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cherryplasmids · 4 years

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☆ a healthy new start ☆

pairing: johnny ‘coco’ cruz x reader fandom: mayans m.c — season 2-ish prompt: it’s time you and Coco take an important step in your relationship. notes: WOW! first fic of the decade. let me know if you like. i’m a bit rusty so the ending is a bit shit. and yes, i now write for the mayans. also, i know coco doesn’t live in an apartment, but bear with me.

—check out my other works; masterlist

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

In the distance, the motorcycle rumble echoes throughout the neighborhood. You take this as a signal to grab your glass of water and go outside. As the motorcycle nears, getting louder, you take a seat on the porch steps. The beautiful arctic blue Harley stops right in front of your house with the silver rims shimmering in the moonlight. Ever since the Mayans started working with Galindo, more money started pouring into the M.C. Coco and the others took it upon themselves to splurge on their bikes. It's easily the best investment any of the members ever made.

Coco shuts the bike off while taking his helmet off and then hops off. He looks up and you smile at him. It's always nice to see him. He walks up to your front gate and waits, fidgeting a bit. Your smile drops and you sigh.

"You waiting for an invitation?" You call out loud enough for him to hear. You know he is, though. He always is. Even though you've been dating Coco for 8 months, Coco never stepped on your property without permission. It used to be endearing. Now, it's downright frustrating. As if he’s not comfortable enough to call this home. "Come on, baby."

He uses that as permission and pushes your broken gate open. He's promised to fix that gate for over two weeks but Galindo and the M.C keep him busy. Although he constantly apologizes, you don't rush him.

You never rush him.

"You know," you say as he sits next to you and lights up a cigarette. "you don't always need an invitation." He inhales his cigarette and shrugs. You sigh again and drink some water.

There's silence, but it's not uncomfortable. It is, however, a bit tense. Coco can be difficult to read sometimes. You don't know whether he wants to talk or not and you know he definitely will not offer any information without you asking. But you've had a long day and trying to find any emotional response from him is not on your agenda for the night. So, you sit there, letting the cool Santo Padre air ease your headache.

After some time passes, Coco puts out his cigarette. "You not talking to me?" He doesn't look at you when he asks. It's something he does, you notice. As if he's afraid that you'll tell him something hurtful and you'll be able to see how much it hurts him. ‘The eyes are the window to the soul’, he once told you. Angel made fun of him, but you could tell Coco genuinely believes that.

"Had a long day. I just want to relax."

He hums and pulls out his phone, the screen lights up with a photo of you and Letty in the background throwing water balloons at each other. It makes you smile fondly. You bet Coco never opens his phone around his brothers. He mumbles the time, noting that it's nearing midnight. Around this time, he always leaves.

He makes a move to get up. "I gotta go. Letty's home." You grab onto his arm.

"Hey, baby?" He looks at you. "Do you mind staying a bit? I have to talk to you about something."

His eyes shine with fear and it makes you hate the wording you used. But when you smile at him to ease the fear, he relents and gets comfortable beside you. Again, he looks away.

"You know how Letty is constantly over at my house for everything?" You wait for him to nod before continuing. "Well, I talked to her the other day and she went on a 15-minute rant about how much she hates your apartment. The halls stink of sewage, the walls are too thin, the toilet barely works, her room is too small, and there's plenty of more complaints trust and believe me." You laugh a bit, remembering how red in the face Letty got after she heard the next-door neighbor have sex for ‘8 hours straight’. You know Letty exaggerated most of her complaints to gain sympathy, but some of them did hold. There's a mixture of mildew and mold all over the apartment building and the plumbing system is atrocious. The fact that his apartment didn't even have a full bath system is also horrible. There's no way Letty and Coco could live together in such an ass area. Their relationship would just get worst before getting better.

Coco laughs with you, knowing just how dramatic Letty can get. "She ain't wrong."

"No, she isn't." And now, you were getting nervous. After spending over a month writing up the pros and cons of such a gigantic, important decision, you were ready to make a grand step in your life and relationship with both Coco and Letty. In the end, the only cons would be falling in love with Coco even more and wanting to be Letty's constant, supportive, and loving figure within her life.

Those aren't even real cons. They just make you extremely nervous because you're ready for these steps. But are they?

Despite the overwhelming nervousness bubbling at your core, you continue. You shuffle closer to him, with your knees touching his own and lean on him. Santo Padre's cool air can't even compete with Coco's warmth.

"I thought about those issues months before Letty even brought them up. I know living in those conditions isn't healthy and I know that better than most people. You might not think this impacts your relationship with Letty but it does. She doesn't come home because she's miserable there. And I know you are too. That's why you always visit me before going to that nasty apartment."

"So you don't want me here anymore?" His tone has an edge to it and you sigh.

"No, baby. That's the opposite of what I want." His head tilts down to look at you, his eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not trying to implement myself in your relationship with Letty. I'm not trying to be something I'm not. I just," You pause for a moment and take a deep breath. "I just think you and Letty deserve a better life. And maybe...just maybe that better life is with me."

You dig into your right jean pocket until you feel the warm metal in your hand. You give a shy smile when you discretely pass it into his hands. Looking down, he opens his hand to see a house key resting in his palm. His eyes widen for a moment before he looks away completely.

One of the hardest possibilities you could go through would be Coco rejecting the idea. After all, he only just got Letty. His mom couldn't be the woman Letty needed and to have some other woman enter his life, trying to push her way into her life is something you knew Coco would hate. Their lives are already fucked up. No need for someone to make it worse. Although you tried to prepare yourself for possible heartbreak beforehand, nothing could prepare you for the actual moment itself.

The pure anxiety is eating at you, gnawing at your heart and crawling up to your throat. Coco twirls the key in his hand while you're dying from anticipation.

"Coco," You start, unable to handle the intense moment. "I'm sorry, it's stupid. I know you wouldn't— "

"Do you mean it?" He looks up at you, unshed tears in his eyes. Your breath catches, unused to Coco showing such pure, raw emotion. All you could do is nod. "Say it."

"Johnny," You breath out "Will you and Leticia move in with me? In this house?"

Quickly, he leans into you, mouth hot against your own. Just like that, all the anxiousness disappears. He works on your lips a few seconds more before parting and resting his forehead against your own.

He whispers your name, his voice wavering as he continues. "Are you sure? You want all this toxic bullshit?"

"Everything you touch is gold, baby. You just need a little push to see that. So does Letty." He whispers your name again before pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.

After that, Coco constantly kisses you or hugs you with tears and happiness in his eyes. Eventually, he does leave to be with Letty and tell her the good news. You don't know exactly what the future holds, but you do know that you want Coco and Letty to be there every step of the way.

────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

word count: 1,404 published: march 11, 2020 edited: n/a

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darklydeliciousdesires · 1 year

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*✊🏾knock👊🏾 ✊🏾knock👊🏾*

you may want to consider changing the locks cause I'm getting far too comfortable with the unannounced pop by.

and like all "overstayed their welcome house guests" I have demands a request

Number 17 with EZ. No, Bishop. No, Happy. No, Manny.

actually you've been such a generous host, you pick, whoever you like, I wouldn't want to put you out after all 🤣🤣🤣 *sorry sarcasm is my first language but I'm serious about those locks, I'm no good at subtle hints, send me packing whenever.

Babe, at this point in the house of DDD, you have your own little reading nook, furnished with snacks and drinks of your choice! You will never be unwelcome around here! Apologies that this took me about 900 years to get around to, life is busy, my friend! I hope you enjoy it, though :)

Slight smut below the cut, minors DNI!

"Oh, what was that I heard? A needy little whine, hmm?"

"Please, Manny."

A baleful rumble echoes his throat, his chuckle deeper in pitch than that of a tiger's low growl of warning, and ten times more predatory. "Y'all really saying please to me now, after I told you not to behave like a brat?"

Another little whine escapes your lips, Manny smirking at your chagrin, leaning forward in his seat, the chair creaking. He reaches for you, fingers hooking beneath the intricate bindings of the bondage rope he has to bound with, your arms lashed behind your back, the tight constriction fuelling your arousal. As he knew it would.

Looking down at where his cock fills the front of his jeans, he then lifts his head, watching your eyes take it in, hungry for the hardness you know he shan't be unleashing and putting anywhere near you yet. You won't feel him fill you where you're wet and needy, and it's torture. The sweetest kind.

"Dying for it, aren't you, brat?"

"I am."

