*Furious keyboard noises*

“Can you…” the hero hesitates, but eventually brings themselves to continue, “Can you promise me something?”

“Anything, my love,” the villain purrs, voice smooth and mellow and reassuring.

The hero gulps. More hesitating.

“Can you promise not to hurt more people?”

The words come out in a rush, but even to their own ears, they sounded delicate. Wavering. Pathetically hopeful.

They feel the villain’s arms tense around them, feel their whole body freeze. It’s only for a moment, but it feels a lot longer.

“My love…” the villain speaks, but their voice trails off, their sentence going unfinished.

They only got out two words, but they may as well have spoken for hours. Gone was the confident purr, the assurance dripping from their voice that everything was alright, that the Hero could ask anything of them, that they would do anything for them.

Having a partner who is also a vampire is a… unique experience, to say the least.

Now don’t get me wrong — I love ‘em to the moon and back. I’m forever thankful they came into my life and decided to stay. Just imagining going about my days without them beside me is something I rarely entertain. But, just like with any relationship, there are gonna be some… things you gotta get used to.

One of said things sometimes occurs when we’re sleeping. Now, contrary to popular belief, vampires do not sleep in coffins. I know, shocker. It’s a commonly held stereotype about them based on the aesthetics of old generation vampires. Well, my partner did have this goth phase, but that’s their story to tell.

Anyway, as such, they usually sleep in a bed. Specifically, our bed. They used to have their own room with their own bed, back when we first moved in together, but you can imagine why that quickly changed.

Now, I love sleeping next to my partner. One of my favorite things to experience is waking up next to them in the morning. If I could live through one moment from our time together for the rest of my life, I think I’d choose that. The thing is, my partner likes to move in their sleep. Sometimes, it’s your average stuff, like flipping over, spreading their arms and legs, that kind of stuff. And sometimes…

Well, take the first time, for example. We went to bed, as normal, no problems. However, I wake up at some point — it’s still dark — to this prickly sensation on my left arm. I’m groggy, since I just woke up, so it takes me a bit to fully realize where I am and what’s going on. I look down at my partner and, uhhh…

Yeah, they’re, uh, they’re nibbling on my arm. They’re still clearly asleep, eyes closed and all that, but I guess they’re either hungry or eating in their dream, ‘cause they are just nomming down on it. Not enough to break the skin, thankfully. And I’ve gotta admit, they look so cute — holding my arm in their hands, their face almost pressed into my skin, making these slow mumbly sounds. However, the feel of their fangs poking my skin is not the most pleasant sensation. And I kinda want to go back to bed and all, so that ultimately means waking them up.

“Honey?” I asked, gently patting their head to try and rouse them from their slumber, “Sweetie? Love of my life? My cutie pato—”

I think my partner has a sixth sense for overly mushy pet names, even when they’re asleep. The mumbles turn to grumbles, and eventually their eyes flutter open to look at me.

“What?” they asked, irritated. Well, I’m 95% sure that’s what they said, since their mouth is still full. They seem to realize the situation too, and quickly unlatch themselves from my flesh.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” They whisper-shout, covering their eyes with their hands. It’s something they do when they’re embarrassed, like they can’t bear to look at the source of their embarrassment. It’s the cutest thing ever.

“You’re fine, you’re fine,” I assure them, gently prying their hands from their face to hold them in my own. “Let’s just go back to sleep, okay?”

They pout at me, worry swimming in their eyes. “What if I bite you again?”

I think about it, then begin shifting down, bringing them with me, until we’re lying face to face. I caress their hair, guiding their head until it’s resting on my chest.

“Well, there’s no threat of nomming this way, right?” I ask, raising my eyebrow and grinning down at them, even though they can’t see.

My partner makes an unsure sound, but eventually relaxes into me, breathing deeply. I knew they couldn’t resist the sound of my heartbeat; it always works to calm them down.

We fall asleep like that, and don’t experience any more problems for the rest of the night.

And yeah, that’s how I usually work things out whenever my partner gets a little toothy at night. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it’s an easy fix. And it’s something I’m willing to go through, deal with every time, because I love them.

Loving another person isn’t always easy. I know there’s gonna be ups and downs in our relationship — it’s normal, and hell if we don’t have our fair share. Sometimes the issues can be solved quickly and neatly, like with my partner’s sleep-nomming. Other issues… well, they aren’t so easy to fix, and it can take awhile for things to truly settle down. I know all that, and I knew it when I accepted I was in love with my partner and wanted to be with them for the rest of my life.

But I guess that’s the magical thing about love, huh? You’re willing to go through anything, do anything — even if it’s hell, even if it would normally be impossible, even if it could hurt or straight up kill you. All so that you can sleep next to them. Wake up next to them. Hold their hands when they try to hide. Wake them up when they’re going to town on your arm in their sleep.