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Vee is for Vampires - Chapter 2

Author: @sinnysuicide AO3: SinnySioux Vamp!Ville x F!reader Wordcount: 2k + Read on AO3 here.

Chapter 2: “Burn The Hat”

What a strange evening.

I stand in the shower for an eternity, feeling every muscle in my body release its tension. My lungs fill with shower steam. I lazily turn the power off, towel dry my hair and walk sleepily to my bedroom. Once my hair is dry and I’m in my silk pyjamas, I lay back and stare at the ceiling.

As soon as I close my eyes, his green eyes force their way into my vision. His milky white skin. His pink and plump bottom lip, begging to be bitten. I cannot shake the image of him. It feels as though he is next to me, breathing the same air, close enough to kiss… I toss and turn for hours.

“This is fucking ridiculous!” I say out loud, in the darkness, disappointed at myself for my new obsession with the handsome stranger. I imagine him on top of me, my body sinking into the Egyptian cotton as he bites and sucks at my collarbone, and eventually fall asleep.

…

“Vee? What is Vee short for? Like Vincent fucking Price? I can’t BELIEVE you let him walk you home. He knows where you LIVE now. COMPLETE horror show!” rants Larissa on speakerphone as I gradually begin to lose the will to live.

I sigh heavily at her judgement. I could care less what she thinks. I consider excuses to end the call before she squeals in excitement. “Oh my god! Cute guy from the bar is calling! I gotta go!” and with a click I am alone with my thoughts.

Was it unwise to let him walk me home? I mean, he did rescue me from almost certain sexual assault. That has to count for something.

It’s a lazy Sunday. I clean my apartment, practise a bit of self care, and generally feel utterly restless. I switch on the tv for a bit of background noise.

“Today’s top story: two London men violently murdered. Police appeal for witnesses.”

I spin around on my heel and catch their faces, sure enough, the faces of my two attackers. “Fuck…” I whisper. My heart starts to race. He walked me home; I nearly invited a killer in. At the same time… surely, they deserved it? I didn’t see Vee use a weapon? Maybe they were drunk and choked on their own vomit? Maybe he didn’t mean to kill them?

“Oh god!” it dawns on me; what if I was an accomplice?! This is bad. I need to speak to him; to corroborate our story. How the fuck am I going to find him again? I spend an hour pacing my apartment, thinking about how to find him and talk to him. I decide on driving back to the bar, and looking for him around there. Maybe he would be looking for me too. I try to ignore the voice in my head telling me I am insane and going to get hurt.

I put on a pair of black skinny jeans and a simple black crop top. I need to make a bit of an effort in case I decide to go inside any bars. I put on a matt dark red lipstick and pop it in my clutch purse. I grab my car keys and speed out of the apartment complex.

I sit in the bar car park, uncomfortably close to an array of flowers left on the ground for the two pieces of shit who tried to hurt me. I wonder if the public would be so generous if they knew the type of men they were. I tap my steering wheel nervously, biting the inside of my lip. I sit listening to my favourite band, AFI, allowing the screams of Davey Havok to settle me.

An hour passes, it’s now 9pm. I feel utterly stupid. What are the chances of finding him, really? This is an utter waste of time. I turn the key in the ignition, when suddenly I notice a shadow in my rearview mirror. I turn the engine, and the music, off and listen. I see a man in a flat cap and… are those converse allstars? I swear Vee wore those the other night. I quietly exit my car and stealthily watch him. He chuckles, wiping what looks like blood (?!) from his lip and trudges forward. His balance is off, as though he’s been drinking far too much. Suddenly, he stops and looks up.

“You?” he laughs “Looking for trouble?” He ambles forward as I bite my lip, searching my brain for something witty to say.

“Looks like I found it”, I say, matter of factly, my chin raised to feign confidence. He closes the distance between us with a stride and looks down at me; his eyes that same glittery green, sparkling with curiosity and interest. His gaze drifts down to my lips and my heart starts to quicken. A smile makes his way across his lips as he tilts his head back to take all of me in. His teeth flash white in the dimly lit space.

“What did we say about walking around in the dark, hmm?”, he muses, “Vampires!” his eyes widen and he giggles.

