaches a wall.
Both you and Lyla take a look, too.
Dozens of newspaper clippings are stuck to the wall with pins. Each one talking about the same man: Doctor Otto Octavius.
You wrack your brain, trying to think where you’ve heard that name before…
“Why was Morbius interested in a nuclear physicist?” Miguel mutters with confusion.
Nuclear physicist… “Oh!” you gasp when you remember.
Both Lyla and Miguel look at you.
“I wrote about him the other day,” you begin to explain. “He’s a nuclear physicist who is soon to win a Nobel Prize in physics. But not only does he specialise in nuclear physics, he has also dabbled with biology.”
Miguel is silent for a moment as he struggles to grasp the link.
“Perhaps…” Lyla joins in, “Morbius was starting to explore other avenues in his search for a cure?”
“You think Morbius was going to approach a scientist to help cure him?” Miguel questions Lyla before glancing up at the newspaper clippings again, searching for more clues.
“Well, his own theory never cured him. Perhaps he was considering going down a more scientific route?” Lyla responds as she looks up Doctor Octavius on her phone.
You gasp again as another thought enters your mind. “Morbius may not have had the chance to speak to Octavius, but you do.”
Your boyfriend glances at you suddenly. A glimmer of hope shines in his eyes. “You think I have a shot at getting rid of this curse?”
There is a moment of silence as you reconsider your thoughts, but eventually, you take his hand in yours. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
Miguel’s lips press into a thin line as he ponders a life free from vampirism. Could it be possible? You’re right though: he won’t know the answer unless he does something about it.
With a quiet nod, Miguel reaches up and rips every article of the scientist off the wall. Morbius won’t be needing them any longer…
Naturally, the news channels were abuzz with fresh claims of the existence of vampires over the next couple of days.
While the government works harder to quash the new videos surfacing on the internet of the final vampiric showdown, more and more people are starting to believe that they’re being lied to.
Some civilians naturally voiced their concerns, while others praised the vampire group for ridding Nueva York of what looked like a ghastly beast.
Alongside the newly surfaced videos came refreshed campaigns to continue the search for the missing youngsters.
A few people who watched these videos on V-Tube, the vampire channel on YouTube, claimed that they recognised their missing friends as those who took part in the vampiric battle.
Of course this development concerned Miguel most of all. But with the youngsters’ parents being given fresh hope that their kids are still in the city, you and Lyla convince him to release them.
Although, while doing so, he promises them all that the shelter of Las Sombras will always be open for them should they ever need it.
Now that the city is free from Morbius and peace has been restored, you decide to get back into work. It doesn’t take much for Lyla and Miguel to convince you to work for Las Sombras nightclub after reopening.
With the government still pissed at you for writing your open letter for the Daily Bugle, no other newspaper in Nueva York wants to hire you. But, you’re not too upset about it.
Working at the nightclub means you work with Lyla. The both of you get on amazingly well and act as partners in crime to tease Miguel. And, of course, you get to see your boyfriend too after he rises from his daily slumber.
Like every other new couple, you and Miguel are besotted with one another. Perhaps your bond together is stronger than most; probably due to the things you have been through together, and ultimately you let him feed from your neck, before he makes slow and tender love to you.
With an empty shelter, you and Miguel use every space available to express your intimate desires.
He takes you on the sofas in the communal area, on the kitchen counter and in the bath, giving you a new reason to start having more of them, especially when Miguel is involved.
Feeling the warm water hug around your body while you’re pressed against his makes you feel weak and soft like melting butter. And adding his face full of pleasure to the mix as you slowly ride him - being careful not to slosh the water over the sides and flood the bathroom, sends exquisite tingles spreading throughout your body.
Miguel has enjoyed a couple of months of well-earned peace. Aside from tending to his vampiric needs like sleeping during the day and feasting on blood, he has wanted to do very little with the subject of vampirism.
He simply wished to enjoy his time with you, beginning a new chapter in his life until he is struck with the unpleasant thought that he will end up watching you grow old if the both of you stay together.
Remembering that he watched his beloved daughter and brother be consumed by the passage of time, he realises that he cannot live through that again. And it is that realisation that makes him sit at his desk, open his drawer and take out the newspaper clippings. His red eyes repeatedly trace over Doctor Otto Octavius’s name, entertaining the idea that he may be able to provide a cure…
And that's season 1 wrapped folks! Now tell me, do you want another season? Lmk!
Vampire Miguel has surpassed Pilot Miguel in size, and I thought that series was huge! If you haven't read it, part 1 is here.
124 pages, 63,860 words and have been writing it since early September 2024. It has been an interesting journey to say the least, but has been a fun AU to explore!
Buy me a coffee! (And gain access to my discord)
Thank you to those who enjoyed the series. Likes, comments and re-blogs are always appreciated.
I have a different series in mind which is currently in the works, so stay tuned on my Twitter, or if you're in my discord, you'll hear progress on the new series there too. ;)
The group of vampires work together to learn a new trick and there's trouble with the Daily Bugle, how will you negotiate it?
Minors DNI - Smut and descriptions of violence
Word count - 10,712
Contains - Confrontation with the boss. Smut - oral and penetrative sex
If you enjoy this work, please consider liking, commenting and re-blogging. Many thanks. xx
Enjoy xx
Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5
Miguel observes you as you lay in his bed, a content smile spreads across his face as he admires how comfortable you look. You’re sleeping soundly after another passionate evening shared between the both of you. He loves how your hair splays around your head on his pillow, how his sheets cover your naked body, accentuating your curves.
You turn on your side, facing him while you sleep.
He should get up soon; he has to contact Peter and tell him what’s been happening. Parts of him consider having the family of three stay in the shelter too, just to make sure everyone he knows and cares about is safe.
He leans over you as gently as possible so as to not wake you and tenderly plant kisses down your arm before climbing off the bed.
Clothes are all over the floor, making him chuckle slightly as he remembers how the pair of you tried to subtly enter his room without the others noticing. The moment his door was shut, you both were all over each other, ripping clothes off and kissing passionately.
He finds some new clothing to wear and puts his worn clothes in his washing hamper. This evening, he chooses a red, long-sleeved shirt which hugs him in all the right places. Once fully dressed, he quietly opens the door and shuts it, leaving you to sleep on in peace.
As usual, the youngsters have taken root at the communal area, all except one. Miguel steps out of his room and watches in a bemused manner as Miles figures out he can scale the walls.
“Hey, check this out. I’m like a spider!” he chuckles as he manages to get a little higher. The others all lazily turn their heads up to observe Miles.
“~Spider-Man, Spider-Man. Does whatever a spider can.
Spins a web, any size. Catches thieves just like flies.
Look out! Here comes Spider-Man,~”
Miles makes up a super hero theme tune on the spot as he keeps climbing while most of the other youngsters laugh. Hobie, on the other hand, lets out a friendly scoff. “Spider-Man? Sounds bonkers mate.”
Pavitr turns around fully on the couch, kneeling on the cushions to take a look at Miles. “Ohhh, imagine! Slinging webs, swinging between buildings; the sky’s the limit,” he speaks with wonder as he spreads his arms wide gesturing to the vastness of the city skyline.
A cushion goes soaring through the air and smacks the back of Pavitr’s head as Miles jumps back down to the floor.
“Hey! Who threw that?” he asks as he grabs the cushion and looks accusingly at Hobie, who then points at Peni idly playing on a handheld gaming device. “You could have messed up my amazing hair!” he tosses the cushion at Peni which flies directly into her face as she drops her game in her lap.
“ACK!” she yelps as she springs up onto the couch, ready to launch the cushion back at Pavitr. Unfortunately for her, Miguel intercepts by seizing it and raises it up in the air, making her dangle below, kicking wildly.
“Pav; it was Hobie. I saw him,” he says to intervene.
A light growl comes from Peni who wrenches the offending cushion out of Miguel’s grasp and takes a swing at Hobie.
“Tch; snitch!” he retorts as he takes cover from Peni’s onslaught of attacks. Miguel shrugs and heads into the kitchen, leaving them to it while all the others join in with the hilarity and chaos in the communal area.
Lyla turns around after loading the washing machine as she hears Miguel enter the kitchen. Then, she folds her arms and leans against the wall, observing Miguel as he grabs a blood pack out of the fridge. “So? Spill the beans,” she says as she raises an expectant eyebrow while a yelp followed by a crash is heard from outside in the communal area.
He looks at her quizzically as he tosses the pack on a glass plate and shuts it in the microwave. “What do you mean?” he asks as the drum in the washing machine starts to spin, joining in with the sound of the microwave heating his meal. A cushion flies past the kitchen door.
“What really happened at Y/N’s home? You sly dog,” she grins and wiggles her eyebrows.
Apart from the constant noise of the kitchen appliances and the hooliganism going on outside, silence falls between the pair. Miguel, too, folds his arms and sits on the counter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies coolly, doing his damndest not to appear flustered by dragging his phone out of his pocket to type a message to Peter.
A small fist bumps into Miguel’s arm, giving him a friendly nudge. “I saw you and Y/N sneaking into your room earlier. What happened in her apartment?” she grins.
“You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you can work it out,” Miguel sighs in defeat - the secret wasn’t going to remain one for long…
A shrill squeak of excitement erupts from Lyla which fills the tiny room before the microwave beeps. “~Miggy’s got a girlfriend!~” she grins and claps her hands together with glee.
Yanking the microwave door open, he takes out the plate and places it on the countertop to cool. “We’re not official or anything. I just really like her,” he admits as he finishes up messaging Peter and putting his phone back in his pocket.
“You really really like her though,” she grins again as now what seems to be a flurry of cushion feathers start fluttering into the kitchen.
Miguel’s gaze lowers as he presses his fingers against the pack of blood to feel how hot it is. “Yes, I do. Happy now?” he asks as he picks up his meal. “Go on; go to bed while I try to drink in peace - ‘try’ being the operative word with that rowdy lot outside…” he continues as he nods his head towards the communal area.
Lyla eyes the feathers scattered around on the floor. “They’re getting restless; being cooped up in here all the time,” she comments, sounding sympathetic. A frown spreads across her lips.
The vampire lets out a tired sigh. “I know, but here’s the safest place for them at the moment. Morbius is trying everything he can to get to me,” he pauses for a moment as he also looks at the feathers that have wafted into the kitchen. “I’ve told Peter to come here tonight, and instructed MJ and Mayday to travel here tomorrow during the day. I want everyone here where I can keep tabs on you all.”
His business partner nods in response. “Probably the smartest move,” she says as she stands up and unfolds her arms. With a wave of her hand she wishes Miguel good night and leaves the kitchen. “Right, which one of you rascals is buying a new cushion?”
You wake to feeling something much warmer than a blanket covering you. Before you open your eyes, you can tell Miguel has re-entered the room and climbed onto the bed. He nuzzles you gently and holds you close. A soft moan leaves your lips as you slip back into consciousness and nuzzle him back.
His chest is already bare. You can feel the warmth of his skin radiating against yours. It’s clear that he has had some blood to drink recently.
“Time to get up, mi dulzura,” he whispers to you, making you grumble and snuggle him more tightly.
“No…” you nuzzle against his thick neck, “just five more minutes…”
A faint smile spreads across his face. He wants to enjoy his time with you, however there is the underlying stress of what the new day will be bringing. “Okay, but you should get up soon,” he replies before delivering a tender kiss to the top of your head.
Begrudgingly, after a few minutes, you finally leave the bed, but you make the mistake of looking back at the beautiful man you’re abandoning under the sheets. Your heart flutters when you two lock eyes, as you consider maybe you can squeeze in a quick intimate and passionate moment before starting work. His body is simply irresistible… However, you fear that once you start, you will not be able to stop.
After getting dressed, you send a message to your boss to notify him that you’ll be working out of the office again. Then you sit back down on the bed, to give your new vampire lover a kiss before finding a quiet spot to work.
“Sweet dreams,” you whisper to him as your lips brush against his. Long, tanned fingers thread through strands of your hair as you feel his mouth respond to your light kisses.
“Have a good day, Y/N,” he whispers back.
The blissful moment shared between you both is suddenly rudely interrupted by your phone ringing. Looking at the screen, it says your boss is calling you. Perhaps his patience is wearing thin and wants you in the office.
You pick up your phone and answer it, feeling a slight pounding in your heart. “Morning Mr. Jameson,” you say, doing your best not to stutter.
“Y/N; care to tell me why there is a video of you on the internet opening fire at what looks to be a vampire? What’s going on? Explain; now.”
Miguel can immediately see that something is wrong. Your hands tremble so much that you nearly drop the phone.
“W-what?” you manage to choke out in surprise.
Your boss scoffs. “I know it’s you. That much is clear in the video.”
There’s a video? You ask yourself. How the hell do you negotiate this situation? “Mr. Jameson, I don’t know what video you’re referring to,” you ask, doing your best to sound as ignorant and innocent as possible, but your concerned gaze lands on Miguel, who’s eyes widen. After standing up from the bed, you search for your laptop in your bag with one hand while holding your phone to your ear.
“Oh, please, Y/N-”
“Send it to me,” you reply, sounding a little more commanding than you intended. Your laptop clacks down on Miguel’s desk before you open it and turn it on. The sound of the bed creaking tells you that Miguel is coming to take a look too, gathering his sheets around his hips.
“Alright…” Mr. Jameson replies, humouring you as you hear him type your email address and click send.
After your laptop boots up, you log in and immediately open your emails. Your boss’ email is sitting tauntingly at the very top of your inbox in large, bold, black text. A warm hand rests on your shoulder as you take a seat at the desk and open the email. Miguel, too, is very eager to see what this is all about.
You click on the link in the email from Mr. Jameson and it takes you to a YouTube channel called V-Tube. At first glance, it looks like a place that displays supposed proof that the creatures of the night exist. Except, in this case, the video in front of you is in fact, definite proof.
Silence falls on the line as you play the video. Sure enough, there you are, clinging onto Miguel on the back of a bike shooting at a winged creature. Thankfully, the camera angle doesn’t reveal Miguel’s face, but this does land you slap bang in the middle of a whole lot of trouble with your boss and potentially your job. There must have been a car that wasn’t involved in the chase, but a passenger within it witnessed the entire event and recorded it.
“Shit…” you hear Miguel mutter quietly behind you, he steps away and paces the room as he tries to think. Then, he grabs his phone and opens up a news app to check what’s being said there.
“Something’s going on, Y/N, and what I want to know is why aren’t you writing about this?”
You gulp. A lump has formed in your throat and doesn’t seem to want to go away.
“You’re not denying it then? Your involvement in this?” Mr. Jameson probes. How can you deny it? Your face is right there, in that video…
“I- last night I was out with my boyfriend,” you begin conjuring a lie; hopefully a believable one. Miguel turns to face you as you continue, partially because you called him your boyfriend. “We were attacked. I acted in self defence and I know nothing more about what we saw last night than you do.”
“Why would they be attacking you?” he asks, making you pause and panic.
“I don’t know. As far as I could see it was unprovoked. Perhaps a case of mistaken identity?”
Mr. Jameson sighs as he considers your words. He guesses what you said could be the truth… The brief silence is broken once more as he speaks. “Well, at least you’ve got something to write about. A perfect opportunity and your first hand experience will make an interesting read to say the least.”
Your heart lurches, of course he’s going to make that suggestion. “But I-“
“Not buts; I want you to write about this,” he growls as you swear you hear him hit his desk in frustration. “You can do some digging into these beasts too for future articles. Civilians need to know who they are truly residing with,” you hear a series of beeps in your ear coming from your phone, telling you that your boss has hung up. Your hand holding your mobile lowers as your eyes remain fixed on your laptop screen. What are you going to do?
Miguel comes over to see you again, still clutching his bed sheet around his hips. “What did he say?” he asks, his expression full of concern, eyebrows knitted together.
You turn back to look at him, your expression almost mirroring his. “Mr. Jameson wants me to write about what happened last night. Claiming that Nueva York citizens need to know about who else lives in the city,” you reply as you watch Miguel shake his head and turn away to begin pacing again.
“No. You’re not going to - you can’t.”
Placing your cell phone down on his desk, you stand up to meet him across the room. “I could warn the Daily Bugle readers about Morbius?” you offer as a suggestion but he looks back at you, his expression now looking more serious than concerned.
“And cause mass panic? Because that’s what your article will do,” he pauses before adding: “Or make them think you’re mad.”
“So, I just sit and do nothing?” you ask before you point at your laptop. “If I don’t write, I’m out of a job. Jameson has told me I have to write about last night,” as you speak, your voice cracks with emotion, concern and stress, desperate to find a middle ground that everyone can be happy with.
Miguel just simply looks at you, obstinate and resolute.
“You’ve said it yourself: Morbius is getting reckless. He wants to stop you from getting in his way. How far will he go to do that? How many people might die as collateral damage? People need to know,” you argue with passion, although you notice standing your ground against Miguel is actually rather frightening.
He stands silently for a moment before he looks away. “You’ll find another job, I’m sure,” his voice is barely above a whisper.
Your jaw drops at his response and your heart pounds. “That’s it?” you ask incredulously. “I’ll be forced to find another job because you say so?”
Miguel advances on you suddenly. “What’s going on is so much bigger than the Daily fucking Bugle!” he yells as one hand clasps your shoulder while the other remains on the sheet around his hips. “If you write anything to do with the existence of vampires, I promise you there will be pitchforks and lit torches before the day is done,” he gestures to his bedroom door. “Those kids out there, are under my protection. They are my responsibility. Even MayDay would be at risk - an infant!”
His words echo uncomfortably in your mind. You remember how he was treated when a small village found out about him being a vampire. How would an entire city respond? Or even potentially the world? It’s clear Miguel still has trouble with trusting humanity, and you can understand that whole-heartedly.
“What if Morbius doesn’t like what you write about vampires? You could be a target for a different reason other than simply being delectable. What if he targets the employees of the Daily Bugle in response? You want to risk that?” as he speaks, his eyes are wide, desperate to get his point across and for you to understand.
There is a moment where you both stare into each other’s eyes, passion burning brightly between you. As your heart pounds, your breathing quickens and your mind processing what feels like thousands of thoughts a minute.
“You think I’d be the only one writing about this?” you eventually ask as you rest your hand on his which still grips your shoulder. “Others will be looking at that video and writing about this for other newspapers. Whereas I was actually there,” you pause as Miguel pulls his hand away from your shoulder and sits down on the edge of his bed, resting his head in his hands.
“That video is out there for all to see. People know now, regardless of me writing or not-” Miguel looks up at you.
“Then why even bother?” he interjects.
You kneel down in front of him and grip his arms. “Because I can use my voice - or my words, in this case - for good!” you’re so desperate for him to see things from your side, you could shake him. “You should trust me not to write about the kids. I will only report on what is important and necessary.”
“People are going to believe whatever they want. If they want to believe that every vampire is dangerous that’s what they’re going to do,” his voice is low and resentful, but not towards you. You can guess he’s still hurting from the way he was treated all those years ago.
“Then I will feel glad that I have written about my first hand experience being with good vampires like you, who saved my life. I may not be able to convince everyone, but I have gained trust over the years of working for the Daily Bugle,” your hands squeeze his wrists slightly. “Let me use my influence to help sway people in your favour.”
For the first time in a few minutes, Miguel’s furrowed brows relax as a breath he didn’t know he was holding finally leaves his parted lips. He can see the determination in your eyes and it’s getting harder to argue against. Tiredness from a long night is making him cranky and maybe more liable to be uncooperative.
Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you into his embrace as he lays back on his bed. He kisses the top of your head before he speaks. “I’m sorry,” he begins as he tightens his grip on you. “Do what you need to do. All I ask is, can I see what you write before you submit it?”
That is a fair request. You are going to be writing about him after all. Supporting your weight with your hands on either side of his head, you look down at him. “Of course. I will start working on it right away,” you answer, before bending down slightly to kiss him back. “But you get some sleep first and I’ll show it to you when you wake up later before I email it to Mr. Jameson.”
“Okay, I’ll sleep,” he replies before pulling you in for another kiss.
He finally relinquishes you and gets under his covers, hiding his beautiful body away.
It’s hard, but you tear your eyes away from him and return to your laptop.
Giving it further thought, you decide to write an open letter as you worry sensationalising the situation might make it be taken less seriously. As you type, the sounds of your keys softly clicking on the keyboard lulls Miguel off into a deep and restful sleep.
Occasionally, you hear his soft snoring, sounding so peaceful and about the furthest away from being a threat to Nueva York as he can possibly get. You have to do him and most other vampires justice, for his sake and for the kids.
It takes a little while to compose everything you wish to say. Every word is carefully considered with the vampire’s best interests in mind.
In the afternoon, you take a break and speak with Lyla, who has spent most of the morning running errands and preparing the shelter for the arrival of MJ and MayDay.
It’s becoming abundantly clear that last night’s events scared Miguel. The fact he is calling in anyone who is associated with him shows that he thinks Morbius is a much bigger threat now than he ever was. If anything happens to anyone he has hidden away in this shelter, he most likely would never forgive himself. You know he holds himself responsible for not finishing Morbius off when he had the chance, and you suspect it eats away at him every single day.
During your break, you help set up a room for the family of three to share before MJ and MayDay arrive. You look forward to seeing that sweet little girl again; you’re certain she’s going to make living in the shelter much more entertaining.
By the time you are done with writing your open letter, Miguel stirs in his sleep, a soft groan comes out from a pile of pillows.
“Evening,” you call out as the mound under the blankets pillows wriggles. “I think I’m nearly done if you want to come and check it out.”
The sleepy monster finally rises from the land of slumber, stretching and yawning with dishevelled hair poking out in all angles. “Alright, I’m coming…” he replies, his voice sounding croaky as he emerges completely from under the blankets.
After getting some boxers and dark jeans on, he stands behind you, eager to read what you have written. The warmth of his chest beats down on you as he leans over to take a look.
“From The Horse's Mouth,
In the last twenty-four hours, a video has surfaced on the internet displaying winged creatures attacking me - yes, that’s right, me and a friend. I’m writing this to confirm that this is in fact true and not some kind of doctored footage. I am writing this to provide my story of what actually happened.
The truth is, I have very recently discovered that vampires do indeed exist. Just the other night, I found myself in the jaws - quite literally, of a vampire. That was until the man shown on the bike with me came to my rescue.
I went from living in complete ignorant bliss about vampires to being surrounded by them. Let me be crystal clear, I do not feel unsafe in their midst. In fact, they are simply humans who have recently been turned and wish to live in peace.
Just like humans, there are indeed bad vampires too. And I want to take this opportunity to warn as many as I can that there are several roaming the city. Following the orders of the one I was rescued from. His sights are set squarely on my hero, but I must stress that everyone must remain vigilant.
Do not engage with anyone you do not know more than you need to; no matter how charming they appear to be. If you have to be out at night, or travelling via the subway, be sure to have a trusted companion with you, or if that is not possible, stay away from quiet and secluded areas.
Stay safe.
Y/N, Daily Bugle”
As Miguel reads your open letter, a small smile spreads across his face. Relaxing over the fact you have written the vampires he is protecting in a good light. You are right. The cat is out of the bag, as he feared last night, and people will believe if this is real, or a hoax, or if vampires are good or bad. What you have written won’t make matters worse, but maybe help relieve the situation. And in doing so, you are keeping your boss happy too.
He pats your shoulder and then gives it a firm squeeze. “That sounds fine, Y/N. Thank you, and I’m sorry for being so stubborn with you this morning.”
Looking up at him, you spur him on to lean down and give you a kiss on the forehead. “It’s alright, I understand why you were reluctant,” you reply before looking back down at your screen and preparing it to be sent to Mr. Jameson.
The communal area has never looked so full. Twelve people are now living in the shelter and are in danger of completely cramming the couches. To allow people to spread out, Lyla and Miguel have dragged over some spare mattresses to provide extra sitting places.
On one sofa, you, Lyla and MJ all sit together eating a meal that was pre-prepared by MJ. On another couch, Gwen and Pavitr chat to one another animatedly, while Margo and Miles attempt to backseat game as they watch Peni play her gaming device on the third couch.
One of the mattresses in the communal area is littered with children’s toys as Peter plays with a wide-eyed MayDay. She giggles infectiously as her tower of stackable blocks falls down for the umpteenth time that evening.
In the corner, next to several crates, Hobie sits as he inspects the blades he acquired from the vampire he shot the night before. MJ had banished him there as she knew MayDay would likely want to get involved.
As he half unsheathes one of the swords, he hums the annoyingly catchy tune Miles came up with earlier as he scaled the walls.
The metal of the blade is indeed silver, and he makes a note to get hold of some leather gloves so he can handle them properly. For now though, they should be hidden away and out of reach from certain inquisitive little dhampirs…
As Miguel clears his throat to address the rest of the shelter’s occupants, Hobie struts past to put the weapons away in his shared room.
“Alright, listen up,” he starts as he speaks to everyone, but mostly the other vampires. He begins again when he has almost everyone’s attention. “In my recent run-ins with Morbius, his vampire-mist ability is proving killing him practically impossible. If I’m to learn how to do it and play him at his own game. I think you lot should too-”
“Vampire-mist?” Pavitr repeats in surprise, “we can do that?” he asks with intrigue and wonder as MayDay starts to fly away from Peter’s grasping hands.
Miguel nods. “If Morbius can do it, we can too. Just need to work out how,” he says, ducking out of the child’s flight path as her little wings carry her up to the ceiling behind him.
“Uh, MayDay, honey, come back down…” Peter calls out, his eyes fixed on his daughter as he gets up and scales the wall to reach her.
“What is it exactly?” Margo speaks up with interest as she nudges Peni to make her put her gaming device down.
Before Miguel answers, Hobie comes back out of his room and returns to the communal area, observing and smirking at the shenanigans between Peter and MayDay on the ceiling.
“It’s a form of teleportation. It’s an annoying habit of Morbius’s to use as a method of getting himself out of trouble. He’s engulfed by black mist before vanishing entirely,” he explains, trying hard not to sound too sore about his missed opportunity to kill Morbius two nights ago.
“Sounds neat. But why do you want us to learn it too?” Miles asks as Gwen and Margo nod in agreement to his question.
“It’ll be beneficial to us all, for self-defence…” Miguel’s voice drones on as he answers Miles’ question.
At the same time, Peter scrabbles about on the ceiling as MayDay slips between his arms, swooping left and right. MJ squeals as she peeps through the gaps of her fingers, no longer paying attention to Miguel.
Peter manages to catch MayDay and triumphantly holds her below his head as he stands upside down from the ceiling. “Gotcha!”
Simultaneously, Miguel turns around wondering what the fuss is all about. His eyes go wide as he walks right into Peter’s face and their lips connect in an unexpected kiss...
Time seems to have frozen in that moment of shock. Both you and MJ nearly choke on your food as Lyla bursts out laughing with the rest of the vampires.
Miguel tears his face away from Peter, spluttering and wiping his mouth with the back of his hands. His wide red eyes twitch as a chorus of laughter behind him fills the long hallway of the abandoned train station.
Peter chuckles as he finally gets himself back onto the floor. “What? I’m not that bad of a kisser, am I?” he asks as he holds an excitedly babbling MayDay in his arms while MJ facepalms with embarrassment on the couch.
With a heavy sigh, Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose as Peter returns to the mattress.
“MJ, you like my kisses, right?” he asks as he sits back down.
“I do, but not everybody does, I’d expect,” she answers wryly.
Once the hilarity has died down, you, Lyla and MJ head to bed. As you enter Miguel’s room, he follows you and wraps you up in his embrace. His lips brush against yours tenderly and sweetly before capturing them completely.
Your hands splayed across his chest as your fingertips traverse over his defined torso.
Reluctantly, Miguel pulls away, ending the kiss before resting his forehead against yours. “I just wanted my last kiss of the day to be with you, mi dulzura,” he whispers as he nuzzles you, rubbing his nose against yours.
His words and his actions are so sweet and loving. It makes your heart flutter and you’re amazed that so much has changed between the both of you in such a short amount of time. Perhaps the drama you both have gone through together over the last forty-eight hours have brought you together and strengthened your bond so quickly.
You nuzzle him back before stealing another quick kiss but a bright smile shines across your face. A chuckle fills the room before you speak. “You haven’t kissed someone for two hundred years and now you’ve kissed two people in as many days.”
His hand taps you lightly on your rear as if it was aimed to be a little spank. Then, he holds you closer. “But you’re the only one who makes me hard.”
A sudden deep, hot pulse radiates from your core at his words. And sure enough, as he holds you close, you can feel him throbbing against you through his clothes. You bite your lip as you look up at him, making him smirk.
Miguel presses a tender kiss against your forehead as his hands gently rest on your shoulders. “Hmm… food for thought before you fall asleep?” he chuckles as you pout slightly. “I’ve got to concentrate on learning Morbius’s little trick.”
You relent and relax the pleading puppy-dog expression and trembling pout, as you understand that Miguel has more important things to focus on. Anything he can learn to improve his abilities as a vampire could make a vast difference to the outcome of their next inevitable clash.
Before wishing you goodnight, he buries his face against the crook of your neck and takes a deep breath. A contented sigh leaves his lips as your scent gives him a buzz of determination.
“So, how are we going to try and learn this vampire-mist thing when nobody here knows how to do it?” Miles asks once all vampires congregate back in the communal area.
Gwen contemplates for a moment as she sits back on a couch. “Maybe it’s a mental thing? Turning into mist when calm?” she offers as a suggestion.
“Morbius can do it when he’s about to be killed, I don’t think he’s calm all the time when he does it,” Miguel replies as he rests his hands on his hips.
Pavitr sits up from lazing on another couch. “It’s an act of necessity,” he says as if a lightbulb has just been switched on in his mind. “The need for self-preservation or to avoid a situation Morbius doesn’t want to be in triggers the ability.”