He grins, looking down at his leg, dark eyes flitting back to yours, blinking slowly, the sight of his long, dark lashes fluttering a display of divine beauty. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.” His hand grips the rope, pulling you down astride it, the denim coarse against your soft folds. "Look like someone's gon' be grinding herself there, don't it?"

You nod.

"Oh, and by the way," he begins in a breathy whisper, his lips planting a single, soft kiss against your throat, his hold on your bindings tightening, "you aren't allowed to look away, not even once."

#manny mayans mc fanfiction #manny mayans mc x female reader #manny mayans mc smut #manny mayans mc #manny montana #manny montana fanfiction #manny montana x female reader #manny montana imagine #manny montana smut #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc smut #mayans mc fanfictio #ddd drabble requests

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darklydeliciousdesires · 1 year

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Runaway - Chapter Nine.

Happy Friday, besties! Awww, it makes me so happy to see you all enjoying this, it really does. I love to create something that gets people talking, and thank you so much for investing in it :) If you want to go slower with the notes over the weekend to get to 30 then go for it, completely up to you, as ever :) Now, back to the story. You all get to meet Manny’s grandpa. Something tells me you’re going to like Ed...

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 2,288

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“You fucking what?”

Oh yes. There went the sound barrier. And his eardrums.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. This is a shock, I know it is, I know,” he began, his fiancée amping up to irate within a blink.

“How could you do this to me!”

“It happened before I met you, Carmen,” he revealed, attempting to placate her.

“And how do you know she’s yours, huh? This bitch could be just passing her off as yours, could have had any number of dicks all up in her and she’s trying to pin it on you!” His eyebrows knitted at that.

“Hannah isn’t a bitch. She’s a nice girl who I ended up having a one-night stand with. Trust me, I believe her when she says she knows I’m the father. The only other guy it could have been didn’t match on a paternity test. Plus, you ain’t seen the kid. She’s my double. Ain’t no doubt over her parentage, mi dulce. She’s mine.”

“And so, what now? What does this mean, going forward? She sticking you for child support, huh?” Money. Of course, that would be at the forefront of her mind. It always was. “We have a wedding to pay for, you know!”

Manny took a breath, opening the fridge and pulling a beer out, twisting the cap off before swinging the door shut and leaning back against it. “She didn’t mention anything about child support, but I will be contributing. Ain’t no question there. That don’t mean you go without anything, though. I make good bank, you know that.”

Despite the fact she was being selfish and thinking of herself first in all of this, Manny was, as ever, understanding, selfless as he was. At that moment, Carmen was of course tits deep in the world according to bride, not wanting anything to get in the way of her special day. He wouldn’t let it either, he loved her, after all. At the same time, though, he would not welch on a commitment to his own blood.

“I’m going for a bath.” She tore a path through the kitchen, out towards the bathroom, the door slamming shut. He couldn’t help but note that she hadn’t even asked him, not once, how he was coping with the news. It was all about how it affected her.

‘I’m mindful of what I just dropped on you, and it matters to me, that you’re alright with it.’

Hannah’s concern came back to him immediately, wanting to make sure he was okay after her life changing revelation. The difference was not lost on him. He sighed, pulling his phone out, scrolling through to the pictures he’d taken, pictures of his baby, ones Hannah had taken of him holding her, too, smiling widely. Oh, she was so beautiful, such a precious little thing.

“As if I made something as fucking perfect as you, Lola Lydia Gray,” he beamed, his thumb stroking her image. “Shit, I’m a dad. I’m someone’s dad.”

It was there that his thoughts went to his own father, Manny’s mouth thinning as he moved to go and sit down in the lounge. Manuel Santiago Snr had walked out on him, his mother and two sisters when he was five, the family moving back to his mother’s home of La Paz County, Arizona, to live with a considerably better father figure; his grandfather, Ed.

Edward Ellison was a formidable force, half Apache, half white, and one hundred percent no nonsense. A rancher all his life, working fourteen hours a day, come rain or shine, producing some of the best, if not the best beef cattle in Arizona, breeding horses as well as a lucrative second income. A tough life for a tough man. He had perhaps the kindest heart Manny had ever encountered for his family and friends, but still, there was no doubting his mettle.

He sat and remembered the first time he’d ever put him on a horse as a six-year-old kid. Not a pony, oh no. A fully grown quarter horse. ‘The boy needs to learn if he’s gon’ drive cattle in’ he’d explained, when his mom had pitched somewhat of a fit about seeing her little boy sitting up on a huge steed led by her father, Manny’s feet barely reaching the bottom of the saddle flaps. He had got him something a little more suitable once he did learn, though, a little dappled grey horse of just over fourteen hands in height named Chester.

Driving cattle was exactly what Manny had done, too, until he was twenty-four, spending eight years working the same hard job. It was rewarding, but he couldn’t continue, meeting a girl who lived over in Yuma and leaving to join her down there. His relationship with Corrine hadn’t lasted, but the outlaw life he’d fallen into had.

She’d been the daughter of one of the members of the Yuma charter of the MC, hence how he got involved in it all in the first place. He missed the ranch sometimes, but definitely not the 4am starts of a morning. Thinking of his grandpa, Manny knew he was the first person he wanted to reveal the news to.

“Hey mijo, hold on. He’s in the kitchen, doing something to the coffee machine,” his grandmother, Rosita spoke, the words ‘I’m trying to fix the godforsaken thing, Rosie!’ muttered from his grandpa, Ed taking the phone.

“You’re calling late.”

Manny checked the time on his phone. “It’s 8:06pm, gramps.”

“That’s late for me, you know I go to bed at eight thirty.” It was true, he did. In bed by eight thirty and out of it by 4am, even still at seventy-one years old.

He couldn’t help but be smart. “Well then we have just over twenty minutes, don’t we?”

“Fucking kids and their sass,” Ed muttered, Manny laughing. “So, how are you?”

“I’m great, gramps, really good. I had some news today, and you’re the first person I wanted to tell. I’m a dad.”

Ed stood much taller than his 6ft 2 height at hearing that, a smile lighting up his still handsome features. “You and Carmen ain’t wasting any time, huh? Congratulations, son. When’s she due?”

“Um, that’s the thing. Baby is here already, twelve weeks old, and not Carmen’s.” He waited for it; the no doubt comically delivered reaction.

“You been philandering in some other woman’s honey pot, boy?” He didn’t disappoint, his grandson hissing softly with laughter.

“Yep, but this was before I met Carmen,” he explained, Ed snorting.

“You were cutting that finer than a flea’s nut sack hair!”

Manny was in hysterics at his words, sipping his beer. “I met her two months after I was with Hannah, that’s my baby mama, by the way. Well, I wasn’t really with her, more of a one-night thing.”

Ed sighed, coughing as he let himself out of the back door, looking out over his vast property as he sat down in the porch chair. “Still no fan of condoms, then?”

“Nope,” Manny confessed, knowing it was bad. HPV had made him finally learn his lesson, though.

“Cesspool,” Ed grunted. “I’m surprised your dick ain’t dropped off yet.” He rummaged in his pocket, taking out one of his slim cigars and lighting up. “So, what kind is my first great grandbaby? Pink or blue?” His comment sparked a memory of the time his grandmother had bought him a new shirt, one he’d refused to wear in his stubbornness, all because it had a trace of dark pink in the plaid, Manny laughing softly through his nose at how rigid his grandpa could be over such simple things as colours.

“Pink, her name’s Lola,” Manny revealed proudly. “Hold on, I’ll send you a picture.”

“Alright, I’ll put you on the speaker phone so I can talk and look.” Manny accessed his pictures on a message, clicking a few and sending them through. A few seconds passed before Ed’s phone pinged, and then a couple more before he spoke again. “Aw, hell. Would you look at that little face. She’s a peach, boy. Damn, she looks the double of your mama when she was a baby. When you bringing her here so granny and I can meet her?”

“I dunno. I only found out today, so let me settle into a routine of things with Hannah first and I’ll see.”

Ed made a ‘umhm’ noise, taking a drag on his cigar. “You told your mama yet?”

“Nah, I’m working up to that. I kinda guess she’s gon’ scream at me.” Truly an understatement if ever there was one.

“Well, of course she will. She inherited her mother’s lungs, if nothing else. How about Carmen, is she good about it all?”

Manny sniffed, finishing his beer, rising from the couch to go and fetch another. “Not really, but I’m guessing she needs time to get used to the idea.”

