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bookworm-with-coffee · 2 years ago

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Dancing With Death ~ Pt. 2. . .

(John Mitchell x Reader)

(A/N); Hello and welcome back to Dancing With Death! I present to you the second instalment! Please note, it's my first time writing proper smut, so I'm really sorry if it sucks!! Otherwise, enjoy!! ❤❤

Plot; When a human is invited to live with the gang, things get rather complicated for one John Mitchell...

Pairings; John Mitchell x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; mature themes, violence, blood, coarse language, angst, smut (18+)

Part One

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Fate is rarely kind to those who tempt it. There is always a price to pay in the end.

The days drifted onwards, neither you or Mitchell caring to mention the almost-kiss you'd shared. Despite this, it was all you could think about. The way his gaze was so loving, his laugh, his confession in that hushed Irish accent. It gave you blissful goosebumps. But, those lips. So close, yet so far. You'd often imagined the feeling of him kissing you, the closest thing being that accidental brush. Tingles lingered where his lips had touched. It was so light and–

"(Y/n) (L/n), are you paying attention??", your teacher's voice rang out, shocking you from your thoughts.

"Pardon?", you sputtered. Your classmates giggled amongst themselves.

"Keep your attention in the here and now, Miss (L/n)", he reprimanded, before drawing his attention to the screen at the front of the room. It was going to be a very long morning for not just yourself.

Mitchell was working until noon at the hospital, bustling around in a hurry. Almost everywhere there was a spillage of some kind. It was unending for the poor vampire. And it was about to get worse.

A familiar head of blonde hair was weaving its way through the crowds, an exasperated sigh leaving the Irishman. "Ah, Mitchell", the older male greeted his acquaintance.

"Herrick", Mitchell returned, leaning on his mop.

"Don't look so unimpressed. I'll be needing word, if you don't mind?". With reluctance, Mitchell decided he'd entertain Herrick for a few moments, nodding silently. To anyone watching, Mitchell was a cleaner being questioned by a Police Officer. The head of the local department to be exact. Nothing out of the question there.

Their usual place to chat was the hospital canteen, Herrick ordering a coffee rather than the crappy hot chocolate that was made for him the last time. "What do you want? I work for a living", Mitchell ground out, staring the older man down from across their chosen table. Herrick was unintimidated by his counterpart, sipping his coffee without much care.

"I'm rather disappointed that you've forgotten", Herrick sighed. "Seth certainly hasn't".

"Seth is an arsehole", Mitchell shot back with a shrug.

"That's hardly news to the world, Mitchell. I'm talking about a very alarming incident. You know which one I'm referring to". The raven haired male narrowed his eyes for a moment before responding,

"What of it?".

"Your playing human, restricting your food habits is fine with me. But, taking it upon yourself to restrict others of our kind? That's just selfish", the blonde chided. "To make things worse, she now knows our secret".

"It's under control". Herrick's brows rose in intrigue.

"You must really trust this woman to be so sure of yourself", he mused. "Who is she to you, Mitchell? A colleague? A lover??". His eyes lit up with his next suggestion. "Your flatmate??".

"It's not your concern", Mitchell responded, irking Herrick into a laugh.

"Who's sick, sadistic idea was it then??", he asked, leaning across the table with a wolfish grin. "Gods, you must be suffering being so close to a human. Then again, you've always enjoyed being God's punching bag, haven't you?". The Irishman glowered, chewing the inside of his bottom lip. A violent delight flashed in Herrick's piercing blue gaze as it trailed over Mitchell's expression. "You've thought about it, haven't you? Plunging your fangs into her soft flesh, drinking the sweetness of her hot blood". Mitchell shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting away from Herrick's in shame. "Letting that divine warmth trickle down your chin, finally satisfying the beast inside".

"Get to the point already", Mitchell snapped.

"You know what I want from you and it's all completely voluntary".

"To join your little 'army'? You really think this revolution is going to work, don't you?", he scoffed.

"I know it's going to work. We're high in number now, Mitchell. It's only a matter of time", Herrick insisted. "We want you back. I certainly do".

"And what if I did join you, Herrick?", Mitchell challenged. "Hypothetically. What would become of my life then?".

"Your friends are hardly our focus, Mitchell. We're using our gift to help people", the blonde huffed. "If you join us, I'll leave them be".

"Just like that?", Mitchell retorted. "So unlike you".

"Your friends are of no concern to me. One is a floating spirit, the other can't hope to lay a paw on me unless the moon is full and the last? Well, we all know how fragile humans are". Herrick tugged at his shoulders, taking another sip of his coffee. "If you're that worried for her, I can guarantee that she won't be harmed".

Mitchell's gaze narrowed in silent contemplation, suddenly widening at the sound of your voice. "Mitchell?", you called to him from the doorway of the canteen, a sense of horror filling him. You couldn't be here, not now. Herrick's grin widened, his charm switching on. The blonde smelt your scent from where he sat, recognising it as the same sweet smell he'd detected on Seth.

The Irishman stood, his counterpart following suit. You could tell something wasn't right, but the both of you stayed silent when you strayed into the room to embrace your friend. Herrick eyed you keenly, your eyes then falling onto him expectantly. "Well, Mitchell. Aren't you going to introduce us?", he chuckled.

"(Y/n), meet William Herrick", Mitchell's voice remained unenthusiastic. "Herrick, meet (Y/n)". Eagerly, the blonde officer shook your hand, almost startling you with his cold. Those keen eyes reminded you of– He had to be a vampire.

"A pleasure", he assured you, an unreadable twinkle to his blue eyes. "I'm an old friend of Mitchell's".

"Nice to meet you", you forced a smile in your nervousness. Mitchell's hand remained protectively on the small of your back, suddenly taking his chance to remove you from this situation.

"If you'll excuse us, Herrick. We really must be going", the Irishman began to pull you along steadily yet with some hurry, allowing for Herrick to show himself out whenever he chose.

"Of course, of course", he nodded, smiling knowingly. "You will consider my proposal, won't you?". Mitchell froze, turning over his shoulder to acknowledge Herrick's words with a curt nod before leaving.

"Who was that?", you asked when you both had reached the end of the hallway.

"Someone I would have preferred you never to meet", Mitchell sighed, sparing a worried glance over his shoulder. "But, it's done".

"I see now, I shouldn't have come".

"Nonsense. You got me out of there", he nudged you gently, the both of you lapsing into a short fit of laughter. "Why did you come?".

"I just wanted to walk home with you. Class finished early today", you gnawed on your lower lip nervously. He nodded in understanding,

"I'm off work anyway now". Maybe it was better that you had come to find him? With Herrick around, goodness knows who else could be lurking.