Everyone falls silent, considering Pavitr’s thinking out loud. A faint rumble can be heard in a neighbouring tunnel as a train passes through.
Hobie shrugs with folded arms, leaning against a wall. “Makes sense,” he says as his lazy gaze wanders over to Miguel who is still thinking.
“Oh! Gwen; throw a cushion at me!” Pavitr exclaims with urgency.
Miguel looks up. “It’s not time to screw around, guys,” he retorts, but as he speaks, he watches Gwen expertly sling a cushion through the air, directly at Pavitr’s face. And to his absolute surprise, Pav vanishes in a cloud of black mist and the cushion flies cleanly through it, landing among some crates behind the couch.
Everyone but Miguel throws their arms up in the air in shock and disbelief that it worked for Pavitr first time round. A loud chorus of stunned laughter and cheers fill the room before the young vampire steps out of his room and rejoins the excited crowd.
“H-How did you…?” Miguel asks with a bewildered expression on his face, a very slight twitch evident in his eye.
“Easy!” Pavitr replies as Hobie gives him a celebratory pat on the back. “I didn’t want the cushion to mess up my hair,” he answers as he runs his fingers through his voluminous black locks.
“Look at you; being smart and fashionable while you do it.” It is now Peter’s turn to clap Pavitr on the back before he faces Miguel. “Looks like we have our answer,” he says as the other vampires start pairing up to try and make the other vanish.
Along the stretch of subway station that once had a constant flow of people all day every day stands pairings of vampires, teaming up to learn this interesting trick. Miles partners up with Gwen, Hobie, with Pavitr, Margo, with Peni and finally Miguel stands before Peter.
They try throwing punches or kicks at each other to see if they can trigger the vampire-mist response. For some, it isn’t quite so easy to do.
“Come on, Miles. You can throw a harder punch than that,” Gwen goads as she dodges a feeble attack.
“I don’t like the idea of hitting you,” he grunts as he takes another reluctant swing. “Besides, you’re not meant to be dodging them!” Frustration rises within him as Gwen steps aside once more.
“As Pav says, it’s an ability used out of necessity,” she says as she blocks Miles’ punch and raises her own fist. “I haven’t needed to use it.” Her clenched hand swings fast, aiming right towards Miles’ face giving him no time to duck. His eyes widen as he yelps before he disappears and reappears behind Gwen who’s now enveloped in mist.
“You nearly hit me!” Miles exclaims in shock before he realises what he’s just accomplished. He steps forward and shoves at Gwen, springing her forward and almost stumbling headlong into a wall. However, she never hits it as she, too, bursts into mist and reappears safely standing upright next to Miles. The pair of them stare at each other in silent surprise.
After already mastering the technique, Pav spends more time focusing on getting Hobie to work it out. He squints cheekily as he plans his next steps of action. Instead of trying to fight Hobie, he hounds him with questions and compliments about his appearance. “You have an impressive collection of badges my guy,” he says as he reaches out to touch a badge that’s pinned firmly in the leather of his sleeveless-jacket.
A hand swiftly swipes away Pavitr’s hand. “Nah-ah; hands off bruv,” Hobie warns as he corrects his badge, twisting it so it’s just how he likes it.
Pav grins widely. He’s spotted a weakness. In a flurry of fast movements, he reaches for the several shiny objects adorning Hobie’s clothing. “How many do you have? What does this one say? Where did you get this one from? Does that say, PM can suck my d-“ (PM = Prime Minister) Pavitr suddenly chokes on swirling black mist as Hobie vanishes before throwing his arms in the air with joy.
It isn’t long afterwards that Margo and Peni both learn how to do it too. Miguel growls with irritation as he sees the six youngsters work it out while he still struggles with Peter. It seems he has the chattiest partner, having almost a full-blown conversation with himself about how adorable MayDay is between throwing punches at Miguel.
Frustration builds gradually as he understands the concept of what’s needed but he realises he’s hardwired into acting with physical self defence, overriding any urge to vanish. “GAH! For fuck sake; what’s the use?” he lashes out and kicks a crate.
Peter’s shoulders slump with disappointment as it seems Miguel wasn’t exactly listening to his talk about his daughter. “Relax, Miguel. It’ll come to you. Just keep trying.”
“Forget it!” he huffs, turning his back on the rest of the room, pinching the bridge of his nose.
As an awkward silence descends upon the room, Pavitr waves to Peter to get his attention and leans in to whisper in his ear. His instruction is met with a grin and a definite nod.
An arm rests on top of Miguel’s broad shoulders as a hand pats him. “Maybe just take a breather,” Peter says softly, as he leans in to kiss him.
Miguel’s eyes widen in panic at the sudden invasion of personal space and to his surprise, he finds himself in his own room in a blink of an eye. He has done it. A yell of elation nearly erupts from his lips, but he sees you, sleeping peacefully in his bed. Instead, he hears the other vampires cheer outside.
“Well done,” Peter says as he pats Miguel’s shoulder after he re-emerges from his room. “Don’t worry. No more unsolicited kisses from me; I promise.”
Miguel huffs with a slight smile of disbelief over his achievement. “Thanks,” he says. “Probably for the best,” he looks down at Peter. “Your turn to learn, now.”
Peter pulls his hand away from Miguel. “Me?” he laughs suddenly. “I learned that trick ages ago. Back when MJ nearly caught me doing something I shouldn’t have been.”
Miguel’s smile drops. “What?” he asks as he tilts his head questioningly, almost like a confused dog. “Y-You’ve known how to do it all along?”
A wide grin forms on Peter’s face. “Yep. But making everyone learn it from scratch has got the younger ones busy and focused on something other than being bored hooligans.”
Looking around the shelter, Miguel observes everyone standing and talking; not lounging around lazily on the communal couches. They all look animated, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
A smile spreads across Miguel’s lips as he understands Peter’s logic. “Fair enough. Thanks.”
For peace and quiet, he enters the kitchen and pulls out his phone to take a look at the news. It has now been over twenty-four hours since the news broke out with the video showing you both fleeing and shooting at beastly creatures. His large thumb brushes up his phone’s screen, scrolling for any update until a headline catches his attention.
“Government Officials Claim the Video is Fake.”
Of course the government would say that, but he can’t deny feeling a little more at ease about it. He hopes it will quell any nervousness amongst the citizens of Nueva York.
A soft nuzzling feeling against your neck slowly awakens you. Miguel is back in the bed, being big-spoon and holding you close. The warmth of his bare chest pressing against your back makes you feel safe and relaxed. He sniffs you before leaning his head against yours, letting out a contented sigh.
You raise your hand to cup his face that is next to yours, your fingertips nestling in his silky hair. “Good morning,” you say huskily as your throat tries to wake up from a night of snoring and deep breathing.
Miguel’s body presses against yours again, completely flush as his arms snake around you. “Morning,” he almost coos back, his breath brushing hotly over your ear.
“I didn’t feel you climb into bed,” you reply, your voice sounding a little more clear.
The feeling of his body clinging onto you like a limpet stuck on a rock on a beach makes you smile, if not turning you on slightly. You find it hard to resist pushing your rear back against his naked pelvis to tease him.
“Because I didn’t, mi dulzura,” he whispers as he thrusts his hips forwards slightly like he can read your mind.
It takes you a minute to work it out - mostly because his hips distract you - but finally the penny drops. Suddenly you turn to face him, your eyes wide. “You worked it out?” Your question is met with a small smile, carrying a hint of pride.
“Yes. Helped by an unusual method by Pavitr, but it did the trick.”
You throw your arms around him and roll him onto his back - a position he rather gladly accepts, his large hands resting on your hips. “Well done! I’m so pleased for you,” you say as you smother him with kisses all over his face before his lips catch yours.
Silence descends upon the room, only being broken by the faint sounds of your intimate moment or sweet moans between the two of you. The way his hands move over your body as he gently pushes his hips up against yours, slowly grinding his growing erection along your unclothed entrance.
Your brows furrow as your need for him skyrockets, and you tilt your hips for him to have an easier angle to enter you.
Another moan leaves your lips when you feel the head of his shaft breaching your slicked folds, squeezing past the tight ring.
Just as you’re about to take the plunge and sink down on him completely, the heat of your passion instantly plummets to subzero temperatures when you hear your phone buzz with an incoming call. You hesitate for a moment, your hips stuttering over Miguel, making him groan needily.
“Ignore it,” he grunts as he grabs your hips.
Looking at the screen, you see it’s your boss, making you pull away. “It’s Jameson…” you mumble nervously as you crawl along the bed, leaving an exceedingly horny Miguel behind you. He rolls over to his front on the bed with a groan of indignant protest and proceeds to grind against the mattress to alleviate his building arousal.
“Mr. Jameson?” you answer the call with mounting curiosity as you sit on the side of the bed, the cool air of Miguel’s room embracing you now you’re out from the covers and away from his body.
“Uh, morning, Y/N,” your boss responds, his usual pushy and demanding demeanour now replaced with something similar to nervousness and uncertainty. With the way he sounds, you get a clear image in your mind of him looking rather pale, as if he has seen a ghost.
You’re not sure how you feel about this change. While you’re not fond of his normal behaviour, this new one doesn’t exactly fill you with confidence either.
“Listen; I’m going to have to ask you to step down from writing for the Daily Bugle - just for a little while,” Mr. Jameson begins to explain.
An uncomfortable pounding in your chest starts after he speaks. “What? Why?” The tone of your voice makes Miguel look up at you with concern, forgetting how you just unintentionally blue balled him.
“It’s not my decision exactly-“ he tries to continue but you interrupt.
“What do you mean?”
“The government has asked me to suspend you for writing your open letter yesterday,” Jameson blurts out at you in response.
Your blood runs cold. The government is involved now? However your blood doesn’t run cold for long as you remember who pushed you to write the now seemingly offensive piece. It now feels like fire burning within your veins as you try to gather the right words to speak. “This… This isn’t fair, you-“
“It’s out of my hands, Y/N.”
“You told me to write it! Did you fail to mention that nugget of information to the government?”
“No- I-“ Jameson splutters.
“Just as I thought,” you snap back.
Only listening to half of the conversation, Miguel can still tell something is wrong, and when you mention the government, he starts to worry. Quickly, he peels his body off of the mattress and shuffles his way over to you to put a comforting arm around your shoulders.
“I know you’re mad-“ Mr. Jameson tries to placate the situation, but you’re now feeling unstoppable.
“Damn right, I’m mad! You played a part in this open letter too, but you don’t face suspension? How convenient,” as you speak, you find yourself surprised that you’re able to do this. You’d never say boo to a goose, but at this moment, you’re ripping into your boss, letting him have a piece of your mind. Confrontation and you don’t usually mix, and it becomes rather apparent as your body starts to shudder. Miguel feels it under his arm, spurring him to wrap it around you tighter, keeping you warm and strengthening your resolve.
Mr. Jameson has always been a bully. You told yourself that he was under pressure from higher-ups to keep his division of the Daily Bugle running like a well-oiled machine to excuse his shitty attitude towards you. But now, you’ve finally had enough of how he makes you feel when you work for him. This is the last straw.
“Watch your tone, Y/N,” Jameson’s demeanour seems to be shifting back to how he usually is with you, only serving to fuel the roaring fire within.
“You know what, Jameson? Fuck you. Fuck you and the Daily Bugle,” with that, you rip your phone away from your ear and jab angrily at the end call button on the screen, making a loud tap.
A wave of cold seems to wash over you again for a moment as the fire dies down inside. But you feel relief as Miguel scoops you up and places you in his lap, wrapping his arms around you tightly.
There is no need to ask what happened, he understood the gist of it, and hearing you say ‘fuck you’ to your boss and the company you work for pretty much sounds like you’ve just quit. “It’s okay,” he whispers to you as he rocks you back and forth in his arms.
“Is it?” you ask, your voice shaking slightly with the stress of the confrontation. “I’ve just thrown my job away because of my boss being a monumental d-”
“Oooookay, mi dulzura,” he interjects as he tightens his grip around you. “I know. But you’ll get back up on your feet. I’m sure you will. The Daily Bugle doesn’t deserve you,” his voice is soft and calming as his fingers thread through your hair. Every gentle stroke he gives you soothes the furnace inside.
Eventually, he feels you relax into his embrace, producing a contented smile on his face. He thinks to himself that the cuddle he has you locked in will be so much better for the both of you if you’re ensconced under his covers with him. It’s not like you have work to do today.
Gently, he lifts you back into bed and lays next to you. The warmth of his body mixes in with the duvet that he pulls it over you both.
Miguel’s words echo in your mind as he hides you away from the world. He’s right. The Daily Bugle doesn’t deserve you. You have no idea what you’ll do instead, but at least your sanity will no longer be tested on a daily basis working for a man like Jameson.
You feel so warm in the cocoon that is his arms and his duvet. It’s impossible to hide the smile on your face as you feel him nuzzling and kissing your cheek. And soon, your troubles are temporarily forgotten about as you feel his hand slither its way down your body, the warm pads of his middle and fourth fingers gently running tight circles on your clit.
A gasp escapes your parted lips as his tender stroking re-awakens your core. The heat of mounting arousal spreads throughout your body in pulses with every revolution of his fingers.
Eventually, he feels moisture at the trough of every circular stroke, lubricating his touch, letting his digits slide over your sensitive bud.
You mewl needily for more as your inner walls start to clamp on nothing. Your body, begging to be filled, craving him.
Miguel licks his lips as a thought crosses his mind. “I want to taste you, mi dulzura,” he whispers to you, spurring you to obediently tilt your head to one side before you even really think about it properly.
He shakes his head with a smile. “Not there,” he mumbles with a smirk. “Here,” Miguel’s fingers slip down from your clit, making you moan louder as he halts that sweet stimulation and slides inside you. “Damn, you’re so wet. Please, let me have a taste.”
Just the thought of having his head down there between your legs makes your heart flutter. Then you add the feeling that your mind can conjure of his tongue lapping at your entrance and flicking around your clit. On top of that, you imagine his moans as he hopefully enjoys the taste of you. Of course you’re not going to deny him that experience. You nod to give him the go ahead and you’re met with a seductive grin.
“I can’t wait to see if your arousal tastes as sweet as your blood,” he coos as he begins his descent down your body. His plump lips plant tender kisses along the way.
Miguel’s hands grip you under your thighs and open your legs wide for him, revealing such an enticing sight.
In no time at all, his mouth is now lavishing attention to your tender inner-thigh. This sensation alone is enough to drive you wild.
“So soft…” he purrs with delight. “I’d like to try feeding from here sometime…” he murmurs against your supple flesh as his lips travel higher to the tendon between your thigh and your heat. Light and gentle nibbles are felt along it, making you moan and writhe. How can something feel so good but equally unbearable?
Fingers dig into your flesh as Miguel holds your legs apart before you feel the delicate teasing from his tongue flicking and circling around your sensitive bud. He instantly moans as soon as his taste buds register your essence. The vibrations of his appreciation only serve to heighten your arousal.
He pauses momentarily, making you think he’s about to compliment your taste, but he doesn’t waste his time. Diving in completely, his lips and tongue attack your drenched folds before letting out an incredible groan. No compliments necessary. There is fervour behind his actions, acting as though he is a man starved.
Your fingers clench the bed sheets as Miguel continues his onslaught between your legs, alternating between lapping at your entrance and teasing your clit while moaning. Every time you wriggle and writhe, he fights you to keep you still. “M-Miguel~” you moan urgently as his time on your sensitive bud is starting to feel particularly exquisite.
Knowing that you can feel that tightening in your lower abdomen, he chases your climax down by latching onto your clit and teases it mercilessly. His tongue flicks and swirls around it as he starts to suck, making your back arch and cry out his name again.
To make sure there is no danger of him moving away, you release one of your hands off the bed sheet and grasp the locks of his slicked-back, dark-brown hair. “Yes…” you hiss with pleasure. “Like that, mhmmm…” you encourage him to keep going.
He nods between your legs, only adding to the stimulation, driving you even closer to your release. He can tell you’re approaching the edge, your body’s reaction is indication enough.
Miguel re-captures your swollen bundle of nerves with his lips after flicking it wildly with his tongue and groans deeply into your flesh for his one last bid to push you over the edge.
Your eyes roll to the top of your head, the moment your orgasm hits. A loud moan erupts from your parted lips as your body writhes uncontrollably under the strong influence of your pleasure.
He pushes on, continuing to lavish your throbbing clit with attention through your climax until your mewls turn into high-pitched squeals. And when he can sense that it’s too much for you, he releases you before eating you out once more, coating his tongue in your fresh wave of arousal, languidly lapping between your soaked folds.
“I could eat you out,” Miguel begins before licking at you hungrily again for a few seconds and pulls away once more, “all day, mi dulzura.”
He glances up at you while you pant and look a little dazed from the mind-blowing orgasm he has just put you through. A smirk spreads across his face. “But I need to feel you wrapped tightly around me too,” he crawls up the bed, over the top of you and nestles himself between your legs. “Is that what you want, too? To take me deep inside?”
Once again, the image his words paint in your mind makes you ripple beneath him. Your hips bucking upwards slightly, seeking penetration, searching for the warmth of his hardened length. “Yes, please…” you moan for him as your need to be stretched around his cock increases exponentially.
After two recent nights of intimacy between the both of you, Miguel has already grown accustomed to the sensation of making love with someone again - not like it was ever a problem for you in the first place.
His hand travels down between the both of you to get himself positioned at your entrance. The tip of his member glistens as his pre-cum mixes with your arousal while he teases it up and down between your folds.
Another uncontrollable buck of your hips briefly pushes him in further, making the both of you gasp and moan.
The helping hand now returns to the side of your head before he begins to bury himself inside while he watches you dissolve with pleasure again. His breath dances across your face as he sinks deeper and deeper until he bottoms out.
“You feel so damn good, mi dulzura…” Miguel grunts as he draws his hips back again before starting a steady rhythm of thrusts.
Miguel is by far the biggest you’ve ever had, and you feel so full with him inside, taking up every inch and stretching your walls around him. Not only does he feel incredible, he also looks good on top of you. His perfectly defined form flexing with every movement, and his stunning face etched in pleasure is just the perfect picture to be looking up at while your head is swimming in a haze.
With every strong pump of his hips, he drags his pelvis against yours, generating lusty moans and groans between the both of you.
You feel the sheet either side of your head crumple as he screws his hands into fists.
While you pant heavily, your left hand rises up to the back of his head, tugging at his hair, while your right caresses from his red spider tattoo on his neck down his chest, abs and finally coming to a rest on the small of his back. You feel how his hips thrust that extra bit further forward at the peak of each pump, making your jaw drop as the sensation gets you closer to losing your mind.
“Mhmmm…” you mewl between heavy breaths. He’s so deep inside you that it feels like his tip is kissing your cervix, making you yelp slightly with a little bit of pain mixing in with your irresistible pleasure.
“You like that, mi dulzura? You like how deep I am inside?” Miguel huffs as he maintains his movements, his heavily-lidded red eyes gaze down upon you. He feels your hand pulling him in more with each thrust, and he adds more emphasis and grins widely when he watches you melt further into his mattress.
Every thrust is attentive and fluid in motion, his rhythm is steady and resolute while his movements drive you closer to a second climax.
“I want to feel you clench on me,” he growls into your ear as he lowers his body closer to yours, turning up the heat between you several notches. “Come undone for me again, mi dulzura.”
His words make you feel like they have control over you, or you just simply enjoy him talking dirty while balls deep inside you. Encouraging you to fall over the edge for him. Every word, every syllable sends tingles around your body and winds an invisible key that tightens your walls, building up your next orgasm.
A triumphant smile spreads across his face as he feels that sensation for himself inside you. He can tell you’re close. Your breathing has become quicker and more shallow. “That’s it,” he pants more heavily, his breath hot against your cheek. “Let go, mi dulzura.”
Your back arches tremendously as your body ignites with pleasure for a second time that morning. The combined noises of your moans and his groans fill the air as you release together. Your low spirits certainly feel lifted after Miguel’s skillful treatment.
The pair of you lay together, still intertwined as the remnants of your shared climaxes slowly ebb away and the afterglow begins.
He kisses you tenderly while keeping you trapped below him. His lips wander slowly around your face until they finally meet yours. After pulling away again, he begins to mumble to you. “You are a smart, intelligent woman. Any new workplace should consider themselves lucky having you. I’m sure you’ll find something soon to replace the Daily Bugle,” his voice is soft as his breath plays across your skin.
You pull him close, letting his head rest on your chest, allowing him that sweet treat of him listening to your heart. He settles against you a little more, but is mindful not to squash you.
Before he falls asleep, he lets you go. Allowing you to get up and enjoy your day. Being trapped underneath a weighty vampire is only fun for a little while. Although, he would love to have you around him all the time as his sweet smelling and tasting human. You nourish him in not only your blood sometimes, but with affection and indulge him with experiences he thought he’d never experience again. To say that he thinks of you as a keeper, is an understatement.
The following evening, the vampires have arisen once again while you, Lyla and MJ wind down before bed time.
In hushed tones, Miguel and Peter speak to one another in a quieter part of the shelter.
“I’m telling you Miguel, I want to be involved in bringing Morbius down-”
“No. It’s too dangerous. It’s my fault he’s still around,” Miguel interjects, desperately trying to close off the subject.
Now armed with the vampire-mist ability, he has a much better chance at catching Morbius off guard and destroying him. He wants it to be swift and as subtle as possible. But first he has to draw up a plan.
Miguel thought it was a good idea to involve Peter with gathering ideas, but now a minor argument is unfolding instead.
“You’re not alone this time, Miguel. Stop acting like you have to be the one to fix this mess. In fact, if I asked everyone here, I bet they’d want a piece of Morbius too-”
“No!” Miguel snaps while maintaining a relatively quiet voice. “Don’t you dare ask them,” he hisses while he fruitlessly reaches out to grab Peter as he steps away.
“Hey guys,” he calls out, gathering everyone’s attention in the communal part of the shelter. “Who’s up for taking Morbius down?” he continues as he receives a heavy nudge from Miguel.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growls subtly to Peter.
Silence falls upon the old subway station as everyone looks at the two men. Finally, Hobie stands and straightens his leather jacket, his badges glinting under the light above. “Thought you’d never ask.”
After seeing Hobie go first, Gwen stands with him, her face full of determination. To Miguel’s surprise, he watches the entire collection of vampires stand until Peni makes a move.
“No, absolutely not. You’re just a child. In fact most of you are, technically. I can’t allow this,” Miguel shakes his head and starts to pace the room.
“All of us want a go at taking him down, Miguel,” Peter continues his argument, however he speaks in a more calm tone.
An exasperated huff leaves Miguel’s lips as his shoulders slump, his resolve is weakening. It seems arguing with the entire group is going to be an uphill battle. “Morbius is my responsibility-”
“Says who?” Peter retorts.
“He’s fucked all our lives up, man. We should get a say if we want to take part in makin’ sure he can’t destroy anyone else’s,” Hobie joins in, folding his arms, his expression stern. His response is met with nods of agreement from the other younger vampires.
Feeling the pressure mounting on him, Miguel finally folds. “Fine!” he throws his hands up in the air. “Fine, okay. You guys win.” A large hand runs through his hair as he continues to think. “But we need to find out some things. Firstly, where to find him and secondly, how to lure him out.”
Hobie’s hand goes straight for his jeans pocket to fish out his phone. “I can ask my connection with the cops to give us some access to the CCTV network? See if we can spot him movin’ about the city?”
Miguel rests his hands on his hips, deep in thought. “We could start there. Once we get his rough location, we can work out the rest.”
With a nod, Hobie looks down at his phone and starts tapping away, composing a message to his police contact.
“Lyla, Y/N; I’m going to need you both to investigate the CCTV system during the day. It’ll be safer that way,” Miguel’s command is met with Lyla’s salute and your nod. Now that you don’t have a job to go to anymore, you can dedicate more time to helping your new vampire friends.
A buzzing sound fills the air as Hobie receives a response from his friend. “Got a meeting set up with my contact tomorrow. 10am sound good?”
Both you and Lyla agree to the time of the meeting and you notice Miguel seems to relax a little more. A plan is starting to come together. There is a look of determination in his eyes. A drive to put an end to the beast once and for all.
Since Morbius’s return, Miguel has dreamed of releasing Nueva York from his clutches, and he cannot wait for the red of his foe’s eyes to dim before his body is turned into nothing but ash by his hand.
Thank you for reading part 6 of Vampire Miguel. I hope you are enjoying it so far.
Another 'thank you' this week to my brother who came up with the upside-down kiss suggestion which managed to fit perfectly with a scene I had in mind.
I will be starting part 7 in the coming days. Of course I will release it as soon as I am able.
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Vampire Miguel - Part 5 - A Goddess For Unworthy Eyes
Miguel has to make a request, but will you oblige?
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Minors DNI - Smut and descriptions of violence
Word count - 12,828
If you don't want spoilers, don't look at the 'contains' bit below.
Contains - Descriptions of violence (involving guns) and scenes that may be disturbing. Smut - Penetrative sex
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Enjoy xx
Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4
You dump your bags on the floor, your mouth agape as you watch Miguel collapse. “Miguel?” you call out as you finally rush forward and crouch down next to him. “What’s going on? You’re clearly not fine.”
A grunt escapes his lips as he tries to sit up. It’s a hard task, but you manage to support him by wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.
“I was trying to hold out on feeding until after we returned to the shelter. I could have used the supply we have there,” a look of regret flashes across his face as his red eyes nervously lock onto yours. “The fight and healing from my injuries has sapped more of my energy than I thought and I need to drink.”
Your heart pounds at his words, your eyes searching his expression to see if he was joking.
“I’m sorry, Y/N, but I must ask you to help me,” he begins as he reaches out to you, his hand enveloping yours. “I need to drink from you…”
To your ever growing concern, it doesn’t look like he is joking at all. In fact he looks serious, yet reluctant.
As you try to decide, you help him to your couch so he could be comfortable. He has to feed to be able to return to the shelter. There’s absolutely no way he’ll be able to make it in this state. But that memory of Morbius the night before… how it hurt when he bit into you. It frightens you.
Miguel watches you through half-lidded eyes as you weigh up the options. He notices your look of concern. “I’ll be gentle and restrained. I won’t drink more than I need,” he explains in hope to sway you.
The weak giant takes up almost the entirety of your couch, apart from the space around his narrow hips where you perch yourself. You look at him, thinking about his promise of being gentle. “Alright. But if I say stop, you stop. Okay?”
Miguel nods as you set out your boundaries. He grips onto the back cushion of the sofa and pulls himself up to sitting, letting out a laboured grunt as he does so. His hand rests on your wrist. “Are you ready?”
His touch feels cold. Very much like Morbius when you shook hands with him yesterday morning. Your eyes remain locked on his, the red tint making your heart pound with anticipation. “What do I need to do?” you ask, your voice hoarse with increasing nerves.
A faint but reassuring smile begins to grow across his lips, with a hint of thankfulness too. He knows you have your reservations - quite understandably so - and he appreciates you allowing him to feed from you. An act he has only performed once before on Lyla. “Just relax,” he murmurs, “take a deep breath and stay calm,” he instructs you as you feel him peel the bandage on your neck off, making your body do the exact opposite.
“Tilt your head to your right,” Miguel whispers faintly.
You do as he asks while taking in a deep breath. You can’t believe you’re doing this. This is crazy. Madness, even.
With your neck nicely exposed for him, he leans in until you feel his breath dance across your skin. Your mind goes back to earlier this evening when you woke him up. The proximity of his large, domineering frame looming over you on his bed, and again right now as you sit together on your couch, makes you shudder with a feeling close to wanting or needing him.
He nuzzles against your neck, sniffing deeply, enjoying your scent. The sensitive skin of his lips searching for the warmest point on your neck. Surprisingly, you find that it feels good. Your eyes flutter closed at the sensation as your hands instinctively take hold of his shirt.
With Lyla, Miguel didn’t enjoy the experience of feeding from her. It was purely an act out of necessity. But in this moment, with you, it feels different. He remembers the night before, when he treated himself to smelling your neck, how he whimpered against your skin. He does everything in his dwindling power to not repeat such a noise.
You find the nuzzling almost affectionate - a sweet moment typically shared between two lovers. A different but much more preferred approach in comparison to Morbius. A shudder ripples through your body at the disturbing thought, making Miguel wrap his arms around you to keep you still. His grip is firm but gentle.
“Stay still, por favor…” he murmurs against your flesh before finding the best spot on your neck.
What you don’t expect when you know a vampire is about to feed from you is feeling his tongue glide across your skin. You liken it to a nurse wiping the area on your flesh to clean it before pushing in the needle.
Even your skin tastes good. His bushy brown eyebrows furrow as he lets out an uncontrollable moan and tightens his grip around you, but not in a way that worries you.
Then the moment you have been anticipating happens. His fangs finally break the skin, making you wince slightly. “Miguel!” you gasp, but your movement is dampened by his firm hold on you.
The very moment a drop of your blood lands on his tongue, he is unable to resist leaning further forward, tipping you back and cradling you while letting out a needy groan. His glowing red eyes flutter shut as he tastes the sweetest blood he has ever had. Holding back such noises are indeed harder than he anticipated.
The sharp sting on your neck dulls as he continues, and to your relief you start to feel relaxed before moving on to feeling heavy and fuzzy.
Miguel may sound eager, and he is clearly thoroughly enjoying his meal, but you can tell he’s being careful and gentle, like he promised.
You feel his powerful jaw working. Squeezing and flexing as he drinks, gulping down mouthfuls of your blood. Then, you notice his hands for the first time on your back. You know they’ve been there for a while, but they now feel warm and comforting. He grips you firmly, as you both sit on the couch together. The soft sounds of his whimpering continues, indicating something more like a growing need for something else…
Finally, Miguel releases you, but you get a sense of reluctance on his part. He moans softly as his tongue laps at your wound until the bleeding slows down to a stop. The languid workings of his mouth make your eyes flutter shut and your eyebrows knit together in what you think is... pleasure?
