theroseceleste

[theroseceleste]

I’m so glad this is back ❤️

The Sweetest Fruit In The Garden - Part 10

Pairing: Miguel O’hara x Older!Fem!Reader

Warnings: how long do we have to suffer before these two make this official? Idk.

A/N: thank you for the likes, reblogs and comments 🩷

Tag list: @marshmallow--3 @del-ightfulling @campingwiththecharmings @silvernight-m @louboupp @iolaussharpe-24 @ingoldthewizard @twwcs @toracainz @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @cosmic-kid-in-motion @howellatme @reallyrallyauthor @theroseceleste

Tell me if you wanna be added to or removed from the taglist!

-> Series Masterlist <-

It didn't take long for you to admit your little… outburst was a bit too much. The next afternoon you knocked on Conchata’s door.

She opened it and when she saw you on the other side she narrowed her eyes.

You gulped.

“I’m sorry.” - you said lamely.

She didn't react.

“You’re the best housewife and you throw the best parties.”

Her expression was still the same.

“You’re my best friend and I appreciate you putting up with my shit.”

Her eyes softened, but she still didn't give in fully.

“And I brought this.” - you pulled out her favourite wine from the bag you were holding.

She smirked.

“Well, why don’t you come in and make yourself comfortable?” 

You smiled and you hugged each other.

“Sorry for being a bitch yesterday.” - you apologized again.

“Only yesterday?” - she rolled her eyes.

“You know what? I think I found a perfect spot where you can put this bottle of wi-!”

“Oh, look who’s here.” - Tyler said, narrowing his eyes at you while he stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

You sighed.

Conchata smirked and pulled the wine from your hands and pushed you a little towards Tyler. You grumbled but walked in front of him.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn't budge.

“You’re the BBQ king and you make the best steaks and burgers in the country.”

He didn't seem impressed.

“Thank you for putting up with my shit and for tolerating me.”

He narrowed his eyes more.

“And it’s not your fault my car is shit and you warned me not to buy it, because it’s an overpriced piece of crap.”

He lifted his eyebrows expectantly.

“And I bought this.” 

You pulled out a bottle of Johnny Walker.

He grinned.

“Welcome back! How about you sit down and relax, while I put something together for dinner?”

You smiled and hugged him too.

“You’re so lucky we’re all alcoholics here.” - he joked, making you laugh.

He kissed the side of your head, then you both heard someone clearing their throat.

You looked up and saw Miguel at the top of the stairs.

“Nice reunion. But I think you forgot about someone.”

“Hey, you barely got any insult, you didn't earn this.” - Tyler said, holding up the whiskey.

You nodded along, but then you heard throat cleaning again, but from behind you this time. Conchata was tapping her foot, expectantly.

You sighed and turned back to Miguel.

“I’m sorry for calling you a spoiled, annoying, stubborn little brat.”

Miguel cocked his head.

You narrowed your eyes.

“I don't get anything?”

“You got an apology.”

“I want a gift too.”

“Let me fix my mistake: you’re not a spoiled, annoying, stubborn little brat. You are a spoiled, annoying, stubborn big brat.”

Miguel folded his arms across his chest and huffed.

You smiled at him then turned to walk to the kitchen.

Tyler started making dinner and Conchata and you helped him. She opened the bottle of wine you bought and you raised an eyebrow when Miguel held out a glass too for her to fill.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend to hang out with?” - you asked.

“She didn't agree to be my girlfriend. Yet.” - he said, leaning against the counter.

You sighed, shaking your head a little, but smiled as you took a sip of wine.

“Tell us about her.” - Conchata said.

Miguel’s eyes moved from you down to the glass in his hand and he swirled the red liquid in it.

“She’s pretty. And fun to hang out with.”

“Wow, sounds like a real catch.” - Tyler snorted.

Miguel stayed silent for a few seconds. He felt a lot of things when he thought about you. When he wanted to talk about them you always shut the conversation down. He knew what he felt towards you was way more than simple attraction. The longer he knew you, the more he wanted to be with you. But you always took two steps back when he wanted to take one forward. He was a confident man, always having a plan and nothing could change his mind when he set a goal.

Up until he met you.

You made him question his actions on a daily basis - hell, sometimes he was sure he was on the same page as you and the next second there’s an 180 degree turn in your mood and he doesn't even know what caused it. You drove him mad - both in the fun way and in the other.

You could make him feel even more confident than he originally was with only a smile you threw his way, then make him feel like an insecure child in the next, when you don’t even want to listen to what he was trying to tell you.

You were even more stubborn than him, and he never met someone like you before. He is trying to learn how to keep your attention on him, how to keep you satisfied, how to be good for you, while trying to keep his own chin up and make you want to come to him too.

But what if what you said after your first night was true? What if he was just a good fuck for you and that’s it? What if the age gap doomed his attempts from the start?

“If someone asked you how you feel about mom, what would you say?” - Miguel asked Tyler.

“Oh no, here comes the disgusting love sick vomiting.” - you grabbed the bottle and poured your glass to the brim.

Conchata playfully swatted your arm. Tyler looked at Miguel with a smile.

“The second I laid my eyes on her, I knew I wanted her.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, remembering how on the first night Miguel took you home he said he originally led you to Tyler’s office to have sex with you.

“I knew I had to make a move, or else I will regret it forever.”

The next day Miguel wanted to come over to your flat and even after you refused, he kept pushing until you gave in.

“It actually took some time to court her. I knew she wanted me too, but she was a bit uncertain. She was alone for a long time after the divorce and didn't know how to handle all the affection I was ready to give her.”

Miguel felt like his heart was beating so strong that it was ready to break through his ribcage. 

“But I could tell she wanted me. And I enjoyed proving to her that she is worth the wait.” - Tyler continued, watching Conchata with love radiating from his gaze. - “I never met someone like her before. It was like all the other women I was interested in before were all grey and she was a vibrant painting, ready to be admired.”

Miguel turned his gaze to you and when your eyes met, realization hit him like a train.

The intensity of his gaze made you panic and as you reached for your glass to drink from it, you accidentally knocked it over.

“Shit!” - you cursed under your breath.

Conchata, Tyler and Miguel were there in a second, grabbing napkins to help you clean up the table.

“Nice one, hun.” - Tyler commented, but it was playful.

“Out of all the times you could’ve knocked over a glass, it was when it had my favourite drink in it.”

“Yeah, you know I have great timing.” - you laughed nervously, feeling Miguel’s gaze burn a hole in your skull.

“Did any of it get on you?” - Conchata asked.

You looked down and noticed some drops on your pants.

“Well, that’s just great.”

“Take them off, if we wash it while the stain is fresh it will come right out. You can choose a pair of mine to wear in the meantime.”

“Thanks.” - when she wanted to follow you out of the kitchen, you told her you’ll handle it.

You needed a few minutes alone.

You changed in her bedroom and when you walked to the bathroom, Miguel went in right after you and closed the door.

You jumped a little, surprised.

“What are you doing?”

“I need you to be honest with me.” - he said with a serious face.

You looked at him confused.

“Before I left New York to come visit my parents I told my boss that I’d be here for probably a month. I work IT, so it’s not a problem if I work from home. But there are times when I need to be in the office too, so this doesn't work long term.”

“Okay?” 

You tried to guess where this speech was going, but honestly, you had no idea what this thing had to do with you.

“That one month ends in 10 days.”

“And you go back to New York.” 

“Yes.”

You’d be lying if you said you didn't feel a bit of sadness, but ever since this thing started between Miguel and you, you also knew he will eventually go back.

Miguel licked his lips, a bit nervously. He slowly took a few steps closer to you, watching your face intently.

“The company I work for has an office here too.” 

When you didn’t react, he continued.

“I could ask my boss to move me here.”

“That’s great!”

Miguel felt his heart soar and he smiled.

“You really think so?”

“Yeah! Conchata would love you to be close!”

Miguel froze for a second.

“Uuuhhh…”

“Wait, why didn't you start working at this office in the first place?”

“Uuhh, I went to uni in New York and there are more job opportunities there, but uhh… I wasn't… I didn't bring this up because of her.”

“Then?”

“Chica, at one point in my short, mortal life I want you to not act stupid when I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.”

You looked to the side with a sigh.

“We are adults, Miguel. If you wanna go back to New York, go. If you wanna stay here, stay.”

“Muneca.” - Miguel said impatiently. - “I’m asking you if you want me to stay.”

This question shouldn't make your heart beat so hard like it wanted to escape your body and hop in Miguel’s chest so it can nestle down next to his.

“It’s not my call to decide your future.” - you said, defensively.

“I’m making it yours.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to be a part of it, goddammit!” - he almost yelled, finally losing his patience.

You jumped a little at his sudden outburst and looked at him wide eyed.

He was panting a little as he was watching you. He looked desperate and pissed off at the same time. Miguel was always calm and collected and it took a lot of effort from someone to make him lose his cool and the fact that you are able push him right to his limits in a matter of seconds both infuriated him and impressed him at the same time.

You opened your mouth, then closed it several times and you were sure you looked like a fish.

You were both happy and mad. 

You finally met a man who had the balls to challenge your ego, who was brave enough to step up and put you in your place when no one else had the balls to, who has the courage and emotional intelligence to speak about his feelings and cares enough to ask about yours.

Conchata raised his son to be a confident man without all that toxic masculinity bullshit.

Miguel was sensitive, yet brave, proud but not arrogant - okay, except when it came to you, because you always manage to bring out the worst in him. He was patient with everybody - again, except with you, because even the most saintly person would lash out if they were in the same room with you for more than a minute.

And this is what made you mad.

You just now realized what was the real problem with this relationship.

Yes, he was Conchata’s son.

Yes, he was way younger than you.

But there was a bigger problem.

You didn't deserve him.

Because every good thing he has, you compromise.

He was patient? You were able to make him lose his shit in mere seconds.

He was ready to talk about his feelings? You were able to make him regret opening up.

He was sensitive? You simply called him a child, because he was brave enough to be vulnerable in front of you.

Miguel was a good man and your insecure ass would just ruin him. He deserved a nice woman who could cherish him the way he deserved.

Starting a relationship with him would be like your marriage. Sam was a good man too and you managed to lose him. You almost made him hate you. Your only luck was that you were friends for years before that and he knew you better than to judge you about some crazy shit you pulled during your marriage. But it didn't mean he was a masochist and he showed up with the divorce papers before you could cause permanent damage.

You felt your throat squeeze up so you gulped and shook your head.

“Right from the beginning I told you…”

“A lot has happened since then.” - he cut you off.

“Because you forced it!” - you hissed, trying to stay quiet.

“Oh, so you didn't want any of it?”

“I didn't say that!”

“Then why do you keep pushing me away?!”

“Because you can't think long term!”

“Why the fuck do you think I asked if you wanted me to stay here if I am not thinking long term?”

“Miguel, look at us! I'm turning 40! What if we stay together and one day you decide you want kids? Maybe you don’t want any now, you're only 24, but who knows what happens after you turn 30? When you're 35? I'm gonna be 50 then.”

“Ever heard about adoption?”

“You don’t wanna hear what I'm trying to tell you!”

“You don’t either! Whenever there's a problem that needs to be solved I come up with solutions and you come up with excuses!”

When you looked down and remained silent, he continued.

“I don't care that you're older. I've been with a lot of women. None of them could make me feel like you do.”

You felt your face flush, but you huffed.

“How do I make you feel?”

“Happy.” - he replied without hesitation.

He saw you shake your head, but also saw the smile you tried to hide.

“You make me happy.” - he repeated. - “You also make me wanna shoot myself in the head half the time.” - he added with an eye roll.

You laughed and hit him with the pants you were still holding.

“Fuck you!”

“You know I'm always up for that.”

“Ever since you're in my life, I can’t get shit done!”- you said, pushing on his chest. - “I just wanna put these in the washing machine, but you're in my way. Classic Miggy.”

Miguel yanked the pants out of your hands, threw them in the machine, closed the door, added the powder and softener and started the program.

“Happy?” - he asked, lifting his eyebrows.

“Very.”

His eyes roamed your body, clearly having naughty thoughts, but when his eyes landed on your legs, he made a face and grunted.

“You know what? I take it back, I'm not always up for it.”

“Getting bored with me?”

“Hell no. You're just wearing my mami’s pants.”

You giggled as you followed him out of the bathroom.

-----

Conchata eyed the two of you when you returned. She didn't wanna make any assumptions, especially because her theory was way too wild for it to be actually true. She knew she made Miguel take you home a few times and you two hit it off from the minute you were introduced to each other. It was clear the two of you became some kind of friends, which was surprising considering the age gap and her son's usual relationship with his friends. For her it seemed like he always kept everyone at arm's length, even if he really liked them. You were clearly an exception, like Peter.

While she never met his son's best friend, since they met at the university in New York, Miguel mentioned him quite a few times and Conchata almost always saw them in pictures and videos together on Instagram. 

She even talked to him a few times when she was on a call or a videocall with Miguel, and Peter, being his overly extroverted self, needed to be involved too.

He was the opposite of Miguel, but it seemed like her son was drawn to people who were different from him.

You clearly verified this theory. You were older, louder, more reckless than him, and usually - while he liked being part of a conversation - he preferred to be quiet and observe others, and think before he spoke.

The interactions between the two of you were similar to the teasing you had with her, Tyler or your sister, and while it was fun to witness, it was also a bit weird how comfortable the two of you became with each other in such a short period of time.

When the two of you sat down at the table, Conchata couldn't help but make a comment.

“It's getting suspicious how much the two of you disappear at the same time.”

“That's because your son is in love with me.”

Both Conchata and Miguel's head snapped towards you wide eyed. Tyler laughed while he was stirring the food and you wiggled your eyebrows at Conchata with a smirk.

Her heartbeat returned to a normal rhythm when she saw you were just teasing her.

She chuckled too after letting out a sigh of relief.

Which didn't go unnoticed by you.

“Dear god, no.” - she joked.

You huffed.

“Hey! I'm not that bad.”

“Yeah, let's ask your ex husband that.”

You made a grimace, but it was in good humor.

You knew Conchata meant it as teasing, so you never took it personally what she and Tyler said. But it didn't mean that deep down it didn't hurt. You knew you were the reason the marriage ended in a divorce, and it scarred you for life, even if you tried to carry that gracefully.

And Miguel was aware of that. 

He noticed how your face fell the second his mom turned back to the counter to continue helping Tyler. 

Miguel was sitting next to you and he put his hand on your thigh and caressed it comfortingly.

“So when are you throwing this surprise party for me?” - you asked, trying to change the subject.

“What party?” - Conchata asked innocently.

“Come on. I don’t want people jumping out from behind a couch and yelling ‘happy birthday’ at me while I look like shit. I'm turning 40. Let me prepare.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Tuesday afternoon.”

“Tuesday?”

“That’s when your birthday is! What? You want us to push it to the weekend? It’s not like anyone will stay after 10pm. We’re old.”

You snorted and shook your head.

“Tuesday sounds good.”

[theroseceleste]

Destiny Miguel - Part 3 - The Warlock

Miguel meets his new roommate, who are they, and what will they be like?

Minors DNI

Word count - 4698

I believe this is another tame chapter, I don't think there is anything particularly triggering here

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If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks xx

Pt 1 Pt 2

A pale-skinned woman entered the room. Her bright white glowing irises landed on her new roommate that she didn’t know to expect. Soft purple hair swept across her face and was pulled into a bun on the right side of her head. She was covered in armour and robes, much like the woman he saw at the table with Commander Zavala. Her armour was a beautiful mix of white, purple and gold. The design made her look like a mediaeval knight. Her purple lips parted in shock.

(beautiful image of my warlock, Aurora, created by @smileyrhi717)

“Oh…” she paused as she looked at the door number to check that she hadn’t walked into the wrong room. After discovering that she was in fact in the correct room, she hesitantly closed the door and kept her gaze on the newcomer.

“I wasn’t expecting to gain a roommate,” she finally said, almost coldly as she approached her bed. Her armoured boots softly thudded across the floor as she walked.

The guardian kept his eyes on her, trying to gauge her attitude.

“I’m new to this - uh - guardian business,” he began. “I hope me being here is going to be okay?” His voice sounded slightly anxious.

The woman’s back was now facing her new roommate.

“Depends,” she replied curtly as she picked up the casual clothes.

“On what?” the guardian asked, his voice carried a less friendly tone to it.

The woman turned to face him again carrying the bundle of clothing from her bed in her arms.

“Titans are noisy and clumsy,” she said dismissively as she made her way to the ensuite, feeling slightly indignant that she could no longer change out of her armour in her room.

“Well, this one isn’t,” he retorted with a huff, but his roommate’s retaliation was simply shutting herself in the ensuite. Moments later he could hear water running. It sounded like she was having a shower and was going to be there for a while.

“Daddy!” a young girl’s voice cried out. The guardian felt her weight in his arms. He was running. Running as fast as he could. Fear and anxiousness filled his mind as he looked down at her. He was desperately trying to save her. Her eyes welled with tears as she was scared of what was happening around the two of them: people ran screaming, until they weren’t - they had faded into nothing, like they glitched and ceased to exist.

Much to the guardian’s horror, the little girl began to do the same. His heart ached as his chest felt like it had taken a devastating blow when he could no longer feel her presence. She too had vanished…

The guardian was now in a new place. He stood upon a platform glaring down at two teenagers, a boy and a girl in skin-tight full-body suits, bearing a spider motif on the front. He was angry beyond words and had just hurled a bin at the teenage boy in a fit of rage.

He was pissed at the boy specifically.

After yelling at the two, another man arrived, walking upside down on the ceiling wearing a pink dressing gown. After flipping and landing on the floor, he patted the boy on his shoulders and spoke to him. “Don’t be afraid of my friend Miguel, he just looks scary - he’s got no bite.”

Things started to get a little hazy. The last thing he saw was a small hologram of a woman with strawberry-blonde hair wearing pink heart-shaped glasses. She was sassy which stirred a strange feeling of nostalgia within him. His eyes opened wide as he sat up. He was in his bed, surrounded by darkness. The first thing he heard was the soft snores of his roommate, reminding him where he was. Those strange visions were a dream. A haunting dream to say the least. He could still hear that little girl. Who was she? Why was she calling him Daddy? And the name that man spoke of… Miguel…

Later that morning, the guardian got out of bed feeling groggy and sore from the day before. His roommate had already left the room - she certainly was a mystery. He still didn’t know her name. However, with the way she treated him, he didn’t think he really wanted to know.

The books on her bedside table had caught his eye. Slowly, he ambled over and picked them up. All three of them looked and smelled old, the pages had turned brown with age. His fingers ran over the leather covers with gold-leaf for lettering. One book was titled: The Iron Lords. Another was: Rasputin - The Warmind’s Victories. And the last: Osiris - Timeline Theories.

“I bet she’s great fun to be around…” he mumbled sarcastically to himself, however his ghost fizzled into existence.

“She’s a warlock. They’re all bookworms,” it replied, “useful to have around though, for healing purposes.”

“Hmm…” the guardian hummed absentmindedly as he put the books back down how he found them. He could imagine her berating him for going through her things. Then, he turned his gaze to his companion and held out his large hand, palm-side-up. The ghost’s singular eye fixed on his hand briefly. Its moveable parts flexed slightly with curiosity.

“Sit,” he said softly but there was a slight hint of authority.

Reluctantly, his companion landed gently on the palm of the man’s hand. Its eye trained on his face.

“What are you doing, Guardian?” it asked, sounding slightly concerned.

He smirked. “Making some changes - Ghost; open your command console,” he ordered.

“Yes, Guardian,” it responded in a monotonous tone.

“Is there a setting to change your eye colour?” the man asked with intrigue.

“Yes, Guardian,” the ghost repeated.

“Good. Change it to pink,” the guardian commanded.

The blue of his companion’s eye changed to the requested colour, making his smirk grow wider. “Que maravilla (how wonderful)… Next, are there any personality settings?” He wanted to change his ghost even further.

“Yes Guardian,” it replied, still in its monotone voice.

“I want something compliant but not bland. Try upping your sass to a fairly moderate level. Can you do that?”

There was a moment's silence as if the ghost was trying to compute the request. “Done.”

“Good; much better, Lyla,” he replied, his smirk still growing.

His companion twitched slightly before floating off of his hand. Slowly, it drew close to the guardian’s face. “Lyla? You’ve given me a name?” it asked flatly.

“I refuse to call you Ghost. It’s - stupid. So I choose Lyla instead,” he cooed happily.

“Can I name you then?” the ghost asked in a sly tone. Its tetrahedral segments flexed playfully as it spoke.

The man frowned. “No,” he replied flatly. “I’ve chosen my own name.”

Lyla’s shell separated slightly in surprise. “Oh? Do tell.” Circling around her guardian, she wondered what name he was going to give himself.

“The name came to me in my dream. I think what I dreamt about were memories,” the man paused momentarily. “Someone called me Miguel, so I’m going with that.”

“Okay, Miggy it is,” the ghost replied.

The guardian double-took at the little machine with a glare. “Mig-uel!” he repeated, pronouncing each syllable more strongly.

“Nah, I prefer Miggy…” she replied cheekily. Perhaps the sass level was a little too high…

Shaking his head, Miguel decided to drop the argument. He wasn’t going to rise to it.

“What’s the plan for today then?” he huffed in a bid to change the subject.

Lyla had been rolling playfully mid-air when Miguel asked her what the agenda was. She stopped and turned to face him.

“We need to pay Amanda Holliday a visit and see if we can get a part for the ship to make it break orbit.”

Casting his mind back to the day before, he remembered the laughing blonde woman in the hangar of the Tower. A stark contrast to his cold, warlock roommate.

The hangar was once again hectic. Airships came and went, and if they weren’t flying, they were in for repair.

Miguel and Lyla passed by several mechanics using drills or blow torches as they stood under or on top of these flying machines suspended on their supports.

All they had to do to find Amanda was follow the sound of her loud, friendly voice.

The jolly blonde woman saw the new guardian approach. His new face and his height caught her attention.

“Hey there! I’m Amanda Holliday, the tower’s shipwright. Can I help you with somethin’?” Her accent sounded as though she came from Texas.

Holding out his hand, Miguel introduced himself to Amanda and also gave Lyla’s name. The shipwright’s eyes widened when she noticed the pink light on the ghost instead of the usual blue.

“How did you… do that?” she asked, her eyes flitting between the two newcomers with curiosity.

“You just ask it to,” he replied simply, feeling stunned that this was at least the tenth time someone had asked him that morning.

“Oh - well, I’m just a regular human so I don’t even have one! So, d’you need somethin or ya here to chat?”

“We’re looking for a part that will get our jump ship to break orbit. We picked one up from the Cosmodrome in Old Russia yesterday.”

“Eeesh… uhhh… I don’t think I have,” Amanada replied, scratching the back of her head. “I don’t usually have many parts from that side of the world. Sorry.”

Miguel could see that she looked pretty disappointed that she couldn’t help and noticed her eyes kept wandering up and down his big frame.

“You’re rather… tall for a titan aren’t ya? Never seen one as tall as you before.”

Lyla rolled in the air playfully. “He may be a giant but he screams major titan vibes. Underneath all that armour is pure muscle!”

“Lyla!” the guardian snapped as he watched Amanda’s face blush, her gaze locked onto his chest, abs and hips. She was probably imagining what lay underneath all that protective gear he was wearing.

Miguel’s stomach growled as he entered his room. He was delighted - not really - to see the grumpy warlock had returned. His eyes fell on her as she sat on her bed, cross-legged while slurping noodles with chopsticks. Her eyes fixed intently on the book she was reading, however, to the guardian’s surprise it was floating in front of her, held by nothing.

The temptation to ask her how she did that rose, his interest was piqued; but her now unimpressed glare at him stopped his curiosity dead in its tracks.

Lyla appeared beside him, fizzling into view. She sensed Miguel wanted to talk to her.

“Where’s the noodle place? I’m starving.”

“I think it’s near the Speaker’s place in the tower,” she answered, her movable pieces rotating as she spoke.

The sound of chopsticks clattering in an empty bowl got both of their attention. It appeared the warlock had noticed something. Getting off the bed, she ambled over to the guardian and his ghost.

“How did you do that?” the moody woman asked, her stunning white irises locked onto the little machine floating in the air. Even her own ghost fizzled into existence to have a look.

“Ay, Dios - you just ask it to!” That was now the eleventh time. “Does no one ever think about customisation settings?” Miguel sounded frustrated and his patience was wearing thin.

The warlock and her ghost looked at each other, almost stunned. Firstly by the guardian’s outburst and secondly by his answer.

“You can do that?” she asked her own ghost.

The small parts of its shell moved, imitating some kind of shrug-like gesture.

Lyla’s pink light flitted between the two warriors. “I think he’s hangry, we should probably go in search of some food.”

Brushing past the warlock, Miguel strode to the door and left the room, hiding a wince with each stride. The armour he was wearing was uncomfortable and rubbing awkwardly over his bruises and cuts.

Sunset cast a golden-orange glow over the Last City. The shadow of the tower and surrounding mountains stretched over the cramped buildings the lower the sun went.

A now recently-fed Miguel re-entered his and the warlock’s room but his mood was no better.

His gauntlets clattered loudly as he tossed them aside on his bed, disturbing his roommate from reading yet another book; this time it was in her hands and not floating. A disapproving tut clicked from her mouth as her glare fixated on the grumpy titan.

“Don’t even say it,” the guardian barked as he felt her stare burning into the back of his head.

She watched as he yanked off his chest plate, the back of his armour came away too. Large red and purple marks littered his tanned skin. Her brows furrowed slightly at the sight. The warlock stood up from her bed.

“I said - don’t even-“ His words were interrupted by a strange whooshing sound followed by a gentle hum. Spinning around to see what was going on, his eyes locked onto a bright circle of light on the floor between their beds. Slowly rising up from the perimeter were little white ember-like particles.

“What’s this?” he asked, feeling slightly bad for snapping.

“A healing rift,” the warlock simply answered.

She’s a warlock. They’re all bookworms; useful to have around though, for healing purposes. His ghost's voice from earlier echoed in his mind.

“Step in. It’ll mend those aches and pains for you.”

With a tentative step forward, Miguel felt the light touch him, cloaking him in a warm, fuzzy embrace. Looking over his arms, and perfectly defined chest, his sores and bruises started to vanish. The pain accompanying them faded away. A sigh of relief left his parted lips as he watched his body heal in awe.

Once every marking on his body had gone, the rift dissipated into nothingness. The warmth left him as if the Traveller itself had let go of him from its embrace. Okay, warlocks are cool, he thought to himself.

Awestruck red eyes peered into calm snow-white. “Thanks…”

“You’ll need better armour than that before going back out in the field again.”

The guardian grumbled slightly, annoyed at her unhelpful comment. “Well, if you can conjure up some armour too…” he began with a sarcastic response as he turned to fetch his comfortable clothes from his bed.

“Wait…” she called out after him.

Miguel stopped and turned back.

The warlock’s ghost had materialised again and projected some bizarre looking items onto her bed. Five dodecahedron shaped crystals tumbled and rolled after fizzling into existence.

“What are those?” Miguel asked in awe once again. There was still so much to learn about this world that he was in.

“Encrypted engrams,” she began to explain, “these can be decrypted by Master Rahool, a Cryptarch in the tower.” Such strange words and names... This warlock might as well be speaking in an entirely different language to him.

“Okay… but what do they do? Once they’re decrypted,” the guardian asked, his interest was piqued.

“Engrams are essentially code in a physical form. Once decrypted, they can be converted into items such as armour and weaponry.” She picked one of the bright green crystals up, gleaming as she cupped it in her palm. “I’ve collected these during missions but I have no use for them. They may be of more benefit to you?”

Taking the crystal, Miguel had a closer look. Its glow pulsed in his hand.

“And, a man here can unlock what’s inside?”

The warlock nodded her head in response. “Put your armour back on and I’ll show you.”

The tower plaza looked beautiful at night. One side of the open space looked over the Last City. Its lights blinked and twinkled in the distance. On the other side, a spire stood in the middle, with two other buildings on either side of it. Inside the spire was where the vanguard operated. Various vendor stalls stood in the middle, however they were closed for the night. On the perimeter of the plaza, underneath a dark, red velvet tent, adorned with gold embroidered symbols stood a robed man.

His skin was a light bluey-grey colour, yellow irises pierced out from underneath his white and black hood. Miguel suspected Master Rahool was part of the same race as his warlock roommate and Commander Zavala.

One by one, each encrypted engram was handed over to the cryptarch who worked on revealing the data inside. Before Miguel’s eyes, the green glowing crystals transformed into pieces of armour. Each piece was bulkier than the ones he was already wearing, offering him far better protection.

Now back in their sleeping quarters, the guardian inspected his new armour more closely while resting on his bed. “Thank you for these… uh…” he wanted to call her by her name, but was still oblivious to what it was.

“Aurora,” the purple haired warlock answered, “and you are?” 

“Miguel.”

She nodded at his response and sat down on her own bed, watching him look over his armour, built specifically for titans.

“Pretty name,” he complimented her, trying to be friendly but his words were met with a chuckle.

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, guardian…”

A pink hue spread across the titan’s face, that wasn’t what he meant. It wasn’t his intention to flirt with or flatter her, he was just merely passing a positive comment. An awkward silence fell between the two. Feeling slightly responsible for killing the conversation, Aurora perked up a little and moved to sit on the edge of her bed, her feet resting on the floor.

“What’s your alignment?”

Miguel stared blankly at the warlock. Was he supposed to know what she was referring to? The purple haired woman sighed as she thought of another way of explaining things. She had forgotten this man was as dead as a dodo yesterday.

“There’s three alignments with the light gifted to us by the Traveller. Guardians can swap between them when they wish so it’s never set in stone.” She held out her hand, palm-side-up. To Miguel’s surprise, a bright purple orb grew over her hand. Stars swirled within it, then eventually elongated and disappeared into the centre. “My favoured alignment is the void, but guardians can also choose between solar and arc.”

Like a moth to flame, the titan got off of his bed and ambled over. His gaze fixated on the beautiful orb of dancing stars. Raising his hand tentatively, he considered touching it. But as his fingers drew nearer to the orb, he felt a pulling sensation. It was when he thought his hand was being stretched, like it was sucked or pulled towards the orb that he pulled it away quickly. Aurora’s open palm closed, and with that, the stunning purple entity vanished.

“I can do something like that?” he asked, sounding slightly in disbelief. “How do I know what my alignment is?” The guardian’s mind was abuzz with questions.

The warlock nodded her head to answer his first question and promptly stood up to face him.

“Let’s find out - just don’t destroy the room in the process, okay?”

Miguel’s brow furrowed as he frowned. What was that supposed to mean? “And how are we going to find out?” He couldn’t deny that he was curious to learn more.

With a straight, no nonsense expression, Aurora replied. “I’m going to provoke you. And when you feel like retaliating, I’m sure you’ll know by then.”

This all sounded very interesting. He couldn’t help but smirk for a moment. The thought of a small warlock trying to provoke him almost seemed comical. “Alright, we can give it a go.”

Without warning, the purple haired woman vanished in a blink of an eye. What the? The titan’s eyes widened in surprise before he got shoved hard from behind. Spinning around on the spot, he caught a glimpse of her just as she disappeared once more. 

Another shove came from Aurora in a different direction.

Frustration began to build within Miguel, all he could do was watch helplessly as she blinked in and out of existence. He made a mental note not to underestimate other guardians, size clearly isn’t everything.

On the odd occasion when he spotted her face, he could see her wearing a dark expression, one side of her mouth curled up into what looked like a cruel smirk. Perhaps she enjoyed playing games with him.

The abrupt shoves kept coming, between lightning fast blinks. The titan was locked in an awkward dance of being thrown left, right, back and forth. A low growl rumbled within his chest. The provocation was starting to work.

Miguel could take no more. As he clenched his fist, the room lit up with a brilliant electric-blue. A loud grunt filled the air as he swung for the irritating guardian. The hairs on his head began to stand on end as Aurora ducked away. To his surprise, his fist represented a tight ball of electricity. He froze as he watched the electric energy fizzle away.

“Holy shit...” his voice was barely above a whisper as he stared at his hand.

A pale hand reached out and seized his. The warlock wasn’t fussed by the electricity that surrounded his fist just a moment ago. Her attention was fixed on the talons that were now protruding from his fingertips.

“What are these?” she mused as her hands inspected each of his fingers, even gave a claw a quick prod to see how sharp they were. “Ow!”

Miguel rolled his eyes. “What did you expect?”

Before things got weird by holding his hands too long, Aurora relinquished them. “That’s not normal human behaviour,” she looked up at him in a half-intrigued, half-scrutinising manner. “What are you?”

White eyes roamed over his face, taking in every detail before she forgot herself and started physically inspecting his features.

Elegant but strong hands more-or-less manhandled him—

“Hey! Cut that out!” Miguel began as he tried to pull her hands away, but she swatted at him before continuing running her thumbs across his cheekbones - a rather forward gesture, he thought.

“You have red eyes which isn’t a typical genetic outcome, but everything else about you is… positively human…” the warlock took her hands away, much to his relief.

“Still working out a few things,” the titan retorted. “In case you didn’t know, I was brought back to life yesterday and still have questions of my own that need answering.”

A sympathetic look flashed across Aurora’s pale features. She could remember the time she was found and resurrected by her ghost.

As a warlock, she spent her free time reading up on things, doing research to answer questions that her ghost or anyone in the tower couldn’t answer.

She stood back and took a seat on the edge of her bed and she gestured for him to do the same. “Ask away. What do you want to know?”

Where to start? He thought to himself as he perched his towering form on his bed, totally forgetting that he is sitting with just his lower armour on. His now bruise-free chest out on full display - not that Aurora noticed either.

“Okay; so, ‘arc’, I’m guessing?” he gestured with his clenched fist. That was what he and Aurora were trying to discover before she caught sight of his ‘non-human’ claws.

Aurora nodded. “Yes, you seem to be aligned with arc currently. But over time, you will discover the different energies that your light can provide,” she answered.

“And your alignment is void, right?” Miguel asked, thinking about the purple ball that hovered over her palm.

“Void is an interesting energy, it can devour whatever is nearby. Maybe similar to that of a black hole, perhaps?” She offered a method for him to understand. “Void titans are typically defenders. They can generate a defensive bubble that protects all that stands inside. Very useful on missions.”

Miguel nodded as he listened. Finally, some useful information was being fed to him. “And, solar?” he probed further.

“Fire, essentially. Or fires that burn as hot as the sun,” Aurora answered. “Solar titans wield a flaming hammer. Just the sound of it can reduce an enemy to a quaking, shivering mess.”

It took a fair bit of control for Miguel not to guffaw with the idea of running amok with a flaming hammer in hand, so an intrigued smirk grew across his lips instead.

“You make titans sound intimidating,” he commented, perhaps his ego was starting to feel lucky and excited over being part of a discipline that seemed fearsome.

Aurora shrugged. “Titans can be. They certainly provide more brawn than the others.”

“Others?” Miguel raised an inquisitive eyebrow as he leaned back against his hands on his bed and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “So there’s other disciplines than titans and warlocks?”

“There are hunters, too. And each of us brings something unique to the table. Titans aren’t the only intimidating class.”

His ego deflated slightly.

“Titans may be big and can take more damage, but they are slow and loud due to their heavy weight. 

“Warlocks are the middle class, faster and lighter. While titans can offer help with offence and defence, warlocks can heal and empower.

“And Hunters are the fastest and quietest. Stealth is their forte, sneaking past those defences and destroying from the inside.”

Miguel wasn’t too sure if her explanation wasn’t a way to dunk on him after she built him up explaining about titan abilities. But at least he managed to learn more from her about the people he had unexpectedly been surrounded by after yesterday’s events.

“And, what are you, exactly?” he asked, seeing as she was so forward with him earlier. At least he wasn’t poking and prodding her…

It seemed as though Aurora knew this question was coming at some point and didn’t look offended. “There are two other races that have been chosen by the Traveller and gifted the light by it: the Awoken,” she pointed to herself, “and Exo - a kind of humanoid-cyborg invented by Clovis Bray and his company ‘Bray-Tech’.”

Miguel was now fascinated and fully invested. He ended up having yet even more questions when his previous ones were answered, but it was interesting information to learn. “What are the Awoken, then? Aside from the different skin-tones and eye colours, you seem mostly human.”

Aurora hadn’t moved much after sitting on the edge of her bed, she sat up straight, knees pinned together and hands resting on her lap, holding the other. “We are essentially a more evolved species of humanity. My understanding is, the original Awoken were born as a result of human colonies leaving earth getting caught in some kind of space storm.

“Not all Awoken are guardians. The ones in the Reef are ruled by their queen, Mara Sov. I don’t answer to her, however, my calling as a guardian takes priority.”