The walk home was comfortable, despite your previous awkwardness with Mitchell. In sensing that your hands were cold, the vampire had offered you the surprisingly warm crevice of his strong arm and his fingerless mittens. The sun was more forgiving today, hiding behind the rain clouds that were slowly moving in from the south. Mitchell had been practising going into public without his sunglasses. It was working for him, the dull brightness no longer affecting his sight. You smiled to yourself. With every passing day, he considered himself more human than the last. Yet, you already considered him more a human being than anyone else you'd met.

You both stepped into the house, expecting an excited Annie to greet you both. But, the house was dim and uncharacteristically quiet. A note was left on the table, saying that she was out shopping with George for tea bags among other important things for the pantry. "I can't imagine the tea canisters ever being empty again", Mitchell chuckled, slipping his jacket from his shoulders. In noticing your quiet, his brows furrowed. "Is something the matter?? Did Herrick frighten you?".

"No", you replied dismissively, waving him off with a smile. "I'm thinking".

"About??". Your eyes closed in a form of dread, bracing for the worst at your answer, "About us, Mitchell". He swallowed nervously. "What are we, you and me?". His hazel hues darted from yours, forcing a smile.

"We're friends?", he feigned confusion.

"Are we??", you challenged, your brows raising. Your eyes traced him. "I haven't stopped thinking about it, you know? That kiss".

"It was an accident", he insisted gently, his voice wavering in unsurity.

"Were your words an accident too, Mitchell??". His lashes fluttered, blinking away in anxiousness. He parted his lips to speak, but there was only silence. You stepped closer to his taller frame, your warmer hand reaching out hesitantly. Testing the waters, your fingertips brushed over his hand. He reciprocated in tangling your fingers within his. "Look, I know what you said could've been spur of the moment, but—".

"It wasn't", his soft voice cut in, his form moving almost flush against yours. His eyes were suddenly drawn to your own. "I meant what I said". He heard the flutters of your heart, every fibre of him being drawn to you. Your spare hand rested upon his silent chest, pulling him gently to you. His head dipped, your lashes tickling his skin. "We shouldn't—", he reasoned as his last form of restraint, his lips finally meeting yours.

And so, your dance with death began...

Fireworks gave off beneath your skin, Mitchell's spare hand reaching to twine his fingers into your hair. His other hand released yours to steady your face, your hands gripping his flannelette shirt to bring him closer. You both stumbled into the wall nearest to you, Mitchell's lips working in concentrated passion with your own. Your lips parted, his kiss becoming devouring. His fingers gripped at your hair, only tugging gently enough for a sigh to pass through your lips.

In retreating from your lips, he traced his own down your throat in delicate touches whilst you caught your breath. The temptation for your blood was undoubtedly there, being completely drowned out by Mitchell's other desires. His lips marked your collarbone, his lashes brushing over your skin when his ministrations grew slower. You sensed his hesitation, knowing that he must be growing worried.

To soothe him, your fingers wound through his dark curls whilst he worked, your lips brushing over his forehead and his cheek before you leant in close. "It's alright, Mitchell. I trust you". Your whisper against the shell of his ear, combined with your nails raking over his scalp awoke something almost feral within him.

More sure of himself, Mitchell's lips moved fervently across the skin of your neck. His tongue darted out to strike at your flesh, his lips caressing a place there that had you gasping. Mitchell's forehead met yours, his strong arms having no trouble in hoisting your legs around his waist, your hands grasping at his hair and shoulders.

His nose brushed yours, your lips moulding together in tender open-mouthed kisses as he guided you both out of the living space and up the stairs. Your waist moved against his, a soft groan heaving from his throat. "Christ, don't move like that, (Y/n). We'll never make it to the bedroom if you do", he warned with a playful grin, offering your lips another quick kiss before his steps lead you both into your room. One of his legs kicked out, the door slamming behind you both.

Mitchell's feet stumbled to the edge of your bed, the both of you smiling against each other's lips when they met again sweetly. His arms suddenly became absent beneath you, a short cry leaving your lips when you crashed onto your mattress. A laugh slipped from you, Mitchell's expression mirroring your own. His fingers gripped his undershirt, lazily pulling it and his flannel shirt over his head at the same time. "You're certainly praticed at this", you jested, his brows wiggling suggestively.

"You haven't seen me with a bra", Mitchell replied with a short giggle, discarding his clothing. You stood from the bed, circling your arms around his broad frame.

Carefully, you'd noted his battle scars from his time at war, his hazel gaze glinting with a tenderness in watching you look over them. His lips parted when your mouth and fingertips graced over those old wounds affectionately. No one had ever cared for or noticed those marks before. "Thank you", he murmured against your forehead, a soft smile still present in his gratitude. His fingers moved to your back, silently asking for permission.

"Please", you responded, his face lighting up. The Irishman pressed a kiss along your jaw, before lifting your shirt over your head. You nodded, beckoning him to continue. His lips ignited goosebumps over your skin when they kissed slowly and sensually along your bare shoulders. With a twisting of his fingers, your bra clasp suddenly fell loose, the garment being completely discarded. Your brows rose. "You weren't kidding".

Another soft giggle slipped from Mitchell's lips, his hazel hues glittering with adoration when they met your own. "You're so, so beautiful", his hushed breath fanned over your skin. His cooler hands grazed over your bare back in loving caresses, moving his hand to cup one of your breasts. He only swiped his thumb over your bud, your form jolting forwards into his instinctively. His head ducked, laying feathersoft kisses on your lips, cascading down your throat again, his hands tracing soft patterns over the sensitive flesh of your stomach to the hem of your pants.

"Please, Mitchell", you begged softly, the Irishman wasting no time in pulling the button of your pants loose, allowing them to form a pile by your feet.

Mitchell guided you gently onto the mattress, his form coming to hover over your own. His large hand flattened over your stomach, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"Do you want me to—", he began, inching his fingers lower in suggestion.

"Yes". His soul warmed, the vampire relishing in how trusting and carefree you were within each other. He delighted in the gasp that tumbled from your lips when his digits slipped into your underwear, quickly becoming coated in your slick. Your nails clawed into the muscles of his arm when he moved them languidly between your folds and across that sensitive bundle of nerves. He bit down on his lip to fight his smile at feeling you writhing beneath him, letting him know wordlessly in your huffs and mutterings that he was hitting all the right places. His teeth nibbled against the shell of your ear pleasurably, hoping to get your folds slick enough in preparation for him. You fought your building high, begging Mitchell to stop. He obeyed, a soft laugh escaping him when your hands worked down the bare skin of his abdomen, to tug on the hem of his pants. The Irishman relented to your shared wants, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. Both his boxers and jeans were removed together, quickly becoming discarded with the other items of your clothing.

