Futch Enthusiast

NOTE: All characters are 18+ and all writing below contains 18+ content

Tara Carpenter:

Missed You

Billie Eilish:

Show You Off

Just The Two Of Us

Grace Ashcroft:

Under Cover

Night Off

Replacement

Ellie Williams:

Figure Me Out

Wanda Maximoff:

Vital

Grace Ashcroft. Patient from room 11: Low temperature, significantly pale, claims of dizziness and headaches. No open wounds. No internal bleeding.

With a sigh, you set aside the chart you looked over. Standing by the mid sectioned nursing station, your elbows rest on the high counter, which lets you rub your strained sight without much effort. Hands still damp from washing them earlier, your finger tips push lightly back and forth in an attempt to wash out the fatigue planted inside.

God, your feet are killing you.

It’s been almost 8 hours already, so your shift is close to an end. Just around 20 more minutes as you just checked on your scratched tethered watch strapped tightly around your wrist.

Slouched, you open your eyes again to meet the blurred brightness of the emergency room. Your movements still carry a sluggish drag. Yet, you push against the edge of the counter, deeply inhaling to clear the blockage that threatens to exhaust you to a pulp. “Hey, I’m gonna do a last check in for room 11 before leaving,” you speak groggily, once raising your head and facing another nurse. Recognizably, it’s the night shift nurse that’s known to watch over the same area as you do in mornings. Must’ve come early.

He looks over at you by the sound of your voice as he handles a separate chart. “Okay, sounds good.” The taller man towers beside you, looking over at who was kept in said enclosed space in the far distance. “Oh, Ashcroft.” His head spins back to you. “She came in earlier, but doctors couldn’t figure out what’s wrong. You should do another vital sign check.”

“Got it,” you answer with a tight smile, a single nod following before turning away.

The halls are oddly dead, no other signs of life besides the few other physicians or nurses that roam patient to patient—not like you’d complain about a quieter end to your shift after hours of constant screaming and fluids being splattered over you. But still, chaos is the only thing that could describe each day in the ER. It’s hard to expect anything less after working here for what feels like decades.

Your footsteps fill in the atmosphere despite being cushioned and fabricated for demanding days. But in comparison to the series of knocking against the door you reach, it flattens.

Pushing it forward after a short moment, you speak before even seeing the ill blonde frozen like a statue at your arrival. “Hi Grace, my name is Y/N. I’m here to do another quick check up,” you start robotically as per usual to the routine you’ve set up. You’re looking over at her inexplicable chart again, oblivious until you peek up at the bed she lays on.

Meeting Grace’s gaze, you find her positioned awkwardly—hands seemingly pushing up to sit forward before she subtly falters and lowers back down on her elbows. And distractingly, she looks like a frightened feline apart from her paper skin as she’s dressed in the sad drab of a gown.

“Oh–sorry if I startled you,” you lightly reassure, trying to ease the feeling of spikes crawling on her back—as unnoticeable as it is to the eye. There’s a brief pause when she only stares at you, not exactly reciprocating the same level of consolation when you stand there left stranded with your hands tangled together. So instead, you clear your throat. “Is everything okay?”

At your question, Grace’s body twitches for a half second. She rolls her shoulder back stiffly and looks away before answering along the shaky lines of her shy answer. “Y-Yeah, sorry, I was getting comfortable…” Her voice complements her weakened state, a rasp hanging off whilst she rests her head back on the pillow in a defeated manner. “Could you maybe—um turn off one of the lights?” she murmurs, tilting her head up enough to gesture at the mimicking white light above. “Just kinda bright in here.”

“Yes, of course,” you quickly and politely reply, reaching behind you by the closed door to flick one of the switches down.

Grace responds with a heavy breath out, lying fully on her back as she basks in the darker tint that plunges the surroundings. She stands out like a ghost in the room.