Queens, space colonies, this was such a diverse story, and yet he felt he was merely scratching the surface.

“And, Exos? You mentioned a company called Bray-Tech?”

Aurora nodded again. “A long time ago, a brilliant inventor named Clovis Bray started a new form of life.

“Human intelligence could be downloaded into a unit. They act like humans, communicate like them too, but they are just robots.”

Miguel still had many questions, but it looked as though Aurora was in need of some sleep.

With a new set of armour, Miguel should probably be ready to enter the fray again tomorrow and return to the Cosmodrome. Perhaps some sleep would do him some good too.

At least he no longer seemed quite so deep in the darkness of ignorance.

In the privacy of the bathroom, Miguel clambered himself out of the remainder of his armour and slipped into something more comfortable.

Reentering the shared bedroom, Aurora was already in bed, her back was facing him. Her purple hair that was usually in a bun cascaded freely over her pillow.

She was not that bad, he thought to himself, his expression softened slightly as he observed her sleeping peacefully.

Eventually, he too got into bed and turned out the light.

I hope you enjoyed the third chapter of this fic. I will post up part 4 once it is out of early access on Patreon.

Find part 4 on Patreon here >

Buy me a coffee! (And gain access to my discord)

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks for reading! xx

[theroseceleste]

Destiny Miguel - Part 2 - The Last City

Safely out of the Cosmodrome, Miguel is brought to the Last City. Who will he meet?

Minors DNI

Word count - 1859

There isn't anything particularly triggering in this chapter.

Buy me a coffee! - If you feel inclined... You will be supporting me doing what I love (which is writing for your entertainment), and you will be able to join my Discord! Alternatively, join my Patreon where you can get early access to my work when it gets released (and also access to my Discord which is 18+!) Patreon link

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Pt 1

Flying fast over snow-covered peaks and through storm clouds as lightning leaped between them, the Last City finally came into view.

There was an awkward silence in the cockpit the entire time while the guardian stared idly out of the window as the ghost took control of the ship. Countless questions circled his mind. There was so much to process. It was a struggle to know where to begin.

Looking at the Last City, even more questions filled his mind. Eyes widened as he took in the sight before him.

A tower stood at the edge of a city; dwarfing almost everything inside the large defence walls that protected its civilians. It was a wide building that had almost constant airship traffic. Some coming in to land, others leaving and blasting off into space.

The only other thing that was bigger than the tower was what pushed a more urgent question to the front of his mind.

“What the hell is that?!” he asked, his voice finally breaking the long silence in the cockpit of the ship. Shocked eyes were locked onto the thing in question. A giant white sphere loomed over the city. However, something within him knew it wasn’t a threat. He felt at peace in its presence.

“That is the Traveller, Guardian,” the ghost began to explain. “The very thing responsible for my existence, and your second chance in life.”

As one question was answered, even more filled his mind. His hand rose to pinch the bridge of his nose to ease some tension, but his index finger and thumb bonked into the helmet he forgot he was wearing. There was an indignant sigh followed by a dull thud as the guardian leaned his head against his seat in the airship’s cockpit.

The Tower’s hangar was bustling with activity. Airships coming and going. Large pallets loaded with supplies being driven around to be stored away. A jovial woman with short blonde hair laughed loudly as she patted a man wearing overalls on his back. She wore a black sleeveless shirt, black trousers with big pockets and a large, red neckerchief. Her arms were covered in tattoos and her hands wore brown gloves. She carried a spanner in her other hand. Her goggles caught the light and gleamed brightly, catching the newcomer's eye. Triggering a strange memory, or image in his mind of a man with reddish-brown hair, a cheeky face and mechanic goggles strapped to his head. His heart pounded at the thought.

The companion noticed its guardian’s attention was drawn to the woman. “That’s Amanda Holliday. She’s the Tower’s shipwright. If you want to get an upgrade for your ship or sparrow, she’s your girl,” it explained. “Actually, we should speak to her at some point. But first, I need to take you to Commander Zavala.”

In a quieter, less busy part of the Tower, a grand table sat in the middle of a large room. A wide window at the other end overlooked rolling hills leading up into tall, rocky mountains. People and robots stood at screens or walked around with tablets, monitoring many of the tower’s systems.

Around the large table were three people who stood out from the rest. One was a bald woman dressed in long purple robes. She stood tall, in a relaxed manner, her arms behind her back as she faced away from the room’s entrance.

On the left-hand side of the table was someone with a cloak draped over them and their hood was up. They casually flipped their blade as if they were bored and wanted to pass the time.

At the far end was a heavily armoured man, leaning on the table with both of his hands. His skin was a pale grey colour and there were shimmering blue highlights running down the bridge of his nose and across his cheeks. The armour he wore was bulky, designed to provide heavy protection. He looked up as the new guardian and his companion approached.

“Greetings, Guardian - welcome to the Tower.” He stood up tall as he spoke in a deep but warm voice.

The newcomer stood in silence as he was still processing everything. He was thankful his ghost was doing all the talking.

“Commander; we have arrived from the Cosmodrome in Old Russia. It’s concerning to see just how much of it is Fallen territory now.”

The heavily armoured man nodded silently as he listened. “I would like you to return at your earliest convenience. See if you can loosen their grip there.” The authoritative man began. “But first you should rest up, get better equipment and understand the role you now play here and for humanity.”

“Thank you,” the ghost spoke softly and with gratitude, while the guardian felt rather indignant. He didn’t ask for any of this. Earlier today he was dead, resting in some semblance of peace; and now, thrown into the deep end of a war for humankind’s survival.

The commander nodded as he tapped on a tablet screen. “I’ve assigned you a room for your sleeping quarters. You’ll have a roommate who’ll help you settle in, I'd expect.” His eyes wandered over the newcomer, taking in his build. “Do you know your discipline, Guardian?”

His patience was growing thin. “I don’t know what the fu-”

“Titan, Commander,” the companion interjected. “With his build and strength, Titan is the best bet.”

The guardian glared at his ghost through his helmet. None of this made sense to him and no one seemed to be forthcoming with an explanation.

A small smile formed on Commander Zavala’s face. “Very well. I’m the Titan Vanguard. I’m pleased to welcome you to my team of valiant, hard working people.” He gave a nod to the newcomer. “I’ve sent your ghost the details of your quarters.” The Titan Vanguard then turned towards the table and joined the other two in their work.

The Guardian’s sleeping quarters were small and simple. There were two single beds on opposite ends of the room. His roommate was out when he arrived. Their clothes were folded neatly on their pillow and there was a pile of books next to the bed.

On the way to the room, the newcomer was given a basic t-shirt and sweatpants for comfortable clothing when in his room. He couldn’t wait to get his armour off.

“So, are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?” he grumbled to his ghost as he explored the room and found the ensuite, which was also basic. The guardian was pleased to find a mirror. With no idea who he was before he died, he also had no clue as to what he looked like.

“Yes, I guess I should explain a few things,” his companion replied sheepishly, its singular eye dipping low as if it was feeling slightly shameful.

While staring into the mirror, the weary man’s hands clasped around the base of his helmet and lifted it away. Before him in the mirror's reflection was a man with dark tanned skin, red eyes and messy dark brown hair which was stuck to the sides of his face from having the helmet on all day. His fingers ran slowly over his pronounced cheekbones.

“I’m listening…” he prompted his ghost as he began to find a way to unclip his shoulder pads.

The floating machine gave a contemplative sigh as if it was trying to work out where to begin. “Several hundred years ago, humanity found the Traveller had entered their solar system and settled near Mars. There was much excitement for humanity, a clear answer to the age-old question of whether they were alone in the universe…” It started as it watched the guardian remove more of his armour. A pile of padding gathered on the counter next to the sink.

“The United States of America, Russia and China sent an astronaut, cosmonaut and a taikonaut to Mars to investigate this strange anomaly hovering over the red planet. Upon their arrival, they were greeted with rain, which everyone knew back then wasn’t possible. They discovered that the Traveller had the power to terraform planets that were in its vicinity.”

The nearly naked man watched his ghost talk to him through the mirror’s reflection. He listened while his eyes glanced over his chest, arms and back occasionally, spotting several deep purple bruises.

“In the coming years, the Traveller relocated to Earth, beginning humanity’s Golden Age. With its power, the average human’s lifespan tripled. It was the dawn of new, exciting technology. Wars between nations stopped as every leader understood there was something far greater to achieve; colonising other planets and expanding the footprint of the human race across the universe.”

As the guardian listened, he began to put on his grey t-shirt. The material was stretched comfortably around his well defined muscles.

“Unfortunately, the Golden Age was brought to an end, beginning what is known as the ‘Collapse’. A warmind that was brought to life during the Golden Age detected an oncoming threat. The defence system that humanity called Rasputin understood the sheer power of what was coming. Power that rivalled the Traveller. The power we now refer to as the Darkness.”

The almost fully clothed man, now hopped about as he tried to get into his sweatpants. His legs were also covered in bruises and scorch marks from where he got hit.

“The Traveller successfully pushed the Darkness away and defended humanity from total annihilation. But it came at a heavy cost. The Traveller was weakened, and in its final moments, ghosts like me were born. A product of the Traveller’s light. We were tasked to search those who had long been dead and breathe life into them once more, if we deemed them capable and worthy to be guardian’s of humanity. Heroes who wield the Traveller’s light to defend Earth and humankind from the Darkness and other threats that have presented themselves since the Traveller came to this planet.”

That was a heavy story, the guardian thought to himself as he started to gather his armour in his arms. “And that’s what I am?” he paused as he picked up the final piece. “A hero?” he asked with a dubious smirk, stepping into the bedroom. But before the companion could answer, a piece of armour clipped the doorframe, disrupting the pile in his arms. A loud clattering sound filled the room as everything dropped onto the tiled flooring. The man double-took at his hands while the ghost gasped at the sight of his fingertips, sharp and deadly claws protruded from them. The sudden noise and his jumpiness must have caused them to unsheath.

“That’s new. I’ve never known a guardian to do that before,” the companion commented with intrigue before looking back up at the shocked man’s face. “That’s not a human thing…”

“No shit…” Crouching down, the guardian began to collect his things again, while his claws slowly retracted now that his shock had died down.

“So… Titans-” he began as he stood up but he was interrupted as the door to his room opened. His roommate had returned…

I hope you enjoyed the second chapter of this fic.

Next chapter >

Buy me a coffee! (And gain access to my discord)

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks for reading! xx

[theroseceleste]

The absolute truth. It's nice to get praise / recognition for work, no matter how old or new it is. We put in so much time, effort and put our soul into our work and it puts a smile on our faces when we see that people enjoy it.

hi, sorry, I just wanted to ask, and this is prolly going to sound super dumb, are authors chill with people commenting on their old fanfics and stuff?

just want to make sure that I'm not inadvertently being annoying

I believe I speak for most authors when I say they’ll never be annoyed by any positive comments from their readers

authors, reblog if you love receiving new comments on your old works

[theroseceleste]

Destiny Miguel - Part 1 - New Light

Note - When I'm not working my backside off writing for all of my fabulous followers (and writing my first ever novel!!), I am a gamer, and LOVE Destiny. My characters - the ones I made in the game will also feature. Honestly it has been fun writing Miguel interacting with them.

I appreciate not all of you are gamers, but with my knowledge of this lore-deep game, I couldn't resist throwing Miguel into the mix. There will be smut, don't you worry, it's not all nerdy stuff - I promise. I will include screenshots where I can - this chapter actually has a few.

Buy me a coffee! - If you feel inclined... You will be supporting me doing what I love (which is writing for your entertainment), and you will be able to join my Discord! Alternatively, join my Patreon where you can get early access to my work when it gets released (and also access to my Discord which is 18+!) Patreon link

Minors DNI

After being dead for centuries, Miguel is brought back to life by a small machine that calls itself his 'ghost'. Follow the rollercoaster of a journey he embarks on after the strange awakening.

Word count - 4030

Contains - It's a fic that is based on the first person shooter game Destiny. There will be guns involved. A level of violence that Miguel uses for self defence.

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks xx

Howling, bone-chilling winds blew through the air. The sun was setting on what looked like a post-apocalyptic landscape. An endless sea of decaying, rusting cars left abandoned several hundreds of years ago. Bushes and trees had grown through the cracks of tarmac, swaying dramatically by the influence of the strong winds. One would assume it was a peaceful place, given the deserted appearance, however this area was home to something alien, and had been for centuries.

Large ships swooped in and out of the area, transporting the alien species and their collection of loot. Loot being scraps of machines, metal, and any kind of gadget they could use to upgrade their weaponry, armour and even themselves.

Amongst the sickly-orange and rusty cars, a tiny white object drifted between the warped hunks of metal, searching for something. Its central core, resembling an eye for the little machine, scanned places here and there as it continued its search.

Surrounding the eye was its shell, which consisted of several pieces that could detach and rotate freely around its central sphere.

The tiny white object scanned the contents of one of the cars. Inside it lay the bones of a human who had been long dead. A large hole in its skull as the remains lay slumped over the passenger seat.

“Ouch,” a feminine but mechanical voice rang out from the floating device before flying off; it had lost interest after the results of its scan.

Off in the distance, a squad of three aliens on a scouting mission spotted the tiny white speck, swooping from car wreckage to car wreckage.

Nestled amongst a large patch of foliage, more human remains lay undisturbed for centuries. The little machine almost flew right over it, but something caught its eye, like it could read something from it. It began to scan the collection of bones - long thin blue lines probe the remains as it scanned. All eight of its tetrahedral segments separate from its core almost like it was in shock. They reattached as it drew closer to the object it was inspecting.

“Is it possible?” the device spoke again, unsure whether to believe what it was seeing. It waited a few more seconds before it was absolutely sure.

“There you are.” The shell completely came apart as a ball of blue light emanated from its core.

It maintained its focus on the human remains. The white segments circle around the eye wider before drawing completely closed and a bright flash of light erupted from it.

What lay as human remains was now an actual full body of a tall, muscular man. His large frame was covered in armour, even his face was obscured from the floating device by a helmet. The resurrected man began to stir as he heard someone, or something talk to him for the first time in a very long while.

“Guardian… Guardian? Eyes up, Guardian!” the feminine mechanical voice snapped in an attempt to rouse the man quicker. His head lazily turned as he groaned slightly. His vision was blurry after he opened his eyes after being dead for so long.

“It worked… You’re alive!” the little machine cheered, almost in disbelief. Its tiny blue eye remained fixed on the man. “You don’t know how long I’ve been looking for you.”

The man grunted as he tried to get up, his body felt stiff as a board after lying there for so long.

“What are you?” he began to ask, his voice was husky. Everything he was doing felt brand new to him - moving, looking, talking. “Who am I?” he started to realise he had no idea who he was. It was like he was just born as an adult, with no history or identification known to him.

The white flying device lowered itself to the man, as it noticed him looking down at his large hands, flexing his fingers. Knuckles and joints popped and clicked as he did so.

“I’m a Ghost,” the feminine voice paused momentarily. “Actually, now I’m your ghost. And you… Well, you’ve been dead a long time.” It watched as the human’s head turned up to look at the thing that called itself his ghost. “So, you’re going to see a lot of things you won’t understand.”

The nameless man was speechless and stunned. Being woken up or resurrected in a place like this and a floating machine talking to you is enough to make anyone struggle to find the appropriate words. As he tried to stand, a distant battle-cry rang out not too far away causing the Ghost to look around. Its blue eye flitted left and right, as it scanned the environment for immediate threats. It turned back a moment later, its detachable parts quivered slightly as if it was feeling fear.

“This is Fallen territory. We aren’t safe here.” The Ghost’s focus moved to a large building in the distance, opposite from where the battle cry came from. “I have to get you to the City.” With that, the little machine turned again to take one final look before returning. “Hold still,” it said softly before it fizzled out of existence. The small device wasn’t giving him much opportunity to ask questions. It seemed the little machine was in a hurry.

The man who the ghost called ‘Guardian’ focused on the building in front of him. It was as wide as far as he could see, like a large fortification encompassing a base. The walls were slanted and had missing panels. Despite it looking in disrepair, it had withstood the elements and time itself far better than the long line of cars outside had.

“I’m still with you,” the now disembodied voice assured the guardian. “But we need to move, fast.”

Up ahead, a pathway of grass and pebbles with a scattering of snow snaked through  the clusters of aged, abandoned cars. The man could see an entrance to the large building.

“We won’t survive long out in the open like this. We need to get inside the Wall,” the ghost said with a hint of urgency in her mechanical voice.

With weak and shaky legs, the guardian began to move. His footsteps thudded heavily on the pebbled ground. After a few moments, he picked up speed and began to run faster towards the giant fortification. Another screech came from behind - still at a distance, but whatever it was, it was getting closer. The man picked up the pace as he had gained more confidence on his feet.

Upon entering the building, the sunlight faded the deeper he went in. With a fizzle, the ghost reappeared, its eye lit brighter, acting as a hovering torch for him.

“Okay; I need to find you a weapon before the Fallen find us,” the feminine voice mumbled as if it was deep in thought.

Inside the building, doors had been ripped off of their hinges, wall panels were missing and ceilings had collapsed; exposing ventilation tubes and old insulation dangling from above.

His footsteps slowed slightly as he heard a scuttling sound on the floor above.

He wasn’t alone.

“Quiet. They’re right above us.” The guardian’s little companion warned him. His heart pounded hard. The sensation felt strange, as if he wasn’t used to having a heart at all. Approaching a set of stairs, something moved inside the wall in front of him. A fallen wall panel revealed the unknown being’s glowing electric blue eyes as it climbed upwards. His heart almost leapt out of his chest as he froze on the spot.

Thankfully, it was oblivious to the guardian’s presence.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he slowly climbed the stairs, holding his breath each time the metal beneath him creaked and groaned under his weight.

Reaching the top, he entered a large open space, however, with no power, he could see nothing. His ghost rose above him as it began to speak quietly.

“Hang tight. Fallen thrive in the dark. We won’t. Let me see what I can do.”

His eyes followed his floating companion as it flew off across the cavernous room. Its light highlighted some support beams as it flew past, revealing a solitary creature he assumed was a member of the Fallen, crawling up a thick pipe.

As if speaking through a radio, the guardian heard his ghost talk to him from a distance. Its light disappeared round a corner when it discovered a way to turn the power on.

“Another one of these hardened military systems… And a few centuries of entropy working against me.” He heard his companion mumble.

Squinting through the darkness he tried to spot any sign of the glowing light that belonged to the ghost but suddenly, overhead, lights began to switch on as the hum of power flowed back into the building. The man guessed his companion was able to hack into the building’s systems. He smiled as he watched his little ball of light return to him. However the happy expression didn’t last long.

“They’re coming for us!” the panicked female voice yelled as the blue light sped back towards the guardian. Behind it, were other flying objects with ominous red glowing lights. More creatures scaled the pipes while others ran along walkways, navigating their way to him and his ball of light.

The ghost rushed to a shutter and hacked it to open up now the power was back on.

“Here! I found a rifle! Grab it,” it commanded as the doorway rattled its way up its runners. Behind it was a weapon that had been dropped on the ground. Who knows how long it had been lying there…

More questions began to run through his mind. Did he know how to shoot? Was there any ammunition? Was he going to be able to do what the ghost wanted him to do? He seemed to just be following this thing blindly, believing every word it said to him. Was he right to trust it?

At this point, the guardian had no choice in the matter, things were coming after him. There was no turning back now. Rushing forward, he grabbed the rifle that his ghost had discovered for him.

“I hope you know how to use that thing,” the ghost commented with an air of anxiousness.

“Yeah. So do I,” he mumbled to himself as he rushed around a corner, avoiding piles of rubble and debris on the corridor floor. Pipes ran along the walls, splitting off into different directions. His pounding feet echoed down the narrow passageway as he ran. A large shadow cast on the wall ahead of him at the end of the corridor. He was getting closer to the Fallen. Swallowing hard, he prepared himself for a fight.

“Eyes forward. Watch your tracker,” his companion instructed.

Before he could ask what on earth the ghost meant, he noticed a circle appear in the top-left of his vision inside his helmet. The shape was split into segments like an orange. The top edge of the circle glowed red, suggesting something was nearby at his twelve o’clock. A little blue pointer showed in the middle of the circle, he assumed that was meant to be himself.

As he continued to run, movement to his left caught his eye and the central part of his circle shone a deep, dangerous red. From a small opening in the wall to his left, a creature leapt out at him.

“Shit!” he yelled as he spied the creature carrying what looked like an electrically charged knife. In a panic, he stepped back and instinctively raised the weapon. Aiming down the sights, he pulled the trigger back. A spray of bullets shot out of the automatic rifle, striking the creature and taking him down.

“Good shot, Guardian,” the companion commented, sounding impressed if not slightly relieved.

The guardian continued to follow the corridor round a ninety degree corner. More debris and cables littered the floor, long lights hung low from the ceiling; their fixtures had come undone over an extended period of time without maintenance. Old yellow water tanks lined the wall opposite him.

Eventually he entered a large room. More of these Fallen creatures dropped down from the ceiling, or came out from their hiding places. There were plenty of spots for these things to hide. Support columns and supply crates to name a couple. The guardian’s eyes were wide, rarely blinking as he frantically looked about, watching for threats or aiming with his gun. Every time he cleared a room of the Fallen, he allowed himself a moment to blink and take a breath.

Another surprise attack as he rounded another corner. He had forgotten to reload. The weapon uselessly clicked as he pulled the trigger.

“Mierda!” he growled, totally unaware that he yelled a word in a different language. His mind was too preoccupied with the advancing creature. Having no time to reload, he did what came naturally to him. A swift devastating punch to the creature’s head stopped it dead in its tracks, falling to the metal floor in a heap.

“Definitely a titan…” A mumble came from the disembodied woman’s voice.

“What was that?” the guardian retorted as he reloaded his weapon. Strangely, he seemed to know what he was doing. He continued to make his way down another corridor, leading away from the large room he was in. The ghost didn’t respond, and the man didn’t bother to push for an answer. He could hear more scuttling, which occupied his attention.

Running past probably the thousandth box so far, the companion suddenly spoke out with interest.

“Oh; a cache! Open it up!”

With his heavy frame, the man skidded to a halt to turn back and inspect the crate. Inside, was another weapon along with scrapped bits of machine or computer parts. The gun had a long, narrow barrel and a large scope on top. It was a sniper rifle.

“Quick. Sling it over your shoulder and go,” the ghost instructed him.

Doing as he was told, he stood up and clipped the weapon to his back. He continued on his way, and rounded a corner to his left. The guardian was met with two angry-red beams spanning the entire width of the corridor, intersecting in the middle.

“Tripmines! Don’t touch them!” the companion instructed.

“Good to know…” the man retorted sarcastically as he ran forward, ducking low. Resting his left palm on the floor, he slid under the lasers before swiftly getting back onto his feet again. He was beginning to feel more confident with his body. His movements had become more swift and less taxing than they originally were.

In the distance, another couple of red beams caught his eye. As he approached, a Fallen creature jumped out from a gap in the wall brandishing a knife. It took a swipe at him, but with a hard punch, the alien stumbled backwards, disturbing the laser and tripping the mine.

A deafening boom filled the air and shook the corridor, causing the guardian to flinch and take cover. The Fallen creature was killed instantly from the blast.

Before he could move on, more enemies appeared, making their way to him from the opposite end of the corridor. Swapping weapons, the man aimed down the long scope at the head of one of the creatures. He held his breath for a moment to keep the gun still. Without any hesitation, his finger gripped the trigger and pulled. The entire weapon jolted backwards with its recoil as the heavy shot rang out, ripping through the air. His target fell to the floor, dead. Two more shots followed, picking off the last of the enemies.

After reloading, he entered yet another large room. Four support columns towered over him, holding the ceiling up. A large red flag hung from the top, displaying a strange motif that meant nothing to him. Bizarre symbols were displayed on the wall, which looked like words written in Russian.

The chamber was quiet - too quiet. Sharp eyes darted from column, to crate, to large piles of rubble. Striding into the room, his automatic rifle back in hand, his suspicions were confirmed quickly. The tracker in his helmet’s vision lit up completely red as he became surrounded.

These creatures were armed with more than just electric knives. Some carried guns of their own kind. He was hit numerous times by small blue balls of energy. His armour offered some form of protection, but it still stung when he was hit.

One by one, each enemy was taken down either by being shot or receiving a devastating blow to the head with his fist. He had understood very quickly this was a kill or be killed situation his ghost had got him in. He’d have to ask questions later; if he makes it out alive that is…

Once that room was cleared, he dashed out of an open door to the side. The guardian had been following a white arrow on his tracker, keeping it at the top of his circle meant he was going in the right direction.

The way out was through a wind tunnel. Thankfully, the gigantic fans were motionless; allowing him to walk between the oversized deadly blades. His booted feet splashed through puddles of water that had collected on the ground; over the many years, water had made its way from outside and partially flooded the vast chamber.

The guardian’s companion spoke up again, making him jump slightly. He had forgotten it was still there, watching.

“The Fallen have a tighter hold on this place than I thought. Just a little bit further. Let’s hope there’s something left out there.”

The man frowned under his helmet. He still had no idea what was going on and felt perturbed by it. Finding another door, he was immediately met with a breeze pushing against his suit.

Now armed, it was safer for him to go outside. The sky had darkened as the sun had set. An enormous, towering rocket stood proud, pointing up into the night sky. The guardian’s mouth dropped in awe at the sight.

“Just what exactly are you expecting me to do, Ghost?” he asked as he eyed the complex-looking vehicle, feeling anxious.

“We’re looking for a way to get out of here. This was an old Cosmodrome. There’s got to be something we can fly out of here,” his companion replied as it set new coordinates on the guardian’s tracker.

Following the arrow on his compass-like feature, he ran forward across a yard. A bright red flare shot up in the distance. The loud popping sound it made as it fired high into the air echoed between the buildings, turning the man’s attention to it.

A bright portal opened up in the sky. Two large ships travelled out of it. One considerably bigger than the other. The smaller of the two flew right over the path the guardian was going to take.

“Fallen ships! This close to the surface?!” the ghost exclaimed. “Move!” There was urgency in its voice.

The nameless man broke into a sprint, large powerful strides pushed him forward in a hope to get to the coordinates without running into any more trouble. Sadly, the Fallen had other ideas.

To the guardian’s annoyance, the airship stopped just ahead of him. More Fallen dropped out of the back of it, ready to interfere with his and the ghost’s escape plan.

After finding a good vantage point, he swapped weapons, taking the sniper rifle. With precise aim, he took out the entire squad that was sent to stop him. Deadly shots echoing through the air as each Fallen member collapsed in a heap on the ground.

With the coast now clear, he jumped down from his position and began to sprint across the desolate land.

A low humming noise indicated another ship was incoming.

More enemies dropped in front of him. The man growled with frustration as he raised his auto rifle taking aim at his first target.

The creature's screams and howls filled the air as he cut through them while taking several hits himself.

After crossing the large yard, he approached another building. Smaller flying enemies spilled out of the jammed-open double doors. He gritted his teeth and got hit again from oncoming fire. Taking aim, he retaliated and showered the small hovering machines with bullets making them explode, scattering their parts all over the ground. His heavy footfalls crushed certain pieces as he ran through the debris and into the building.

His ghost spoke again, to provide the guardian an update on the task at hand. “I’m picking up signs of an old jumpship. Could be our ticket out of here.”

With a nod, the frustrated man pressed on, following the new coordinates his companion had provided him. It was clear the Fallen had made this place one of their bases of operations. They set up their own lights in the otherwise dark, complex maze of corridors and rooms.

The twisting and turning halls finally opened up into a clearing where an old ship was held up precariously on its stand.

The guardian stood below it, gazing up at the old and worn-out engines. His companion materialised and drifted around it to inspect it in greater detail.

“It’s been here a while. Hasn’t made a jump in centuries. We’re lucky the Fallen haven’t completely picked it clean,” the ghost commented in surprise.

The man couldn’t help but wonder if there was a reason why the Fallen hadn’t touched it. Anxiousness set in as he considered it may not work.

“Will it fly?” he asked, sounding tired and sore after being shot several times.

The companion scanned the ship, checking for the parts required to make the journey. It then turned to face the guardian giving him a nod.

“I can make it work,” the robotic woman’s voice replied confidently. A wave of relief washed over the man as he watched his companion disappear into the machinery. Several seconds passed, and the delightful sound of a whine was heard as lights blinked into life. The engines groaned, but eventually spluttered into action. Flames blasting out of the back was apparently a good sign, and a dim orange glow danced on the wall behind it.

It was a shaky start, but the ship began to lift. Its hull creaked, complaining of having to move after being deathly still for so long. The guardian found himself sympathising with the ship…

After dropping a couple of feet, it finally stabilised and hovered. Its powerful downdraft kicked up dust and disturbed the small body of water below it, sending ripples to the outer edge.

The ghost’s voice projected as though it came through a radio again after it successfully started the ship. “Okay… It’s not going to break orbit, but it just might get us to the City.”

If the guardian was honest, anywhere sounded better than the Cosmodrome. He stepped back slightly as he watched the ship turn above him. Now it was in the air, it suddenly seemed so much bigger. He looked around to see if there was an obvious way of getting in. 

There wasn’t.

“Now - about that transmat…” his companion said as though it was trying to work out how to do it–

A growl came from behind the guardian causing him to turn to see a towering Fallen creature, far bigger than himself crawl out of a large hole in the wall.

“Ugh - you’ve got to be fu-” he began to groan indignantly but his ghost interrupted.

“Bringing you in!” it called out as the guardian dissolved into bright blue embers, transporting him into the ship.

The steady whine of the ship grew louder as it rose higher. The large Fallen creature began to look puny as they continued to climb.

“Let’s get you home,” the companion said with a soothing voice. It could tell its guardian’s mood was rather frayed.

The ship hightailed it out of the Cosmodrome. Its engines became two bright burning orbs in the sky as a strange hooded figure stood on the rooftop and watched it leave.

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this fic.

Next Chapter >

Buy me a coffee! (And gain access to my discord)

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks for reading! xx

[theroseceleste]

fanfic writing culture isn’t “oh dang! I wanted to write about this prompt with this character but someone else already wrote it, so now I can’t”.

fanfic writing culture is always “two cakes is better than one. the more the merrier. there can ever be enough fics of this character with this prompt!”

[theroseceleste]

Tis rather warm where I live right now, so I thought why not share a summer-y themed Spider HQ head canon! Enjoy!

[theroseceleste]

Pilot Miguel - Part 15 - Bonus Chapter

I received a request on AO3 for a bonus chapter shortly after I finished the Pilot Miguel series. So, here it is. It's a small chapter, but sweet nonetheless.

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MINORS DNI

Word count - 1807

If you don't want spoilers, don't read the contains bit below.

Contains : Descriptions of pregnancy and mild descriptions of birth (not over the top) Brief mention of sex during pregnancy.

Enjoy! xx

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks xx

Bright lights of green, red and white, paints an image of the runway of Nueva York airport at night. Miguel brings the Boeing-747 in to approach, nearing the end of a seven hour flight from Mexico. You’re not on his flight and he’s been away from you for a few days. To say that he’s missing you is an understatement.

Weather conditions are perfect, zero crosswinds, leading to a smooth landing.

After a short taxi to the terminal, Miguel begins his checklists with his co-pilot, Jessica Drew and updates the plane’s log book. Once everything is complete and switched off, he slides his phone out of his pocket and takes it out of airplane-mode.

There’s the usual routine of getting off the plane, ambling through the terminal to then join the queue of cabin crew to get through customs.

He ignores some admiring sideways glances at him from other cabin crew members as he minds his own business; staring ahead of him with a straight expression, thinking about you.

After handing over his passport to be checked, he’s given the all clear and is allowed to continue his way through the airport.

As he strides along the tiled flooring, pulling his small case behind him; his phone buzzes in his pocket a standard chiming ringtone pierces the air.

Sliding the phone out of his pocket again, he takes a look at the notification. It’s a text from you.

“It’s go time xx”

“Dios mio…” (my God) he mutters to himself as he hastily jabs in his reply to you.

“Just landed. On my way.”

His walking pace picks up dramatically as he stows his phone away again.

Miguel’s sleek white Tesla glides down the highway as he drives away from Nueva York airport. Instead of driving home however, he begins to follow signs for the hospital. His keen eyes dart left and right, driving as fast as he can without getting into trouble. Watching the flow of the traffic in front of him, making decisions on when’s best to change lanes to reduce having to slow down unnecessarily. He does however, make a quick pitstop to buy a couple of things from a store.

Thankfully at this time of night, the hospital's multi-storey car-park isn’t too busy and he’s able to find a space quickly enough. Shutting the trunk of his car, he carries in a bouquet of flowers and a bag of your favourite snacks and refreshments and a little something he’s had stashed in his boot for a while.

His heart is hammering in his chest. Your text scrolls up in his mind occasionally. It’s go time… he’s anxious and nervous, but most importantly, excited.

Signs hang from the ceiling of the hospital, his chocolate brown eyes scan each one, looking for directions for the maternity ward. You’re just about to have a baby. His baby…

He finds the right place and enters the private room he made sure you were going to get when it was time. Before even finding the room, he heard your groans and your well-practised breathing techniques to help cope with the contractions.

Your tired eyes widen and brighten up when you see your man enter the room. The beautiful bouquet of flowers in his arm catches your attention, before your gaze falls upon the bag of goodies.

Miguel beams down at you, pride swelling in his chest as he sees you being so brave. “I’m here now, mi amor,” he whispers to you and kisses you on your forehead before brushing some loose hair that is stuck to your face.

You already look tired and your contractions have only just started. The last three months of pregnancy have been hard. Your sweet, little bundle of joy has wriggled and rolled when you try sleeping. You know for sure they’ll have a future in soccer as they’ve kicked your bladder countless times and hard! Needless to say, you’re excited to meet them. Although your sleep might not be much better, at least you won’t be uncomfortable for much longer.

In the earlier stages of your pregnancy, it actually felt nice; having them roll about. Occasionally you’d give your baby bump a tiny little prod to reply to their movements. You’d giggle when Miguel would press his ear against your swollen belly and the baby would kick at him, making him pull away suddenly.

There were certainly fond memories of the both of you snuggling in bed as his large hand caresses your precious belly and smothering you with kisses.

And the sex… Oh boy… He fell apart every time he took you from behind and supported your baby bump. In fact, it drove you both wild.

Back in the present now, your hand squeezes his fingers as you ride out another wave of a contraction. Another pain-filled groan fills the air.

“That’s it (Y/N), you’re doing brilliantly,” a midwife tells you as she checks the monitor displaying the baby’s vitals.

Both you and Miguel decided you want it to be a surprise, another incentive to deliver your baby. Nine months of not knowing and trying to guess has been driving you nuts.

As the contractions come and go, Miguel is by your side. Mopping your brow, rubbing your back, and offering his sturdy hand for you to squeeze when you feel the undeniable pain coursing through you as you get closer to delivering your child.

He whispers soothing words of encouragement and praise, stroking your hair softly in those quiet times between contractions, wishing that he could take the pain away from you. It upset him watching you suffer, even though it was a lead-up to the momentous occasion of starting a little family.

You try different positions as you become more dilated, inching ever closer to meeting your special little one. In one instance, you stand as he supports you, allowing you to lean against him while you hold onto his broad shoulders. His hands rub soothingly over your back, holding you up while you let gravity assist you in delivery.

When it finally comes to pushing, Miguel’s support hasn’t wavered one bit. And when the first wails of a newborn baby fills the delivery room, he gives you a firm squeeze around your shoulders and a tender kiss on your forehead, praising you and worshipping you for being so brave and strong.

Peace descends upon your private room as your baby falls asleep in your arms with a belly full of milk. Such a perfect bundle of love wrapped up and cradled in your arms.

You feel Miguel’s eyes on you as he feels around inside the bag that he brought to the hospital, his fingers searching for something specific, but he can’t look away from you and the baby for one second.

“She’s got your cheekbones,” you say softly as you wiggle your finger while your daughter’s hand is wrapped firmly around it in her sleep. You never thought it was possible to feel this much love for such a tiny little thing, but there you are, feeling like your heart is going to burst as it is so full.

Miguel chuckles as his fingers finally find what they are looking for buried deep under energy bars, bottles of water and candy. “You think so?” he asks as he takes out the package. “Looks like we finally have a use for this now,” he says as he shows you what he brought to the hospital.

You gasp in surprise - quietly though, so as to not wake the baby.

Gleaming under the lights in your hospital room, is the clear plastic package holding the baby grow that Miguel bought all that time ago when you had your pregnancy scare. You’re not sure if it’s hormones or tiredness, but your eyes well up with happy tears and you cannot wait to see your little girl dressed in the cute suit with the wording ‘born to fly’ written on it.