I breathe him in. He smells woody, with a distinct smell of whisky. I think about licking whisky from his skin before I remind myself of the task at hand. “Vee… you killed those guys” I whisper, solemnly.

“Who? Oh, the pigs who tried to touch you against your will? Are you not relieved?” It is hard to argue with this logic.

“I, er, well… yes, but… I’d rather not get arrested for being an accomplice to murder!” I stumble through my words, wondering dismally why the fuck I bothered.

He leans back against my car and laughs wholeheartedly. “Shh, Vee, this is not funny!” I say, exasperated, but also trying not to laugh. He is adorable when drunk. Is this the same man who killed two men the other night? He stumbles and I grab his arm to keep him upright.

“Dammit, Vee, get in the car. I’m taking you home.” I roll my eyes as I open my door and get in.

He giggles again “Will you protect me from vampires? Garlic doesn’t work, just so that you’re aware!” He manages to get in without injuring himself and I sit beside him. I have a killer in my car: now fucking what?

“Okay, um, where do you live?” I ask, unsure if this is a good idea.

“Bloodlust Tower” he answers, unwavering.

“What??” I hiss, a little scared now.

“Beaufort Tower” he replies, grabbing my phone, “Let me type the postcode into your route planner”. I hook my phone to the speaker and my last played song starts again. Type O Negative’s Black No.1 begins to play, and I quickly turn it down, self conscious.

“You like Type O? Not just a beautiful face then!” he exclaims, turning the volume up. I blush furiously and try to maintain my composure as I set off on the 90 minute journey.

“Oh, uh, yeah… I love alternative music but I’m going through a gothic phase at the moment. I guess the sadder the music, the more beautiful it is… to me, at least”. I instantly regret the overshare but Vee leans in, placing a hand on my knee.

“I feel the same. It’s nice that you get it” he sighs, leaning back into his seat, “Music is my safe space. Whenever things get heavy, my guitar is always there for me”. He looks wistful.

“Oh… you play guitar?” I ask, imagining how on Earth this man could be any more attractive to me right now.

“Oh, yeah, um… I used to play professionally, in a band, we toured all over the world but, uh, yeah… that’s over now” he says, solemnly.

“You’ll have to play me something” I say, breaking my driving concentration to look at him and give him an earnest and encouraging smile. I’m certain I see him blush; though it’s hard to tell as he is so pale.

“So… what is Vee short for? Because I’m sure it isn’t Vampire” I laugh.

“What makes you so certain?” He implores.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe just the knowledge that no good mother would name their child fucking Vampire!” he laughs heartily and I join in; the conversation flows and our connection feels so natural.

“It’s, Veel-uh, spelt V-I-L-L-E. It’s, um, it’s Finnish”. So he ISN’T English, I knew it!

“Wow, I’d love to visit Finland. Have you ever seen the northern lights? I can’t imagine anything more beautiful” I sigh.

“I can” he whispers, I look over and we lock eyes for a moment. Oh god, is he flirting? I suddenly feel hot; I need to change the subject.

“So, um, should we talk about the dead guys?” I say, sheepishly.

“Why?” mutters Ville “They’re dead”. I don’t see how he doesn’t think this is a problem.

“Ville…” he takes a sharp intake of breath as his name rolls off my tongue. I pretend not to notice. “I’m scared of being arrested and thrown in prison for a crime I didn’t commit, and I… I guess I’m scared for you too.” I can feel his eyes on me.

“You have nothing to fear, neither of us will be going to prison. Just trust me, okay?” I sigh.

“Okay, okay, I won’t bring it up again.” He smiles.

“Good… because I want to talk about you.” he smirks.

We talk about our tastes in music and find quite a lot of overlap. Ville loves Type O Negative, obviously, and is a total fangirl for Black Sabbath. He tells me he met my favourite band, AFI, at some award show. I half smile because I don’t believe him.

“So you grew up here?” He asks.

“Yeah, not London, but in England. I wish I could say I’ve travelled lots but I really haven’t. I’d love to quit work, travel around Europe….”

“Why don’t you?” he interjects.

