Hello again, my lovely readers. I hope you all are safe and well. I'm really sorry this chapter took even longer than usual. As I mentioned in the last set of notes, I was moving these past few weeks, and now I'm (mostly) all done and finally an official resident of the city I've wanted to live in for my entire life. So, needless to say, despite being very busy it's extremely good vibes all around, so I wanted to make this a happy-ish chapter after the last few. Which, of course, means things are about to steam the fuck up. You're welcome.

Soundtrack:
Kito & Empress Of – "Wild Girl" [Paul Woolford Remix]
Dragonette – "Let It Go" from Bodyparts (first one I've reused from the show I think)
Frank Ocean – "Pyramids" from channel ORANGE
Blood Orange - "Champagne Coast" from Coastal Grooves

Reminder: for full playlist search fic title on Spotify or Apple Music

September 6, 1888

"So? Would you fancy a formal outing with the ladies?"

"You mean with the daughter of the parliament member I ate last week and her friends? No thank you."

"Come now Mary Lou, all we do is mope around the house all day and then hunt at night. Don't you ever want a change? What's the point of these rings if we never actually use them to see the sun once in a while?"

"We hunt. You go and sit at little gazebos and gardens and pubs like a lost puppy hoping someone will talk to you."

"What? I— have you been following me?"

"Are you going soft? I've never known my girlfriend to be one for bouquets and bonnets. We're vampires, Nora: the predatory species, the top of the food chain. Humans are here to sustain us, and nothing more. Do you ever listen to Julian, or is your head always floating in your fantasy land of luncheons and gift baskets and shiny silver trays and—"

"Do you actually believe that? We kill because we must, not because we should."

"And now I have my answer: you have gone soft."

"Just come with me one time and I'll show you—"

"No, I'll show you. Remind you who you really are. Here, drink."

"I'm not hungry, this morning I had—"

"A vampire is always hungry. Go ahead, Nora. Feed on him. We can always get another butler."

"But I just wanted—"

"DO IT."

January 17, 2014

"So we ended up having kind of a good first week, all things considered." Bonnie can already hear her words starting to slur even though she's only on her second drink. Her tolerance has been so unpredictable lately.

They're at a house party a vivacious girl from their shared English class named Amanda excitedly invited them to earlier that day, which was pretty small when they first arrived but has steadily grown since then. Though it wasn't a far walk from campus, the place has the look of someone's well-off parents' house—three stories, basement, non-sketchy attic. Loud music from the speaker system in the living-room-turned-dance-floor rocks the whole building, even in the little oasis they've set up in this discreet hallway to a hidden bathroom. Every once in a while someone walks by and they both flash their sheepish we-definitely-weren't-just-making-out smiles, but for the most part it's just them in the eye of the storm, sparingly swaying when the right songs come on, appreciating the hereness they've been blessed with. Nora's been distant since Monday night, and they haven't fucked at all, not even after the extravagantly dramatic "I love you"s, but Bonnie is trying not to let it bother her. Who knows what horrible Stone remnants she's still dealing with.

"Yes, Bonnie, to expand that, despite the fact that I was trapped in a supernatural soul-prison for a day, watched you saw your own head off, killed you myself, and then almost killed you again, it's been positively delightful." Nora's alcohol-softened expression is more tranquil and optimistic than the word's she speaking would imply, but Bonnie can see the hard flinty trauma at the center of her girlfriend's ocean eyes as she winces at the Phoenix Stone recollections that she's already heard several times but never get any easier to listen to. Nora sees her reaction and continues, "I'm sorry. You just said it was okay to talk about, so…"
"It is. It totally is." Bonnie puts a reassuring hand on the taller girl's shoulder, initially planning it as a quick gesture but instead letting her palm linger on the smooth, tantalizing bare skin. "It's just— it's not easy stuff to hear, you know? Plus, I wouldn't ever want you to feel like I don't acknowledge the gravity of what you went through in there. Hearing Damon's stories was already hard and those didn't even involve me. The thought that you experienced a reality in which you killed me is…" She trails off and pulls Nora into what's probably their two- or three-hundredth hug over the course of the past few days. "It's terrifying."