The fact that he kept it and made sure he brought it with him on the day your little one arrived makes you love your man even more.

He sits beside you, making the mattress you’re lying on dip underneath his weight. “Thought of any names yet?” he asks as he places the baby clothes down on the bed between you two.

“Hmm,” you hum in contemplation as you think about any names that spring to mind. “Not yet. What about you?” you ask in return.

Miguel leans in closer, his index finger gently stroking his daughter’s little chubby cheek. “What about Gabriella?” he suggests. “Gabriel would love that, having a niece with a similar name. Might encourage him to visit the city a little more.”

A wider smile develops on your face as you think about it. “Yeah,” you reply. “I really like that. Gabriel would be the coolest uncle too, don’t you think?”

He chuckles warmly in response. “Oh, he sure would,” he replies as he nuzzles against the side of your head. “He’s been preparing for this day ever since I told him you were expecting.”

Miguel looks down at his little girl, his heart also bursting with pride and love. “The things that troublesome duo will get up to when she’s older. I’ll be having grey hairs before I’m supposed to.”

Now it is your turn to laugh, your little giggle makes baby Gabriella bob up and down in your arms, unfazed. “I’ll still love you, grey streaks and all, don’t worry.”

He leans in close again. “Good,” he says with a deep voice, vibrating in your ear before kissing your cheek.

The next day, you return home as a family of three. Throughout the day, you receive cards and phone calls from well-wishers and messages to congratulate you both. Some people even visit, dropping off food that they have prepared so you both can easily feed yourselves while you adjust to parenthood.

The flowers that Miguel bought you sit proudly in a glass vase in the living room. Their bright colours add to the homely atmosphere while you’re settled on your couch as you watch Miguel have his turn holding his daughter.

She is dressed in what you both agree on is your favourite baby grow of all time. She looks adorable cradled in his large arms, sound asleep, wrapped warmly in the little suit that he bought so long ago.

Miguel is absolutely besotted with her - and you. He always makes sure that you understand he appreciates you so wholeheartedly and values you both so very dearly.

You can tell that he is going to be the best father any daughter could ever ask for, and Gabriella is so lucky that she is the one who has him by her side, supporting her as she becomes her own person.

I hope you enjoyed the bonus chapter of Pilot Miguel. It was small, but I thought it was sweet to write.

Buy me a coffee! (And gain access to my discord)

[theroseceleste]

Tag list, anyone?

I've seen other fan fiction writers on here do tag lists for their followers. Would this be something my followers would like? Is there even a need for one?

I'm not sure, but please let me know by commenting on this post and I'll look into organising a tag list for anyone who is interested in being notified when I post new content.

Thanking you very muchly! xx

[theroseceleste]

A cheeky head canon that I made a little while ago. Made me chuckle when I wrote it.

[theroseceleste]

Vampire Miguel - Part 7 - Ashes to Ashes

It is time to face Morbius and end him once and for all. Will it be plain sailing, or will there be a rocky road ahead?

Please note - This is the end of season 1 of Vampire Miguel. I have interesting ideas for season 2, if people want more... Please let me know what you guys think? If I continue, I will be giving Vampire Miguel a little break, but he will return (if you want him to).

Buy me a coffee! (And gain access to my discord)

Minors DNI - Smut and descriptions of violence

Word count - 8410

If you don't want spoilers, avoid reading the contains section below.

Contains - Descriptive fight scenes, moderate descriptions of violence. Brief description of sex.

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks.

Thank you to those who have read and enjoyed Vampire Miguel so far. The likes and re-blogs are very much appreciated.

Enjoy xx

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6

It feels strange stepping out of Las Sombras. Over the last twenty-four hours, you have been ensconced underground, hidden away, safe from Morbius and his turned creatures of the night. You blink and squint as the daylight makes your pupils shrink, adjusting to the brighter light levels.

Leaving the security of the shelter was simultaneously daunting and refreshing. However, the fact that it was light outside gave you a bit of relief and an extra sense of security. Not to mention that inhaling the cool, crisp autumn air was very much needed. Certainly a lot fresher than the stuffy atmosphere underground.

Both you and Lyla make your way to the station in her car. Miguel strongly advised against either of you using public transport - just to be safe.

Under Hobie’s instruction, you and Lyla meet his contact outside the closest police station to Las Sombras.

At 10am sharp, he stands in his police uniform, wearing a specific scarf around his neck to help you differentiate him from his colleagues. You both were warned that he wouldn’t be sharing his name, but so long as you two can access the CCTV system, you and Lyla didn’t mind.

“I can only guarantee a small window of time for you to have access to this room. So if you can, be quick,” he mutters as he leads you through the station as swiftly as possible, carrying a cup of coffee and waves good morning to passing by fellow cops.

The officer opens the door to a small room equipped with a desk, a computer and a couple of chairs. “This machine is linked to the public CCTV network around Nueva York. If you have a rough area in the city you can start with, you should find the person you’re looking for,” he says as he shuts the door once all three of you have entered. “I’ll take the controls though,” he adds, taking one of the two seats.

Lyla gestures for you to take the other chair and she stands between you and Hobie’s contact.

“So, where am I starting?” he says, looking at you expectantly.

“You met Morbius the other day, didn’t you? Where was that?” Lyla asks, jogging your memory.

Your mind is blown away by the fact that you did indeed meet Morbius just five days ago. And since then, your life has been a dramatic rollercoaster. Your life has been in danger at least three times, you’ve learned how to shoot a gun, learned vampires exist and you’re now dating one - kind of - sleeping with him at the very least…

As you think, a sea of memories swells in your mind. Churning images as you summon snapshots of each one until you finally start remembering where you first met Morbius.

“In the subway, five days ago. Heading to Brooklyn station just before 9am,” you answer.

“Eastbound or westbound? I need to know which platform you arrived at,” the officer asks as he starts entering information into the system.

You had been coming from your place of work… well… your now ‘old’ place of work. “Westbound,” you answer, doing everything you can to stop feeling mad about Jameson.

Hobie’s contact pulls up the camera footage on the screen around the time you provided on the morning five days ago. Both you and Lyla lean forward slightly, as if it will help you spot yourself and Morbius quicker.

Watching the footage, you see Miles’s parents handing out their flyers. Your heart sinks with sadness and guilt now that you know about their son, but are unable to tell them or the police anything about it.

On the screen, lights emerge from the tunnel as the camera on the platform also watches over the tracks. You think this is your train pulling into the station.

Sure enough, you eventually spot yourself leaving a carriage with the beautiful man in tow, except his appearance was a total facade. A lie. A trick. You feel sick at the thought of what that man nearly did to you.

“There,” you point at the screen. “There he is. We need to see where he comes from and where he goes,” you instruct the officer.

He starts working backwards from that point on the CCTV footage. Following his every movement before he finds you on the train.

Obviously, because Morbius is a vampire, his activity lasts throughout the night. You all watch him hop about the city via the subway. Above ground, you observe him taking leisurely walks along busy streets.

Unfortunately for you, he does occasionally slip into alleyways where you suspect he knows he cannot be seen. God only knows what he’s doing, but he does re-emerge again, allowing the three of you to trace his movements even further back.

Footage from the evening before you met Morbius suggests that he stayed in an apartment block neighbouring a shopping and restaurant district all day. The entrance to the building shares the cover of a roof-like feature that also looms over the retail businesses and subway station.

Returning to the point in which you meet Morbius, the officer then follows the vampire’s movements through the subway CCTV network, bringing him full circle back to the very same apartment block.

“I bet that’s where he lives,” Lyla comments as she types the building’s address into her notes.

Fast forwarding on the footage shows Morbius repeatedly coming and going around sunrise and sundown. You presume he chose this specific apartment block because of the cover over the entrance, which buys him some wriggle-room to come and go when the sun is up if necessary.

“Yep; I’d say that’s where the guy lives. Is there anything else you need?” he asks before glancing up at the clock on the wall, checking to see how much time you have been in there.

Catching on to the officer’s awareness of the time, you and Lyla decide you have all the information you need.

The pair of you thank him for his help and promptly leave.

“So, Morbius lives in the Brooklyn shopping district?” Miguel asks as he looks up the address Lyla gave him that evening after all of the vampires wake up and get out of bed. “That’s not too far from here…” he mumbles pensively.

“Makes sense,” Lyla replies as she twirls some microwavable noodles around her fork. “The surrounding area is largely under cover. Fairly central too, with lots of nooks and crannies to hide in and feast on people,” she continues as she takes a mouthful of food.

Miguel couldn’t believe you and Lyla returned with an address for Morbius’s hiding place. His faith in CCTV is now largely improved because of it. There was an underlying sense of negativity that morning as he was falling off to sleep, feeling concerned over how successful the trip to the police station was going to be. There are still certain aspects of modern-day living that he still needs to have a better understanding of and the city’s extensive monitoring system is one of them.

“Now that we have a location, I need to tell you my plan on how we’re going to end Morbius,” he says as he joins everyone else in the communal area. The moment his words leave his mouth the group fall silent; anyone holding their phones puts them away in their pockets, looking as though they want to take part in this important discussion.

You sit beside Miguel, also noticing just how focused the rest of the vampires are, particularly the younger ones. Presumably because they had the most to lose being turned against their will. Their family, their education, and technically the future they had only just begun preparing themselves for. A chill runs down your spine knowing that the innocent youngsters look the most determined with the subject of revenge. But can you blame them?

“As vampires, we can sense others. So, stage one of the plan is to determine roughly where in the apartment building he stays. Myself and Lyla will go ahead early; with the use of sunscreen so I can travel during the day before he wakes up and leaves,” Miguel begins to draw up his plan, his mind putting together his ideas as if they are pieces of a puzzle.

Everyone is listening intently.

“Stage two; after finding his apartment, the rest of the vampires - who still want to be involved - will make their way to the confirmed location as soon as the sun sets,” he pauses for a moment before adding. “There is no shame in backing out. This could get dangerous real fast. Morbius isn’t afraid to use what harms vampires against us. This could result in any one of us being reduced to a pile of ash before the night is through.”

The silence that descends upon the shelter feels heavy with his serious words, his ruby-red eyes wander to each and every person who has said they want to be involved, but no one backs out.

“Stage three; once we’re all together, we barge in. If we make noise, then so be it. We want to catch Morbius unaware before he wakes up and then we end him,” Miguel’s voice carries an air of finality as he speaks.

Hobie, who sits next to Pav and Margot on a couch, leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “Tell us when, and consider it done,” he says with such confidence. All the others nod in agreement with the punk vampire.

“As soon as possible,” Miguel answers, “sundown tomorrow.” He has waited long enough to see the end of Morbius, he wants him gone at the earliest opportunity, for the sake of the city.

The following day, as the vampires sleep, you, Lyla and MJ talk amongst yourselves in the communal area. You watch Lyla pack a bag full of ammunition as there is an overwhelming sense of nervousness shared between all three of you.

It is agreed that MJ will stay in the shelter and keep MayDay safe. You have decided you will join the team of vampires as soon as the sky is dark enough to fly stealthily over Nueva York. Peter will fly holding onto you, making sure you stay with them and under their protection.

“How was Miguel this morning when he got into bed?” Lyla asks. There is no hint of cheeky suggestiveness in her voice. She knows the man is preparing himself for a fight. A fight that could cost him his life. And without him, there will be fewer good vampires to protect the city.

You want to say he was fine. But the way he held you close on the bed, his arms tight and tense to make sure you can’t get away, suggested otherwise. His kisses were plentiful but tender and full of meaning. The feeling of his lips against your skin took your breath away, his affection was his wordless way of saying goodbye if he was to never return.

Miguel continued kissing you, holding you, touching you until his eyes couldn’t remain open any longer, just the thought of it almost makes your eyes well with tears. You don’t want to lose him, but it is a necessary fight, you just hope he and his fellow vampires come out victorious. “He didn’t say much, but I could understand he was preparing for the worst,” you finally answer.

Lyla zips up her bag as MJ gives MayDay a slightly tighter squeeze while she chews on the corner of a child’s book.

“Peter was the same this morning. If Peter is subdued about something, you know it’s serious,” MJ speaks up, her voice sounding slightly shaky with emotion. Much like yourself, MJ is working hard to make peace with the fact that her loved one may not return.

You eventually stand after looking at the time on your phone. It won’t be long till you have to prepare Miguel for the evening ahead. “Gotta go and get Miguel up and slathered with suncream,” you announce, spurring Lyla to get up too.

“Right, while you do that, I’ll prepare a blood pack for Miguel, make sure he’s got enough energy,” she pauses halfway through heading into the kitchen. “MJ; will you be able to do the same for the others when they wake up?”

MJ looks up from MayDay’s book after opening it and reading it to her. “Oh yeah, sure,” she looks back down at the book and runs her fingers along the words, “Incy wincy spider…”

MJ’s words fade as you head back to Miguel’s room, your heart full of anxiousness and anticipation. Every step towards his room brings you closer to waking him up, bringing you closer to the moment he has to leave.

The smell of sunscreen hangs in the air as you step through the door and notice Miguel is already up and dressed.

“Oh,” you say in surprise as you close the door behind you. “You’re already up.”

Miguel approaches, dressed in black, a warm smile on his face - an expression you suspect is an attempt to stop you from worrying. “I just wanted to spend some extra time with you before I have to go,” he replies as he rests his large hands on your shoulders, his thumbs rubbing soothingly.

Like an anxious mother caring for her son, you zip up his jacket as if you believe it will provide him extra protection. “You sure you’ve got everything covered with the suncream, Miguel?” you ask as you smooth your hands over the leather.

He nods at you, feeling thankful that you’re there for him. “Yes, I’m sure. Thank you, mi dulzura,” he replies as his arms slowly wrap around you, holding you close. Long fingers tangle in your hair as he gently pulls to make you look up at him. “You take such good care of me,” his voice is merely above a whisper.

You feel heavy - relaxed - but heavy and woozy. So woozy that you fail to notice the significance of his eyes glowing. To you, they are just beacons, commanding your attention, something you have no trouble giving to him.

Miguel’s arms tighten around you as your legs start to lose strength. “I’m going to take care of you now,” he mumbles, but you don’t really notice the words, except for the vibrations in his chest soothing you.

Each blink gets longer as your eyelids feel heavier, the pounding of anxiousness in your heart has gone, you feel at peace and safe.

Now there’s weightlessness and the endless sea of darkness before you just after Miguel leans in to give you a tender, loving kiss…

“Y/N!” a young girl’s voice pierces the darkness in which you are unable to tell just how long you have been lost within. However, when you hear the voice call out again, it starts to sound clearer, and your body doesn’t quite feel so heavy.

You feel tremors happening occasionally each time this mysterious voice speaks.

“He’s done the same to Y/N, guys. She’s out cold,” the voice calls out again, sounding urgent and concerned which is starting to affect you.

Eventually, you realise the void shrouding you is a dreamless sleep, and the tremors are caused by someone trying to shake you awake.

Everything still seems heavy, but your limbs slowly feel as though life is coming back to them.

Sensing that you’re stirring, the person shakes you again, strengthening your connection with the waking world.

Finally, after a struggle, you prise your eyes open, your vision unfocused, making you see double.

“Y/N!” the voice calls out, which after several moments of heavy blinking, you come to recognise that it is Gwen that has been trying to rouse you. Soon after, you discover that she’s kneeling next to you on Miguel’s bed.

Your muscles reluctantly move as you try to sit up, Gwen gives you support, her hand resting on your shoulder.

“Where’s Miguel?” you ask, your voice hoarse from being in deep sleep. There’s a slight throbbing in your head as the final effects of the impromptu slumber wears off.

“We guess he’s taken off and left us all behind,” Peter suddenly speaks up, making you look around the room to find everyone also standing in Miguel’s private quarters.

“Dude thinks he’s some kind of hero,” Hobie grumbles as he stands there, arms folded, his face a picture of disappointment.

“I get you’re mad, Hobie. We all are to an extent,” Lyla interjects as she tries to squeeze through the crowd of vampires so she can be heard. “He thinks that he’s responsible for Morbius and doesn’t want anyone getting hurt or killed because of his mistake.”

The more people talk, the more awake you feel and your memory starts to return. “Miguel hypnotised me off to sleep, didn’t he?” you mutter, sounding slightly betrayed.

“He did it to Lyla, MJ and MayDay too, to make sure he could leave without anyone arguing against his own plans,” Peter wades back into the conversation.

A sense of hopelessness floods you, knowing that Miguel has gone to face this fight on his own. Either an exceedingly brave or foolish thing to do. “What do we do?” you ask, looking up at Lyla and Peter, the two other senior members of the group.

They glance at each other and give a nod before looking back at you.

“We continue with stage two of the original plan,” Lyla answers.

“Except, you and Lyla drive to the location while we fly. Both of you will be equipped with guns so you can protect yourselves,” Peter adds before looking at his phone. “It’s nearly sundown; we should get ready to go.”

It has been slow progress, but Miguel gradually zigzags his way up the staircase of the apartment block. Sweeping along every floor to detect any sign of Morbius.

He hates the fact that he hypnotised you and the other two human women to sleep in a bid to slow the rest of the vampires down. He knows you all will be mad at him, but it is for the best - in his opinion. He can take Morbius out, and everyone is safe.

Under his jacket is a holster and a sheath carrying a gun loaded with silver bullets along with a silver knife. Two weapons are better just in case the one fails.

He gives a polite nod to other residents as he passes them in the corridors while his senses stretch as wide as they can, like feelers to pick up any trace of the evil vampire.

Stepping onto the next floor, his brows furrow as he picks something up - a mental signature of another vampire nearby, and it feels exceedingly familiar. He just hopes that Morbius isn’t awake to detect Miguel. Unfortunately for him, however, it has taken him far longer than he anticipated. But knowing that he is knee-deep in his own plan, he might as well continue to locate Morbius and try to put an end to him. Hopefully, by the time the rest will inevitably show up, Morbius will be nothing but a bad memory.

Miguel’s senses tell him that his long-lasting enemy is on the same floor as him. He hovers by each door, his hands casually nestled in his jeans pockets while he listens, feels and sniffs with his abilities for Morbius.

He finally finds a door that causes his vampiric senses to fire on all cylinders. Alarm bells, whistles, and flashing lights explode in his mind as he looks at the door in question.

A tentative listen through the thick wood doesn’t betray much as to what’s going on inside, but he knows Morbius is there.

Remembering that you zipped up his jacket, his hand slowly and quietly pulls it down until it hits the end, letting the leather garment open.

Feeling thankful once more that his dead heart isn’t hammering inside his chest, he focuses on the task at hand. Raising a leg, he delivers a powerful kick to the door, crunching the frame with the devastating blow.

Miguel moves quickly. Drawing his gun from the holster under his jacket, he enters the apartment.

Inside, it’s dark and silent. Curtains are drawn to keep the light out during the day, but the glow of the sun around the edges is almost nonexistent.

He stands in the open-plan kitchen and living room, poised to shoot anything that moves. His head turns left and right, his keen red eyes scanning his surroundings.

Two doors lead out of the kitchen area, one to his left and his right. One of these rooms could have Morbius sleeping within them - if the apartment door being kicked in didn’t wake him.

While holding the gun with one hand, the other reaches under his jacket for the silver blade as he stalks deeper into the apartment. He’s now prepared for long and short-range combat before turning the door handle.

The door swings open, revealing a tiled bathroom and sadly, not a slumbering vampire.

Suddenly, in his mind, he feels movement behind him. Miguel spins around, taking a rushed aim and firing just before he’s struck heavily with a gnarled fist in the face. The bullet lodges itself into the wall across the kitchen.

Despite reeling from the blow, Miguel slashes with the blade with unfocused vision, luckily snagging it on his attacker’s arm. A shrill, monstrous scream fills the air as the metal burns the vampire’s flesh.

Time is of the essence. He can still only sense one vampire; he’s certain that it’s Morbius that he’s facing.

His right hand presses forward, aiming the gun at where he thinks is the heart of his enemy. He wishes that his vision would clear more quickly. The kind of punch he took would have killed a human outright; it was bound to take a moment or two to recover fully. This does tell Miguel one thing however: Morbius is even stronger than the last time they fought…

Before he can pull the trigger again, a wing shoots out from Morbius’s back, shunting Miguel deeper into the bathroom. The gun and the silver blade fall to the floor with a loud clatter.

He soars backwards, hitting and denting the wall behind him, and then collapses into a bathtub as dust and cracked tiles fall on top.

After recovering from being sliced by the knife, Morbius stops applying pressure on his now healed wound and rushes forward to snatch up the dropped weapon, raising it to strike back.

Looking like a deer caught in headlights, frozen in surprise and fear, Miguel’s mind begins to frantically search for a solution.

As Morbius plunges the blade down towards his victim, the tables turn. It is now he that is shrouded in whirling black mist. Morbius may have managed to stab Miguel before, but this time, his foe is armed with the same trick he usually plays. The bath is now empty, except for the knife wedged firmly through the plastic.  

More mist materialises from behind Morbius followed by a hard kick and a grunt sends him crashing into the tub.

Wrenching the shower head from the wall, Miguel turns on the water at full flow. A hateful expression is plastered across his face, his fangs bared threateningly as he aims it down on his enemy.

The bathroom fills with Morbius’s screams of agony as he’s doused with rushing water, the sound makes the corners of Miguel’s lips slowly tug upwards into an evil grin. He watches with glee as his enemy curls up in a defensive ball, steam rising from his body as his flesh burns and stings.

Keeping the shower head trained on him, Miguel reaches down to the floor to pick up the gun. As fun torturing his enemy may be, he cannot lose sight of what he came here for.

The soaked and scalding situation Morbius has found himself in is not lost on him. Once again, Miguel has managed to debilitate him with the use of flowing water. Only this time, it doesn’t quite match the torrent of a fast-flowing river.

Old, ripped wings burst out and wrap around Morbius and burn as they protect his body, buying him time to summon the energy to vanish.

“No!” Miguel yells as he stands up straight again, taking a potshot at Morbius out of desperation. Another loud crack fills the air as the bullet soars through another bout of black mist and punches a hole through the tub instead.

Tossing the shower head into the bath, Miguel picks up the knife from the tub and storms out of the room, not giving a damn that he has left the water running.

Morbius’s presence feels strong. He’s still close by.

The kitchen is empty, which only leaves Morbius’s bedroom behind the remaining door in the apartment.

Hasty footsteps thunder across the floor as Miguel charges into the last room, sending the door swinging off of its hinges.

A brilliant purple light immediately floods the room, making him instinctively flinch, expecting to feel the skin on his face and hands burn. Clearly this is a trap set by Morbius if anything like this was to happen.

When Miguel notices the distinct lack of agony when the UV rays don’t burn him, he lets out a cruel laugh. Once again, sunscreen has proven itself useful.

Drunk on the feeling of having an advantage over Morbius, he vanishes and reappears behind the bright UV lamp where his foe hides.

Planting his booted foot against the still soaked vampire, he shoves him backwards into a dresser, making it thud loudly against the wall. “That won’t work on me today, Morbius,” he growls with a victorious grin as he raises his gun.

Despite the UV light not paying off, Morbius did not show fear - in fact, he wears an expression more like annoyance and irritation.

Without further deliberation, Miguel pulls the trigger only for it to click uselessly in his hand as the mechanism inside jams.

His stomach lurches like he has mis-stepped going down the stairs, the perfect moment to kill Morbius slipping out of his clutches. “FUCK!” he yells as he pulls the trigger again, willing for the firing pin to hit the cartridge inside.

Realising his time is not over yet, Morbius lashes out, grabs the support of the UV light and takes a violent swing as he stands back up abruptly. The collision knocking Miguel backwards, his head recoiling sharply before he collapses onto the bed. The furniture cracks loudly, the impact of the giant falling onto it causing the structure underneath the mattress to buckle.

Tossing the light aside, Morbius clambers on top of Miguel, using his clawed spindly fingers to prise the weapons from his hands. The gun is now useless, but the knife is still a threat - but could also be useful, depending on who’s on the receiving end.

A battle of strength ensues as the pair struggle to turn the blade towards the other. Fangs bared, the both of them snarl as the red in their eyes flash dangerously.

The tip of the knife inches closer to Miguel’s chest. His shuddering hands grip onto Morbius’s wrists, desperate to hold him back.

With a roar of sheer power, he manages to roll the deceptively strong, evil vampire onto his back, making an effort to turn the blade towards his enemy with one hand while the other punches hard against his face; payback for the dirty UV light move.

The knife slowly turns, twisting downwards towards Morbius’s chest, suspended above him tauntingly. The punch weakened his arms as he felt his cheekbone smash under the devastating force of Miguel’s fist.

A look of hesitation flashes across Morbius’s face, he’s once again on the losing side as he tries to push back the knife that is hanging perilously close above his dead heart.

Another swift punch comes from Miguel, his enemy catching on that each blow makes the knife drop an inch closer.

It is like Miguel can see the cogs turning in Morbius’s mind. “Don’t you dare!” he hisses as he pushes harder, every muscle tensing. The look on his enemy’s terrifying face tells him he’s desperately considering vanishing.

With the extra effort, a pin-pricking sensation is felt through his clothes, starting to bite into his skin and burn immensely. One more hard push and he’ll be a pile of ash.

Knowing that he will surely lose in this position, Morbius retreats. Black mist engulfs Miguel as the knife plummets into the mattress, slicing cleanly through the sheets.

Angry red pierces the darkness in Morbius’s room. Miguel is beyond seething. Without giving himself any time to think, he vanishes too, bursting in and out of existence around the building until he can lock onto his enemy.

His senses tell him Morbius is on the roof. Black mist swirls and licks around his incensed form as he materialises and clocks his foe taking flight.

Wings sprout from his back, beating the air, sending Miguel soaring into the night. With his bat-like appendages in much better condition in comparison to his enemy’s, he catches up with just a few well-timed flaps.

Sharp claws grapple onto Morbius’s ankle and pull him down to Miguel’s level. A mid-air clash begins against the inky-black sky while crowds of civilians amble from shop to shop below.

The airborne skirmish halts when Miguel seizes Mobrius’s neck, his extended claws slice into his foe’s flesh as his fingers squeeze hard.

Yells of agony from the evil vampire echo between the buildings in the shopping district making shoppers below look upwards and gasp and scream.

Miguel tuts with frustration; he did not want an audience, but there is no point crying over spilt milk. There are more important matters to tend to: killing Morbius.

He’s got his enemy right where he wants him, now’s the time to strike while the iron is hot. But his eyes widen when his free hand clasps around nothing above the sheath, realising that in his hurry to locate Morbius, he left the knife firmly wedged into the bed in the vampire’s apartment. He has made a monumental error, costing his revenge.

A dark chortle fills his ears, mixing in with more shrieks of panic and fear from below. “It appears you have made a mistake, Miguel,” Morbius growls before unleashing a heavy blow to Miguel’s face.

“Ah!” the failed hero’s head snaps to the side as he lets out a grunt and releases Morbius from his grip. The sudden pain in the side of his head makes his beating wings falter.

The pair drop lower towards the street below as pedestrians and shoppers scatter.

The tables have turned for Miguel. He was dealt the winning hand, armed with the element of surprise, a gun and a silver knife… and it has all been wasted by a moment of bad luck.

He kicks himself for trying to play the ultimate hero, to protect everyone and refusing to enlist the help he had at his disposal.

Morbius exacts his revenge by gripping Miguel’s neck, letting his claws now sink deep into his skin.

A growl turns into a yell of agony, before his enemy sends him hurtling down onto the concrete below; some lucky pedestrian just manages to get out of the way in time.

Upon impact, the concrete cracks and crumbles under Miguel’s sheer weight and the force with which he was thrown by Morbius. His back arches in pain as he lands awkwardly, knocking the wind out of him. His vision blurs as he bangs his head again so soon after the strike just a few moments ago.

Without a care in the world, unafraid of showing who he really is, Morbius lands on his feet, wings spread wide and the gnarled monster out on full display.

Civilians recoil with fear and disgust, but cannot bring themselves to run away, as if their sudden movement will make them a target.

The more daring amongst them reach for their pockets and pull out their phones, recording this spectacle from behind cover - if they could find any.

Walking coolly past just one of the few trees dotted along the paved walkway, Morbius takes hold of a branch, using his increased strength to wrench it from the trunk. A loud snap echoes between the front of the shops on either side of them.

“To think you offered yourself on a plate to me, makes this all the sweeter,” Morbius sneers, however there is a look of victory plastered all over his face as he looks down upon the dazed and agony-ridden Miguel.

Snapping off a bit of the branch in his hand, Morbius fashions a stake as he finally reaches Miguel. He sinks to his knees on top of the dazed vampire and places his weight on his enemy’s wings, wearing an expression of relief as if he has just completed a marathon.

This rivalry, two centuries long, is about to end finally. A costly mistake Morbius made is about to be righted.

He raises his arms, holding the stake above his head as Miguel struggles to see. The good vampire knows he’s in trouble but the splitting pain in his head renders him useless.

“You nearly bested me, I’ll give you that. But let’s be honest, I was always going to reign superior,” the blurry-looking Morbius hisses, although the red in his eyes are unmistakable.

In Miguel’s final moments, he thinks of you as he feels the position of Morbius’s body change suddenly. He can’t see what Morbius has in his hands, but he knows it isn’t good.

Everything Morbius has had to endure for two hundred years after nearly dying in the river, has been leading to this moment. His victory in the palm of his hand.

Morbius plunges the stake downwards towards Miguel’s heart…

A loud crack is followed by what feels like Morbius’s head splitting into two makes him stop and let out an anguished scream.

You have arrived on the scene just in the knick of time, carrying a baseball bat, followed by the others. Any second later, there would have been nothing but a pile of ash where Miguel lays now.

Seeing Miguel stuck, unable to defend himself flipped a switch in your head. Lyla had already provided you with the weapon concealed in her car, all you needed was motivation, and boy did you find it.

Before Morbius could kill your vampire boyfriend, you raced up to them undetected, and swung for your life - well, Miguel’s life.

The evil vampire scurries away, covering his caved head with his arms before taking off. A portion of the remaining observing civilians disperse away from him. You may not have vampiric strength but you caught him off guard and unprepared.

With slightly recovered vision, Miguel sits up and squints, recognising your scent immediately. “Y/N?!”

You look down at him and offer your hand to help him up. But you also have half a mind to bonk him on the head with the bat too.

To say that you’re mad at him is an understatement.

As Miguel slowly rises from the hole in the concrete, you watch the rest of the vampires descend upon Morbius like a hungry pack of wolves, with Hobie leading the charge, carrying his twin blades.

While a second vampiric skirmish begins, you hear Lyla’s voice yell at the members of the public, ordering them to leave and steer clear. Miguel breathes a sigh of relief when he starts to see the public come to their senses and move away.

“You good?” you ask Miguel as he rubs the back of his head, the remnants of his dazed state slowly slipping away.

“Yeah,” he answers as he watches the swarm of determined and angry vampires vanish and reappear in a cloud of swirling mist above.

You don’t want him to go, but you know he should. Your hand clutches his arm as you silently push him forward, but to your surprise, he stops and looks back at you.

He draws you in for a heartfelt kiss on your lips before he presses his forehead against yours and clasps your hands in his. “I’m sorry.”

Then, you feel his lips press against your forehead as he kisses you again before you feel his wings beat air at you.

As he takes flight, his regained vision allows him to lock onto the fight ahead. He hears Morbius’s howls of pain as everyone rips into him, throwing him between them like some vicious game of Pass the Parcel.

Every vampire Morbius had turned, that Miguel took under his wing, wanted a slice of revenge. He finally came to realise he couldn’t deny them that and assumed that all of them would be mad at him, and rightfully so.

But what matters now is seeing to it that Morbius does not escape tonight. His only way out of this is his ashes being scattered by the autumn breeze.

As you watch Miguel’s large form enter the fray, you soon realise some of Morbius’s cronies have finally come to his aid.

You hear a hiss behind you. Swiftly spinning around you gasp in shock as you see red eyes, sharp fangs and claws descend upon you before a shot rings out from behind. Their eyes go wide before they dissolve into ash.

Lyla approaches soon after, a smoking gun in her hand. “I think there’s more coming; here,” she says as she pulls out a second gun from her back pocket and hands it to you. “That bat won’t beat them all off.”

The baseball bat clatters against the concrete slab as you drop it, take the weapon and prime it.

“We need to stop as many as we can from helping Morbius in that fight. Looks like they’re giving him a good run-around,” Lyla continues as you see sudden movement behind her.

Raising your gun, you take aim and pull the trigger. The vampire's ashes fall at Lyla’s feet just as she turns to see what you shot at.

Back up in the air, the sound of gunshots reaches Miguel’s ears. He glances down towards the noise and can see more trouble is coming from under the cover over the shopping district; but it looks like you and Lyla have it handled, for now.

Worry mounts in his mind however. He doesn’t want you both to be overwhelmed but equally, he can’t let Morbius escape.

With the prolonged fighting, teleportation and use of vampiric strength, Miguel can sense Morbius’s energy dwindling. And if he can sense it, the others can too.

It is like there is an unspoken understanding between them all to tire him out completely, to make it certain that Morbius cannot get away.

Suddenly, a feminine scream catches his attention.

Looking around desperately to spot the source, he discovers Gwen had received a hard punch to the face, sending her plummeting towards the ground.

Both Miguel and Miles dive fast to catch her before he hears Hobie yell out his name and point at an escaping Morbius.

He stops and looks up. It seems Morbius is seizing an opportunity. Miguel cannot let him slip through his fingers again, knowing that Miles will continue to swoop low and save Gwen in a daring dive.

Hobie draws his blades as he flies after the weakened evil vampire. “Catch!” he shouts as he hurls one blade far over Morbius’s head with great effort, the sharp metal glinting as it catches the moonlight with each revolution in the air.

Miguel knows exactly what Hobie has planned.

He vanishes in smoke, picturing exactly where he wants to be.

As the mist clears again, a terrified Morbius halts before him, tattered wings splaying wide to slow himself down.

Miguel raises his hand and expertly catches the blade’s handle before thrusting it forward into his enemy’s heart.

At the exact same time, Hobie teleports behind and stabs it into Morbius’s back.

The moment the silver blades connect in the middle, Morbius chokes and splutters, his red eyes fixed on Miguel’s, before his old enemy at long last disintegrates.

They did it. It’s over.

Miguel’s raised arm lowers as he starts to process what’s happened. It doesn’t seem real.

Ash swirls gracefully in the wind as it falls to the ground, scattering the remains of Morbius far and wide - not that Miguel particularly notices this.

He is so deep in his state of disbelief, that he doesn’t hear the cheers from the other vampires until his feet touch the ground and his wings stow away.

The silver blade slips from his loose fingers, clattering on the pavement as his eyes lock onto you.

It was you who flipped the fight back in his favour. It was you who saved his life.

He rushes to you, his arms scooping you up and holding you tightly against him.

Not a single word is uttered, but you know through his hold on you alone that he is truly grateful.

You return the embrace, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Of course you’re mad at what he did to you, but you’re certain he knows it and he’s already apologised.

If truth be told, he’s grateful for everyone. Everyone did their bit during the fight. If he hadn't been such a foolhardy man and had stuck to the original plan, the fight might have been over without any complications.

Now, everyone has landed and began to group up around the both of you. Peter and Hobie pat him heavily on the back while the younger vampires rejoice.

Miguel puts you back down as he watches a thunderous Lyla approach.

Back in the shelter, Lyla had been the calmest of all, even defending Miguel when others expressed their disappointment or anger over him leaving early.

But you find yourself shocked to witness Lyla lash out and hit her good friend. She is much smaller than Miguel, making her violent act look a little comical, but there was a nasty jab in her punch which connected with Miguel’s ribs.

“Oof!” he grunts in surprise, it didn’t particularly hurt.

“Why did you go and do that, you fool?!” she hisses as she now unleashes multiple strikes on him, one after another. “You nearly got yourself killed! How dare you send me to sleep! I’m gonna kick your fucking ass for that; just you wait!—“

Miguel simply allows Lyla to work out her frustrations until she dissolves into tears. Her hammering fists give up their abuse before slipping her arms around his waist and hugging him.

He pats her reassuringly on her shoulder as he gives everyone else an awkward look. “You can all beat me up later,” he says as a sniffling Lyla slowly pulls away before giving him one last well deserved whack.

Miguel sends the rest of the vampires back to the shelter, but he wants to keep you and Lyla with him while he returns to Morbius’s apartment.

Before Hobie left with the others, he told Miguel he called in a favour with his police friend again and promised there wouldn’t be repercussions with the law enforcement.

That was a load of weight off his mind. If things had gone his way, the killing of Morbius would have happened in the privacy of his apartment but, obviously things had to go wrong.

Entering the now deserted apartment, the faint sound of running water comes from the bathroom, reminding him that he left the shower running.