“Money” I say honestly “Can’t say I have a sugar daddy, unfortunately” I smirk.

“What about your family? Parents?” asks Ville.

I pause, my heart heavy, “I, er, they died when I was six”.

Stunned, he whispers “I’m so sorry”.

I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “Don’t be, I barely remember it” I smile dishonestly. “I think we’re here?” I pull into a large and long gravelled driveway; there are tall black ornate gates. Did I take a wrong turn? There is a keypad for entry.

Ville leans over. “Six six six”, he says.

“Seriously?!” I roll my eyes and type in the code, and drive right in. I pull up outside a grand stately home. It’s dark, and how I long to see it in the light. There is a small fountain out front. I imagine how beautiful this could be in the warm sun.

Ville gets out of the car and walks around the back “Oh, um, you’re really fucking welcome” I mutter, before he opens my door and offers me his hand. “Very gentlemanly” I giggle, taking his hand “Thanks.” I climb out of the car and shut the door. I look up at the tall building in wonderment.

“Are you coming?” Demands Ville, palm outstretched. I take his hand and follow him inside. The hallway is illuminated by a large glass chandelier. I spy a plush dark red velvet chaise longue, a matching soft rug, black candelabras. The mood is dark but romantic.

“Vee is definitely for vampires” I whisper; as Ville laughs out loud.

“Am I that transparent?” he asks.

“I don’t know, let’s ask your gothic decor, shall we?” I smirk, teasing him. I have no idea what the fuck I am doing following a dangerous man into his remote home, but I must admit that part of me would be just fine if he murdered me on the chaise longue by candlelight.

He starts to climb the large wooden staircase, carpeted with - you guessed it - a dark red velvet runner down the middle. Ville turns back and looks at me “Come.” He demands.

My heart sinks. “Ville, I don’t know what kind of woman you think I am but-“

“I owe you a song”, his face softens as he interjects, his lips part, his eyes plead.

“Okay” I say, warily. He takes my hand and leads me upstairs. There are beautiful oil paintings leading up the stair case. Night scenes, moons, woodland creatures on canvas. He is definitely a night owl, in love with all things dark, and I can’t help but find it endearing.

He reaches his large pale hands, adorned with pewter rings, in front of him and thrusts them into two tall wooden double doors. It’s so dark, I blink several times to acclimatise to the void in front of me. Ville reaches in his pocket and moves around the room, clicking his lighter. In a moment, the room is illuminated by beautiful black candlesticks. The walls are red, of course they are. Another chaise longue. A beautiful double mirrored vintage black wardrobe. In front of me is a huge four poster bed. The ornate wood is black, the sheets are what look like dark red silk. Everything about this room is elegant, but I can’t shake the air of loneliness that lingers within the walls.

“Take a seat, my darling” he purrs, and walks to the corner of the room. He removes his blazer jacket, throwing it to the ground. He’s wearing a black vest, his luscious milky skin glowing in contrast. I notice the swirling pattern of thorns down one arm; a beautiful intricate tattoo sleeve. I perch on the chaise longue, fearing that lying on his bed would send the wrong message. I’m not about to sleep with him at the drop of a hat, no matter how attractive he is. He grabs an acoustic guitar from one of several stands: he has quite the collection, and walks towards me.

He stops a couple metres from me and sits down cross legged. He tunes his guitar whilst my eyes wander. I realise he’s removed the hat and he has the most beautiful darkened curls of hair. I imagine running my hands through them as his face is buried in my… Christ, I need to get a grip. All of a sudden he begins to play;

“You can't escape the wrath of my heart

Beating to your funeral song

All faith is lust for hell regained

And love dust in the hands of shame

Let me bleed you this song of my heart deformed

Lead you along this path in the dark

Where I belong until I feel your warmth

Hold me like you held on to life

When all fears came alive and entombed me

Love me like you loved the sun

Scorching the blood in my vampire heart

I'll be the thorns in every rose

You've been sent by hope

I am the nightmare waking you up

From the dream of a dream of love

Let me weep you this poem as heaven's gates close

Paint you my soul scarred and alone

Waiting for your kiss to take me back home

Hold me like you held on to life

When all fears came alive and entombed me

Love me like you loved the sun

Scorching the blood in my vampire heart”

As he sings, I feel his pain. He closes his eyes and bares his soul. He has a deep voice when he speaks, but when he sings his range is amplified. The hairs on my neck stand on end and my skin tingles. I just want to hold him; to comfort him.

