manuel balza otero

a voice from above caught the crimson beauty off guard, crystalline eyes gazing up only to find an unfamiliar face. a mop of curly hair was the only sight to be seen— that, and the god-like face directly below the mop. 

“ well, that’s kind of an up-front question. but, nothing. why ? “ one burgundy brow quirked at question, arms crossing just a bit. 

“i’m an upfront guy,” manny replied smoothly. he nodded over his shoulder and started to hop over the fence to the other side. “come over here. i mean, unless you want to be bored today.”

“hey, down there,” manny called from the top of the fence he was perched on. he had his satchel over his back, full of contraband as one does, and he was looking for his usual buyers.

flashes of their first deal come to light, a cold touch to the memory as they look picture-perfect today. not a day has aged them, never again until their last breath. their deaths were destined to be tragedy, just by the species they fell into, so they were forced to live every day to it’s fullest. 

nevermind his answer, xander was already moving towards the liquor cabinet, grabbing the supplies for their usual late night benders. he paid no mind to the leather bound book within his friend’s hands. he knew where their lined lied, and that was one he’d rather not cross. sentiment was often scarce in their lives.

“ forget i asked, then. figured your gal would be here by now. “  he gripped the bottles, adding a few cubes of ice to each glass. pouring manny’s scotch, he passed the drink. 

manny’s life had grown significantly brighter since he’d turned xander and taken him under his wing. it hadn’t exactly been what he planned, but... he wasn’t going to let him suffer if he didn’t have to. and it had all worked out for the best.

all other things about their relationship inconsidered, xander knew what he liked to drink. that meant a lot to manny. and he never pried. 

“not tonight,” he said with half a smile. when they were together, he and clem, there was nothing else on his mind. when they were apart, he rarely thought about her. or he liked to tell himself he did. he liked to think he had no attachments, just himself and xander and their corruptive force against the world. “what about your boy?”

clem can’t help but melt back into his touch. she’ll never confirm as much –– but over the years, manny’s become… a comfort. she shakes the thought off with a clipped chuckle. “ ‘dunno, he might give you a run for your money. ”  

they both know there’s no competition. unless manny’s significantly wilted over these past few months, clem’s sure. he’s got looks that put mount olympus to shame, last she checked.

his thought tips her lips into a sleep-slowed smirk. “ oh ? ”  now that they’re facin’ one another, clem shifts closer, fingertips walkin’ up his wrist, forearm, bicep, ‘til they rest teasingly on his shoulder. she only opens her eyes when she leans her nose to hover just above his neck. 

safe. this time.

“ you gonna do somethin’ about it ? ”

“i doubt it,” he said confidently. “there’s a reason you’re in my bed and not his, eh?” he liked it when she could relax with him. joke a little, lean into him. he wasn’t an idiot, he could feel it when she felt comfortable enough to let him close.

she walks her fingers up his arm and he settles his hand low on her waist, grinning like a fool. he is a damn fool when it comes to clem.

he laughed and tugged her close, pressing his lips to hers. “have you ever known me to sit back and let someone else do all the work?” he murmurs against her skin.

@ncvastar​

manny sauntered into letum skate with a devious smile the size of oklahoma and an outfit that’d make many women swoon. torn-up jeans, leather jacket, stubble on his cheeks. he seemed dangerous and scandalous and that was just how he liked it. why not scare the little children?

she feels the sheets give as manny’s hand draws near, and fights every impulse to slide hers over to meet it. the pre-dawn air’s cool to the touch; if she focuses, clem can still envision blue-black light and the way she used to watch it dance across his jaw, illuminate his cheekbones.

sometimes, she mourns it. the light.

“ yep. you’re a postmodern dracula, aren’t ya. ”  her usual bite sits this one out as her dips lower against her knees. closes her eyes. she preferred nights, too, before waking up to a world where the lines between day and dark smeared blacks ‘n blues until not even the most trained painter could tell the difference. she preferred nights, when preferrin’ them was still a choice.

manny’s gaze trains on her –– clem can feel it. she wants to ask him what he still sees in her. she wants to ask him why he’s still here.

“ what’re you thinking ? ”  the gorgon asks instead, tuckin’ blonde locks behind one ear. she lifts her head, turns to face manny. eyes still closed. careful.

she doesn’t move but manny keeps reaching for her anyway, sliding his hand up to scratch her back lightly. the grin hooks on his teeth and a dry chuckle escapes. “much better looking than dracula, i think,” he boasted playfully.

he stared at the back of her head, sandy hair, silky and soft. he can feel her breathing. and then she turns toward him, eyes closed.

“i’m thinking... that you look just as sexy as you did last night.”

–– @manpyre​ !

it’s the stupidest fear. but clem always makes sure her head’s turned away from manny ‘fore she opens her eyes. just in case. it’s well before sunrise when she stirs –– sleep’s always been a bit shuffled since she lost her sight. and lately she’s been gettin’ those night terrors again. dreamin’ with sight. seein’ his face go gray.

she jolts into a seated position, eyes still screwed shut until she can feel the bedspread, feel the edge of the mattress behind her knees. only then does she open her eyes and let out a tiny sigh.

but then she hears it –– the hitch in manny’s breath. no point in askin’. she knows she woke him. lean legs lift ‘til she can hug ‘em to her chest and rest her chin on her knees. still facin’ away. still safe from disaster. 

“ not mornin’ yet, ”  she mumbles, as if he can’t see it for himself. there’s a twinge of guilt in her gut, for rousin’ him. usually, she’s able to shake these things off on her own, undetected. have a smoke outside, quiet her mind. long nails press crescents into bare shins. the silence feels too… intimate.

“ sorry t’dissapoint. ”  it’s as close to an i’m sorry she’s gonna get. and then the quiet resumes, and clem can’t think of anythin’ casual enough to fill the space.

manny knows clem worries—behind that stunning cold glare—she has a lot going on. between the fair recently and all the shit that went on before that... he’s heard about it. not from her, of course. he has his sources.

he feels the bed move as she wakes, shifts. he just lays there, but his left arm reaches out for her, palm up. “don’t get up then,” he murmured, voice raspy from sleep. he didn’t need it, really. but he liked it when they woke up next to each other.

“oh, please,” he murmured, finally opening his eyes. he props himself up on his elbow, watching her. “you know i prefer nights.”

@manpyre​

“ finished the last pick up. looks a bit small, but i had it weighed. “ a husk lied within the professional tone. then again, xander wasn’t much for warm and fuzzy  ( yet a curly haired fool might argue differently ) . one toss and the product landed flat on the couch, a low thump echoing within the silence. “ callin’ it a night or ready for a drink ? “

manny ran a hand through his curls as he looked up from the old leatherbound book, his mother’s script in his hands. chipped black nail polish. every inch of him the same since he was in his twenties. what a sad life he would’ve lived had whatever cretin not saved him.

like he saved xander. what a strange name, he’d thought at first. but things changed with the years. almost like coming to america for the first time. but his body and xander remained the same. never gave up on him.

he grinned, laid his mother’s diary on the table and kicked his legs to stand. “what do you think the answer is, my friend? always ready for a drink.”

( tommy martinez, new age vamp, he/him & male ) is that ( highway to hell ) by ( ac/dc ) playing? ( manuel balza otero ) must be nearby!  heard folks say the ( eighty-five ) year old ( drug dealer ) was at the thanksgiving fair, ( corrupting the local teens ) when chaos ensued. during the glitch, ( he saved his blind fuck buddy from a few glitchy supernaturals ).