Mitchell's soft lips seized your own, your hands coming to cradle his face. He braced himself on your mattress, lining himself up carefully. Once sure, his hips snapped upwards, your mouth falling open against his. His eyes fell closed in a squint, his dark brows furrowing as a shaky moan passed through his throat. Your breaths steadied as you became adjusted to him, his hips slowly beginning to rock into your own experimentally. You hummed eagerly, snatching his lips into your own. "Mitchell", his name tumbled from your lips, your fingers lacing into those thick curls as his pace quickened.

His kisses were searing, but gentle. There was mixtures of your teeth and his, pulling at each other as Mitchell's movements became deeper. The thirst for your blood had him tensing and grimacing, his lower lip being drawn between his teeth in concentration. A metallic taste hit his tongue; his own blood from biting down so hard. You helped to keep him grounded, allowing his hands to run across your open palms before pinning them to the mattress.

The Irishman's brows remained furrowed, focused on giving and sharing in your pleasure. Your breathy whimpers, soft curses and ragged gasping were all music to his ears. He found joy in the fact there was a deeper connection than just lust or a means to feed, as sex had often been for him. It was instead loving, slow and caring towards each other's needs. Mitchell finally felt that he could love and be loved equally in return.

A sharp gasp suddenly slipped from your throat, Mitchell hitting a place that had you seeing stars. Your back arched into him, your waist snapping up to meet his rhythmic movements. Feeling a heat tightening in his lower abdomen, Mitchell didn't allow himself to lose any self control over the side of him that hungered for your blood. His hazel eyes flickered open, ablaze with desire and adoration. Your heated breaths mingled, Mitchell's lips lowering again to your own. Gods, you really were beautiful.

With your heart now racing, you felt every wave of stimulation building up within you. You felt your eyes lolling back, Mitchell's movements allowing him to continuously drag across that spot in you without mercy. "Oh, Mitchell", you sighed, your gaze barely able to focus on his face.

Mitchell smiled. You were so close now, he could feel it. Your breaths had quickened and you were practically squirming with every thrust. His hands pinned yours higher, holding them down with only one. His now spare hand travelled between the small space between your moving bodies, a small cry of pleasure shooting from you when his digits began rubbing circles over your small bud.

Mitchell's tongue traced the skin beneath your ear, fighting the painful urges to feed from you whilst he pressed hot open-mouthed kisses to your flesh. His ministrations in time with his thrusts were too much, suddenly hitting a boiling point within you.

Trembling beneath him, your throat suddenly tightened, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. Your eyes squeezed shut, your back arching again into him as all the gravity in the room seemed to change. Mitchell's name was a hushed mantra on your lips, the winding tightness snapping within Mitchell's abdomen not long after. His body felt alight with a sudden wave of euphoria as a few strained grunts left his lips. Your name tumbled from his lips amidst a string of other profanities, slowly coming down from his high and allowing you to ride out yours.

When his movements ceased, your bodies remained tangled for a few moments, completely reduced to putty within each other's embrace. Mitchell's eyes had closed, suddenly shooting open in concern. There was no blood, well— he wiped at his mouth, the crimson wetness of his own apparent on his fingers. Fang marks were etched into his skin where he'd bitten down harshly. Shocked at his own restraint, he looked down at your peaceful expression with a growing smile. He'd done it.

Your (e/c) orbs flickered open, a lazy smile meeting your eyes when you cradled his face. Unbothered by the blood, your lips captured his, stroking your fingers over his skin when he returned the kiss. When your lips parted, your fingertips traced over his small wounds in concern. "It's fine", he insisted softly, noting your worry. "Hardly hurt".

Removing himself from you, Mitchell happily took it upon himself to carefully clean you both up with a warm cloth. Neither of you redressed, slipping under your covers to relax in each other's arms.

Pulling Mitchell's dark curls from his face, his head shifted from its place upon your chest to gaze up at you. His wounds on his mouth had miraculously healed after he'd cleaned them, your brows rising in wonder. "Was it hard for you?", you asked with great hesitation. Knowing what you were referring to, the Irishman felt that he should be honest.

"It was", he murmured, conceding that his predatory side was quite painful to control. You took a breath, your lips parting. A silent debate on whether or not to ask.

"If I wasn't human, would that make things easier for you?". Catching on to what you meant, Mitchell's brows furrowed,

"Why would you ever want to give up what you are to become like me??".

"To lessen your pain, to be with you without risk of injury or loss". A kind, yet sad smile dawned on the Irishman's strong features, his hand reaching to sweep the fringe from your face.

"All are human", he whispered, his hand retreating from your face to curl his arm around you affectionately. "You don't want this life, (Y/n). And I won't give it to you".

"Why not??", you asked quietly. Hazel hues danced over your features, his fingers drawing imaginary patterns along the bare skin of your abdomen before grasping your hand. He placed it over his cheek, your thumb caressing over the stubble of his face. His head leant into your touch, his mouth pressing a kiss into your palm.

"I'd miss this warmth. Your skin is so beautifully warm to the touch. All that life; gone in an instant", he sighed, squeezing your hand. Mitchell moved his head to lay it where your heart thrummed beneath your skin. "I'd miss hearing this sound too. It's soothing".

You couldn't help the smile that came to your face, having no prior idea that he'd appreciated these things so much. Whilst you swept your hand over his hair in careful strokes, he continued, "(Y/n), this life took all of that and more from me. I'm just thankful that this life gave me you, but I won't let it take that from me too".

"I'm not going anywhere", you assured him, softly laying a comforting kiss to the top of his hair.

The haunting image of Lauren's hatred filled his mind. Mitchell couldn't handle it if ever you looked at him in that way, the way she had. The thought terrified him to no end, his eyes furiously blinking away the tears forming in his gaze. "This life changes you, (Y/n). I wouldn't wish it on anyone", he mumbled, pressing a kiss to the skin of your chest. "You're perfect as you are. And I love you".

Your embrace tightened around the Irishman, both your eyes and his coming to a restful close. "I love you too, Mitchell".

In the many days and weeks that followed, your relationship with the vampire flourished. George and Annie were overjoyed when the both of you made your status known. Mitchell was now sure of where he belonged in the world and what he'd do to protect those people closest to him.

Foolishly thinking that Herrick had growing morals and that he'd offer his family protection, Mitchell had made the decision to accept the proposal. The blonde's jaw almost hit the floor when Mitchell marched through the doors of his office at B. Edwards.

"They won't be harmed? I have your word??". Smiling broadly, Herrick replied,

"Of course".

"I'm in".

The vampires welcomed Mitchell back into their coven with open arms. It was blissful at first, to be part of his own kind again. The Irishman hated the stories told about his early days as a vampire, having no choice but to give in to his urges to survive back then. It was a time he'd rather forget.

Herrick respected that Mitchell still wished not to feed on humans, hoping that he would come around at some point. The blonde was recruiting more people, saving them from the cusp of death to live in his growing underground society. Mitchell gave him the edge and reputation he needed just by standing in the room. It was perfect.