Nora melts into the embrace and slides her splayed hands down Bonnie's spine to the small of her back in the way that always weakens the witch's knees and makes her shiver. "I suppose I'm lucky that my stay was so short. Julian was in there for over a century... Damon weeks, even while we were actively searching for him... and both Val and I are out in a matter of days? Who designs a metaphysical holding cell to have variable sentences?"

"I don't know. I feel like a lot of the witches that cast these huge spells didn't really think about the consequences. Esther definitely didn't when she created vampires in the first place, or when she set a plot to exterminate the entire species after it had a thousand years to grow. Magic gets into the wrong hands a lot. Or the right hands, but the wrong motivations. Or whatever."

Nora looks down at her. They've separated a little and are now hanging onto each other in a loose, lazy sort of half-hug. There's a lull in the slightly muffled din of the party around them as the previous song, which was some remix that Bonnie didn't recognize, ends and, quite unexpectedly, is replaced by "Let It Go." Her eyes immediately light up and she grins as she remembers dancing to it with Elena and Caroline—God, more than three years ago—and the fingers of her left hand interlace with Nora's before gently tugging at them. "We have to go dance to this one," Bonnie says, raising her voice a little so she can be heard over the music, before remembering Nora could make out her words even if she whispered. "If they don't turn it off first. Seems like a mistake." She tugs harder and Nora unpeels from the wall to follow her, a bemused smirk on her face.

The "dance floor" and surrounding spaces are full of people dancing, along with conversation clusters of various sizes. Bonnie leads Nora to a free patch of hardwood floor with the heavy bass of the chorus rattling their steps, and despite her best efforts not to, the dim light provided by the smattering of cheap plastic disco balls throughout the room ensures she steps on a few feet. At least I didn't wear heels.

Bonnie turns right around, poised to get into one hell of a groove with her girlfriend, but even in the mostly-dark she can see that Nora's face is closer to panic and fear than any kind of excitement. "Nora? What's wrong?"

She opens her mouth to respond, but no sound—no audible sound, at least—comes out. What does happen, though, gets the same message across: Nora's cheeks start to swell with blood vessels and her eyes redden, and Bonnie feels her entire body go cold.

"Just breathe, okay?" Bonnie's terrified and yet she still slowly inches toward Nora, one hand raised in need of a physical and/or magical barrier between them. The brunette closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, but the veins continue to pulsate as she opens them again and looks around at what Bonnie now realizes is probably the equivalent of a four-star buffet to a hungry traumatized vampire. She's being generous with the stars. Three at most. Her brain is scrabbling to think of anything but the possibility of Nora slaughtering the entire party, but it's coming through her flimsy mental defenses in glimpses and flashes: blood in thick syrupy puddles on the ground, torn and chewed limbs strewn on furniture, Nora lunging toward her… They're halfway to the door. It'll be fine. Everything will be fine. She won't do that, she's a different person now. She cares about me, about everyone else. People upstairs cheer and the muffled sound is loud enough to be audible over the crowd immediately surrounding them. Ten more steps. Bonnie looks around to make sure no one has given a second thought to Nora's mostly concealed but still somewhat visible face. Doormat. Threshold. Porch. A few people smoking, a girl off to the side on the phone, no one in the driveway, a few cars—they slump down on the opposite side of one as Nora does her best to keep a steady rhythm of deep breaths, and then Bonnie's in her arms and they've zipped over to a wooden bench across the street and a few houses down from Amanda's, and it's freezing cold even with layers underneath the thick sweater that she was regretting keeping on inside just ten minutes ago, but when Nora asks "Do you need your coat?" she finds the answer to be no, because the frigid air is strangely soothing on her bundled, overheated skin, and once she takes a knit beanie and mittens from her bag she's fine.

Instead, she counters the question with another question: "What happened in there, Nora?" She already knows the answer. Sort of. But the heretic looks miserable and it's tearing Bonnie apart and she needs her to say something. Anything.

After what seems like an eternity, she does. "I don't know." She puts her face in her hands. "I had two blood bags before we walked over because I was so hungry then. I feel like I'm losing control of myself."

Bonnie aches for her. "I'm sorry. But you made it out of there, right? That was some amazing self control."