Lyla goes to turn it off, leaving you alone with Miguel.

You feel his fingers tentatively brush against yours, almost as if he wants to see how you are but is too scared to ask you, in case you go and do something similar to what Lyla did earlier.

To ease his concerns, your digits reply by hooking themselves around his while your thumb runs over his rigid knuckles. You feel him relax and relief at your touch.

The open-plan living room and kitchen looks relatively normal - nothing suspicious or interesting to note.

Miguel doesn’t exactly know what he’s looking for, but this is his only chance to explore his old enemy's home.

Lyla returns and the three of you enter Morbius’s bedroom. The light from the UV lamp shines up to the ceiling as it lays on the floor.

You flip the main light switch on, illuminating the entire room.

Your gaze falls onto the twisted bedsheets pinned down onto the mattress by a knife, telling you there was a close fight in here too.

While you’re preoccupied with the look of the bed, Miguel and Lyla observe the walls now that you all can see properly with the light on.

“What’s this?” Miguel asks, thinking out loud as he approaches a wall.

Both you and Lyla take a look, too.

Dozens of newspaper clippings are stuck to the wall with pins. Each one talking about the same man: Doctor Otto Octavius.

You wrack your brain, trying to think where you’ve heard that name before…

“Why was Morbius interested in a nuclear physicist?” Miguel mutters with confusion.

Nuclear physicist… “Oh!” you gasp when you remember.

Both Lyla and Miguel look at you.

“I wrote about him the other day,” you begin to explain. “He’s a nuclear physicist who is soon to win a Nobel Prize in physics. But not only does he specialise in nuclear physics, he has also dabbled with biology.”

Miguel is silent for a moment as he struggles to grasp the link.

“Perhaps…” Lyla joins in, “Morbius was starting to explore other avenues in his search for a cure?”

“You think Morbius was going to approach a scientist to help cure him?” Miguel questions Lyla before glancing up at the newspaper clippings again, searching for more clues.

“Well, his own theory never cured him. Perhaps he was considering going down a more scientific route?” Lyla responds as she looks up Doctor Octavius on her phone.

You gasp again as another thought enters your mind. “Morbius may not have had the chance to speak to Octavius, but you do.”

Your boyfriend glances at you suddenly. A glimmer of hope shines in his eyes. “You think I have a shot at getting rid of this curse?”

There is a moment of silence as you reconsider your thoughts, but eventually, you take his hand in yours. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

Miguel’s lips press into a thin line as he ponders a life free from vampirism. Could it be possible? You’re right though: he won’t know the answer unless he does something about it.

With a quiet nod, Miguel reaches up and rips every article of the scientist off the wall. Morbius won’t be needing them any longer…

Naturally, the news channels were abuzz with fresh claims of the existence of vampires over the next couple of days.

While the government works harder to quash the new videos surfacing on the internet of the final vampiric showdown, more and more people are starting to believe that they’re being lied to.

Some civilians naturally voiced their concerns, while others praised the vampire group for ridding Nueva York of what looked like a ghastly beast.

Alongside the newly surfaced videos came refreshed campaigns to continue the search for the missing youngsters.

A few people who watched these videos on V-Tube, the vampire channel on YouTube, claimed that they recognised their missing friends as those who took part in the vampiric battle.

Of course this development concerned Miguel most of all. But with the youngsters’ parents being given fresh hope that their kids are still in the city, you and Lyla convince him to release them.

Although, while doing so, he promises them all that the shelter of Las Sombras will always be open for them should they ever need it.

Now that the city is free from Morbius and peace has been restored, you decide to get back into work. It doesn’t take much for Lyla and Miguel to convince you to work for Las Sombras nightclub after reopening.

With the government still pissed at you for writing your open letter for the Daily Bugle, no other newspaper in Nueva York wants to hire you. But, you’re not too upset about it.

Working at the nightclub means you work with Lyla. The both of you get on amazingly well and act as partners in crime to tease Miguel. And, of course, you get to see your boyfriend too after he rises from his daily slumber.

Like every other new couple, you and Miguel are besotted with one another. Perhaps your bond together is stronger than most; probably due to the things you have been through together, and ultimately you let him feed from your neck, before he makes slow and tender love to you.

With an empty shelter, you and Miguel use every space available to express your intimate desires.

He takes you on the sofas in the communal area, on the kitchen counter and in the bath, giving you a new reason to start having more of them, especially when Miguel is involved.

Feeling the warm water hug around your body while you’re pressed against his makes you feel weak and soft like melting butter. And adding his face full of pleasure to the mix as you slowly ride him - being careful not to slosh the water over the sides and flood the bathroom, sends exquisite tingles spreading throughout your body.

Miguel has enjoyed a couple of months of well-earned peace. Aside from tending to his vampiric needs like sleeping during the day and feasting on blood, he has wanted to do very little with the subject of vampirism.

He simply wished to enjoy his time with you, beginning a new chapter in his life until he is struck with the unpleasant thought that he will end up watching you grow old if the both of you stay together.

Remembering that he watched his beloved daughter and brother be consumed by the passage of time, he realises that he cannot live through that again. And it is that realisation that makes him sit at his desk, open his drawer and take out the newspaper clippings. His red eyes repeatedly trace over Doctor Otto Octavius’s name, entertaining the idea that he may be able to provide a cure…

And that's season 1 wrapped folks! Now tell me, do you want another season? Lmk!

Vampire Miguel has surpassed Pilot Miguel in size, and I thought that series was huge! If you haven't read it, part 1 is here.

124 pages, 63,860 words and have been writing it since early September 2024. It has been an interesting journey to say the least, but has been a fun AU to explore!

Buy me a coffee! (And gain access to my discord)

Thank you to those who enjoyed the series. Likes, comments and re-blogs are always appreciated.

I have a different series in mind which is currently in the works, so stay tuned on my Twitter, or if you're in my discord, you'll hear progress on the new series there too. ;)

Love, Rose Celeste xx

[theroseceleste]

Wishing all of my buddies here a happy new year. May 2025 bring you peace, good health and prosperity. I cooked up a little head canon of Miguel and Y/N on New Years Eve. Enjoy xx

[theroseceleste]

Vampire Miguel - Part 6 - Now You See Me

The group of vampires work together to learn a new trick and there's trouble with the Daily Bugle, how will you negotiate it?

Minors DNI - Smut and descriptions of violence

Word count - 10,712

Contains - Confrontation with the boss. Smut - oral and penetrative sex

If you enjoy this work, please consider liking, commenting and re-blogging. Many thanks. xx

Enjoy xx

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5

Miguel observes you as you lay in his bed, a content smile spreads across his face as he admires how comfortable you look. You’re sleeping soundly after another passionate evening shared between the both of you. He loves how your hair splays around your head on his pillow, how his sheets cover your naked body, accentuating your curves.

You turn on your side, facing him while you sleep.

He should get up soon; he has to contact Peter and tell him what’s been happening. Parts of him consider having the family of three stay in the shelter too, just to make sure everyone he knows and cares about is safe.

He leans over you as gently as possible so as to not wake you and tenderly plant kisses down your arm before climbing off the bed.

Clothes are all over the floor, making him chuckle slightly as he remembers how the pair of you tried to subtly enter his room without the others noticing. The moment his door was shut, you both were all over each other, ripping clothes off and kissing passionately.

He finds some new clothing to wear and puts his worn clothes in his washing hamper. This evening, he chooses a red, long-sleeved shirt which hugs him in all the right places. Once fully dressed, he quietly opens the door and shuts it, leaving you to sleep on in peace.

As usual, the youngsters have taken root at the communal area, all except one. Miguel steps out of his room and watches in a bemused manner as Miles figures out he can scale the walls.

“Hey, check this out. I’m like a spider!” he chuckles as he manages to get a little higher. The others all lazily turn their heads up to observe Miles. 

“~Spider-Man, Spider-Man. Does whatever a spider can. 

Spins a web, any size. Catches thieves just like flies. 

Look out! Here comes Spider-Man,~”

Miles makes up a super hero theme tune on the spot as he keeps climbing while most of the other youngsters laugh. Hobie, on the other hand, lets out a friendly scoff. “Spider-Man? Sounds bonkers mate.”

Pavitr turns around fully on the couch, kneeling on the cushions to take a look at Miles. “Ohhh, imagine! Slinging webs, swinging between buildings; the sky’s the limit,” he speaks with wonder as he spreads his arms wide gesturing to the vastness of the city skyline.

A cushion goes soaring through the air and smacks the back of Pavitr’s head as Miles jumps back down to the floor.

“Hey! Who threw that?” he asks as he grabs the cushion and looks accusingly at Hobie, who then points at Peni idly playing on a handheld gaming device. “You could have messed up my amazing hair!” he tosses the cushion at Peni which flies directly into her face as she drops her game in her lap.

“ACK!” she yelps as she springs up onto the couch, ready to launch the cushion back at Pavitr. Unfortunately for her, Miguel intercepts by seizing it and raises it up in the air, making her dangle below, kicking wildly.

“Pav; it was Hobie. I saw him,” he says to intervene.

A light growl comes from Peni who wrenches the offending cushion out of Miguel’s grasp and takes a swing at Hobie.

“Tch; snitch!” he retorts as he takes cover from Peni’s onslaught of attacks. Miguel shrugs and heads into the kitchen, leaving them to it while all the others join in with the hilarity and chaos in the communal area.

Lyla turns around after loading the washing machine as she hears Miguel enter the kitchen. Then, she folds her arms and leans against the wall, observing Miguel as he grabs a blood pack out of the fridge. “So? Spill the beans,” she says as she raises an expectant eyebrow while a yelp followed by a crash is heard from outside in the communal area.

He looks at her quizzically as he tosses the pack on a glass plate and shuts it in the microwave. “What do you mean?” he asks as the drum in the washing machine starts to spin, joining in with the sound of the microwave heating his meal. A cushion flies past the kitchen door.

“What really happened at Y/N’s home? You sly dog,” she grins and wiggles her eyebrows.

Apart from the constant noise of the kitchen appliances and the hooliganism going on outside, silence falls between the pair. Miguel, too, folds his arms and sits on the counter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies coolly, doing his damndest not to appear flustered by dragging his phone out of his pocket to type a message to Peter.

A small fist bumps into Miguel’s arm, giving him a friendly nudge. “I saw you and Y/N sneaking into your room earlier. What happened in her apartment?” she grins.

“You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you can work it out,” Miguel sighs in defeat - the secret wasn’t going to remain one for long…

A shrill squeak of excitement erupts from Lyla which fills the tiny room before the microwave beeps. “~Miggy’s got a girlfriend!~” she grins and claps her hands together with glee.

Yanking the microwave door open, he takes out the plate and places it on the countertop to cool. “We’re not official or anything. I just really like her,” he admits as he finishes up messaging Peter and putting his phone back in his pocket.

“You really really like her though,” she grins again as now what seems to be a flurry of cushion feathers start fluttering into the kitchen.

Miguel’s gaze lowers as he presses his fingers against the pack of blood to feel how hot it is. “Yes, I do. Happy now?” he asks as he picks up his meal. “Go on; go to bed while I try to drink in peace - ‘try’ being the operative word with that rowdy lot outside…” he continues as he nods his head towards the communal area.

Lyla eyes the feathers scattered around on the floor. “They’re getting restless; being cooped up in here all the time,” she comments, sounding sympathetic. A frown spreads across her lips.

The vampire lets out a tired sigh. “I know, but here’s the safest place for them at the moment. Morbius is trying everything he can to get to me,” he pauses for a moment as he also looks at the feathers that have wafted into the kitchen. “I’ve told Peter to come here tonight, and instructed MJ and Mayday to travel here tomorrow during the day. I want everyone here where I can keep tabs on you all.”

His business partner nods in response. “Probably the smartest move,” she says as she stands up and unfolds her arms. With a wave of her hand she wishes Miguel good night and leaves the kitchen. “Right, which one of you rascals is buying a new cushion?”

You wake to feeling something much warmer than a blanket covering you. Before you open your eyes, you can tell Miguel has re-entered the room and climbed onto the bed. He nuzzles you gently and holds you close. A soft moan leaves your lips as you slip back into consciousness and nuzzle him back.

His chest is already bare. You can feel the warmth of his skin radiating against yours. It’s clear that he has had some blood to drink recently.

“Time to get up, mi dulzura,” he whispers to you, making you grumble and snuggle him more tightly.

“No…” you nuzzle against his thick neck, “just five more minutes…”

A faint smile spreads across his face. He wants to enjoy his time with you, however there is the underlying stress of what the new day will be bringing. “Okay, but you should get up soon,” he replies before delivering a tender kiss to the top of your head.

Begrudgingly, after a few minutes, you finally leave the bed, but you make the mistake of looking back at the beautiful man you’re abandoning under the sheets. Your heart flutters when you two lock eyes, as you consider maybe you can squeeze in a quick intimate and passionate moment before starting work. His body is simply irresistible… However, you fear that once you start, you will not be able to stop.

After getting dressed, you send a message to your boss to notify him that you’ll be working out of the office again. Then you sit back down on the bed, to give your new vampire lover a kiss before finding a quiet spot to work.

“Sweet dreams,” you whisper to him as your lips brush against his. Long, tanned fingers thread through strands of your hair as you feel his mouth respond to your light kisses.

“Have a good day, Y/N,” he whispers back.

The blissful moment shared between you both is suddenly rudely interrupted by your phone ringing. Looking at the screen, it says your boss is calling you. Perhaps his patience is wearing thin and wants you in the office.

You pick up your phone and answer it, feeling a slight pounding in your heart. “Morning Mr. Jameson,” you say, doing your best not to stutter.

“Y/N; care to tell me why there is a video of you on the internet opening fire at what looks to be a vampire? What’s going on? Explain; now.”

Miguel can immediately see that something is wrong. Your hands tremble so much that you nearly drop the phone.

“W-what?” you manage to choke out in surprise.

Your boss scoffs. “I know it’s you. That much is clear in the video.”

There’s a video? You ask yourself. How the hell do you negotiate this situation? “Mr. Jameson, I don’t know what video you’re referring to,” you ask, doing your best to sound as ignorant and innocent as possible, but your concerned gaze lands on Miguel, who’s eyes widen. After standing up from the bed, you search for your laptop in your bag with one hand while holding your phone to your ear.

“Oh, please, Y/N-”

“Send it to me,” you reply, sounding a little more commanding than you intended. Your laptop clacks down on Miguel’s desk before you open it and turn it on. The sound of the bed creaking tells you that Miguel is coming to take a look too, gathering his sheets around his hips.

“Alright…” Mr. Jameson replies, humouring you as you hear him type your email address and click send.

After your laptop boots up, you log in and immediately open your emails. Your boss’ email is sitting tauntingly at the very top of your inbox in large, bold, black text. A warm hand rests on your shoulder as you take a seat at the desk and open the email. Miguel, too, is very eager to see what this is all about.

You click on the link in the email from Mr. Jameson and it takes you to a YouTube channel called V-Tube. At first glance, it looks like a place that displays supposed proof that the creatures of the night exist. Except, in this case, the video in front of you is in fact, definite proof.

Silence falls on the line as you play the video. Sure enough, there you are, clinging onto Miguel on the back of a bike shooting at a winged creature. Thankfully, the camera angle doesn’t reveal Miguel’s face, but this does land you slap bang in the middle of a whole lot of trouble with your boss and potentially your job. There must have been a car that wasn’t involved in the chase, but a passenger within it witnessed the entire event and recorded it.

“Shit…” you hear Miguel mutter quietly behind you, he steps away and paces the room as he tries to think. Then, he grabs his phone and opens up a news app to check what’s being said there.

“Something’s going on, Y/N, and what I want to know is why aren’t you writing about this?”

You gulp. A lump has formed in your throat and doesn’t seem to want to go away.

“You’re not denying it then? Your involvement in this?” Mr. Jameson probes. How can you deny it? Your face is right there, in that video…

“I- last night I was out with my boyfriend,” you begin conjuring a lie; hopefully a believable one. Miguel turns to face you as you continue, partially because you called him your boyfriend. “We were attacked. I acted in self defence and I know nothing more about what we saw last night than you do.”

“Why would they be attacking you?” he asks, making you pause and panic.

“I don’t know. As far as I could see it was unprovoked. Perhaps a case of mistaken identity?”

Mr. Jameson sighs as he considers your words. He guesses what you said could be the truth… The brief silence is broken once more as he speaks. “Well, at least you’ve got something to write about. A perfect opportunity and your first hand experience will make an interesting read to say the least.”

Your heart lurches, of course he’s going to make that suggestion. “But I-“

“Not buts; I want you to write about this,” he growls as you swear you hear him hit his desk in frustration. “You can do some digging into these beasts too for future articles. Civilians need to know who they are truly residing with,” you hear a series of beeps in your ear coming from your phone, telling you that your boss has hung up. Your hand holding your mobile lowers as your eyes remain fixed on your laptop screen. What are you going to do?

Miguel comes over to see you again, still clutching his bed sheet around his hips. “What did he say?” he asks, his expression full of concern, eyebrows knitted together.

You turn back to look at him, your expression almost mirroring his. “Mr. Jameson wants me to write about what happened last night. Claiming that Nueva York citizens need to know about who else lives in the city,” you reply as you watch Miguel shake his head and turn away to begin pacing again.

“No. You’re not going to - you can’t.”

Placing your cell phone down on his desk, you stand up to meet him across the room. “I could warn the Daily Bugle readers about Morbius?” you offer as a suggestion but he looks back at you, his expression now looking more serious than concerned.

“And cause mass panic? Because that’s what your article will do,” he pauses before adding: “Or make them think you’re mad.”

“So, I just sit and do nothing?” you ask before you point at your laptop. “If I don’t write, I’m out of a job. Jameson has told me I have to write about last night,” as you speak, your voice cracks with emotion, concern and stress, desperate to find a middle ground that everyone can be happy with.

Miguel just simply looks at you, obstinate and resolute.

“You’ve said it yourself: Morbius is getting reckless. He wants to stop you from getting in his way. How far will he go to do that? How many people might die as collateral damage? People need to know,” you argue with passion, although you notice standing your ground against Miguel is actually rather frightening.

He stands silently for a moment before he looks away. “You’ll find another job, I’m sure,” his voice is barely above a whisper.

Your jaw drops at his response and your heart pounds. “That’s it?” you ask incredulously. “I’ll be forced to find another job because you say so?”

Miguel advances on you suddenly. “What’s going on is so much bigger than the Daily fucking Bugle!” he yells as one hand clasps your shoulder while the other remains on the sheet around his hips. “If you write anything to do with the existence of vampires, I promise you there will be pitchforks and lit torches before the day is done,” he gestures to his bedroom door. “Those kids out there, are under my protection. They are my responsibility. Even MayDay would be at risk - an infant!”

His words echo uncomfortably in your mind. You remember how he was treated when a small village found out about him being a vampire. How would an entire city respond? Or even potentially the world? It’s clear Miguel still has trouble with trusting humanity, and you can understand that whole-heartedly.

“What if Morbius doesn’t like what you write about vampires? You could be a target for a different reason other than simply being delectable. What if he targets the employees of the Daily Bugle in response? You want to risk that?” as he speaks, his eyes are wide, desperate to get his point across and for you to understand.

There is a moment where you both stare into each other’s eyes, passion burning brightly between you. As your heart pounds, your breathing quickens and your mind processing what feels like thousands of thoughts a minute.

“You think I’d be the only one writing about this?” you eventually ask as you rest your hand on his which still grips your shoulder. “Others will be looking at that video and writing about this for other newspapers. Whereas I was actually there,” you pause as Miguel pulls his hand away from your shoulder and sits down on the edge of his bed, resting his head in his hands.

“That video is out there for all to see. People know now, regardless of me writing or not-” Miguel looks up at you.

“Then why even bother?” he interjects.

You kneel down in front of him and grip his arms. “Because I can use my voice - or my words, in this case - for good!” you’re so desperate for him to see things from your side, you could shake him. “You should trust me not to write about the kids. I will only report on what is important and necessary.”

“People are going to believe whatever they want. If they want to believe that every vampire is dangerous that’s what they’re going to do,” his voice is low and resentful, but not towards you. You can guess he’s still hurting from the way he was treated all those years ago.

“Then I will feel glad that I have written about my first hand experience being with good vampires like you, who saved my life. I may not be able to convince everyone, but I have gained trust over the years of working for the Daily Bugle,” your hands squeeze his wrists slightly. “Let me use my influence to help sway people in your favour.”

For the first time in a few minutes, Miguel’s furrowed brows relax as a breath he didn’t know he was holding finally leaves his parted lips. He can see the determination in your eyes and it’s getting harder to argue against. Tiredness from a long night is making him cranky and maybe more liable to be uncooperative.

Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you into his embrace as he lays back on his bed. He kisses the top of your head before he speaks. “I’m sorry,” he begins as he tightens his grip on you. “Do what you need to do. All I ask is, can I see what you write before you submit it?”

That is a fair request. You are going to be writing about him after all. Supporting your weight with your hands on either side of his head, you look down at him. “Of course. I will start working on it right away,” you answer, before bending down slightly to kiss him back. “But you get some sleep first and I’ll show it to you when you wake up later before I email it to Mr. Jameson.”

“Okay, I’ll sleep,” he replies before pulling you in for another kiss.

He finally relinquishes you and gets under his covers, hiding his beautiful body away.

It’s hard, but you tear your eyes away from him and return to your laptop.

Giving it further thought, you decide to write an open letter as you worry sensationalising the situation might make it be taken less seriously. As you type, the sounds of your keys softly clicking on the keyboard lulls Miguel off into a deep and restful sleep.

Occasionally, you hear his soft snoring, sounding so peaceful and about the furthest away from being a threat to Nueva York as he can possibly get. You have to do him and most other vampires justice, for his sake and for the kids.

It takes a little while to compose everything you wish to say. Every word is carefully considered with the vampire’s best interests in mind.

In the afternoon, you take a break and speak with Lyla, who has spent most of the morning running errands and preparing the shelter for the arrival of MJ and MayDay.

It’s becoming abundantly clear that last night’s events scared Miguel. The fact he is calling in anyone who is associated with him shows that he thinks Morbius is a much bigger threat now than he ever was. If anything happens to anyone he has hidden away in this shelter, he most likely would never forgive himself. You know he holds himself responsible for not finishing Morbius off when he had the chance, and you suspect it eats away at him every single day.

During your break, you help set up a room for the family of three to share before MJ and MayDay arrive. You look forward to seeing that sweet little girl again; you’re certain she’s going to make living in the shelter much more entertaining.

By the time you are done with writing your open letter, Miguel stirs in his sleep, a soft groan comes out from a pile of pillows.

“Evening,” you call out as the mound under the blankets pillows wriggles. “I think I’m nearly done if you want to come and check it out.”

The sleepy monster finally rises from the land of slumber, stretching and yawning with dishevelled hair poking out in all angles. “Alright, I’m coming…” he replies, his voice sounding croaky as he emerges completely from under the blankets.

After getting some boxers and dark jeans on, he stands behind you, eager to read what you have written. The warmth of his chest beats down on you as he leans over to take a look.

“From The Horse's Mouth,

In the last twenty-four hours, a video has surfaced on the internet displaying winged creatures attacking me - yes, that’s right, me and a friend. I’m writing this to confirm that this is in fact true and not some kind of doctored footage. I am writing this to provide my story of what actually happened.

The truth is, I have very recently discovered that vampires do indeed exist. Just the other night, I found myself in the jaws - quite literally, of a vampire. That was until the man shown on the bike with me came to my rescue.

I went from living in complete ignorant bliss about vampires to being surrounded by them. Let me be crystal clear, I do not feel unsafe in their midst. In fact, they are simply humans who have recently been turned and wish to live in peace.

Just like humans, there are indeed bad vampires too. And I want to take this opportunity to warn as many as I can that there are several roaming the city. Following the orders of the one I was rescued from. His sights are set squarely on my hero, but I must stress that everyone must remain vigilant.

Do not engage with anyone you do not know more than you need to; no matter how charming they appear to be. If you have to be out at night, or travelling via the subway, be sure to have a trusted companion with you, or if that is not possible, stay away from quiet and secluded areas.

Stay safe.

Y/N, Daily Bugle”

As Miguel reads your open letter, a small smile spreads across his face. Relaxing over the fact you have written the vampires he is protecting in a good light. You are right. The cat is out of the bag, as he feared last night, and people will believe if this is real, or a hoax, or if vampires are good or bad. What you have written won’t make matters worse, but maybe help relieve the situation. And in doing so, you are keeping your boss happy too.

He pats your shoulder and then gives it a firm squeeze. “That sounds fine, Y/N. Thank you, and I’m sorry for being so stubborn with you this morning.”

Looking up at him, you spur him on to lean down and give you a kiss on the forehead. “It’s alright, I understand why you were reluctant,” you reply before looking back down at your screen and preparing it to be sent to Mr. Jameson.

The communal area has never looked so full. Twelve people are now living in the shelter and are in danger of completely cramming the couches. To allow people to spread out, Lyla and Miguel have dragged over some spare mattresses to provide extra sitting places.

On one sofa, you, Lyla and MJ all sit together eating a meal that was pre-prepared by MJ. On another couch, Gwen and Pavitr chat to one another animatedly, while Margo and Miles attempt to backseat game as they watch Peni play her gaming device on the third couch.

One of the mattresses in the communal area is littered with children’s toys as Peter plays with a wide-eyed MayDay. She giggles infectiously as her tower of stackable blocks falls down for the umpteenth time that evening.

In the corner, next to several crates, Hobie sits as he inspects the blades he acquired from the vampire he shot the night before. MJ had banished him there as she knew MayDay would likely want to get involved.

As he half unsheathes one of the swords, he hums the annoyingly catchy tune Miles came up with earlier as he scaled the walls.

The metal of the blade is indeed silver, and he makes a note to get hold of some leather gloves so he can handle them properly. For now though, they should be hidden away and out of reach from certain inquisitive little dhampirs…

As Miguel clears his throat to address the rest of the shelter’s occupants, Hobie struts past to put the weapons away in his shared room.

“Alright, listen up,” he starts as he speaks to everyone, but mostly the other vampires. He begins again when he has almost everyone’s attention. “In my recent run-ins with Morbius, his vampire-mist ability is proving killing him practically impossible. If I’m to learn how to do it and play him at his own game. I think you lot should too-”

“Vampire-mist?” Pavitr repeats in surprise, “we can do that?” he asks with intrigue and wonder as MayDay starts to fly away from Peter’s grasping hands.

Miguel nods. “If Morbius can do it, we can too. Just need to work out how,” he says, ducking out of the child’s flight path as her little wings carry her up to the ceiling behind him.

“Uh, MayDay, honey, come back down…” Peter calls out, his eyes fixed on his daughter as he gets up and scales the wall to reach her.

“What is it exactly?” Margo speaks up with interest as she nudges Peni to make her put her gaming device down.

Before Miguel answers, Hobie comes back out of his room and returns to the communal area, observing and smirking at the shenanigans between Peter and MayDay on the ceiling.

“It’s a form of teleportation. It’s an annoying habit of Morbius’s to use as a method of getting himself out of trouble. He’s engulfed by black mist before vanishing entirely,” he explains, trying hard not to sound too sore about his missed opportunity to kill Morbius two nights ago.

 “Sounds neat. But why do you want us to learn it too?” Miles asks as Gwen and Margo nod in agreement to his question.

“It’ll be beneficial to us all, for self-defence…” Miguel’s voice drones on as he answers Miles’ question.

At the same time, Peter scrabbles about on the ceiling as MayDay slips between his arms, swooping left and right. MJ squeals as she peeps through the gaps of her fingers, no longer paying attention to Miguel.

Peter manages to catch MayDay and triumphantly holds her below his head as he stands upside down from the ceiling. “Gotcha!”

Simultaneously, Miguel turns around wondering what the fuss is all about. His eyes go wide as he walks right into Peter’s face and their lips connect in an unexpected kiss...

Time seems to have frozen in that moment of shock. Both you and MJ nearly choke on your food as Lyla bursts out laughing with the rest of the vampires.

Miguel tears his face away from Peter, spluttering and wiping his mouth with the back of his hands. His wide red eyes twitch as a chorus of laughter behind him fills the long hallway of the abandoned train station.

Peter chuckles as he finally gets himself back onto the floor. “What? I’m not that bad of a kisser, am I?” he asks as he holds an excitedly babbling MayDay in his arms while MJ facepalms with embarrassment on the couch.

With a heavy sigh, Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose as Peter returns to the mattress.

“MJ, you like my kisses, right?” he asks as he sits back down.

“I do, but not everybody does, I’d expect,” she answers wryly.

Once the hilarity has died down, you, Lyla and MJ head to bed. As you enter Miguel’s room, he follows you and wraps you up in his embrace. His lips brush against yours tenderly and sweetly before capturing them completely.

Your hands splayed across his chest as your fingertips traverse over his defined torso.

Reluctantly, Miguel pulls away, ending the kiss before resting his forehead against yours. “I just wanted my last kiss of the day to be with you, mi dulzura,” he whispers as he nuzzles you, rubbing his nose against yours.

His words and his actions are so sweet and loving. It makes your heart flutter and you’re amazed that so much has changed between the both of you in such a short amount of time. Perhaps the drama you both have gone through together over the last forty-eight hours have brought you together and strengthened your bond so quickly.

You nuzzle him back before stealing another quick kiss but a bright smile shines across your face. A chuckle fills the room before you speak. “You haven’t kissed someone for two hundred years and now you’ve kissed two people in as many days.”

His hand taps you lightly on your rear as if it was aimed to be a little spank. Then, he holds you closer. “But you’re the only one who makes me hard.”

A sudden deep, hot pulse radiates from your core at his words. And sure enough, as he holds you close, you can feel him throbbing against you through his clothes. You bite your lip as you look up at him, making him smirk.

Miguel presses a tender kiss against your forehead as his hands gently rest on your shoulders. “Hmm… food for thought before you fall asleep?” he chuckles as you pout slightly. “I’ve got to concentrate on learning Morbius’s little trick.”

You relent and relax the pleading puppy-dog expression and trembling pout, as you understand that Miguel has more important things to focus on. Anything he can learn to improve his abilities as a vampire could make a vast difference to the outcome of their next inevitable clash.

Before wishing you goodnight, he buries his face against the crook of your neck and takes a deep breath. A contented sigh leaves his lips as your scent gives him a buzz of determination.

“So, how are we going to try and learn this vampire-mist thing when nobody here knows how to do it?” Miles asks once all vampires congregate back in the communal area.

Gwen contemplates for a moment as she sits back on a couch. “Maybe it’s a mental thing? Turning into mist when calm?” she offers as a suggestion.

“Morbius can do it when he’s about to be killed, I don’t think he’s calm all the time when he does it,” Miguel replies as he rests his hands on his hips.

Pavitr sits up from lazing on another couch. “It’s an act of necessity,” he says as if a lightbulb has just been switched on in his mind. “The need for self-preservation or to avoid a situation Morbius doesn’t want to be in triggers the ability.”

Everyone falls silent, considering Pavitr’s thinking out loud. A faint rumble can be heard in a neighbouring tunnel as a train passes through.

Hobie shrugs with folded arms, leaning against a wall. “Makes sense,” he says as his lazy gaze wanders over to Miguel who is still thinking.

“Oh! Gwen; throw a cushion at me!” Pavitr exclaims with urgency.

Miguel looks up. “It’s not time to screw around, guys,” he retorts, but as he speaks, he watches Gwen expertly sling a cushion through the air, directly at Pavitr’s face. And to his absolute surprise, Pav vanishes in a cloud of black mist and the cushion flies cleanly through it, landing among some crates behind the couch.

Everyone but Miguel throws their arms up in the air in shock and disbelief that it worked for Pavitr first time round. A loud chorus of stunned laughter and cheers fill the room before the young vampire steps out of his room and rejoins the excited crowd.

“H-How did you…?” Miguel asks with a bewildered expression on his face, a very slight twitch evident in his eye.

“Easy!” Pavitr replies as Hobie gives him a celebratory pat on the back. “I didn’t want the cushion to mess up my hair,” he answers as he runs his fingers through his voluminous black locks.

“Look at you; being smart and fashionable while you do it.” It is now Peter’s turn to clap Pavitr on the back before he faces Miguel. “Looks like we have our answer,” he says as the other vampires start pairing up to try and make the other vanish.

Along the stretch of subway station that once had a constant flow of people all day every day stands pairings of vampires, teaming up to learn this interesting trick. Miles partners up with Gwen, Hobie, with Pavitr, Margo, with Peni and finally Miguel stands before Peter.

They try throwing punches or kicks at each other to see if they can trigger the vampire-mist response. For some, it isn’t quite so easy to do.

“Come on, Miles. You can throw a harder punch than that,” Gwen goads as she dodges a feeble attack.

“I don’t like the idea of hitting you,” he grunts as he takes another reluctant swing. “Besides, you’re not meant to be dodging them!” Frustration rises within him as Gwen steps aside once more.

“As Pav says, it’s an ability used out of necessity,” she says as she blocks Miles’ punch and raises her own fist. “I haven’t needed to use it.” Her clenched hand swings fast, aiming right towards Miles’ face giving him no time to duck. His eyes widen as he yelps before he disappears and reappears behind Gwen who’s now enveloped in mist.

“You nearly hit me!” Miles exclaims in shock before he realises what he’s just accomplished. He steps forward and shoves at Gwen, springing her forward and almost stumbling headlong into a wall. However, she never hits it as she, too, bursts into mist and reappears safely standing upright next to Miles. The pair of them stare at each other in silent surprise.

After already mastering the technique, Pav spends more time focusing on getting Hobie to work it out. He squints cheekily as he plans his next steps of action. Instead of trying to fight Hobie, he hounds him with questions and compliments about his appearance. “You have an impressive collection of badges my guy,” he says as he reaches out to touch a badge that’s pinned firmly in the leather of his sleeveless-jacket.

A hand swiftly swipes away Pavitr’s hand. “Nah-ah; hands off bruv,” Hobie warns as he corrects his badge, twisting it so it’s just how he likes it.

Pav grins widely. He’s spotted a weakness. In a flurry of fast movements, he reaches for the several shiny objects adorning Hobie’s clothing. “How many do you have? What does this one say? Where did you get this one from? Does that say, PM can suck my d-“ (PM = Prime Minister) Pavitr suddenly chokes on swirling black mist as Hobie vanishes before throwing his arms in the air with joy.

It isn’t long afterwards that Margo and Peni both learn how to do it too. Miguel growls with irritation as he sees the six youngsters work it out while he still struggles with Peter. It seems he has the chattiest partner, having almost a full-blown conversation with himself about how adorable MayDay is between throwing punches at Miguel.

Frustration builds gradually as he understands the concept of what’s needed but he realises he’s hardwired into acting with physical self defence, overriding any urge to vanish. “GAH! For fuck sake; what’s the use?” he lashes out and kicks a crate.

Peter’s shoulders slump with disappointment as it seems Miguel wasn’t exactly listening to his talk about his daughter. “Relax, Miguel. It’ll come to you. Just keep trying.”

“Forget it!” he huffs, turning his back on the rest of the room, pinching the bridge of his nose.

As an awkward silence descends upon the room, Pavitr waves to Peter to get his attention and leans in to whisper in his ear. His instruction is met with a grin and a definite nod.

An arm rests on top of Miguel’s broad shoulders as a hand pats him. “Maybe just take a breather,” Peter says softly, as he leans in to kiss him.

Miguel’s eyes widen in panic at the sudden invasion of personal space and to his surprise, he finds himself in his own room in a blink of an eye. He has done it. A yell of elation nearly erupts from his lips, but he sees you, sleeping peacefully in his bed. Instead, he hears the other vampires cheer outside.

“Well done,” Peter says as he pats Miguel’s shoulder after he re-emerges from his room. “Don’t worry. No more unsolicited kisses from me; I promise.”

Miguel huffs with a slight smile of disbelief over his achievement. “Thanks,” he says. “Probably for the best,” he looks down at Peter. “Your turn to learn, now.”

Peter pulls his hand away from Miguel. “Me?” he laughs suddenly. “I learned that trick ages ago. Back when MJ nearly caught me doing something I shouldn’t have been.”

Miguel’s smile drops. “What?” he asks as he tilts his head questioningly, almost like a confused dog. “Y-You’ve known how to do it all along?”

A wide grin forms on Peter’s face. “Yep. But making everyone learn it from scratch has got the younger ones busy and focused on something other than being bored hooligans.”

Looking around the shelter, Miguel observes everyone standing and talking; not lounging around lazily on the communal couches. They all look animated, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

A smile spreads across Miguel’s lips as he understands Peter’s logic. “Fair enough. Thanks.”

