#sunaddicted

17. things you said that i wish you hadn’t 

a/n: takes place the night before 2x10

...

Nandor is blood-drunk and happy. 

Come the next night, he would probably wake up late and cranky, plagued with the closest thing to a hangover that an undead creature could experience. It was why Guillermo knew it would be his best chance at leaving the house unseen. Confrontation wasn’t his strong suit and, realistically, he didn’t trust himself around the vampires, not when every waking moment was spent subconsciously cataloguing all the ways he could kill them. 

Currently, there were thirty different objects in the room that Guillermo could use to kill the blood-drunk vampire sprawled in the fur-lined coffin. He tried to push the thought away to no avail. 

“Good night, Guillermo. I love you,” Nandor says, settling further into the coffin, one hand splayed on the inside of the lid as he gazes at Guillermo with unabashed warmth. 

Guillermo feels something in his heart lurch at the unguarded look of affection. 

“Well? Aren’t you going to say it back?” Nandor near whines, still holding up the lid to his coffin with a pout. 

Guillermo’s lips curl into a soft smile despite himself. “...I love you too, Nandor.” 

The vampire immediately relaxes at his words, a pleased sigh drifting from his lips. He lets the coffin lid fall, leaving Guillermo to tidy up the crypt. 

This doesn’t change anything, Guillermo thinks, spending an extra few minutes dusting the antique table laden with bits and bobbles from Nandor’s storied past. He didn’t know how long it would take for the vampire to get a new familiar so he wanted to leave Nandor with as clean of a crypt as he could manage before he left for good. It was the least he could do after eleven years together, he thought, blinking away tears. 

When Guillermo is ready to leave, the soft light of dawn rolling over the horizon, he deliberates on what he should write on the blank piece of paper in his hands. He could spend hours staring at it, at what he thinks will be his final correspondence to the vampires in the Staten Island house. 

I wish you hadn’t said you loved me 

I’ve loved you for eleven years

I don’t think I know how to stop loving you 

I love you 

I’m dangerous 

I’m sorry 

I’m...

SORRY 

Guillermo finally settles on a hastily scribed ‘SORRY,’ still fighting back tears as he leaves the note folded on top of the mini-fridge. His final act of penance is to carefully lay the glitter portrait Nandor had made of them in the corner of the crypt. At least then the vampire would have something to remember him by in a weird, roundabout way. There were no pictures in the house of Guillermo save for the handful of photographs that once rested on his bedside table. They were now tucked into his duffel bag, photos from his childhood as a vampire aficionado, photos that he was sure his mother would love to have. Nandor could have the portrait, the reminder of what they both wanted but could never have. 

I can see you know good quality 😉 but really, thank you very much, love 💞 you have been too kind to me over time xx

Things you didn’t say at all.

It’s a bit late. Very late, in fact. As per usual. But that’s normal in a story like their own. One that consists of missed chances, and regret, and remorse, and a hundred more feelings that cut deep, that are meant to hurt. 

Jim’s heart is beating in his chest. Well, the rest of it. All those sharp bits and pieces, those shrapnels that used to be a human heart, are out of sync now, have been for the longest time. 

He’s leaning against the wall, barely aware of the blood trickling down his chest. It barely hurts, now. 

It’s funny, he thinks, how he always ends up like this when everything falls apart. In the end, it’s always him and Oswald. Murderer, mobster, psychopath, best friend. 

Friend is the wrong word, though. 

Last resort? Maybe? Last chance? Definitely.

If Jim was anyone else than the man he is, he’d probably make his peace. But he is who he is and this is Gotham and the dead don’t stay dead, come back, inevitably. They are just a bit more broken, a bit more damaged every time they do.  

He’s clutching at his nemesis’ lapels, holding him a bit too close, practically sharing his breath. It’s soothing, he thinks, that they actually always do, as long as they share Gotham’s air. 

Maybe it’s time again, to push him away. To call for help later. In a year. In a month. In a week. 

Maybe it’s time to pull him closer, to never let go. 

His fingers are itching to do just that, to give in. 

But then there are borders you can’t cross and hope to return. 

So Jim bites his tongue. Hard. What is a little more blood anyway? 

But then Oswald lets go and Jim is bereft of all that heat the other body emanates and of all the thoughts swimming through his head. 

Maybe Gotham will grant him this mercy one day, and take that one part from him that keeps holding him back. 

I am wiped and pumped at the same time lol thank you to the @mi6-cafe mods for giving us this amazing experience; every year you out do yourselves to give us one of the best fandom celebrations out there and I will never have the words to tell you just how important this event is for me - thank you.

Also, thank you to the glorious @teamofvillains for rocking hard and spreading the love for villainy ♡

Fanfictions:

007 Games Fics 2020

Angst Prompt Table 2020

Clarity ch 1 & 2

Blueberry Pancakes

The Weight of Responsibility

Flesh Like Silk

Bang Bang

James' Italian Ricotta Tarts (drabble + recipe)

Her Throne

007 Meet 007

Calming Influence

Echoes of Absence

At First Sight

Spilled Anger

Oh, Mr Silva

Suckers

Sea Monsters

Trace Decay

Pollen

Burnt Offerings

Mad Honey

Express Delivery

Me, Myself and... You

The Lighthouse ch 1, 2, 3 & 4

One

The Perfect Gift

Power Hungry

True Love Is In The Details

Of Good And Dust

Pub Dates

Headcanons:

Holidaying with James Bond

Holidaying with Q

Holidaying with Eve Moneypenny

Holidaying with Bill Tanner

Holidaying with M

Holidaying with Alec

Holidaying with Raoul Silva

MI6 and Betting

Villainous Tunes

00s and Poker

00s and Weapons of Choice

Miscellaneous:

Round Robin Entry (Prose)

None, because she is a flawless goddess

- Tells ridiculous stories about having met and/or fought various mythical figures/creatures, and no one one can tell if she’s making it up or not (it’s about 50/50).

- Leaves her lasso lying around the Hall so that people keep sitting on it and dropping truth bombs everywhere. 

- While she has been trained to work as a team, the League isn’t like the Amazons, and she sometimes struggles to work with them, particularly when butting heads with Bruce on strategy. There are occasions where she’ll take off to do it her way, or try to deal with the problem on her own.

- She’s also not as self-sacrificial as Bruce or Clark, but she has her moments.

- Comes from a good place, but is somewhat of a busybody crossed with a mother hen, always wanting to know what’s happening and involving herself in everyone’s personal lives. 

- Is prone to fits of melancholy, where she’ll withdraw from everyone and everything.

- Is no less stubborn than any of the others, and if arguments/disagreements are escalating, she’ll go for the jugular.