Cool air infiltrates between the two of you as he slowly pulls away, the change in temperature gradually stirring you out of an almost dream-like state. You watch him sucking his bottom lip, making sure that a single drop of your blood is not wasted.
As he sits up properly, his arms encircling you pulls you towards him again. Lost in a delicious daze, he presses his forehead against yours. “Thank you, Y/N,” he mumbles to you as you find him nuzzling your face. “Are you feeling okay?”
All you can feel after him feeding from you is a gentle throb on your neck, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. However you do notice, your surroundings spin, your fingers clasp onto his clothing tighter to tether you… “I think so. Perhaps a little dizzy,” you answer.
“Tell me; where is your first aid box?” he asks you softly, his arms remaining around you, keeping you steady. “Need to clean your bite,” he continues as he gently lowers you down, helping you lay back on the couch, before making a move to get off it himself.
“In the cupboard above the microwave,” you answer weakly as you watch him walk towards your kitchen in search of something to clean your wound with. His strides are much more sturdy and his skin has turned to that beautiful tanned colour once again.
If it wasn’t for the room spinning, you actually feel fairly pleasant - maybe a little weak, but there’s something rather relaxing about letting gravity pull you into the cushions of the sofa. Closing your eyes stopped the need to cling onto the furniture for dear life and the image of him nuzzling you replays in your mind.
Unlike with Morbius, you actually feel safe with Miguel. You’ve seen what he’s capable of. How vicious he can be when protecting someone he cares about. And now that he’s been rejuvenated by your blood, you suspect he’ll feel even more obligated to protect you - if you’re as tasty as he says you are...
As he potters around in your kitchen in search of your first aid kit, you continue to think about how he nuzzled you. It was like his feast made him happy, not just stronger. Just thinking about how it felt makes your heart pound even harder than it already is.
Finally, you sense him near you again as he kneels down beside the couch. You hear the zip of the first aid kit opening before the shuffling of the items inside as he searches for what he needs. He splits open a packet containing a wipe for cleaning wounds before you feel the coolness of the damp material glide over your skin, leaving a soothing, tingling trail.
You can tell he’s being very careful with you. Every touch is gentle and soft. Then, you hear him peel open a plaster before smoothing it over the bite.
It’s funny, you think to yourself, that in this mood, he has a very good bedside manner. And it feels like his feeding from you has put him in a much better state of mind. A little bit like how a hangry person is much happier after eating.
Finally, you open your eyes after resting them, and the room has stopped spinning, much to your relief. You’re alone again as Miguel has gone to return everything back to where he found things, but he soon comes back to kneeling next to you, like a loyal knight to his princess.
“I suggest we stay here tonight,” he begins as his serious face partially returns. “You’re weak and it’d be dangerous to have you on the back of the bike.”
A part of you feels relieved to hear that. There’s nothing quite like the comfort of your own bed, and you have access to proper food in your apartment. “What about you? What will you do when I sleep?” you ask as you turn onto your side to see him better.
The corners of his plump lips curl upwards into a soft smile as he looks down at you. “I’ll watch over you - make sure you are okay through the night.”
His words make your heart flutter. Knowing what this man is capable of, it feels nice having someone like him watching over you and looking after you, especially after the horrors you’ve seen in the last twenty-four hours.
Miguel’s expression turns into a pensive one as he starts to wonder. “Have you eaten today? I didn’t take too much blood from you. I can’t understand why you’re so woozy.”
As if on cue, your stomach rumbles as you’re reminded about food. Your hand rests on your middle as you look up at him feeling a little embarrassed. “Not really; there wasn’t much for humans to eat in the shelter,” you answer, hoping not to hear another rumble.
His warm hand wraps around yours. “Lyla will fix that now that she’s staying there for the foreseeable future,” he says softly to you. “Well, as a thank you, I’ll fix up some food for you - under your careful supervision of course.”
You sit on top of a counter as you instruct Miguel on where things are. He turns his nose up at your suggestion of a microwavable meal - he has a more nourishing dish in mind for you to have to help you regain your strength. “When was the last time you cooked?” you ask with an intrigued smile on your face as he collects a frying pan and inspects it.
“Longer than I care to admit,” he answers as he places the utensil on the hob. “But I’ve watched Lyla do it loads. How hard could it be?”
He prepares vegetables and potatoes for you before cracking open a couple of eggs and whisking them up in a glass bowl. You watch him navigate your kitchen, opening up several drawers or cupboards before finding the right equipment to cook you what you suspect is an omelette.
It’s hard not to laugh when he nearly singes his eyebrows off after turning the heat up too much on your hob before igniting the gas. A plume of flame erupts from the vent, making him flinch backwards in surprise. You slip off your countertop and turn down the dial to get it under control again.
“Hmm, Lyla’s one is different,” he mumbles, looking slightly confused as you let him take over again.
With a little bit of correction here and there, you steer him through cooking you a healthy meal. Overall, it was an admirable attempt for someone who hasn’t cooked for over two centuries.
Nestled back down on your couch, Miguel hands you your meal along with some cutlery, the delicious smell of your food wafting up into your face. “Smells good,” you compliment before tucking in.
“Hopefully it tastes as good as it smells,” he replies as he takes a seat on another sofa across from you.
You take in a mouthful of omelette, tasting the comforting combination of cooked egg, cheese and ham. “Mhmmm…” you sigh contentedly and sink back into the cushions. “That’s good.”
A look of pride washes over Miguel’s face as he hears you enjoy the food he cooked for you. While you eat, he pulls out his phone to text Lyla. He doesn’t want her to worry that the both of you haven’t returned to the shelter yet after the ‘errand’ you were supposed to run.
When Lyla replies, he double-takes at the screen. What was that supposed to mean? He often wonders what goes through that silly mind of hers.
As he stuffs his phone back into his pocket, his red eyes wander back over to you enjoying your meal. A smile returns to his face as he observes you eating, knowing that he did that for you. He knew that you had reservations and fears about being bitten, after what Morbius did to you, and yet, you pushed all that aside and helped him. An act he won’t forget any time soon.
“Do you miss it?” your sudden question pierces the silence that has fallen between the two of you.
Despite looking at you, Miguel realises he was in his own little world for a brief moment. He clears his throat and focuses on something else. “Miss what?” he asks, failing to keep his gaze off you for long.
“Food; do you miss eating things?” you clarify before taking another bite. The way he looked at you made you wonder and ask the question. A part of you feels bad for eating in front of him, especially if he missed the experience.
Miguel falls silent again as he ponders. Once more, his eyes move away from you. “I did, for quite some time,” he begins as he runs his fingers through his slicked back hair. “But now it’s mostly forgotten about. A part of me wants to eat to try and appear normal, but I no longer like the taste and can’t stomach it either.”
At least now you feel a little better about eating in front of him, but you find yourself curious over what else he misses about being a human. You go on to ask him before taking your final mouthful of your food.
Miguel leans back into the sofa, resting his head against the cushion, looking up at the ceiling as he thinks. ”I miss the warmth of the sun on my skin; the shade of bright blue in the sky and the sound of birds singing.”
As you listen to his answer, you’re struck with inspiration to try something with him tomorrow, but for now, you’ll continue to enjoy his company.
After some rest and a filling meal, you feel much better. Miguel watches you as you rise from your seat and return your plate to the kitchen. You make a mental note to never take the sun for granted again.
After a quick shower, you feel fully refreshed and ready for sleep in your cosy-looking pj’s. Stepping out of your bedroom and into the lounge you find Miguel idly scrolling on his phone before he looks up at you. He stands up and approaches.
“Are you ready to go to bed?” he asks you as he slides his phone back in his pocket, appreciating how comfortable you look. Then, he gives a gesture to direct you back into your room, but you pause with hesitation.
“You’re not really going to watch over me all night, are you?” you ask nervously. The prospect of you snoring in front of him puts you off the idea.
Miguel smiles at you - a look on his face that is fast becoming your favourite. “Not all night if you don’t want me to,” he answers as you do finally turn back towards your bedroom.
He pulls back your bedsheets. You’re reminded of how he looked when you woke him up earlier this evening, that memory mixing in with the whimpering sounds when he drank from you sends a hot flush running through you.
You climb into bed, but remain sitting as you keep your gaze on him. Your sheets suddenly feel tight across your lap as he sits down on the edge of the mattress, his eyes fixed on yours.
“Does my blood really taste as good as you say?” you ask with intrigue as you struggle to comprehend how such a thing can taste so good.
Miguel nods as he regards you sitting in your bed. You look comfortable and warm. Something he finds himself wishing to experience himself.
Because his body is normally cold, he doesn’t notice the cooler temperatures so much, but this means the warmth feels even more enticing.
“You are the sweetest I have ever tasted. Like a succulent peach, sweet and slightly tangy flavours that dance across my tongue with each mouthful,” his eyes close as he savours the memory in his mind. “You must have a rare blood type. MJ only brings the most common types to the shelter as there are more of them. You certainly are a treat I have never experienced before,” he continues as you spot his gaze lowering to your neck, mentally feasting on you.
“I think I could tell you enjoyed it,” you reply with a tiny smirk as you watch his red eyes lock back onto yours again.
At first, there was shock and surprise over you calling him out on him enjoying feeding from you. But now that he thinks about it, he guesses the noises he made gave the game away pretty quickly.
Drinking from people is a vampire trait he has done his best to ignore. Always striving to seek alternatives, to avoid being labelled as some bloodthirsty beast. But, with you tasting as good as you do, and if you trust him, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to resist the temptation if you happily offer to nourish him like you did today. Just the thought of burying his face into the crook of your neck excites him, in more ways than one - he has just discovered.
Miguel leans in closer towards you, the mattress shifting under his weight. “What if I did enjoy it?” he asks as he puts his hands either side of your legs to support himself. “How could I not?”
For the first time in two centuries, he feels a stirring between his legs. A feeling he thought he’d never experience again. The misery and unjustness of being forced into living an eternally dark life as a vampire puts a dampener on things like sexual urges. Even in more recent times, pretty girls hitting on him did absolutely nothing. And then you come along. Smelling and tasting so sweet and irresistible. You’ve awoken something in him and it’s fogging his mind.
His proximity sets your heart beating faster. Those intense red eyes searching your expression for signs of discomfort with him being so close. But when he sees none, he leans in further still, his lips hovering dangerously near yours.
“What are you doing to me, mi dulzura?” he whispers as you sense him rocking his hips, little do you know it is a feeble attempt to sate his rapidly growing and unignorable erection against the insides of his pants.
In this particular moment, all your knowledge of Spanish deserts your mind, he’s so close to you that you can feel his breath caress your face. “Dulzura?” you repeat his word questioningly as your eyes flit between his almost hypnotic eyes and his enticingly kissable lips.
A large hand cups the side of your face before he leans in even closer to whisper into your ear. “‘Mi dulzura’ means ‘my sweetness.’” His breath against your ear nearly makes you moan, but you’re unable to stop your body from shuddering and leaning into him. In response, he nuzzles against you, letting his gorgeous dark brown hair tickle your face. He breathes deeply, taking in your sweet scent mixing in with the soap you used in your shower. “You smell so fucking good…” he moans out, almost pushing you down into the mattress. Long, tanned fingers tangle in your hair, gently pulling your head to one side so he can smell you again.
“Miguel, don’t drink-” you splutter hastily as you feel his lips against your neck.
“Shhh…” he hushes you before planting a tender kiss against your skin, “I won’t. I promise.”
His large frame that totally dwarfs yours, looms over you on your bed. His strength slowly convinces you to give in and let the both of you enjoy each other. You have to admit, feeling his mouth on your neck is sending shockwaves through your system, tingles down your spine and pulses of heat emanating from your core.
Miguel holds you in his arms as you moan with the sweet attention he’s lavishing against your flesh. “What are you doing to me?” he asks again.
You shake your head timidly. “I… I don’t know. I’m n-not doing anything-” your words cut off as he nuzzles against your face once more.
“I haven’t kissed anyone for over two hundred years,” he continues as his lips trail along your jawline. “I didn’t expect to start again now…”
On top of your moans, you hear his whimpers as you feel his body slowly grinding against yours through the duvet.
Your manicured fingers run through his silky brown locks and clutch his strands between your digits. He groans as he feels you pull at his hair, raising his head higher, bringing him closer to your mouth.
Finally, your hungry mouths unite as his hold on you becomes more desperate.
The kiss almost feels awkward, but you can forgive him for not having much recent practice. However, what you don’t fail to sense is his urgency in his affection. After two centuries, you’d be pretty desperate to feel good with someone you click with too.
Pulling away from the kiss, the pair of you fumble about, yanking and pulling off his ripped jacket and torn shirt, the items of clothing falling clumsily to the floor. You’re speechless, looking up at his magnificent body, becoming bare just for you.
Miguel tuts as frustration rises; the duvet separating the two of you is feeling anything but sexy. He wrenches it off of you before he attacks your pyjama buttons. Each shiny round bit of plastic being squeezed through its respective hole as fast as he possibly can.
Before long, your top half is free as he peels the offending material off of you, tossing it aside. Cool air dances across your chest as he rids you of your clothing, making your skin pebble. His hungry gaze ignites a spark of desire within you, generating hotter pulses from your core.
Yours and his eyes lock together before he leans forwards and presses his lips against your own. His mind works hard on restarting his muscle memory of kissing buried very deep inside. His large hand gently cups your face as you hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, followed by the unzipping of his fly.
It’s at this moment that Miguel finds another rare instance that he’s rather glad that his heart doesn’t beat any more, otherwise he would be distracted and irritated by its nervous and frantic pounding within his chest.
You hear his breathing hitch as you decide to assist him in removing his jeans. Maybe adding a sigh of relief as his throbbing, hardened member feeling better after being released from its tight confines.
Long fingers hook around the elastic of your pyjama bottoms, yanking them down, making short work of removing them and throwing them across the room, not caring where they land.
You are now totally free from clothing, lying in a vulnerable position beneath the giant of a vampire on your bed. His eyes roam over your naked body, frantically drinking in everything he can see as if he’ll never be able to witness such a sexy specimen again.
All that separates you two now is his boxers, hiding away the very thing you’re currently most interested in seeing. You wonder if every part of him is big, and if so, just how big is he?
Miguel’s hands move down your body, making your breathing hitch as his touch tickles and ignites your skin. Down they slide over your breasts, over your hardened peaks and underneath your plump mounds. Next, they traverse over your ribs and down to your stomach, making your muscles twitch and flex as he strokes you. Your body has been the first he’s seen for two centuries, and you notice he’s touching you and looking at you with utter reverence, like you are some kind of goddess blessing his unworthy eyes.
Miguel’s lips part as he languidly licks them hungrily, but not in a threatening or dangerous manner. His fingers travel even further down to your hips, procuring a needy moan from you.
Then, as if it was designed to be a cruel tease - or a test to see just how much you want him - he pulls his hands away before they get to caressing your thighs. You give a little squeak of protest. His warm, tanned hands make up for it by finally pushing the hem of his boxers down, revealing the very thing that you’ve been wondering about.
His hard, long, thick length springs free after being snagged by the elastic of his underwear as he leans over you to pull them off completely; shifting his weight over you, radiating his warmth down onto your skin.
He leans in closer, making you gasp and close your eyes, the warm air generated by the both of you wafting over your face. You feel his nose press into your neck as he smells you again before letting out a whiney moan. “I need you,” he pleads desperately against your temple, his hips pressing into you, demonstrating just how much he does. Feeling the hardness of his length and hearing the urgency in his voice sends you spiralling into a deep well of desire and lust. Your lips part as you search for something of his face to kiss, he’s so close and yet, seemingly too far when he’s nuzzling you or burying his nose into the crook of your neck. It’s time to take matters into your own hands.
Reaching up to his face, you cup his cheeks with both hands and pull him closer to your lips. His whimpering stops momentarily as he starts to realise what you’re doing is your proof of acceptance.
Relief washes over him as he feels your lips caress his strong jaw, gradually working their way up to his mouth. Every kiss is punctuated with his hips pressing into you, followed by little whines. The relief he felt did not last long however. He may know you want him, but he needs you now. He aches, he throbs and he twitches, and it’s all for you.
His mouth finds yours as he uses his knees to separate your legs and wraps his arms around you, caging you underneath him. Your lips can feel the presence of his fangs, but he’s careful not to let them snag on anything that’ll hurt.
“I warn you now,” he pants as one of his hands reaches down to his shaft, palming it gently. “I’m a little rusty…” he chuckles slightly, “but I’ll make it up to you…”
Miguel is practically lying flat on top of you, between your legs and in the perfect position for you to take him in. The both of you moan needily as you feel the tip of his cock press against your entrance. It’s happening… If someone told you yesterday that you’d be in bed with a vampire in the next twenty-four hours, you would have very likely laughed at the absurdity.
“Please, Miguel…” you beg him to enter you as you long to feel him inside, stretching your walls around him.
Miguel doesn’t need to be told twice. The moment you utter your plea, he takes the plunge, pushing himself deep inside, arching his back and exposing his fangs in a silent roar of pure pleasure. The sensation he didn’t know he missed so badly.
The look on your face alone as you react to him infiltrating you is almost enough for him to explode instantly. The rocking of his body halts as he tries to quell the urge to climax early. He observes you from above, watching your content and blissful expressions etched all over your face. He can’t possibly ruin it for you just yet…
His pause prompts you to use your hands that are resting on the small of his back to pull him in further, taking him even deeper.
“Fuck!” he growls, “I’m so fucking close already…” He closes his eyes in an attempt to reduce the overload of sexiness, to calm the fires of desire coursing through his veins. But, he continues, drawing back his hips before thrusting in again.
The room fills with your noises of pleasure, accompanied by the bed creaking and the banging of the headboard against the wall. However, every movement of Miguel’s has a fifty-fifty chance of him blowing a load prematurely. To him, you feel so exquisitely tight, and he, massively underfucked; a dangerous mix of circumstances to have in the midst of passionate and needy lovemaking.
You moan so sweetly for him as every vigorous pump fills you to capacity, the beautiful sound only contributing to his looming urge to release. The in-and -out motions firing countless tingles around your body and generating a tightening sensation in your lower abdomen especially when his pelvis rubs against your sensitive bud. “M-Miguel!~” you call out desperately, alerting him to your impending climax as your irresistible body rocks under his heavy influence.
No more words are required from you for him to understand what you’re trying to tell him. The tone of your voice says it all. But, instead of strengthening his resolve and pushing through his urges, the desperation in your voice simply pushes him over the edge he had been so feebly holding onto since the very beginning; putting an embarrassing end to his campaign for finishing last. His eyes slam shut as he grunts heavily, thrusting his pulsing and throbbing cock hard into you, spilling his release deep inside. “FUCK!” he roars before gritting his teeth.
Your gasp of surprise and mournful look spread across your face tells Miguel that he cannot stop, despite now feeling oversensitive and buzzing wildly with tingles.
Breathing heavily, wrapping an arm underneath you and using his other hand to cup your cheek as he presses his body lower onto you, he murmurs into your ear. “I’ll get better at this, I promise…” He feels your arms and legs wrap around him, trapping him between your smooth thighs, ensuring he doesn’t go anywhere.
Now it’s your turn to whimper as the climax that has been building has now diminished, deflating like a sad balloon with a slow puncture, your desperate noises spurring him on to continue. “Don’t worry, mi dulzura,” he grunts, trying to sound reassuring as he starts moving again, “I’ve got you.”
There’s something in the way he touches you and the way he looks at you. You know deep down he’ll deliver. He won’t let something like an early climax get in the way. Thankfully for the both of you, the all important part of him remained hard after the result of his eagerness.
You’re torn between closing your eyes and keeping them peeled. His vigorous efforts are so delicious that you simply feel like melting into the mattress as he grinds against you, closing your eyes and getting lost in the moment. Simultaneously, you want to keep your eyes open, so you can watch this masterpiece lavish you with attention. You can’t deny observing his beautiful face etched in pleasure is a turn on in itself, if your eyes were closed, you’d miss such a pleasant sight. To resolve the debate in your mind, you alternate between the two options every now and then. Getting the best of both worlds.
Strong arms wrap around you, protectively holding you as he makes love to you. His behaviour is as if you’re his and no one else’s. His close proximity, leaving no gap between the two of you as your bodies connect.
You love how your breasts squish against his pecs. How with every thrust, you hear him pant in your ear. How every thrust feels stronger than the last. How his panting now sounds as though they’re turning into aggressive grunts before you realise he’s practically rutting into you.
That tightening in your lower abdomen returns and he can feel it too, your inner walls clenching around his already sensitive cock.
“M-Miguel, I’m close!~” you call out with urgency.
“Lo sé, mi dulzura-“ (I know, my sweetness) he grunts aggressively again as he pushes on, working on you harder.
Observing Miguel through half-lidded eyes, you think he looks good on top of you. He certainly feels good inside of you... The way his muscles flex with every wild pump makes your mouth water as you fantasise biting and licking them.
You have never felt so full in your life - no previous lover has been even close to Miguel’s size. And he feels right for you, as if he was made for you.
As promised, you can tell he’s doing everything he can to make it up to you for cumming too early. Now he’s got the novelty out the way, you can feel his efforts are becoming increasingly focussed on giving you what you need and now you’re teetering on the edge of oblivion.
Your mouth forms an almost perfect ‘O’ as he pushes himself all the way in and simply grinds his gorgeously defined pelvis against your clit.
It’s as if your body suffers an internal nuclear explosion. Obliterating absolutely everything in its path and leaving nothing in its wake. Your back arches, your toes curl and your nails dig into his skin before you let out the loudest, grisliest moan to have ever left your lips. But he doesn’t stop there. Miguel pushes through your mind-blowing climax, prolonging it as long as he can for you. There is a look of pride on his face knowing he gave you that experience. After two centuries of no intimacy or affection, he can make a girl forget who she is for a moment, just to be lost to the purest of pleasures.
As he feels the repetitive clamping around his manhood die down, he rests his body on top of yours, being mindful not to crush you. He cups your face with his large hands, searching for signs of you coming back to Earth after such a stratospheric-breaching experience. While he waits, he nestles his face in the crook of your neck, just smelling your sweet scent as he remains inside you, and seated comfortably between your legs.
Finally your breathing slows and you become aware of your surroundings once more. A contented smile forms on your face when you feel Miguel nuzzling against your neck after he pulls out and moves to your side.
“I told you that I’d make up for it…” he whispers into your ear as he rests his arm over you, pulling you in close.
His cheek feels warm under your fingers as you caress him, while your eyes lock on to one another. “I didn’t doubt you for a second,” you reply as you watch the brightest smile flash across his lips and a gleam ignites in his blood-red eyes.
The feeling of his fingers dancing up and down your chest and stomach steals your attention, making you watch his gentle movements as you both soak up everything that has just happened. Goosebumps on your skin rise as a result of his soft and tender touch.
As if struck by lightning, Miguel pauses suddenly as a thought enters his mind. While his long fingers glide over your chest, he is reminded that underneath your supple, youthful flesh, is a beating heart.
Noticing that he has stopped, you glance at him to check on him. “Are you alright, Miguel?” you ask as you observe his expression of sudden realisation, his attention transfixed on his hand over your chest.
He says nothing, but simply presses his warm hand between your breasts, his fingers splaying out wide to find the very thing that gives you life. The very thing that hasn’t thumped inside his own chest for such a long time.
Miguel feels it. A soft and steady thud repeating beneath his fingers. The large organ within you is responsible for pumping that delicious blood around your body. It’s such a beautiful feeling, and he wagers it’s a beautiful sound just as much, if not more.
You realise exactly what he’s doing and it’s such a touching moment to witness - if not slightly sad. To help him, you hold your hand over his, pressing it harder against your chest to make it feel more pronounced.
Bushy dark-brown eyebrows knit together with emotion as he notices your sweet gesture. A faint smile grows across his face, softening his furrowed brows once again as he slowly falls in love with the feeling of your beating heart. It feels crazy that something so simple like a heartbeat being felt can be something so sorely missed. A constant ticking within you, reminding you that you are alive, alerting you to danger or telling you that you’re starting to develop deep feelings for someone.
Miguel shifts his weight slightly before hesitation gives him pause. His red eyes look at you almost pleadingly. “Can I… listen to it?”
How can you possibly deny this usually stoic man who is practically putty in your hands right now? That pleading look on his face makes your heart flutter, which, you’re pretty sure he can feel right now. You give him a nod with a smile to tell him to go ahead.
His body almost acts as a blanket - it’s certainly warm enough - as he lies on top of you again. But this time, his head is nestled in the valley of your breasts as his arms wrap around underneath you.
Looking down at the adorable sight below you, you notice his little curls at the back of his head, which look far too tempting not to touch. Reaching out, your fingers intertwine with his silky smooth locks, stroking him as he relaxes into your embrace and listens.
With his ear pressed against your chest, he revels in the sound of your heart and the fact that you’re playing with his hair almost makes him sleepy, despite it technically being in the middle of his ‘day’. His eyelids feel heavy as he focuses on the gentle thump, thump, thump of your heart.
Your bedroom descends into silence after you turn the bedside lamp off and get settled in your bed once again. The weight of Miguel’s body on top of yours provides a certain level of warmth and security; and after the kind of day you’ve had, this is exactly what you need. Your eyes gradually close as you listen to the sound of Miguel’s deep breathing and drift off into a long and restful sleep.
Feeling relatively well rested and still content from the activities of the night before, you wake to discover Miguel sleeping peacefully beside you. Glancing up at your black-out curtains, you see a golden crest of sunlight peeking around the edges of the thick material, meaning it was time for Miguel to sleep and for you to get up.
Soft snores fill the air as he lay on his side, facing you. You like to think he fell asleep just watching you. You’re not sure if he did it deliberately, but you notice the bedsheets only cover his hips and the lower half of his body. The sexy display almost makes your mouth water.
Leaning over towards him, you softly caress his cheek before brushing his dishevelled hair off his face. Despite feeling warm the night before, you notice his skin feels cooler now. You suspect he’ll need to drink again before you both go to the shelter again tonight. If that’s the case, you need to make sure you have eaten enough throughout the day so you can remain stable after you let him feed from you.
Last night’s feeding experience wasn’t as traumatic as you expected it to be, however, Morbius didn’t exactly set a good example. Miguel knew you were scared and he took good care of you. So much so, you would happily help him if he needs it; now that you trust him not to take advantage.
Turning on your phone’s torch, you locate your pyjamas - a chuckle almost escapes your lips as you see how far and wide both your top and trousers are apart from one another. Miguel was definitely over enthusiastic when he undressed you…
Before starting work, you notice that Miguel spent some of his waking hours cleaning up the kitchen after the mess he made when he cooked you dinner. Washed plates are stacked neatly by the sink - you guess he probably couldn’t work out how to use your dishwasher. A smile creeps across your face as you find what he did was exceedingly cute. He may appear grumpy and stoic, but deep down, he’s really quite sweet and considerate. Also, a part of you feels relieved he didn’t lay there and watch or listen to you sleep the whole night…
You spend the first half of the day lazing about in your apartment, working in your warm pyjamas. Your boss still seems a little cranky that you aren’t in the office today, but at least you’re not off ‘sick’.
Since deciding to shelve, or even better, ditch the developing dead rat story that you originally were writing for the Daily Bugle, you now have to find something else to report about. Annoyingly, you have received an email from your boss to chase you on any other findings you may have gathered since you last wrote. For now, you can use the excuse of being unwell to keep him at bay, but now it’s time to start that internal panic, yet again, to find something else to set your sights on.
Even though you despise the usual office noise, sitting in a silent apartment is equally terrible. You grab the remote and aim it at your TV to turn it on. Your thumb repeatedly presses on a button to lower the volume to keep it quiet so you don’t wake Miguel up, but the constant talking on the channel is a comfort.
Nueva York News, or NYN, comes up on your widescreen TV. A neatly dressed woman sits at a large desk in the centre of the frame as she reads the autocue and delivers the news while you absentmindedly chew on the end of your pen.
“In other news, Doctor Otto Octavius, a promising nuclear physicist, has donated a large contribution towards Nueva York’s school for young and upcoming scientists. This is before he is due to receive his nobel prize in physics in the coming weeks…”
Your eyes glance up at the TV and listen to what the news channel has to say about the impressive-sounding nuclear physicist. A faint smile flickers across your face when you think about the young people who will benefit with the contribution that the school has received. How many young minds will be inspired and dare to go beyond, like this Doctor Octavius. Maybe they too can one day be nobel prize winners. You wonder what kind of benefit to humanity they could bring.
Entering his name into Google, you call up some information about him, and you’re struck with inspiration for something new to write.
Your fingers fly over the keyboard as you cook up an article singing his praises. A stark contrast to the last news item you wrote. You hope it will distract your boss from the lack of development on the dying rats story and it’ll be something soon forgotten.
In the afternoon, you finally decide to get dressed. Meaning that you are fumbling about in your room, desperately trying not to wake Miguel up. As you shimmy into your clothes awkwardly in a mostly dark room, you see from the outline of his magnificent body that he has turned over, burying his head partially under a pillow. For a brief moment, you allow yourself to shine your phone’s light against his back, highlighting the definition of his muscles, and the little scratch marks that you left on him when he delivered you to that delicious orgasm last night. With a bite of a lip and a near moan, you lower your phone and turn the light off before searching in your ensuite for something.
You’re packed; everything you need to take back to the shelter is piled by your door. All you need now is Miguel, who’s still sleeping soundly as the sun is still up, although it is slowly making its way down towards the horizon.
Entering your bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed. Using the softest voice you can muster, you call his name to rouse him. You learned your lesson yesterday when you tried shaking him awake; although the idea of being trapped underneath him again crosses your mind and makes you press your thighs together to quell your arousal. “Miguel…” His name feels soft on your lips. You’ve decided it’s something fun to mutter, whisper or scream out in pleasure.