“Hmm.” Ed’s tone was non-comital, choosing not to voice the truth that he wasn’t surprised at all. He didn’t care for Carmen one bit. ‘That girl, she’s bougee and self-centred. Ain’t what he needs’ he’d said to his darling Rosita after meeting her for the first time. “Yeah, I guess she’ll come round to it, eventually.” Instead of being his usual, mildly abrasive, truth spewing self, he chose diplomacy. His grandson had enough to think about, without him throwing in his two cents.

Manny said he’d call again soon, Ed telling him he’d relay the news to his grandma before getting off, leaving him to make the phone call he was carrying a certain amount of mild dread over.

“You fathered a child with a woman who isn’t the one you’re marrying? For the love of god, Manuel! How could you be so reckless? Poor Carmen! This must be breaking her heart, and who is this woman you got pregnant in the first place? Is she an ex-girlfriend? Please don’t tell me it’s that little whore from the dry cleaners, I couldn’t stand her and...”

“Mom, breathe,” he interjected with.

“It’s her, isn’t it? It’s that girl! Oh my god, I need a drink! I mean, did I not always tell you to fucking use contraception? You’re thirty-nine, for heaven’s sake, and...”

“Mom, I’m sending you a picture.”

“...I’d like to think that you’re at the age where you’d kno-OH MY GOD! She’s so beautiful!”

He knew that would shut her up.

“Ain’t she? Her name’s Lola, and no, she isn’t Esther’s. Her mom is a girl named Hannah, she’s really nice, you’ll like her,” he explained, hearing his mother virtually whimpering with joy on the other end of the line.

“How old is she?”

“What, Hannah or bubs?”

Val sighed audibly. “The baby! As long as this Hannah girl is over eighteen then It's all good.”

“Oh yeah, well over. She’s fifty-two.”

“Manny!”

He laughed hard, never able to resist winding the key in his mother’s back and watching her go. “I’m just playing, calm down! She’s twelve weeks, well, a little under actually. And Hannah is thirty-eight.”

“So, when can I meet her?”

He told her the same thing he had his grandpa, his mom understanding and asking him to please send more photographs in the meantime. They chatted a little more before ending the call, just as Carmen was exiting the bathroom, swathed in towels and still looking sour. “You have a nice bath, mamas?”

No reply.

“Baby, come on. Can we just sit down and talk about this calmly?” he tried with again.

“Fuck you!”

He winced at her ire, shaking his head as the lounge door slammed shut, picking up the remote and turning the TV on, wishing he wasn’t already four beers in so he could head back to the clubhouse and hang out. He’d come home early at Carmen’s request so he could spend some time with her, but now that idea was shot to shit entirely. He got it, why she was mad, but he couldn’t help it. A baby didn’t come with a return to sender option. Besides, he wouldn’t want her to. He was thrilled at becoming a father; he just hoped his fiancée would land on the same page sooner rather than later.

It was a few days before she seemed to settle a little more, but he knew she was still pretty sour over the whole thing.

“Hey yo, come look at this,” he called to Lily and Jodie a few days later, he and Carmen hanging out at the clubhouse, Angel and EZ’s wives approaching to look at the picture he showed them.

“Awwwww! Look her smile!” Jodie gushed, bouncing on the spot, grasping her hands to her own heavily pregnant belly, Lily reading the message that accompanied it.

“Hey daddy, look how happy I am that I just spit up all over the seventh romper mommy put me in today. Can’t wait to see you on Friday and puke all over you, too! Love Lola. Oh, that’s so sweet!”

“I know, right? She always sends a little message like it’s from the baby. Imma ruin my street cred thinking that shit is adorable, but I don’t give a fuck,” he laughed.

“You shouldn’t! She’s your first born, it’s an exciting time for you,” Jodie enthused, rubbing his arm affectionately. Carmen was within earshot, snorting and throwing herself down from the barstool, stomping out of the clubhouse. “Something I said?”

“Naw, baby girl. She’s just having a time of it, adjusting to the fact.” he replied, Jodie nodding sagely. She’d expected as much, but what Manny didn’t expect was to get blasted about it as soon as they walked through the front door upon their arrival home a few hours on.

Carmen, it seemed, was not done being pissed off about it just yet.

#manny mayans mc #manny mayans mc fanfiction #manny mayans mc imagine #manny mayans mc smut #manny mayans mc x ofc #manny montana #manny montana fanfiction #manny montana imagine #manny montana smut #manny montana x ofc #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfictio #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc smut #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

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From Blood, Love and Courage - Chapter Nineteen.

So, guys. We’re almost at the end of the story, the next chapter seeing us to the close. I’ve really enjoyed writing this and want to thank you all for your devotion to engaging with it :) you make it worth the effort. 30 notes will be to unlock the last part!

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen

Words - 4,560

Tag list - In the comments, please message to be added/removed

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“Cage!”

“Yes, that’s your cage.”

“Charlie cage!”

“Uh huh.”

“Asshole!”

Taza snorted with laughter, shaking his head and feeding the bird another dried raisin. “You’re still not fond of Hank then, huh?” He was taking five minutes to breathe, after lugging boxes all morning into Angel and Lily’s new abode, a mere three weeks after they’d found it. The landlady had said she’d wanted someone in the property as soon as possible, Angel making that happen by paying an extra month on his former residence, Lily’s too in lieu of giving more reasonable notice, meaning the amazing three-bedroom home they’d found had become theirs with the kind of speed he was seeking it to. He needed something to keep her mind off the whole Johnny Boswell debacle, Lily becoming very frustrated over the fact her vengeance upon him would be delayed in the coming.

“Glasses!” Charlie chirped, ambling close.

“No, stop that.” he scolded, jerking his head away from the beak that came into his peripheral vision, the bird obsessed as ever with his eyewear. Following Angel and Hank inside, he watched them place the cage down over in the corner, where Lily had designated for it to be put, the lady herself currently making another trip from her apartment, Jodie following in her car, both of the vehicles once again loaded to the brim. “Go on in there, then.” He spoke, opening the cage and crouching slightly for Charlie to scamper off.

“No!”

“Charlie,” Angel warned, pointing. “Don’t you be sassy!”

“Fuck you!”

“Hey, don’t you make me use your government name, get in the damned cage.”

Taza couldn’t help but laugh.

“Charlie Horacio Armstrong, get in there, now!” Angel pointed, raising his eyebrows. “I ain’t playing, homeslice.”

“Charlie’s a good boy.” Off he hopped, Taza shutting him in, the bird looking around before beginning to preen himself.

“He’s been mad about it all morning,” Angel spoke, lifting his black vest up and wiping his clammy face on it. “He hates having his routine messed with.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t like change, do you, bird?” He received a disgruntled squark in reply, laughing softly through his nose. “Alright, what’s next?”

“Kitchen stuff.” Off they went to the van. Most of the bigger items of furniture had arrived way earlier, Angel hiring a U-Haul for that job, the couple deciding to get rid of his couch and armchair since Lily’s were newer and a little bigger, much too large for her former apartment, he’d always thought, but looked great in the lounge of their new home.

Once Lily had arrived back, she began unpacking a few bits and pieces in the kitchen, turning the fridge on (thank goodness it came with the property, as Angel’s was on the way out and hers didn’t belong to her and had stayed at the old apartment) and putting away the two boxes of beer within it she’d bought for the guys, hearing a clicking noise approaching.

“Hey Lily! Is leopard my colour? Look man, I think I pull these off!” Coco called, entering the kitchen, walking with careful, exaggerated steps, wearing a pair of her very high heeled sandals.

“Take those off!”

“Nah, chica, I like ‘em! I need a little height! Hey yo, Jodie! Toss me that!” he walked out again, Lily hearing Angel snorting with laughter, Coco then turning back to her, wearing one of her wide brimmed hats and a pair of her sunglasses. “You can’t tell me I ain’t pretty when you know damned well that I am!”

“You look ridiculous,” Angel laughed, shaking his head, giving him a playful kick up the ass, Coco’s arms flailing at high speed as he tried to regain his balance.

“Damn, how’d you girls do this? It's like being on stilts!” he exclaimed, coming back into the kitchen, Jodie coming up behind him and grabbing his hips, giving him a good dry hump.

“Yeah, that look is really doing it for me, baby,” she announced, smacking his ass for good measure, Angel, Lily and Taza falling apart completely.

“To answer your question, they don’t. They get a few hours in and complain, the shoes come off, and then you have a wailing drunk chick on your back with her shoes in one hand and her purse in the other at 2am,” Angel replied, pulling a face at Lily as she scowled. “What? You did that last Friday, both you and your little friend here complaining about numb toes, me and my brother having to carry you both to the next bar.”