"But what if it gets worse? What if next time I let my guard down and try to have fun, I can't stop myself?"

"If it comes to that, I will stop you," Bonnie says lightheartedly. "And it will be regrettable. Mostly."

Nora doesn't lift her head but Bonnie can see her smile.

"Can I ask you something?" the witch continues.

"I think we're past asking permission at this point," Nora replies, her accent still lilting and perfect and adorable even when muffled by her palms.

Normally Bonnie would launch into her defense of the pre-question, because it does serve the often important purpose of giving someone a head's up that they're about to be asked something more serious, but she doesn't, because this question is burning to be spit out like a pizza roll right out of the oven. And so she blurts it out, but somehow slowly still, and her words sound bizarre even to her: "Why am I not a temptation for you?"

This time Nora looks up from her hands, her beautiful eyes rimmed with angry red and dotted with wet tears along the lashes. "What?"

"You wanted to feed on those people in there. And Caroline, Stefan, and Elena have all told me that being in love with someone makes the urges even stronger. But aside from the other night, you've never even come close to feeding on me. Not that I'm complaining"—she quickly clarifies in response to Nora's confused expression—"but I don't know how to feel about it."

She feels stupid and petty now that she's actually said it, and she brings her knees up to her chin and wraps her sweater-swathed arms around her legs like an ashamed child in timeout. But soon she feels Nora's fingers softly cup the side of her face, and when she turns to face her Nora is smiling. A sad smile, but a smile. And Bonnie immediately feels better.

"I don't think most vampires who try to be good talk about it, but the hunger is more than just that. It's also an invasive desire to kill that always lurks in the subconscious and takes a stronger hold over time if you don't learn to control it. When I'm hungry, I want to kill someone. And I have never, ever wanted to kill you. So I don't think it will be an issue."

"How often do you want to kill people? Or think about it at least?" Bonnie isn't sure she wants to know the answer.

"It's gotten so much better since I met you. But it's still difficult. It hits me hard around one or two times a day. I've found that there are a few human afflictions with similar symptoms, and I've done some exercises that have helped."

"That's great, Nora." Bonnie gently kisses her forehead before bringing their faces close together. "Are you hungry now?"

"Ravenous. But I'm such a sod, I didn't bring any blood bags. I really thought those two would be enough." Nora stares back at Bonnie apologetically. "I don't want to make you leave because I messed up."

"Okay, one, that's nonsense, I'd leave anywhere anytime if you needed anything," Bonnie replies, "and two…"—she hesitates for a second—"you can drink from me. If you want."

Nora looks taken aback. "Bonnie, I couldn't ask you to—"

"You aren't. I'm offering." Bonnie rolls down her right sleeve and pushes the layers of undershirts with it. She's a bit scared but mostly excited, an electricity humming in her whole body.

"What if I can't stop?"

"Like I said, I'll take you down. Regrettably."

Nora laughs even though the timid apprehension hasn't left her face. "You're being surprisingly cavalier about this."

"It's almost like I'm totally okay with it. I did it for my mom once." Not 100% true; she'd offered, but Abby did not accept. But still. "You'll be fine. I'll be fine. And it'll be hot, right?"

"You're a skilled rhetorician, Bonnie Bennett." Her large green eyes dart to the exposed skin of Bonnie's wrist. "You're sure?"

"Positive. Just, you know, don't go all ripper on me. I'm kind of partial to this hand."

Just as she was starting to lower her head, Nora hears the comment and shoots her a worried look. Bonnie rolls her eyes and giggles. "Kidding. I have faith. Plenty, in fact. But do be gentle."