Your gentle voice slowly wakes him, generating a deep groan coming from inside his broad chest. You watch his body slowly turn over to face you again as his tired eyes gradually open. He stretches and yawns, every muscle out on display flexing as he tenses them to wake up his sleepy, heavy limbs.
“What time is it?” he croaks, his voice not properly woken up yet either.
“Just gone five PM,” you answer him softly as you watch him double-take and blink at you for a moment. Then he looks at the curtains to see a faint glow of light around the edges.
“But, it’s still light outside,” he grumbles as he rubs his eyes.
You smile sweetly at him. “I want to try something,” begin to explain your reason for waking him up early.
Miguel looks at you quizzically as he begins to wake up a little more. “And what do you want to try, mi dulzura?” he asks as he props himself up on his elbows, partially sitting as he takes in your rather proud expression as you produce a bottle of sun cream.
Red eyes dart from the yellow bottle in your hand back up to your eyes, clearly not making the connections just yet.
“Get dressed,” you reply, sounding very vague, as you get up off the bed and gather his clothes from your floor.
“Ooookay…” he sighs as he begrudgingly pulls the duvet back.
Standing outside your bedroom, you wait for Miguel to emerge fully dressed. Your fingers tap rhythmically against the sun cream bottle. Finally, the door clicks open to reveal a slightly grouchy, pouty Miguel. Apart from the ripped clothing, he is back to looking neat and tidy. His gorgeous hair almost perfectly slicked back. The odd curl of dark brown locks flop over his face.
“Are you going to tell me what you’re hoping to achieve with that?” he asks, gesturing to the bottle in your hand to which you answer with a nod and a wide smile.
Stepping forward, you begin to explain as you present the sun cream to him. “Ultraviolet light hurts vampires, right?” you ask, raising your eyebrows expectantly as you hope he starts to connect the dots.
“Yes?” he confirms as he looks between you and the bottle again. Perhaps his sleepiness makes him slow…
“Well, sun cream blocks damaging UV light,” you continue as you watch him finally put the puzzle pieces together. “I want to show you the colour of the sky while there’s still daylight, but you have to be quick, the sun will set soon.” Before you even make a move, Miguel wraps his arms around you and pulls you in for a meaningful embrace.
“...I can’t believe I have never thought of this,” he gives you a tighter squeeze, “thank you.”
Your heart sings and you’re unable to stop a wide, beaming smile from spreading across your face. With your limited movement, you move your arms that are squeezed underneath his to hug whatever you can of him. “I’m glad you like the idea, but… time’s ticking.”
“Oh,” he releases you, “right. Of course…” His large hands rest on his hips as he looks down at you. “What do I need to do?”
Pumping the dispenser a couple of times, you collect a puddle of cream in your open palm. “You’re mostly covered up, but we should protect your face and hands,” you step forward. “Close your eyes,” you instruct him as you reach up to gently rub the cream into his soft, tanned skin.
He stands there, eyes closed with a nervous smile on his plump lips as he feels the moisture being spread gently and tenderly on his face, ears and back of his neck.
“It’s the strongest factor of sun protection too, to make extra sure you’re safe,” you explain as you now pick up one of his large hands, making yours look so comically small in comparison.
Now fully slathered up, you guide Miguel to the roof of your apartment building. Naturally, he hangs back as he watches you step outside in such a carefree manner. Cautiously peeking out from underneath the door frame on the roof, he can already spot the bright and rich pinks and oranges cast across the sky as the sun continues its slow descent towards the western horizon. A beautiful mix of colours he had assumed he’d never see again.
“Try your hand first,” you suggest as you reach out for his hand to take.
At first he almost panics. Expecting searing pain the very moment that the rays of the setting sun touches his skin. But instead, he feels warmth gracing his flesh in the mild autumnal air. He shuffles further forward, almost not believing what he’s witnessing, or feeling.
You watch him slowly come out from his cover, as if he is a man who has never seen the sun before. Looking as though the concept of daylight and bright colours in the outside world is alien to him. Knowing that he hasn’t suddenly gone up in smoke, you pull him further out, which you notice he doesn’t resist.
“I never thought I’d ever say that something so simple like the sky being one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen in a long time,” he mutters in awe before he lets go of your hand and wraps his arm around your shoulders, bringing you in close against his side.
The pair of you stand in blissful silence together as you rest your head against his shoulder.
Miguel refuses to leave the roof until he watches the last sliver of the sun disappear below the city skyline and horizon. Even still, he needed you to gently tug on his jacket to bring him back to the real world.
“We should get going Miguel,” you speak to him softly as you swear you can see his eyes looking a little watery. Whether it’s from emotion or that he has been staring for so long, you do not know.
Eventually he nods and looks down at you. “Thank you for giving me that opportunity, Y/N. This will be a memory I will truly treasure.”
You take his hand and give it a firm squeeze. But now, the darkness of the glittering evening sky is shrouding the city once again, enabling beasts of the night to roam free.
Returning to your apartment you pick up your backpack and your laptop bag. You have to travel light as you’re stuck with limited storage space on a Harley Davidson, but you think you have all of your essentials. You look at Miguel before you leave. “Do you feel okay to ride the bike? You’re not in need of a drink?” This is something you have been preparing yourself for by making sure you ate enough during the day.
A smile spreads across his face as he caresses your cheek. “I’d love to taste you again, mi dulzura, but I can last a little longer. I’m fine,” he assures you.
You give him a nod and escort him out of your apartment, giving it one last look as you are not sure when you’ll next be back. Twisting the key in the lock, you hear it click before you pull it out and stow it in your coat pocket.
Approaching the bike, Miguel takes your laptop bag and slots it into one of the cases flanking the rear wheel of the vehicle. Thankfully it fits nicely. As for your backpack, that will have to stay on your back.
After sending a message to Lyla, Miguel puts his phone back in his pocket. “Just told Lyla we’re on our way back to the shelter now,” he says as he effortlessly swings his leg over the saddle and perches himself on the bike, his long leg kicking back the stand.
Placing your foot on a foot-rest and gripping his shoulders, you hoist yourself up and wedge yourself in behind him on the seat. Feeling his peachy rear nestled between your thighs now brings a smile to your face; not just a wild blush like yesterday. Not only that, you get to wrap your arms around his narrow waist. This time, your fingers almost squeeze whatever you get your mitts on, which produces a smile on Miguel’s lips as well as yours.
You don’t think you’ll ever get used to a Harley Davidson’s engine being switched on. It makes you jump when the deep and vicious-sounding, growling rumble erupts from the engine turning over underneath you.
The motorcycle rolls off, the deep idling pur turning into a fierce growl the faster it goes. It weaves in and out of lanes, expertly guided by its rider. His silky, dark brown locks wave in the breeze.
Holding on tightly, you enjoy the closeness between the two of you. Every now and then, your grip around him strengthens, giving him a reassuring squeeze.
Buildings and other vehicles pass by as Miguel snakes the bike between lanes as he navigates the busy streets of Nueva York.
Apart from the regular rush hour traffic, everything seems normal for you. However, you can feel Miguel tense up within your grasp. He seems uneasy all of a sudden and his bike slows as he hesitates. You tap your hand against his side to get his attention. “You okay?” you ask with a concerned expression on your face. The thoughts of him being hungry and his energy dwindling crosses your mind.
Miguel turns his head slightly as he guides the bike down a straight road. “Something’s not right,” he answers as he turns his head back in front again. “We’re being followed.”
You immediately turn your head to look behind you, but all you see is regular rush hour traffic - honestly, what were you expecting? Turning back to face Miguel, your heart pounds as you begin to worry what this will mean. “How do you know?” you ask as the bike slows even more while approaching a red light, the engine noise now lowering back to an idle pur.
Miguel’s body feels highly strung, his nerves are firing on all cylinders. “I can sense them behind us, and now we’re stuck in traffic… Perfect,” he answers as his keen eyes watch the traffic passing by on the crossroads in front of him. After a few seconds, he turns his head again, a subtle glance over his shoulder as he speaks once more. “The case to the right of the rear wheel,” he begins as you turn your attention to it. “Open it, and there will be a gun and several magazines.”
Oh no, not again… You think to yourself as your heart begins to hammer at the grim prospect of shooting vampires again. After opening the case, you reach inside with a trembling hand and find a pre-loaded gun.
“There’s six shots per clip,” Miguel continues. “They’re going to know we’re onto them, so we have to try and use this red light to our advantage,” Miguel continues. “Hold tight.”
Cars cross ahead of you at the crossroad intersection as the red light glares down on the both of you. What does he mean, use the light to your advantage? But then you feel his right arm tense as he twists the throttle back. The sound of rubber squealing shrilly mixes with the roaring engine until the wheel finally bites the tarmac and throws the bike forward, making you cling onto Miguel tightly.
You scream as you swear you see your life flash before you while Miguel directs the motorcycle into a busy stream of traffic. Most of the vast cluster of cars behind you remain stationary, while the ones in pursuit of you begin to try and creep forward and spot a gap in the busy traffic to follow you both.
Car horns and screeching brakes join in with your screams as Miguel cuts his bike through very finely into the steady flow of traffic, pushing the vehicle, as well as willing it perhaps, to go faster. So much so, the rear wheel swerves left and right, making him work hard to keep the Harley Davidson upright. You feel him lean back to put more weight on the fishtailing wheel to gain better traction; forcing you backwards too. Once again you’re racing off in a sturdy fashion, out of the other side of the traffic, and miraculously not dead...
You don’t know how many cars came close to hitting the both of you and you’re pretty sure you went blind with fear. Your entire body feels like it’s encased in ice as your blood runs cold.
Annoyingly, the set of traffic lights behind you have now changed, allowing the cars that were stuck in traffic to begin catching up. Looking back, it’s now obvious which ones are in pursuit as they scramble as best they can to the front to make chase. “Uh… they’re coming!” you shout out as your one arm wrapped around Miguel’s front squeezes tighter.
“Get ready to shoot. If they level with us, don’t hold back - Shit!” Miguel yells with irritation. As well as chasers behind the both of you, he can sense more coming from in front of you at the next intersection.
Steering the bike to the right, he prepares to take it down a highway, which means taking your journey back to Las Sombras on a more scenic route around the city.
Another scream erupts from your mouth as he suddenly steers the motorcycle to the right, taking a road you weren’t expecting, dangerously merging with traffic coming from the left. More car horns beep furiously at Miguel for what they consider is his careless driving, followed by pursuing vehicles.
”They’re catching up,” he turns his head as he suddenly senses something. “On your nine o’clock!”
Turning to your left, you raise your gun and focus on a car driving erratically to catch up with you, the nose of the vehicle inching closer and closer to Miguel’s rear wheel, in an attempt to side-swipe it. Confident with your aim, you fire back towards the driver, instantly causing thousands of lines to crack across the windscreen as the car swerves violently, almost colliding with others.
What you don’t expect is a cloud of black mist to appear on the hood of the rapidly slowing car before a winged vampire takes flight.
“Did you get them?” Miguel shouts as he keeps his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
“I think I got the driver, but he had a buddy with him,” you answer as you watch the vampire gain more height before barrelling down towards the both of you. Before saying anything else, you instinctively raise your weapon again and shoot, hitting the vampire in the shoulder. He screams in agony as you suspect this gun is also loaded with silver bullets.
Adding to the chaos, the vampire you have just injured goes crashing into the vehicle behind; you’re not sure if it’s a civilian’s car or not.
Hearing tire screeches and a car hitting a crash barrier, Miguel curses again. Morbius is becoming more and more reckless, and now he’s sending what Miguel can only guess are his minions to do his dirty work in trying to stop his enemy from interrupting his plans to find a cure. Despite Miguel’s best efforts to keep the vampire's existence a secret in Nueva York, Morbius has gone ahead and practically blown their cover. If Nueva York doesn’t wake up tomorrow to newspaper headlines claiming vampires exist, he would consider it an absolute miracle.
Now that the secret is becoming essentially the metaphorical cat out of the bag, his prime goal is to get the both of you to safety without being followed. Miguel steps up his game. His eyes scan ahead, looking for any potential openings to lane hop and gain more ground between the both of you and your pursuers.
Just as he finds a spot, he senses another car manoeuvring after swerving wildly to avoid the crashing cars. It’s gaining fast and is directly behind, threatening to bump the rear wheel of the Harley. “On your six!” Miguel calls out again, making you adjust your aim behind you. It’s an awkward angle, but you stretch your right arm as far as possible before pulling the trigger. That’s another windscreen wrecked, but you’re not sure whether anyone got hurt.
Once again, another vampire appears via mist and launches themselves from the car before it slows and veers off to the right.
If shooting at the car was awkward, aiming at the inbound vampire is much worse. The widest thing you can possibly hit is the membrane of his wings, but that won’t do a lot of damage or hurt that much.
Feeling how close the vampire is behind, Miguel advances the bike as he tries to snag an opening in front in another lane, nudging it ever so slightly out of the beast’s reach. In a panic, the vampire stretches out with one arm and grips onto the back of the bike before being dragged along the tarmac.
Feeling uncomfortable shooting a vampire point blank in the face, regardless of their intentions, you press your silver ringed finger into the beast’s hand in an attempt to get him to let go by scorching his skin.
He howls in agony as his skin starts to sizzle. You press harder, adding a crushing pressure to the searing pain to the point of forcing the vampire to release the bike from his clutches. With wide terrified eyes, you watch him fall, hit the road and disappear under the wheels of a car behind, making you wince and look away.
The highway allows traffic to drive around the city instead of travelling through it. Intersections are dotted along the busy road every few miles, allowing drivers to get on and off the highway at multiple points around the city. Spotting the next intersection, Miguel leaves it to the last second to take the exit, fleeing the chasing cars, leaving them to continue on along the highway.
Even though the Harley continued to roar down the exit ramp, there was peace, allowing you to take a much needed breath. Your left arm has returned to gripping around Miguel’s middle, in hope to ground your body that is currently shaking like a leaf in gale force winds.
The motorcycle turns down a quieter street as Miguel starts to navigate the both of you back to Las Sombras.
You feel a cool hand cover yours for a brief moment as you clutch onto Miguel’s shirt. It gives your small hand a reaffirming squeeze before returning back to the left handle. He can tell you’re scared and he wants to try and make you feel better. Sadly, he suspects the pursuers will take the next exit and try to intercept.
The pair of you are surrounded by fewer cars, and given how much more relaxed Miguel feels in your hold, you suspect you’re currently free from threats.
“You did well, mi dulzura,” he compliments you as he talks to you over his shoulder before taking the bike down yet another road. The both of you lean with the motorcycle as it turns the corner.
“Th-thanks…” you stutter as you recall the unwelcome memory of the vampire being run over, making you shudder more violently in the process.
Miguel’s riding is more daring, you notice. Instead of slowing down when seeing a traffic light about to turn red, he speeds up in the hope that it’ll put more distance between you and those who are in pursuit.
Now in a much quieter part of the city, you are thankful for the peace. There are no revving cars behind you, snapping at your heels in chase. Even Miguel seems to be calmer, not riding the bike quite so erratically, thinking a mile a minute to get yourselves out of trouble. You both know you’re close to Las Sombras, some of the streets are starting to look familiar.
As you turn the final corner, you instantly feel Miguel’s body tensing up again, causing your heart to beat wildly. So much so, you think he might be able to feel it against his back.
Dead ahead is a man crossing the road close to Las Sombras. You suspect he’s not just any man though, as Miguel’s left hand gropes around yours to locate the gun, as his bike rolls slowly down the road, buying himself some time.
The moment the man notices the bike, he stops in the middle of the street and stares ominously towards the both of you.
“How many shots are left?” you hear Miguel mutter to you as lowly as possible.
“Three,” you reply confidently, you only fired three rounds earlier. Your hand carefully presses the gun into Miguel’s.
Two blades shine under the streetlights from either side of the road as they’re drawn from their sheaths belonging to the man. It’s clear he’s no friend of yours.
Miguel feel’s your grip on him loosen the moment you see the blades and he catches your arm. “Trust me, you’re safer on the bike.”
The moment he feels you hold tight and duck as low as possible behind him, he revs the engine aggressively as it springs forward, like a horse bolting from its gate.
He charges towards the blade-wielding enemy, getting his bike up to speed so he no longer needs to use the clutch to change gear. Every second he gets closer, his keen eyes remain fixed on his target as he gets into a good range. He raises his left arm, - admittedly not his favoured hand - takes aim and rests his finger on the trigger. Bang! A shot rings out, making you flinch.
To Miguel’s irritation, his target, blessed with vampiric speed, deflects the shot with his blade, letting the silver bullet ricochet off to the side.
As the bike gets closer, you hear another shot ring out, followed immediately by a clang of the bullet striking the blade again. A deep growl rumbles in Miguel’s chest from rustration. There’s one shot left.
The Harley Davidson is approaching the crossroads neighbouring Las Sombras, as the other vampire begins his charge forward from the otherside, blades raised, ready to strike. However, another presence tells Miguel to jam his brakes on, making the both of you lurch forward and the wheels screech against the tarmac. He turns the bike suddenly, stopping several metres in front of the vampire, making you grip onto him with both your arms and thighs as you squeal.
Bright lights emerge from the perpendicular road at the intersection as a car screams into view. Wheels screeching and engine revving to high heaven, making your head pop up to see what’s going on. The vehicle barrels into the vampire, mowing him over before screeching to a stop a few feet away from its now motionless target.
Silence fills the air momentarily before a woman and a man with wild hair steps out of the vehicle, pump-action shotgun poised. Your heart leaps at the sight as Lyla and Hobie start to take care of the situation.
Miguel’s business partner beckons to the both of you, calling you to get the bike into the alley and retreat into the silent nightclub as Hobie kicks the limp body over and aims the shotgun directly down to the injured vampire before pulling the trigger. The slug, full of silver shrapnel, bursts out of the muzzle, before Hobie pumps the fore-end again and releases a second shot. Finally, the body silently dissolves into ash as you and Miguel pass safely.
Moments after stepping into Las Sombras and watching Miguel lock the door, the remaining pursuing cars arrive and slowly stalk by the nightclub’s entrance. With an expression full of concern you look up at Miguel as he observes the vehicles intently with dark, red eyes. His arm spreads out in front of you and pulls you away from the door, further into the darkness of the mostly empty establishment. Then, his gaze lands on Lyla. “How did you know to come out and look for us?”
Lyla takes off her large white coat and hangs it over her arm. “You didn’t come back when I expected you to. I started to prepare for a drive to go looking for you, Hobie called shotgun - literally.”
Hobie snorts as he places the shotgun down on the bar and looks at both you and Miguel. “What happened out there?”
“Chaos,” Miguel simply answers as he presses his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Absolute. Fucking. Chaos,” he lets out an exasperated sigh. “It’s going to be all over the news tomorrow. Multiple car pile-ups on the highway. Reports of vampire sightings. Shots fired. You name it,” he now rests his hands on his hips, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
The British man whips out his phone. “I can’t help with nosey journalists, mate - no offence,” he pauses and looks at you. “...or shit that goes up on the internet, but, you don’t need to worry about trouble from the rozzers (police),” he begins as he taps out a message. “I’ve got someone from the inside who will keep them off your backs.”
Miguel sighs with relief. “Well, that’s something, I guess…” he murmurs before looking back at Hobie. “Thank you,” he continues, his voice sounding genuinely thankful for the slight respite. “What about tomorrow though?”
You clear your throat and step into the conversation. “Tomorrow hasn’t happened yet. We don’t know what’s going to happen or how people will react,” you begin as the other three look at you. “I don’t think we can be proactive here. Tomorrow, we can monitor the situation and make adjustments if needed. The biggest fish to fry is Morbius, right?”
Miguel and Lyla share a look, an unspoken conversation taking place between them. You suspect Lyla agrees with you.
“Mate, rest up. Don’t stress over what’s not happened yet,” Hobie wades in after putting his phone away in his pocket.
You, Lyla and Hobie all look up at Miguel as he gets his thoughts in order. There is, as of right now, nothing he can do. Another sigh leaves his lips as his gaze lowers to the floor, reluctantly accepting loss of control over the situation. “Alright, but tomorrow we’ll keep an eye on the news and the civilian’s responses,” he says as both Lyla and Hobie nod in agreement.
Eventually all four of you make your way down into the shelter and Miguel helps you bring your things into your room. The moment your door closes behind the both of you, you’re immediately engulfed in his arms while his lips attack yours in a passionate kiss. The drama you have both experienced this evening has led to raising Miguel’s emotions, overwhelming him with concern and adoration for you.
His hands cup the sides of your face as he deepens the kiss, his lips caress yours before his tongue traces a teasing, tickling line across them. The sudden act leaves you breathless and stunned, but as you settle into his affections, your hands creep up his front under his open leather jacket, splaying your fingers wide over his abdomen and chest.
Miguel’s teasing across your lips finally persuades you to open them and let him in, generating a deep moan to rise from this chest. But before he gets too carried away, he pulls back, allowing you both to breathe. He rests his forehead against yours as his thumbs brush along your cheekbones. “Are you okay, mi dulzura?” he asks you with a breathy voice.
That passionate moment has stolen your voice, your throat dry all of a sudden. You simply nod in response as you clear your throat.
The pair of you look at one another, a connection deepening between you.
“I’m proud of you, mi dulzura. You’re stronger and braver than you think,” he whispers before giving you another quick kiss on your lips. “Not to mention wise and caring,” he pauses as he looks down at you as he smiles slightly. “I’m sorry for being the way I was with you the other night. You didn’t deserve my comments about Morbius fooling you. He’s played us all in one way or another.”
Being mindful not to touch his skin with your rings, your hands cup his face too. His apology and sweet words you can tell are from his heart, beating or not. You clear your throat before responding. “It’s all water under the bridge. You have worked hard to build this place, prepare it for vampires who need help and protect them. I can only begin to imagine the stress you’re under.”
Miguel’s strong arms wrap around you and hold you close, bringing your head to his chest as he rests his chin on top. Long fingers stroke your hair delicately as he closes his eyes momentarily, enjoying the affectionate moment. “You should rest. I’ll get Lyla to order you a takeout while you relax in here, okay?”
“Sure,” you say with a smile, but as he starts to pull away, you grip his shirt, making him look back at you. “Will you stay with me tonight?” you ask with a pleading expression.
He smiles down at you and raises an eyebrow. “How about you stay with me?”
Thank you for reading part 5 of Vampire Miguel - gosh that was a big one! I hope you're enjoying it so far.
I would like to thank my brother for suggesting the reader gives Miguel some sun cream to enjoy a sun set. I thought that was very sweet and couldn't resist putting it in.
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You wake up in the shelter, but the plans you had made with Miguel the night before don't exactly go the way you expected...
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Minors DNI - Eventual smut and descriptions of violence
Word count - 11,974
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Contains - Descriptions of violence (involving guns and stabbing)
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Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3
Miguel had no idea what on earth convinced him to leave his safe and quiet home in the dense woods to brave the likes of Nueva York. He had access to wildlife at night to feed on in private, away from human prying eyes.
Perhaps it was after at least the first century of being a vampire, Miguel felt he had nothing to drive him. The persistent passage of time caught his now elderly daughter while he continued to live on. Her own children were strangers to him and he didn’t want to ruin their lives with them being associated with him.
He had finally reached a point that the risk of exposure just to do something in his life outweighed the need to be safe, away from the creatures he had mostly grown to despise: Humans…
There was also a… stirring, or inkling in the back of his mind. Whispers in the dark almost, telling him that he should be wary. Not of people, but of Morbius. For some while, he had a terrible feeling that perhaps the evil vampire did not perish in the river. He felt a lingering presence - a faint one, but he could still sense it. However, over time, it disappeared as if the being he could sense had wandered off - or died.
Times were changing, too. Technology and science had advanced quite considerably, and if he remained in hiding, he’d be forever lost in the 19th century. It was time to brave the new world; to learn, to adjust, and to fit in… somehow.
It was a struggle, but Miguel managed to survive the change after moving into the city. Over decades, he had acquired his own living space and found bar work - a job he could do at night. However, he often changed the bars he worked at after several years to avoid questions like "why do you look like you haven’t aged at all since you started working here?” People paid a lot of attention to his looks as many considered him to be extremely attractive, although his red eyes were slightly disconcerting. The invention of coloured contact lenses was a blessing for him indeed.
Present day, Miguel was a lot more carefree about his appearance. He was in an age that it was acceptable for one to stand out from the crowd and express oneself. His red spider tattoo added to the aesthetic that his similarly shaded eyes had set for him. Instead of weird looks, he received more expressions of admiration and appreciation.
Being a hit with the ladies while working at the bars felt alien to him. He hadn’t received any kind of attention or intimacy since before his wife passed away. Despite their very convincing advances, Miguel managed to wriggle himself out of their clutches and retreat home.
The whole time he was in Nueva York, no one had ever guessed he was different to everyone else. That was until he gained a new neighbour in the apartment building he lived in.
It was just by chance that Miguel was leaving his place when his new neighbour was returning home after work one evening. They hadn’t met before, but when she looked up to greet him, she double-took.
Miguel groaned internally, assuming the woman was going to be enamoured with him.
(illustration provided by @smileyrhi717)
“Oh my God, I’ve seen a picture of you!” the short, light-brown haired woman exclaimed.
Now it was Miguel’s turn to double-take. “What?” Out of all possible greetings he was expecting to receive, that wasn’t one of them.
“Yeah! Before I moved here, I was clearing out some old stuff in my loft and found some items belonging to my great, great, great, great, great grandmother,” she counted her fingers as she spoke. “I inherited a bunch of stuff from very sentimental family members. There’s a picture of a man looking exactly like you,” she paused as she moved closer while Miguel stepped back, pressing his back against his apartment door. “He even had that unusual shade of red eyes, like you.”
The man stood rigid, looking totally bewildered by this revelation. “That’s… That’s impossible…” he managed to splutter. Indeed it was impossible. Even if he did participate in having his photo taken at the same time this woman’s grandmother was alive, he wouldn’t have shown up in the image anyway.
“I know, right? Spooky. I found it in one of her old diaries. It’s a drawing she did when she was little, but she captured your likeness perfectly.”
Miguel blinked in a stunned silence, his eye twitching slightly as he stressed over how to navigate this conversation out of the danger zone.
The woman cleared her throat. “Anyway… unless you’re a vampire, you can’t be him, right?” she asked with a chuckle, waving a dismissive hand, blissfully unaware of the irony of her last sentence.
If Miguel’s heart was working, it’d be doing a thousand beats a minute. At this point, he started to wish she was enamoured with him - it would have been far easier to deal with.
His new neighbour extended her hand to introduce herself. “Lyla Renfield, nice to finally meet the guy next door.”
Red eyes flitted between her hand and her face before finally reaching out and taking it. “M-Miguel O’Hara-”
“You’re kidding!” Lyla exploded in surprise, her mouth agape and her eyes wide with utter shock. “That’s what that guy was called! My five-times great grandmother wrote about a Miguel O’Hara in her diary,” she continued as she let go of his hand.
The vampire’s bushy brown eyebrows furrowed in an astonished disbelief. “This has got to be some kind of joke, I-”
“No! I swear. She was friends with a girl called Gabriella O’Hara in Philadelphia who often spoke to my grandmother about her father. It was all written in her diary. Damn, I wish I hadn’t thrown it away now…”
At the mere mention of his beloved Gabriella, tears threatened to spill from his eyes. He thought there was no chance of someone other than himself speaking her name in this day and age. “Gabi…” he muttered softly, forgetting all about pretending that what Lyla was saying was impossible.
“My grandmother wrote in her diary that Gabriella’s father was shunned from her town for something that wasn’t his fault. No one gave him a chance to prove he wasn’t a threat, despite being so kind and pure of heart before his affliction. She was the only one who believed Gabriella…” Lyla’s voice trailed off as she watched Miguel’s expression dissolve from shock to melancholy.
He didn’t have to utter a single word, she knew there and then who and what he was.
“Oh God… you’re… you really are him, aren’t you?”
Miguel was speechless. Totally floored by Lyla’s revelation. And now, she knew the truth. The truth he had worked so hard to protect and keep hidden.
“You… you can’t tell anyone. I swear, I’m not a threat. I-”
Placating hands rose to stop the panicking man in his tracks. “Hey! Hey!” she began as Miguel stopped talking, his wide eyes had returned back to twitching again. “I love supernatural and paranormal stuff. If my five-times great grandmother believed you, I do too.”
The unsettled expression across Miguel’s face relaxed when Lyla surprisingly didn’t run for the hills screaming. Relief felt like a cold, wet blanket thrown over the fire of anxiety and Miguel let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Wow, an actual vampire… oh my God, do you have fangs?” she asked, her face full of wonder.
His body stiffened at her question. This was brand new territory for Miguel and he struggled to adjust to such a wild one-eighty from the reaction he was used to regarding his condition. He guessed that some people were more open to the idea of creatures of the night. Perhaps media like movies and books have helped shape people’s minds to be more accommodating, if such a truth was revealed to them, not like he intended on telling the entire city.
“I- um… Yes, I do have fangs, but they come out when I need them. And no, I’m not giving you a demonstration.”
“Aww…” Lyla sounded disappointed, but she seemed to come alive with excitement, her expressions becoming more animated. “Oh! Okay. What about if you’re chasing me and I threw rice at you. Do you have the compulsion to stop and count it?”
Miguel frowned mostly out of confusion at her question. “Compulsion to count? That has never been a thing. I’d simply step over the rice and catch you.”
Despite finding Lyla’s enthusiasm for vampires rather overwhelming, he did feel relieved that there was at least one person in the city who wasn’t afraid of who he really was. He could be transparent with her, if they developed a friendship. Perhaps not all humans are bad.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t stay long with Lyla that evening because he had to go to work. He bid his goodbyes and left the apartment block.