For peace and quiet, he enters the kitchen and pulls out his phone to take a look at the news. It has now been over twenty-four hours since the news broke out with the video showing you both fleeing and shooting at beastly creatures. His large thumb brushes up his phone’s screen, scrolling for any update until a headline catches his attention.

“Government Officials Claim the Video is Fake.”

Of course the government would say that, but he can’t deny feeling a little more at ease about it. He hopes it will quell any nervousness amongst the citizens of Nueva York.

A soft nuzzling feeling against your neck slowly awakens you. Miguel is back in the bed, being big-spoon and holding you close. The warmth of his bare chest pressing against your back makes you feel safe and relaxed. He sniffs you before leaning his head against yours, letting out a contented sigh.

You raise your hand to cup his face that is next to yours, your fingertips nestling in his silky hair. “Good morning,” you say huskily as your throat tries to wake up from a night of snoring and deep breathing.

Miguel’s body presses against yours again, completely flush as his arms snake around you. “Morning,” he almost coos back, his breath brushing hotly over your ear.

“I didn’t feel you climb into bed,” you reply, your voice sounding a little more clear.

The feeling of his body clinging onto you like a limpet stuck on a rock on a beach makes you smile, if not turning you on slightly. You find it hard to resist pushing your rear back against his naked pelvis to tease him.

“Because I didn’t, mi dulzura,” he whispers as he thrusts his hips forwards slightly like he can read your mind.

It takes you a minute to work it out - mostly because his hips distract you - but finally the penny drops. Suddenly you turn to face him, your eyes wide. “You worked it out?” Your question is met with a small smile, carrying a hint of pride.

“Yes. Helped by an unusual method by Pavitr, but it did the trick.”

You throw your arms around him and roll him onto his back - a position he rather gladly accepts, his large hands resting on your hips. “Well done! I’m so pleased for you,” you say as you smother him with kisses all over his face before his lips catch yours.

Silence descends upon the room, only being broken by the faint sounds of your intimate moment or sweet moans between the two of you. The way his hands move over your body as he gently pushes his hips up against yours, slowly grinding his growing erection along your unclothed entrance.

Your brows furrow as your need for him skyrockets, and you tilt your hips for him to have an easier angle to enter you.

Another moan leaves your lips when you feel the head of his shaft breaching your slicked folds, squeezing past the tight ring.

Just as you’re about to take the plunge and sink down on him completely, the heat of your passion instantly plummets to subzero temperatures when you hear your phone buzz with an incoming call. You hesitate for a moment, your hips stuttering over Miguel, making him groan needily.

“Ignore it,” he grunts as he grabs your hips.

Looking at the screen, you see it’s your boss, making you pull away. “It’s Jameson…” you mumble nervously as you crawl along the bed, leaving an exceedingly horny Miguel behind you. He rolls over to his front on the bed with a groan of indignant protest and proceeds to grind against the mattress to alleviate his building arousal.

“Mr. Jameson?” you answer the call with mounting curiosity as you sit on the side of the bed, the cool air of Miguel’s room embracing you now you’re out from the covers and away from his body.

“Uh, morning, Y/N,” your boss responds, his usual pushy and demanding demeanour now replaced with something similar to nervousness and uncertainty. With the way he sounds, you get a clear image in your mind of him looking rather pale, as if he has seen a ghost.

You’re not sure how you feel about this change. While you’re not fond of his normal behaviour, this new one doesn’t exactly fill you with confidence either.

“Listen; I’m going to have to ask you to step down from writing for the Daily Bugle - just for a little while,” Mr. Jameson begins to explain.

An uncomfortable pounding in your chest starts after he speaks. “What? Why?” The tone of your voice makes Miguel look up at you with concern, forgetting how you just unintentionally blue balled him.

“It’s not my decision exactly-“ he tries to continue but you interrupt.

“What do you mean?”

“The government has asked me to suspend you for writing your open letter yesterday,” Jameson blurts out at you in response.

Your blood runs cold. The government is involved now? However your blood doesn’t run cold for long as you remember who pushed you to write the now seemingly offensive piece. It now feels like fire burning within your veins as you try to gather the right words to speak. “This… This isn’t fair, you-“

“It’s out of my hands, Y/N.”

“You told me to write it! Did you fail to mention that nugget of information to the government?”

“No- I-“ Jameson splutters.

“Just as I thought,” you snap back.

Only listening to half of the conversation, Miguel can still tell something is wrong, and when you mention the government, he starts to worry. Quickly, he peels his body off of the mattress and shuffles his way over to you to put a comforting arm around your shoulders.

“I know you’re mad-“ Mr. Jameson tries to placate the situation, but you’re now feeling unstoppable.

“Damn right, I’m mad! You played a part in this open letter too, but you don’t face suspension? How convenient,” as you speak, you find yourself surprised that you’re able to do this. You’d never say boo to a goose, but at this moment, you’re ripping into your boss, letting him have a piece of your mind. Confrontation and you don’t usually mix, and it becomes rather apparent as your body starts to shudder. Miguel feels it under his arm, spurring him to wrap it around you tighter, keeping you warm and strengthening your resolve.

Mr. Jameson has always been a bully. You told yourself that he was under pressure from higher-ups to keep his division of the Daily Bugle running like a well-oiled machine to excuse his shitty attitude towards you. But now, you’ve finally had enough of how he makes you feel when you work for him. This is the last straw.

“Watch your tone, Y/N,” Jameson’s demeanour seems to be shifting back to how he usually is with you, only serving to fuel the roaring fire within.

“You know what, Jameson? Fuck you. Fuck you and the Daily Bugle,” with that, you rip your phone away from your ear and jab angrily at the end call button on the screen, making a loud tap.

A wave of cold seems to wash over you again for a moment as the fire dies down inside. But you feel relief as Miguel scoops you up and places you in his lap, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

There is no need to ask what happened, he understood the gist of it, and hearing you say ‘fuck you’ to your boss and the company you work for pretty much sounds like you’ve just quit. “It’s okay,” he whispers to you as he rocks you back and forth in his arms.

“Is it?” you ask, your voice shaking slightly with the stress of the confrontation. “I’ve just thrown my job away because of my boss being a monumental d-”

“Oooookay, mi dulzura,” he interjects as he tightens his grip around you. “I know. But you’ll get back up on your feet. I’m sure you will. The Daily Bugle doesn’t deserve you,” his voice is soft and calming as his fingers thread through your hair. Every gentle stroke he gives you soothes the furnace inside.

Eventually, he feels you relax into his embrace, producing a contented smile on his face. He thinks to himself that the cuddle he has you locked in will be so much better for the both of you if you’re ensconced under his covers with him. It’s not like you have work to do today.

Gently, he lifts you back into bed and lays next to you. The warmth of his body mixes in with the duvet that he pulls it over you both.

Miguel’s words echo in your mind as he hides you away from the world. He’s right. The Daily Bugle doesn’t deserve you. You have no idea what you’ll do instead, but at least your sanity will no longer be tested on a daily basis working for a man like Jameson.

You feel so warm in the cocoon that is his arms and his duvet. It’s impossible to hide the smile on your face as you feel him nuzzling and kissing your cheek. And soon, your troubles are temporarily forgotten about as you feel his hand slither its way down your body, the warm pads of his middle and fourth fingers gently running tight circles on your clit.

A gasp escapes your parted lips as his tender stroking re-awakens your core. The heat of mounting arousal spreads throughout your body in pulses with every revolution of his fingers.

Eventually, he feels moisture at the trough of every circular stroke, lubricating his touch, letting his digits slide over your sensitive bud.

You mewl needily for more as your inner walls start to clamp on nothing. Your body, begging to be filled, craving him.

Miguel licks his lips as a thought crosses his mind. “I want to taste you, mi dulzura,” he whispers to you, spurring you to obediently tilt your head to one side before you even really think about it properly.

He shakes his head with a smile. “Not there,” he mumbles with a smirk. “Here,” Miguel’s fingers slip down from your clit, making you moan louder as he halts that sweet stimulation and slides inside you. “Damn, you’re so wet. Please, let me have a taste.”

Just the thought of having his head down there between your legs makes your heart flutter. Then you add the feeling that your mind can conjure of his tongue lapping at your entrance and flicking around your clit. On top of that, you imagine his moans as he hopefully enjoys the taste of you. Of course you’re not going to deny him that experience. You nod to give him the go ahead and you’re met with a seductive grin.

“I can’t wait to see if your arousal tastes as sweet as your blood,” he coos as he begins his descent down your body. His plump lips plant tender kisses along the way.

Miguel’s hands grip you under your thighs and open your legs wide for him, revealing such an enticing sight.

In no time at all, his mouth is now lavishing attention to your tender inner-thigh. This sensation alone is enough to drive you wild.

“So soft…” he purrs with delight. “I’d like to try feeding from here sometime…” he murmurs against your supple flesh as his lips travel higher to the tendon between your thigh and your heat. Light and gentle nibbles are felt along it, making you moan and writhe. How can something feel so good but equally unbearable?

Fingers dig into your flesh as Miguel holds your legs apart before you feel the delicate teasing from his tongue flicking and circling around your sensitive bud. He instantly moans as soon as his taste buds register your essence. The vibrations of his appreciation only serve to heighten your arousal.

He pauses momentarily, making you think he’s about to compliment your taste, but he doesn’t waste his time. Diving in completely, his lips and tongue attack your drenched folds before letting out an incredible groan. No compliments necessary. There is fervour behind his actions, acting as though he is a man starved.

Your fingers clench the bed sheets as Miguel continues his onslaught between your legs, alternating between lapping at your entrance and teasing your clit while moaning. Every time you wriggle and writhe, he fights you to keep you still. “M-Miguel~” you moan urgently as his time on your sensitive bud is starting to feel particularly exquisite.

Knowing that you can feel that tightening in your lower abdomen, he chases your climax down by latching onto your clit and teases it mercilessly. His tongue flicks and swirls around it as he starts to suck, making your back arch and cry out his name again.

To make sure there is no danger of him moving away, you release one of your hands off the bed sheet and grasp the locks of his slicked-back, dark-brown hair. “Yes…” you hiss with pleasure. “Like that, mhmmm…” you encourage him to keep going.

He nods between your legs, only adding to the stimulation, driving you even closer to your release. He can tell you’re approaching the edge, your body’s reaction is indication enough.

Miguel re-captures your swollen bundle of nerves with his lips after flicking it wildly with his tongue and groans deeply into your flesh for his one last bid to push you over the edge.

Your eyes roll to the top of your head, the moment your orgasm hits. A loud moan erupts from your parted lips as your body writhes uncontrollably under the strong influence of your pleasure.

He pushes on, continuing to lavish your throbbing clit with attention through your climax until your mewls turn into high-pitched squeals. And when he can sense that it’s too much for you, he releases you before eating you out once more, coating his tongue in your fresh wave of arousal, languidly lapping between your soaked folds.

“I could eat you out,” Miguel begins before licking at you hungrily again for a few seconds and pulls away once more, “all day, mi dulzura.”

He glances up at you while you pant and look a little dazed from the mind-blowing orgasm he has just put you through. A smirk spreads across his face. “But I need to feel you wrapped tightly around me too,” he crawls up the bed, over the top of you and nestles himself between your legs. “Is that what you want, too? To take me deep inside?”

Once again, the image his words paint in your mind makes you ripple beneath him. Your hips bucking upwards slightly, seeking penetration, searching for the warmth of his hardened length. “Yes, please…” you moan for him as your need to be stretched around his cock increases exponentially.

After two recent nights of intimacy between the both of you, Miguel has already grown accustomed to the sensation of making love with someone again - not like it was ever a problem for you in the first place.

His hand travels down between the both of you to get himself positioned at your entrance. The tip of his member glistens as his pre-cum mixes with your arousal while he teases it up and down between your folds.

Another uncontrollable buck of your hips briefly pushes him in further, making the both of you gasp and moan.

The helping hand now returns to the side of your head before he begins to bury himself inside while he watches you dissolve with pleasure again. His breath dances across your face as he sinks deeper and deeper until he bottoms out.

“You feel so damn good, mi dulzura…” Miguel grunts as he draws his hips back again before starting a steady rhythm of thrusts.

Miguel is by far the biggest you’ve ever had, and you feel so full with him inside, taking up every inch and stretching your walls around him. Not only does he feel incredible, he also looks good on top of you. His perfectly defined form flexing with every movement, and his stunning face etched in pleasure is just the perfect picture to be looking up at while your head is swimming in a haze.

With every strong pump of his hips, he drags his pelvis against yours, generating lusty moans and groans between the both of you.

You feel the sheet either side of your head crumple as he screws his hands into fists.

While you pant heavily, your left hand rises up to the back of his head, tugging at his hair, while your right caresses from his red spider tattoo on his neck down his chest, abs and finally coming to a rest on the small of his back. You feel how his hips thrust that extra bit further forward at the peak of each pump, making your jaw drop as the sensation gets you closer to losing your mind.

“Mhmmm…” you mewl between heavy breaths. He’s so deep inside you that it feels like his tip is kissing your cervix, making you yelp slightly with a little bit of pain mixing in with your irresistible pleasure.

“You like that, mi dulzura? You like how deep I am inside?” Miguel huffs as he maintains his movements, his heavily-lidded red eyes gaze down upon you. He feels your hand pulling him in more with each thrust, and he adds more emphasis and grins widely when he watches you melt further into his mattress.

Every thrust is attentive and fluid in motion, his rhythm is steady and resolute while his movements drive you closer to a second climax.

“I want to feel you clench on me,” he growls into your ear as he lowers his body closer to yours, turning up the heat between you several notches. “Come undone for me again, mi dulzura.”

His words make you feel like they have control over you, or you just simply enjoy him talking dirty while balls deep inside you. Encouraging you to fall over the edge for him. Every word, every syllable sends tingles around your body and winds an invisible key that tightens your walls, building up your next orgasm.

A triumphant smile spreads across his face as he feels that sensation for himself inside you. He can tell you’re close. Your breathing has become quicker and more shallow. “That’s it,” he pants more heavily, his breath hot against your cheek. “Let go, mi dulzura.”

Your back arches tremendously as your body ignites with pleasure for a second time that morning. The combined noises of your moans and his groans fill the air as you release together. Your low spirits certainly feel lifted after Miguel’s skillful treatment.

The pair of you lay together, still intertwined as the remnants of your shared climaxes slowly ebb away and the afterglow begins.

He kisses you tenderly while keeping you trapped below him. His lips wander slowly around your face until they finally meet yours. After pulling away again, he begins to mumble to you. “You are a smart, intelligent woman. Any new workplace should consider themselves lucky having you. I’m sure you’ll find something soon to replace the Daily Bugle,” his voice is soft as his breath plays across your skin.

You pull him close, letting his head rest on your chest, allowing him that sweet treat of him listening to your heart. He settles against you a little more, but is mindful not to squash you.

Before he falls asleep, he lets you go. Allowing you to get up and enjoy your day. Being trapped underneath a weighty vampire is only fun for a little while. Although, he would love to have you around him all the time as his sweet smelling and tasting human. You nourish him in not only your blood sometimes, but with affection and indulge him with experiences he thought he’d never experience again. To say that he thinks of you as a keeper, is an understatement.

The following evening, the vampires have arisen once again while you, Lyla and MJ wind down before bed time.

In hushed tones, Miguel and Peter speak to one another in a quieter part of the shelter.

“I’m telling you Miguel, I want to be involved in bringing Morbius down-”

“No. It’s too dangerous. It’s my fault he’s still around,” Miguel interjects, desperately trying to close off the subject.

Now armed with the vampire-mist ability, he has a much better chance at catching Morbius off guard and destroying him. He wants it to be swift and as subtle as possible. But first he has to draw up a plan.

Miguel thought it was a good idea to involve Peter with gathering ideas, but now a minor argument is unfolding instead.

“You’re not alone this time, Miguel. Stop acting like you have to be the one to fix this mess. In fact, if I asked everyone here, I bet they’d want a piece of Morbius too-”

“No!” Miguel snaps while maintaining a relatively quiet voice. “Don’t you dare ask them,” he hisses while he fruitlessly reaches out to grab Peter as he steps away.

“Hey guys,” he calls out, gathering everyone’s attention in the communal part of the shelter. “Who’s up for taking Morbius down?” he continues as he receives a heavy nudge from Miguel.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growls subtly to Peter.

Silence falls upon the old subway station as everyone looks at the two men. Finally, Hobie stands and straightens his leather jacket, his badges glinting under the light above. “Thought you’d never ask.”

After seeing Hobie go first, Gwen stands with him, her face full of determination. To Miguel’s surprise, he watches the entire collection of vampires stand until Peni makes a move.

“No, absolutely not. You’re just a child. In fact most of you are, technically. I can’t allow this,” Miguel shakes his head and starts to pace the room.

“All of us want a go at taking him down, Miguel,” Peter continues his argument, however he speaks in a more calm tone.

An exasperated huff leaves Miguel’s lips as his shoulders slump, his resolve is weakening. It seems arguing with the entire group is going to be an uphill battle. “Morbius is my responsibility-”

“Says who?” Peter retorts.

“He’s fucked all our lives up, man. We should get a say if we want to take part in makin’ sure he can’t destroy anyone else’s,” Hobie joins in, folding his arms, his expression stern. His response is met with nods of agreement from the other younger vampires.

Feeling the pressure mounting on him, Miguel finally folds. “Fine!” he throws his hands up in the air. “Fine, okay. You guys win.” A large hand runs through his hair as he continues to think. “But we need to find out some things. Firstly, where to find him and secondly, how to lure him out.”

Hobie’s hand goes straight for his jeans pocket to fish out his phone. “I can ask my connection with the cops to give us some access to the CCTV network? See if we can spot him movin’ about the city?”

Miguel rests his hands on his hips, deep in thought. “We could start there. Once we get his rough location, we can work out the rest.”

With a nod, Hobie looks down at his phone and starts tapping away, composing a message to his police contact.

“Lyla, Y/N; I’m going to need you both to investigate the CCTV system during the day. It’ll be safer that way,” Miguel’s command is met with Lyla’s salute and your nod. Now that you don’t have a job to go to anymore, you can dedicate more time to helping your new vampire friends.

A buzzing sound fills the air as Hobie receives a response from his friend. “Got a meeting set up with my contact tomorrow. 10am sound good?”

Both you and Lyla agree to the time of the meeting and you notice Miguel seems to relax a little more. A plan is starting to come together. There is a look of determination in his eyes. A drive to put an end to the beast once and for all.

Since Morbius’s return, Miguel has dreamed of releasing Nueva York from his clutches, and he cannot wait for the red of his foe’s eyes to dim before his body is turned into nothing but ash by his hand.

Thank you for reading part 6 of Vampire Miguel. I hope you are enjoying it so far.

Another 'thank you' this week to my brother who came up with the upside-down kiss suggestion which managed to fit perfectly with a scene I had in mind.

I will be starting part 7 in the coming days. Of course I will release it as soon as I am able.

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If you are interested in commissioning me, please click on the link below to find out more.

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[theroseceleste]

Birthday Commission - Toxic Love

@faretheeoscar very kindly did me some adorable artwork for my birthday, so when her birthday came around, I knew I had to write something for her. She gave me a little head canon prompt between her OC, Alexa, and Miguel and it was absolutely so much fun to write!

Buy me a coffee! (And gain access to my discord)

Minors DNI

Our loveable Spider Society leader is a naughty boy. Enjoys causing problems for Alexa, a spider person who helps out in HQ, and her boyfriend (a version of Peter from a different universe). When the couple fight, he reaps the benefits.

Word count - 3046

Contains - Descriptions of a toxic relationship. Smut - penetrative sex

If you enjoy this work, please consider liking, commenting and re-blogging. Many thanks. xx

(art provided to me by @faretheeoscar but masterfully created by Roy - @ SpicyKfcChicken on Twitter)

~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s the point, Alexa?” a hologram of Peter Parker from Earth-120703 yells at his on-off girlfriend, Alexa as she talks to him through her interdimensional watch. Once again, their love for each other is being severely tested by what Alexa thinks is the overzealous ban on travelling around the multiverse administered by Miguel. 

Tearful brown eyes stare back at the orange image of Peter, her brows furrowed with frustration and heartache. “No, Peter, we can… we can make this work, I-”

“No! I’m tired of this. The back and forth. The ups and downs - although it’s more downs than ups, at this rate,” Peter retorts angrily, although there’s more pain in his voice than he wants to let on.

Alexa shakes her head furiously, unable to accept that yet again another breakup between them is happening. It’s not fair. None of this is fair.

“Either get that control-freak Miguel to lift that stupid ban, or we’re done. I can’t do this any more,” the hologram vanishes, leaving Alexa in a shocked silence. Her manic gaze searches her private quarters for something to throw with frustrated anger.

Both Alexa and Peter know that Miguel won’t ever lift the ban. So in reality, his own ultimatum will only ever have one painful and upsetting outcome. God, that man makes her so angry. Her fingers clench as she considers wringing Miguel’s neck… That seems like a perfect idea... Why take her frustrations out on an inanimate object when she can do it to the source of her emotional turmoil instead?

All rational thinking has left the building as she storms through HQ with a face like thunder. White and light blue streaks across walkways as she weaves speedily between her countless multiversal counterparts, heading to the lab, where she bets any money that’s where he’ll be.

After ignoring several groups of Peters who wave at her as she passes, she approaches Miguel’s usual hideout.

“Whatcha doin’?” asks a female voice as a little hologram of a woman, positioned like she is lying on her stomach, appears next to Alexa, striding through the long corridor.

“Going to give Miguel a piece of my mind,” the youthful-looking woman growls angrily, fists still clenched. The closer she gets to the lab, more of her body feels tense. Her shoulders are raised and her heart pounds within her chest.

“Oh boy… the usual?” the hologram called Lyla asks as her position changes immediately to standing after the spider person’s answer.

“Yep,” Alexa snaps as she pushes through the door to Miguel’s lab. “Lock the door, Lyla.”

The floating AI salutes and fizzles away before activating the lock on all access points to the lab.

The Spider Society leader, a six-foot-nine-inch man, sits at a desk, working away on a device he has been developing. He sits in silence, so completely fixated on his work that he doesn’t even notice Alexa storming across the vast, cavernous workspace.

As he reaches for a screwdriver, Alexa fires a web at it and yanks it back, causing his large blue and red hand to clasp around nothing but air. The clattering sound of the tool makes him turn his head towards her. He stands up immediately, turning his body to face the Spider Society member.

“Alexa-“

“Shut up,” she growls as she shoves at him, shunting him against his desk, causing everything to wobble upon impact.

Miguel takes a step away before she tries again, hands raised placatingly. “Que pasa?” he manages to blurt out as he dodges another attempt of a shove.

“You know what,” Alexa retorts with a snap. The society leader’s heart pounds with anticipation. He does know, and he can’t wait for what it leads to.

“Chiquita, you know why I can’t lift the-“ he gets shoved again, but he lets it happen while his hands grasp at Alexa’s wrists, however she pulls back before he can.

“Don’t call me that,” she demands as she advances on Miguel again. She’s far too angry for any cute pet names - besides, they’re coming from the wrong man.

Finally, a series of flying fists barrage Miguel as a tearful Alexa finally explodes. Both of her clenched hands strike his broad and well defined chest.

“Lift that ban, or I swear to God I’ll-“

The towering leader’s arms wrap around her tightly, restricting her movements. He turns her so his front is pressed against her back as he leans down and whispers hotly into her ear. “Or you’ll what, chiquita?”

The sensation of his breath caressing the side of her face, mixed in with his proximity and restrictive grip on her, makes her pause and try very hard not to moan.

She hates him for the situation he’s put her in. His actions frustrates her and breaks her heart almost on a day-to-day basis because she can’t see the man she loves. While Miguel’s excuse is mostly valid, she knows there’s another agenda for keeping her close, under his watchful gaze. And once again, she’s fallen into his trap.

His arms snake around her body, holding her diagonally across her chest as well as her stomach. His left hand grips her right shoulder, while his right hand takes her left hip.

As her body moulds against his, she can feel his arousal making its presence known by throbbing against her rear.

Miguel’s hand resting on Alexa’s hip presses her against him more as he starts to grind himself into her. “Mhmm… but chiquita, you always enjoy this bit, don’t you?” he thrusts his hips again and groans into her ear, finally eliciting a moan from her parted lips. “Sí, that’s it, mi amor. Make those pretty noises for me.”

Alexa jabs her elbow into Miguel’s ribs, procuring a grunt to vibrate against her cheek. She can’t lose sight of her purpose for storming into the lab. Not again.

“That’s it. Take your frustrations out on me. I love it when you do. It’s so rewarding for the both of us,” he continues to encourage her, his words punctuated with a few more grinds against the groove of her backside.

What he’s doing doesn’t even make her feel good, but the mere fact that he’s doing it makes her hot - not just under her suit, but under her skin. Her core pulses wildly as she hears yet another deep moan against her ear.

“Tócate por mi,” (touch yourself, for me) he mumbles softly as his hands squeeze her in his grip.

Obediently, her hand slowly goes between her legs, her dainty fingers finding her sensitive bud through her suit. As she runs her digits in tight circles around her clit, she starts to moan louder. Her need increases, but so does her frustration.

“Good girl,” he growls as he grinds, before letting out a sudden grunt. “Ay coño!” his hip movements still for a moment. “This feels so good; I nearly came.”

Alexa whimpers with mounting need before she makes another desperate plea. “Miguel, please lift the ban-“

“No.”

Anger spikes again, momentarily breaking her out of her climbing arousal. In a sudden movement, she spins to face him. “Hijo de puta!” she spits as her seething brown eyes lock onto his red ones.

His arms tighten around her back, sealing her against him. He can feel the anger in her body and can practically taste the venom in the air coming from her beautiful lips.

There is now an unignorable throb against her stomach and an intense heat coming from the prominent bulge under his suit.

“Now, now, chiquita,” he coos as his right hand glides down her left ass cheek before gripping the underside of her hamstring and pulling her leg up so it hitches over his right hip. With a gentle lift, he has her pinned against his body, and her legs wrapped around his waist. And now the hypnotic throbbing is pressed against her entrance, but separated from one another by his and her suits.

“That’s better, mi amor,” he continues with a soft voice, edging between soothing and teasing.

Her expression is still etched with anger, but it’s slowly slipping away with his charm and the use of his body.

“Do you have anything else to get off your chest?” he asks as his large hand squeezes under her leg again, the tips of his fingers teasing the sensitive flesh of her thighs. “Or shall we both skip to the bit you know you enjoy?”

She slaps him across the cheek; not too hard, but enough to make his head jolt to the side as a grunt escapes his throat. His red eyes lock back onto Alexa as he bites his lower lip, displaying the tip of a fang. “You’re getting feistier… but I deserved that,” he grins.

Alexa lunges forward and wraps her arms around his neck. Her lips crash into his in a passionate and anger-fuelled kiss. Air hisses through their noses as the pair of them kiss, nip and suck on each other’s lips.

The hand that struck Miguel’s face slides into his hair, gripping it tightly as he does the same to her.

His actions are passionate and possessive while hers feel like she still has some anger to vent out of her system. She kisses harder - her bites are sharper and her grip is tighter, but he can take it. In fact, he likes it and welcomes it.

Miguel begins his grinding again, this time his efforts will directly contribute to making her feel good and most likely take her mind off Peter temporarily. He smiles proudly against her lips knowing her ban on travelling to Earth-120703 means Peter doesn’t get any action with his girlfriend, while Miguel gets it all. It’s glorious, satisfying and downright pleasurable.

Needy moans start to enter Miguel’s mouth, coming from Alexa’s lips. His grinding mixing in with their heated kiss is increasingly turning her on and driving her wild. She hates him, but it feels so good taking her frustrations out on him during passionate, verging on angry sex.

His left hand starts to unzip the back of her suit. All this teasing and her pent-up energy is making him impatient for her. He has been hoping Alexa and Peter would have another falling out as he has been desiring to fill her and feel her tight walls stretching around him once again.

The zip travels lower down her back, exposing her beautiful skin to his fleeting touches as he pulls it even further. She shivers in his grip and goosebumps rise on her flesh.

Their passionate kiss has not stopped for one second since it started. Her arms come free from the suit, followed by her gorgeously plump breasts that he can never get enough of.

Reluctantly, he gestures for her to release her grip on him with her legs in order to get the rest of the suit off. He often considers giving her a coded suit like his so it can fade away with ease and they can get down to business much quicker.

Finally that suit is off, and she’s back in his arms again. He carries her to the desk he was working on, and sits down on the chair with her on his lap.

His suit dissolves away, revealing his mouth-wateringly toned body and allowing them to feel each other’s skin properly, producing a moan from both of them.

Alexa gazes down at him, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Her legs straddle his lap as she watches him run his fist up and down his hardened shaft.

It’s sad that she knows Miguel’s body far more intimately than Peter’s. But she knows the sex she has with him is fulfilling.

“Ride me, chiquita. Ride me until you’re all spent,” he whispers, encouraging her to take her place over his cock.

Leaning further back in his chair, he slides his hips further forward, making it easier for her to get into position.

Long, tanned fingers reach upwards to tease her sensitive folds and to test them. She’s certainly ready as the tips of his fingers practically slide into her entrance. He loves how wet she gets for him.

Gazing up at her, he smirks as he watches her bite her lip at his touch between her legs. Her hands resting on his broad shoulders squeeze his muscles as she feels another wave of arousal drench his fingers.

“So wet… So ready for me…” he murmurs as he pulls his digits out and uses her arousal to coat his member, before directing her hips right above it. “Go on. Work out some of your frustration on that cock, chiquita.”

Oh, how she’d love to wipe that smirk off his face. Ride him hard until he begs her to stop, or the chair breaks. The thought of seeing him whimper as she rises and falls on him makes her even wetter.

With the help of his hands, he guides her down onto him. Her arousal ensures he glides in easily. Her breath hitches, which is a sight and sound he always loves to witness. Her body’s initial reaction to him invading her will never get old.

As he’s enjoying her sinking down onto him, she takes him by surprise by stopping, rising up until the tip nearly pops out of her heat, and then comes crashing down, burying him to the hilt.

“FUCK!” he shouts and grips the sides of his chair.

Alexa’s face was full of determination to ride him within an inch of his life. Her anger is still evident and desperate to be released before she goes insane.

The sound of skin slapping skin fills the air, mixing in with her moans and his grunts.

He fills her completely, making her begin to wonder how Peter would compare. But the thought hurts too much. To forget her on-off boyfriend temporarily, she rides harder and faster.

Large hands easily cup her breasts as he watches the sexy display before him. She has never bounced on his cock like this before, but he hopes she’ll do it again. He loves how hard and fast she’s going, and hearing her enjoy the way she’s riding him is pure perfection.

Miguel’s fingers pinch her nipples to see how she’ll react. She groans and tips her head back as she drops down on him harder. Then, he introduces a rolling motion between his fingers and thumbs which melts her even more.

The longer this continues, he notices her noises are sounding softer. All of her aggression is leaving her and she’s now simply riding him out of enjoyment. He feels slightly relieved as for a brief moment he thought he heard unhealthy creaking sounds coming from his chair.

To add to her pleasure, he releases one breast and brings his thumb to her clit as she continues to bounce on him. The pad of his digit runs tight and warm circles around it, making her moan more desperately as they both feel her tightening up inside.

“Come for me, chiquita. Let it all go for me,” he encourages her, feeling excited to experience her clenching on his member.

It doesn’t take much convincing for her to unravel. The entire lab fills with her squeals as she climaxes hard all over his cock. She clenched and pulses around his thick length filling her to capacity.

He pulls her close, her glistening, slightly sweaty skin sticks to his, emphasising just how hard she worked for that delightful orgasm. “Good girl,” he praises her as he strokes her curly brown hair. “Now it’s my turn,” he growls as he stands, lifting her up with him.

Miguel cradles her effortlessly with one arm as he swipes everything he was working on earlier off his desk, sending everything crashing to the floor. In his haste, he places her down unceremoniously on the table. He hears a slight “ooof” as she thuds against it.

A charming smile but laced with a bit of danger crosses his face as he enters her suddenly.

“M-Miguel!” Alexa squeals as she arches her back against the cold hard surface.

He smirks as he slams into her in a punishing rhythm, the desk now creaking unhealthily under his efforts. “Time to vent my frustrations, now,” he grunts as he thrusts harder. His hands grab the back of Alexa’s knees and push them as far back as he can.

“When will you realise that no matter how much you ask- Ffuuuck…” he groans with mounting pleasure. “The answer will always be no. Hmmmm…” Miguel screws his eyes shut as he bares his fangs.

Anger spikes in Alexa once more, but the near orgasmic look on his face distracts her.

“Why don’t you just accept that and have me all. The. Time. Instead?” Each word is punctuated with hard, punishing thrusts which meet with her howls.

“Tócate por mi, chiquita,” (touch yourself for me) he orders her, hoping to get one more climax out of her before he is done.

While one hand grips onto the edge of the table, her other hand makes its way to her sensitive bud. Miguel watches in delight as she obeys his command.

“Good girl,” he coos as he spreads her legs wider. “Fuck, you’re so tight!”

Another tightening sensation builds within her as she continues to touch herself and feel the head of his cock tease her g-spot. Her mewls become desperate as she gets closer and closer.

“That’s it, chiquita. Release everything you’ve got,” he growls as he nears his climax.

Alexa’s body writhes uncontrollably as she comes undone for the second time. Her screams and her body’s reaction to her orgasm generates a grin full of pride on his face.

“Sí, sí…” he grunts. “That’s it. Only I can give you the pleasure you need. You don’t need anyone else, mi amor!” Miguel’s body tenses at the end of his sentence as he explodes inside her. His seed spilling from his slit and filling her insides. “Fuck!”

He leans over her and rests his weight on his arms on either side. “You can either continue with your delusion that you and Peter can be together,” he pauses to catch his breath and nuzzle his sweaty face into hers. “Or you accept the truth and have me whenever, wherever you desire.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading Toxic Love. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it. I'm pleased to say that the birthday girl loved it too.

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[theroseceleste]

Vampire Miguel - Part 5 - A Goddess For Unworthy Eyes

Miguel has to make a request, but will you oblige?

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Minors DNI - Smut and descriptions of violence

Word count - 12,828

If you don't want spoilers, don't look at the 'contains' bit below.

Contains - Descriptions of violence (involving guns) and scenes that may be disturbing. Smut - Penetrative sex

If you enjoy this work, please consider liking, commenting and re-blogging. Many thanks xx

Enjoy xx

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4

You dump your bags on the floor, your mouth agape as you watch Miguel collapse. “Miguel?” you call out as you finally rush forward and crouch down next to him. “What’s going on? You’re clearly not fine.”

A grunt escapes his lips as he tries to sit up. It’s a hard task, but you manage to support him by wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

“I was trying to hold out on feeding until after we returned to the shelter. I could have used the supply we have there,” a look of regret flashes across his face as his red eyes nervously lock onto yours. “The fight and healing from my injuries has sapped more of my energy than I thought and I need to drink.”

Your heart pounds at his words, your eyes searching his expression to see if he was joking.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but I must ask you to help me,” he begins as he reaches out to you, his hand enveloping yours. “I need to drink from you…”

To your ever growing concern, it doesn’t look like he is joking at all. In fact he looks serious, yet reluctant.

As you try to decide, you help him to your couch so he could be comfortable. He has to feed to be able to return to the shelter. There’s absolutely no way he’ll be able to make it in this state. But that memory of Morbius the night before… how it hurt when he bit into you. It frightens you.

Miguel watches you through half-lidded eyes as you weigh up the options. He notices your look of concern. “I’ll be gentle and restrained. I won’t drink more than I need,” he explains in hope to sway you.

The weak giant takes up almost the entirety of your couch, apart from the space around his narrow hips where you perch yourself. You look at him, thinking about his promise of being gentle. “Alright. But if I say stop, you stop. Okay?”

Miguel nods as you set out your boundaries. He grips onto the back cushion of the sofa and pulls himself up to sitting, letting out a laboured grunt as he does so. His hand rests on your wrist. “Are you ready?”

His touch feels cold. Very much like Morbius when you shook hands with him yesterday morning. Your eyes remain locked on his, the red tint making your heart pound with anticipation. “What do I need to do?” you ask, your voice hoarse with increasing nerves.

A faint but reassuring smile begins to grow across his lips, with a hint of thankfulness too. He knows you have your reservations - quite understandably so - and he appreciates you allowing him to feed from you. An act he has only performed once before on Lyla. “Just relax,” he murmurs, “take a deep breath and stay calm,” he instructs you as you feel him peel the bandage on your neck off, making your body do the exact opposite.

“Tilt your head to your right,” Miguel whispers faintly.

You do as he asks while taking in a deep breath. You can’t believe you’re doing this. This is crazy. Madness, even.