Until you'd found out from Josie, another former lover of Mitchell's from the 60s, that Mitchell was getting himself into a lot of trouble. She'd met you only a week or two ago, over the moon that Mitchell was pursuing a strong relationship with yourself. Now she worried that it would all end in tatters if he went on any longer with Herrick and his goons.

You'd had no idea, alike to Annie and George, that Mitchell had joined Herrick. Feeling as if your trust had somewhat been betrayed in him not telling you, you had also grown confused. "He hates Herrick— why— what could make him join that man?", you sputtered. Josie's hand clasped your own.

"Mitchell does a lot for those he loves", she sighed wistfully. "He tried to get Herrick to convince me to join them, in their society. To stop my cancer. As honourable as it seemed, he knows as well as I that death is human".

Your mouth fell open slightly, the truth striking you almost painfully. This sounded so different from the Mitchell you knew. Your mind drifted back to his words to you in the afterglow of your first lovemaking. It seemed so long ago now. Josie squeezed your hand. "You need to stop him, (Y/n). Find him. Get him back. I'll tell George". You nodded, returning the gesture before breaking into a sprint down the street.

Every thought you had was honed on Mitchell. You had an inkling to his whereabouts, George having mentioned something about a 'B. Edwards' place to you once. You prayed that you'd get there in time, a sinking feeling beginning to pool in the pits of your stomach.

Your legs burned with fatigue and your lungs gasped for air in the cool winds of the day, your journey leading you through many streets. The funeral home was only a handful of blocks from your house, the sign with 'B. Edwards', like an eery archway over the gates when you'd spotted it. Fury and adrenaline coursed through your system, not caring or thinking when you passed through the glass doors of the establishment.

An elderly woman sat to your left upon entry, her pale eyes fixed on a magazine. The air was unusually cold and musty, every piece of furniture or decor an antique. Your entry sparked the male seated at the desk to rise to his feet. You instantly recognised his face. Seth. Your mind flashed to that night from months ago and it seemed his did as well when a sly grin grew onto his features. "Nice to see you again, Lovely—", he started.

"Where's Mitchell?". Your question had the growing fire in his eyes dimming into a scowl.

"She certainly gets her manners from Mitchell, don't you think?", Herrick laughed upon entering the room, responding to you before his counterpart could. Your eyes darted to the blonde male who offered you a charming smile. "Come now, we're all friends here".

"Just tell me where he is and I'll be on my way", you snapped.

" 'On your way'??", he repeated, wholeheartedly amused. "That just wouldn't be good hospitality, Darling". Your teeth clenched within your mouth, fighting the urge to scream in frustration. "Nanna has made us some lovely biscuits and tea! We'd be so delighted to have you!". The way he'd offered it was so lighthearted, anyone else would've thought him kind. You knew better.

Seth rounded the desk all too quickly, flanking your right to ensure you couldn't escape. The elderly lady, you came to realise, was the vampire Herrick had referred to. She eyed you keenly from where she sat, also making sure you couldn't run. Seth's hand was at the ready, hovering behind you to grip your arm should it be necessary.

With reluctance, you forced a smile, Herrick delighting in your decision to join them without struggle. You marched forwards at your own accord, slowly realising that every set of eyes in this establishment belonged to a vampire. The way they stared was so unlike Mitchell's glance. His was soft, kind. Every gaze here was fixed on you like a vulture. Some part of you wished you'd brought a weapon or a stake with you before rushing into this situation.

Herrick lead you with a kind hand on the small of your back to a room with biscuits and tea laid upon the table. "Have a seat there, Love", he gestured to a comfortable seat, the anxiety and regret rising into your throat. Still, Herrick's voice remained feathersoft, unintimidating. His touch had given you chills, his blue gaze seeming to see through you. Two security guards, also vampires, flanked Herrick. Seth quickly left your side to attend the front desk again once you were seated.

The blonde poured you a cup of tea, adding but a sugar or two before passing it across the dining table. "Pick yourself some biscuits, Love", he grinned. "Don't be shy, now". You didn't trust the tea or the biscuits, afraid they'd been drugged or laced with something malicious. Vampires were immune to poisons and drugs, after all.

"Where's Mitchell?", you repeated your question, more gentle than it had been with Seth. "I want to speak with him".

"Mitchell's just out for the moment. When he's back, I'll give him straight to you". His response was careful and you didn't trust his words in the slightest. "I'm sure he'd appreciate us taking care of you. After all, it's what he wanted?".

"Liar", you muttered, his brows raising.

"How you wound me, (Y/n)", he sighed with some disappointment. "I wasn't lying. How else do you think I managed to convince him to join us?". He took a sip of his tea, eyeing you from the lip of his cup. "Goodness knows why he protects you. You clearly hurt him more than your words could ever hurt me". Your brows creased.

"What are you talking about?". A soft laugh slipped from the blonde,

"What? Hasn't he told you?". Herrick took your silence as his answer, growing further amused with the situation. "He's in pain, Sweetheart. Every day. To be near a human is agonising enough for a few moments. Mitchell has to live with you, 24/7". His blue gaze trailed over your features. "It's a wonder he hasn't given in yet or turned you".

A thickness formed in your throat, the guilt swirling in your eyes. Mitchell had never mentioned such pain to you. Was it really that difficult for him??

"He told me he'd never give me this life", you shot back. "That this life changes you. And as far as I'm concerned, I'll take his advice in not wanting it". Herrick pursed his lips, a slow sigh exhaling from his nostrils. Softly, his head shook in some semblance of dejection.

"Now that is a pity", he sighed. "But to be expected". Your brows furrowed again in confusion. "Mitchell has truly got you wound around that thumb of his to blind you so easily from the gift that is immortality".

"Gift?", you scoffed. "It took everything from him!".

"Is that what he told you?", Herrick huffed in amusement, beginning to drum his fingers on the table. "The same man who would pass immortality out like pamphlets on the street? It's thanks to Mitchell that our recruitment is up, Sweetheart".

You blinked profusely, stiffening up in a sense of disbelief. Yet, there was no dishonesty in Herrick's keen blue gaze as it scanned over you the way Seth's had. It was unsettling.

"You poor girl", he mused, his grin becoming almost wolfish. "How misplaced your loyalty has been. It can have better uses. With any luck".

"What do you mean?". And that's when you noted the rhythm of Herrick's fingers. It almost sounded like a heartbeat, progressively growing quicker. Taunting you.

The guards that flanked the blonde's side slowly shifted, your arms gripping your chair and eyeing them in nervousness. "Listen", Herrick whispered, drumming his fingers louder. "That's your heartbeat, (Y/n). Savour that sound. It just may very well be the last time you hear it".