On his way to the bar he worked at, something in a small shop caught his eye. A simple stand for sunglasses of all different shapes and sizes stood before him. A cute pair of pink heart-shaped glasses just glistened perfectly in the light, as if they were calling out for him. They were quirky - a bit like the girl he had just met. Perhaps it could be a light-hearted ‘thank you for not freaking out about me’ gift.
“It’ll clash with your eyes…” a young, female cashier who was chewing some gum drawled as Miguel went to pay for the present. He thought she was rather rude, but shrugged it off. “Good job it’s not for me then,” he replied stiffly as he handed the correct change over.
The look on Lyla’s face was priceless when she opened her little gift bag, handed over by a slightly awkward Miguel the next evening.
“It’s nothing special, I just saw them and thought they’d be a funny novelty gift more than anything else…” but before Miguel had even finished his sentence, Lyla had already put the glasses on and gone to check her reflection in the mirror.
“I love them. Thank you,” she replied as she turned back to face her vampire friend.
The pink shades actually looked good on her - a little goofy, but she was able to wear them so well, he couldn’t resist breaking his usual stern expression to smile slightly.
“I could say, ‘fangs a lot’,” Lyla joked with a cheeky grin, causing the smile on Miguel’s face to drop. He groaned at the awful pun as he swore a part of him died and left his body.
The unlikely duo hung out together more and more. The vampire enthusiast spent time learning everything she could about her new friend, while the vampire could spend time being himself and not have to watch his words.
He found it refreshing to chat with a woman who wasn’t constantly trying to flirt with him. Their relationship was entirely platonic and felt completely natural.
On a rare night off, Miguel and Lyla enjoyed an evening out in Nueva York, watching the city in a new perspective on the rooftops. White and red lights snake through the busy roads, the usual din of honking horns and car engines rumbling away now a distant noise while the evening breeze caressed them both.
Above the traffic, above the bustling streets was serenity. That was until Miguel picked up on an old, familiar sense. A sense he had long forgotten.
Sitting on the edge of a rooftop, Lyla noticed Miguel’s attention shifting from enjoying the scenery to looking like he was listening to something intently, while his brows furrowed with concern. “What’s the matter, Miguel?” Lyla asked as her feet swung back and forth.
The vampire leans further forward, looking down to the streets far below, almost like he was defying the laws of gravity. “I sense something…” he answers simply as the wind disturbs his short, dark-brown hair.
She may not have known Miguel for long, but this behaviour was odd. Lyla could tell he was a pensive and brooding kind of character, but in that instance, he acted as though he was an eagle, spying on his prey. “What do you sense?” Lyla asked with growing interest.
An apprehensive sigh left his parted lips as he started to stand. “Someone I thought had died a long time ago,” he looked down at his friend. “This isn’t good,” he continued as he held out his hand towards Lyla - a gesture for her to come with him. “Hold onto me and I’ll fly us back down. I can’t ignore this.”
The duo landed in an alley so as to not gain unwanted attention before Miguel stormed ahead, his long strides eating the distance as though he was a man on a mission. Lyla, who was considerably shorter than him, had to jog to keep up.
Leaving the narrow passage, the vampire turned to the right sharply and continued down the road, his senses leading the way like a dog sniffing out a scent.
Miguel led Lyla to a park. Lamp posts flanked the path snaking through the large verdant patch of land nestled amongst highrise buildings. He paused as he listened intently, his hand held out behind him, telling his friend to stay back. “Keep your eyes peeled,” he uttered in a hushed tone.
“What am I looking for exactly?” Lyla asked as she looked left and right, eyes adjusting to the darkness away from the brightly illuminated pathway.
“Uhh… not sure…” Miguel murmured distractedly as a twig snapping in the distance caught his attention. There was a sudden spike in his senses, which raised an alarm in his head. “This way…”
Grass rustled under his footsteps as he strode off the path and followed the noise.
Deeper and deeper into the treeline of the park the duo stalked. Lyla stooped low to pick up a snapped-off branch from the ground which looked particularly jagged at one end.
“What are you doing?” Miguel whispered as he glanced back at his friend.
“Arming myself. Don’t worry about me; eyes in front, nosey.”
With a roll of his eyes, he looked back in front of him. Up ahead, there was a dark, writhing mound, the subtle movements caused him to stop dead in his tracks and gestured for Lyla to do the same.
Eventually, the mass before him moved. Red eyes gleamed in the dark ominously, locking directly onto the pair. The creature that stood before Miguel did not look at all like his memory of Morbius, but he knew it was him through sense alone. He raised the back of his hand to his mouth, wiping something away, which increased his air of suspiciousness.
“Oh my God, who’s that with him?” Lyla muttered quietly as she drew level with her friend.
Miguel’s eyes glanced down briefly to see a body laying deathly still at Morbius’ feet. The feeling of a heavy stone dropped to the pit of his stomach. Morbius wasn’t dead, and he is definitely back to his old tricks. What was worse, he had an entire city practically acting like an all-you-can-eat buffet.
“I suppose I look a little different to how you remember me, don’t I?” his old foe finally spoke out as he ambled closer. “No thanks to you,” there was a hint of venom in his words.
Gone was his beautiful, sleek black hair. His youthful complexion was now blotchy and ruined.
“I presume you’re disappointed to learn that your dirty trick which sent me splashing into the river didn’t quite finish the job... although it was damn close,” Morbius spat as he stepped closer, his eyes eventually landing on Lyla. “Who’s this?”
A protective arm spread across her chest, before she was pulled back behind her vampire friend. “No one who concerns you, Morbius,” Miguel answered stiffly before casting his eyes back over his victim. “Who was that?” he gestured with a slight nod of his head.
Morbius chuckled darkly as he looked back to the limp body lying on the grass before giving a nonchalant shrug. “No idea. I’m not picky these days. I just need something to rejuvenate my frail body. Another thing to thank you for…” there was a disdainful sneer growing across his face as he spoke, almost as if he rued having anything to do with Miguel in the first place. He certainly became a lot more trouble than he was worth. His blood didn’t benefit Morbius any more than any other person he fed upon, and now, the price was to have an irritating vampire who fancied himself the hero interfering in his business.
“The whole city will be full of vampires if you continue draining people completely!”
A clawed hand swiftly gripped Miguel’s throat, instantly silencing him. “You know, you’re starting to bore me with the same tune you keep singing,” Morbius growled with contempt, but his grip on his foe didn’t last long. His head jerked backward suddenly as Miguel threw a devastating punch to the face, freeing him the moment his knuckles collided with Morbius’ nose. Lyla nearly gagged at the unpleasant crunching sound that came with it.
The old vampire wasn’t lying when he said the river nearly killed him. The rushing water burned every part of him; to the point that his body was irreparably damaged. This however didn’t stop his regeneration abilities to keep trying, sapping him of his strength and power.
Striking while the iron was hot, Miguel dealt another crushing blow by grabbing the side of Morbius’ head and slamming it against a tree.
“Oh, shit!” Lyla exclaimed, surprised by two things: that vampires were incredibly strong and robust, and just how violent her very quiet vampire friend could get once angry. Before she even knew it, she had stepped back a few paces to make sure she was well out of the way.
“I should have made damn sure you were dead all those years ago!” Miguel roared as his eyes glowed intensely. Morbius’ head lolled as the collision made him see stars momentarily while Miguel grappled his clothing.
Lyla simply watched aghast as her friend pummelled and smashed Morbius in a fit of rage. Her friend had almost become a totally different person, although she considered his actions justified. Then, a perfect window of opportunity opened up for her.
Miguel had floored his vampiric foe before looking back at his friend, gesturing for her to come over quickly. “Give me the branch!” he shouted as he held Morbius flat on his back.
Lyla sprang forward, pushing off of a tree that she had been holding on to. Her booted feet thudded heavily with every purposeful stride, running to her friend, her hand carrying the short branch outstretched.
Just as the improvised wooden stake exchanged hands, Morbius’ wings unfurled and swept the pair away from him, knocking the branch out of Miguel’s hand. The duo tumbled over one another from the force of the bat-like appendage until Miguel landed on top, his gaze fixed on the snapped branch between them and Morbius.
It was as if time slowed in that moment. His powerful limbs burst with energy, to rush forward with vampiric speed. And yet, under sheer panic, he felt he was going at a snail’s pace. Protruding claws from his fingertips dug into the ground for extra traction.
Morbius lunged for the jagged branch too, joining the race for the only thing that could kill either of them. The scurrying vampires clashed together, neither of them able to grab the weapon. Fangs bared, claws slashed as the two beast-like creatures fought ferociously, while a dazed Lyla watched in shock.
To Miguel’s horror, he was knocked onto his back, exposed as Morbius wrapped his gnarled fingers around the makeshift weapon. His eyes widened as the rigid limb of wood was plunged downwards. He was in trouble, his broad chest a nice wide target. In the small window of time he had, he flinched to the right slightly before yelling in pain. The branch had plunged into his chest, narrowly missing his heart.
Morbius wrenched the wood back, raising his arms up high again. An ominous, hate-fuelled growl left his snarling mouth as he tried once more.
Panting heavily, Miguel lurched the other way so his foe would miss his target. Again, the woods filled with more agonising yells as he was stabbed a second time.
Miguel had gone through two hundred years since his last fight with Morbius, and even then he hadn’t been hurt like this. He gazed up at his enemy who was poised to plunge the wood into him again, thinking this would be his final moment.
This pitiful bit of wood clutched in Morbius’ hands may as well have been the Sword of Damocles. His body frozen in fear as he watched it begin to fall, about to seal his doom.
Suddenly, a feminine grunt filled the air as Lyla charged in and kicked Morbius off, sending the jagged branch way off course, narrowly missing Miguel’s head.
The evil vampire tumbled and rolled, but the moment he stopped, the human was already on top of him, her fingers wrapped around a different snapped branch, looking even sharper than the other, before plummeting it towards Morbius’ heart.
Black mist swirled around her as she suddenly noticed the lack of a body beneath her and her improvised weapon plunged into nothing but the cold ground.
Lyla’s heart pounded and adrenaline coursed through her veins while her frustration soared. She nearly had him. Then, her wide eyes landed on her friend, lying motionless on the ground. “Shit…” she muttered as she scrambled over to him.
Two holes about eight inches apart were visible on his shirt where the snapped branch struck his chest.
“Miguel!?” Lyla called as her hands rested on his shoulders and shook him. To her relief, a deep groan rose from his parted lips and he gradually opened his eyes, revealing his glowing red irises.
“Did you get him?” he grunted in pain as he tried to prop himself up on his elbows.
Lyla’s expression fell. “Nearly… the coward vanished just before I stabbed him,” she answered as she pulled away from him to give him room.
“Ay coño…” he groaned as he raised a large hand to his face and massaged the bridge of his nose.
“I’m sorry…” she said with disappointment as her shoulders slumped.
Weary eyes locked onto hers. “Hey. No. That wasn’t on you,” Miguel grunted. “Even if you didn’t kill him, you saved me. So, I thank you, Lyla. Don’t go beating yourself up over Morbius…” he had now properly sat upright and pulled at his shirt to look at the damage. “Damn it. I liked that shirt too…”
As Lyla watched, she noticed there weren’t any wounds underneath the material of his top. “How did you…” she asked, her voice full of wonder as she pointed a finger at his chest.
Long fingers splayed over his shirt, smoothing it over. “Vampires have fast regeneration or healing abilities,” he paused as hesitation and exhaustion etched across his face, “but in doing so, it consumes a lot of my energy.”
The pair looked at each other momentarily as silence poured over them, before Miguel eventually opened his mouth to speak.
“I regret having to ask you to go above and beyond… you’d be the first… but… if he comes back again, I need to be ready-“
Lyla could tell Miguel was worried about what he was about to ask. To help calm him, she rested her hand on his shoulder. “Miguel; just say it.”
He let out a shaky sigh before plucking the courage to ask. “I’m weak after the fight, Lyla. I need to regain some strength, and in order to do that, I must feed.”
Lyla’s hand slipped from his shoulder. She guessed that was what he was going to ask, but the confirmation still made her blood run cold. “Is it going to hurt?” she asked cautiously.
Her friend gave a shrug. “I… I don’t know. I’ve never drunk from a human before. But I’ll be as gentle as possible - if you let me.”
She knew Miguel would have taken an alternative option if there was one, but they were alone, amongst the trees in the park. The threat of Morbius returning meant Lyla had to choose quickly. Looking at her friend, who currently looked wiped out with fatigue, he was the most trustworthy person she had ever met. “Okay, but you owe me, big time,” she answered, failing to stop a smirk from tugging up the corners of her lips.
A look of relief flooded across Miguel’s face. “Thank you. You are a saint.”
The pair stood up and brushed themselves off, ridding their clothes of dirt and loose blades of grass.
“So, um… how does it work then?” the woman asked, struggling to mask her nervousness a little.
Miguel weakly shuffled closer to his friend as his eyes began to glow again. A trait that Lyla had noticed happened when Miguel used his vampiric abilities.
“Typically, blood is drunk from the human's neck. You need to tilt your head for me,” it didn’t feel right to touch her or manipulate her into position, he even hated the fact he’d have to nuzzle his face into an intimate place on his friend’s body in order to drink. But, it was necessary.
Lyla followed his instruction and moved her hair away from her face and neck, giving him full access.
“I’m sorry…” Miguel whispered after he leaned over her as his lips searched for the warmest point.
“Mhm…” his friend gave a little squeak at the sensation of his mouth on her skin. She felt his arms hold her close, one hand pressing against between her shoulder blades while the other cupped the back of her head.
The whole experience felt awkward and wrong, but he had to do this in order to be strong enough to keep them both safe if Morbius attacked again.
Sharp teeth sank into the best spot Miguel could find, making Lyla’s body stiffen momentarily, until she felt a numbness spreading through her. Then, there was warmth that followed, making her relax into his hold.
Their close proximity meant she could feel Miguel’s Adams apple bobbing as he gulped mouthfuls of her blood. She could tell he was being as careful and gentle as possible. His eagerness to prove his trustworthiness was overwhelmingly evident.
Every gulp provided him with a small burst of energy, rejuvenating his body with every passing second. He was restrained, and made sure not to bite too hard. Every mouthful was measured, keeping her health at the front of his mind at all times.
The moment he knew he had enough, he released her neck but kept Lyla in his arms in case she felt dizzy or faint. Red glowing eyes searched his friend’s face to check on her wellbeing. “Are you alright?” he asked as his tongue slipped over his lips, making sure they were clean.
Apart from looking a little subdued in comparison to her normal behaviour, she didn’t look unwell or uncomfortable. To answer his question she nodded with a smile when she could see that her vampire friend also looked better.
“Thank you, Lyla. I’ll never forget this,” he muttered to her as his arms around her body loosened. “I’m sorry it was so awkward,” he continued as rested his hands on her shoulders, giving her one final check that she wouldn’t collapse before letting go.
A faint, weak groan came from the man the pair discovered Morbius standing next to, making Miguel and Lyla turn to face him. The man’s hand rose to his head and rubbed it before trying to sit up.
“Shit, I forgot he was here…” Lyla mumbled before Miguel strode over to the stranger.
The newly turned vampire sat up, blinking several times as he tried to remember what had happened. He watched silently as Miguel approached and crouched down next to him.
“Take it easy. What’s your name?” At first glance, he had short brown tufty hair, his nose was slightly crooked and now incredibly pale.
“P-Peter Parker…” the dazed man answered as his hand slipped from his face into his hair. “What happened to me?” he asked as Lyla, too, joined Miguel and crouched down, a sympathetic expression etched across her face.
The vampire simply gazed down at Peter, his eyebrows knitted together, reliving his past as he watched someone else begin their cursed life just like he did all those years ago.
A firm hand rested on Peter’s shoulder to offer up some comfort and an attempt to soften the blow of her next words. “There’s no easy way to say this, Peter. You’ve been attacked by a vampire, and as a result, you’re…” her words trailed off as she struggled to summon the right ones to say.
Peter looked between the two strangers, both of their despondent faces explained the rest to him without another word being spoken. “I… see…” he began as his gaze lowered to his lap to think for a second before looking back up at Miguel. “What does that mean for me, exactly?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.
Lyla’s hand squeezed his shoulder again slightly as her friend was still at a loss for words. “Don’t worry; we’ll help you through this.”
Little did Lyla know, her words started cogs turning in Miguel’s mind. Morbius was back. And he wasn’t going to stop draining people of their blood in his bid to rejuvenate and try to cure himself. Soon, others will follow Peter. Ultimately, Morbius needed to be stopped, but until then, Miguel would have to help as many newly turned vampires as possible.
The concept of Las Sombras was born. The finances gained from the nightclub would go towards the upkeep of the shelter.
Many months passed and the plan came to fruition. The refuge was ready for as many victims Miguel could locate, but he was certain he hadn’t found all of them.
When he noticed the victims were getting younger, his mood plummeted. He blamed himself. He was the reason why Morbius was still stalking the streets at night. He was the reason why teenagers and young adults’ lives were being ruined. He needed to put an end to Morbius once and for all.
You wake from your deep slumber. Blinking your sleep away, you think about the most vivid dream you have just had. Was it a dream? You’re not entirely certain… It seemed too real and flowed far better than any usual dream you have experienced.
Looking at your phone screen, you see that it’s nearly eight AM. It’s time you should message your boss to say that you are ‘sick’. You can already imagine his reply, which you’ll read in his irritated and unnecessarily aggressive voice.
The shelter is now deathly silent, no murmurings in the social area heard as you amble out of your makeshift bedroom. You’re reminded that you’re most likely to be the only person awake.
Typically, subway stations are large and convoluted. Many twists and turns dividing off to different platforms. You begin to wonder just how much of this subway Miguel and Lyla have actually claimed and put into use. But first, you wonder if Lyla is about yet. She doesn’t seem to be down here with you. Maybe she’s up in the nightclub cleaning?
Las Sombras was just as silent and deserted. There was no sign of Lyla. You presume she’s just on her way.
Nine AM ticks by and still nothing. You remember the morning before; Lyla was already in and working by that time, and you frown as you wonder where she could be.
Minutes turn into hours as you wait. You begin to wish that you had taken her number so you could text her. Concern grows exponentially as you watch the morning turn into afternoon.
With a rumbling stomach, you rummage through the cupboards in the kitchen back in the shelter. There has to be something for you to eat. A look of relief spreads across your face when you discover a bag of unopened potato chips.
As you crunch away, you argue with yourself over whether you should try to wake Miguel and tell him that Lyla hasn’t arrived, but you wonder just what he could do about it while the sun is still up. The moment you see him, you decide you will tell him.
The subway station is indeed vast, but you notice all the available bedrooms are taken. Hopefully there won’t be any other new vampires joining the ranks soon, but you wouldn’t put money on it.
Escalators stand silent and motionless as you explore the depths of the subway station. Each step makes a clunking sound against the ridged metal as you descend. At the bottom, a long platform and a line of rails stretches before you, stopping abruptly at a sealed tunnel. A stack of mattresses towered over you as you strolled further onto the platform to investigate. And down around your feet were countless bags full of blankets and cushions. It is clear that the vampire and human duo have been preparing for a while for the worst.
Sprawled out over one of the many couches, you scroll through social media on your phone when you finally hear movement, causing you to lock your screen and sit up to see who it is. You find yourself surprised to see more than just one person peering down at you. The six missing people quietly join you.
Before now, you didn’t have much chance to pay attention to what they really looked like, but now they’re up close, you take note of who they are. Of course, there’s Miles - you knew about him - but next to him is a tall, young girl of similar age. She has short blonde hair with a pink streak. Her face is rather cute and she has an adorable gap between her two front top teeth, visible when she gives you a warm smile.
“I’m Gwen; Miles told us last night what Morbius nearly did to you,” her eyes flit down to your neck which is still patched up, thanks to Lyla…
Brushing your concerns regarding Lyla aside, you give a weak smile at Gwen and nod. “Nice to meet you, Gwen. Yes, he fooled me well… I’m sorry that you and your friends weren’t so lucky…”
To Gwen’s left sits an older looking young adult. Dark skin, a handsome face adorned with several piercings: over his brow, on his nose and lip, his thick dreadlocked hair as wild as his personality, you wager. A black studded collar encircles his neck, matching with the rest of his punky attire.
“Man’s a scheming bastard. He got us all one way or another,” the punk’s voice is deep and speaks with a British accent. “Name’s Hobie; by the way.”
As the conversation continues, you go on to speak to Margo, Pavitr and Penni - Penni being the youngest. They all seem bright, promising individuals and you hope they can still manage to achieve greatness even after having such a life-changing challenge thrown at them.
During the whole conversation, the thought of Lyla persists. Something is not right at all. The fact that the youngsters are up means that it is getting dark. “Where does Miguel sleep? I need to talk to him. It’s kind of important.”
Gwen stands up from her spot on the couch and points towards a room mostly hidden away by crates - you suspect that was done on purpose.
“Thank you. Speak to you guys later,” you rise from your seat and amble over to Miguel’s room, weaving around stacks of boxes which you guess are filled with supplies for the shelter.
The door to his room is shut, prompting you to give it a gentle knock, but there is no response. Perhaps he is a heavy sleeper? You turn the door handle and quietly enter the room.
Taking a quick look around, you see his room is the most decorated in the entire subway station. You guess he’s probably a permanent resident - why shouldn’t he make his mark on his living quarters? Then, your eyes land on a large bed, presumably the other available mattresses were far too small for his gigantic frame. As your eyes wander up the bed, they rake over the rucked up sheets around his long legs and narrow hips, however his top half is totally bare. The slumbering vampire lays on his side, one arm tucked under his pillow while his other hand rests in front of him on the mattress.
Considering how neat he looks when he’s awake, you can’t help but chuckle quietly at how messy his hair looks while he’s asleep. His little flicks and curls stick to his face and splay out over his pillow. You watch momentarily as he sleeps on, blissfully unaware that you’re there, but Lyla must come first. Tentatively, your hand hovers over him, unsure exactly where to place it to try to wake him up gently. Everything is just hard muscle! You also fight against your urge to let your eyes wander to his exposed abs.
Swallowing hard, you step closer and gently rest your hand on his arm. He looks so peaceful and far less moody, it is almost a shame to wake him. Giving him a gentle squeeze and a little shake, you begin to whisper. “Miguel…” His body rocks slightly as you move your hand against his bicep more. “Mig-”
His eyes snap wide open as he moves instantly, grabbing your arm and wrenching you over him and onto the mattress. It happens so fast you can barely register what’s going on. He rolls over you and pins you down, hand raised with claws extended.
“H-holy shit, Miguel!” you exclaim in a breathy voice, stunned at the sheer speed in which he moved.
His fierce eyes squint at you until he realises he’s not under any threat. Claws sheath once more as he lowers his arm and gathers the loose sheet around his hips. His hand grips it tightly around him before sitting back against his feet. That is when you realise he is totally bare under the thin layer of fabric.
“What on earth are you doing in here, waking me up like that? You scared the hell out of me.” he growls, his mane of dark brown hair comically stuck out at different angles, although you don’t quite see the funny side just yet.
You sit up on his bed, pulling your feet out from under his straddling legs while your eyes remain locked on his. You strive not to let them travel any further south. “Lyla’s not shown up at all today. I figured you’d want to know… I still need to get my laptop, and it’s nearly nightfall.”
Concern grows across his face as his gaze moves from you to his phone beside his bed. While holding onto his bedsheet, he crawls across the mattress, his large thigh emerges between the drapes of the material as he moves. Fuck! Your eyes dart upwards, as you foolishly think they are safer further north on his body. Wrong… His prominent V-line is where they land next, making you feel the pink in your face rise higher and higher.
Miguel grabs his phone and checks his notifications, but there doesn’t appear to be anything from Lyla. The cellular device thuds back down on his bedside table. “We’re going to have to go to her apartment before we go to yours…” he says as he climbs off his bed, pulling his sheet with him. “Shit! This could be bad!” he exclaims as he paces the room, his free hand rising to the bridge of his nose. After a short while of panicking and attempting to gather peace and calm again, he looks back up to you. “Are you ready to go?” Miguel asks as he walks over to his wardrobe.
“Y-yes,” you stutter, trying to keep your eyes off him.
“Good, leave the room and I’ll be out in a minute,” he replies as he opens a drawer, and bends down to search inside it. Yep, definitely time to leave after you spy the bedsheet showing off quite possibly the peachiest ass you have ever laid eyes on. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…
You’re absolutely certain your face is now red and glowing due to the sight before you. Silently, you hop off his bed and leave quickly without giving a backwards glance and try to mentally flush the distracting images from your racing mind.
Hair whips around your face, pushed and pulled by the wild autumnal winds as you step out from Las Sombras. The lights inside are switched off and a handwritten sign is stuck against the glass saying that the nightclub will be closed this evening.
Miguel follows you out of the double-glass doors and locks them before directing you to the alley beside the establishment. “Have you ridden a motorbike before?” he asks as he effortlessly mounts it, his muscular thighs straddling the vehicle. You close your eyes momentarily, pushing that image from his bedroom out of your mind.
“No, I haven’t,” you answer as you walk up beside the bike and gawp at how high the seat is.
Miguel offers you his arm. “Jump on,” he instructs you - your five-foot-something ass is going to struggle getting up otherwise.
The leather of his jacket feels cold against your palm as you take hold of him and hoist yourself up, his arm giving you that extra boost you needed to get your leg over the other side and seated nicely right behind him. Oh dear God… you think to yourself as you now have to deal with the reality of him between your legs on the motorcycle saddle - you’re just thankful he has his back to you.
“Put your arms around me if you need to.” Now you’re really glad he can’t see you, your face is almost as red as a lobster due to your heavy blushing.
Tentatively, your arms encircle his narrow waist as your hands instinctively clutch onto the leather of his jacket.
After what Morbius did to you, you can’t help but feel a little annoyed at yourself for feeling this way. It was easier in that brief moment when you thought Miguel was doing the same thing as his enemy, suspecting he was just as beastly underneath his cunning perception charm.
The Harley’s engine suddenly roars into life, making you flinch at the intimidating sound. Your shock reflected in your grip tightening around him. You’re pretty sure you can feel him chuckling quietly at your reaction.
After shifting the bike into first gear, Miguel twists the right handle forward and the vehicle begins to move. The deep purr of the idle engine changes to a growl that grows louder the faster it rolls down the road.
Silence descends upon the street outside Lyla’s apartment building the moment Miguel switches the engine off. He lets you slip off the bike first before dismounting it himself.
“We need to make a pit-stop first before going to Lyla’s,” he begins as he stuffs the keys to his bike in his tight jeans pocket. “I don’t like the fact I’ve not heard from her to say she isn’t able to come to the nightclub. There could be trouble waiting for us in her apartment.”
You nod and swallow hard as you walk beside him before reaching the entrance to the building. He pushes the door open, but doesn’t let you in first. “Stay behind me,” he mutters to you in a low tone.
You do as he says and slot in behind him until you reach a lift. Miguel jabs the call button to summon it, and you both wait in silence. Disturbing thoughts rush through your mind, making you worry about what you might find when you enter Lyla’s home.
A bell rings to signify the lift has arrived, snapping you out of your downward spiral of horrific images. The metal doors slide open and the both of you step in.
After he presses the number of Lyla’s floor and the doors slide shut again, he opens his mouth to speak. “Do you know how to handle a gun?”
You go bug-eyed for a second at his question as the lift begins to ascend. Perhaps your disturbing thoughts might be more of a reality than you realised. “What? No - w-why?” you ask, but you’re now afraid to hear his answer.
Miguel frowns slightly. “I might have to give you a crash course,” he replies as the lift slows to a stop. The doors slide open revealing a corridor you swear you’ve seen before.
You’re led out of the lift to a door that looks strangely familiar. “How do I remember this place? I know I’ve never been in this building before,” you ask quietly as Miguel slips a key into the door and turns it as stealthily as possible.
“You saw this place in the dream you had last night,” he answers casually in a low tone as he opens the door wide before stepping in. His words make you pause and blink in surprise.
“What? How did you know about my dream?” you ask as you follow him into the apartment.
Miguel looks back at you as he turns the light on. “Because I injected the dream into your mind when I hypnotised you. It was a collection of memories of how I met Lyla, and how Las Sombras came to be.”
“Hmm…” you hum with intrigue. “Sounds oddly efficient…” your words trail off as you notice the state of the apartment. The living space is equipped with basic furniture along with an alarming collection of weapons and ammunition. “What the hell?” you gasp in surprise as you stare at the numerous cases full of handguns, pistols, shotguns and crossbows.
“This is my old apartment,” he begins as he strides over to a glass case and opens it. “I still own it and sometimes crash here if I need to, but it’s ultimately a storage for Lyla to use, should she need it.” Miguel plucks a pistol from a shelf before opening a drawer and taking out a long tube-like object. It seems he wasn’t kidding about you using a gun - you just hope it isn’t necessary.
The vampire also takes out several magazine clips for the weapon before he turns back to face you again. His expression is serious as he approaches you, gun held out in his hand, ready to pass it to you.
“Is it loaded?” you ask, almost stepping back nervously, your heart starting to pound as reality sets in.
“No, it’s not. I’m going to show you how to load it, prime it and reload. Listen carefully,” he takes your hand and places the weapon on your open palm. “Hold it properly,” Miguel instructs you in a demanding, no-nonsense tone.
Three of your fingers wrap around the magazine well, while your index finger hovers by the trigger. You look up at Miguel. “Do you seriously think we’ll end up needing this?”
Red eyes move from the gun, to your gaze. “Why else would Lyla not contact me? Something’s happened. I just hope we’re not too late,” he answers before taking your free hand and placing a magazine clip in it. “Now,” he begins as he points to the underside of the gun, into the hollow area your fingers wrap around. “You slide the clip into this bit here,” he watches you tentatively slip it in and you hear a click, signifying that it is locked into place. “Good. To prime it, - but don’t do it yet, - you pull the slide at the top of the gun back which will load the first bullet into the chamber. You’ll prime it before we step into Lyla’s apartment - I don’t want any misfirings beforehand, alright?”