Laughter abounded, but no more so than at Coco, still trying to balance, walking around bow legged, his arms wide and windmilling.

“Coco, you should probably know the last time I had those shoes on was when your friend over there was piledriving me against the bedroom door. Left some really nice heel dents in his butt cheeks, too,” Lily informed him lightly, leaning against the fridge with a raised eyebrow, Angel winking at her. That had been a fun night.

His face was aghast. “Oh god, no!” The shoes were kicked off at speed. “I’ve probably got scabies now or some shit!”

“Honey, that’s a skin disease that dogs get,” Jodie informed him, lifting a heavy bottomed casserole dish from a box and placing it down on the island.

“Exactly!” Coco shouted, walking past Angel, getting clipped around the head for it. He and Taza headed back to Angel’s old place in the van, Jodie going out to the curb when Hank called for her, EZ returned from his trip from there in the U-Haul.

“You gotta go back to your old place again?” Angel asked, draping an arm around her shoulder, Lily moving to snuggle him.

“Nope, all done and keys returned. It was a little sad, saying goodbye to it, but damn, I’m loving all this space we have now.” Their new abode was definitely a lot bigger than either was used to, about three times the size of Angel’s old place, and Lily’s old apartment could fit in the space of the new lounge and kitchen alone. It also had something else neither was used to, being a bungalow and an apartment dweller respectively; an upstairs.

It was where they moved to later that day after everyone had left, just Lily and Angel putting their new bed up, the latter cursing a hell of a lot at the screws, doing the completely standard male thing and abandoning the instructions that came with it, deciding that the black iron, four poster canopy bed wouldn’t be all too challenging. What kept him going through his annoyance was the thought of tying Lily to it. After all, that was exactly why she’d chosen it.

It had been a month since their sex life had resumed, and now almost three since her attack. She still suffered nightmares because of it, probably about two per week, but knowing that at least two of the men who had done what they did to her were dead and gone went a long way to helping her heal from it. For everything else, she had Angel. He had to remind himself sometimes, that she was still on a long road, little instances taking him by surprise when he inadvertently freaked her out.

“Oh fuck, sorry, sorry,” he apologised later that evening, while they were fetching groceries from the local market, needing a break from unpacking. He’d approached her without word, putting his hand on her shoulder, Lily throwing the box of cereal she’d been holding into the air in fright. He’d very neatly caught the Cheerio's mid-air, though, placing them into the cart, Lily steadying herself with a couple of deep breaths.

“it’s okay, I just... I get spooked out sometimes,” she lamented, feeling herself begin to calm again. Being alone was still something she wasn’t a hundred percent comfortable with where going out was concerned, her habits changed slightly. Angel now came with her to the store, she could only manage short walks to places on her own, and if she was in the house by herself, she always kept her gun close by. It was taking a while for her to iron out her issue that she was capable of looking after herself, that confidence in her ability to do just that still lacking, even with her return to training as of a week ago.

He smiled weakly, kissing her head. “I know, and I need to remember that. I think I get distracted by how well you’re doing in other respects.” It was a complex field to navigate, knowing that whereas he could hold her down by her neck and pound the living hell out of her in the middle of the bed and she’d be absolutely fine with it, if he didn’t announce his presence when walking up to her from behind, he’d likely startle her. She had her moments of finding herself again, though, and his pride grew with every one of them. Take the previous week, for instance, when overheard her giving some guy at the yard an absolute tirade over his repeated haggling with her over the price of iron, demanding to speak to a man.

‘Motherfucker, as far as you’re concerned, I am the damned man, and if you don’t want what we’re offering then feel free to pack your shit up and drive on over to the next nearest scrapyard, which is twenty miles north of here. Up to you, but I don’t have all day to deal with you and your fucking chauvinism.’ Oh yes, he’d been very proud, standing outside of the office and hearing that, grinning widely as he’d eavesdropped.

The man had then gone right out to Bishop to complain about the ‘rude woman on reception’ calling him a chauvinist and a motherfucker, Bishop smiling with amusement before telling him that maybe, he shouldn’t have treated her like a chauvinistic motherfucker if he didn’t want to be called out as one. He’d of course believed Lily’s side of it.

“What are we doing for dinner, getting something here or ordering takeout?” she asked, throwing a very large bag of oats into the cart before turning the aisle, Angel grabbing a few boxes of granola bars and placing those in, too.

Right on cue, he yawned. “I’m not down for anything that doesn’t involve opening the door, taking a box and sitting down on the couch again.”

“Pizza it is. I’m picking up ice cream while I’m here, though. I might want to let it melt on your chest later and lick it off.” The way he did a double take and rapid eyebrow raise had her in utter hysterics. It felt good, to be sexually playful with him again, since she knew he very much thrived on it. Not necessarily having ice cream eaten off him, but he loved it when she flirted with him, whether casually or covertly. Just like she did the following evening.

“Baby, you up or down?” he called, entering the house and not immediately being able to locate her.

“I’m in the mood for doing both.” Walking around from her concealed place behind the kitchen door, she revealed herself, standing there in deep red satin underwear, and a very suggestive smile.

Angel didn’t speak for a few seconds, his breath held fast, eyebrows rising. “Well, god damn.”

Her smile grew wider. “The exact reaction I was looking for.”

“Oh, sexy assed mamacita of mine,” he began, shrugging his kutte off and placing it over the arm of the chair. “That ain’t my reaction.”

She raised an eyebrow. “It isn’t?”

“Nah.” He advanced on her quickly, making her squeal. “This is my fucking reaction.” He lifted her as he ran her back into the kitchen, placing her atop the island as they enjoyed a heated exchange of kisses, hands stroking her smooth, pale skin. “Fuck, I want you so badly.” He groaned, her fingers unfastening the buttons of his dark blue denim shirt as he pulled her underwear off, her legs entwining around his waist while he freed his cock, Angel immediately sinking into her, her moan pouring from her lips to his as he bit her cupids bow, tongue snaking with hers, hands tangling in her hair. “You’re so fucking sexy, and I love you so damned much.”

Those words went right to where his cock arrowed into the silky heat of her, her hands grasping his shoulders as she panted, overcome by the pressure of him dragging her walls, the passion of him, the heat of the moment. His language of love was steeped in frequent verbal declarations, but the physical is where he thrived, Angel craving the intimacy of such almost as much as the sexual thrill, the need to ascend to the edges of heaven, and take her with him while he did.

To have that side of their relationship resumed in full swing again was exhilarating for her, to feel so wanted and desired, everything within that had been so tainted now back to blooming wildly with erotic incandescence. Shrugging himself out of his shirt and kicking off the rest of his clothes, he unfastened her bra, yanking it off and with a splayed hand to her chest, the metal of his heavy rings cool against her hot skin, kissing a blazing constellation over her tits, sucking on her nipples as he gripped her thighs, slowing his thrusts down, but daggering her hard, forcing each feral wail from her throat as she tightened around him.

“Yeah, look at you take that dick. Fuck, you look so hot.” he praised, pulling her legs over his shoulders as he watched himself sinking in and out of her, his shaft covered in the silky gloss of her arousal, the sight transfixing. He felt her flutter on him, knowing she keened for more friction, speeding back up again until she was screaming, hands clutching his forearms as her nails dug in.

“Oh my god, fuck me, ohhh!” And oh, how he did. He pounded her on the island until she came so hard, she couldn’t speak in the aftermath, his own undoing leaving him trembling pleasantly, resting his head down against her heaving chest. “Fuck, I’m so dick drunk.” she panted, Angel snorting with laughter.

“You gon’ be steaming by the end of the evening, then.” She was, too. They ate, watched a movie, shared a joint and then, Angel had her bent over the arm of the couch, pounding her vigorously,

“You’ve fucking put numbing cream on, haven’t you?” she groaned, her body trembling to orgasm number two.

“Yup” he admitted, grinning as he grasped the back of her neck, his other hand striking her butt in a hard, hard spank. “And you’re gonna lie there and love every second of taking it until you can’t walk, querida.” Keeping Lily happy; it was number one on his agenda, ever since she’d learned she would have to wait to get her revenge on the last remaining gutter dweller who had raped her.