You step forward to meet her at the edge of the bed, flickering back to her stats before beginning the procedure you mentioned. Already, the head of the bed is positioned forward to make things easier for you while you pull the stethoscope that was left hanging around your neck. The rubber material slides across your nape as you explain. “We’ll do a check on heart rate first, okay?” You lean forward, slightly hovering above.

“Okay,” she softly mutters, her sunken gaze focused up on you—though to be exact, your features. Familiarity wanders in her expression with her brows scrunched a bit.

The earpieces are stuffed into your ears before you steadily connect the other end to her chest, over the white cloth that lays between her chilled skin and the metal. You peek up at her for a moment and end up catching her futile stare before she immediately turns away. “Take a deep breath in,” you gently order, glancing back down to her chest that rises in return. Then a huff out. Albeit, as you examine and listen, there’s a noticeable pace that quickens upon every second.

Grace, still opposed to making eye contact again, lays there scatterbrained. Notably, her irises subtly tremble like a thought occurred, or multiple. You couldn’t tell, but it all disrupts the monitoring as you pull away.

“Nervous?” you question, ensuring your tone doesn’t come off as a bite with a warmer peak of the corners of your lips. It catches her attention. “Lots of people are here, it’s okay.” You place the chest piece back on for another trial, and continue in hopes of distracting her. It works for most. “Have you been to the ER before?”

Without being completely on the spot as you’re looking at where you press down, she replies, studying your face another time. “Uh–yeah, I have—here. I think… it was a month ago,” Grace answers. Although she pauses for a while before meekly murmuring. “I–I remember you treating me actually.”

Your grip loosens to stop and glance back up in surprise. “Really?”

“Mhm,” she hums fondly. “I mean—I understand if you don’t remember because it gets hectic and stuff…”

You fix your posture when taking the stethoscope off, finishing the exam when her heart rate slows down in contrast to just seconds before. Strange enough. But at the mention of her words, you find a folder at the back of your mind to open and realize. “Oh! It was an attack involving a criminal case, right?”

Grace’s head hesitantly nods in response, watching you pull the equipment back around you.

“No yeah, I remember now. Sorry for not realizing. It’s just been a long day,” you sigh with a dismissive smile, walking away towards the box of the gloves that hang on the stale wall. As you lazily pull out two and put them on, turned away from her, your memory jogs back to that previous date. What was it? An animal attack?

All that came back to you was a drastic image of a disturbed body that should’ve been declared dead. Yet, somehow she managed to practically revive on her own just minutes after her heart rate flattened. Like something possessed her body back into its own life form. No one was able to explain what exactly happened, but seeing her now, you guess that there’s more to it alongside her most recent charting.

“Okay,” you start, spinning back around with a slap to your skin from the blue elastic around your hands. “I’ll just do a quick look in your mouth, and we’ll be done for now until further notice.”

Grace slowly sits up at your explanation, scooting to the edge where her legs swing and hang off to face you. Once standing in between her knees, you pull out a small light to flash, maneuvering a hand to lightly hold her chin down. She opens her mouth to a small degree, her eyes remaining intently on yours.

You gently urge her jaw lower, tilting her head back enough to scan the light around inside. There’s saliva that pools around her tongue—an unusual amount. Not dehydration like you expected for other cases. As you bend down slightly to look further up the roof of her mouth, you watch for any other anomalies, yet instead the only thing that catches your eye is her slightly sharper canines peeking just enough below her lips. Though, you’ve seen other people with teeth naturally or modified like that. There’s not much else to add.

Without much of an explanation, you click the light off and shove it back into your pocket to meet her gaze, only to see that it dropped while you were busy. It aims at the side of your neck, her zoning out whilst her pupils are strangely dilated. You quirk your head to the side and your brow up in concern. Tiny bumps rise on your skin in an odd sense that makes you want to rub the sensation away at where she stares.

Right. So there’s definitely something off.