You give a nod to show you understand.
“This button here,” he continues as he points to a button between the magazine well and the trigger. “Pressing this will release the magazine once all the bullets are spent. Ready for you to put in a new one.”
There is a gentle tug at your jeans pocket as he pulls it open and slides the other magazines into it.
Your hands begin to shake; you’ve never hurt anything intentionally in your life, and now you’re holding a gun, being taught how to use it.
Noticing you shaking, Miguel wraps both his large hands around yours to still them. “I’m sure you know what the tigger does. The rest is easy; point and shoot,” he leans in a little closer, making sure you look directly at him. “Bullets are made of silver so remember the next instruction: don’t hit me, alright?”
Producing a narrow tube from his pocket, he fixes it to the muzzle of your pistol, elongating the barrel. “This is a silencer, to help dampen the sound of your shots. I don’t want to attract any unwanted attention, if we can help it.”
Swallowing hard, you nod as you recap everything he has told you in your mind. Slide the thingy, pull the trigger, don’t hit Miguel, press the button and slide in another magazine… Doesn’t sound too difficult… No pressure…
“Come on…” he mutters to you, pressing a hand against your back to lead you to the door.
Having a gun in your hand feels like the most unnatural thing to you. How do people in movies carry them so casually? You feel as though you’re carrying a ticking time-bomb that could go off any minute.
Miguel leads you to Lyla’s apartment further along the corridor and gives you the nod to prime the gun. Grabbing the cold metal at the top, you pull it backwards ‘til you hear it click before releasing it back into its normal position.
After exchanging a nod between the both of you, the lock mechanism clicks as Miguel unlocks the door and opens it. Once again, the vampire enters first acting as your shield, despite you being the one holding the gun.
The apartment is eerily quiet and dark, no initial signs of life. You see Miguel raise his arm to turn on the light switch, but before he can flip it, the both of you are unexpectedly engulfed in an almost blinding purple light. People have been expecting you.
As you shield your eyes, you feel Miguel recoil violently, almost backing into you.
“Fuck! It’s UV light!” he yells out an anguished cry. “Shoot the lights out!” he continues, turning into you, shielding himself from the harmful UV rays.
Every part of your body buzzes with adrenaline. You have to be quick to protect the vampire now writhing in pain. The vampire, you notice, hasn’t left the room and remains by your side, despite being drenched in light that hurts him.
All you can see is a sharp purple, feeling like it’s piercing your retinas. You squint, desperately trying to see past the glare in front of you. Raising your arm, your finger wraps around the trigger, feeling thankful it’s just a light you’re trying to aim at, and not a person - although you suspect that will be a possibility before too long - given what you’re facing already. Your eyes burn as the offensive light overwhelms your vision, but you try to focus on where it is the most concentrated. A simple squeeze with your finger is all that it takes. The gun jolts in your hand, making you flinch and the bright light dies down, giving your eyes a much needed respite. It seems two more lights are left - you’ll freak out about your precision shot later.
Turning to your left, you aim and shoot again. Now one light is gone, seeing is a little easier, and Miguel doesn’t sound in quite so much pain. Darkness starts to overwhelm the harsh UV rays of the remaining light on your right.
Miguel reaches for the lightswitch again as you take out the last bulb. Your moment of pride doesn’t last long however.
Suddenly, you can see again, and you discover the lights had been operated by vampires who made sure to stand behind them while they were on. Each bulb had been surrounded by small mirrors to concentrate the UV rays, making sure it delivered an extra sting to your vampire partner.
A mad rush ensues as the enemy springs forward with supernatural speed. Before you even think about raising your gun, you find yourself wrapped in Miguel’s arms and wings as he spins you around, using his body as your shield. His hold on you is tight and reassuring while he grunts as the vampires slash and rip at him. Air swirls around your face as he unravels his wings, letting them spread wide, shunting the people there to hurt you both backwards, along with Lyla’s lamp and coat stand. You hear several crashes behind, telling you Miguel had managed to knock them over.
A hot breath caresses the side of your face as he leans down to whisper to you. “Are you ready?” to which you reply with a determined nod. He turns you back, your gun raised as you both spot the first vampire prone on the floor. Knowing that they’ll hurt you if you don’t hurt them first seems to make pulling the trigger easier.
“Aim for the chest,” Miguel growls in your ear to encourage you before another sudden rush catches his attention.
You fire a round at the vampire on the floor as he attempts to get up, hitting him squarely in the chest. The silver bullet ignites his insides and he burns from within until there is nothing left but a pile of ash.
As you watch with your mouth agape at the horror before you, Miguel’s wing sweeps another inbound vampire off his feet. He turns you to face the creature now in a heap on Lyla’s couch. Without any further prompting, you know exactly what to do. With a keen eye, you pull the trigger once more, dispatching them swiftly.
The following moments feel very much like a disturbing dance of death between you and Miguel. A well-oiled machine, alternating between knocking charging vampires over, shooting them and shielding you while you reload.
During this time, you can’t see any sign of Lyla.
One by one, each vampire is taken down and reduced to a pile of ash until the room falls silent. No more rushing feet or vicious vampiric hisses.
A familiar chill runs through your body as it stops producing adrenaline and the shaking begins. Did you just do all that? Not only did you just shoot a gun, you brought an end to several vampires. Speaking of which, the one remaining vampire in the room has his arms around you. He protected you and guided you through the terrifying moment.
“Are you alright?” he asks you as he remains holding you, making sure you can still stand. He can feel your body shake in his grip, giving him cause for concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answer as you finally lower your gun. Your thumb presses against the button on the gun, letting the magazine slide out and clatter on the floor. Then, you pluck the last clip out of your pocket, stash it into the weapon and prime it once more. “That’s my last magazine,” you warn him as his grip around you loosens, the comfort of having his arms around your body leaving you.
Miguel observes Lyla’s living area, head turning from left to right, scanning for anything that might offer any clues as to what happened here. Thanks to his wings, he knocked over her light and coat stand while defending the both of you. Apart from those and the vast piles of ash around the room, everything else seemed fairly tidy and normal. A frown spreads across his face as he considers stepping into Lyla’s bedroom. “Come with me…” he murmurs as he makes his way across the room.
The door to Lyla’s room is ajar, with nothing but a darkness beyond it. Faint groans of discomfort reach your ears the closer you both get to her bedroom, spurring Miguel to dash inside and turn the light on.
“Lyla!” he cries out in shock as you follow closely behind. His business partner is bound and gagged, arms tied behind her back as she lay on her bed. Her eyes wide, her head shaking frantically as her noises grow louder, almost as if she doesn’t want you and him to be there. You hear muffled noises sounding like she’s shouting “no!” through the material stuffed in her mouth. Dashing to the side of her bed, you place the gun on the pillow and pull the gag from her lips.
“B-Behind you!” she chokes out, the words almost coming out in one go.
Like a scene from a horror film, you watch Morbius rush forward into the room before Miguel has a chance to turn around fully. Miguel’s body lurches suddenly as you hear something like a blade slice into his side, followed by an agonised cry, his red eyes widening upon impact. Your jaw drops as Lyla writhes uncontrollably, screaming out for her friend.
Your mind takes over and you reach out to Lyla, undoing the ties around her wrists.
Morbius grins menacingly as he wrenches the knife out and shoves his foe down onto the bed, Lyla only just fortunate enough to roll out of the way in time.
An expression born from sheer agony is plastered all over Miguel’s face as he hits the mattress. He pants heavily as the afflicted area in his side burns and stings, his hand clutching the wound.
Adrenaline coursing through your body once again appears to slow time down. You reach for the gun and raise it directly at the evil beast, his arms already plunging the knife down towards Miguel. It’s now or never.
Your finger squeezes the trigger, firing a round into Morbius’ arm, his body flinching backwards as the searing pain of a silver bullet breaks through the fabric of his clothing and flesh.
Despite being in dire pain, Miguel lifts his right leg and boots his enemy in the chest, shunting him further back, striking the wall and collapsing on the floor. You take another shot, but frustratingly it lodges into his left shoulder. Your hands shake as you panic. With a well placed shot, you could end this; pressure now mounting on you by a tenfold.
In the corner of your eye, you see Miguel try (and fail) to sit up, while Lyla pulls her own gun from her bedside table and takes aim - you suspect that it’s also loaded with silver bullets.
You press forward, walking around the foot of the bed, flanking Miguel as Lyla does the same.
Annoyingly, Morbius keeps his chest well protected, making sure it’s not in direct line of fire. Regardless, you pull the trigger again, gritting your teeth, willing for the silver bullet to burn even more than the last.
As you hear a pain fuelled yell from Morbius, movement from Miguel gives you pause. Still clutching his side, he finally manages to rise from the bed and lunges for his foe, beginning the battle for the blade.
Using Miguel’s momentum, Morbius flips him backwards out of Lyla’s room, sending him crashing awkwardly and painfully onto his back.
Amidst the chaos unfolding in front of you, you hear bangs from the floor below. It makes you wince thinking just how much noise you’re all making. This needs to end quickly before you attract too much attention.
Morbius makes a move to follow Miguel out of Lyla’s room, while you both advance and continue to fire. The evil beast's true target is now abundantly clear, although, with every shot fired into him, each second becomes more agonising.
The very moment you get a clear shot, the gun clicks uselessly with every press of the trigger, all bullets spent, and the window of opportunity gone in a flash. You curse angrily as Morbius turns into mist before descending on Miguel once again.
Your heart is in your mouth as both you and Lyla watch helplessly while the two vampires wrestle on the floor. Grunts, yells and snarls fill the living room as the blade alternates between being pointed upwards and downwards in the power struggle. As desperation strikes, your mind rushes through anything you can do to help. You suspect the blade of the knife is silver, and the pair are fighting to lodge it into the other’s heart, in a bid to kill. Silver… Your hand pats your jeans pocket, remembering that you put your rings in there when you met Peter and his family.
In a moment of utter madness, you toss the gun aside and slip the silver bands onto your fingers and charge forward as Lyla shouts after you. You’re determined to give Miguel any chance to stab Morbius and end the threat to Nueva York. The sense of sound and your rational thinking are non-existent as you reach the evil vampire who still straddles Miguel.
Given that you know from experience how sharp his teeth are, you don’t dare put your hand near his face. The next best option for you is his neck. Your hand thrusts forward as your fingers grip the front and squeeze, making sure that the rings come into contact with his mottled skin.
Morbius’ pupils contract while his eyes widen as the silver pressed against his neck burns him. You see smoke rise as he howls in pain, his grip on the knife loosening.
“Yes!” Miguel grunts out with his final bit of effort as his fingers eventually wrench the weapon from his foe’s clutches.
You push harder, giving his neck and extra firm squeeze before Morbius begins to grab onto your wrist. Mild panic sets in when you spy his claws.
Gripping his enemy’s clothing, Miguel thrusts the knife upwards. But the black whirling mist returns as Morbius disappears and the knife pierces nothing but the air as you start the fall forward. You squeal as Morbius’ sudden absence means you nearly come into contact with the blade, but Miguel pulls it away before you land on it.
Hands from behind grip you, easing your descent to the floor. “Easy, easy,” you hear Lyla say with effort behind her voice, trying not to drop you.
Her business partner stands up, his incensed red eyes glaring down at the knife in his open palm. Rage, frustration and irritation has risen beyond boiling point, and is in danger of reaching Krakatoa proportions of monumental eruptions. “That… fucking COWARD!” Miguel screams, his fangs bared as he launches the knife across the room, lodging itself into a wall.
“Hey!” Lyla shouts, “I know you’re pissed but that is my wall you just put a hole in,” she stands up straight and looks around the place. Her lamp and coat stand strewn over the floor, remnants of dead vampire covering her furniture, the whole place is a mess. “Look at this place!”
You rest your gaze back on Miguel, who is clearly not giving a care in the world about the state of Lyla’s apartment for just a moment. His breathing is heavy, filtering through gritted teeth. Suddenly, his breath hitches as his hands rush to his side. “Fuck!” he hisses as his knees buckle.
Lyla returns to his side as you do too, helping him down to the floor again as he winces and clutches the stab wound. The both of you guide him to lean against a kitchen counter. “Just sit still and regenerate as much as you can,” his business partner instructs him like a bossy matron in a hospital as she gets up and goes looking for a dustpan and brush.
Soft panting fills the air as Miguel concentrates on healing himself, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment to relax and calm his frayed nerves.
Sitting beside the injured vampire, you observe him quietly, that is until he eventually places his free hand on your arm.
“You did well, Y/N. A natural, in fact,” he mumbles, a slither of red peeking out from under his heavy eyelids.
No matter how much you try to hold it back, his compliment brings a smile to your face. “I don’t know whether to be proud or scared of myself.”
Miguel laughs lazily, air huffing between his parted lips. His chuckle hurt his wound slightly, making him hiss momentarily. “Be proud for now, worry about it later…”
Now that you get a proper look at him, you can tell his clothes and the back of his neck had been scratched up. You guess that happened during the fight with the horde of vampires when you entered the apartment. “Are you going to be okay?” you ask, sounding more concerned than you originally intended.
Air rushes through his nostrils as he takes in a deep breath. “Yeah, I’ll be alright. I suppose a good part about being a vampire is I can recover from injuries faster,” he mumbles as he peels his hand away from his side. “Getting better already…”
As you two talk, Lyla makes several trips to and from the dustbin, pouring grey ash into it after every trip.
Miguel’s hand finally slips from your arm and thuds against the floor slightly. “He’s getting stronger,” he announces, which you assume is for Lyla’s benefit. His business partner stops what she’s doing and looks at him, concern etched across her face.
“We have to stop him before he does his usual disappearing act,” he grumbles slightly, still feeling angry over yet another opportunity to kill Morbius slipping through his fingers.
A question pops into your mind. “Can’t you do that too? You’ve said before that you inherit other traits from Morbius. So, surely you can do that too? Play him at his own game?”
Miguel exchanges a look with Lyla before locking eyes with you. “I- um…” he pauses with hesitation, “...never learned how,” he answers, almost looking ashamed before glancing left and right, thinking of something. “But, that’s not going to kill Morbius is it?” he asks as he prepares to stand up again, which you watch intently, making sure he won’t squish you if he falls.
“No, but it could have got you out of trouble, like Morbius sneaking up and attacking you,” you reply as you, too, stand. A very faint snort comes from Lyla as she dumps another load of ash into her bin, clearly finding your response amusing.
Large hands rest on his narrow hips as his eyes narrow slightly at your comment. “Well, until fairly recently, I haven’t had the need to try.” He folds his arms shortly after, the tiniest hint of a pout forming across his plump lips.
The metal lid of Lyla’s bin clangs shut as Lyla deposits the remaining pile of ash in it. “Y/N has a point. You’re not using everything you have at your disposal,” she begins as she puts the dustpan and brush away under her kitchen sink. “If you want Morbius gone, you’re going to have to pull out all of the stops.”
Miguel’s little pout turns into a frown as he tries to think about how he can teach himself to vanish like Morbius does, but he guesses that his foe must have learned to do it himself, too. After his brief moment of contemplation, he brushes his thoughts aside and looks at Lyla. “How are you holding up?”
His business partner leans against her kitchen counter as she folds her arms. “I’m okay. Tired and a little sore. I guess I was followed and captured when I got back here.”
Boots thud dully against the wooden flooring as Miguel goes to correct the coat stand and lamp. “It’s not safe for you here, Lyla. I want you to sleep at the shelter for the foreseeable future. Until we put an end to Morbius.”
As you hear the exchange between the two, you think Lyla will argue to remain here, but you’re surprised to see her agree. She really does trust him. So much so, she knows that when he tells her to leave her apartment to stay safe, she does it without question.
“Pack your essentials and drive to Las Sombras, okay?” he continues, “I have to run an errand with Y/N.”
Lyla nods as she moves back into her bedroom to grab her bag and pack.
Back on the road again, Miguel’s Harley Davidson roars as he makes it go as fast as he legally can. He swerves in and out of lanes, climbing through the evening traffic, hoping to reach your apartment building as soon as possible. Anxiousness is at an alltime high, knowing what could be lurking in the streets of Nueva York. He just wants to get you back to the shelter and out of the dark and dangerous shroud of night.
It has been twenty-four hours since you were last in your apartment. So much has happened since then that it makes your head spin. There has been a lot to unpack from everything you have learned and yet there is more drama developing. Who knew so much drama could come from a single tip-off from a civilian of Nueva York. You start off as an inquisitive journalist and now you’re in the midst of essentially a bloody and vicious war between two vampires.
After experiencing the horrors from earlier, you now expect to see your room full of vampires when you switch your main light on as you enter your apartment. But relief floods your mind when nothing of the sort appears.
The giant steps over the threshold, ducking under your door frame, but as you watch him you see that he looks tired and a little gloomier than normal.
“Pack a bag with a change of clothes. We have a washing machine at the shelter so you don’t need to pack too much,” Miguel instructs you as he takes in his surroundings. You have a nice collection of plants - the verdant colours adding the feel of life to your home. Overall, he thinks your apartment looks cosy and comfortable - certainly a lot more homely than a repurposed subway station.
Leaving Miguel in your open-plan living room area and kitchen, you enter your bedroom and find a bag. Grabbing a collection of tops, underwear, jeans and leggings you stuff them in a case along with toiletries and a hair brush.
With your bag slung over your shoulder, and your laptop case in hand, you approach Miguel who’s resting his weight on the back of your couch. His usually tanned skin looking paler than before. “Are you alright, Miguel?” you ask, as concern etches across your face.
His weary red eyes look up at you before straightening himself back up and clearing his throat, although he doesn’t look entirely steady. “I’m fine,” answers. “Are you ready?” His right hand, which looks like it’s shaking, reaches into his pocket for his keys as he takes a step toward your apartment door. However, he never makes it. To your surprise, his knees buckle from underneath him and the vampire collapses heavily on the floor. “Shit!” he growls in frustration, “not now!”
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Naturally, you're struggling to sleep after the night you have just had. Your mind is full of even more questions and someone decides to take you down memory lane.
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Minors DNI - Eventual smut and descriptions of violence.
Word count - 7657
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Contains - Descriptions of violence, some scenes may be considered disturbing.
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Pt 1 Pt 2
It comes as a surprise that you do drift off to sleep. What isn’t a surprise is that your dreams represent something like a circus of horror. Each scene of your dreams consist of you running away from who you suspect is Michael - or you have since learned his other name, Morbius. His evil red eyes advancing on you each time you turn back to look.
Because of Michael’s treachery, even in your dreams, you are wary about those who are in them. Miguel pops up from time to time too, who either morphs into Morbius, tries to bite you, or he lectures you on trusting way too easily.
You wake suddenly, unable to tell if fear made your eyes snap wide open or if irritation towards dream-Miguel did. What you do know is, you’re now too awake to slip back off to sleep, however. If a nightmare is what’s going to greet you, you’d rather stay awake.
Checking the time on your phone - that is now fully charged thanks to Lyla, - you see it has just gone three AM.
The distant sound of people talking gets your attention, reminding you that you’re not the only person awake at this time. Peeling back your blankets, you get up off the mattress and amble quietly out into the communal area.
You spy most of the youngsters talking amongst themselves, lounging across the couches. Miles is missing however, and you wonder where he has got to.
Before you’re able to wander over to the social area and introduce yourself, unexpected movement behind you makes you spin round and face whatever it is, heart pounding and eyes wide.
Miguel freezes when your attention lands on him after he comes back down from closing the nightclub for the night. “Easy. It’s just me,” he says, raising placating hands. The moment he sees you relax again, he lowers them and gestures towards you. “You should be asleep.”
You can’t stop yourself from letting out some kind of irritated scoff. “Do you seriously think I can sleep after the evening I’ve had?”
The large vampire shrugs in a relenting manner - he guesses you have a point. “You should try-“
“I have more questions,” you interject before he lets out a tired sigh and slumps his shoulders. “Fine; go to your room and we can talk there,” his gaze wanders over the younger vampires briefly, who look like they’re in their own little world, talking to each other or looking at their phones.
As you walk back to your room, you begin to gather your questions in your mind. Miguel follows you into the repurposed ticket office and watches you sit down on the mattress while he leans against a wall, folding his arms, looking down at you expectantly.
“Um…” you begin as you hesitantly pluck the first question out of your brain. “When I met Michael yesterday morning, I shook hands with him and he recoiled. He claimed it was a paper cut, but given what I know now, I guess he was lying about what caused that reaction?”
Those stern red eyes of his travel down to your right hand, he spots some rings encircling your middle finger. “Your jewellery… What metal is it?”
You look down at your hand, turning it over in front of you. “Silver,” you answer as you look back up at Miguel who nods in response.
“Vampires can’t touch silver. It burns them. It’s more than likely the skin on his hand came into contact with your rings and got scorched.”
Good… you think to yourself as you look back down at your hand once more… He deserved it. Then you think of your next question. “You call him Morbius. Why is that?”
“That’s his last name,” Miguel answers. “Our names are similar, it’s just easier to refer to him as Morbius.”
That makes sense - Miguel; Michael. They are both essentially the same name, but in different languages.
Your next couple of questions are more to do with the man in front of you than anything else. “Earlier, you couldn’t look at my bite for very long. What happened? Are you squeamish?” your question is met with a dark laugh.
“A squeamish vampire? No,” he answers as he unfolds his arms and pushes his thumbs through his belt loops. “I couldn’t look at your bite for too long because I realised why Morbius broke his recent diet of youthful victims to bite the likes of you.”
His response deepens your intrigue, if not slightly insults you - who says you’re not youthful too? “And why is that?”
“You smell exquisite. And because he turned me, I inherit his preferences for taste…”
A protective hand covers your bite mark on your neck in response. “No; you’re not coming anywhere near-“
“I don’t bite anyone without their consent, no matter how good they might smell or taste. Unlike Morbius, I am restrained and under control.”
His sharp words silence you for a moment. It’s clear your assumption offended him. Earlier, he did exercise restraint and called Lyla over to help clean you up, so he didn’t have to be exposed to your scent any longer. You begin to feel you should start tarring Miguel with a different brush…
“I’m sorry. This is just a lot to take in,” you apologise as your shoulders slump, which in turn makes Miguel sigh as he realises he might’ve been too hard on you. Then, you consider the red tattoo on his neck, which inspires your next question.
“That spider tattoo… what is its significance? If there is any…”
“Can’t a man express himself?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you. “I like spiders. They’re interesting creatures,” he pauses for a moment and points to his neck. “It also hides where I was bitten…”
A distant rumble of a train running through a neighbouring tunnel disturbs the silence that falls between you and Miguel. His answer reminds you of your interest in finding out how he became a vampire. He mentioned earlier that Morbius had turned him. But why? How? Taking in a deep breath to pluck up your courage, you ask Miguel your next question.
“How did you become a vampire, exactly?”
The eyes of the man before you, standing so casually, narrows slightly at your question. His whole body stiffens while his memories haunt him as he recollects them. “Fine, if you really want to know…” he mutters as he steps towards the mattress. “May I?” Miguel points to the opposite end of it, making sure there’s still space between you.
With a gentle nod, you permit him to take a seat at the bottom of the mattress while you occupy the top end.
The coils inside contract underneath his incredible weight as he takes a seat, almost making you tilt forwards as he takes up so much room. You know he is big, but when you’re both sharing a small space, he seems so much bigger.
Hugging your knees to your chest, you listen to his story, picturing it in your mind as he talks.
Miguel O’Hara, a single father and an older brother, lived in a small village outside of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, two hundred years ago. Despite the sudden and tragic loss of his beloved wife, he lived a fairly happy life. His daughter, Gabriella, was the apple of his eye and the sunshine that he needed to make him thrive and be the best man he could be for his family and his town.
Townsfolk labelled him as the ‘friendly giant’. Claimed that he was blessed with his strength and height, putting it to use to help around where he lived. He was their local hero, a good man, a saint or an angel sent from above.
His brother, Gabriel was a close family member. He frequently visited the O’Hara home, especially after Miguel’s wife passed away. Uncle Gabriel offered to look after his niece while Miguel worked around the town.
All the while, a local watched from the shadows, taking careful attention to the man’s strength and good health.
Over time, Miguel became aware of the extra pair of eyes watching him, but whenever he tried to address the loitering stranger, they had disappeared, almost like they were never there in the first place.
One dark winter’s evening, rain cascaded down from the heavens. Curtains of water poured from the roofs of every house.
Miguel was returning home from a job tasked by a member of the small community, but was forced to take shelter under a porch to avoid a total drenching. He hoped the intensity of the rain would lessen soon; the light of the sun through the thick grey clouds had mostly vanished.
The front door the porch belonged to slowly creaked open, causing Miguel to face the owner of the house. “Sorry, I am just taking shelter from the rain. Please don’t let me disturb you…” as Miguel spoke, he realised he hadn’t seen this person before, which was unusual as he lived in such a close-knit community. “Oh, I’ve not seen you before-”
The new face belonged to a man. Pale skin, long, poker-straight black hair and piercing blue eyes. “You are the one who helps around the town. Come in, come in,” the stranger beckons for Miguel to enter. “I couldn’t have you outside catching a cold now, could I?” he asked in a friendly tone as he watched Miguel duck under the door frame as he stepped inside.
A bright fire roared away on the hearth, providing warmth to the home and enveloped around the helpful giant.
“Thank you,” Miguel began as he closed the door behind him. “Who are you? I don’t believe we have met,” he continued before extending a hand to the welcoming stranger, who smiled and reciprocated the gesture.
“Mr. Michael Morbius,” he replied as he gave Miguel’s hand a firm squeeze.
“Ah - Miguel O’Hara. A pleasure to meet you.”
Rain continued to pour, not looking as though it was going to let up for quite a while. The thick, heavy droplets of water thundered against the roof, competing with the loud crackling of the fire in the fireplace.
“Please, sit,” Morbius gestured to a couch in his living room after releasing his guest’s hand.
The pair took a seat in the warmest room of the house and talked while they waited for the abysmal weather to die down.
“So, how come I haven’t seen you around the town, Mr. Morbius?” Miguel asked with intrigue. He thought he had met everyone, he certainly did many favours for most if not all of them.
“Oh, I’m relatively new to the town. That’s probably why. But I hear a lot about you. Many people sing your praises, Mr. O’Hara.”
A faint, pink hue flushed across his cheeks as he awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “I like helping, and people insist on paying me for my trouble.”
Just looking at Miguel’s build, Morbius could see why he was considered useful. Being both strong and tall, it was a perfect combination for an all-round handy-man.
“Forgive me for sounding so intrusive Mr. O’Hara, but you must have a good diet and a healthy family history to be so big and strong,” Morbius commented as he steepled his fingers together, leaning back in his armchair.
Miguel thought that was a rather strange compliment, but it was a compliment nonetheless. “Uhh, thank you,” he began. “There’s nothing special about my daily life, nor my family history that I know about owing to my physique. I guess I’m just lucky.”
Morbius nodded as he listened to his guest’s answer. A smile formed across his face, until he heard the heavy pattering of the rain outside dissipate.
The gentle giant rose from the couch and took a look through a window. “Sounds like the weather is easing up,” he said as he turned back to Morbius. “I should be go-” his words stop dead in their tracks as Morbius had silently advanced on him in the short time he had his back turned.
In a blink of an eye, Morbius’ hand swiftly struck Miguel across the face, snapping his head abruptly to one side, stunning him instantly. His six-foot-nine-inch frame collapsed heavily against the front door and slid down to the floor.
“You shall be most beneficial, Mr. O’Hara…” he grinned menacingly as he dragged the heavy body away from the front door.
The room spun wildly as his eyelids flickered, his mind reeling from the unexpected but devastating knock. Miguel was strong, but this attack was on a different level entirely. He stood no chance and hadn’t even noticed that he had been dragged into the centre of the room.
Sharp teeth sank into the left side of his neck as a soft groan rose from Miguel’s slightly parted lips. A numbing sensation spread from the bite and expanded out towards his extremities.
Apart from the spitting and crackling of the fire, a disturbing silence filled the room as Morbius drank from the town hero.
Despite recovering from the strike to the head, he lay deathly still and quiet, watching the horrors unfold before him, unable to push the vampire away.
Every passing second, he felt more of his life slipping away through his loose fingers. His mind screamed and yelled with frustration while his body simply did nothing, through no fault of its own.
Eventually, even his mind fell silent. The light in his eyes dimmed as his veins no longer carried a drop of blood; his heart thumped its final beat and his lungs exhaled his last breath.
Glowing red eyes snapped wide open in a pitch black, deserted living room. The fire had long been extinguished, but the dazed man didn’t feel the cold. He sat up, trying to get his bearings. His mind was abuzz with many thoughts and questions. Miguel thought he had died. Then, like a dutiful father, his concerns landed on his daughter. He should have been home hours ago. She and Gabriel must be worried sick.
After getting to his feet, he pulled open the front door and took one last look behind him before leaving the house. No one was with him.
With Gabriella locked in his mind, it felt like he flew home at top speed. His long legs were able to take even bigger strides and he couldn’t understand why. Perhaps he was truly dead and was travelling like a spirit, with no limitations that a human is restricted by?
The frantic man burst into his home, startling his concerned-looking brother who was sitting in the living room.
“Where on earth have you been Miguel?” Gabriel exclaimed as he rushed to his older brother, but his eyes widened even further when he took in the sight of his sibling. His normally healthy coloured skin looked paler than normal, and the dark brown of his eyes had turned into a deep shade of blood-red.
“Gabriella; is she okay? Where is she?” Miguel spluttered, seemingly unaware of what he looked like.