________________________________________

I hope you all enjoyed this second instalment with a part three coming soon!! As always, any and all feedback is welcome!! If you want to be a part of my taglist, check out my masterlist and let me know what you'd like to be tagged in!! Thank you all for stopping by and supporting my works!! ❤❤

#being human #being human uk #john mitchell #john mitchell x reader #mitchell x reader #john mitchell smut #fanfiction #aidan turner #gif not mine #credit to creator

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dollerinna · 7 months ago

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I WANT TO F**K YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL .

( black noir x fem supe!reader )

summary: the not-so-innocent things that go on in noir’s head abt you during The Seven meetings (wc: 1.8k)

warnings: MDNI, dub-con, rough p in v, doggy style, primal play themes, size kink, gagging, sobbing, corruption kink, Homelander being a weirdo at the end… just a lil’

first fic on this blog and I lowkey hate it- ughhh sorry if it’s all over the place!

The morning sun cast its golden glow upon the Manhattan skyline as The Seven assembled in their meeting room.

Homelander paced before them, detailing some new initiative he had conceived, but his words rang as emptily as the void behind his eyes. The Deep hung on his every syllable, eager as ever to prove his ass-kissing self with poorly-timed quips. This earned him nothing but a withering side-eye.

A-Train and Maeve listened with feigned interest, checking out of the conversation all but in body. Noir sat apart, idly fidgeting with a pen as his mind wandered. But his attention was drawn not to the usual faces, for there was a new supe among them—you, the latest fresh-faced recruit to their team.

On the surface, you appeared the absolute picture of attention—eyes forward, laser focused on Homelander as he tiresomely outlined the team's objectives.

It was cute, really, how focused the newbies always strived to be. Yet beneath the facade, you were actually anything but so, not when you felt an unseen gaze assessing you, weighing you.

Flicking your eyes discreetly aside, you confirmed a suspicion you could smell from miles away: Noir watching from across the table, his expression shrouded as ever behind the visor of his helmet.

Ugh, talk about creepy.

A subtle flutter of your eyelids shifted your line of sight, choosing to trust that his thousand-yard stare just so casually happen to drift your way and not an attempt to burn his gaze into your very soul.

Besides, what else could the guy possibly think about? Training, orders from Vought, simple pastimes—usually, such painfully mundane, run-of-the-mill thoughts occupied him.

But little did you know in this moment, as he studied your presence from afar, his mental reflections took a turn less… innocent.

─────────────────

“N-Noir… mmph-… please…”

It wasn’t his doing, he didn’t ask to be plagued with this sickly obsession; but every time he heard your voice, it was as if sweet, smooth-spun sugar had come alive.

An alien lust scorched Noir’s consciousness, catapulting his fevered mind into unfamiliar territory. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the sinful thoughts that stubbornly stuck to him like glue. Just the mere notion of ever being responsible for those pretty little sounds was enough for arousal to creep through his veins like a nasty virus, sapping what was left of his crumbling self-control.

Your every whine, your every moan, would be a siren's call that beckoned him to claim you, to strip away your composure until you were utterly, helplessly his. All he craved was to watch the light in your eyes dwindle, to witness your breaths dampening into shallow puffs of air that blanketed your gaze in a veil of fog, gradually muffling you into a stillness even quieter than he was.

And truthfully, it wasn’t a matter of whether you liked it or not.

Noir would ensure his touch left no room for refusal, his grasp iron-hard as he positioned your trembling, naked body on the floor to his liking—face pinned down, ass arched up, just as it should be. Yet even as he held you fast with a palm braced against your sweat-slicked spine, his other hand moved with a surprising tenderness, gently teasing loose and brushing apart the knotted strands of hair clung to your ruddied features.

He imagined the merest of touches would set your blood aflame, rumbling up a ripe groan from your core. “…Oh m-my god… fuck…” words fled your mouth on airless breaths, nearly inaudible but still enough for him to catch. In response, he’d slowly lift a finger to your glistening lips, accompanied by a soundless ‘shh’—a signal for you to behave.

After all, good girls should never cuss.

Large, strong hands would then greedily paw at the lush fat of your ass cheeks, the scratchy textured fabric of his gloves leaving blooms of red across your flesh. Spreading you open, he’d admire the way your juicy, moist folds parted slightly, the aching emptiness within your entrance eliciting an involuntary clenching—your muted moans, trapped in your throat, acting as a wordless plea for more of his touch, more of him.

He liked to think you’d be mere putty in his hands, before he was even close to fucking you.

Noir would take his sweet time exploring you, his curiosity of the human form eclipsing the immediate need to quell a white-hot carnal desire every red-blooded man gets. He was good at rearranging people’s insides, literally, but what if he flipped the script in a much different way?

Experimentally, he’d run the very tip of his gloved finger along the weeping slit of your sex, ghosting ever so lightly over your swollen, hypersensitive clit to collect your slick arousal. Then, without warning, he’d dip an entire digit into your quivering depths, reveling in the way your spongy muscles squeezed and welcomed him in.

Your breath would hitch at the intrusion, skin prickling with a visceral need as you eagerly shoved your rear back against his palm, craving more. However, just as swiftly, he would withdraw his hand, bringing it close to his face to observe it covered in your juices, inspecting how the slimy, milky-white essence connected a trail between his fingers.

Who knew light fondling and agonizing silence was all the foreplay you needed? (or at least, in Noir’s fanciful pornographic depictions of you)

Once done playing with his food, he’d drag his knees closer to your body, his hips flush against your ass, leaving your peripheral vision filled with nothing but his imposing, darkly-clad figure dwarfing your own. Without hesitation, he’d reach down to remove the codpiece off him, freeing his hefty cock which sprang forth in the air, where it stood rock-hard, veiny, and impossibly large.

Wrapping a hand around himself, the thickly-roped, buzzing veins were betrayed by each gritty pull of his glove, drawing a guttural grunt from behind his balaclava. He’d guide his erection between your warm folds, the engorged ridge of his tip prodding against your bundle of nerves, sending electric jolts of pleasure to crackle through your core, before he began to sheathe himself inside you with a push that drove him home.

With a grip possessive and firm around your waist, Noir quickly fell into a steady, almost robotic rhythm of sturdy pushes and pulls. Each punishing collision of your bodies was answered by the lewd, rapid sounds of skin-on-skin, making damn sure you felt every single inch of him as he rutted into you like a man possessed.

He’d only hope to see you struggle taking him all in, envisioning how the sheer scale of his size forced the very air out from your gasping lungs.

“P-Please Noir!… ngh-… my body can’t handle this much,” your once-lovely voice now ragged and frail, scraping sobs grinding your vocal cords near silence as you churned and coiled like a fawn caught in the clutches of a big, bad wolf. “Be gentle, I’m begging you!—-” You choked out weakly, bordering on a soft, pitiful whine.

Expectantly, a weighted silence followed suit from Noir. In his typical, unsparing fashion, he slipped a glove from his hand, jamming it into your mouth and effectively gagging you into silence, as if to say—pipe down, be a good girl, and take my cock like you’re supposed to.