“You could close your mouth now,” You clear your throat to push down the awkward tension, backing away. “So we’re not completely sure what’s wrong, but doctors will come around soon and do a thorough check after the rest of the test results come back.” By the trash, you toss the soiled gloves away after pulling them off. “Any questions?”

“U-Uh no, no questions,” Grace shakes her head with more vigor as she refocuses, then swallows. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you smile cordially, lowering the head of the bed for her once she’s laid back down into that frail state. “Call light’s right beside you. Let us know if you need anything.”

Turned away, you walk out of the room and close the door behind you softly after she gives a simple nod.

The brighter space engulfs you again when you move out to the station, spotting the same nurse from earlier. Just about the same moment, he notices you as well with raised brows of curiosity.

“How was she?” he asks, standing straighter once you reach a respectable distance.

“She’s…” you trail off, your gaze wandering down to the floor as you think before finishing. “She shows signs of anemia, but there’s other symptoms I’m not sure about.” You pause. “This is the second time she’s been here, and also having a weird chart—so you should look out for any more symptoms and do another temp and BP check in a little while after she rests.”

He mentally takes note of your summary. “Okay, yeah I will,” he lightly responds, glancing over at her room that’s barely in either of your lines of sight from there. Patients and other workers cross from either side, obscuring the view.

An odd chill runs through your body before you subconsciously lift up a hand to rub the back of your neck. But the tingle of unsettlement lingers when turning back to him.

“Great, I’ll um—head out now.”

“Get home safe,” he chews, flicking back to you.

A hum leaves your tucked lips as you part, leaving the beeps of the larger compartment to fade away while you make way to pack up. Entering the darker hallway, it leads to the lockers that contain workers’ belongings—yours being at the end by the open door. Here, it’s almost silent besides the clanging as you take out your bag after pressing in the embedded code, and lightly slamming it back into place to close and lock on its own.

Although, the second you sling the strap of your bag over your shoulder, a subtle noise interrupts the dead air. You still yourself, hearing another sound of rummaging outside and further down the hall, somewhat of a bang. It’s nowhere near—for sure, but doubt continuously whirls to keep you on your toes as you wait for any other disturbance.

A small beat passes when your shoulders relax, your bag slipping off just barely. Under the assumption of another person being in close proximity, you slowly step out from the doorway, peeking out the thin halls to check, but you're met with an empty space where lights hauntingly dim. One side reveals the brighter side of the rest of the ER—few people pacing around in the far—while the other contrasts with a long narrow path leading to one of the secluded rooms. The blood bank.

You feel a twist in your gut, the slim hall practically growing farther the longer you stare down there until you squeeze your eyes shut to shake the dizziness out. You thought the light problems were fixed before, but it remains to be an issue as the dimness starts to sporadically flicker. Of course it flickers.

Knowing the dangers of a patient or anyone unauthorized roaming around, you resulted in dropping your bag on the ground, letting it sit at the corner of the entrance carelessly before trudging down the echoing tiles. Every few seconds you look over behind you whilst continuing to walk with heavy steps.

It didn’t take long to meet the larger door past the quick corner turn. Like any other in the ER, it’s blurry but transparent, revealing a light on inside, which wasn’t anything out of the ordinary considering it may just be another worker. But the sounds you keep hearing pull you forward as you cling to the handle and tug down, using your upper body to push the door and enter.

Immediately, you’re hit by the chill temperature. And an intake of the cold fumes halts at a pause as you spot the same fragile patient from just minutes earlier. Except now, she holds a pint bag of blood.

Grace yelps from your intrusion, backing up into the fridge she evidently broke to access as it bangs against the wall. The rest of the collection of blood swerves against each other on top of the metal they lay on, clanging loudly. You couldn’t even process how quick she was to get here in the first place before easing your voice.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you harshly ask in lasting shock as you hastefully approach.

She further dodges and backs up from you in another direction while cautiously holding the prized yet stolen possession to her chest. “I-I-I’m really sorry—I need this,” she answers in a panic.