“Yes, yes, she is quite well. But, are you?” the younger brother asked, taking a slow, tentative step closer.
Despite what happened to him a few hours ago, he felt perfectly fine. “Yes. Why?”
Gabriel’s gaze landed on Miguel’s neck, spotting two holes in his flesh. “Have you seen yourself lately, brother? Look…” he reached out and took Miguel’s hand and dragged him towards a mirror. “See?”
Nothing could have prepared either of them for what happened next. Only Gabriel was present in the mirror's reflection, even though his older brother was clearly next to him.
Miguel’s hands patted his chest and abdomen, checking to see if he was physically there. He observed them on his chest and then the mirror, before starting the process all over again. That was when he noticed the colour of his skin. “What on earth?”
He turned his hands over repeatedly, looking at the back, then the front, then to the back again.
Gabriel remained silent in shock as he watched the events unfold before him.
“Am I dreaming?” Miguel mumbled to himself, his words snapping his brother out of his stunned silence.
“We are both very much awake, Miguel. But I fear something is terribly wrong with you.”
Gabriel had to describe his older brother’s state. Telling him that the pale colour of his hands extended to the rest of his body and his eyes were now red. And when the younger sibling pointed out the bite marks on his neck, Miguel was forced to explain what had happened. He had hoped it was a bad dream after inexplicably falling unconscious in a stranger’s home, but even that reasoning was flimsy at best. Although it didn’t really make being bitten by a strange man any more believable…
After agreeing that perhaps they were both exhausted from a long day, the brothers decided to worry about the problem tomorrow. Perhaps Miguel was looking peaky due to fatigue, and maybe he would look better in the morning.
It was safe to say that both the brothers were sorely mistaken when the following day arrived. Miguel showed no improvement in his unknown condition, and Gabriella was most disturbed when she saw the state of her father - much to his growing concern.
The distress did not stop there. Before midday, Miguel tried to leave the house, only to retreat back inside as his pale skin felt like it was on fire, the moment the winter sun shone down upon him.
Twenty-four hours after the attack had passed and the sun had set once again over the quiet town. The poor single father was indeed incredibly sick; his stomach rejected every meal put before him, and yet he felt an indescribable hunger which seemed more like a thirst. The strange symptoms worsened as he lay restless in his bed. This need to drink could not be quenched by water, nor alcohol. He needed something thick, warm and fresh.
He felt as though he was in a fever dream. Whatever he was doing seemed so surreal, but he was indeed wide awake and in fact creeping down his stairs, looking to walk barefooted out into the dead of night.
A light dusting of frost covered the ground, but he couldn’t feel it. Sounds from far away seemed close-by, while the once pleasant smell of chimney smoke had become far more intense and overbearing. Miguel felt the need to search the town; to look high and low for someone, or something, as if an urge or instinct was driving him.
Finally, movement stirred between two houses. A stray ginger cat strolled out of the narrow passage, sending Miguel’s senses and instincts into overdrive. He licked his lips as his glowing red eyes locked onto his target. Claws and fangs extended, but he was too lost in his urges to care or worry.
With a clumsy leap, Miguel attempted to pounce on the ownerless feline, but another man’s voice scared it away, causing the bloodthirsty man to crash in a heap. “So, you’re like me now…”
A grunt came from the dazed and confused man as his strong urges ebbed away slightly, but lingered like an irritating, nattering voice in the back of his head. His red eyes fixed on a man who seemed to appear through whirling black mist. “You!?” he growled at the pale man and strode towards him aggressively. “What did you do to me?” Shaking hands seized Mr. Morbius’ clothes, gripping tightly.
The man stood resolute as he chuckled darkly while watching the desperately confused and sickly man grapple him. “I had been watching you for weeks, months even. Your vitality was exceedingly rejuvenating, but I need more. You have a brother, do you not?”
Miguel shunts the vampire away from him in disgust. “You will not touch anyone in my family, OR, anyone else in this village. You have cursed me and I won’t stand by and watch you do the same to others,” his voice was a low, intimidating growl. A tension built up within him as his anger spiked.
There was a strange sensation between his shoulder blades as if something was bursting to come out.
“Why not feed off animals? Why be such a threat to the residents here?”
Reaching forward, Morbius’ hand rested on Miguel’s shoulder and pulled him gently, as he started to walk down the street. The pair ambled side by side in the dead of night down a deserted road, devoid of horses and carriages.
“Vampirism has been a part of my entire life. A virus passed from parent to child until a cure can be found,” he began to explain, keeping his hand on his companion’s shoulder. “You are right - it is a curse and I want to rid myself of it. But, in order to do that, I must make some sacrifices while I experiment with theories.”
The vampire's words made Miguel’s stomach churn uncomfortably. He felt nauseated at the fact that he was nothing more than a test. A hypothesis. His life was so full of love and promise, and now it seems over in a cruel twist of fate. All because this man considered Miguel an interesting avenue to explore in search for a cure.
Anger surged as Miguel’s mind lingered on Morbius’ words. As every second passed, the injustice felt even more severe. Gone are the days blessed with sunlight; the rich taste of his favourite meal will no longer grace his taste buds; his livelihood, his main source of income and family security thrown into total jeopardy.
Claws extended from his fingertips as he felt his fangs protrude from his gums, while his anger raged on within him. The strange stirring between his shoulder blades restarted, growing increasingly stronger by his rapidly mounting wrath.
Morbius finally pulled his hand away and slowed his walking pace down to a stop, indicating that their civil stroll was over. “Now; I trust that you won’t get in my way as I continue my quest for a cure.”
Enraged red eyes narrowed at the man. “You can’t possibly expect me to stand by and let you destroy other innocent people’s lives!”
“That is exactly what I expect. If I see anyone here is of benefit, I shall take what I need. I have lived with this curse for far too long. Maybe one day you will feel the same…” Morbius turned away suggesting that was the end of the conversation, but Miguel wasn’t done. The older vampire’s dismissive demeanour and lack of responsibility for his actions was the red flag that a bull sees before charging at its tormentor.
Dark, bat-like wings burst from between his shoulders, unfurling at incredible speed, spreading out to a twelve-foot wide wing span. Instincts took over, brushing aside any urge to react in surprise, his wings propelled him forward, barrelling into Morbius.
The pair tumbled violently and struck the side of a house; a distant and muffled shriek coming from inside told them they had woken the inhabitants.
It was now Morbius’ turn to spread his wings, in a bid to shunt the inexperienced vampire off his back. “Careful now; you’ll wake up the whole village with your clumsiness,” he hissed with an irritated snarl as he slowly rose to his feet.
Miguel stumbled backwards out into the empty road behind him, his new wings splaying wide to maintain balance. “People need to know there is a monster loose in their town!” he retorted with a hiss. “I will wake them all up if I have to,” he gripped Morbius’ clothes and pulled him close threateningly, but the vampire acted coolly.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You’re like me, now. They’ll be repulsed by you just as much…”
A clenched fist swung for the indifferent man but it never collided with his face. It was like he was a ghost, vanishing in mid-air, leaving nothing but haunting black mist enveloping and curling around his arm.
Then, a sudden, hard force from behind shoved him forwards, stumbling into the external bricks of the house the pair hit a moment ago. His six-foot-nine-inch frame sliding down the wall in a dazed state as windows begin to glow with candle light; the inhabitants had woken up properly from the disturbance now and started to investigate.
Clawed hands gripped onto the joints of Miguel’s wings and wrenched them backwards, pulling him back out into the street. “Perhaps I should just dispose of you - stop you from getting in my way…” sounding as though a sail of a boat becoming taut with strong winds, Morbius’s wings spread wide and flapped powerfully to lift them both.
Miguel grunted in pain, dangling by his newly sprouted wings as the town below him grew smaller with each passing second.
The beast flew eastwards towards the outskirts of the town towards the Delaware river. Due to the recent torrential weather, the river flowed fast between the states of Pennsylvania and New Jersey.
Morbius’s wings were strong, but Miguel was far heavier than he originally anticipated. The flight was laboured, especially when the man below him started to struggle and writhe. He could feel the joints of Miguel’s wings flex under his grip, wriggling manically to get free.
The wrestle continued as the younger vampire’s wings thrashed violently. “Let me go!” he yelled as it felt as though his wings were being ripped from his back.
“Oh, I will, very soon…” Morbius retorted with an evil growl as he slowed his flight, dangling his captive fifty-foot over the fast flowing river. “Have a good swim.”
The horrible wrenching feeling on his wings ceased when Morbius let go of Miguel and a feeling of weightlessness took over. A masculine scream echoed throughout the surrounding trees as he plummeted towards a rushing river bathed in moonlight, until the membrane of his wings spread wide enough to catch the air beneath him. Morbius’ grin dropped and his brows furrowed, surprised that Miguel could control his new wings so quickly.
Using the momentum of the fall, he gained speed and swooped back up before beating his wings hard, coming in fast for a heavy retaliation. A devastating punch smashed into the side of Morbius’ face, making his flapping bat-like appendages stutter and in turn letting him sink lower.
It seemed he had overestimated his new vampire creation; incorrectly assuming that it would take Miguel much longer to adjust. He ran into more complications as Miguel’s punches rained down on him, beating him lower and lower in the air, the roar of the flowing river sounding like ferocious lions snapping at his feet from below.
On top of the barrage of attacks, the down blast of Miguel’s wings pushed him lower still.
After detecting a pattern in the oncoming attacks, Morbius’s clawed hand caught a flying fist and pulled, yanking Miguel down, even closer to the rushing water.
Wings splayed wide, catching the air, desperately to stop himself from plunging into the water and getting swept up with the current.
Lunging forward, pushed by his wings, Morbius gripped Miguel’s throat and charged him headlong into the side of a bridge not too far behind. Clumps of stone plunged into the water, swept away immediately by the flow.
The younger, inexperienced vampire hissed with exposed fangs and clawed at Morbius’ arm.
“You will not stop me,” Michael growled viciously, his hand squeezing tighter around Miguel’s neck.
In a bid to break free, he lashed out with his long legs, kicking at his attacker, shunting him away. As his eyes fixed on the glowing red before him, Miguel focused his dwindling energy and channelled the anger he felt into one almighty kick between Morbius’ legs, causing his wings to stop entirely, followed by an agonising yell.
The pair fell further, however with Miguel’s proximity to the bridge, he was fortunate to catch himself as he watched his enemy plummet into the rushing depths.
Anguished screams pierce the midnight air as Morbius clings for dear life to a bridge support below. It seemed as though he was in pain, not just from the kick, but he behaved as though the rushing water was burning his skin.
A withering hand rose and reached out for Miguel. “Help! Help me!” he choked out between pain-fueled howls, however the persistent torrent weakened him with every passing second.
Miguel’s pragmatic side battled with his morals as he watched Morbius suffer. But the ominous red in his eyes glowed brighter the more he realised he was putting an end to the beast of the village.
His screams turned into gurgling and spluttering exclamations as the force of the river weakened his grip and slowly pushed him completely under the surface. What was once the youthful, soft flesh on Morbius’ hand, now resembled something gnarled and burned. Finger by finger, his grip peeled away as disturbing and haunting sounds of screams and grunts bubbled up from underneath the water until there was nothing left.
Clinging onto the side of the bridge, Miguel felt relieved that the stones he held onto remained strong. He didn’t want to find out exactly why vampires should fear running water. It certainly seemed like a thoroughly painful experience.
Without the need of his wings, they stowed away into their resting position and vanished - that was going to take some getting used to. The claws extending from his fingertips proved to be extremely useful to gain purchase on the side of the bridge and clamber up and reach safety.
Feeling the victory of ending the threat to his village didn’t last long. He stopped dead at the end of the bridge, on the path leading back to his town when he spotted a member of the community staring at him in bewilderment.
From Miguel’s perspective, he was the hero. He saved the town from an evil vampire who would have no qualms with destroying people’s lives for a personal gain. But from the villager’s perspective, a winged beast had just dispatched another without listening to a single plea for mercy.
“Stay back!” the onlooker shouted as he took a cautious step backwards.
Placating hands rose as Miguel tried to calm the other man down. “All is fine. The beast is gone, he is no longer a threat.”
The stranger watched in fear as glowing red eyes drew nearer. In a panic, he turned and fled back to the village, leaving Miguel on his own, in the dead of night.
Life had gone from bad to worse for Miguel after that night. The locals did not understand that firstly, Morbius was the original threat, and secondly, that Miguel wasn’t one. Rumours of a vicious beast spread around the town despite the O’Hara family claiming that Miguel was not dangerous. All pleas of innocence fell upon deaf ears and the once friendly, close-knit community turned their backs on their gentle giant.
Miguel was forced to leave the town and his family. Entrusting his brother to look after his daughter in his absence.
Decades passed by as Miguel watched Gabriella grow up from a painful distance. Forced to feel shame for who he was by people who did not understand him. By the time his brother and eventually his daughter passed away while Miguel lived on, he had turned into a stern and bitter man. Opinions on humanity were at an all time low. He walked amongst them at night with contempt in Nueva York after trying to create a new life for himself, until he made an unlikely friendship with one, Lyla Renfield…
“And that will be a story for another time…” Miguel gets to his feet from the mattress, making you rock backwards as the coils spring upwards. “I have somebody I need to speak to in a minute.”
His story has left you reeling. The sheer injustice of it all takes your breath away. Not just because of what Morbius did to Miguel, but how the rest of the village treated him after. The fact he was forced out of his town, forced to separate from his family and the curse he was afflicted by meant he watched his own daughter pass away before him. You can’t begin to imagine what that might do to someone.
You stand up too. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” your voice full of sympathy. After hearing his story, you can see why he is so blunt and perhaps not so easy to trust - humans specifically.
Red eyes look you up and down, his expression solemn after sharing such a personal and tragic story. “It is what it is,” he responds before starting to leave your room, knowing that you’ll follow. His words make you suspect that is something he has droned into himself over the last two hundred years. “My story is the reason why I run this place. A safe environment for recently turned vampires to stay while they adjust to their new lives.”
As you enter the communal area again, you see Miles has returned along with someone you haven’t yet seen before. But before Miguel speaks again, a fiery-orange blur swoops into Miguel’s face, knocking him over backwards, landing hard on the tiled floor, his yells of surprise muffled slightly.
“Ah, crap. Mayday, sweetie; come back to daddy,” a man with short, tufty brown hair standing next to Miles calls out, while the nearby youngsters chuckle at the incident. Looking down, you see a small child, not even a year old yet with flame-red hair practically sitting on top of Miguel’s thick neck, her tiny hands pinching and patting his cheeks while he begrudgingly lets it happen. Then, you notice the child’s little bat-like wings, making your brows furrow in concern.
“Come on, you little scamp,” the man who you presume is the child’s father reaches down to prise the girl off Miguel.
“Miggy!” Mayday coos as she reaches out for the handsome man getting up on his feet again with a groan.
“Don’t let mom hear you say that; she’ll be so mad if she finds out you’re saying ‘Miggy’ before ‘mama’…”
“Mad if I hear Mayday say what?” another voice speaks out, making the father wince suddenly.
A woman with the same colour flame-red hair as the child comes into the room carrying a cool-box and carefully sets it down on the floor. She looks up, her hands now resting on her hips, her face wearing an expectant expression.
Miguel clears his throat, putting an end to the awkward silence filling the area. “Thanks, MJ. We’re going to need as much as we can get,” he begins before he notices that the man and woman are staring at you. “Oh, this is Y/N. One of Morbius’ latest targets.”
The friendly, brown-haired man steps forward with an outstretched hand. “Hey, Y/N. Nice to meet you. I’m Peter.”
A tanned hand stops you from taking Peter’s, causing you to look up at Miguel. “You’re wearing silver, remember?”
Looking down at your hand, you observe your jewellery. You find yourself stunned that in a place like this, a simple metal band encircling your finger could be used as a weapon. “Oh, right. Of course,” you slip off your rings and drop them in your jeans pocket. Outstretching your hand again to complete your introduction.
Next, you shake MJ’s hand as she, too, greets you. As her skin comes into contact with yours, you notice her hand feels much warmer than Peter’s.
“So, the little one’s a vampire?” you ask with intrigue as you point to Mayday who’s leaning out of her fathers arms, reaching for you; her little fingers spread wide, desperately trying to grab you. Eventually, she bursts out of Peter’s arms, her little wings flapping wildly until she settles herself with you.
“Actually, she’s a dhampir. Half-human, half-vampire,” Peter replies, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.
Your brows furrow as you hold the little child in your arms, her tiny hands playing with your hair.
“After we found out MJ was pregnant, we decided to consult Google - as you do. Who knew Dungeons and Dragons websites would be so useful!” as you listen to Peter, you can’t help but smile. He’s the total opposite to Miguel; fun, seemingly carefree, cheery and very friendly.
“A damp- what?” you ask. That certainly isn’t a term you’ve heard before, but you’ve never taken anything vampiric seriously before…
“A dhamphir; D H A M-“
“It seems, after cautious testing, Peter and MJ’s child appears to have some qualities of both human and vampire. She can fly, scale walls, use some form of hypnosis, while still being able to go out during the day. We suspect, as she gets older she won’t be quite as powerful as a full vampire, but won’t have as many weaknesses as we do either,” Miguel pauses his interjection while his gaze lands on Peter. “You shouldn’t solely rely on those websites, you know…”
“Hey, I’m just saying these sites might be useful seeing as there isn’t much else to go by for vampires!” The pair start to bicker while MJ tries to intervene, all the while your attention is drawn to Mayday in your arms, who seems to be transfixed with you. She has the biggest, sparkliest blue eyes you have ever seen. As your gaze lands on her, you see a tiny little smile develop on her chubby face. She looks so sweet, good enough to eat, like a snack. Hmmm snacks…
Without even realising it, you begin to walk past the three arguing adults with Mayday happily seated in your arms. “Just going to get some snacks…” you announce dreamily, eyes fixed in the direction of the kitchen.
All three of them pause in the middle of their fight to look at you.
Miguel face-palms and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Por dios…”
“Uhh, Mayday; let’s not hypnotise our guest into giving you snacks. You’ve had some already…” Peter steps forward and plucks the child out of your arms, leaving you to blink wildly for a moment while Mayday's powers of persuasion leave you. Did a baby just hypnotise you?
“We should probably get going, anyway…” MJ breaks the silence as she looks up to Miguel. “Those packs should be frozen pretty soon before the contents go bad,” Miguel suddenly pulls his large hand away from his face and looks down at the cool-box. “Ah… yes. Thanks, MJ,” he picks up the blue and white box and waves off the family of three before carrying it towards what looks like a small kitchen area, except there’s no hob or oven. Instead, a large freezer unit hums loudly in the small room. He lifts the lid, allowing freezing-cold mist to curl and creep out over the edge, revealing many packs full of crimson-red frozen liquid.
“So, you don’t feed on people directly?” you ask in surprise as you watch Miguel place the new packs from the cool box into the freezer.
“No, we don’t,” he replies simply as he carefully deposits another handful of packs inside. “I have only ever done it once - but I had consent,” he adds to his answer. Just once in his two hundred year history of being a vampire? That is impressive.
“Where does MJ get all this blood from?” you ask with building intrigue.
The handsome vampire pauses and looks at you. “You’re so inquisitive, aren’t you?” he looks back into the cool-box and takes the last handful. “I suppose it’s a good trait to have, working as a journalist…”
The heavy insulated lid thuds as he closes the freezer again, the lingering mist dissipating quickly.
“MJ works at the local hospital. I don’t know how she does it, but she manages to provide a supply of blood to us every week so we stay well stocked.”
The more you find out, the more you realise Miguel has worked tirelessly to find a way of keeping vampires and humans safe from each other. Using people that he knows to help provide a safe environment for the youngsters and keep them out of sight from prying human eyes.
“Was Peter talking with Miles earlier?” you continue to ask.
Miguel leans back against a kitchen counter and folds his arms. “Peter is the ‘counsellor’, for want of a better word. He has a sunny disposition most of the time whereas I do not. I find it’s better that he talks to Morbius’ victims - I’m not really a positive kind of person - not anymore anyways…” his gaze lowers to his boots, it’s clear his past still haunts him.
Placing your hands on the counter opposite him, you hoist yourself up to sit on it. “So what am I going to do about work in a few hours time?”
“Call in sick so you can hide your bite mark. I don’t want more inquisitive people asking you questions…” he pauses as he looks you dead in the eye. “Maybe you can work remotely? You’re safer in here than you are out there.”
“But it’ll be day time when I work…”
“Tell me Y/N, is it still light when you leave work in the evenings? Do you use the subway to get to and from work? Morbius will use anything to his advantage if he wants to continue pursuing you. What if you bump into other victims we don’t yet know about who like the smell of you?”
Miguel’s barrage of questions makes your breath falter. There are so many things you haven’t considered. You sigh as you try to gather your thoughts. “My laptop is at home… if I’m going to work remotely then I need that at least.”
He runs his hand through his slicked-back hair before speaking again. “When Lyla’s about tomorrow, she can escort you to your place and you can fetch your laptop. She’ll drive, so you don’t have to use public transport.”
You give a nod in response before yawning - your lack of sleep is catching up with you.
“You should rest,” Miguel tells you, his red eyes fixed on yours.
“Too scared to…” you reply, dropping your gaze from his intense stare and now focussing on your feet as they dangle from the counter.
“I can help - if you’ll let me,” Miguel suggests, making you look back up at him quizzically. “I rarely use my powers but I can get you off to sleep. You just need to trust me.”
Looking into his sincere face, you feel he’s speaking the truth. You also cast your mind back to Lyla telling you that she trusts him without a doubt. Perhaps you can do the same... “Alright…” you concede as you slip down from the countertop.
He follows you silently into your makeshift bedroom and watches you lie down on your mattress. You drape your blankets over you as you prepare for whatever trick he has up his sleeve for you.
The mattress yet again dips low as he sits next to you, his expression unreadable.
“Do you trust me?” he asks you with a low and serious voice.
You look up at his towering frame beside you, it’s hard not to feel a little intimidated, but after learning what you now know about him, you don’t think he’s a bad person. To answer him, you give a nod.
“Focus on me, okay?” he says as he partially leans over you, his red eyes that are starting to glow, locked onto yours.
Shorter strands of his dark-brown hair flops over his face as he looms above, his large hands causing the mattress to dip either side of you. Those are the last things you notice before you’re completely consumed by his gaze.
Even if you wanted to look away, you can’t. Your pounding heart slows as you start to feel increasingly tired. Your body relaxes and feels heavier the longer he stares into what feels like your soul.
Eventually, you feel like your state of mind is being altered somehow as your eyelids get increasingly heavier. There is a sense of calm within you. Serenity that cancels out any pre-existing concerns and haunting memories, and then, you fade away to somewhere only your subconscious knows is a happy and safe place.
Miguel watches you, even after your eyes have been closed for a couple of minutes. He looks torn with furrowed eyebrows to accompany his slight frown. You said you trust him, but temptation is rearing its ugly head.
You look so peaceful and in a deep, heavy sleep induced by hypnosis, you won’t know a thing… He shakes his head, repulsed by his brief moment of weakness. He’s not a monster. He’s not like Morbius. But, he allows himself one treat.
Leaning down, lowering himself over you, he carefully nuzzles into the crook of your neck; your hair tickling his nose slightly. The furrowing of his brows become more pronounced as he whimpers softly at your delicious scent. You smell so good. His jaws clench, simulating latching onto your neck and drinking deep. His fingers grip the sheets on top of the mattress as he suppresses his growing urge to bite. You trust him. He’s not like Morbius…
A hand cups the side of your face as he presses his nose harder against your neck, breathing in deeply. His eyes close as the scent of your blood almost ascends him into another plane of existence.
Finally, he lets out a disappointed sigh as he pulls away from you, the red in his eyes dimming once again.
Large, tanned hands pull your blankets up to your shoulders as you sleep on; blissfully unaware of how close he was to you just now.
The coils in your mattress return to normal again as Miguel gets back to his feet and silently leaves your room.
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You're inspired to continue your investigation after work. Just what will you discover on the streets of Nueva York?
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Minors DNI - Eventual smut and descriptions of violence.
Word count - 7659
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Contains : Descriptions of violence and mild amount of blood.
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Pt 1
The last of the sunlight hangs over the western horizon of Nueva York by the time you get home to your small apartment. You have only been there for two minutes when your phone buzzes.
A vibrant smile spreads across your face when you realise it’s Mike. He did as he said he would, he must be keen - or just a decent person.
First, you save the number under a new contact called Michael and then reply.
You watch happily as the little dots in the speech bubble at the bottom of your phone screen bounce up and down as Mike replies.
Butterflies come alive in your stomach as you read his reply, the urge to squeal in delight is almost too strong to hold back. Another buzz of your phone brings you back down to earth, keen to read his next message.
You smile at his reply. He’s so sweet and seems invested in the story you’re about to tell. You enjoy his little emojis in his texts; underneath that anxious and retiring exterior is someone who considers themselves as rather animated and you find it cute.
His last text surprises you. He wants to help you? You could hug yourself with excitement. If he’s not into you, then you’re the Queen of England.
You give him a time to meet up at the subway station you last saw him at and put your phone down to go change your clothes.
In your simple jeans, t-shirt and woollen cardigan, you toss a quick and simple microwavable meal in the microwave and wait for a couple of minutes for it to cook. Butterflies still flutter in your stomach as you think about seeing the handsome man again.
As your meal continues to spin slowly in the microwave, you look out of a window and notice just how quickly it gets dark now that summer has been over for a few weeks. There’s another good reason to have Michael with you; someone to keep you safe, just in case there are any mad lunatics wandering around.
Your microwave beeps, signalling that your meal has been warmed up which snaps you out of your daydream. Tentatively, you take your meal out, trying to avoid burning your delicate fingers.
Exercising marvellous restraint, you eat your food in a controlled manner, not bolting it down and racing out of the door, especially when you get a text from him to say that he’s on his way.
After eating, you brush your teeth, then slip your boots on and leave, heading straight for the subway.
The regular lighting in Las Sombras has now been switched off, replaced by a moodier theme. LED bulbs that sit on top of the fake candles in the candelabras are dimmed, darkening the look and feel of the nightclub which is due to open very soon.
Lyla hooks up a music device to the sound system and selects a playlist matching the theme.
Coming from the private rooms of the nightclub, a towering man ducks under the door frame as he walks through, his expression serious, looking as though he is in deep thought.
The female business owner looks at him as she restocks shelves with freshly cleaned glasses. “Are you heading out now?”
“Yep,” he responds as he zips his leather jacket up over his cream, long-sleeved shirt, the colour complimenting his beautiful tan-coloured skin.
“You got that picture of Miles I sent you?” she continues, a couple of glasses clink together as she places two more onto the shelf.
“Yes, I have. He just better not have gone too far, otherwise it’ll be like searching for a needle in a haystack,” he grumbles as he idly looks at his phone.
“You’ll get him,” Lyla replies with confidence before turning to face him and lean against the bar. “You always get them. Anyway, I’ll be here, ready for Miles when you get back.”
A small, almost undetectable smile teases across his lips. “Thanks - hey, sorry if I was shitty with you earlier.”
The woman gives a dismissive shrug which is followed by a cheeky wink. “You’re always shitty, but it’s fine. It’s your love language, I get it.”
And just like that, any minuscule trace of a smile vanishes in an instant. “Lyla…” his tone of mild annoyance is met with an impish giggle.
“Relax! I don’t fancy you anyway… gross,” she chortles before picking up a cloth to clean the bar. “Go on, get hunting…”
“Fine, see you later,” the moody man makes his way outside, the chilly night air rushes through his silky, dark-brown locks.
A couple of minutes later the alley beside the nightclub erupts with the sound of the thunderous engine of a Harley Davidson motorcycle as he starts it. The single light on the front illuminates the narrow space as he slowly rolls the modified bike forwards.
Due to his impressive height, all other Harleys were too small for him - a much higher frame needed to be built, just for him. His chopper is his pride and joy, its loud sound of rolling thunder stokes the glowing hot coals in his dark soul.
After pushing his booted left foot down to change the gear into first, he twists the right handle forward and guides the roaring vehicle out of the alleyway, the noise of the engine reverberating between the buildings.
As he rides, he tries to put himself in Miles’ shoes. It’ll be highly likely that he’s scared, confused and hungry, so he’s bound to make things more difficult for him by lurking in the shadows and being quiet.
The leather-clad man rides slowly down several nearly deserted streets. His red eyes peer keenly into each secluded nook as his bike rumbles along down every street, but there’s nothing.
In the final street the rider has in mind before widening his search, he spots sudden movement retreating into an alley as he turns down the new road. The corners of his lips tug into a slight smile. Gotcha…
After stopping directly in front of the narrow passageway the figure darted into, the six-foot-nine-inch man shuts off the engine, plummeting the street into total silence. Then, he dismounts before facing into nothing but darkness. “I know you’re in there,” he calls out as he slides his phone from his pocket. A bright blueish-white light pierces the pure black before him as he slowly walks forward, his boots making a gentle thud with each gradual step.
A faint shuffling sound tells him that whoever it is has moved further into the alleyway.
“I just want to talk,” he continues as he moves his phone about to shine light somewhere else down the narrow passageway.
Finally, the torch illuminates a tall but slim young man, huddled up against the wall, dressed in a red, puffy jacket and jeans. He shies away from the light, squirming slightly as if to try to get away.
The man lowers his torch from the kid’s face and crouches down next to him. “Name?” he asks stiffly.
Uncurling slightly, the terrified boy looks up at the stranger, unsure whether he can trust him or not. “M- Miles Morales, sir,” he stutters with nervousness and uncertainty.
Despite finding the boy, his expression does not change. “Miles, huh? I’m Miguel. How long have you been hiding away like this?” he continues to ask, his tone making his questions sound more like an interrogation.