Even without a single word uttered by him, it worked like absolute fucking magic.

Your torso would practically collapse under the onslaught, wobbly limbs giving way as you let Noir use your arched up, offering form like a personal fleshlight. His hips would retract further back in an excruciating slowness, simply marveling at your wetness coating the base of his member like a second skin, only to slam back into you with raw vigor.

Your tight, gummy walls would be offered absolutely no time to adjust to the relentless invasion of his girth, the sheer thickness of his cock forcefully stretching out your cunt to shape him, to the point it felt like he was trying to split you into two.

He’d yank your flexing thighs back to meet his brutal series of thrusts, burying himself into you to the very tilt as the fleshy head of his cock kissed your cervix, igniting a searing white bolt of static to lance through your vision, momentarily fracturing it.

The all-consuming, dizzying sensation hit you like a ton of bricks, toppling your senses and wrenching a strangled sob out from your slack jaw once more. This earned you another biting touch from Noir’s thumbs pressed into your sides, as if seeking to wring every gasp out of your chest, to hear your moans rattle through your ribcage.

However even your rawest cries were swiftly muffled, swallowed by the balled-up glove shoved roughly between your teeth, which reduced you to nothing more than a gagging, pleasure-drunk whore for him to claim.

─────────────────

Meanwhile…

“Welp, that about covers it for today,” Homelander announced with a thunderous clap, loud enough for it to ring through Noir’s ears and bring him back to the present.

Slowly, Noir spun his head back towards Homelander, who had just finished addressing the team while his own thoughts drifted to places where even the pearly gates of heaven wouldn't give him the time of day.

“Now shoo- and no more sloppy behavior. I’ll be keeping an eye on each and every one of you.” Homelander dismissed them with a casual wave and a chuckle laced with another one of his thinly veiled threats.

As everyone, including little-miss-oblivious-you, got up to leave the meeting room, Homelander sauntered over to Noir, heartily slapping a heavy hand onto his back. “Earth to Noir! I know that look—thoughts a million miles away behind that sphinx-like mask of yours,” giving a sly little shrug, he slanted a meaningful look towards Noir’s codpiece. “But methinks, someone here isn’t as impenetrable as I thought…” A thin wry smile played his lips, a subtle hint at his x-ray vision allowing him to see a particular something-something of Noir’s that was currently just as hard as his body armor.

“It might do you good to line that suit with zinc. Wouldn't want any unwanted eyes peeking where they shouldn’t, do we?" An amused exhale, part sigh part snicker, slipped out of Homelander as his gaze swept over Noir once more.

True to form, all he received in turn was Noir’s standard muteness, as soundless as a grave.

Homelander eased the quiet with a huffed laugh, rocking back on his heels as he tilted his head in playful study of Noir. "But don't worry," he added with a knowing smirk, "it happens to the best of us. But do try to keep your head in the game! And not with your other one, ‘kay buddy?” Homelander jested in mock-reproach as he landed one last waggish, firm slap between Noir's shoulders, flashing his gleaming white yet eerily pointed grin.

Noir remained statue still, no hint of feeling betrayed by his rigid posture despite the toe-curling awkwardness of the encounter, or perhaps he'd yet to fully realize Homelander had peered within and seen his aching, raging hard-on behind the suit's facade.

Noir silently watched Homelander shoot two playful finger guns, his cape swirled shut behind him before leaving the room.

-------☆-------

Pssst- Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated in this household and keep me motivated! <3

-------☆-------

Apologies if there are any grammatical errors here, cuz I’m alr so done with this fic 😭😭😭

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stillinracooncity · 2 years ago

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I'm still waiting for new updates because my body doesn't accept only one shots, it needs a complete story full of drama from beginning to end…

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call-sign-shark · 1 year ago

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Navigation for Lost Souls

Drowning in the abyss?

The name is Shark, I'm 28 and I'm a content creator. In this blog, you'll find everything I write/create for my fandoms. I am mainly writing for the Peaky Blinders fandom atm but you will also find a handful of works I crafted for Top Gun: Maverick and upcoming ones for both the Grisha verse and OPLA.

I don't bite or at least not too hard, so feel free to jump in my DM and Asks, I'll be more than happy to chat with you.

Requests are semi-open and most works are 🔞.

Peaky Blinders

Direct link to Masterlist: Heaven in Your Eyes 🪽

Direct link to Masterlist: Tangled Desires 🫧

Direct link to Masterlist: Tender Cuts ( Luca Changretta x OC)

Top Gun & TG: Maverick

Shadow & Bone (Saga Grisha)

Heaven Lavey Shelby (Original Character)

Heaven's second masterlist

Hunger Games (AU)

Game of Thrones (AU)

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frksh0w-dar1ing · 7 months ago

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PLEASE IM LOOKING FOR FICS I NEED THEM!!!!

more people should be ungodly obsessed with john mitchell from being human. he's a beautiful emo irish vampire with the worst fashion sense in the world. he's killed so many people but he feels so so so bad about it. he is so absolutely cringefail he gets roasted by children on the street and actually gets annoyed. he fought in WWI. he was in casablanca but you can't see him because he doesn't show up on film. he is in recovery for addiction (blood) and keeps relapsing (murder). he loves the real hustle and he's LITERALLY doing the washing up.

#being human #john mitchell #john mitchell x reader #the state of the bh ao3 is abysmal and i understand that this is a niche show from over a decade ago but what about Me.#being human x reader

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thegoldfishkid13 · 1 year ago

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Character list/ Master list Requests are Open!!

Smut* Fluff<3 Angst ^

Twilight

Jasper hale

Transformed- x human reader <3^

Gone x human reader<3^

Granted x human reader<3^

Carlisle Cullen

Alice Cullen

Staying the night with you x human reader <3

Rosalie Hale

Red Eyes *

Top gun

Rooster/Bradley Bradshaw

Hangman/Jake Serein

Phoenix/Natasha Trace

Maverick/Pete Mitchell

Iceman/ Tom Kazansky

Maverick and Iceman

Revenge 2 3 4 ^

The outsiders

Pony boy Curtis

Bathroom Hideout <3

Sodapop Curtis

Wrong person <3

Snow Date <3

Girls Gone Wild- Modern AU

Dallas Winston

The show <3

Harry Potter

Remus lupin

The stars

Regulus Black

Home again

Rules with requests:

Please have details of what you want when requesting

Smut can be requested but I have never written it

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ang3lsbl0g · 12 days ago

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Intro

MDNI & support creators — divider credit @cafekitsune

Other — @enchanthings

Please do not interact with my page if you are under 18, I cannot stop you from reading but please do not interact with me.

Hello, you can call me angel. I will more then likely write about what I am interested in, so yes you can squeeze fan fics out of me.