You stop your tracks with backwards puff in your movements, noticing the distress she expresses through her frantic lens. For that moment you still, a sigh leaving through your nose. Trying to come up with the best solution under situations is what you’re best at, right?

“Grace, I know it’s taking a while to figure out what exactly it is that’s making you sick,” you say calmly, and steadily gesture your hands up. “But I promise you that doing a transfusion here is a lot safer than doing it yourself if that was what you were planning. Either way we’re still unsure about what the issue is when you’ve been checked for no bleeding—external and internal—so a transfusion might not even help.”

She stays unresponsive, hands trembling as her grip tightens around the plastic seal—almost enough for it to pop.

“Fuck, okay,” you utter under a breath. “I’m gonna have to call security if you’re not—”

Before you could even finish your sentence, Grace cuts off its flow and rushes at an abnormal speed for her state to block the door, her back hugging it as she exasperatingly retorts. “Don’t—please don’t! You don’t get it, I-I-I need to leave with this, and I swear I won’t cause anymore problems if you let me go. I’ll recover on my own.”

“You’re seriously doing this?” you reply in frustration, following her movements as you step towards her. It’s already been 8 hours of non stop procedures and calls that you had to make, and this was really just the cherry smacked on top. Or maybe patience isn’t your best virtue right now. “Like—are you okay? Did you hit your head or something?” you spew out in an accusational tone and scrutinize her from where you stand, your hands clenched as you point out. “You look paler than when I last saw you. There’s no way this single bag of blood is going to help.”

“It—it will,” Grace weakly argues, her voice becoming less steady. She looks down at it another time, noticing the way her body uncontrollably reacts with a twitch at the red sight.

Likewise, you’re able to observe how her breathing progressively gets erratic, her mouth parting in the process. And just then you get a sliver of the pointy ends of her two teeth again. Though this time, she reveals their longer length that had grown since then as she winces, a vigorous shake of her head confusing you further.

“P-P-Please, I can’t,” she babbles the mutter without direction, clearly losing herself in a haze she can’t escape from.

Hesitantly, you step forward, concern deeply etched in between your eyebrows as you soften your tone. “Grace?”

She ignores your call, leaving you in teetered silence as her gaze remains zoned out on the bag. Until finally, she breaks.

You stare in disbelief, shakily backing up whilst unable to look away from the disturbing view with sickness almost erupting from your stomach. Her teeth bury themselves into the plastic after easily breaking through the thick layer that once concealed the now exposed liquid. Red paints the entirety of the lower half of her face, some of it dripping down her chin and staining the gown still wrapped loosely around her frail figure. Little of it spurts out of the bag, splattering the ground like a set crime scene.

Eagerly, Grace lets the current of blood flow into her mouth, swallowing whatever she could at a quick pace in spite of the fear you inflected in front of her. She couldn’t think. Not right now.

It’s been weeks since she’s been able to feed.

After the tragedy that occurred west of Racoon City, the people had been keeping the works up with chattering about the possibilities. Especially when multiple FBI units investigated the area only to have one come back. Rumors spread about supernatural entities possessing a certain building, causing a disruption as multitudes of life had been wiped out within its proximity.

Unbeknownst to you, Grace was the only survivor of the case. Her body, torn by a mauling of chiropteran creatures rooted from the area, led to these insensible changes. Now, she acts as a fugitive rushing to get what’s needed before hurting anyone accidentally while being lost in starvation.

And she just keeps on testing her luck.

Grace pulls away from the bag, trembling as it drops to the hard floor where the spilled blood pools. Her eyes flicker back up to you after her control settles back in, and an alarm sets off in her head as she realizes what you witnessed. “I-I can explain everything to you! I promise I’m not going hurt you—“

“W-What the fuck are you?” you shakily raise your voice, shock thrumming inside your limbs whilst you step back again. Close to hitting the floor.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me—I’ve been trying to hide and–and avoid any people, but this was the only thing I could think of doing to stop it.”