“Ville… that was…” I am breathless “that was beautiful.” He looks up and smiles wistfully at me. Spontaneously, I stand and walk over to him. I kneel in front of him and wrap my arms around him. His back is stiff and strong beneath my palms. The smell of whiskey still lingering. He does not move. My fingertips reach up to caress the curls at the back of his head and I bury my face in his neck. “Ville… who hurt you?” My voice breaking; his body softens and his large hands make their way around my back.

He nuzzles into my neck and sighs deeply. Whispering, he says “I have been lonely for so, so long. I have spent years holding on to the faintest hope that love would find me…” I tense my arms to hold him tighter and he begins to pull away.

His hands grasp my shoulders lightly. He pulls away from my neck to look into my eyes. His face is a mere inch from mine. His beautiful green eyes searching mine for something. “Who ARE you?” he implores.

I blush “What do you mean?”

His eyes drop to my lips. “Where have you been, baby?” I stop breathing. The world stands still. His lips crash into mine.

Our lips move together as he tilts his head. I feel him run his tongue lightly between my lips, begging for entry. I open my mouth to take a small breath and his tongue claims mine. Lapping, massaging, caressing my tongue with his. His hands on my back become heavier as he pulls me toward him; removing the small gap between our bodies. My knees find themselves either side of Ville’s waist as I straddle his lap. I run my fingers through his hair, pulling, teasing. Suddenly, Ville breaks the kiss “I can’t!” he pleads, looking torn.

“W-what?” I whisper, dejected.

“You deserve more than this, a sober man for starters. You are far too good for me-“ I silence him with my index finger on his lips.

“Shh” I soothe him “You are enough; don’t try to convince me - or anyone - that you are less.” I kiss his forehead lovingly and he lets out a contented sigh.

Again, he whispers “Where have you been, baby? I wanted you for so long”. He looks into my eyes with yearning. “I’ve been here, waiting for you. Only you, Ville.”

His bright eyes and smile light the darkness around us. “Let’s not do this on the floor” smirks Ville as he pulls me to stand and walks me to the foot of his enormous bed. My hand begins to shake in his as my anxiety makes itself known to him. Ville strokes his hand up and down my arm as comfort; “I’m not expecting anything at all. I just want you to feel comfortable”. We sit on the edge of the bed and he cups my face with his pale hands, and kisses me sweetly. I kick off my boots and shuffle up the bed. He follows suit and we lie, arms wrapped around each other, exploring our mouths with our tongues.

My fingers wrapping around his curls, he giggles. “You like the hair, huh?” He asks.

“Mmm” I reply “Burn the hat”; he smiles into our kiss.

I lean back to look at him. His eye lashes are longer than I realised up close. There are tiny wrinkles either side of his eyes from smiling and laughing. He has a slight stubble and soft, plump, pink lips; a bright white grin and beautiful emerald green irises. My fingers travel the thorn sleeve from his wrist to his elbow. He shivers and closes his eyes. “What?” I smile.

“You” he replies “Your touch, your skin…” he signs as his eyes wander “I am demonstrating excellent self restraint right now”. He grins wickedly.

“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Please, baby” he sighs “I’m trying to be a gentleman”.

We spend hours talking about our hopes, our dreams, touching, giggling, kissing. He promises to take me to Finland; and to play me a song every morning on his guitar. He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to him, nuzzling into the back of my neck, and we fall asleep in each others arms.

…

I have never slept so well in my life. I roll over to find Ville on his back, still sleeping. It’s still so dark in his room but I can see a strip of white light around the black out curtains. It must be morning. I gently sneak out of bed to grab my purse and find my phone. I have a couple of hours before work, so I have a half hour or so to snuggle with Ville. I crawl into bed on all fours, trying to wake Ville with light kisses on his forehead, temples, cheeks.