With your neck nicely exposed for him, he leans in until you feel his breath dance across your skin. Your mind goes back to earlier this evening when you woke him up. The proximity of his large, domineering frame looming over you on his bed, and again right now as you sit together on your couch, makes you shudder with a feeling close to wanting or needing him.

He nuzzles against your neck, sniffing deeply, enjoying your scent. The sensitive skin of his lips searching for the warmest point on your neck. Surprisingly, you find that it feels good. Your eyes flutter closed at the sensation as your hands instinctively take hold of his shirt.

With Lyla, Miguel didn’t enjoy the experience of feeding from her. It was purely an act out of necessity. But in this moment, with you, it feels different. He remembers the night before, when he treated himself to smelling your neck, how he whimpered against your skin. He does everything in his dwindling power to not repeat such a noise.

You find the nuzzling almost affectionate - a sweet moment typically shared between two lovers. A different but much more preferred approach in comparison to Morbius. A shudder ripples through your body at the disturbing thought, making Miguel wrap his arms around you to keep you still. His grip is firm but gentle.

“Stay still, por favor…” he murmurs against your flesh before finding the best spot on your neck.

What you don’t expect when you know a vampire is about to feed from you is feeling his tongue glide across your skin. You liken it to a nurse wiping the area on your flesh to clean it before pushing in the needle.

Even your skin tastes good. His bushy brown eyebrows furrow as he lets out an uncontrollable moan and tightens his grip around you, but not in a way that worries you.

Then the moment you have been anticipating happens. His fangs finally break the skin, making you wince slightly. “Miguel!” you gasp, but your movement is dampened by his firm hold on you.

The very moment a drop of your blood lands on his tongue, he is unable to resist leaning further forward, tipping you back and cradling you while letting out a needy groan. His glowing red eyes flutter shut as he tastes the sweetest blood he has ever had. Holding back such noises are indeed harder than he anticipated.

The sharp sting on your neck dulls as he continues, and to your relief you start to feel relaxed before moving on to feeling heavy and fuzzy.

Miguel may sound eager, and he is clearly thoroughly enjoying his meal, but you can tell he’s being careful and gentle, like he promised.

You feel his powerful jaw working. Squeezing and flexing as he drinks, gulping down mouthfuls of your blood. Then, you notice his hands for the first time on your back. You know they’ve been there for a while, but they now feel warm and comforting. He grips you firmly, as you both sit on the couch together. The soft sounds of his whimpering continues, indicating something more like a growing need for something else…

Finally, Miguel releases you, but you get a sense of reluctance on his part. He moans softly as his tongue laps at your wound until the bleeding slows down to a stop. The languid workings of his mouth make your eyes flutter shut and your eyebrows knit together in what you think is... pleasure?

Cool air infiltrates between the two of you as he slowly pulls away, the change in temperature gradually stirring you out of an almost dream-like state. You watch him sucking his bottom lip, making sure that a single drop of your blood is not wasted.

As he sits up properly, his arms encircling you pulls you towards him again. Lost in a delicious daze, he presses his forehead against yours. “Thank you, Y/N,” he mumbles to you as you find him nuzzling your face. “Are you feeling okay?”

All you can feel after him feeding from you is a gentle throb on your neck, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. However you do notice, your surroundings spin, your fingers clasp onto his clothing tighter to tether you… “I think so. Perhaps a little dizzy,” you answer.

“Tell me; where is your first aid box?” he asks you softly, his arms remaining around you, keeping you steady. “Need to clean your bite,” he continues as he gently lowers you down, helping you lay back on the couch, before making a move to get off it himself.

“In the cupboard above the microwave,” you answer weakly as you watch him walk towards your kitchen in search of something to clean your wound with. His strides are much more sturdy and his skin has turned to that beautiful tanned colour once again.

If it wasn’t for the room spinning, you actually feel fairly pleasant - maybe a little weak, but there’s something rather relaxing about letting gravity pull you into the cushions of the sofa. Closing your eyes stopped the need to cling onto the furniture for dear life and the image of him nuzzling you replays in your mind.

Unlike with Morbius, you actually feel safe with Miguel. You’ve seen what he’s capable of. How vicious he can be when protecting someone he cares about. And now that he’s been rejuvenated by your blood, you suspect he’ll feel even more obligated to protect you - if you’re as tasty as he says you are...

As he potters around in your kitchen in search of your first aid kit, you continue to think about how he nuzzled you. It was like his feast made him happy, not just stronger. Just thinking about how it felt makes your heart pound even harder than it already is.

Finally, you sense him near you again as he kneels down beside the couch. You hear the zip of the first aid kit opening before the shuffling of the items inside as he searches for what he needs. He splits open a packet containing a wipe for cleaning wounds before you feel the coolness of the damp material glide over your skin, leaving a soothing, tingling trail.

You can tell he’s being very careful with you. Every touch is gentle and soft. Then, you hear him peel open a plaster before smoothing it over the bite.

It’s funny, you think to yourself, that in this mood, he has a very good bedside manner. And it feels like his feeding from you has put him in a much better state of mind. A little bit like how a hangry person is much happier after eating.

Finally, you open your eyes after resting them, and the room has stopped spinning, much to your relief. You’re alone again as Miguel has gone to return everything back to where he found things, but he soon comes back to kneeling next to you, like a loyal knight to his princess.

“I suggest we stay here tonight,” he begins as his serious face partially returns. “You’re weak and it’d be dangerous to have you on the back of the bike.”

A part of you feels relieved to hear that. There’s nothing quite like the comfort of your own bed, and you have access to proper food in your apartment. “What about you? What will you do when I sleep?” you ask as you turn onto your side to see him better.

The corners of his plump lips curl upwards into a soft smile as he looks down at you. “I’ll watch over you - make sure you are okay through the night.”

His words make your heart flutter. Knowing what this man is capable of, it feels nice having someone like him watching over you and looking after you, especially after the horrors you’ve seen in the last twenty-four hours.

Miguel’s expression turns into a pensive one as he starts to wonder. “Have you eaten today? I didn’t take too much blood from you. I can’t understand why you’re so woozy.”

As if on cue, your stomach rumbles as you’re reminded about food. Your hand rests on your middle as you look up at him feeling a little embarrassed. “Not really; there wasn’t much for humans to eat in the shelter,” you answer, hoping not to hear another rumble.

His warm hand wraps around yours. “Lyla will fix that now that she’s staying there for the foreseeable future,” he says softly to you. “Well, as a thank you, I’ll fix up some food for you - under your careful supervision of course.”

You sit on top of a counter as you instruct Miguel on where things are. He turns his nose up at your suggestion of a microwavable meal - he has a more nourishing dish in mind for you to have to help you regain your strength. “When was the last time you cooked?” you ask with an intrigued smile on your face as he collects a frying pan and inspects it.

“Longer than I care to admit,” he answers as he places the utensil on the hob. “But I’ve watched Lyla do it loads. How hard could it be?”

He prepares vegetables and potatoes for you before cracking open a couple of eggs and whisking them up in a glass bowl. You watch him navigate your kitchen, opening up several drawers or cupboards before finding the right equipment to cook you what you suspect is an omelette.

It’s hard not to laugh when he nearly singes his eyebrows off after turning the heat up too much on your hob before igniting the gas. A plume of flame erupts from the vent, making him flinch backwards in surprise. You slip off your countertop and turn down the dial to get it under control again.

“Hmm, Lyla’s one is different,” he mumbles, looking slightly confused as you let him take over again.

With a little bit of correction here and there, you steer him through cooking you a healthy meal. Overall, it was an admirable attempt for someone who hasn’t cooked for over two centuries.

Nestled back down on your couch, Miguel hands you your meal along with some cutlery, the delicious smell of your food wafting up into your face. “Smells good,” you compliment before tucking in.

“Hopefully it tastes as good as it smells,” he replies as he takes a seat on another sofa across from you.

You take in a mouthful of omelette, tasting the comforting combination of cooked egg, cheese and ham. “Mhmmm…” you sigh contentedly and sink back into the cushions. “That’s good.”

A look of pride washes over Miguel’s face as he hears you enjoy the food he cooked for you. While you eat, he pulls out his phone to text Lyla. He doesn’t want her to worry that the both of you haven’t returned to the shelter yet after the ‘errand’ you were supposed to run.

When Lyla replies, he double-takes at the screen. What was that supposed to mean? He often wonders what goes through that silly mind of hers.

As he stuffs his phone back into his pocket, his red eyes wander back over to you enjoying your meal. A smile returns to his face as he observes you eating, knowing that he did that for you. He knew that you had reservations and fears about being bitten, after what Morbius did to you, and yet, you pushed all that aside and helped him. An act he won’t forget any time soon.

“Do you miss it?” your sudden question pierces the silence that has fallen between the two of you.

Despite looking at you, Miguel realises he was in his own little world for a brief moment. He clears his throat and focuses on something else. “Miss what?” he asks, failing to keep his gaze off you for long.

“Food; do you miss eating things?” you clarify before taking another bite. The way he looked at you made you wonder and ask the question. A part of you feels bad for eating in front of him, especially if he missed the experience.

Miguel falls silent again as he ponders. Once more, his eyes move away from you. “I did, for quite some time,” he begins as he runs his fingers through his slicked back hair. “But now it’s mostly forgotten about. A part of me wants to eat to try and appear normal, but I no longer like the taste and can’t stomach it either.”

At least now you feel a little better about eating in front of him, but you find yourself curious over what else he misses about being a human. You go on to ask him before taking your final mouthful of your food.

Miguel leans back into the sofa, resting his head against the cushion, looking up at the ceiling as he thinks. ”I miss the warmth of the sun on my skin; the shade of bright blue in the sky and the sound of birds singing.”

As you listen to his answer, you’re struck with inspiration to try something with him tomorrow, but for now, you’ll continue to enjoy his company.

After some rest and a filling meal, you feel much better. Miguel watches you as you rise from your seat and return your plate to the kitchen. You make a mental note to never take the sun for granted again.

After a quick shower, you feel fully refreshed and ready for sleep in your cosy-looking pj’s. Stepping out of your bedroom and into the lounge you find Miguel idly scrolling on his phone before he looks up at you. He stands up and approaches.

“Are you ready to go to bed?” he asks you as he slides his phone back in his pocket, appreciating how comfortable you look. Then, he gives a gesture to direct you back into your room, but you pause with hesitation.

“You’re not really going to watch over me all night, are you?” you ask nervously. The prospect of you snoring in front of him puts you off the idea.

Miguel smiles at you - a look on his face that is fast becoming your favourite. “Not all night if you don’t want me to,” he answers as you do finally turn back towards your bedroom.

He pulls back your bedsheets. You’re reminded of how he looked when you woke him up earlier this evening, that memory mixing in with the whimpering sounds when he drank from you sends a hot flush running through you.

You climb into bed, but remain sitting as you keep your gaze on him. Your sheets suddenly feel tight across your lap as he sits down on the edge of the mattress, his eyes fixed on yours.

“Does my blood really taste as good as you say?” you ask with intrigue as you struggle to comprehend how such a thing can taste so good.

Miguel nods as he regards you sitting in your bed. You look comfortable and warm. Something he finds himself wishing to experience himself.

Because his body is normally cold, he doesn’t notice the cooler temperatures so much, but this means the warmth feels even more enticing.

“You are the sweetest I have ever tasted. Like a succulent peach, sweet and slightly tangy flavours that dance across my tongue with each mouthful,” his eyes close as he savours the memory in his mind. “You must have a rare blood type. MJ only brings the most common types to the shelter as there are more of them. You certainly are a treat I have never experienced before,” he continues as you spot his gaze lowering to your neck, mentally feasting on you.

“I think I could tell you enjoyed it,” you reply with a tiny smirk as you watch his red eyes lock back onto yours again.

At first, there was shock and surprise over you calling him out on him enjoying feeding from you. But now that he thinks about it, he guesses the noises he made gave the game away pretty quickly.

Drinking from people is a vampire trait he has done his best to ignore. Always striving to seek alternatives, to avoid being labelled as some bloodthirsty beast. But, with you tasting as good as you do, and if you trust him, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to resist the temptation if you happily offer to nourish him like you did today. Just the thought of burying his face into the crook of your neck excites him, in more ways than one - he has just discovered.

Miguel leans in closer towards you, the mattress shifting under his weight. “What if I did enjoy it?” he asks as he puts his hands either side of your legs to support himself. “How could I not?”

For the first time in two centuries, he feels a stirring between his legs. A feeling he thought he’d never experience again. The misery and unjustness of being forced into living an eternally dark life as a vampire puts a dampener on things like sexual urges. Even in more recent times, pretty girls hitting on him did absolutely nothing. And then you come along. Smelling and tasting so sweet and irresistible. You’ve awoken something in him and it’s fogging his mind.

His proximity sets your heart beating faster. Those intense red eyes searching your expression for signs of discomfort with him being so close. But when he sees none, he leans in further still, his lips hovering dangerously near yours.

“What are you doing to me, mi dulzura?” he whispers as you sense him rocking his hips, little do you know it is a feeble attempt to sate his rapidly growing and unignorable erection against the insides of his pants.

In this particular moment, all your knowledge of Spanish deserts your mind, he’s so close to you that you can feel his breath caress your face. “Dulzura?” you repeat his word questioningly as your eyes flit between his almost hypnotic eyes and his enticingly kissable lips.

A large hand cups the side of your face before he leans in even closer to whisper into your ear. “‘Mi dulzura’ means ‘my sweetness.’” His breath against your ear nearly makes you moan, but you’re unable to stop your body from shuddering and leaning into him. In response, he nuzzles against you, letting his gorgeous dark brown hair tickle your face. He breathes deeply, taking in your sweet scent mixing in with the soap you used in your shower. “You smell so fucking good…” he moans out, almost pushing you down into the mattress. Long, tanned fingers tangle in your hair, gently pulling your head to one side so he can smell you again.

“Miguel, don’t drink-” you splutter hastily as you feel his lips against your neck.

“Shhh…” he hushes you before planting a tender kiss against your skin, “I won’t. I promise.”

His large frame that totally dwarfs yours, looms over you on your bed. His strength slowly convinces you to give in and let the both of you enjoy each other. You have to admit, feeling his mouth on your neck is sending shockwaves through your system, tingles down your spine and pulses of heat emanating from your core.

Miguel holds you in his arms as you moan with the sweet attention he’s lavishing against your flesh. “What are you doing to me?” he asks again.

You shake your head timidly. “I… I don’t know. I’m n-not doing anything-” your words cut off as he nuzzles against your face once more.

“I haven’t kissed anyone for over two hundred years,” he continues as his lips trail along your jawline. “I didn’t expect to start again now…”

On top of your moans, you hear his whimpers as you feel his body slowly grinding against yours through the duvet.

Your manicured fingers run through his silky brown locks and clutch his strands between your digits. He groans as he feels you pull at his hair, raising his head higher, bringing him closer to your mouth.

Finally, your hungry mouths unite as his hold on you becomes more desperate.

The kiss almost feels awkward, but you can forgive him for not having much recent practice. However, what you don’t fail to sense is his urgency in his affection. After two centuries, you’d be pretty desperate to feel good with someone you click with too.

Pulling away from the kiss, the pair of you fumble about, yanking and pulling off his ripped jacket and torn shirt, the items of clothing falling clumsily to the floor. You’re speechless, looking up at his magnificent body, becoming bare just for you.

Miguel tuts as frustration rises; the duvet separating the two of you is feeling anything but sexy. He wrenches it off of you before he attacks your pyjama buttons. Each shiny round bit of plastic being squeezed through its respective hole as fast as he possibly can.

Before long, your top half is free as he peels the offending material off of you, tossing it aside. Cool air dances across your chest as he rids you of your clothing, making your skin pebble. His hungry gaze ignites a spark of desire within you, generating hotter pulses from your core.

Yours and his eyes lock together before he leans forwards and presses his lips against your own. His mind works hard on restarting his muscle memory of kissing buried very deep inside. His large hand gently cups your face as you hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, followed by the unzipping of his fly.

It’s at this moment that Miguel finds another rare instance that he’s rather glad that his heart doesn’t beat any more, otherwise he would be distracted and irritated by its nervous and frantic pounding within his chest.

You hear his breathing hitch as you decide to assist him in removing his jeans. Maybe adding a sigh of relief as his throbbing, hardened member feeling better after being released from its tight confines.

Long fingers hook around the elastic of your pyjama bottoms, yanking them down, making short work of removing them and throwing them across the room, not caring where they land.

You are now totally free from clothing, lying in a vulnerable position beneath the giant of a vampire on your bed. His eyes roam over your naked body, frantically drinking in everything he can see as if he’ll never be able to witness such a sexy specimen again.

All that separates you two now is his boxers, hiding away the very thing you’re currently most interested in seeing. You wonder if every part of him is big, and if so, just how big is he?

Miguel’s hands move down your body, making your breathing hitch as his touch tickles and ignites your skin. Down they slide over your breasts, over your hardened peaks and underneath your plump mounds. Next, they traverse over your ribs and down to your stomach, making your muscles twitch and flex as he strokes you. Your body has been the first he’s seen for two centuries, and you notice he’s touching you and looking at you with utter reverence, like you are some kind of goddess blessing his unworthy eyes.

Miguel’s lips part as he languidly licks them hungrily, but not in a threatening or dangerous manner. His fingers travel even further down to your hips, procuring a needy moan from you.

Then, as if it was designed to be a cruel tease - or a test to see just how much you want him - he pulls his hands away before they get to caressing your thighs. You give a little squeak of protest. His warm, tanned hands make up for it by finally pushing the hem of his boxers down, revealing the very thing that you’ve been wondering about.

His hard, long, thick length springs free after being snagged by the elastic of his underwear as he leans over you to pull them off completely; shifting his weight over you, radiating his warmth down onto your skin.

He leans in closer, making you gasp and close your eyes, the warm air generated by the both of you wafting over your face. You feel his nose press into your neck as he smells you again before letting out a whiney moan. “I need you,” he pleads desperately against your temple, his hips pressing into you, demonstrating just how much he does. Feeling the hardness of his length and hearing the urgency in his voice sends you spiralling into a deep well of desire and lust. Your lips part as you search for something of his face to kiss, he’s so close and yet, seemingly too far when he’s nuzzling you or burying his nose into the crook of your neck. It’s time to take matters into your own hands.

Reaching up to his face, you cup his cheeks with both hands and pull him closer to your lips. His whimpering stops momentarily as he starts to realise what you’re doing is your proof of acceptance.

Relief washes over him as he feels your lips caress his strong jaw, gradually working their way up to his mouth. Every kiss is punctuated with his hips pressing into you, followed by little whines. The relief he felt did not last long however. He may know you want him, but he needs you now. He aches, he throbs and he twitches, and it’s all for you.

His mouth finds yours as he uses his knees to separate your legs and wraps his arms around you, caging you underneath him. Your lips can feel the presence of his fangs, but he’s careful not to let them snag on anything that’ll hurt.

“I warn you now,” he pants as one of his hands reaches down to his shaft, palming it gently. “I’m a little rusty…” he chuckles slightly, “but I’ll make it up to you…”

Miguel is practically lying flat on top of you, between your legs and in the perfect position for you to take him in. The both of you moan needily as you feel the tip of his cock press against your entrance. It’s happening… If someone told you yesterday that you’d be in bed with a vampire in the next twenty-four hours, you would have very likely laughed at the absurdity.

“Please, Miguel…” you beg him to enter you as you long to feel him inside, stretching your walls around him.

Miguel doesn’t need to be told twice. The moment you utter your plea, he takes the plunge, pushing himself deep inside, arching his back and exposing his fangs in a silent roar of pure pleasure. The sensation he didn’t know he missed so badly.

The look on your face alone as you react to him infiltrating you is almost enough for him to explode instantly. The rocking of his body halts as he tries to quell the urge to climax early. He observes you from above, watching your content and blissful expressions etched all over your face. He can’t possibly ruin it for you just yet…

His pause prompts you to use your hands that are resting on the small of his back to pull him in further, taking him even deeper.

“Fuck!” he growls, “I’m so fucking close already…” He closes his eyes in an attempt to reduce the overload of sexiness, to calm the fires of desire coursing through his veins. But, he continues, drawing back his hips before thrusting in again.

The room fills with your noises of pleasure, accompanied by the bed creaking and the banging of the headboard against the wall. However, every movement of Miguel’s has a fifty-fifty chance of him blowing a load prematurely. To him, you feel so exquisitely tight, and he, massively underfucked; a dangerous mix of circumstances to have in the midst of passionate and needy lovemaking.

You moan so sweetly for him as every vigorous pump fills you to capacity, the beautiful sound only contributing to his looming urge to release. The in-and -out motions firing countless tingles around your body and generating a tightening sensation in your lower abdomen especially when his pelvis rubs against your sensitive bud. “M-Miguel!~” you call out desperately, alerting him to your impending climax as your irresistible body rocks under his heavy influence.

No more words are required from you for him to understand what you’re trying to tell him. The tone of your voice says it all. But, instead of strengthening his resolve and pushing through his urges, the desperation in your voice simply pushes him over the edge he had been so feebly holding onto since the very beginning; putting an embarrassing end to his campaign for finishing last. His eyes slam shut as he grunts heavily, thrusting his pulsing and throbbing cock hard into you, spilling his release deep inside. “FUCK!” he roars before gritting his teeth.

Your gasp of surprise and mournful look spread across your face tells Miguel that he cannot stop, despite now feeling oversensitive and buzzing wildly with tingles.

Breathing heavily, wrapping an arm underneath you and using his other hand to cup your cheek as he presses his body lower onto you, he murmurs into your ear. “I’ll get better at this, I promise…” He feels your arms and legs wrap around him, trapping him between your smooth thighs, ensuring he doesn’t go anywhere.

Now it’s your turn to whimper as the climax that has been building has now diminished, deflating like a sad balloon with a slow puncture, your desperate noises spurring him on to continue. “Don’t worry, mi dulzura,” he grunts, trying to sound reassuring as he starts moving again, “I’ve got you.”

There’s something in the way he touches you and the way he looks at you. You know deep down he’ll deliver. He won’t let something like an early climax get in the way. Thankfully for the both of you, the all important part of him remained hard after the result of his eagerness.

You’re torn between closing your eyes and keeping them peeled. His vigorous efforts are so delicious that you simply feel like melting into the mattress as he grinds against you, closing your eyes and getting lost in the moment. Simultaneously, you want to keep your eyes open, so you can watch this masterpiece lavish you with attention. You can’t deny observing his beautiful face etched in pleasure is a turn on in itself, if your eyes were closed, you’d miss such a pleasant sight. To resolve the debate in your mind, you alternate between the two options every now and then. Getting the best of both worlds.

Strong arms wrap around you, protectively holding you as he makes love to you. His behaviour is as if you’re his and no one else’s. His close proximity, leaving no gap between the two of you as your bodies connect.

You love how your breasts squish against his pecs. How with every thrust, you hear him pant in your ear. How every thrust feels stronger than the last. How his panting now sounds as though they’re turning into aggressive grunts before you realise he’s practically rutting into you.

That tightening in your lower abdomen returns and he can feel it too, your inner walls clenching around his already sensitive cock.

“M-Miguel, I’m close!~” you call out with urgency.

“Lo sé, mi dulzura-“ (I know, my sweetness) he grunts aggressively again as he pushes on, working on you harder.

Observing Miguel through half-lidded eyes, you think he looks good on top of you. He certainly feels good inside of you... The way his muscles flex with every wild pump makes your mouth water as you fantasise biting and licking them.

You have never felt so full in your life - no previous lover has been even close to Miguel’s size. And he feels right for you, as if he was made for you.

As promised, you can tell he’s doing everything he can to make it up to you for cumming too early. Now he’s got the novelty out the way, you can feel his efforts are becoming increasingly focussed on giving you what you need and now you’re teetering on the edge of oblivion.

Your mouth forms an almost perfect ‘O’ as he pushes himself all the way in and simply grinds his gorgeously defined pelvis against your clit.

It’s as if your body suffers an internal nuclear explosion. Obliterating absolutely everything in its path and leaving nothing in its wake. Your back arches, your toes curl and your nails dig into his skin before you let out the loudest, grisliest moan to have ever left your lips. But he doesn’t stop there. Miguel pushes through your mind-blowing climax, prolonging it as long as he can for you. There is a look of pride on his face knowing he gave you that experience. After two centuries of no intimacy or affection, he can make a girl forget who she is for a moment, just to be lost to the purest of pleasures.

As he feels the repetitive clamping around his manhood die down, he rests his body on top of yours, being mindful not to crush you. He cups your face with his large hands, searching for signs of you coming back to Earth after such a stratospheric-breaching experience. While he waits, he nestles his face in the crook of your neck, just smelling your sweet scent as he remains inside you, and seated comfortably between your legs.

Finally your breathing slows and you become aware of your surroundings once more. A contented smile forms on your face when you feel Miguel nuzzling against your neck after he pulls out and moves to your side.

“I told you that I’d make up for it…” he whispers into your ear as he rests his arm over you, pulling you in close.

His cheek feels warm under your fingers as you caress him, while your eyes lock on to one another. “I didn’t doubt you for a second,” you reply as you watch the brightest smile flash across his lips and a gleam ignites in his blood-red eyes.

The feeling of his fingers dancing up and down your chest and stomach steals your attention, making you watch his gentle movements as you both soak up everything that has just happened. Goosebumps on your skin rise as a result of his soft and tender touch.

As if struck by lightning, Miguel pauses suddenly as a thought enters his mind. While his long fingers glide over your chest, he is reminded that underneath your supple, youthful flesh, is a beating heart.

Noticing that he has stopped, you glance at him to check on him. “Are you alright, Miguel?” you ask as you observe his expression of sudden realisation, his attention transfixed on his hand over your chest.

He says nothing, but simply presses his warm hand between your breasts, his fingers splaying out wide to find the very thing that gives you life. The very thing that hasn’t thumped inside his own chest for such a long time.

Miguel feels it. A soft and steady thud repeating beneath his fingers. The large organ within you is responsible for pumping that delicious blood around your body. It’s such a beautiful feeling, and he wagers it’s a beautiful sound just as much, if not more.

You realise exactly what he’s doing and it’s such a touching moment to witness - if not slightly sad. To help him, you hold your hand over his, pressing it harder against your chest to make it feel more pronounced.

Bushy dark-brown eyebrows knit together with emotion as he notices your sweet gesture. A faint smile grows across his face, softening his furrowed brows once again as he slowly falls in love with the feeling of your beating heart. It feels crazy that something so simple like a heartbeat being felt can be something so sorely missed. A constant ticking within you, reminding you that you are alive, alerting you to danger or telling you that you’re starting to develop deep feelings for someone.

Miguel shifts his weight slightly before hesitation gives him pause. His red eyes look at you almost pleadingly. “Can I… listen to it?”

How can you possibly deny this usually stoic man who is practically putty in your hands right now? That pleading look on his face makes your heart flutter, which, you’re pretty sure he can feel right now. You give him a nod with a smile to tell him to go ahead.

His body almost acts as a blanket - it’s certainly warm enough - as he lies on top of you again. But this time, his head is nestled in the valley of your breasts as his arms wrap around underneath you.

Looking down at the adorable sight below you, you notice his little curls at the back of his head, which look far too tempting not to touch. Reaching out, your fingers intertwine with his silky smooth locks, stroking him as he relaxes into your embrace and listens.

With his ear pressed against your chest, he revels in the sound of your heart and the fact that you’re playing with his hair almost makes him sleepy, despite it technically being in the middle of his ‘day’. His eyelids feel heavy as he focuses on the gentle thump, thump, thump of your heart.

Your bedroom descends into silence after you turn the bedside lamp off and get settled in your bed once again. The weight of Miguel’s body on top of yours provides a certain level of warmth and security; and after the kind of day you’ve had, this is exactly what you need. Your eyes gradually close as you listen to the sound of Miguel’s deep breathing and drift off into a long and restful sleep.

Feeling relatively well rested and still content from the activities of the night before, you wake to discover Miguel sleeping peacefully beside you. Glancing up at your black-out curtains, you see a golden crest of sunlight peeking around the edges of the thick material, meaning it was time for Miguel to sleep and for you to get up.

Soft snores fill the air as he lay on his side, facing you. You like to think he fell asleep just watching you. You’re not sure if he did it deliberately, but you notice the bedsheets only cover his hips and the lower half of his body. The sexy display almost makes your mouth water.

Leaning over towards him, you softly caress his cheek before brushing his dishevelled hair off his face. Despite feeling warm the night before, you notice his skin feels cooler now. You suspect he’ll need to drink again before you both go to the shelter again tonight. If that’s the case, you need to make sure you have eaten enough throughout the day so you can remain stable after you let him feed from you.

Last night’s feeding experience wasn’t as traumatic as you expected it to be, however, Morbius didn’t exactly set a good example. Miguel knew you were scared and he took good care of you. So much so, you would happily help him if he needs it; now that you trust him not to take advantage.

Turning on your phone’s torch, you locate your pyjamas - a chuckle almost escapes your lips as you see how far and wide both your top and trousers are apart from one another. Miguel was definitely over enthusiastic when he undressed you…

Before starting work, you notice that Miguel spent some of his waking hours cleaning up the kitchen after the mess he made when he cooked you dinner. Washed plates are stacked neatly by the sink - you guess he probably couldn’t work out how to use your dishwasher. A smile creeps across your face as you find what he did was exceedingly cute. He may appear grumpy and stoic, but deep down, he’s really quite sweet and considerate. Also, a part of you feels relieved he didn’t lay there and watch or listen to you sleep the whole night…

You spend the first half of the day lazing about in your apartment, working in your warm pyjamas. Your boss still seems a little cranky that you aren’t in the office today, but at least you’re not off ‘sick’.

Since deciding to shelve, or even better, ditch the developing dead rat story that you originally were writing for the Daily Bugle, you now have to find something else to report about. Annoyingly, you have received an email from your boss to chase you on any other findings you may have gathered since you last wrote. For now, you can use the excuse of being unwell to keep him at bay, but now it’s time to start that internal panic, yet again, to find something else to set your sights on.

Even though you despise the usual office noise, sitting in a silent apartment is equally terrible. You grab the remote and aim it at your TV to turn it on. Your thumb repeatedly presses on a button to lower the volume to keep it quiet so you don’t wake Miguel up, but the constant talking on the channel is a comfort.

Nueva York News, or NYN, comes up on your widescreen TV. A neatly dressed woman sits at a large desk in the centre of the frame as she reads the autocue and delivers the news while you absentmindedly chew on the end of your pen.

“In other news, Doctor Otto Octavius, a promising nuclear physicist, has donated a large contribution towards Nueva York’s school for young and upcoming scientists. This is before he is due to receive his nobel prize in physics in the coming weeks…”

Your eyes glance up at the TV and listen to what the news channel has to say about the impressive-sounding nuclear physicist. A faint smile flickers across your face when you think about the young people who will benefit with the contribution that the school has received. How many young minds will be inspired and dare to go beyond, like this Doctor Octavius. Maybe they too can one day be nobel prize winners. You wonder what kind of benefit to humanity they could bring.

Entering his name into Google, you call up some information about him, and you’re struck with inspiration for something new to write.

Your fingers fly over the keyboard as you cook up an article singing his praises. A stark contrast to the last news item you wrote. You hope it will distract your boss from the lack of development on the dying rats story and it’ll be something soon forgotten.

In the afternoon, you finally decide to get dressed. Meaning that you are fumbling about in your room, desperately trying not to wake Miguel up. As you shimmy into your clothes awkwardly in a mostly dark room, you see from the outline of his magnificent body that he has turned over, burying his head partially under a pillow. For a brief moment, you allow yourself to shine your phone’s light against his back, highlighting the definition of his muscles, and the little scratch marks that you left on him when he delivered you to that delicious orgasm last night. With a bite of a lip and a near moan, you lower your phone and turn the light off before searching in your ensuite for something.

You’re packed; everything you need to take back to the shelter is piled by your door. All you need now is Miguel, who’s still sleeping soundly as the sun is still up, although it is slowly making its way down towards the horizon.

Entering your bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed. Using the softest voice you can muster, you call his name to rouse him. You learned your lesson yesterday when you tried shaking him awake; although the idea of being trapped underneath him again crosses your mind and makes you press your thighs together to quell your arousal. “Miguel…” His name feels soft on your lips. You’ve decided it’s something fun to mutter, whisper or scream out in pleasure. 

Your gentle voice slowly wakes him, generating a deep groan coming from inside his broad chest. You watch his body slowly turn over to face you again as his tired eyes gradually open. He stretches and yawns, every muscle out on display flexing as he tenses them to wake up his sleepy, heavy limbs.

“What time is it?” he croaks, his voice not properly woken up yet either.

“Just gone five PM,” you answer him softly as you watch him double-take and blink at you for a moment. Then he looks at the curtains to see a faint glow of light around the edges.

“But, it’s still light outside,” he grumbles as he rubs his eyes.

You smile sweetly at him. “I want to try something,” begin to explain your reason for waking him up early.

Miguel looks at you quizzically as he begins to wake up a little more. “And what do you want to try, mi dulzura?” he asks as he props himself up on his elbows, partially sitting as he takes in your rather proud expression as you produce a bottle of sun cream.

Red eyes dart from the yellow bottle in your hand back up to your eyes, clearly not making the connections just yet.

“Get dressed,” you reply, sounding very vague, as you get up off the bed and gather his clothes from your floor.

“Ooookay…” he sighs as he begrudgingly pulls the duvet back.

Standing outside your bedroom, you wait for Miguel to emerge fully dressed. Your fingers tap rhythmically against the sun cream bottle. Finally, the door clicks open to reveal a slightly grouchy, pouty Miguel. Apart from the ripped clothing, he is back to looking neat and tidy. His gorgeous hair almost perfectly slicked back. The odd curl of dark brown locks flop over his face.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re hoping to achieve with that?” he asks, gesturing to the bottle in your hand to which you answer with a nod and a wide smile.

Stepping forward, you begin to explain as you present the sun cream to him. “Ultraviolet light hurts vampires, right?” you ask, raising your eyebrows expectantly as you hope he starts to connect the dots.

“Yes?” he confirms as he looks between you and the bottle again. Perhaps his sleepiness makes him slow…

“Well, sun cream blocks damaging UV light,” you continue as you watch him finally put the puzzle pieces together. “I want to show you the colour of the sky while there’s still daylight, but you have to be quick, the sun will set soon.” Before you even make a move, Miguel wraps his arms around you and pulls you in for a meaningful embrace.

“...I can’t believe I have never thought of this,” he gives you a tighter squeeze, “thank you.”

Your heart sings and you’re unable to stop a wide, beaming smile from spreading across your face. With your limited movement, you move your arms that are squeezed underneath his to hug whatever you can of him. “I’m glad you like the idea, but… time’s ticking.”

“Oh,” he releases you, “right. Of course…” His large hands rest on his hips as he looks down at you. “What do I need to do?”

Pumping the dispenser a couple of times, you collect a puddle of cream in your open palm. “You’re mostly covered up, but we should protect your face and hands,” you step forward. “Close your eyes,” you instruct him as you reach up to gently rub the cream into his soft, tanned skin.

He stands there, eyes closed with a nervous smile on his plump lips as he feels the moisture being spread gently and tenderly on his face, ears and back of his neck.

“It’s the strongest factor of sun protection too, to make extra sure you’re safe,” you explain as you now pick up one of his large hands, making yours look so comically small in comparison.

Now fully slathered up, you guide Miguel to the roof of your apartment building. Naturally, he hangs back as he watches you step outside in such a carefree manner. Cautiously peeking out from underneath the door frame on the roof, he can already spot the bright and rich pinks and oranges cast across the sky as the sun continues its slow descent towards the western horizon. A beautiful mix of colours he had assumed he’d never see again.

“Try your hand first,” you suggest as you reach out for his hand to take.

At first he almost panics. Expecting searing pain the very moment that the rays of the setting sun touches his skin. But instead, he feels warmth gracing his flesh in the mild autumnal air. He shuffles further forward, almost not believing what he’s witnessing, or feeling.

You watch him slowly come out from his cover, as if he is a man who has never seen the sun before. Looking as though the concept of daylight and bright colours in the outside world is alien to him. Knowing that he hasn’t suddenly gone up in smoke, you pull him further out, which you notice he doesn’t resist.

“I never thought I’d ever say that something so simple like the sky being one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen in a long time,” he mutters in awe before he lets go of your hand and wraps his arm around your shoulders, bringing you in close against his side.

The pair of you stand in blissful silence together as you rest your head against his shoulder.

Miguel refuses to leave the roof until he watches the last sliver of the sun disappear below the city skyline and horizon. Even still, he needed you to gently tug on his jacket to bring him back to the real world.