Pressure and an unsatisfied fill ages Grace as she spills her desperate words, pitched by a slight whine she can’t help. While you keep a tight tension throughout your body, you carefully study her feeble posture and deep-set eyes. She sounds hoarse, like her throat is still dry even after the incident she pulled. And you don’t know what it is, but all these factors add up to your empathy being dragged towards her.

“How—” You swallow. “How long have you been like this?”

“Since I woke up here a month ago—I’m not sure.” She stops momentarily to swipe her chin using the back of her hand, getting the drip close to falling. Then staring at the transfer on her. “I-I don’t think I’ve eaten anything since then, but… sometimes I faze out without remembering much and I feel like at some point it happened with other people around me, and… you know.”

Grace gestures with a weak arm. Refusingly, she doesn’t look back up at you, too lost in her own mind as she thinks of the possibilities she’s admitted.

The room, still torturously cold for the two of you, remains quiet. You continue to think to yourself, trying to find the best outcome when you barely know what she’s capable of doing. There’s been plenty of media made up for vampires, and so far that’s the closest to what you could diagnose. Yet, given their rep, it’s hard to say if it’s accurate.

Fangs, check. Pale, check. Blood drinking, check. Scary… not so much.

“So… what happens if I let you go? Are you gonna end up trying this again?” you question, letting a heavy breath loose.

“I don’t know,” Grace murmurs back, staring up through her eyelashes sheepishly. She nibbles on her bottom lip. “I don’t know what to do now.”

“There’s no way for you to get blood—any other option?”

She shakes her head.

Your mind races to come up with an answer. A solution to just both your problems as you feel a strain in your leg reoccur. But you can’t leave her here. She’s like any other person—like any other patient you care for. Except, just really unfortunate.

Weighing your choices, you keep your eyes from wandering, making contact with hers as she waits for you to respond whilst in a shrunken stance. Helping is what you do everyday for your job, and yet there’s so much stopping you from doing the same for Grace. But still your morals take control over the words you spit out no matter how hard you try to reason it.

Hell, you’ve already heard of a story about a guy made of mold reattaching his hand back on like nothing after it was cut off. What’s one more about a blood sucking vampire when she acts like a kicked cur?

“Okay,” you sigh, taking the lead. “I’ll… I’ll help you leave, but I can’t have you coming back here and possibly hurting anyone, alright?”

“Y-Yeah, I won’t.” Grace turns her head side to side forcefully, wiping her hands on whatever was left white on the gown as its wet front sticks to her skin.

You nod, weaving carefully around Grace and the splatters of blood, then reaching the door to pull open slowly, checking for anyone before muttering with your head spun back. “I’ll tell someone that the bag got punctured somehow when I dropped it, and they’ll come clean it up.” Your finger points outside. “For now, you can get to the exit at the other end of the hall and wait there until I come back.”

—---------------

Gingerly, you pace yourself back to where you left Grace, the green light plastering “EXIT” above the door to direct you in the gloominess of the hall. By now you’ve already notified one of the janitors about the “spill,” claiming that most of the blood lost from it had soaked itself into a pair of scrubs you’ve thrown out already.

“Here, change out of that,” you say with a puff in your lungs, closing the heavy door behind you with a soft click. You reach out to hand her a set of clean clothes, which are hers that were kept in her room until you retrieved it. The light weight of them leaves your grasp as you watch her hesitantly hold it, looking around the surrounding stairwell in a shy manner. And then you, as you obliviously stare.

But it quickly pieces before you spin 180 to face the wall. “Right, sorry.”

The rummaging of fabrics rubbing together fills the silence as you wait. There’s a nervous tic in your body while you blankly look to the ground, trying to come up with something to say to cut off the awkward line connecting you two.

“Do you um—have a way home?”

There’s a pause in the movements, a loss of friction.