“Wow, you sleep like the dead!” I mutter. I place my palm on his shoulder and shake him gently. “Wake up, I have work soon” I purr. I dial the sensuality up a notch and start to lick and nip at his neck. He jolts and his limbs stiffen. I trail the tip of my tongue from his neck, up and around his jawline, until I reach his bottom lip. I nip it slightly with my teeth and he grabs both of my wrists and swiftly twists himself on top of me.

His eyes are not green, but dark. He kisses me deeply, but I sense something is off. He’s silent, he’s rough… something is not right.

“Ville… stop!”. He grabs my jaw with his hand and forces it aside. He moves to my neck and bites down. I feel his sharp teeth and scream.

He jolts back, as if woken from a dream. His eyes are light green and wide; his mouth crimson with my blood “Oh god… FUCK… I am so sorry!” He loosens his grip and I scramble from the bed, grabbing my heels and my purse.

I am trembling and crying and running through the darkness. HOW is his home this dark?!? I reach the front door and hear him running down the staircase. “Please! I’m sorry! Let me explain!” My legs threaten to give way underneath me as I hesitate, part of me wanting to give him a chance. My neck hurts and I place pressure on it. I move my hand in front of me and gasp at the bloody mess on my fingertips. He reaches a hand towards me and I shove my hip into the door with full force. It swings open and the sunlight bears down on his arm; I watch his pallid skin sizzle and smoke in the bright light. He screams in pain and falls backward and I run to my car. I pull the door open, fling my belongings into the passenger seat and lock the doors. The adrenaline pumping through my body, I drive fast towards the large ornate gates. I type in 666 and speed away from this nightmare, a flurry of tears raining across my steering wheel and my lap. I hear myself sobbing but I persevere until I am home.

I rush into my flat, lock the door and fall to the floor; I cry and cry until I am empty. I step into the bathroom and observe the damage. Two puncture wounds on my neck. Just when I am sure I have no tears left, I begin to cry again. I cleanse the wound and flinch at the sting. I bandage myself up the best that I can, lie face down on my bed, and sob until I pass out.

AO3: SinnySioux; more to come 🦇

Graphics by saradika-graphics

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thexhostess · 2 days

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Vee is for Vampires - Chapter 1

Author: @sinnysuicide AO3: SinnySioux Vamp!Ville x F!reader Warnings: This story will be 18+ as there will be smut in later chapters. Wordcount: 2k + Read chapter 1 on AO3 here.

Droplets drizzle down from the wide gin cocktail glass in front of me. The cool drink raining condensation in the warm but dimly lit bar, down a cobbled side street in the city. It was always my favourite; the way there were so many flavours of vodka, gin and rum on the neon-lit back wall. A gem in the grey and polluted big smoke.

Larissa is halfway through a story about some guy she met and dated briefly. I sense there is a big twist coming but I lost interest a while ago; not least because her love life is far more exciting than mine. Part of me envies her, she has no trouble attracting interest, still part of me pities her for entertaining London’s least eligible bachelors.

“He offered to drive me home and I was like… erm, dude, you had like half a bottle of Jack, and he was like ‘No I didn’t!’. Then I was like ‘I literally watched you and now you want to fucking kill me by drink driving?’ and he walked out. Like, literally walked out of the bar, angry at ME for not wanting to DIE! Like, what the fuck?”. She takes a sip of her ridiculous fluorescent pink vodka based cocktail to lubricate her throat, dry from her monologue, “And I’m pretty sure he just got in the car and drove himSELF home. Like, is he dead now? Hope so, idiot.”

“Wow, that sounds crazy”, I manage to stifle a yawn somewhat successfully, but my mildly slurred speech gives me away.

“You stopped listening like a year ago, didn’t you?”

My eyes dart up to meet her gaze, worried I’ve upset her. “Oh no, I have, I’m sorry, it’s just work is, y’know, work, and I’ve just been so tired…”

She glances at her phone. “Fuck it’s eleven thirty! We better wrap up, actually”. We split our drink bill and each order our respective Ubers. I give her a hug and wave her off in hers. “Let me know when you get back!” she yells out of the window.