In some ways, he was glad that her fear, sadness and trauma had given way to anger, but in others, he saw very clearly that if she focused upon it too much, it would begin to poison her. He was able to separate that within himself, bide his time, it was, after all, part of being an outlaw. He could hang onto his need for vengeance until the time was right. Lily, though? She was understandably frustrated by it, and it was slowly bleeding further into her thoughts. While he watched her make amazing progress with her recovery, he also witnessed that need to remove the very last physical factor in what had happened to her take over at times.

“Sweet pea, it’s dark, you only just got back from training, too. Come on, give it a rest for the night,” he called to her from the back door, watching her beat the hell out of the freestanding punching man she’d bought, her foot hitting the chest, shoulder and head in quick succession, spinning off her foot and landing a kick from her other leg straight into its face.

“Nah, I’m good.” Except he knew very well that she wasn’t. He wasn’t about to argue with her about it, though. At least she was venting it out, he had to concede. He was just concerned with exactly how much venting she was doing.

Coming into the office at the yard the following morning, he was trying to find Taza, wanting to pull him aside and talk with him about it, get a little perspective from his wise VP. What he found though was hilarity, courtesy of Bishop and Charlie.

“Sorry, excuse me,” Bishop spoke to the man on the other side of the counter, turning to Charlie, who was sitting on his shoulder, yelling utter nonsense. “What do you want, what?”

More nonsense.

“Snacks? You want food, alright, hold on.” He rifled around the desk, looking for his snack box, finding it and pulling out an almond. Charlie took it, and then promptly hurled it onto the floor. “Alright, your Tigger toy? Here it is, you want this?” More frantic jabbering ensured, Angel going over eventually, tapping his shoulder.

“C’mon, homie. Quit your sass.” Immediately, the bird settled, beginning to groom his beard.

“The hell was all that about?” Bishop inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“You know when Cady is overtired and goes nuts? He’s the same, gets all spicy when he doesn’t nap, don’t you?”

“Spicy!” Charlie squawked softly, shaking his head, pushing it beneath Angel’s hand when he petted him.

“I’ll get him out of here.” Bishop thanked him, Angel leaving the office. “Such a G, Charlie, with your shouting and shit.” he laughed, the bird pacified for his presence, settling as he walked over to the clubhouse, finding Taza outside, done for the day, enjoying a cold beer. He followed his eyes over to the side of EZ’s trailer, where Lily was beating the shit out his punchbag, taking the time from her lunchbreak to do so.

“It’s good to see her returning to form, isn’t it?” He gestured towards her, Lily spinning and landing a flying head kick, the bag bearing the brunt with a loud thud.

Angel scratched his beard, taking a seat beside him. “Hmm, I’m not so sure.” Taza raised an eyebrow of inquiry, reaching to ruffle Charlie’s chest feathers, the bird scampering onto his arm and walking up to his shoulder. “It’s all this shit with Johnny, having her chance to get even delayed. She’s pissed as hell about it, and I’d be lying if I said that didn’t give me concerns. I mean, is it healthy, that level of rage, where she’s training three times a damned day just to try and get it out of her? I guess at least she is letting it out, but you know what I mean.”

Taza was contemplative for a few seconds, before he cleared his throat. “Was it healthy for her to be as traumatised and frightened as she was? I’d count that as a very hard no. I think that you are perhaps being a little hypersensitive in wanting to protect her. Her emotions, she has to deal with them as they come to her.

“We’ve seen many so far since her attack, and helped her move through them as she’s learned to process, to deal with everything in the wake of it, what it left her with. We’re now at the angered, venomous stage. And we help her move through it, just like we did when she was frightened and small, when she physically clung to us for support and comfort. Once she gets her shot at him, she’ll be fine. I firmly believe she’ll be able to put it to bed once she knows we’ve put his body in an unmarked grave.”

Angel nodded, a crease still denting his brow. “That’s something else I’m kinda struggling with. He deserves it, no questions there. But her handing it to him... I dunno, man. I want her to, but I don’t at the same time. With us, we know it comes with who we are. We’re outlaws, murderers by default. I can kill someone and usually not think twice about it, same for the rest of us, but Lily? She ain’t a killer.”

“She could be, not even in this context.” He inclined his head, Angel looking over to where she rained round kicks upon the punchbag. “One of those kicks to the head with the power that girl has within her, she could easily kill someone and not even mean to, so what if she means to? You sound like you’re scared it might change her. What Johnny put her through already has. See, that’s the thing about Lily; the only constant in her life has been change, and to survive, she has to adapt to it as she sees fit. From beating down other kids who tried to bully her in group homes, to now killing her last surviving rapist, it’s what she has to do in order to adapt to, and ultimately move past the change forced upon her.”

Angel picked at his thumbnail, pulling the cigarette he had from behind his ear and lighting it, making a mental note to go buy a couple more packs. “You’re right, shit man. You are.” He shook his head, sighing, marvelling at the way Taza had such a sight for these things, how well he knew Lily, too. Then again, reading people was always his strong point. “I just gotta let her get on with it, then.”

“You do,” Taza confirmed, smiling widely when he saw Lily approaching. “Nice form, kid.”

“Thanks, I like to think the break didn’t hamper me too much,” she confirmed, leaning down to give Angel a big kiss. “I’m going to shower and get back to work.”

“I’m gonna try like fuck not to join you.”

Lily raised her eyebrows, smiling suggestively. “Don’t try too hard.” She sauntered into the clubhouse, Angel turning rapidly to look at Taza.

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Go on, I’ll look after the bird.” Angel was out of his seat in less than two seconds. Even though it was her idea, he saw it as a good way to furtherly keep her happy. Maybe if he left her blissed out enough on an orgasm, her day wouldn’t end in her going to training and then hitting her own punchbag again as soon as she arrived home. It was all about little distractions, pacifying the rage he knew kept a hold of her tightly, if she let herself think on it too much. It was also being tough with her at times, for her own good.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Lily exclaimed the following morning, Angel taking her phone from her after he’d seen what she was viewing. Johnny’s Instagram, his stories full of training videos, her face sour at witnessing him enjoying his time out in Thailand without a care in the world. He knew it stung her, of course, it did.

“Trying to stop you from making this worse on yourself,” he began, sliding her phone into the pocket of his kutte, reaching to stroke her face. “Baby, you gotta stop. It’s eating you up, probably just as much as what he did to you, too. You’ll get your chance, but until then you need to quit watching him like a hawk. You know what I’m saying makes sense.”

Her immediate thought was to yell at him, feeling as if he were treating her like a child, her face reflecting as much, until she forced herself to be thoughtful. No matter how much she didn’t like it, he was right. She was torturing herself. She began nodding. “Okay,” she breathed, resting her hands on his waist. “I see the point you’re making, I do. It’s just hard, now that I know it was him, everything swirling around inside of me.”

He was sympathetic to that. Of course, he’d suffered the same. He was better at controlling it all, though, for the final outcome. It came with being an outlaw. “I know, querida. I know. Just imagine how it’ll be when you finally do get to take him down, though. Motherfucker ain’t gonna know what’s hit him.”

Lily let him carry on that afternoon minding her phone for her, but of course there would be times over the coming weeks when he wouldn’t always be there to do such. Just like one instance the day after Lily knew Johnny would be landing on US soil again.

Angel had been out on a run for the last two days, arriving home at just gone midnight, to a sight that at first, flooded him with panic. The lounge was in semi-disarray, the kitchen even worse after he’d carefully made his way through, broken glasses and plates littering the floor, and Lily sitting in the middle of it all, wide eyed, trembling, looking like she was pulsing with nothing but pure rage.

“Sweet pea, what the fuck happened?” he asked quietly, his boots crunching over the broken glass, noticing her feet were cut open in several places. She’d literally gone berserk. Crouching at her side, he wondered at first whether she’d gone into shutdown, her huge blue eyes unblinking, not reacting to his presence.

“They got him.”

He was confused for a second, not putting two and two together. “Who?”

Her phone was in her hand, Lily unlocking the screen and showing him the article she had found, after a few comments on Johnny’s Instagram page had alerted her to the fact that something big had gone down upon his arrival home.

Angel took it from her, reading the headline from the news website.

‘Amateur MMA fighter arrested on multiple rape and assault charges.’ He continued. ‘San Francisco resident and up and coming MMA fighter, Johnny Boswell was arrested last night upon his arrival at LAX in connection to multiple counts of rape, battery and drugging as many as fifteen separate women. The revelations come in the wake of Mr Boswell leaving the country after his former partner, Tyra Kennedy, as well as several other women, all came forward to authorities to give detailed accounts of his abuse. Mr Boswell remains in the custody of the Richard J Donovan Correctional Facility, bail hearing pending.’