“I… don’t really have anywhere to go,” Grace replies in a mumble. It resumes again. “It’s okay though. I haven’t been needing to sleep anyway.”

“But you still need a place to stay,” you counter in concern, tempted to turn. “Something could happen to you if you keep wandering.”

She doesn’t bother to fight against your argument, lying back into the quietness as she finally pulls her top down to finish. Only, it makes you peek behind your shoulder.

“Grace, I’m serious. I mean if anyone else finds out what you are, they could easily turn you in or something,” you continue, fully facing her now that she’s done and holding the dirty gown bunched up in her hand where loose strings hang.

“Then why haven’t you done that with me?”

“...I don’t know.” You shake your head.

You’ve asked yourself that plenty of times.

But before either of you could keep the conversation afloat, footsteps outside the door catch your hearing. A curse is uttered as you step away from it slowly. “We should hurry, someone’s probably looking for you,” you say, grabbing her free wrist in a gentle grip. Note that you feel a matching temperature to that of ice.

A repetition of your steps combined follow each other in the quietude of the high roofed section as you pull her down along the set of stairs. She remains compliant despite not speaking, letting you drag her out of the building to escape the enticing smell of the ER. Once you both reach the actual exit, the harsh wind knocks you back before you let go of her to shield your face.

Scanning the parking lot that darkness looms over, you squint past the secluded vehicles around, finding only yourselves when the most you see are leaves clashing against the concrete. With a pep, you walk faster to your car before the unlocking beep echoes in the empty air.

“Get in,” you order blatantly, opening the back door.

Grace complies, cowering her head as she crouches further in for you to follow when she notices you not leaving to go to the driver's seat. A sigh leaves you again after the door shuts—a mix of relief as your legs are given a rest while also agitation from dealing with an occurrence past your day shift.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” Her voice is a mutter, laced with shame. “I already feel bad making you cover for me.”

“You didn’t ‘make’ me. I did it on my own.”

She looks at you with a glint. As you return a sympathetic glance, you notice her eyes glossed over. Then down to her lips where blood remains messily marked despite her attempt of wiping it off earlier probably when she was changing.

Down to a softer tone, you murmur. “Here, I’ll get you cleaned up better.” To retrieve a cloth, you bend over and reach into the arm rest in the middle of the two front seats to pull out, just before finding a stranded bottle of water intentionally left for emergecies—unlike this. You damp the soft material, carefully pouring a cap sized puddle and letting it soak in. “Stay still.”

You reach up to cup her cheek holding her there as your other hands come up to lightly swipe at any stains left on her face. Silence fills the clustered space, your body turned awkwardly to a degree as you think to yourself, unfocused on Grace’s own gaze glued onto you. Truthfully, you don’t know why you’re so willing to sit here and help her. You don’t owe her anything. You don’t even know her that well. But every time she looks at you that certain way, there’s an urgency you can’t seem to grasp.

Pulling away, the cloth is left soiled with a hint of red.

“Thank you,” Grace utters.

Your head subtly nods in response, letting the ambience sit longer while you keep watching her movements become more and more restless. Her skin is still pale, face evidently displaying all the tiring traits she carries. There must be more for you to do—to help with. She needs it, doesn’t she?

So this time, you’re the one to break with a hushed voice.

“You can control yourself now, right?”

She blinks. “What do you mean..?”

You pause, hesitating before murmuring again. “Like… if I let you take my blood, would you lose yourself again?"

Grace stares at you with her eyes widened and heightened brows. “I—I couldn’t do that,” she quickly refuses without answering your actual question.

“Look, it would make me feel better knowing it’d be me taking a safer hit than someone else down the line.”

A hill travels down her throat before meekly asking, “What if I hurt you?”

She waits a long beat for you to answer.

“I trust you.”

As stupid as it is to say that, it’s true. For whatever reason you can’t explain.

Grace looks away from you after being stunted shortly by your words, eyes fixed outside the window, and deep in her hollow mind. She knows she needs this just as much as you know, but doubt feeds off her..