Nora hasn't looked away. "Always," she says, and then Bonnie closes her eyes and feels a sharp stab of pain and then a dull, tugging ache, like a stronger version of the feeling of getting blood drawn. But after the initial shock, it's not unpleasant, and even sort of warm, especially when she looks at Nora again, her face fully transformed as she slowly sucks at Bonnie's wrist, her arm now held up by both of the heretic's slim hands, and the sprawling physical and vibrational bond between them, composed of Bonnie's legs draped over Nora's and Bonnie's left arm around Nora's neck and both of their torsos sharing heat, makes the flowing blood the one life force the two of them share, eternally cycling through and between them via varying planes and pathways. And then it's a different kind of heat as the fangs retract and the crimson irises turn, and the dry, frosty air surrounding their bodies could ignite and combust from the crackling charges in the space between their faces, and any thought Bonnie might have of being put off by her own blood is made molten by the sight of Nora with trails of red dripping down her chin, plump lips parted in a seductive haze, and they both grin giddily at each other, and then Nora is straddling Bonnie and kissing her like she's never kissed her before, like no one has ever kissed her before, and every inch of their bodies that can possibly be touching are as they rock and grind together as one, the reality that it's below freezing nearly forgotten as hands toy with hems and tease inside waistbands, and when Nora finally pulls away Bonnie is little more than putty in her hands.

"Wow," the witch breathes, the heat from both of their panting exhales steaming in the air.

Nora smiles mischievously, and then, with a flourish as she wipes the blood from her face, says, "Let's go dance."

There could be anywhere between three and thirty other people around them and it wouldn't really matter, because Bonnie and Nora are entirely in their own world as they both dance and writhe against each other, twirling and gyrating and rocking together depending on the song, always connected by the magnetism of their electric contact, whether Bonnie's ass and back are pressed flush against Nora's front with Nora's hands dangerously teasing across Bonnie's chest and stomach and thighs, or vice versa, or they're swinging their hips back and forth to a heavy rhythm as they face each other with arms around waists and foreheads together, or they're wrapped up tight and swaying when anything less than 100 bpm plays. They don't talk much, other than the occasional sweet and/or dirty nothing whispered breathlessly into an ear, but Nora's body—which looks utterly spectacular in her usual fashionable getup of a frilled white long-sleeve top, just short enough to show a strip of skin at belly-button height, and a dark blue skirt cinched at her waistline, her long legs tantalizingly disappearing into it from their black Doc anchors—is saying everything Bonnie needs to hear, and her brain and every nerve under its influence are running hot and haywire as the heat radiating from her core continues to build, threatening to burst with every sensuous movement of her girlfriend's toned midsection and calves and—well, pretty much everything else.

Bonnie's so caught up in the glorious lust of it all that she barely even registers her mouth forming the words that her body has been inaudibly humming this whole time. "I want you," she murmurs as her lips brush against Nora's flushed left cheek, the syllables floating between her lips and down her chin and onto Nora's shoulder like sweet heavy smoke, "so bad."

"I'm going to make you feel so good," the tall brunette replies, the last few words melting away as she drops her lips to Bonnie's glistening neck and grazes it in soft passes, each one sending a new shock through the witch's already surging nerves, and the thought of being worried about a stray fang doesn't even surface, and doesn't need to. "Do you want to…?" Nora nods her head in the direction of the door, the actual sight of it blocked by a crowd of partygoers collectively losing it to "Toxic," but Bonnie bites her bottom lip and shakes her head, a little smirk forming as her eyes look upward toward the ceiling, indicating the floors above.

Nora's mouth is agape, but there's a smile buried in it—not offended, but scandalized, with a small but quickly expanding dose of ...but what if?

"Seriously? That's something people do?"

"Sometimes," Bonnie answers slyly, not knowing where this sex-goddess confidence is coming from but not really caring either. "There's probably like a million extra rooms in this ridiculous house. And we can spell the door shut." As she talks she inches even closer to Nora, slipping one leg in between hers and lightly rubbing her upper thigh against the spot that makes the taller girl's eyelids flutter close and her head tilt back, sweeping her mane of slightly damp but still majestic chestnut hair with it, and instead of answering or even nodding Nora immediately takes Bonnie's hand and starts to lead her up the stairs.