Fuck. It was a lot to take in, and Angel didn’t know where to begin with it, because on the one hand, if he was found guilty of all fifteen of the charges against him, possibly more if this prompted any other victims out there to come forward, Johnny was about to be seeing the inside of a cell for very long stretch ahead of him. On the other, though, Lily now had her chance to exact her revenge ripped from her grasp. And she couldn’t even come forward either, because too many questions would be asked, they’d find the link between him and the other men, and police searches for the one buried way out in the desert would likely follow such.

All Angel could do in that moment was pick Lily off the floor and hold her as she began to cry. Anything else could wait.

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

Text

Beyond the Blood Tie - Chapter Four.

Eh, have another chapter! I was going to be sparing in how I rolled them out, but a few of you seem to be really enjoying it, so I’ll be charitable! Especially since it’s already written and I’m just having to go back and edit it here and there. I’m also now considering writing a sequel, but we’ll see.

Anyway, y’all ready to meet vampire EZ? ;)

Previous Chapters - One Two, Part One Part Two Three

Words - 5,680

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

EZ's POV

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" The girl, Anna I think her name is, currently astride me asks, coming to a stop from bouncing on my cock.

"I think I fell asleep for a few moments. You bore me, go home," I reply bluntly, pushing her off me and getting up off the bed to put my jeans back on.

"You're fucking rude!" she snorts, while I just look at her with slight distain.

"And you've outstayed your welcome on my dick, so fuck off." Moving at speed to the door in a second, opening it and gesturing through with my hand, I stand expectantly for her to take the hint that I’m done. She pulls her dress and her underwear back on, picking up her purse and shoes before matching out haughtily.

“You’re a fucking cunt!”

I hum a chuckle. “I know, sweetheart. And you’re a mediocre lay. Bye.” Following her down the stairs, I shut the front door behind her gladly. She was good for five hours, at least. I don't know, perhaps screwing every human female I like the look of just isn't fun now I don't have Angel here to taunt with it. He ah, doesn't indulge in living flesh. There is a reason, why his libido is only satisfied by vampire women. It's up to him to tell you why, though.

"Good bloody lord, what on earth is that perfume she was wearing? She smells like something used to ward off insects!" Charles asks me as I wander shirtless and barefoot into his sitting room. He and Ursula have one each, but they can usually be found together in here at some point in the night. She's over in hers at the moment, talking on the telephone with a vampire friend in Galway, where she's from. Her Irish accent is very soft now though, since the accent of a vampire does change, depending on where he or she spends their time. I have noted though, Charles has been exempted from that for the entire time I've known him. His accent is British upper class. He speaks very properly.

"Something that smelled like it was created pre-disaster. I made her shower too, but not even washing could completely remove the cheap stench," I grumble in reply as I sit down on the couch adjacent to him.

"I must say, she was a cut or three below the usual calibre of female you bring back, my boy," he notes, raising an inquiring eyebrow in my direction.

I shrug, nonchalant. "I was seduced by the enormous boobs. What can I say?"

"Ahhh, the treasures of her chest, I think I can perhaps forgive you that," he chuckles, the fire making his pale blue eyes glint.

"Her blood was palatable as well, but other than that I grew tired of her at a much faster rate than I usually would have.”

He nods, placing his book down and turning to me. "Indeed. I have had quite the surprise in recent years, seeing a female enter your bedroom one evening and then exit it two evenings later. You're doing well, so well that I'm wondering whether it'll be one century or two that shall pass before one stays here for a whole week.”

He knows me too well. "You know my feelings towards anything even bordering on monogamy, it doesn't interest me.”

"I wouldn't expect it to either, especially not with a mortal. Some vampires find interest in it, some do not as you know. In some vampires, like Angel to use a perfect example, it does work well to settle them. We both know that isn't about to happen with him, though, not with a breather, at least. You though, my boy, you've settled into your vampirism like no other I have ever known. You have and continue to make me an exceedingly proud creator in how you conduct yourself." These words, they make me smile in return of his praise. I like it that as an offspring I have been textbook perfect, as Charles and Ursula say, that I've made my creator proud and settled into my death without much issue. It can go either way when you're turned.

Of course, every vampire requires a significant adjusting period when first turned. You have to get used to the fact that suddenly, you're dead but still there, your body begins eliminating needs of the living and you have to adjust to the fact you crave blood like an addict craves cocaine, a lust for blood that at first you cannot control. I remember one of the biggest infant mistakes I ever made was over my reluctance to give up the sunlight. 'Really, how bad are we talking? A burning sensation or will I burst into flames?' I remember asking Charles, about a week after I was turned. 'Why not go out in it for yourself and see? You shan't burn up, but you will be injured and no, it is a little more in feel than a burning sensation, as you word it' was his reply to me. So, I did. I never saw the sun after that. One ray hitting my cheek and scorching my skin off was enough for me to see his point.

After a few years, I began to settle into it with ease, Charles telling me I was the absolute model blueprint for a vampire because of how well I had settled and adjusted. For Angel, though... he's still getting there. He was a diva who hated being told what to do in life and not much has changed in his death. I'll give him this, though, he is a lot better than he was before he turned one hundred. He's been gone for two days now, and I'm thankful Ursula is settling down a little more. I found her sobbing in the kitchen yesterday at around 10pm before I headed out, crying that she could feel he was in pain as her bloodied tears stained her face. Ursula is the strongest, most formidable vampire I have ever met because of her age, but where we are concerned, she has a tremendously large soft spot. Not so much for me, but with Angel, well he's like her baby. She adores him.

I have to say, I miss him being around, even though he only recently went. I don't blame him at all for how he acted against those two humans who attempted to drain him; in fact, I'm proud of how he handled it. Drainers should answer to us only, not the humans. It isn't them who are at risk from these parasites, it’s us. I firmly believe all vampire misconduct should be addressed and handled by our own authorities too, just as many others do. Why must the mortals interfere? I'm not too fond of humans, if the truth be known. I see them as things to feed on and things to fuck and that’s about it. I do understand the points on human and vampire socialisation and co-existing that Charles and Ursula constantly enforce to both Angel and myself, but we do struggle more than they.

They're ancient and have both found some of their humanity again, we struggle because we are young and still finding ours. Well, Angel is more than me. I can control myself around mortals, he can't. They make the point that our presence has pissed off a hell of a lot of people in the world, regardless of our work in helping the humans deplete the number of the reanimated, post-disaster. 'The balance must be kept at an even keel, they are our food source and with so many of the secret keeping families wiped out after the disaster, it is imperative to have good relations with them. Respect must be shown, and if they show none to us then it proves what we all know already, that we are superior' Charles often says to me. Even though they both enforce the good relations speech, Charles and Ursula, like all vampires, still consider our race superior to the humans, because there is absolutely no denying that we are.

We're stronger, smarter and faster. Also, ask a woman who has bedded both a human man and a vampire who she prefers. Nine out of ten will tell you that we win. What can I say? We're old, we've picked up a lot on sexual prowess over our existences, and we can fuck for hours on end. Oh, and the speed we move at? Well, imagine that a little more localised in regards to certain parts of our anatomy making contact with yours. Ladies, did you just clench your thighs together? I bet you did. Bearing that in mind, what's not to like?

The main objectionable reason I've heard is because we're stone cold, but if you put us next to a heat source we will actually warm up, but not all over. Imagine if you put a stone in front of a roaring fire, it'd warm up where the heat hit it. We're much the same. For example, the human I kicked out earlier warmed the parts of me her body touched against while she slept beside me, but as soon as you remove the heat source, we go cold again. Also, the other reason I've heard countless times is the fear that is associated with us. Many humans fear my kind, with good reason to as well. But if we decide we want to fuck you, we're not going to kill you. Well, some of us won't. Others of course I cannot speak for.

After spending some time with Charles, I head over to the other side of our large house to find Ursula. I wouldn't usually bother, but I know she hasn't coped well without Angel being here. Seems she can sense just that, too.

"Checking up on me again, are you?" she asks me just as I've opened the door.

"Of course," I state, arriving behind her at her desk in a blink and watching her sketch.

"Since I can't see his face, I'll just draw it instead. I'm sure I'd be mocked by others of our kind, my pining for him, especially at my age. Him being in pain also, I can only just tolerate it," she explains, when I view the pencil sketch she's currently working that will be Angel when she's finished it. Only a quarter of his face is shaded in at present.