Miles gulps as his eyes try to focus on the dark figure in front of him, the light of his torch making it hard for him to see even though it isn’t pointed directly at him. “About a week?” he offers tentatively.
“Hmm…” the leather-clad man hums in a deep voice as he thinks. “I want you to come with me,” he continues as his hand reaches out, grasping the smooth material of Miles’ puffy jacket and pulling him up rather abruptly, causing him to yelp.
“Yo! Wait!” he grips onto the stranger and tries to slip out of his clutches. “Where are you taking me?” With a grip as resolute as the stranger’s, Miles struggles to break free. He feels the towering man lean in closer, the red tint to his eyes faintly detected, even in the dark.
“Your new home.”
The young man gulps again, unable to judge by the sound of his voice whether that is a good thing or not. He could tell the man holding him is strong, but not just through his grip; the stranger exuded strength, feeling like an aura - a dangerous one.
As he is pulled unwillingly towards the bike, he watches the stranger in a terrified silence slide out his phone and text somebody, before stuffing it back in his pocket.
“Get on the bike, don't even think of getting away, I will catch you.”
That, Miles did not doubt. If what he senses is anything to go by, he doesn’t seem like someone to be trifled with. Feeling as though his body is operating on autopilot, he mounts the back of the bike before the stranger joins him. The streetlights above only now show the sheer size of his captor. Fingers clench around the edges of his seat as he stares nervously into the back of the still faceless stranger.
Without any warning, the bike roars into life, the rolling thunder returning with a ferocious vengeance, making Miles flinch in his madly vibrating seat.
Wasting no time, the stranger swipes the kickstand with his foot, making it click into place and twists the throttle, making the red and black beast of a motorcycle roll off down the street…
After walking down several streets, you and Michael talk as you check each secluded nook and cranny for anything that might aid your investigation. So far, you have found absolutely nothing. However the evening is not a total loss; you and your new friend have so much in common and he is a total delight to be around.
As you continue your walk, a cold shiver runs down your spine - perhaps you should have brought a coat with you…
Michael looks down at you as he walks by your side. “Are you cold, Y/N?”
Your arms wrap around yourself as you smile at your walking companion. “I’m fine, but I should probably call the search off soon before I turn into an icicle,” you joke and Michael chuckles, amused by your humour.
His arm snakes around yours, making your smile widen and a blush to spread across your cheeks. “I’ll keep you warm,” he whispers to you softly as your brain starts to turn into mush.
You don’t know what it is, but he has an undeniable, irresistible affect on you. His charm makes your heart all aflutter and your knees weak.
After rounding a corner, you recognise the street you are now in, the loud music of Las Sombras thumping in the distance. You feel Michael stop walking as you stroll past the entrance of what looks like an old abandoned three-storey townhouse. His eyes wander over the lack of boards crossing the open door frame. “You think you might find something in there?”
You, too, look at the opening, considering Michael’s suggestion. “It’s possible the culprit could be hiding in there…” you take a step over the threshold and look back at him as he watches you. “Are you coming?”
A faint smile spreads across his face, looking pleased that he has suggested something that could aid your investigation.
Reaching out, you take his hand and lead him inside…
At first glance, the ground floor offers nothing new to your search. No signs of recent life, not even a dead rat to spot amongst the piles of trash littering the creaking floorboards.
“Hmm… nothing so far,” you say as you turn back towards the stairs to check out the upper levels, but Michael stops you with a pleading-like expression on his face.
Gently, his hands trace up and down your arms, his fingertips roaming over the bumps of your woollen cardigan. “We can check upstairs in a minute,” he murmurs softly to you. “I know this is a little sudden, but I just want to tell you that I believe we share such a close connection.”
The corners of your mouth tug into a nervous smile. How he’s touching you, how he’s looking at you, it’s as if he’s about to kiss you… Your gaze roams over his features, committing every detail to memory.
The gentle breeze that flows through the broken windows and smashed-in doorway disturbs his poker-straight, long, black hair; how his blue eyes sparkle and his handsome lips curl into an irresistible, charming smile.
“Forgive me if this is too soon…” he starts to lead you backwards until he presses you against a wall, sporting several gaping holes in the plasterboard panels. “I just can’t resist telling you how beautiful you are,” he leans in towards you, making your breath falter. “So, young…” his fingers brush against your cheek, “so soft.”
“Who knew you were such a romantic?” you giggle slightly, if not feeling a little taken aback.
A smirk flits across his face. “I have my moments. Especially with someone as special as you.” The fingers against your cheek move to brush some loose hair from your face as his eyes lock onto yours. “I think I would like to kiss you,” he whispers suggestively.
Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you tilt your head up to look at him properly. “I think I would like that very much…” you reply, suddenly feeling incredibly brave and flirty.
“Hmmm…” he hums in delight as he leans even closer, his lips brush against yours, teasing you.
You feel his hand remain in your hair, keeping it free from your face as his tempting mouth hovers over yours.
“Close your eyes, pretty girl. I want you to enjoy everything this moment has to offer…” His whisper calms your beating heart slightly, his soothing tone offers you comforting guidance.
Michael tenderly presses his lips against yours, making you melt and relax. Your eyelids flutter shut, as you return his kiss.
Air from his nose brushes against your cheek as your intimate moment deepens. This day can’t possibly end on a higher note. You have never met a more handsome man and you find out he is very much into you too.
His lips break the kiss, moving along your jawline, pressing against your skin tenderly along the way to your neck. A soft moan escapes from you, his talented mouth sending shivers down your spine, awakening your core.
Michael’s kisses now reach your sensitive neck as his hands pull you closer, his need for you becoming more apparent. “You sound beautiful, my dear…” he murmurs against your skin. “So responsive…” he plants another kiss. “So sweet…” he breathes in deeply. “You smell… divine…”
You feel his lips press more firmly against your neck as he groans with urgent need. The sensation takes your breath away, never has a man kissed you like this, you can practically feel his desire emanating from him as he delivers an even stronger kiss.
“Mmm… Michael…” you mumble softly as though you’re in a dreamlike state, lost to the pleasure he’s treating you to.
Soon, you feel his teeth graze your skin, taking the heat up a notch, making you gasp as you clutch his clothing. You don’t know how much more you can take without feeling tempted to have him ravage you there and then. Your mind begins to wonder how easily you’ll be heard from outside the building if Michael decides to take it further.
A sharp, scratching sensation burns across your neck, making your jaw drop, and not in a good way. “Ahh - Michael, too much…” you mutter with a wince, but your words do not stop him.
A deep groan fills the air as his jaw tightens, digging his teeth further into you. Your mouth opens wider to scream, but you hear no sound. For a brief moment your senses are dulled until Michael releases the tension in his jaw slightly. Your hand rises from his clothing, up to the side of his face where you expect to feel soft, smooth skin and silky black hair. Instead, you feel uneven, bumpy skin, making your eyes snap open wide. “What the-” turning your head a little, your gaze lands on someone not looking even remotely like Michael. Those handsome features, replaced with the appearance of some kind of humanoid beast. His soft, smooth and youthful skin, now mottled and burned; the sparkling blue eyes, shifted to an intense, angry-red.
Tinnitus fills your ears as adrenaline pumps wildly around your body, pushing that sickening feeling away for a moment.
To add to the confusion of what’s happening, you hear heavy, hasty footsteps on the wooden flooring before something close to an oversized bat-wing extends between you and whatever that thing is. It violently shunts the beast backwards, crashing him into the wall behind him and withdraws, revealing what you consider a towering giant.
Silence falls in the house for just a moment as you take several hasty deep breaths, desperately trying not to be sick.
Clumps of plaster from the wall tumble to the floor as movement stirs deep within it. Long, spindly fingers grip the edges of the gaping hole as the creature starts to heave itself out.
The newcomer unexpectedly grips your wrist and tugs you behind him.
“Ahh… Miguel… Of all the days you could have turned up, why did it have to be today?” a dark, raspy voice hisses through his jagged, bloody jaws as he emerges from the wall, staggering slightly. “I was just about to have a meal of a lifetime.” Similar but damaged-looking wings sprout from behind the beast’s back in a slow but threatening manner.
A million questions and feelings rush through your mind as you try to process what’s just happened. Where did Michael go? Or is that beast Michael? Who’s Miguel? The guy who stopped that thing from biting you? He was biting you, right? Like a vampire… Vampires are real?! What in the fucking hell is going on?!
A large, protective hand hovers in front of you, gesturing for you to move back. “Leave. Find my bike and wait for me,” a dark voice orders you, coming from the giant in front.
Despite feeling utterly terrified, you cannot tear your eyes away from the drama unfolding inside the abandoned building, and to top it all off, you start to feel something hot, trickling down your neck…
“You’re not biting anyone else, Morbius,” the man - who you presume is Miguel - now speaks to the creature.
A deep chuckle reverberates from the man Miguel called Morbius. “You can’t protect everyone, Miguel,” he pauses as he takes a step closer to the both of you, causing Miguel to check behind himself again.
“You’re still here! Get out!” he barks at you before his large wings flare rapidly out of thin air, spreading wide and sweeping you clean off your feet, making you land in an ungraceful heap where the front door should be.
Nothing can be said or done to take you out of your stunned state, your heart is in your mouth as your limbs refuse to move.
Without wasting any more time, Miguel runs - no, shifts? Streaks? Whatever - he rushes forward at a supernatural speed, crashing into Morbius. Wings from both men splay and clash together before the taller of the two shunts the other into another wall, creating an even bigger hole than the last.
The whole house shakes and creaks as Morbius bounces back with a heavy retaliation, delivering a sickening punch to Miguel’s jaw, generating a crunch that unpleasantly twists your stomach. Whirling mist and vast, flapping wings fills the room, as the mere image of these two beasts blur at superhuman speed, brawling like nothing else you have ever seen on this earth. Their red eyes glow, claws protrude from their fingertips as fangs extend in this skirmish from hell.
If they are vampires, you begin to ask yourself how does one vampire kill another? Should you fashion some kind of wooden stake to give to your rescuer? You look around the piles of trash surrounding you. Nothing but plastic bags, broken bottles, empty cans and discarded takeout boxes. Clearly someone has been squatting here at some point, but had no wood to use, or had to face a vampire…
Another loud crash brings your attention back to the situation unravelling before you. Morbius is wrenched up from the floor in Miguel’s grip, hanging limply and looking slightly dazed. Your rescuer’s eyes roam over you before narrowing with annoyance, his fist raised, waiting to strike. “Por dios, don’t you listen?!” he growls before spreading his wings wide open. The impressively sized appendages beat downwards suddenly, lifting them both up, crashing through the ceiling and disappearing from view.
Grunts, bangs, thundering footsteps and smashing glass are all sounds that travel from the floor above as the scrap continues, but considering the way Morbius looked before being taken upstairs, you suspect the fight isn’t going to last much longer.
Before you get to your feet, a deafening crash shakes the building once more as something smashes into the floorboards on the ground floor.
Collapsed in a motionless heap is Morbius’ body, hidden from view by his damaged wings curling around him. Clouds of dust swirl in the air before settling in a new spot on the now uneven flooring.
Miguel drops down through the hole and lands in front of you, stowing his bat-like wings away. “I thought I told you to get out and find my bike outside…” he growls darkly at you, looking less than impressed.
(artwork courtesy of @smileyrhi717)
“Vampires… y-you’re… vampires are real?” you splutter as your hand pinches your arm to test if you’re dreaming.
A tired sigh leaves Miguel’s lips. “Right -, you’re still stuck on the vampire bit… I’ll give you a second…” he grumbles as you finally take in his features.
The first thing you are drawn to is his eyes. Despite glowing with a hot, red colour, they look sad and troubled, while the rest of his expression is currently a picture of irritation and quite possibly contempt.
His cheekbones… In fact his whole facial structure is simply beautiful- no…you’re not falling for that again.
After a brief moment, you finally re-discover your voice. “Can you please explain to me what the hell just happened?” you ask, sounding stressed, your voice in a slightly higher pitch than normal. That is when you notice the adrenaline coursing through your veins diminishing, and your entire body begins to shake after realising you have quite possibly just escaped death.
Miguel opens his mouth to speak, but a deep groan comes from the heap that is Morbius, making him glance back at his foe; the movement exposing a red, spider-shaped tattoo on his neck to you.
“Shit,” he hisses before looking back at you. “No time…”
Before you even know it, he’s gripping your arm and pulling you out of the building.
“He- he’s not dead?” you stutter as you pass over the threshold.
“Move now, ask questions later.”
“But-“
“Vamos!” (Let's go!)
The both of you hear claws scratching on the wooden floorboards inside as you guess Morbius has woken up and is on the move again.
Miguel’s tight grip around your arm pulls you harder, making you hurry down the steps onto the street. That’s when your gaze lands on a concerned-looking Miles, sitting on the back of a motorbike.
“Dude, what happened in there- woah!”
Your rescuer grabs the kid too and yanks him off his vehicle. “No time to start the bike, just run!”
The sound of rushed scrabbling is heard now at the entrance to the building, before a pair of menacing, glowing red eyes pierce the darkness within making your blood run cold in fright and panic.
You feel Miguel push you forward. “Go! That way!” he points to Las Sombras and for once you don’t stop to ask questions. Instinctively, you take Miles’ arm and pull him with you, as you both break into a run. Giving a final glance backwards, you and Miles notice your rescuer hanging back to hold off Morbius.
“That’s him! He attacked me!” the young man gasps in shock as he pulls at your arm.
The pair of vampires begin their second brawl, but this time, out in the street, which is empty - thankfully. Vicious claws slash at Miguel’s jacket, ripping and tearing through the black leather.
Grabbing Morbius’ arms, your rescuer pulls him close and drives a hard knee into his foe’s stomach. The beast choked out a guttural wretch.
As you run, you see a familiar woman step out of the nightclub. She turns towards you both as she hears running footsteps before spotting the drama behind you. She beckons at you. “Get in! Go, go, go!” she holds the door open and ushers you inside before following close behind you.
Your already fried senses are now overwhelmed by the loud, thumping music and countless people talking, laughing and dancing all at once. You just about notice Lyla rush behind the bar and crouch down, hastily searching for something.
Leaning over, you see she has pulled up a loose floorboard and taken out a crossbow.
You double-take.
Watching in awe, you observe Lyla load something like a silver bolt into it and hoists herself back over the bar before opening the front doors again.
The brave woman focuses on Morbius, aiming the weapon at him, her finger hovering over the trigger.
During their scuffle, Miguel catches a glimpse of his business partner standing at the doors of Las Sombras, hoping to take a shot. This could end things if she hits him just right. Nearly everything they have been worrying about would be over - if her aim is true…
Morbius has been weak for nearly two centuries. Miguel should have finished him off when he had the chance. If he knew the things he knows now, he would have put an end to the beast swiftly all those years ago, with no hesitation.
Powerful wings thrash, lifting them both into the air. Morbius’ fists beat at Miguel in a furious fashion in an attempt to break free, forcing his opponent to hold him at arm's length.
Irritation rises within the beast, frustration that his lacking strength is impeding his fight. He curses the fact Miguel intervened at the time he did. You smelled and tasted so sweet, so appetising, you would have helped him regain some energy and he would have stood a far better chance now.
Lyla watches the two vampires suspended in the cold evening air. She hesitates, her finger hovering over the trigger pulls away slightly. Miguel may have managed to hold Morbius still, but if she fires now, she risks hitting her business partner.
“Now, Lyla! What are you waiting for?!” he shouts impatiently, as he dodges a kick from his opponent, before raising a fist and striking him back, popping Morbius’ jaw out of place with another painful sounding crunch.
“I can’t! I could hit you!”
Morbius turns his hairless head to look behind him, his red eyes widening as his gaze lands on Miguel’s partner, particularly what she has in her hands. Instantly, he wriggles frantically in his foe’s grasp; lashing out furiously, scratching, punching and kicking.
Miguel tuts; he has to make a tricky call. Keeping hold of Morbius means he can’t get away, but he risks his own safety if Lyla misses her target. If he breaks away and drops his foe to the ground, then he risks losing him, putting innocents in danger if he escapes…
He grits his teeth with the rising pressure to make a decision. His wings beat harder, taking them even higher. Drawing Morbius close, he growls into his ear. “You will be stopped.”
With all his might, he throws his enemy down to the ground, separating the both of them. The old, weak vampire collides with terra-firma, knocking the wind out of him.
“Now!” Miguel yells at Lyla with urgency once more - it won’t take long for Morbius to get back up again, even in his weakened state.
With a keen eye, Lyla followed her target to the ground before wrapping her finger back around the trigger. And with her partner’s word, she releases the bolt, letting it soar through the air.
Using his vampiric speed, Morbius raises his wing to protect himself. Screams sounding like a wounded animal ring out in the street as the silver projectile lodges into the forearm of his bat-like appendage. The sound of sizzling accompanies Morbius’ pained yells as the shiny metal burns whatever part of a vampire it touches.
“Shit!” Lyla curses with frustration. She hit him, but not in a more effective place.
Swooping down to his business partner, Miguel’s wings return to their normal state. “It’s bought us time at least. Get inside,” he barks as he starts to usher Lyla through the door.
Before entering Las Sombras, he takes one last look at Morbius, but to his disappointment, he sees the remnants of black mist. No doubt his enemy has fled to go lick his wounds…
You watch with your mouth agape as Miguel returns to the nightclub, then your gaze snaps to Lyla. “He is your business partner?” you speak loudly, to compete with the blaring music.
The vampire looks between you and Lyla, his jaw now dropping slightly. “Don’t tell me, you’re the damn Daily Bugle journalist…” he hisses with annoyance as he rests his hands on his narrow hips. His once neat and tidy appearance now reduced to looking dishevelled and ripped to shreds.
It’s as if a huge mallet has struck you on the head. Surprises keep coming like they’re on a constant conveyor belt, dishing them out one by one.
It’s all starting to make sense. Lyla’s business partner does most of the night work at the bar because he’s busy sleeping during the day. However, the fact that vampires are indeed real alone is enough to make your head spin.
“But he’s a va-” Miguel’s hand shoots out and covers your mouth, muffling the end of your sentence.
“Wanna shout that out a little louder, hmm?” he growls threateningly as his eyes dart to the people in the club.
You have had enough of being touched this evening and you slap his hand away from your face. “Don’t touch me!” you snarl.
“Maybe we should get them both to the shelter, Miguel? Before we get unwanted attention?” Lyla offers to try and quell the rising tension in the small group.
Your gaze falls onto a shell-shocked Miles, the kid who has been missing, but before you get to say or do anything, Miguel begins to usher you and the young man behind the bar, while Lyla follows.
The thudding music is far less intense in the private rooms behind the bar, giving your pounding head a break. As you’re led by Miguel through a narrow corridor, you notice him turning his head to look at you occasionally, making you feel uneasy.
“What?” you ask, your tone sounding sharper than you intended.
His eyes flit away from you after your challenge, he clears his throat. “Nothing…” he grumbles but you know that’s a lie.
You’re taken to a dead end of a corridor, facing a bookcase, full of files for the business. Before you ask what is going on, Miguel grabs the edge of the large structure, swinging it open, he reveals a secret passage leading downstairs.
“What the hell is this?” you ask, unable to mask your surprise and rising suspicion.
Miguel rests a heavy hand on your shoulder, before directing you down the flight of stairs. “A place where you will get your answers…” he explains gruffly.
The hidden passage is dimly lit, you watch your step as you hear the others behind you. Your mind runs wild with what you could possibly find down there, you sincerely hope your doom isn’t it.
Eventually the passage opens up into an abandoned subway station that has been partitioned and equipped with furniture. Sofas are arranged in a communal social-like area, surrounding a coffee table. Slightly tattered and frayed rugs are strewn around on the old tiled floors.
Your jaw drops in shock as you see other people down there, young people. Counting them up quickly, you realise they are the five other missing kids around the city. “Oh my God…” you mutter. At least they’re not dead...
The others filter in behind as Miguel levels with you, his intense, ruby gaze roaming over you. Lyla, on the other hand, gently takes Miles’ arm and leads him to the other kids.
“Fire away… I’m sure you have a million-and-one questions.”
He is right, you do indeed have countless questions burning in your noisy mind. Your first thought was to ask about Michael, but the missing kids and young adults are your current focus. “Why haven’t you returned them home?” you ask in a way without sounding like he has abducted them.
Those sad eyes of his lower to the ground as he sighs. “Wish I could…” he begins with a hopeless shrug. “But… they’re like me now. Imagine being Miles, returning home, explaining he’s been turned to his parents. Not an easy conversation to have, is it?” his gaze rises back up to you. “It also keeps the rest of us safe. Humans… get antsy if they begin dealing with things they don’t understand. They feel threatened, they spread misinformation and they attack,” he answers, carrying a hint of venom in his voice.
“But Lyla knows-”
“And I trust her with my life,” he retorts, as his eyes darts to his business partner momentarily before looking back at you.
“So, what? You just keep these kids here?” you ask, gesturing to the surrounding area.
Miguel shrugs. “Yes. It’s safe for them here. They have access to everything they need, food, a roof over their head, safety and counselling,” his last word makes you tilt your head in a questioning manner.
“Counselling?”
Miguel’s eyes narrow slightly. “Their whole world has changed. Their plans for the future are now non-existent. You think anyone can just take that and move on like that’s nothing?” His words suddenly feel like a punch to the gut, making your eyes widen as you realise what those kids like Miles have gone through. You feel sick at the thought of what that beast did to you, and remembering what Miguel said back in the house, you’re led to believe that that thing is responsible for what happened to the missing people.
“Michael… he-”
“Had you hook, line and sinker,” Miguel finishes your sentence, putting words in your mouth. If you weren’t in such a state of shock, you would shoot him an indignant glare. He isn’t wrong though. Michael did have you fooled.
“H-how?” you stammer as you hold back the feeling of embarrassment and sorrow over the loss of something you thought was real. “How did he make himself look different?”
The moody vampire considers your question for a moment, his expression softening just a touch as he witnesses your struggle. “He will have used some of his power to change how people perceive him,” he answers as he pulls up a chair and motions for you to sit. “Long black hair, pale, blue eyes?” he asks as he, too, takes a seat on another chair he drags towards you.
You have no words while your heart feels impossibly heavy. All you can do is nod to answer his question.
“That’s what he was like before…” he stops himself as hesitation washes over his face.
The abrupt halt in his words makes you look up at him. “Before, what?”
He sighs, his shoulders slumping as he returns your gaze. “A story for later?” Miguel suggests, “it’s not important now.”
Your eyes roam over his face and figure for a moment. “So… is that what you look like too, underneath all… this?” you ask, gesturing to himself.
His eyebrows raise at your question as a smile threatens to flit across his lips. “You think I’m also altering how you perceive me?” he asks as you watch him warily.
“In case you didn’t realise, I’m having a bit of trouble trusting anyone right now…”
Miguel chuckles deeply at your comment. “Well, you didn’t have a problem earlier, did you? Just goes to show you can’t trust any handsome face,” he says, another dig at you. “No, I’m not using any powers. This is all me.”
Every one of his digs at you makes you want to smack his stupid, beautiful face, but you refrain yourself. “Why is he doing this? What’s his goal here?”
“Ahh, you’re asking the good questions now,” he says, standing up again, resting his hands on his hips as he begins to pace. “He’s weak, and he’s doing reckless things to try and cure himself,” Miguel starts his explanation. “Morbius thinks that young blood will refresh his infected body. And, as for what he was about to do to you? That was just simply being greedy.”
Without even thinking about it, your hand rises up to where Michael had bitten you, the skin in the affected area still sore, sensitive and bloody. Air hisses through your clenched jaws as the bite stings, the sudden noise, making Miguel look at you.
“Here,” he says as he approaches you, “let’s take a look,” his hand reaches out for your arm, not giving you any room to say no. For a moment, you feel weightless as he pulls you up to standing. His soft hands gently brush aside your hair, bringing back the haunting memory of Michael doing the same, making you shudder at the thought. You don’t know when the memory of his deformed appearance will leave your mind; but you hope it will be soon.
Leaning in closer, Miguel observes the bite on your neck. “It’ll need cleaning-” he begins, before you hear him sniff, like he’s catching your scent.
Looking up at him as he towers over you, you notice his red eyes are glowing again. The slight tip of his tongue slips between his parted lips before it leisurely caresses one of his razor-sharp fangs.
“Uh - no,” you say sharply, pulling away from him, wrenching your wrist out of his grasp. “Don’t even think about it.”
Miguel snaps out of his momentary daze and shakes his head. To try and take his mind away from you, he clears his throat and looks out for Lyla. Once he gets her attention, he calls her over and asks her to clean you up. In that time, you notice the red in his eyes dim again.
As your bite-mark is attended to, Miguel watches you from afar, arms folded while he thinks to himself. In the background, you hear the kids and young adults talk amongst themselves.
Your gaze wanders over Miguel as Lyla gently presses a bandage against your neck. “I should probably go…” but you soon realise what you have just said was the wrong thing to say. Both Lyla and Miguel react in a way you were not expecting.
“No!” they both exclaim at the same time, making your eyes flit between the both of them.
“You want to leave? While a vampire who thinks you’re a walking banquet is on the loose in the dead of night?” he asks as he unfolds his arms and steps closer to you. “You’re safer here.”
Lyla nods in agreement with her business partner. “If you leave now, you won’t get home alive,” she adds to Miguel’s case.
You look at your surroundings. Are they seriously suggesting you stay with them, and sleep amongst vampires? The look on your face must have reflected what crossed your mind as Lyla rests a hand on your shoulder.
“You will be safe here,” she begins as she gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Despite how this place looks, it’s actually quite comfortable - once you get used to gloominess and the odd rumble from passing trains in nearby tunnels…”
Miguel rolls his eyes and tuts. “Way to sell it, Lyla…” his business partner lets go of your shoulder and frowns at him.
“I’m just saying there is a difference between what she considers her regular comfortable living conditions versus what we have here…”
The giant vampire opens his mouth to retaliate, but you wade in. “Fine! I’ll stay… But where am I actually sleeping? If I can sleep, that is…”
Both Miguel and Lyla look at you again but he speaks first. “Lyla; set up a comfortable, private place for her to sleep. Then you can finish for the day,” after he speaks, he brushes between both you and his business partner and strides back up towards the nightclub.
In what you suspect is an old ticket office, Lyla covers a large mattress on the floor with several mismatched sheets and cushions. You get the impression they were all pulled from the shelves from a shop in bulk; bought for function and necessity more than aesthetics.
“You weren’t kidding when you said your partner was a moody guy…” you comment as you help Lyla set up your sleeping space.
A sigh leaves Lyla’s lips as she smoothes over the material of the sheets. “He’s had a tough life. Poor guy can’t seem to catch a break,” she replies as she stands and pulls a phone charging cable out of her pocket and hands it to you.
Taking the cable, you begin to thread it between your fingers as you contemplate asking your next question. In the end, you decide to go ahead. “How did he become a vampire?”
Picking up a bundle of blankets from a bag, Lyla places them down on your bed so you can stay warm at night. “It’s probably best if you ask him. It isn’t really my story to tell,” the woman answers before giving a slightly awkward smile and makes a move to leave the room, but you stop her.
“He said he trusts you with his life. Do you trust him back?”
Lyla’s eyes meet yours before she opens her mouth to speak, her expression earnest. “We may bicker, I might piss him off from time to time, but it is without a doubt that I trust that man,” she replies, but she observes the suspicion in your eyes. You feel her hand on your shoulder again as she continues. “Morbius is a treacherous bastard. I don’t know what he did to you, but whatever he did, you’re right to not feel very trusting at the moment. Hopefully over time you’ll feel you can put your faith in Miguel,” her hand gives you a gentle pat. “Just give him time to warm up to you, just like you need time to adjust to things that have happened.”
You give Lyla a silent nod and a weak smile as she leaves the room before you turn to look at your new make-shift bedroom.
With a dull thud, you collapse onto the mattress, arms and legs splayed out while you try to process everything. You could kick yourself over how easily you trusted Michael. An angry huff leaves your lips; Miguel’s harsh words - ‘hook, line and sinker’ - circles tauntingly in your mind. You bet he thinks you a fool… maybe he’s right… With a groan full of embarrassment you roll over and bury your head in your arms. In the darkness, Michael’s glowing red eyes pierce through, staring into your soul, haunting you still while you are out of his reach.
It dawns on you that after meeting Michael that morning, the answer to your investigations was right under your nose. It is all because of him, that missing kids have been feasting on rat’s blood for sustenance. It astonishes you how the lead you got from a member of the public this morning has sent you spiralling into a story you cannot yet fathom how deep it goes. Imagine the glory of unveiling the world of vampirism to Nueva York…
You lift your head up from your arms, your lips parted as you consider this amazing opportunity for work. This is groundbreaking stuff; news that’ll rock the city. Or… your mouth closes… you’ll be carted off to some asylum for writing something totally insane and unbelievable…
Sitting up on your mattress, you look through your partially open door, your sympathetic gaze lands on the kids huddled together, talking and bonding with Miles in the communal social area. If you pursue your story, your bid to reveal the truth, you would be doing them a disservice. Not to mention Miguel would be beyond mad.
Lying back on the bed like a starfish once more, you let out a contemplative sigh. You are going to have to abandon the developing story and write about something else… But for the time being, you close your eyes to try and get some sleep.
Sitting in the office behind the bar of Las Sombras, music pounds through the walls, sending rhythmic shockwaves through Miguel’s body with every beat. His leather jacket sits in his hands, his thumb running over one of the many rips in the material, courtesy of Morbius… Tossing his ruined item of clothing in the bin, he reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls his phone out. Opening a contact, he begins to text them.
He waits a short while before he gets a reply. The phone buzzes in his large palm.
Finally, Miguel places his phone on his desk before resting his head in his hand as he props his elbow up on the table’s surface. “Mierda…”
Thank you for reading part 2 of Vampire Miguel. I hope you're enjoying it so far.
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