My Boundaries -

Yes - dming, chatting, interacting with me if you are over 18

No - asking about me personally, trying to get me to write something I have previously said i will not write.

Requests boundaries —

I will never turn my requests off unless I am getting death threats or such.

Do not - pressure me to reply, your request might have been boring and I decided to not do it.

Do - request nicely and give me details on what you want, unless you want me to do whatever on the fan fic

Characters — any Jake gyllenhaal character that isn’t Donnie Darko or a kid (under 18!), cod characters (male only), most video games I will be able to write a fic for you, example ; rdr2, last of us, life is strange (idk who you’d request there but yk.), etc etc

Master lists !

Jake gyllenhaal master list — here!

Call of duty master list — here!

Please request other characters for different master lists!

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yourfriendlyneighbourhoodsimp · 12 hours ago

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no thoughts just 🥹🥹🥹

Broken Teacups

John Mitchell x Reader

Words: 3155

Summary: With life seemingly falling apart around her, the reader tries to keep up appearances for her roommates. After a major breakdown, she finds that the person there for her the most is right in front of her.

Notes: I’m on a comfort kick, so this is another one that’s going to be a healthy mix of angst and sappiness. It’s also a bit of a mess, but I enjoyed writing it, so hopefully my fellow Mitchell fans will like it too.

You were trying. That was all you had to say for yourself at this point. You weren’t hiding under your covers, despite how much you desperately wanted to rest. So that meant you were trying, right?

You sat at the kitchen table, stirring your spoon around and around in your tea and absentmindedly listening to the metal clink against the ceramic edge. You hadn’t touched a bit of your breakfast, but you weren’t really that hungry. You just stared at the swirling liquid, your mind lost in all the reasons you wanted to stay home all day.

Behind you, your three roommates watched you with looks of concern. George and Annie exchanged a glance, but Mitchell kept his eyes on you. He wanted to put a hand on your shoulder and ask what was wrong but he feared that he would just make things worse, as he often did.

“Morning.” George greeted quietly. You jumped at the sound, whirling your head around to look at them.

“Oh. Morning.” You felt the heat rush to your cheeks and you finally took a sip of your tea, hoping to portray a little normality so they wouldn’t be worried about you. They each had enough to deal with. Besides, it wasn’t as if there was really anything wrong. Aside from turning into a wolf once a month, you were probably the most put together out of the four of you. You were on your way to a promotion at work, you were in a steady relationship, and you’d learned how to manage being a werewolf without completely locking yourself in a cellar for the rest of your life.

So why did you feel so… wrong?

“Oh, Y/N, did you tell the boys about work?” Annie said excitedly, hoping to lighten your spirits. You gave her a small smile as the three joined you at the table.

“I’m hoping to get a promotion today. Terri’s been talking about it for a while and I think she’s going to make me project manager.” You said it as if it weren’t a big deal, but the three of them cheered. Mitchell even jumped out of his seat to give you a hug.

“That’s amazing, Y/N.” He whispered, arms locked tightly around you. A thought crept into your head. A sneaking, terrifying, wonderful thought that you could never say out loud. I want to stay like this forever.

You pushed it from your head. You couldn’t feel that way about Mitchell. He was your roommate and best friend in the world. Sure, he was an offensively sexy vampire with gorgeous eyes and killer smile- pun intended- but you couldn’t have feelings for him. You had Ollie. And yet you felt a twinge of sadness when Mitchell pulled away.

“We’re so proud of you.” He grinned. His eyes were sparkling with pride and something else that you were sure you had imagined. No matter what secret feelings you harbored, you knew that Mitchell could never feel that way.

“I don’t know if I got it or not. It’s just a lot of hope and praying right now.” You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.

“Don’t be so modest. You’re brilliant.” He put a hand on your shoulder and had that stupid, beautiful look in his eyes again.

No. There was no look. You were just imagining it.

“He’s right, Y/N. You’re the cleverest person on that project. If Terri doesn’t put you in charge, then she’s a fool.” Annie chirped enthusiastically.

“I agree,” George added, lifting up his mug in cheers.

“I’ve seen those sketches you try to hide from us,” Mitchell smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “You deserve this.”

You felt your face turning red and looked down at the tiles. “Thanks, guys.”

“What has Ollie said about it?” Annie gushed. Mitchell stepped away from you, turning so that his back was to you.

While you and Annie talked about Ollie and his perfect job and his perfect face and his perfect everything, Mitchell did his best to keep his jealous expression hidden from you. If he could see his reflection, he was sure he was scowling. He didn’t mean to be so bitter, especially since you seemed to be completely and utterly happy.

Happier than he could make you.

“Oh god, is that the time?” You exclaimed, jumping up from the table. You had gotten so in your head about this promotion, you didn’t realize you were ten minutes late for your commute. “I can’t be late. I’ll see you guys later.”

“Good luck!” Annie shouted as the door slammed shut behind you. “Oh, I hope she gets it. We could use a little celebration around here.”

“She seems to be the only person there with a brain, so I’d be shocked if she didn’t,” Mitchell added. Annie shot him a look.

“Ollie works there too, you know.”

Mitchell shrugged. “And?”

“What has Ollie ever done to-” A look of giddy realization washed over her and Mitchell instantly regretted his comments. He grimaced as she squealed “Oh my god, you fancy Y/N, don’t you?”

“Of course not.”

“You so fancy her!” Annie started to pace with a skip in her step. “All of the hugs and shoulder touches and smiles and giggles- you’ve got it bad, my friend.”

“I haven’t got anything. You’re being ridiculous.” He sat down with a huff. “Y/N is with Ollie. Besides, she lives across the hall from me. The idea of being anything more than friends is…” He trailed off. Annie and George exchanged a glance and finished their breakfast with smirks on their faces.

Your body was buzzing all morning. You weren’t sure if you were anxious or excited or terrified or all at once. You’d wanted to be an architect for as long as you could remember and this promotion brought you one step closer to getting your designs out there. It seemed so trivial compared to what you went through every full moon, but your drive, your hope… it kept you human.

“There you are.” You sighed, spotting Ollie by the coffee machine. “I’ve been shaking all morning. I can’t get these jitters to go away!” You grabbed his hand, but he pulled away.

“Y/N, there’s something you should know about today-”

“There’s my favorite power couple.” Terri grabbed Ollie by the arm and started to drag him towards the conference room, motioning for you to follow. There was something about her tone that was off to you. Like she knew something you didn’t.

You followed her and Ollie to the conference room, joined by the rest of the people in the office. The way Ollie kept glancing over at you made you pause. What was going on? Why were he and Terri acting so weird? You noticed the way her hand crept down to his, giving it a squeeze before motioning for everyone to take a seat.

“Alright everyone, I think we all know what’s coming today, so let’s just get it out of the way, shall we?” Terri grinned. “Today, I’ve finally decided on the new project manager and head designer.”