"You've become in touch with more of your humanity at your age, and Angel is the only vampire you've ever made who still walks the earth.” Adeline and Ivan were the only two others she ever turned, and both perished long before Angel and I were made immortal. Ivan met the final death in a vampire war, and Adeline exposed herself to the dawn and burned after she lost her human companion of eighty-five years. I think this is perhaps why Ursula is finding being away from Angel hard. She is reminded of the pain of losing vampire children before. "He will come back to you, you know this.”

"I do, you are quite correct. I shall adjust and steel myself to it more.” Going back to her sketch, she begins to add more pencil strokes across the paper, before suddenly shuddering. Vampires seldom have physical responses like that, but I know exactly why she just as. She felt Angel's pain. "I shall do better than that the next time." She then adds with a small smile as she stands and turns to me, reaching up on her tip toes and kissing my cheek.

"What was that for?"

"For being you, and at least I still have that. I have you and Charles, and the comforting thought of imagining ripping the throat out of whoever is hurting my Angel whenever I feel it happening to him," she replies with a little wink, making me laugh quietly through my nose. You must never forget that past the amiable nature, Ursula is ancient and barbaric. I've seen her enraged many times. She can strike terror on the same scale as a tsunami.

"Does it physically hurt you, to feel it?"

"No, it's more of a flare that goes through me, accompanied with a feeling similar to when we felt nausea as humans. When you eventually become a creator yourself, I hope you never have to experience it." I nod, and then leave her to it, heading out to enjoy my night in all the ways we vampires do. I'll let you use your imaginations, exercise your little human brains over what it is I could be up to.

Edie's POV

"That's a fucking terrible song, you know." The vampire tells me while I plug in an earphone to my mp3 player and blast some Jane's Addiction. They're about the heaviest thing I listen to. I have quite the eclectic taste in music, though. I think I need to spray his throat again. I much prefer him when he’s silent.

"And what would you know of Jane's Addiction?" I snort. I'm two days in, and I've given in to some of the things he asks me, some I haven't. I'm being unpredictable with what I choose to answer and ignore. It's working really well in him not being able to work me out, well, so far so good at least.

"They’re a band from my time as a human. They weren't bad, I saw them a whole bunch when I followed the Ozzfest tour one summer as a teenager, but the song you're listening to I don't care for. Then again, I wouldn’t expect someone who willingly does what you have to their hair to have any other kind of sense over what constitutes good taste.” Yeah, I got bored and decided to tone my blonde hair violet. I love it, I think it looks so pretty. Apparently, the dead dude doesn’t agree. It isn’t his hair, though, so he can piss off.

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head at him. “Insulting my musical choice and hair colour? Lame, dude. Real lame. Can’t you think of anything better than that? I care not for your opinion on either, now be quiet, or your vocal cords get a nice rinsing out with silver again.” Lifting the silver headed lump hammer within my grasp, I then swing it straight into his stomach, the vampire softly grunting in pain. I've broken several of his ribs with it already this evening, watching how his body is getting slower in recovery as his bleeding, rib punctured lungs cause him to cough up blood - and spit it out at me, several times - until he heals again after a time.

"Pardon me if I’m a little less creative in my insults. Having a chest pooling with blood will do that to you, though,” he states, through grumble of pain, actually adapting a sincere tone. He does this, swings between talking to me like an equal, talking to me like I'm trash, and then spending much of his time insulting my appearance, even though he's said quite a few times that I've a nice ass. The change in the colour of my hair is just one of many things he’s picked at so far, attempting to discover a weak point, a chink in my armour.

Ahh, crap. I just realised I slipped up there. I asked him a question and then told him to be quiet. Even though it was asked in sarcastic retort, I still did it. Retort, that's my word of the day. I aim to learn and use a new one each day. My word of the day ritual is something Aileen decided to help me with. One of her daughters is a spelling bee champ, and she regularly competes against kids in other schools. She's at a very high level with it, very large and tricky words have to be spelled. Aileen jots them (the words Sophie has to learn) all down in a tiny little flip pad for me with their meaning on the back, adding other smaller words here and there from the dictionary as well. She's been a great help to me. If you let her though, Aileen with mother you in her own little way. You should see her attack Ahmed's hair with a brush and detangling spray.

Anyway, back to my slip up. I have to watch myself more with that, I really do. I don't ask him anything more, and instead keep walking around him in circle and beating his bare upper body with the hammer. I think I know what is getting to me, what is making me slip up a little bit here and there, even though we're only two days in. It's the fact I know he's learned and wise; he's existed beyond a century and no doubt seen so much my eyes will never behold, experienced so much I never will. The little interesting facts he shares, like following that Ozzfest tour he just mentioned. I’d love to ask him about that.

Sure, vampires have always made me feel a little uncomfortable and nervy, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find them fascinating. I remember years and years ago, I had a nice chat with a lady vamp I met in a bar.

She immediately whispered 'you're not old enough to be in here, are you?' to me (I was sixteen at the time, but passed for twenty-one, incredibly enough) and a conversation was struck up because she was intrigued by my tender age. She confessed she was virgin hunting, as the blood of a virgin is not only sweeter in palette to vampires, but it gets them absolutely shit faced. Something about the purity meeting the impure. Either way, they get loaded.

I had to let her down gently by telling her I wasn't one, but she stuck around at my table and chatted to me. She didn't stay for long before going to pursue other might-be virgins, but we did get to talking about a book I had in my bag, detailing the accounts of people left stranded and desolate after the disaster, and she sat and informed me of everything she had seen as she'd travelled Europe at the time. She was Swedish, and absolutely gorgeous. If I had any attraction to vampires at all I'd have asked her if she'd have been up for sex. Yes, I like women as much as I do men. The last person I was in a relationship with was a woman, in fact.

I don't really find vampires sexually attractive, though. I like my flesh warm. But anyway, back to the Swedish vampire. She fascinated me on a level I've never been fascinated on before. She didn't tell me much about her life because of course, they never do, unless they trust you and few do. She did tell me about the many things she'd seen, though, and it was just so interesting.

I was enthralled by her tales of the world, of a world I'll never know, how things used to be once upon a time. She still made me feel uncomfortable, though, even though she was friendly. It's that dead void in them I can pick up on. Wilson, Joe and Max look at me in a 'what the fuck?' kind of way when I attempt to explain it to them, but Aileen and Ahmed both get me. They can feel that same deadness about them, that empty void where the sparkle of life once glittered.

I find as the hours pass, and as he plays more and more head games with me and I with him (or at least attempt to) the more I find it difficult not to be interested and curious over some of the things he tells me. It isn't him specifically, I just find myself drawn to intelligent people since it is something I'm so unconfident in, my own intelligence, or lack of it. It's my fault I was hardly ever at school, I can't blame my shitty home life on it or the fact I had parents who really didn't care if I was educated or not. I'm not going to blame my own shortcomings on theirs.

I could have gotten to school completely under my own steam, to the little church hall we were all educated in, since there weren't enough children in our small town to necessitate opening and running a school to educate us within. That's different now though. I used to use my parents as an excuse back then, but now I'm grown and older I see that my own youthful petulance, being angry at the world because I had shitty parents, I see that I could have helped myself a lot more in attending my classes, bettering myself above both of them. Because they didn't care, I didn't care, though.

The only time I actually attended was when they called to inform my mother of my many absences, because of what she would do to me afterwards. My mom used to enjoy the drama with my dad, she practically thrived upon it, the wild, bad tempered, alcoholic slut. My father I suspect wasn't my real father, as you know, and I think he also knew that only too well. That's why he never helped or defended me when she flew into a rage and beat the shit out of me. She was clever with it though, she never struck me where people could see, unless she punched me in the side of the head or the nose. ‘If anyone asks what happened, you tell 'em you got into a schoolyard fight, you hear? You tell anyone this was me and I'll make you sorry, Edie Larissa Bailey' is what she used to yell at me, so I never did tell anyone. Not even Vic until years after.

No sympathetic, sad little faces over there either, guys. I don't want anyone's pity. It happened, and I got over it. Well, I say I'm over it, but I have a few lingering issues because of her. I’m not quick to warm to people, for one, and because of the fear of rejection I have thanks to both of them, I can’t truly say I’ve ever let myself fall in love with anyone. So, yeah. I’m somewhat emotionally stunted as a result of being an abused child.