I wait 10 minutes… 20 minutes… “This is ridiculous” I mutter to myself. I could’ve walked it back to my flat by now. I glance down at my phone to see that my Uber driver is completing a journey before he plans on driving to me. Fucking great. I tap my stiletto heel on the cobbles; my impatience vibrating through my body as I shiver in the darkness.

“Fuck this!” I declare, and set off on foot. Google Maps tells me I’m eighteen minutes away, and the cocktails have numbed the pain in the balls of my feet from my ridiculous choice of footwear. ‘They DO make my legs look great, though’ I think to myself as I scroll social media absent-mindedly. The back streets are so poorly lit that I use the torch light from my phone. I hear the clink of empty cans hitting cobbles and the shuffling of feet… I walk more briskly. I hear men whispering and look over my shoulder. I see two, very drunk, men walking in my direction. I sincerely hope they are not following me, and quicken my pace.

“Oi bitch, don’t ignore me!” they start to chase me. The light of the main street is so fucking close and my heart is beating out of my chest. I turn a corner and lean against the building, breathing noiselessly but desperately. Fuck, they’ve spotted me.

“Where ya going dressed like that, ya slut?” says a balding, pink, hideous shell of a man. The other throws his head back to laugh. “Bet she was on her way to get her five pounds for a blowie!” he says, making lewd gestures. I want to have the confidence to say “Fuck you!” out loud instead of in my head, but the best I can mutter is “Please…”. The balding one puts his hand down the front of his jeans and I close my eyes as tears track down my cheeks.

“UGGHH… what the fuck man?” I hear the sound of punches being thrown and tentatively open my eyes. A dark figure, decidedly tall, slim, draws back as the balding man chokes on blood and falls to the floor to join his friend. My mouth agape in horror and wonderment, the figure spins on his heel to face me and moves forward. My breath quickens and my eyes widen, my chest heaving as my back is pressed against brick.

“Are you hurt?” his eyes stare straight into my soul. It’s dark but they are light; I can make out specks of green. His skin is so pale it glows in the moonlight. My eyes follow his sharp cheekbones to his jaw, taking in his handsome face. I scan his body. He’s wearing what looks to be a velvet blazer, skinny jeans, converse all stars? The contrast of the white on black is actually quite appreciated in this light.

“Miss?” My eyes dart back up again. “I… uh… I’m okay” I manage to speak quietly. His eyes are so mesmerising in this light.

“Those pigs didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“No”, I smile, “Thanks to you”. His concerned demeanour turns to fury and his brows narrow. “You shouldn’t be alone in the dark this late; there are people that can and WILL take advantage of a woman travelling alone.” I’m grateful for his chivalry, but I don’t take too well to being told what to do.

“I… uh… yeah, so thanks for knocking those guys out”, I say, avoiding eye contact and slinking to the right of him, “I’m just gonna go and…”

“No” he says, his sharp eyes sensitive to my movement. His face softens “I’m sorry, no, I can’t let you do that when there are men out there like this. Please, let me walk you home, or at least close to it…”

“Oh, um, you don’t have to…” I hesitate.

“Please” he closes the gap between us with a single step “I’d like to make sure no further harm befalls you tonight”. He doesn’t talk like the typical London man. Hell, he doesn’t talk like the typical man. His voice deep and alluring; his words eloquent and decisive.

“Oh, um, okay” I say, in a vain attempt to silence the inner voice that is SCREAMING at me to tread cautiously.

We walk a little in silence, a foot or so apart. “So, what were you doing walking all alone in the dark?” he implores, scanning my face as we perambulate onto a better, brighter lit, street. I can see I was right as two beautiful pools of green await an answer from me.

“My Uber driver was taking forever so I thought I’d walk home. It isn’t far. I wasn’t expecting two drunk idiots to ruin my night.” I roll my eyes.

“Have they? Ruined your night, I mean….” he looks disappointed, or perhaps angry, I think, as I notice a balled fist.

“Well, no, I guess I’m safe and nothing really happened… you, uh, you don’t speak like you’re from here”.