Your hand gently comes back up to her cheek, reeling her gaze back onto you. “Let me help you,” you pause with a slight smile before your mutter breaks the tension. “Again.”

Immediately, Grace is eased by your calm voice, hanging onto it as she gawks with a strange warm sensation in spite of what her body physically feels like. She lets out a huff enticed with amusement. “If you let me return the favor somehow.”

“I’ll come up with something,” you say with a growing grin.

As she catches the sight of it, she falls silent. Her gaze traces a triangle from there to both your eyes just before settling back to your lips. Only an unpersistent sigh leaves her when she sparks your interest.

“Okay… I’ll try to do it.”

You perk up, somewhat surprised by the lack of fight she has. But still, you languidly move to get comfortable before stopping yourself for a second. “Would sitting on you be easier in here?” you ask, pushing yourself up once she nods tentatively.

Grace, plopped like a bundle of nerves, only watches you with an eager thump in her heart. Her hands remain at her sides, unsure of what role to take on. However, you seem experienced enough to take the lead even if you’ve never exactly had someone drink blood from you.

There’s a first for everything you guess.

When you’re straddled onto her lap she nervously looks up at you through blacked out pupils. Though, she can’t help the way her eyes wander your skin—your neck on a platter practically as you lean against her. Her mouth is close enough for you to feel the fanning of her breath, causing the familiar chill to return through small bumps expanding across the entirety of your body. The feeling leaves your mind in a cloudy state, tension on your shoulders gravitating you. Like sounds were the only thing grounding you this moment. Anticipation fills you as your eyes squeeze shut, waiting for a stabbing sensation.

However, on Grace’s end, she struggles to lift her arms up, afraid for multiple reasons—your comfort and safety. Her hand freezes before making contact with you, hesitation making her hover. She backs away enough to look at the side of your neck, scanning the tempting flesh and murmuring. “Where can I do it?”

You’re pulled out of your haze as your eyes refocus. “Huh?”

“Where–where is it safer to do?”

“Oh um…” you trail off and lightly place your hand at the back of her head, the blonde locs soft to the touch while you push down with a minimal force down towards the spot between the base of your neck and collarbone. With your other hand, you tug the collar of your scrubs down to expose enough of it. “Here.”

By only a centimeter away, Grace parts her lips without much resistance, the sharp ends of her fangs presenting themselves as she’s triggered by your sweeter scent. Again, her breath shakily comes out through her quivered lips, warming up the designated area before closing the distance.

Then you feel it. That agonizing pain that causes you to wince through your clenched teeth. It’s not deep, but it keeps you from relaxing as you feel a pressure caving in around your middle.

Grace holds you firmly, pressing down to keep you from squirming. Your blood is warm—fresh. Not anything like the stale drips she’s just had.

You thought you were hearing yourself for a moment when there’s a small whimper, but as you release the pent up air in your lungs, you hear another just below your ear. Grace deepens the wound, her saliva pooling alongside the blood shedding. She lets her teeth out slowly, following with a soothing touch, her tongue sliding across the fruitful taste. And all while she pulls away with a string of spit, you watch her move onto the other side of your neck.

You freeze up by it, letting her steer whilst you remain dizzily put. But just as the possibility of Grace losing it to her impending cravings grazes your worry, you’re instead caught off guard by a warming peck.

“G-Grace,” you stutter, lifting your jaw upward to give her more access while jitters spread from down up.

Kisses pepper the clean slate of your skin, each one further pushing you into a clouded headspace. You’re not sure whether it’s the loss of blood or her that’s making your head spin, but it gets worse as she mumbles into you.

“Y-You make it so hard for me…” Her hand slithers up from your waist, making contact with your chest. She's never felt this buzzing in her before. For once, it actually feels like her face is being lit, like it’s colored in a matching red as to you. Like she’s drunk off of you.