I’m glad that she's dead, and the man I did believe to be my father is long gone, too. Being away from them has helped me form healthier bonds with people. I don't know where my dad went, he left when he came home and found her dead, and then packed up his things and walked out, telling me 'you deal with it, I'm done with the pair of you' while pointing at her body as he'd found it on the kitchen floor before he shut the door behind him and left my life for good.

God knows who my real father actually is, he could be any of the locals from a long-ago burnt-out bar and club called Rochelle's here in Vegas, where all the seediest, grubbiest town folk congregated. I knew she was a cheap slut; I witnessed her leading men who weren't my dad (or maybe one of them was and he'd come back for seconds?) into her bedroom when I was little. I don't miss her at all. There's nothing to miss, because she was never a real mother to me. Anyway, enough of all that bullshit, because it doesn't even matter to me now. My life is a happier one for not having them in it.

"Wow, she shows me another expression to her face other than undiluted rage. What are you thinking about?" The vampire asks me, snapping me from my thoughts, which all involved imagining it’s my mother I'm bludgeoning with a hammer rather than him. I do channel a little of that anger over how she treated me into my job. I find it quite cathartic.

I ignore the question put to me and instead bury the hammer in between his shoulder blades, hearing him growl in pain and take a deep breath. It's spooky, seeing him go from still to breathing. I still have to remind myself that breathing is just a bodily response they don't really control in moments such as this. "Whoever it is, they anger you. I can feel it in your blood." he then tells me, as I walk back to the table and choose what I will hurt him with next.

"That'd be you, dead man," I mutter absently. Hmmm, knife or morning star? Decisions, decisions...

He’s sharp in his retort. "It isn't me, don't lie. This anger you have within you, it's old and it's been with you for a long time. Someone you cared about really fucked you over at some point, didn't they? Not that that's particularly hard to do with dumb shit Vegas trash, such as yourself. Whatever they did, you probably didn't even see it coming, did you?" His choice of words, they further make my insides burn with anger. More mind games here. Sounding genuinely interested over what or rather who angers me at this precise moment, and then insulting me spitefully the next. He's right in what he said, though. I most certainly didn't see it coming when my mother first raised a hand to me and smacked my butt with a leather belt so hard and for so long when I was three, that I actually couldn't sit down afterwards.

"Ahhh, it must be something pretty big, since you're only getting angrier and flat out ignoring me. I know you ignore and speak to me when you choose to, because you think you're playing some kind of mind game with me, but you're not. Don't forget, you'll never be sharp enough to outsmart me, and you'll never be smart enough to do it to anyone else, either.” More goading. Don’t rise to it, Edie. Do. Not. Rise. 'Stupid little piece of shit, I wish I'd never have kept you! You're nothing but an inconvenience!' Those are the words of my mother filling my head, yet another memory of her I wish I could erase completely. Whenever anyone reminds me of my intellectual inadequacy, I'm often reminded that my mother thought much the same.

"I hope you realise by the time you're done with me, I'm going to have mentally broken you for this," I’m then told, turning back to the vampire and folding my arms.

"Why do you even care so much, about mentally breaking me? If I'm just Vegas trash to you, just some insignificant little human, as I remember you've labelled me as before, why are you even wasting the little energy you have on fucking with me, Angel?"

"That's the first time you've ever actually spoken my name, and I liked the way you said it. Say it again.” Raising my eyebrows, I keep my arms folded, staring at him with apathy. He laughs immediately. "Ahhh, she seeks an answer to her question. Sorry, I suddenly don't feel much like talking any longer.” He casts his eyes away from me, looking all around the chamber thoughtfully. Despite himself, after a few seconds of silence, he raises his eyebrows, making a small ‘hmm’ sound in the back of his throat.

“Interesting,” he whispers, more to himself than me. Alright, what the hell has he seen in here, or picked up on that’s gotten him so curious?

Despite myself, I cannot help but inquire. “What?”

He points at the ceiling, walls and floor. “The materials used to construct this entire chamber were fabricated pre-disaster. Everything within is made by Burlen Steel, and they ceased trading back in 2001. I damned fucking knew I was right. This place used to be a bank, didn’t it? This what we’re in right now, it’s a vault. It’s had additions added to it, AC, steel floor, etc, but yeah. This was used to house valuables in its original incarnation, not detainees.”

He’s the only detainee to ever notice that. “How do you have so much precise knowledge on steel?” Fuck. Shouldn't have asked. Damn me and my stupid thirst for answers.

“I used to work with metals, among other things. Knowing steel companies is something I have ingrained to memory.”

“Among other things? What, Jack of all trades and master of none?” I cannot help but spit snarkily.

His eyes fix on me, one eyebrow fluttering a little. “Never you mind. If you won’t tell me who makes you so venomous, I ain’t saying shit about my former life. Except here’s the thing, I will find out who it is, and I will use it to break you with.”

I do wonder why it matters to him so much to break me down, though. It’s something I can’t reconcile, so ask for advice from another over it later on in the night.

"It doesn't matter to him, not at all. He's just trying to intimidate you, chicken. Trying as best he can to make you feel like you do right now, full of questions he ain’t about to give you an answer over. He's trying to take you down to his level because despite the things he tells you, you've got the upper hand. You're the one in control and he doesn't like it one little bit. Don't take it personally," Aileen tells me over a few post-work whiskies later on. The guys have all gone to a twenty-four-hour nightclub to ring in their weekend in style. I'm tired, though, and Aileen refers to herself as 'too damned old' for nightclubs. She's only fifty-two, so that's not exactly decrepit. Decrepit, my word of the day yesterday, and I managed to use it again today. Go me! "Oh, and what happened to ignoring him?"

"I tried being selective on what I chose to answer and what I didn't, to try and keep him guessing. Didn't work though," I sigh, lighting a cigarette after offering her one she accepts.

"It never will either, Edie.” She’s likely correct, shaking her head as she leans in to use the light I offer her.

"I know, I know now that it'll never happen. It's scary though, what he picks up on now because of this stupid blood tie. I'm two days in and I'm sick of him already. There are only so many times I can silver his throat and mouth because of the stupid rejuvenation regulations, so at most I can only shut him up for half a shift or less. I tried ignoring him but... it just doesn't work. I think that's because despite myself, despite the fact I dislike him, I do find some of the things he says are interesting.” My explanation is met by her nodding in understanding.

"I get that. They're very interesting beings because of how old they are, all they've seen and experienced, and I know you like to surround yourself with clever people because you don't think you're smart. He's just a detainee though, Edie. He's no different from the rest. You have to remember he's there to punish, not to get to know.”

"I don't want to get to know him!" I splutter, nearly choking on an ice cube as I empty the contents of my glass into my mouth.

"Oh, I think you do, going on that flustered reply. At least admit he intrigues you, which is what he's trying to do, by the way. They like being show offs, or at least I reckon he does.” He’s definitely a show off, very full of himself.

"I really don't, and sorry but what does intrigue mean?" I inquire.

Her smile is soft in the wake of that. "It means he makes you curious, buba. Also, your reply there was a little bit like you're trying to hide something else as well," she begins, but trails off when she stares at me for a few moments, like she's working me out.

"Stop staring at me like that," I demand lightly, feeling my cheeks prickling. I think I might have been a little too defensive in my reply to her just, when I stated I didn't want to get to know him.

"You’ve got the hots for his cold, dead ass, don't you, girly?" Oh god, I hate being put on the spot.

"No!" Hmm. I might’ve mustered a little too much conviction there.

"You do, I can see it in your face, you want his cock!” she accuses. Oh, no!

"Aileen, fuck off!" I shout, aghast in the face of her giggles.

"Oh, I was right! Edie got it bad for the vamp! That's the other thing, what I was hinting to over your reply. You're finding this tough because you think he's a hottie, oh hell no, girl!" she cries, bobbing her tongue between her teeth before putting her whiskey down to slap her hand repetitively off the table as she howls.

"I don't!" I find him attractive, but I don't want him. If I do state that to Aileen though, she'll just rip it out of me even more.

"You do! S'alright, sugar, I ain't gonna tell no one. But one thing, just you make damn sure you never let that on to him, that you like what you see, because if you do, you're done for. Mark my words."

I still protest it; I don't even want to admit it to myself that I think he's gorgeous. I don't like finding people attractive when they loathe me as much as he does, the feeling in this case being more than mutual. Also, I don't even find vampires attractive. The thought of his cold skin against mine makes me shudder with mild repulsion.

Nope, Angel fucking Reyes does absolutely nothing for me. Nothing. Nope. Not a single thing.

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