“We should get going Miguel,” you speak to him softly as you swear you can see his eyes looking a little watery. Whether it’s from emotion or that he has been staring for so long, you do not know. 

Eventually he nods and looks down at you. “Thank you for giving me that opportunity, Y/N. This will be a memory I will truly treasure.”

You take his hand and give it a firm squeeze. But now, the darkness of the glittering evening sky is shrouding the city once again, enabling beasts of the night to roam free.

Returning to your apartment you pick up your backpack and your laptop bag. You have to travel light as you’re stuck with limited storage space on a Harley Davidson, but you think you have all of your essentials. You look at Miguel before you leave. “Do you feel okay to ride the bike? You’re not in need of a drink?” This is something you have been preparing yourself for by making sure you ate enough during the day.

A smile spreads across his face as he caresses your cheek. “I’d love to taste you again, mi dulzura, but I can last a little longer. I’m fine,” he assures you.

You give him a nod and escort him out of your apartment, giving it one last look as you are not sure when you’ll next be back. Twisting the key in the lock, you hear it click before you pull it out and stow it in your coat pocket.

Approaching the bike, Miguel takes your laptop bag and slots it into one of the cases flanking the rear wheel of the vehicle. Thankfully it fits nicely. As for your backpack, that will have to stay on your back.

After sending a message to Lyla, Miguel puts his phone back in his pocket. “Just told Lyla we’re on our way back to the shelter now,” he says as he effortlessly swings his leg over the saddle and perches himself on the bike, his long leg kicking back the stand.

Placing your foot on a foot-rest and gripping his shoulders, you hoist yourself up and wedge yourself in behind him on the seat. Feeling his peachy rear nestled between your thighs now brings a smile to your face; not just a wild blush like yesterday. Not only that, you get to wrap your arms around his narrow waist. This time, your fingers almost squeeze whatever you get your mitts on, which produces a smile on Miguel’s lips as well as yours.

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to a Harley Davidson’s engine being switched on. It makes you jump when the deep and vicious-sounding, growling rumble erupts from the engine turning over underneath you.

The motorcycle rolls off, the deep idling pur turning into a fierce growl the faster it goes. It weaves in and out of lanes, expertly guided by its rider. His silky, dark brown locks wave in the breeze.

Holding on tightly, you enjoy the closeness between the two of you. Every now and then, your grip around him strengthens, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

Buildings and other vehicles pass by as Miguel snakes the bike between lanes as he navigates the busy streets of Nueva York.

Apart from the regular rush hour traffic, everything seems normal for you. However, you can feel Miguel tense up within your grasp. He seems uneasy all of a sudden and his bike slows as he hesitates. You tap your hand against his side to get his attention. “You okay?” you ask with a concerned expression on your face. The thoughts of him being hungry and his energy dwindling crosses your mind.

Miguel turns his head slightly as he guides the bike down a straight road. “Something’s not right,” he answers as he turns his head back in front again. “We’re being followed.”

You immediately turn your head to look behind you, but all you see is regular rush hour traffic - honestly, what were you expecting? Turning back to face Miguel, your heart pounds as you begin to worry what this will mean. “How do you know?” you ask as the bike slows even more while approaching a red light, the engine noise now lowering back to an idle pur.

Miguel’s body feels highly strung, his nerves are firing on all cylinders. “I can sense them behind us, and now we’re stuck in traffic… Perfect,” he answers as his keen eyes watch the traffic passing by on the crossroads in front of him. After a few seconds, he turns his head again, a subtle glance over his shoulder as he speaks once more. “The case to the right of the rear wheel,” he begins as you turn your attention to it. “Open it, and there will be a gun and several magazines.”

Oh no, not again… You think to yourself as your heart begins to hammer at the grim prospect of shooting vampires again. After opening the case, you reach inside with a trembling hand and find a pre-loaded gun.

“There’s six shots per clip,” Miguel continues. “They’re going to know we’re onto them, so we have to try and use this red light to our advantage,” Miguel continues. “Hold tight.”

Cars cross ahead of you at the crossroad intersection as the red light glares down on the both of you. What does he mean, use the light to your advantage? But then you feel his right arm tense as he twists the throttle back. The sound of rubber squealing shrilly mixes with the roaring engine until the wheel finally bites the tarmac and throws the bike forward, making you cling onto Miguel tightly.

You scream as you swear you see your life flash before you while Miguel directs the motorcycle into a busy stream of traffic. Most of the vast cluster of cars behind you remain stationary, while the ones in pursuit of you begin to try and creep forward and spot a gap in the busy traffic to follow you both.

Car horns and screeching brakes join in with your screams as Miguel cuts his bike through very finely into the steady flow of traffic, pushing the vehicle, as well as willing it perhaps, to go faster. So much so, the rear wheel swerves left and right, making him work hard to keep the Harley Davidson upright. You feel him lean back to put more weight on the fishtailing wheel to gain better traction; forcing you backwards too. Once again you’re racing off in a sturdy fashion, out of the other side of the traffic, and miraculously not dead...

You don’t know how many cars came close to hitting the both of you and you’re pretty sure you went blind with fear. Your entire body feels like it’s encased in ice as your blood runs cold.

Annoyingly, the set of traffic lights behind you have now changed, allowing the cars that were stuck in traffic to begin catching up. Looking back, it’s now obvious which ones are in pursuit as they scramble as best they can to the front to make chase. “Uh… they’re coming!” you shout out as your one arm wrapped around Miguel’s front squeezes tighter.

“Get ready to shoot. If they level with us, don’t hold back - Shit!” Miguel yells with irritation. As well as chasers behind the both of you, he can sense more coming from in front of you at the next intersection.

Steering the bike to the right, he prepares to take it down a highway, which means taking your journey back to Las Sombras on a more scenic route around the city.

Another scream erupts from your mouth as he suddenly steers the motorcycle to the right, taking a road you weren’t expecting, dangerously merging with traffic coming from the left. More car horns beep furiously at Miguel for what they consider is his careless driving, followed by pursuing vehicles.

 ”They’re catching up,” he turns his head as he suddenly senses something. “On your nine o’clock!”

Turning to your left, you raise your gun and focus on a car driving erratically to catch up with you, the nose of the vehicle inching closer and closer to Miguel’s rear wheel, in an attempt to side-swipe it. Confident with your aim, you fire back towards the driver, instantly causing thousands of lines to crack across the windscreen as the car swerves violently, almost colliding with others.

What you don’t expect is a cloud of black mist to appear on the hood of the rapidly slowing car before a winged vampire takes flight.

“Did you get them?” Miguel shouts as he keeps his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“I think I got the driver, but he had a buddy with him,” you answer as you watch the vampire gain more height before barrelling down towards the both of you. Before saying anything else, you instinctively raise your weapon again and shoot, hitting the vampire in the shoulder. He screams in agony as you suspect this gun is also loaded with silver bullets.

Adding to the chaos, the vampire you have just injured goes crashing into the vehicle behind; you’re not sure if it’s a civilian’s car or not.

Hearing tire screeches and a car hitting a crash barrier, Miguel curses again. Morbius is becoming more and more reckless, and now he’s sending what Miguel can only guess are his minions to do his dirty work in trying to stop his enemy from interrupting his plans to find a cure. Despite Miguel’s best efforts to keep the vampire's existence a secret in Nueva York, Morbius has gone ahead and practically blown their cover. If Nueva York doesn’t wake up tomorrow to newspaper headlines claiming vampires exist, he would consider it an absolute miracle.

Now that the secret is becoming essentially the metaphorical cat out of the bag, his prime goal is to get the both of you to safety without being followed. Miguel steps up his game. His eyes scan ahead, looking for any potential openings to lane hop and gain more ground between the both of you and your pursuers.

Just as he finds a spot, he senses another car manoeuvring after swerving wildly to avoid the crashing cars. It’s gaining fast and is directly behind, threatening to bump the rear wheel of the Harley. “On your six!” Miguel calls out again, making you adjust your aim behind you. It’s an awkward angle, but you stretch your right arm as far as possible before pulling the trigger. That’s another windscreen wrecked, but you’re not sure whether anyone got hurt.

Once again, another vampire appears via mist and launches themselves from the car before it slows and veers off to the right.

If shooting at the car was awkward, aiming at the inbound vampire is much worse. The widest thing you can possibly hit is the membrane of his wings, but that won’t do a lot of damage or hurt that much.

Feeling how close the vampire is behind, Miguel advances the bike as he tries to snag an opening in front in another lane, nudging it ever so slightly out of the beast’s reach. In a panic, the vampire stretches out with one arm and grips onto the back of the bike before being dragged along the tarmac.

Feeling uncomfortable shooting a vampire point blank in the face, regardless of their intentions, you press your silver ringed finger into the beast’s hand in an attempt to get him to let go by scorching his skin.

He howls in agony as his skin starts to sizzle. You press harder, adding a crushing pressure to the searing pain to the point of forcing the vampire to release the bike from his clutches. With wide terrified eyes, you watch him fall, hit the road and disappear under the wheels of a car behind, making you wince and look away.

The highway allows traffic to drive around the city instead of travelling through it. Intersections are dotted along the busy road every few miles, allowing drivers to get on and off the highway at multiple points around the city. Spotting the next intersection, Miguel leaves it to the last second to take the exit, fleeing the chasing cars, leaving them to continue on along the highway.

Even though the Harley continued to roar down the exit ramp, there was peace, allowing you to take a much needed breath. Your left arm has returned to gripping around Miguel’s middle, in hope to ground your body that is currently shaking like a leaf in gale force winds.

The motorcycle turns down a quieter street as Miguel starts to navigate the both of you back to Las Sombras.

You feel a cool hand cover yours for a brief moment as you clutch onto Miguel’s shirt. It gives your small hand a reaffirming squeeze before returning back to the left handle. He can tell you’re scared and he wants to try and make you feel better. Sadly, he suspects the pursuers will take the next exit and try to intercept.

The pair of you are surrounded by fewer cars, and given how much more relaxed Miguel feels in your hold, you suspect you’re currently free from threats.

“You did well, mi dulzura,” he compliments you as he talks to you over his shoulder before taking the bike down yet another road. The both of you lean with the motorcycle as it turns the corner.

“Th-thanks…” you stutter as you recall the unwelcome memory of the vampire being run over, making you shudder more violently in the process.

Miguel’s riding is more daring, you notice. Instead of slowing down when seeing a traffic light about to turn red, he speeds up in the hope that it’ll put more distance between you and those who are in pursuit.

Now in a much quieter part of the city, you are thankful for the peace. There are no revving cars behind you, snapping at your heels in chase. Even Miguel seems to be calmer, not riding the bike quite so erratically, thinking a mile a minute to get yourselves out of trouble. You both know you’re close to Las Sombras, some of the streets are starting to look familiar.

As you turn the final corner, you instantly feel Miguel’s body tensing up again, causing your heart to beat wildly. So much so, you think he might be able to feel it against his back.

Dead ahead is a man crossing the road close to Las Sombras. You suspect he’s not just any man though, as Miguel’s left hand gropes around yours to locate the gun, as his bike rolls slowly down the road, buying himself some time.

The moment the man notices the bike, he stops in the middle of the street and stares ominously towards the both of you.

“How many shots are left?” you hear Miguel mutter to you as lowly as possible.

“Three,” you reply confidently, you only fired three rounds earlier. Your hand carefully presses the gun into Miguel’s.

Two blades shine under the streetlights from either side of the road as they’re drawn from their sheaths belonging to the man. It’s clear he’s no friend of yours.

Miguel feel’s your grip on him loosen the moment you see the blades and he catches your arm. “Trust me, you’re safer on the bike.”

The moment he feels you hold tight and duck as low as possible behind him, he revs the engine aggressively as it springs forward, like a horse bolting from its gate.

He charges towards the blade-wielding enemy, getting his bike up to speed so he no longer needs to use the clutch to change gear. Every second he gets closer, his keen eyes remain fixed on his target as he gets into a good range. He raises his left arm, - admittedly not his favoured hand - takes aim and rests his finger on the trigger. Bang! A shot rings out, making you flinch.

To Miguel’s irritation, his target, blessed with vampiric speed, deflects the shot with his blade, letting the silver bullet ricochet off to the side.

As the bike gets closer, you hear another shot ring out, followed immediately by a clang of the bullet striking the blade again. A deep growl rumbles in Miguel’s chest from rustration. There’s one shot left.

The Harley Davidson is approaching the crossroads neighbouring Las Sombras, as the other vampire begins his charge forward from the otherside, blades raised, ready to strike. However, another presence tells Miguel to jam his brakes on, making the both of you lurch forward and the wheels screech against the tarmac. He turns the bike suddenly, stopping several metres in front of the vampire, making you grip onto him with both your arms and thighs as you squeal.

Bright lights emerge from the perpendicular road at the intersection as a car screams into view. Wheels screeching and engine revving to high heaven, making your head pop up to see what’s going on. The vehicle barrels into the vampire, mowing him over before screeching to a stop a few feet away from its now motionless target.

Silence fills the air momentarily before a woman and a man with wild hair steps out of the vehicle, pump-action shotgun poised. Your heart leaps at the sight as Lyla and Hobie start to take care of the situation.

Miguel’s business partner beckons to the both of you, calling you to get the bike into the alley and retreat into the silent nightclub as Hobie kicks the limp body over and aims the shotgun directly down to the injured vampire before pulling the trigger. The slug, full of silver shrapnel, bursts out of the muzzle, before Hobie pumps the fore-end again and releases a second shot. Finally, the body silently dissolves into ash as you and Miguel pass safely.

Moments after stepping into Las Sombras and watching Miguel lock the door, the remaining pursuing cars arrive and slowly stalk by the nightclub’s entrance. With an expression full of concern you look up at Miguel as he observes the vehicles intently with dark, red eyes. His arm spreads out in front of you and pulls you away from the door, further into the darkness of the mostly empty establishment. Then, his gaze lands on Lyla. “How did you know to come out and look for us?”

Lyla takes off her large white coat and hangs it over her arm. “You didn’t come back when I expected you to. I started to prepare for a drive to go looking for you, Hobie called shotgun - literally.”

Hobie snorts as he places the shotgun down on the bar and looks at both you and Miguel. “What happened out there?”

“Chaos,” Miguel simply answers as he presses his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Absolute. Fucking. Chaos,” he lets out an exasperated sigh. “It’s going to be all over the news tomorrow. Multiple car pile-ups on the highway. Reports of vampire sightings. Shots fired. You name it,” he now rests his hands on his hips, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

The British man whips out his phone. “I can’t help with nosey journalists, mate - no offence,” he pauses and looks at you. “...or shit that goes up on the internet, but, you don’t need to worry about trouble from the rozzers (police),” he begins as he taps out a message. “I’ve got someone from the inside who will keep them off your backs.”

Miguel sighs with relief. “Well, that’s something, I guess…” he murmurs before looking back at Hobie. “Thank you,” he continues, his voice sounding genuinely thankful for the slight respite. “What about tomorrow though?”

You clear your throat and step into the conversation. “Tomorrow hasn’t happened yet. We don’t know what’s going to happen or how people will react,” you begin as the other three look at you. “I don’t think we can be proactive here. Tomorrow, we can monitor the situation and make adjustments if needed. The biggest fish to fry is Morbius, right?”

Miguel and Lyla share a look, an unspoken conversation taking place between them. You suspect Lyla agrees with you.

“Mate, rest up. Don’t stress over what’s not happened yet,” Hobie wades in after putting his phone away in his pocket.

You, Lyla and Hobie all look up at Miguel as he gets his thoughts in order. There is, as of right now, nothing he can do. Another sigh leaves his lips as his gaze lowers to the floor, reluctantly accepting loss of control over the situation. “Alright, but tomorrow we’ll keep an eye on the news and the civilian’s responses,” he says as both Lyla and Hobie nod in agreement.

Eventually all four of you make your way down into the shelter and Miguel helps you bring your things into your room. The moment your door closes behind the both of you, you’re immediately engulfed in his arms while his lips attack yours in a passionate kiss. The drama you have both experienced this evening has led to raising Miguel’s emotions, overwhelming him with concern and adoration for you.

His hands cup the sides of your face as he deepens the kiss, his lips caress yours before his tongue traces a teasing, tickling line across them. The sudden act leaves you breathless and stunned, but as you settle into his affections, your hands creep up his front under his open leather jacket, splaying your fingers wide over his abdomen and chest.

Miguel’s teasing across your lips finally persuades you to open them and let him in, generating a deep moan to rise from this chest. But before he gets too carried away, he pulls back, allowing you both to breathe. He rests his forehead against yours as his thumbs brush along your cheekbones. “Are you okay, mi dulzura?” he asks you with a breathy voice.

That passionate moment has stolen your voice, your throat dry all of a sudden. You simply nod in response as you clear your throat.

The pair of you look at one another, a connection deepening between you.

“I’m proud of you, mi dulzura. You’re stronger and braver than you think,” he whispers before giving you another quick kiss on your lips. “Not to mention wise and caring,” he pauses as he looks down at you as he smiles slightly. “I’m sorry for being the way I was with you the other night. You didn’t deserve my comments about Morbius fooling you. He’s played us all in one way or another.”

Being mindful not to touch his skin with your rings, your hands cup his face too. His apology and sweet words you can tell are from his heart, beating or not. You clear your throat before responding. “It’s all water under the bridge. You have worked hard to build this place, prepare it for vampires who need help and protect them. I can only begin to imagine the stress you’re under.”

Miguel’s strong arms wrap around you and hold you close, bringing your head to his chest as he rests his chin on top. Long fingers stroke your hair delicately as he closes his eyes momentarily, enjoying the affectionate moment. “You should rest. I’ll get Lyla to order you a takeout while you relax in here, okay?”

“Sure,” you say with a smile, but as he starts to pull away, you grip his shirt, making him look back at you. “Will you stay with me tonight?” you ask with a pleading expression.

He smiles down at you and raises an eyebrow. “How about you stay with me?”

Thank you for reading part 5 of Vampire Miguel - gosh that was a big one! I hope you're enjoying it so far.

I would like to thank my brother for suggesting the reader gives Miguel some sun cream to enjoy a sun set. I thought that was very sweet and couldn't resist putting it in.

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[theroseceleste]

A head canon of Miguel's birthday in HQ. Happy birthday Miguel!

(Freya is my OC which I'm writing a small fic about her before I introduce my bigger fic with Miguel. Watch this space for more uploads in the coming months)

[theroseceleste]

Vampire Miguel - Part 4 - Lyla Renfield

You wake up in the shelter, but the plans you had made with Miguel the night before don't exactly go the way you expected...

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Minors DNI - Eventual smut and descriptions of violence

Word count - 11,974

If you don't want spoilers, don't look at the 'contains' bit below.

Contains - Descriptions of violence (involving guns and stabbing)

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Enjoy! xx

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

Miguel had no idea what on earth convinced him to leave his safe and quiet home in the dense woods to brave the likes of Nueva York. He had access to wildlife at night to feed on in private, away from human prying eyes.

Perhaps it was after at least the first century of being a vampire, Miguel felt he had nothing to drive him. The persistent passage of time caught his now elderly daughter while he continued to live on. Her own children were strangers to him and he didn’t want to ruin their lives with them being associated with him.

He had finally reached a point that the risk of exposure just to do something in his life outweighed the need to be safe, away from the creatures he had mostly grown to despise: Humans…

There was also a… stirring, or inkling in the back of his mind. Whispers in the dark almost, telling him that he should be wary. Not of people, but of Morbius. For some while, he had a terrible feeling that perhaps the evil vampire did not perish in the river. He felt a lingering presence - a faint one, but he could still sense it. However, over time, it disappeared as if the being he could sense had wandered off - or died.

Times were changing, too. Technology and science had advanced quite considerably, and if he remained in hiding, he’d be forever lost in the 19th century. It was time to brave the new world; to learn, to adjust, and to fit in… somehow.

It was a struggle, but Miguel managed to survive the change after moving into the city. Over decades, he had acquired his own living space and found bar work - a job he could do at night. However, he often changed the bars he worked at after several years to avoid questions like "why do you look like you haven’t aged at all since you started working here?” People paid a lot of attention to his looks as many considered him to be extremely attractive, although his red eyes were slightly disconcerting. The invention of coloured contact lenses was a blessing for him indeed.

Present day, Miguel was a lot more carefree about his appearance. He was in an age that it was acceptable for one to stand out from the crowd and express oneself. His red spider tattoo added to the aesthetic that his similarly shaded eyes had set for him. Instead of weird looks, he received more expressions of admiration and appreciation.

Being a hit with the ladies while working at the bars felt alien to him. He hadn’t received any kind of attention or intimacy since before his wife passed away. Despite their very convincing advances, Miguel managed to wriggle himself out of their clutches and retreat home.

The whole time he was in Nueva York, no one had ever guessed he was different to everyone else. That was until he gained a new neighbour in the apartment building he lived in.

It was just by chance that Miguel was leaving his place when his new neighbour was returning home after work one evening. They hadn’t met before, but when she looked up to greet him, she double-took.

Miguel groaned internally, assuming the woman was going to be enamoured with him.

(illustration provided by @smileyrhi717)

“Oh my God, I’ve seen a picture of you!” the short, light-brown haired woman exclaimed.

Now it was Miguel’s turn to double-take. “What?” Out of all possible greetings he was expecting to receive, that wasn’t one of them.

“Yeah! Before I moved here, I was clearing out some old stuff in my loft and found some items belonging to my great, great, great, great, great grandmother,” she counted her fingers as she spoke. “I inherited a bunch of stuff from very sentimental family members. There’s a picture of a man looking exactly like you,” she paused as she moved closer while Miguel stepped back, pressing his back against his apartment door. “He even had that unusual shade of red eyes, like you.”

The man stood rigid, looking totally bewildered by this revelation. “That’s… That’s impossible…” he managed to splutter. Indeed it was impossible. Even if he did participate in having his photo taken at the same time this woman’s grandmother was alive, he wouldn’t have shown up in the image anyway.

“I know, right? Spooky. I found it in one of her old diaries. It’s a drawing she did when she was little, but she captured your likeness perfectly.”

Miguel blinked in a stunned silence, his eye twitching slightly as he stressed over how to navigate this conversation out of the danger zone.

The woman cleared her throat. “Anyway… unless you’re a vampire, you can’t be him, right?” she asked with a chuckle, waving a dismissive hand, blissfully unaware of the irony of her last sentence.

If Miguel’s heart was working, it’d be doing a thousand beats a minute. At this point, he started to wish she was enamoured with him - it would have been far easier to deal with.

His new neighbour extended her hand to introduce herself. “Lyla Renfield, nice to finally meet the guy next door.”

Red eyes flitted between her hand and her face before finally reaching out and taking it. “M-Miguel O’Hara-”

“You’re kidding!” Lyla exploded in surprise, her mouth agape and her eyes wide with utter shock. “That’s what that guy was called! My five-times great grandmother wrote about a Miguel O’Hara in her diary,” she continued as she let go of his hand.

The vampire’s bushy brown eyebrows furrowed in an astonished disbelief. “This has got to be some kind of joke, I-”

“No! I swear. She was friends with a girl called Gabriella O’Hara in Philadelphia who often spoke to my grandmother about her father. It was all written in her diary. Damn, I wish I hadn’t thrown it away now…”

At the mere mention of his beloved Gabriella, tears threatened to spill from his eyes. He thought there was no chance of someone other than himself speaking her name in this day and age. “Gabi…” he muttered softly, forgetting all about pretending that what Lyla was saying was impossible.

“My grandmother wrote in her diary that Gabriella’s father was shunned from her town for something that wasn’t his fault. No one gave him a chance to prove he wasn’t a threat, despite being so kind and pure of heart before his affliction. She was the only one who believed Gabriella…” Lyla’s voice trailed off as she watched Miguel’s expression dissolve from shock to melancholy.

He didn’t have to utter a single word, she knew there and then who and what he was.

“Oh God… you’re… you really are him, aren’t you?”

Miguel was speechless. Totally floored by Lyla’s revelation. And now, she knew the truth. The truth he had worked so hard to protect and keep hidden.

“You… you can’t tell anyone. I swear, I’m not a threat. I-”

Placating hands rose to stop the panicking man in his tracks. “Hey! Hey!” she began as Miguel stopped talking, his wide eyes had returned back to twitching again. “I love supernatural and paranormal stuff. If my five-times great grandmother believed you, I do too.”

The unsettled expression across Miguel’s face relaxed when Lyla surprisingly didn’t run for the hills screaming. Relief felt like a cold, wet blanket thrown over the fire of anxiety and Miguel let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Wow, an actual vampire… oh my God, do you have fangs?” she asked, her face full of wonder.

His body stiffened at her question. This was brand new territory for Miguel and he struggled to adjust to such a wild one-eighty from the reaction he was used to regarding his condition. He guessed that some people were more open to the idea of creatures of the night. Perhaps media like movies and books have helped shape people’s minds to be more accommodating, if such a truth was revealed to them, not like he intended on telling the entire city.

“I- um… Yes, I do have fangs, but they come out when I need them. And no, I’m not giving you a demonstration.”

“Aww…” Lyla sounded disappointed, but she seemed to come alive with excitement, her expressions becoming more animated. “Oh! Okay. What about if you’re chasing me and I threw rice at you. Do you have the compulsion to stop and count it?”

Miguel frowned mostly out of confusion at her question. “Compulsion to count? That has never been a thing. I’d simply step over the rice and catch you.”

Despite finding Lyla’s enthusiasm for vampires rather overwhelming, he did feel relieved that there was at least one person in the city who wasn’t afraid of who he really was. He could be transparent with her, if they developed a friendship. Perhaps not all humans are bad.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t stay long with Lyla that evening because he had to go to work. He bid his goodbyes and left the apartment block.

On his way to the bar he worked at, something in a small shop caught his eye. A simple stand for sunglasses of all different shapes and sizes stood before him. A cute pair of pink heart-shaped glasses just glistened perfectly in the light, as if they were calling out for him. They were quirky - a bit like the girl he had just met. Perhaps it could be a light-hearted ‘thank you for not freaking out about me’ gift.

“It’ll clash with your eyes…” a young, female cashier who was chewing some gum drawled as Miguel went to pay for the present. He thought she was rather rude, but shrugged it off. “Good job it’s not for me then,” he replied stiffly as he handed the correct change over.

The look on Lyla’s face was priceless when she opened her little gift bag, handed over by a slightly awkward Miguel the next evening.

“It’s nothing special, I just saw them and thought they’d be a funny novelty gift more than anything else…” but before Miguel had even finished his sentence, Lyla had already put the glasses on and gone to check her reflection in the mirror.

“I love them. Thank you,” she replied as she turned back to face her vampire friend.

The pink shades actually looked good on her - a little goofy, but she was able to wear them so well, he couldn’t resist breaking his usual stern expression to smile slightly.

“I could say, ‘fangs a lot’,” Lyla joked with a cheeky grin, causing the smile on Miguel’s face to drop. He groaned at the awful pun as he swore a part of him died and left his body.

The unlikely duo hung out together more and more. The vampire enthusiast spent time learning everything she could about her new friend, while the vampire could spend time being himself and not have to watch his words.

He found it refreshing to chat with a woman who wasn’t constantly trying to flirt with him. Their relationship was entirely platonic and felt completely natural.

On a rare night off, Miguel and Lyla enjoyed an evening out in Nueva York, watching the city in a new perspective on the rooftops. White and red lights snake through the busy roads, the usual din of honking horns and car engines rumbling away now a distant noise while the evening breeze caressed them both.

Above the traffic, above the bustling streets was serenity. That was until Miguel picked up on an old, familiar sense. A sense he had long forgotten.

Sitting on the edge of a rooftop, Lyla noticed Miguel’s attention shifting from enjoying the scenery to looking like he was listening to something intently, while his brows furrowed with concern. “What’s the matter, Miguel?” Lyla asked as her feet swung back and forth.

The vampire leans further forward, looking down to the streets far below, almost like he was defying the laws of gravity. “I sense something…” he answers simply as the wind disturbs his short, dark-brown hair.

She may not have known Miguel for long, but this behaviour was odd. Lyla could tell he was a pensive and brooding kind of character, but in that instance, he acted as though he was an eagle, spying on his prey. “What do you sense?” Lyla asked with growing interest.

An apprehensive sigh left his parted lips as he started to stand. “Someone I thought had died a long time ago,” he looked down at his friend. “This isn’t good,” he continued as he held out his hand towards Lyla - a gesture for her to come with him. “Hold onto me and I’ll fly us back down. I can’t ignore this.”

The duo landed in an alley so as to not gain unwanted attention before Miguel stormed ahead, his long strides eating the distance as though he was a man on a mission. Lyla, who was considerably shorter than him, had to jog to keep up.

Leaving the narrow passage, the vampire turned to the right sharply and continued down the road, his senses leading the way like a dog sniffing out a scent.

Miguel led Lyla to a park. Lamp posts flanked the path snaking through the large verdant patch of land nestled amongst highrise buildings. He paused as he listened intently, his hand held out behind him, telling his friend to stay back. “Keep your eyes peeled,” he uttered in a hushed tone.

“What am I looking for exactly?” Lyla asked as she looked left and right, eyes adjusting to the darkness away from the brightly illuminated pathway.

“Uhh… not sure…” Miguel murmured distractedly as a twig snapping in the distance caught his attention. There was a sudden spike in his senses, which raised an alarm in his head. “This way…”

Grass rustled under his footsteps as he strode off the path and followed the noise.

Deeper and deeper into the treeline of the park the duo stalked. Lyla stooped low to pick up a snapped-off branch from the ground which looked particularly jagged at one end.

“What are you doing?” Miguel whispered as he glanced back at his friend.

“Arming myself. Don’t worry about me; eyes in front, nosey.”

With a roll of his eyes, he looked back in front of him. Up ahead, there was a dark, writhing mound, the subtle movements caused him to stop dead in his tracks and gestured for Lyla to do the same.

Eventually, the mass before him moved. Red eyes gleamed in the dark ominously, locking directly onto the pair. The creature that stood before Miguel did not look at all like his memory of Morbius, but he knew it was him through sense alone. He raised the back of his hand to his mouth, wiping something away, which increased his air of suspiciousness.

“Oh my God, who’s that with him?” Lyla muttered quietly as she drew level with her friend.

Miguel’s eyes glanced down briefly to see a body laying deathly still at Morbius’ feet. The feeling of a heavy stone dropped to the pit of his stomach. Morbius wasn’t dead, and he is definitely back to his old tricks. What was worse, he had an entire city practically acting like an all-you-can-eat buffet.

“I suppose I look a little different to how you remember me, don’t I?” his old foe finally spoke out as he ambled closer. “No thanks to you,” there was a hint of venom in his words.

Gone was his beautiful, sleek black hair. His youthful complexion was now blotchy and ruined.

“I presume you’re disappointed to learn that your dirty trick which sent me splashing into the river didn’t quite finish the job... although it was damn close,” Morbius spat as he stepped closer, his eyes eventually landing on Lyla. “Who’s this?”

A protective arm spread across her chest, before she was pulled back behind her vampire friend. “No one who concerns you, Morbius,” Miguel answered stiffly before casting his eyes back over his victim. “Who was that?” he gestured with a slight nod of his head.

Morbius chuckled darkly as he looked back to the limp body lying on the grass before giving a nonchalant shrug. “No idea. I’m not picky these days. I just need something to rejuvenate my frail body. Another thing to thank you for…” there was a disdainful sneer growing across his face as he spoke, almost as if he rued having anything to do with Miguel in the first place. He certainly became a lot more trouble than he was worth. His blood didn’t benefit Morbius any more than any other person he fed upon, and now, the price was to have an irritating vampire who fancied himself the hero interfering in his business.

“The whole city will be full of vampires if you continue draining people completely!”

A clawed hand swiftly gripped Miguel’s throat, instantly silencing him. “You know, you’re starting to bore me with the same tune you keep singing,” Morbius growled with contempt, but his grip on his foe didn’t last long. His head jerked backward suddenly as Miguel threw a devastating punch to the face, freeing him the moment his knuckles collided with Morbius’ nose. Lyla nearly gagged at the unpleasant crunching sound that came with it.

The old vampire wasn’t lying when he said the river nearly killed him. The rushing water burned every part of him; to the point that his body was irreparably damaged. This however didn’t stop his regeneration abilities to keep trying, sapping him of his strength and power.

Striking while the iron was hot, Miguel dealt another crushing blow by grabbing the side of Morbius’ head and slamming it against a tree.

“Oh, shit!” Lyla exclaimed, surprised by two things: that vampires were incredibly strong and robust, and just how violent her very quiet vampire friend could get once angry. Before she even knew it, she had stepped back a few paces to make sure she was well out of the way.

“I should have made damn sure you were dead all those years ago!” Miguel roared as his eyes glowed intensely. Morbius’ head lolled as the collision made him see stars momentarily while Miguel grappled his clothing.

Lyla simply watched aghast as her friend pummelled and smashed Morbius in a fit of rage. Her friend had almost become a totally different person, although she considered his actions justified. Then, a perfect window of opportunity opened up for her.

Miguel had floored his vampiric foe before looking back at his friend, gesturing for her to come over quickly. “Give me the branch!” he shouted as he held Morbius flat on his back.

Lyla sprang forward, pushing off of a tree that she had been holding on to. Her booted feet thudded heavily with every purposeful stride, running to her friend, her hand carrying the short branch outstretched.

Just as the improvised wooden stake exchanged hands, Morbius’ wings unfurled and swept the pair away from him, knocking the branch out of Miguel’s hand. The duo tumbled over one another from the force of the bat-like appendage until Miguel landed on top, his gaze fixed on the snapped branch between them and Morbius.

It was as if time slowed in that moment. His powerful limbs burst with energy, to rush forward with vampiric speed. And yet, under sheer panic, he felt he was going at a snail’s pace. Protruding claws from his fingertips dug into the ground for extra traction.

Morbius lunged for the jagged branch too, joining the race for the only thing that could kill either of them. The scurrying vampires clashed together, neither of them able to grab the weapon. Fangs bared, claws slashed as the two beast-like creatures fought ferociously, while a dazed Lyla watched in shock.

To Miguel’s horror, he was knocked onto his back, exposed as Morbius wrapped his gnarled fingers around the makeshift weapon. His eyes widened as the rigid limb of wood was plunged downwards. He was in trouble, his broad chest a nice wide target. In the small window of time he had, he flinched to the right slightly before yelling in pain. The branch had plunged into his chest, narrowly missing his heart.

Morbius wrenched the wood back, raising his arms up high again. An ominous, hate-fuelled growl left his snarling mouth as he tried once more.

Panting heavily, Miguel lurched the other way so his foe would miss his target. Again, the woods filled with more agonising yells as he was stabbed a second time.

Miguel had gone through two hundred years since his last fight with Morbius, and even then he hadn’t been hurt like this. He gazed up at his enemy who was poised to plunge the wood into him again, thinking this would be his final moment.

This pitiful bit of wood clutched in Morbius’ hands may as well have been the Sword of Damocles. His body frozen in fear as he watched it begin to fall, about to seal his doom.

Suddenly, a feminine grunt filled the air as Lyla charged in and kicked Morbius off, sending the jagged branch way off course, narrowly missing Miguel’s head.

The evil vampire tumbled and rolled, but the moment he stopped, the human was already on top of him, her fingers wrapped around a different snapped branch, looking even sharper than the other, before plummeting it towards Morbius’ heart.

Black mist swirled around her as she suddenly noticed the lack of a body beneath her and her improvised weapon plunged into nothing but the cold ground.

Lyla’s heart pounded and adrenaline coursed through her veins while her frustration soared. She nearly had him. Then, her wide eyes landed on her friend, lying motionless on the ground. “Shit…” she muttered as she scrambled over to him.

Two holes about eight inches apart were visible on his shirt where the snapped branch struck his chest.

“Miguel!?” Lyla called as her hands rested on his shoulders and shook him. To her relief, a deep groan rose from his parted lips and he gradually opened his eyes, revealing his glowing red irises.

“Did you get him?” he grunted in pain as he tried to prop himself up on his elbows.

Lyla’s expression fell. “Nearly… the coward vanished just before I stabbed him,” she answered as she pulled away from him to give him room.

“Ay coño…” he groaned as he raised a large hand to his face and massaged the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry…” she said with disappointment as her shoulders slumped.

Weary eyes locked onto hers. “Hey. No. That wasn’t on you,” Miguel grunted. “Even if you didn’t kill him, you saved me. So, I thank you, Lyla. Don’t go beating yourself up over Morbius…” he had now properly sat upright and pulled at his shirt to look at the damage. “Damn it. I liked that shirt too…”

As Lyla watched, she noticed there weren’t any wounds underneath the material of his top. “How did you…” she asked, her voice full of wonder as she pointed a finger at his chest.