Grace latches onto your skin again, light enough for her fangs to barely sink in as she hopelessly gropes at one of your breasts, letting a frequency of a soft moan reach her own ears from you. In return, she sucks a little more forcefully, licking in between each pop of her mouth parting.

“What are you doing?” you pant lightly, still lightheaded as you peer down.

Leaving you unanswered with a subtle “Shh,” her hand at your hip pushes gently, a search for momentum. “You’re so tense,” she whispers through her own heavy breaths. “Let me make it feel better.”

You feel Grace move you to raise up enough for her to maneuver her thigh in between both your own, finding a better position for when you’re pulled back down—now with a pressure at your center. She resumes the former gestures at your hip, helping you move against her as you mindlessly follow with another feeble whimper at an unexpected scraping at your neck from her teeth. Just before she sinks back in.

She delves deeper into you, hands and mouth. Everything about the way you compliantly let her handle you turns her on now that her senses are back from the sufficient amount of blood she’s taken.

As more and more is sucked out of you, Grace is able to easily have you wrapped around her finger, your body so accessible and moving whilst she barely has to urge you. You continue to moan into the heated car, puffs of air being captured by the window to surely show outside of it. The pressure below becomes fuller as Grace lifts her thigh enough to meet you, which you react with a gasp. It makes the friction further applied, your clit mostly being stimulated as your clothes block between the bareness of you two.

You shouldn’t want this—it’s practically a violation. Never in a million would you think you’d find yourself in a position like this with a prior patient. Yet, when Grace pulls away again to leave another deep carving just to eagerly grasp your cheek and pull you down into a hasty kiss, it feels all too right.

There’s a metallic taste seeping into your mouth, but it leaves as quick as it came. Both of your tongues push against each other under absentminded influence. She continues to rock you, making you moan into her mouth whilst she does the same at the feeling of you clinging onto her shoulders tight enough to break skin with your nails. You’ll leave dents in her like she did with you. Fair enough.

Except, she’s close to repaying by making you come undone on her. The arousal allows your blood circulation to flow easier, increasing the oxytocin and dopamine that makes you less completely in debt to the blood loss. She knows that.

With a tightening at your lower tummy, you fall into her, wildly grinding against her with a vigor you don’t recognize. Your thighs noticeably tighten around her, your pussy throbbing.

“Fuck, I feel like I’m gonna—“

Grace cuts you off by shoving her tongue back past your lips, only to breathlessly murmur at each pull away. “Do it—cum for me. I wanna make you cum, please.”

At her desperate plea, you hump her thigh messily, each sporadic movement making you come undone as you finally reach a high that makes the tension fall loose. Your legs tremble around her while you take a fistful of her shirt. She keeps you against her, halting you to a stop once your orgasm fully rides out alongside the moans that fade away. Her lips are at your neck again, chastely licking up the painted mess that was left.

Still panting, you weakly push yourself up from her, looking down to meet her drunken gaze in a hazy blur.

“Are you okay?” Her voice plays a gentle thrumming.

“Y-Yeah…”

She brings her hand to the side of your face, feeling the heat radiating through the layered sweat that your hair sticks to. “Sorry if I took too much. You should um—rest for a little before we go.”

You nod as best as you could with an ache still tender. “Mhm, just give me a minute,” a sigh huffs.

“Take your time. I’m here if you need me,” she softly says, tucking a tangled strand behind your ear. There’s a short spell until she continues to mutter. “Thank you again...”

You respond with a gentle hum, fighting the urge to close your eyes when the rest of your limbs feel numb. But when you finally see a rosey hue in her cheeks, it sends a giddy surge that suddenly makes you realize. Maybe staying by Grace’s side was your choice based on how you feel about her rather than merely morals. Either way, you’ll expect to be in the same state as now days later if you could nurse her back to normal. That’s what you’re willing to do.

——————

This is my first time writing something like this so I hope you enjoyed it if you finished reading<33