“I’m not” he says matter of factly with an essence of smug, he pauses to locate a cigarette from his pocket and to light it. He brings it to his pale lips and inhales. His lips part delicately as the swirl of smoke dances around his cheeks. He closes his eyes briefly; it appears his vice brings him bliss in the chaos. “I’m sorry” he stares at me “Do you mind if I…?”

“Oh, no, no it’s fine. Your funeral, I guess, I heard those things kill you” I smirk, teasing.

He side-eyes me, inhaling again “Good thing I’m already dead” he exhales with a grin. Fuck, he looks so good when he smiles. The flash of his white teeth and the angles of his jaw make me feel moist in my underwear, but then I remember I’ve been drinking.

“How much alcohol have you had to drink?” he asks, smirking, as if able to read my less than holy thoughts.

“Touché” I say, rolling my eyes, “Enough, I guess, and I’m more than capable of walking the rest of the w-“ his fingers close around my wrist suddenly and I turn to face him. His lips are dangerously close to mine and I can feel my heart beating furiously on the walls of my chest. The adrenaline in my body is sending signals that I should run, my logic tells me I can’t outrun him and my mind? My mind is hesitant but intrigued. Why has this dark handsome stranger stopped to help me? Why is he walking me home? I realise I can no longer hear the click clacking of my stiletto heels against London’s cobbles; I no longer hear the bustling of the street. I see, and hear, only him.

He looks down at my lips. “I’m sorry if I have offended you. Please, let me get you home safe, and you won’t see me again”. My heart sinks a little and I’m sure he can feel it.

“Why did you help me? Who are you?” I ask, feeling a strange connection between us.

“I couldn’t have lived with myself if I turned a blind eye to a woman in distress, and allowed those poor excuses for men to do what they had in mind.” His looks darken, and I turn to humour as we begin walking again.

“Oh, you read minds? How many fingers behind my back?” I giggle, wiggling three secretly. He side eyes me again, smirking. I can tell he’s not impressed that I am minimising my brush with danger, but he is enjoying this playful exchange.

“You should be careful wandering around in the dark” he stops and turns his body to face me, wetting his lips with his tongue, he edges closer, “There might be vampires”.

“Oh, that would be a shame” I say, deliberately avoiding his gaze before the punchline “I taste pretty good, I’d be a goner”. I look up at him through my lashes; he finally gives up the ghost and laughs wholeheartedly.

“Why do I get the feeling trouble follows you?” He shakes his head, smiling, “For your sake, I hope the vampires aren’t thirsty.” We stopped walking some time ago, and I realise we’re outside the block of apartments I live in. I loiter, to stop time, not knowing when I will see my night hero again.

“Are you thirsty? … for a drink, I mean.” I glance towards my window, hopefully.

“I, er, no… I should return to my post. I have damsels in distress to save from bloodthirsty beings.” he muses, with a tone of humour, not arrogance. He looks off into the distance and I sense there is something heavy weighing on his chest.

“Well, thank you, my unmasked nicotine-fuelled vigilante!” I giggle, walking to the entrance door. He follows me, as though he wants to come inside, then hesitates. Turning to face him I realise our lips are centimetres apart again. Every hair on my body stands on end as my senses hyperfocus on him. I lift my hand to palm his velvet-encased arm. The material is soft, a direct contrast to the muscle within it. I breathe, and almost taste, the cigarette smoke from his lips. I see never ending waves of green, washing over me. Eyes that look like they have traveled the world over and over again, but haven’t found what they longed for… until…

“What do I call you?” I whisper.

“Vee” he says as his eyes refuse to move from my lips.

You could cut the sexual tension with a knife.

He leans forward to press his forehead to mine as I let out a sigh. “No more late night walks. Remember, vampires.” His hand lifts to my cheek, cold but inviting, and I close my eyes.

In a moment, he is gone. I stand under the twinkling starry night sky wondering if it had all been a dream. I touch the cheek that felt his hand and smile. “Hey, Vee stands for vampires!” I yell into the dark, and I swear I hear chuckling. I open the entrance door and click clack up the stairs to my apartment, wondering what Larissa would make of all this.

…

AO3: SinnySioux; more to come 🦇

Graphics by saradika-graphics

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