On the second floor they pass another living-type room with a tightly-packed group of people staring intently at a game of Smash on a CRT screen and then someone's heavily postered bedroom occupied by a loose circle of bloodshot-eyed stoners circulating two—no, three blunts, the amount of thick white smoke billowing from the doorway almost comical. But even in the haze of dopamine and pheromones swirling in her brain, Bonnie still stops Nora's swift pace with a light squeeze and accepts the offered toke from a short girl in ripped fishnets and a green flannel with matching-color hair sitting near the door. She looks at the two of them, their skin sweat-sheened and their hands still clasped together, and gives them a conspiratorial smile complete with brow raises. Nora blushes furiously as Bonnie laughs and hands her the blunt before flashing the "OK" sign and winking at the girl, who chuckles. "I'm Meerna," she says, nodding at the guy sitting next to her as he passes her another smoldering cigarillo, this one much less skillfully rolled. Meerna looks at it with disgust but hits it anyway. "This is my house, and my brother's. Well, it's really our old lady's and her gold-digger boyfriend's. God bless fuck-you money and the long winter vacations it pays for." She finally exhales. "God, I am the worst, aren't I. Welcome to hell. So you two tryna find a place to, you know?"

Nora seems to blush even harder. Bonnie can feel her own cheeks redden as well as she smiles sheepishly and looks at her shoes, the few puffs she took already coming on strong. Meerna throws her head back and laughs. "Hey, it's cool, really. You're not the only ones. And y'all are like, hot, and you came to my party. The least I can do is get you high and be a good host, right?"

Neither of the girls say anything. The flush of embarrassment spreads to Bonnie's neck as she clears her throat.

Meerna laughs again and coughs. The guy who handed her the sloppy blunt and another girl slumped on the other side of the doorway both chuckle.

"We all have to hear about how horny you are, Meerna. They don't." They give her light punches on the arm.

"You guys, I'm sorry, I'm being a creep. We're usually… well, we're pretty, you know, open about this stuff around here. So my bad if I seem a little intense. If you're interested, there's plenty of guest rooms on the top floor. If a door is closed, best not to mess with it. No pressure either way. Whatever you get up to, have fun, and I'll see you later. Or not. Eh?"

From the speed at which Nora drags Bonnie away again, she figures she's just as mortified and the mood's ruined, but the next thing she knows they're upstairs in a dimly lit hallway with carpet that feels illegally soft, and then in a sparsely furnished room mostly occupied by a neatly made king-sized bed. With the combination of vamp zipping and normal walking Bonnie's pretty disoriented, and she's for some reason she's left facing a wall with a small set of wooden drawers near the corner and a colorful geometric pattern occupying most of the otherwise drab drywall. "Well that was awkward," she says as she starts to turn around. "She's a lot, but seems nice I guess? I—"

She stops talking as she hears the lock on the door click and sees Nora right in front of her, and any further speaking is silenced as she drags a long, graceful finger down Bonnie's lips, her other hand playing with the bottom of her sweater, and then they're kissing, even harder and messier than on the bench. Urgent caresses and pulls and grasps and unclasps overlap and harmonize and then Bonnie's back is against the wall with her top two layers off and the third on its way, one side of the shirt up over her arm and shoulder as the same arm furiously works at the simple hook on the waistband of Nora's skirt, undoing it just in time for Nora to flip her around so that now her hands and chest meet the painted swathes of blue and green. It's cool against Bonnie's burning skin that only further heats up as she feels Nora's hands slide down her sides and pull her already unbuttoned jeans down and off, and then her knees start to turn to jelly as soft kisses climb back up the insides of her legs. They tremble even more when Nora's mouth starts to close around the elastic of Bonnie's underwear and she starts to lose her balance, says "Nora" quietly in both pleasure and alarm, and then she gets flipped back around with her now bare bottom half supported by Nora's hands, gripping her ass enough to make her pulse with anticipation but somehow not letting the weight make it uncomfortable, and all Bonnie is thinking about is how strong and gentle her girlfriend is and how good her lips feel on the salty slick skin of her abs and her hips and her now-soaked inner thighs and then they lock lust-hooded eyes for one last time before her panties drop from teeth to floor and Nora's tongue finally stops teasing around the spot where it's meant to be and now it's just stars.

January 18, 2014

"What the hell is going on? Who woke me up? Show yourself, before I—"

"Please do not make me regret this more than I already do."

"...Nora?"

"Unfortunately."

Mary Louise, skin still ashen-grey from weeks of desiccation, slinks out of the shadows toward the metal bars with as much ersatz grace as she can muster. She smiles. "Miss me already?"