Long fingers splayed over his shirt, smoothing it over. “Vampires have fast regeneration or healing abilities,” he paused as hesitation and exhaustion etched across his face, “but in doing so, it consumes a lot of my energy.”

The pair looked at each other momentarily as silence poured over them, before Miguel eventually opened his mouth to speak.

“I regret having to ask you to go above and beyond… you’d be the first… but… if he comes back again, I need to be ready-“

Lyla could tell Miguel was worried about what he was about to ask. To help calm him, she rested her hand on his shoulder. “Miguel; just say it.”

He let out a shaky sigh before plucking the courage to ask. “I’m weak after the fight, Lyla. I need to regain some strength, and in order to do that, I must feed.”

Lyla’s hand slipped from his shoulder. She guessed that was what he was going to ask, but the confirmation still made her blood run cold. “Is it going to hurt?” she asked cautiously.

Her friend gave a shrug. “I… I don’t know. I’ve never drunk from a human before. But I’ll be as gentle as possible - if you let me.”

She knew Miguel would have taken an alternative option if there was one, but they were alone, amongst the trees in the park. The threat of Morbius returning meant Lyla had to choose quickly. Looking at her friend, who currently looked wiped out with fatigue, he was the most trustworthy person she had ever met. “Okay, but you owe me, big time,” she answered, failing to stop a smirk from tugging up the corners of her lips.

A look of relief flooded across Miguel’s face. “Thank you. You are a saint.”

The pair stood up and brushed themselves off, ridding their clothes of dirt and loose blades of grass.

“So, um… how does it work then?” the woman asked, struggling to mask her nervousness a little.

Miguel weakly shuffled closer to his friend as his eyes began to glow again. A trait that Lyla had noticed happened when Miguel used his vampiric abilities.

“Typically, blood is drunk from the human's neck. You need to tilt your head for me,” it didn’t feel right to touch her or manipulate her into position, he even hated the fact he’d have to nuzzle his face into an intimate place on his friend’s body in order to drink. But, it was necessary.

Lyla followed his instruction and moved her hair away from her face and neck, giving him full access.

“I’m sorry…” Miguel whispered after he leaned over her as his lips searched for the warmest point.

“Mhm…” his friend gave a little squeak at the sensation of his mouth on her skin. She felt his arms hold her close, one hand pressing against between her shoulder blades while the other cupped the back of her head.

The whole experience felt awkward and wrong, but he had to do this in order to be strong enough to keep them both safe if Morbius attacked again.

Sharp teeth sank into the best spot Miguel could find, making Lyla’s body stiffen momentarily, until she felt a numbness spreading through her. Then, there was warmth that followed, making her relax into his hold.

Their close proximity meant she could feel Miguel’s Adams apple bobbing as he gulped mouthfuls of her blood. She could tell he was being as careful and gentle as possible. His eagerness to prove his trustworthiness was overwhelmingly evident.

Every gulp provided him with a small burst of energy, rejuvenating his body with every passing second. He was restrained, and made sure not to bite too hard. Every mouthful was measured, keeping her health at the front of his mind at all times.

The moment he knew he had enough, he released her neck but kept Lyla in his arms in case she felt dizzy or faint. Red glowing eyes searched his friend’s face to check on her wellbeing. “Are you alright?” he asked as his tongue slipped over his lips, making sure they were clean.

Apart from looking a little subdued in comparison to her normal behaviour, she didn’t look unwell or uncomfortable. To answer his question she nodded with a smile when she could see that her vampire friend also looked better.

“Thank you, Lyla. I’ll never forget this,” he muttered to her as his arms around her body loosened. “I’m sorry it was so awkward,” he continued as rested his hands on her shoulders, giving her one final check that she wouldn’t collapse before letting go.

A faint, weak groan came from the man the pair discovered Morbius standing next to, making Miguel and Lyla turn to face him. The man’s hand rose to his head and rubbed it before trying to sit up.

“Shit, I forgot he was here…” Lyla mumbled before Miguel strode over to the stranger.

The newly turned vampire sat up, blinking several times as he tried to remember what had happened. He watched silently as Miguel approached and crouched down next to him.

“Take it easy. What’s your name?” At first glance, he had short brown tufty hair, his nose was slightly crooked and now incredibly pale.

“P-Peter Parker…” the dazed man answered as his hand slipped from his face into his hair. “What happened to me?” he asked as Lyla, too, joined Miguel and crouched down, a sympathetic expression etched across her face.

The vampire simply gazed down at Peter, his eyebrows knitted together, reliving his past as he watched someone else begin their cursed life just like he did all those years ago.

A firm hand rested on Peter’s shoulder to offer up some comfort and an attempt to soften the blow of her next words. “There’s no easy way to say this, Peter. You’ve been attacked by a vampire, and as a result, you’re…” her words trailed off as she struggled to summon the right ones to say.

Peter looked between the two strangers, both of their despondent faces explained the rest to him without another word being spoken. “I… see…” he began as his gaze lowered to his lap to think for a second before looking back up at Miguel. “What does that mean for me, exactly?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

Lyla’s hand squeezed his shoulder again slightly as her friend was still at a loss for words. “Don’t worry; we’ll help you through this.”

Little did Lyla know, her words started cogs turning in Miguel’s mind. Morbius was back. And he wasn’t going to stop draining people of their blood in his bid to rejuvenate and try to cure himself. Soon, others will follow Peter. Ultimately, Morbius needed to be stopped, but until then, Miguel would have to help as many newly turned vampires as possible.

The concept of Las Sombras was born. The finances gained from the nightclub would go towards the upkeep of the shelter.

Many months passed and the plan came to fruition. The refuge was ready for as many victims Miguel could locate, but he was certain he hadn’t found all of them.

When he noticed the victims were getting younger, his mood plummeted. He blamed himself. He was the reason why Morbius was still stalking the streets at night. He was the reason why teenagers and young adults’ lives were being ruined. He needed to put an end to Morbius once and for all.

You wake from your deep slumber. Blinking your sleep away, you think about the most vivid dream you have just had. Was it a dream? You’re not entirely certain… It seemed too real and flowed far better than any usual dream you have experienced.

Looking at your phone screen, you see that it’s nearly eight AM. It’s time you should message your boss to say that you are ‘sick’. You can already imagine his reply, which you’ll read in his irritated and unnecessarily aggressive voice.

The shelter is now deathly silent, no murmurings in the social area heard as you amble out of your makeshift bedroom. You’re reminded that you’re most likely to be the only person awake.

Typically, subway stations are large and convoluted. Many twists and turns dividing off to different platforms. You begin to wonder just how much of this subway Miguel and Lyla have actually claimed and put into use. But first, you wonder if Lyla is about yet. She doesn’t seem to be down here with you. Maybe she’s up in the nightclub cleaning?

Las Sombras was just as silent and deserted.  There was no sign of Lyla. You presume she’s just on her way.

Nine AM ticks by and still nothing. You remember the morning before; Lyla was already in and working by that time, and you frown as you wonder where she could be.

Minutes turn into hours as you wait. You begin to wish that you had taken her number so you could text her. Concern grows exponentially as you watch the morning turn into afternoon.

With a rumbling stomach, you rummage through the cupboards in the kitchen back in the shelter. There has to be something for you to eat. A look of relief spreads across your face when you discover a bag of unopened potato chips.

As you crunch away, you argue with yourself over whether you should try to wake Miguel and tell him that Lyla hasn’t arrived, but you wonder just what he could do about it while the sun is still up. The moment you see him, you decide you will tell him.

The subway station is indeed vast, but you notice all the available bedrooms are taken. Hopefully there won’t be any other new vampires joining the ranks soon, but you wouldn’t put money on it.

Escalators stand silent and motionless as you explore the depths of the subway station. Each step makes a clunking sound against the ridged metal as you descend. At the bottom, a long platform and a line of rails stretches before you, stopping abruptly at a sealed tunnel. A stack of mattresses towered over you as you strolled further onto the platform to investigate. And down around your feet were countless bags full of blankets and cushions. It is clear that the vampire and human duo have been preparing for a while for the worst.

Sprawled out over one of the many couches, you scroll through social media on your phone when you finally hear movement, causing you to lock your screen and sit up to see who it is. You find yourself surprised to see more than just one person peering down at you. The six missing people quietly join you.

Before now, you didn’t have much chance to pay attention to what they really looked like, but now they’re up close, you take note of who they are. Of course, there’s Miles - you knew about him - but next to him is a tall, young girl of similar age. She has short blonde hair with a pink streak. Her face is rather cute and she has an adorable gap between her two front top teeth, visible when she gives you a warm smile.

“I’m Gwen; Miles told us last night what Morbius nearly did to you,” her eyes flit down to your neck which is still patched up, thanks to Lyla…

Brushing your concerns regarding Lyla aside, you give a weak smile at Gwen and nod. “Nice to meet you, Gwen. Yes, he fooled me well… I’m sorry that you and your friends weren’t so lucky…”

To Gwen’s left sits an older looking young adult. Dark skin, a handsome face adorned with several piercings: over his brow, on his nose and lip, his thick dreadlocked hair as wild as his personality, you wager. A black studded collar encircles his neck, matching with the rest of his punky attire.

“Man’s a scheming bastard. He got us all one way or another,” the punk’s voice is deep and speaks with a British accent. “Name’s Hobie; by the way.”

As the conversation continues, you go on to speak to Margo, Pavitr and Penni - Penni being the youngest. They all seem bright, promising individuals and you hope they can still manage to achieve greatness even after having such a life-changing challenge thrown at them.

During the whole conversation, the thought of Lyla persists. Something is not right at all. The fact that the youngsters are up means that it is getting dark. “Where does Miguel sleep? I need to talk to him. It’s kind of important.”

Gwen stands up from her spot on the couch and points towards a room mostly hidden away by crates - you suspect that was done on purpose.

“Thank you. Speak to you guys later,” you rise from your seat and amble over to Miguel’s room, weaving around stacks of boxes which you guess are filled with supplies for the shelter.

The door to his room is shut, prompting you to give it a gentle knock, but there is no response. Perhaps he is a heavy sleeper? You turn the door handle and quietly enter the room.

Taking a quick look around, you see his room is the most decorated in the entire subway station. You guess he’s probably a permanent resident - why shouldn’t he make his mark on his living quarters? Then, your eyes land on a large bed, presumably the other available mattresses were far too small for his gigantic frame. As your eyes wander up the bed, they rake over the rucked up sheets around his long legs and narrow hips, however his top half is totally bare. The slumbering vampire lays on his side, one arm tucked under his pillow while his other hand rests in front of him on the mattress.

Considering how neat he looks when he’s awake, you can’t help but chuckle quietly at how messy his hair looks while he’s asleep. His little flicks and curls stick to his face and splay out over his pillow. You watch momentarily as he sleeps on, blissfully unaware that you’re there, but Lyla must come first. Tentatively, your hand hovers over him, unsure exactly where to place it to try to wake him up gently. Everything is just hard muscle! You also fight against your urge to let your eyes wander to his exposed abs.

Swallowing hard, you step closer and gently rest your hand on his arm. He looks so peaceful and far less moody, it is almost a shame to wake him. Giving him a gentle squeeze and a little shake, you begin to whisper. “Miguel…” His body rocks slightly as you move your hand against his bicep more. “Mig-”

His eyes snap wide open as he moves instantly, grabbing your arm and wrenching you over him and onto the mattress. It happens so fast you can barely register what’s going on. He rolls over you and pins you down, hand raised with claws extended.

“H-holy shit, Miguel!” you exclaim in a breathy voice, stunned at the sheer speed in which he moved.

His fierce eyes squint at you until he realises he’s not under any threat. Claws sheath once more as he lowers his arm and gathers the loose sheet around his hips. His hand grips it tightly around him before sitting back against his feet. That is when you realise he is totally bare under the thin layer of fabric.

“What on earth are you doing in here, waking me up like that? You scared the hell out of me.” he growls, his mane of dark brown hair comically stuck out at different angles, although you don’t quite see the funny side just yet.

You sit up on his bed, pulling your feet out from under his straddling legs while your eyes remain locked on his. You strive not to let them travel any further south. “Lyla’s not shown up at all today. I figured you’d want to know… I still need to get my laptop, and it’s nearly nightfall.”

Concern grows across his face as his gaze moves from you to his phone beside his bed. While holding onto his bedsheet, he crawls across the mattress, his large thigh emerges between the drapes of the material as he moves. Fuck! Your eyes dart upwards, as you foolishly think they are safer further north on his body. Wrong… His prominent V-line is where they land next, making you feel the pink in your face rise higher and higher.

Miguel grabs his phone and checks his notifications, but there doesn’t appear to be anything from Lyla. The cellular device thuds back down on his bedside table. “We’re going to have to go to her apartment before we go to yours…” he says as he climbs off his bed, pulling his sheet with him. “Shit! This could be bad!” he exclaims as he paces the room, his free hand rising to the bridge of his nose. After a short while of panicking and attempting to gather peace and calm again, he looks back up to you. “Are you ready to go?” Miguel asks as he walks over to his wardrobe.

“Y-yes,” you stutter, trying to keep your eyes off him.

“Good, leave the room and I’ll be out in a minute,” he replies as he opens a drawer, and bends down to search inside it. Yep, definitely time to leave after you spy the bedsheet showing off quite possibly the peachiest ass you have ever laid eyes on. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…

You’re absolutely certain your face is now red and glowing due to the sight before you. Silently, you hop off his bed and leave quickly without giving a backwards glance and try to mentally flush the distracting images from your racing mind.

Hair whips around your face, pushed and pulled by the wild autumnal winds as you step out from Las Sombras. The lights inside are switched off and a handwritten sign is stuck against the glass saying that the nightclub will be closed this evening.

Miguel follows you out of the double-glass doors and locks them before directing you to the alley beside the establishment. “Have you ridden a motorbike before?” he asks as he effortlessly mounts it, his muscular thighs straddling the vehicle. You close your eyes momentarily, pushing that image from his bedroom out of your mind.

“No, I haven’t,” you answer as you walk up beside the bike and gawp at how high the seat is.

Miguel offers you his arm. “Jump on,” he instructs you - your five-foot-something ass is going to struggle getting up otherwise.

The leather of his jacket feels cold against your palm as you take hold of him and hoist yourself up, his arm giving you that extra boost you needed to get your leg over the other side and seated nicely right behind him. Oh dear God… you think to yourself as you now have to deal with the reality of him between your legs on the motorcycle saddle - you’re just thankful he has his back to you.

“Put your arms around me if you need to.” Now you’re really glad he can’t see you, your face is almost as red as a lobster due to your heavy blushing.

Tentatively, your arms encircle his narrow waist as your hands instinctively clutch onto the leather of his jacket.

After what Morbius did to you, you can’t help but feel a little annoyed at yourself for feeling this way. It was easier in that brief moment when you thought Miguel was doing the same thing as his enemy, suspecting he was just as beastly underneath his cunning perception charm.

The Harley’s engine suddenly roars into life, making you flinch at the intimidating sound. Your shock reflected in your grip tightening around him. You’re pretty sure you can feel him chuckling quietly at your reaction.

After shifting the bike into first gear, Miguel twists the right handle forward and the vehicle begins to move. The deep purr of the idle engine changes to a growl that grows louder the faster it rolls down the road.

Silence descends upon the street outside Lyla’s apartment building the moment Miguel switches the engine off. He lets you slip off the bike first before dismounting it himself.

“We need to make a pit-stop first before going to Lyla’s,” he begins as he stuffs the keys to his bike in his tight jeans pocket. “I don’t like the fact I’ve not heard from her to say she isn’t able to come to the nightclub. There could be trouble waiting for us in her apartment.”

You nod and swallow hard as you walk beside him before reaching the entrance to the building. He pushes the door open, but doesn’t let you in first. “Stay behind me,” he mutters to you in a low tone.

You do as he says and slot in behind him until you reach a lift. Miguel jabs the call button to summon it, and you both wait in silence. Disturbing thoughts rush through your mind, making you worry about what you might find when you enter Lyla’s home.

A bell rings to signify the lift has arrived, snapping you out of your downward spiral of horrific images. The metal doors slide open and the both of you step in.

After he presses the number of Lyla’s floor and the doors slide shut again, he opens his mouth to speak. “Do you know how to handle a gun?”

You go bug-eyed for a second at his question as the lift begins to ascend. Perhaps your disturbing thoughts might be more of a reality than you realised. “What? No - w-why?” you ask, but you’re now afraid to hear his answer.

Miguel frowns slightly. “I might have to give you a crash course,” he replies as the lift slows to a stop. The doors slide open revealing a corridor you swear you’ve seen before.

You’re led out of the lift to a door that looks strangely familiar. “How do I remember this place? I know I’ve never been in this building before,” you ask quietly as Miguel slips a key into the door and turns it as stealthily as possible.

“You saw this place in the dream you had last night,” he answers casually in a low tone as he opens the door wide before stepping in. His words make you pause and blink in surprise.

“What? How did you know about my dream?” you ask as you follow him into the apartment.

Miguel looks back at you as he turns the light on. “Because I injected the dream into your mind when I hypnotised you. It was a collection of memories of how I met Lyla, and how Las Sombras came to be.”

“Hmm…” you hum with intrigue. “Sounds oddly efficient…” your words trail off as you notice the state of the apartment. The living space is equipped with basic furniture along with an alarming collection of weapons and ammunition. “What the hell?” you gasp in surprise as you stare at the numerous cases full of handguns, pistols, shotguns and crossbows.

“This is my old apartment,” he begins as he strides over to a glass case and opens it. “I still own it and sometimes crash here if I need to, but it’s ultimately a storage for Lyla to use, should she need it.” Miguel plucks a pistol from a shelf before opening a drawer and taking out a long tube-like object. It seems he wasn’t kidding about you using a gun - you just hope it isn’t necessary.

The vampire also takes out several magazine clips for the weapon before he turns back to face you again. His expression is serious as he approaches you, gun held out in his hand, ready to pass it to you.

“Is it loaded?” you ask, almost stepping back nervously, your heart starting to pound as reality sets in.

“No, it’s not. I’m going to show you how to load it, prime it and reload. Listen carefully,” he takes your hand and places the weapon on your open palm. “Hold it properly,” Miguel instructs you in a demanding, no-nonsense tone.

Three of your fingers wrap around the magazine well, while your index finger hovers by the trigger. You look up at Miguel. “Do you seriously think we’ll end up needing this?”

Red eyes move from the gun, to your gaze. “Why else would Lyla not contact me? Something’s happened. I just hope we’re not too late,” he answers before taking your free hand and placing a magazine clip in it. “Now,” he begins as he points to the underside of the gun, into the hollow area your fingers wrap around. “You slide the clip into this bit here,” he watches you tentatively slip it in and you hear a click, signifying that it is locked into place. “Good. To prime it, - but don’t do it yet, - you pull the slide at the top of the gun back which will load the first bullet into the chamber. You’ll prime it before we step into Lyla’s apartment - I don’t want any misfirings beforehand, alright?”

You give a nod to show you understand.

“This button here,” he continues as he points to a button between the magazine well and the trigger. “Pressing this will release the magazine once all the bullets are spent. Ready for you to put in a new one.”

There is a gentle tug at your jeans pocket as he pulls it open and slides the other magazines into it.

Your hands begin to shake; you’ve never hurt anything intentionally in your life, and now you’re holding a gun, being taught how to use it.

Noticing you shaking, Miguel wraps both his large hands around yours to still them. “I’m sure you know what the tigger does. The rest is easy; point and shoot,” he leans in a little closer, making sure you look directly at him. “Bullets are made of silver so remember the next instruction: don’t hit me, alright?”

Producing a narrow tube from his pocket, he fixes it to the muzzle of your pistol, elongating the barrel. “This is a silencer, to help dampen the sound of your shots. I don’t want to attract any unwanted attention, if we can help it.”

Swallowing hard, you nod as you recap everything he has told you in your mind. Slide the thingy, pull the trigger, don’t hit Miguel, press the button and slide in another magazine… Doesn’t sound too difficult… No pressure…

“Come on…” he mutters to you, pressing a hand against your back to lead you to the door.

Having a gun in your hand feels like the most unnatural thing to you. How do people in movies carry them so casually? You feel as though you’re carrying a ticking time-bomb that could go off any minute.

Miguel leads you to Lyla’s apartment further along the corridor and gives you the nod to prime the gun. Grabbing the cold metal at the top, you pull it backwards ‘til you hear it click before releasing it back into its normal position.

After exchanging a nod between the both of you, the lock mechanism clicks as Miguel unlocks the door and opens it. Once again, the vampire enters first acting as your shield, despite you being the one holding the gun.

The apartment is eerily quiet and dark, no initial signs of life. You see Miguel raise his arm to turn on the light switch, but before he can flip it, the both of you are unexpectedly engulfed in an almost blinding purple light. People have been expecting you.

As you shield your eyes, you feel Miguel recoil violently, almost backing into you.

“Fuck! It’s UV light!” he yells out an anguished cry. “Shoot the lights out!” he continues, turning into you, shielding himself from the harmful UV rays.

Every part of your body buzzes with adrenaline. You have to be quick to protect the vampire now writhing in pain. The vampire, you notice, hasn’t left the room and remains by your side, despite being drenched in light that hurts him.

All you can see is a sharp purple, feeling like it’s piercing your retinas. You squint, desperately trying to see past the glare in front of you. Raising your arm, your finger wraps around the trigger, feeling thankful it’s just a light you’re trying to aim at, and not a person - although you suspect that will be a possibility before too long - given what you’re facing already. Your eyes burn as the offensive light overwhelms your vision, but you try to focus on where it is the most concentrated. A simple squeeze with your finger is all that it takes. The gun jolts in your hand, making you flinch and the bright light dies down, giving your eyes a much needed respite. It seems two more lights are left - you’ll freak out about your precision shot later.

Turning to your left, you aim and shoot again. Now one light is gone, seeing is a little easier, and Miguel doesn’t sound in quite so much pain. Darkness starts to overwhelm the harsh UV rays of the remaining light on your right.

Miguel reaches for the lightswitch again as you take out the last bulb. Your moment of pride doesn’t last long however.

Suddenly, you can see again, and you discover the lights had been operated by vampires who made sure to stand behind them while they were on. Each bulb had been surrounded by small mirrors to concentrate the UV rays, making sure it delivered an extra sting to your vampire partner.

A mad rush ensues as the enemy springs forward with supernatural speed. Before you even think about raising your gun, you find yourself wrapped in Miguel’s arms and wings as he spins you around, using his body as your shield. His hold on you is tight and reassuring while he grunts as the vampires slash and rip at him. Air swirls around your face as he unravels his wings, letting them spread wide, shunting the people there to hurt you both backwards, along with Lyla’s lamp and coat stand. You hear several crashes behind, telling you Miguel had managed to knock them over.

A hot breath caresses the side of your face as he leans down to whisper to you. “Are you ready?” to which you reply with a determined nod. He turns you back, your gun raised as you both spot the first vampire prone on the floor. Knowing that they’ll hurt you if you don’t hurt them first seems to make pulling the trigger easier.

“Aim for the chest,” Miguel growls in your ear to encourage you before another sudden rush catches his attention.

You fire a round at the vampire on the floor as he attempts to get up, hitting him squarely in the chest. The silver bullet ignites his insides and he burns from within until there is nothing left but a pile of ash.

As you watch with your mouth agape at the horror before you, Miguel’s wing sweeps another inbound vampire off his feet. He turns you to face the creature now in a heap on Lyla’s couch. Without any further prompting, you know exactly what to do. With a keen eye, you pull the trigger once more, dispatching them swiftly.

The following moments feel very much like a disturbing dance of death between you and Miguel. A well-oiled machine, alternating between knocking charging vampires over, shooting them and shielding you while you reload.

During this time, you can’t see any sign of Lyla.

One by one, each vampire is taken down and reduced to a pile of ash until the room falls silent. No more rushing feet or vicious vampiric hisses.

A familiar chill runs through your body as it stops producing adrenaline and the shaking begins. Did you just do all that? Not only did you just shoot a gun, you brought an end to several vampires. Speaking of which, the one remaining vampire in the room has his arms around you. He protected you and guided you through the terrifying moment.

“Are you alright?” he asks you as he remains holding you, making sure you can still stand. He can feel your body shake in his grip, giving him cause for concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answer as you finally lower your gun. Your thumb presses against the button on the gun, letting the magazine slide out and clatter on the floor. Then, you pluck the last clip out of your pocket, stash it into the weapon and prime it once more. “That’s my last magazine,” you warn him as his grip around you loosens, the comfort of having his arms around your body leaving you.

Miguel observes Lyla’s living area, head turning from left to right, scanning for anything that might offer any clues as to what happened here. Thanks to his wings, he knocked over her light and coat stand while defending the both of you. Apart from those and the vast piles of ash around the room, everything else seemed fairly tidy and normal. A frown spreads across his face as he considers stepping into Lyla’s bedroom. “Come with me…” he murmurs as he makes his way across the room.

The door to Lyla’s room is ajar, with nothing but a darkness beyond it. Faint groans of discomfort reach your ears the closer you both get to her bedroom, spurring Miguel to dash inside and turn the light on.

“Lyla!” he cries out in shock as you follow closely behind. His business partner is bound and gagged, arms tied behind her back as she lay on her bed. Her eyes wide, her head shaking frantically as her noises grow louder, almost as if she doesn’t want you and him to be there. You hear muffled noises sounding like she’s shouting “no!” through the material stuffed in her mouth. Dashing to the side of her bed, you place the gun on the pillow and pull the gag from her lips.

“B-Behind you!” she chokes out, the words almost coming out in one go.

Like a scene from a horror film, you watch Morbius rush forward into the room before Miguel has a chance to turn around fully. Miguel’s body lurches suddenly as you hear something like a blade slice into his side, followed by an agonised cry, his red eyes widening upon impact. Your jaw drops as Lyla writhes uncontrollably, screaming out for her friend.

Your mind takes over and you reach out to Lyla, undoing the ties around her wrists.

Morbius grins menacingly as he wrenches the knife out and shoves his foe down onto the bed, Lyla only just fortunate enough to roll out of the way in time.

An expression born from sheer agony is plastered all over Miguel’s face as he hits the mattress. He pants heavily as the afflicted area in his side burns and stings, his hand clutching the wound.

Adrenaline coursing through your body once again appears to slow time down. You reach for the gun and raise it directly at the evil beast, his arms already plunging the knife down towards Miguel. It’s now or never.

Your finger squeezes the trigger, firing a round into Morbius’ arm, his body flinching backwards as the searing pain of a silver bullet breaks through the fabric of his clothing and flesh.

Despite being in dire pain, Miguel lifts his right leg and boots his enemy in the chest, shunting him further back, striking the wall and collapsing on the floor. You take another shot, but frustratingly it lodges into his left shoulder. Your hands shake as you panic. With a well placed shot, you could end this; pressure now mounting on you by a tenfold.

In the corner of your eye, you see Miguel try (and fail) to sit up, while Lyla pulls her own gun from her bedside table and takes aim - you suspect that it’s also loaded with silver bullets.

You press forward, walking around the foot of the bed, flanking Miguel as Lyla does the same.

Annoyingly, Morbius keeps his chest well protected, making sure it’s not in direct line of fire. Regardless, you pull the trigger again, gritting your teeth, willing for the silver bullet to burn even more than the last.

As you hear a pain fuelled yell from Morbius, movement from Miguel gives you pause. Still clutching his side, he finally manages to rise from the bed and lunges for his foe, beginning the battle for the blade.

Using Miguel’s momentum, Morbius flips him backwards out of Lyla’s room, sending him crashing awkwardly and painfully onto his back.

Amidst the chaos unfolding in front of you, you hear bangs from the floor below. It makes you wince thinking just how much noise you’re all making. This needs to end quickly before you attract too much attention.

Morbius makes a move to follow Miguel out of Lyla’s room, while you both advance and continue to fire. The evil beast's true target is now abundantly clear, although, with every shot fired into him, each second becomes more agonising.

The very moment you get a clear shot, the gun clicks uselessly with every press of the trigger, all bullets spent, and the window of opportunity gone in a flash. You curse angrily as Morbius turns into mist before descending on Miguel once again.

Your heart is in your mouth as both you and Lyla watch helplessly while the two vampires wrestle on the floor. Grunts, yells and snarls fill the living room as the blade alternates between being pointed upwards and downwards in the power struggle. As desperation strikes, your mind rushes through anything you can do to help. You suspect the blade of the knife is silver, and the pair are fighting to lodge it into the other’s heart, in a bid to kill. Silver… Your hand pats your jeans pocket, remembering that you put your rings in there when you met Peter and his family.

In a moment of utter madness, you toss the gun aside and slip the silver bands onto your fingers and charge forward as Lyla shouts after you. You’re determined to give Miguel any chance to stab Morbius and end the threat to Nueva York. The sense of sound and your rational thinking are non-existent as you reach the evil vampire who still straddles Miguel.

Given that you know from experience how sharp his teeth are, you don’t dare put your hand near his face. The next best option for you is his neck. Your hand thrusts forward as your fingers grip the front and squeeze, making sure that the rings come into contact with his mottled skin.

Morbius’ pupils contract while his eyes widen as the silver pressed against his neck burns him. You see smoke rise as he howls in pain, his grip on the knife loosening.

“Yes!” Miguel grunts out with his final bit of effort as his fingers eventually wrench the weapon from his foe’s clutches.

You push harder, giving his neck and extra firm squeeze before Morbius begins to grab onto your wrist. Mild panic sets in when you spy his claws.

Gripping his enemy’s clothing, Miguel thrusts the knife upwards. But the black whirling mist returns as Morbius disappears and the knife pierces nothing but the air as you start the fall forward. You squeal as Morbius’ sudden absence means you nearly come into contact with the blade, but Miguel pulls it away before you land on it.

Hands from behind grip you, easing your descent to the floor. “Easy, easy,” you hear Lyla say with effort behind her voice, trying not to drop you.

Her business partner stands up, his incensed red eyes glaring down at the knife in his open palm. Rage, frustration and irritation has risen beyond boiling point, and is in danger of reaching Krakatoa proportions of monumental eruptions. “That… fucking COWARD!” Miguel screams, his fangs bared as he launches the knife across the room, lodging itself into a wall.

“Hey!” Lyla shouts, “I know you’re pissed but that is my wall you just put a hole in,” she stands up straight and looks around the place. Her lamp and coat stand strewn over the floor, remnants of dead vampire covering her furniture, the whole place is a mess. “Look at this place!”

You rest your gaze back on Miguel, who is clearly not giving a care in the world about the state of Lyla’s apartment for just a moment. His breathing is heavy, filtering through gritted teeth. Suddenly, his breath hitches as his hands rush to his side. “Fuck!” he hisses as his knees buckle.

Lyla returns to his side as you do too, helping him down to the floor again as he winces and clutches the stab wound. The both of you guide him to lean against a kitchen counter. “Just sit still and regenerate as much as you can,” his business partner instructs him like a bossy matron in a hospital as she gets up and goes looking for a dustpan and brush.

Soft panting fills the air as Miguel concentrates on healing himself, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment to relax and calm his frayed nerves.

Sitting beside the injured vampire, you observe him quietly, that is until he eventually places his free hand on your arm.

“You did well, Y/N. A natural, in fact,” he mumbles, a slither of red peeking out from under his heavy eyelids.

No matter how much you try to hold it back, his compliment brings a smile to your face. “I don’t know whether to be proud or scared of myself.”

Miguel laughs lazily, air huffing between his parted lips. His chuckle hurt his wound slightly, making him hiss momentarily. “Be proud for now, worry about it later…”

Now that you get a proper look at him, you can tell his clothes and the back of his neck had been scratched up. You guess that happened during the fight with the horde of vampires when you entered the apartment. “Are you going to be okay?” you ask, sounding more concerned than you originally intended.

Air rushes through his nostrils as he takes in a deep breath. “Yeah, I’ll be alright. I suppose a good part about being a vampire is I can recover from injuries faster,” he mumbles as he peels his hand away from his side. “Getting better already…”

As you two talk, Lyla makes several trips to and from the dustbin, pouring grey ash into it after every trip.

Miguel’s hand finally slips from your arm and thuds against the floor slightly. “He’s getting stronger,” he announces, which you assume is for Lyla’s benefit. His business partner stops what she’s doing and looks at him, concern etched across her face.

“We have to stop him before he does his usual disappearing act,” he grumbles slightly, still feeling angry over yet another opportunity to kill Morbius slipping through his fingers.

A question pops into your mind. “Can’t you do that too? You’ve said before that you inherit other traits from Morbius. So, surely you can do that too? Play him at his own game?”

Miguel exchanges a look with Lyla before locking eyes with you. “I- um…” he pauses with hesitation, “...never learned how,” he answers, almost looking ashamed before glancing left and right, thinking of something. “But, that’s not going to kill Morbius is it?” he asks as he prepares to stand up again, which you watch intently, making sure he won’t squish you if he falls.

“No, but it could have got you out of trouble, like Morbius sneaking up and attacking you,” you reply as you, too, stand. A very faint snort comes from Lyla as she dumps another load of ash into her bin, clearly finding your response amusing.

Large hands rest on his narrow hips as his eyes narrow slightly at your comment. “Well, until fairly recently, I haven’t had the need to try.” He folds his arms shortly after, the tiniest hint of a pout forming across his plump lips.

The metal lid of Lyla’s bin clangs shut as Lyla deposits the remaining pile of ash in it. “Y/N has a point. You’re not using everything you have at your disposal,” she begins as she puts the dustpan and brush away under her kitchen sink. “If you want Morbius gone, you’re going to have to pull out all of the stops.”

Miguel’s little pout turns into a frown as he tries to think about how he can teach himself to vanish like Morbius does, but he guesses that his foe must have learned to do it himself, too. After his brief moment of contemplation, he brushes his thoughts aside and looks at Lyla. “How are you holding up?”

His business partner leans against her kitchen counter as she folds her arms. “I’m okay. Tired and a little sore. I guess I was followed and captured when I got back here.”

Boots thud dully against the wooden flooring as Miguel goes to correct the coat stand and lamp. “It’s not safe for you here, Lyla. I want you to sleep at the shelter for the foreseeable future. Until we put an end to Morbius.”

As you hear the exchange between the two, you think Lyla will argue to remain here, but you’re surprised to see her agree. She really does trust him. So much so, she knows that when he tells her to leave her apartment to stay safe, she does it without question.

“Pack your essentials and drive to Las Sombras, okay?” he continues, “I have to run an errand with Y/N.”

Lyla nods as she moves back into her bedroom to grab her bag and pack.

Back on the road again, Miguel’s Harley Davidson roars as he makes it go as fast as he legally can. He swerves in and out of lanes, climbing through the evening traffic, hoping to reach your apartment building as soon as possible. Anxiousness is at an alltime high, knowing what could be lurking in the streets of Nueva York. He just wants to get you back to the shelter and out of the dark and dangerous shroud of night.

It has been twenty-four hours since you were last in your apartment. So much has happened since then that it makes your head spin. There has been a lot to unpack from everything you have learned and yet there is more drama developing. Who knew so much drama could come from a single tip-off from a civilian of Nueva York. You start off as an inquisitive journalist and now you’re in the midst of essentially a bloody and vicious war between two vampires.

After experiencing the horrors from earlier, you now expect to see your room full of vampires when you switch your main light on as you enter your apartment. But relief floods your mind when nothing of the sort appears.

The giant steps over the threshold, ducking under your door frame, but as you watch him you see that he looks tired and a little gloomier than normal.

“Pack a bag with a change of clothes. We have a washing machine at the shelter so you don’t need to pack too much,” Miguel instructs you as he takes in his surroundings. You have a nice collection of plants - the verdant colours adding the feel of life to your home. Overall, he thinks your apartment looks cosy and comfortable - certainly a lot more homely than a repurposed subway station.

Leaving Miguel in your open-plan living room area and kitchen, you enter your bedroom and find a bag. Grabbing a collection of tops, underwear, jeans and leggings you stuff them in a case along with toiletries and a hair brush.

With your bag slung over your shoulder, and your laptop case in hand, you approach Miguel who’s resting his weight on the back of your couch. His usually tanned skin looking paler than before. “Are you alright, Miguel?” you ask, as concern etches across your face.

His weary red eyes look up at you before straightening himself back up and clearing his throat, although he doesn’t look entirely steady. “I’m fine,” answers. “Are you ready?” His right hand, which looks like it’s shaking, reaches into his pocket for his keys as he takes a step toward your apartment door. However, he never makes it. To your surprise, his knees buckle from underneath him and the vampire collapses heavily on the floor. “Shit!” he growls in frustration, “not now!”

Thank you for reading part 4 of Vampire Miguel. I hope you're enjoying it so far.

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