Your body tensed, your nerves forming a giant lump in your throat. This was it.

“And I’m more than pleased to announce that our new design manager is… Ollie!” She announced happily, pulling your boyfriend into a more than friendly hug. The rest of the room applauded tentatively, a few eyes darting over in your direction.

You told yourself that it was for the best. Ollie was talented and hardworking- granted he had gotten his ideas from you for years, but that didn’t matter. You just couldn’t get Terri’s knowing smirk out of your head. Something was going on, but you just told yourself that it was jealousy over the job.

“Congratulations.” You said breathlessly, Ollie pulling you into a kiss. It felt forced.

“Alright everyone, Ollie will be giving you some new design ideas that we all need to get started on.” Terri clapped her hands together. “Let’s get going.”

You all walked out of the room like sheep while Ollie and Terri went back into her office. You didn’t want to look so disappointed- Ollie was your boyfriend after all. You should be happy for him.

There it was. That empty, sinking feeling. The one that made it so hard to leave Mitchell’s embrace this morning. It shouldn’t be bothering you so much and yet there it was. You couldn’t even begin to focus on the notes Ollie had handed out, but you noticed a few things that looked oddly familiar. These were your plans. Of course, the two of you had always bounced ideas off of each other, but you’d never shared these with him before.

Hoping to get some answers, you knocked on Terri’s office door.

“Hello? Is Ollie still with you? I think I have some-” You opened the door and stopped dead. There, on Terri’s desk, Ollie was leaning over your boss with her legs around his waist. They only stopped kissing when they realized you were there.

“Y/N… shit....” Ollie muttered, rubbing the lipstick off his face.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You exclaimed, throwing the notes on the floor. “‘My favorite power couple,’ ‘I’m so glad there are more women in the office,’ ‘I think of you more as a friend than an employee.’ It’s all shit, isn’t it?”

Terri straightened out her skirt and gave you a smile that was far too calm. “Y/N, let’s talk about this-”

“You’re a bitch.”

Ollie broke away from her. “Come on, love, don’t you think namecalling’s a bit immature.”

“No, Oliver,” You spat, “but this is.” You snatched the cup of tea off her desk and dumped it over his head.

With their voices calling after you, you grabbed your purse and your coat and didn’t look back.

The two men entered the flat, their laughter quickly ceasing when they saw a solemn Annie sitting on the stairs. She stood up, extending her arms.

“What’s this?” George asked, taking off his jacket.

“She said she wants to be alone.”

“Y/N’s here?” Mitchell exclaimed. “She doesn’t get off for two more hours.”

“Don’t you think I noticed that?” She snapped back. “She didn’t tell me why she’s here, she just said she doesn’t want to see anyone.”

“Well, she’ll just have to.” Mitchell pushed past her and went up the stairs before she could stop him.

Mitchell banged on your door, but when there wasn’t a response, he burst in any way. He was surprised to find you sitting on your bed. You seemed calm and collected, surrounded by papers and teacups Annie had left in your room.

“Um… hey?” You said.

“Annie said…” He looked around as if he was trying to see the hurt you were hiding. But you had it tucked up inside you so no one would see. Especially not him.

“Annie said what?”

“What are you doing home?”

“I live here?” You laughed and, thankfully, it didn’t sound too forced.

Mitchell gave you an annoyed look. “Why aren’t you at work?”

“First of all, you’re not my father. Secondly…” You motioned to the mess of help-wanted flyers around you. “I quit.”

He froze. “You what?”

“I quit.”

“What about the promotion?”

“I didn’t get it.” You shrugged. He refused to believe that was it.

He hesitated but had to ask. “What about Ollie?”

Your gaze dropped to the papers in front of you. Your hands shook.

“We broke up.” You lowered your voice to try and keep it from cracking. “Can I get back to these, please?”

“Y/N-”

“Just get out!”

He looked at you for a long while, eyes filled with confusion and concern from your outburst. With a heavy sigh, he left, closing the door behind him. He stood in the hallway, mind reeling from everything you’d just said. Your apparent indifference was unnerving. You always talked to each other about things like this. Why now, did you feel like you had to hide?

“So?” George asked as he came down the stairs.

Mitchell shrugged, a grim expression painting his features.

Annie sighed. “That bad?”

“She doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“Not even to you?” She exclaimed. He shook his head. She stood, wrapping her arms around herself nervously. “Maybe I should make her some tea-”

“Just leave her be for now.” He said. “Besides, her room is filled with mugs as it is.” He looked towards the staircase, still half tempted to storm back into your room and demand you talk to him, but that wouldn't fix anything. If anything, it would likely make matters worse.

George shoved his hands in his pockets and Annie rocked on her heels. Mitchell wanted to break something- preferably Ollie’s neck. Sure, he didn’t know what happened, but he’d be willing to bet it was that weasel’s fault.

“Nina wanted to grab a pint,” George started. “But I can stay in case Y/N’s thing has something to do with, you know… our shared thing.”

“It doesn’t,” Mitchell said. “Go on. We all deserve a night off.”

“Tell Nina hi!” Annie beamed. George gave her an awkward nod and headed out. The remaining roommates exchanged a look of helplessness. Annie shrugged. “If she needs us, she’ll tell us… right?”

Mitchell nodded but looked back at the stairs with longing. If he listened, he thought he could hear you crying.

Almost an hour passed. Annie put on a show on the telly and Mitchell tried to focus on that. Every nerve in his body burned with the urge to go upstairs, but he forced himself to stay still. Until he heard the crash. It was a shattering noise, shortly followed but the sharp, metallic scent of blood. He ran up the stairs and this time, he didn’t knock.

“I’m fine.” You said. You were crouched over a broken mug on the floor. Your hand had gotten cut trying to pick it up, but you were still gathering the sharp pieces.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Mitchell ran to your side, the stench of blood filling his head. He grabbed a discarded t-shirt from the floor and pressed it against the cut.

“I said I’m fine.” You tried to pull away from him and keep picking up the mug. “It’s just a little blood. You shouldn’t be in here.”

“What happened?”

“I just dropped a teacup, but I can fix it.” You ignored the fat drops of blood dripping onto the ceramic pieces. “I can fix this. I can fix everything.”

Mitchell finally swatted the pieces out of your hands, grabbing you by the wrists.

“Y/N, stop it.” He pulled you off the floor and shoved aside the papers on your bed so you’d both have somewhere to sit. You tried to pry away, but his grip was too strong. He sat you down and put a hand under your chin so you would have to look at him. “What the hell is going on?” His expression softened with worry. “Talk to me.”

Your mind cleared away its defenses, leaving behind the images of everything that happened today. Seeing Mitchell’s wide eyes staring back at you was the final breaking point. You fell forward, burying your face in his chest as the sobs escaped your throat. Mitchell wrapped his arms around you without a second thought.

“Everything is falling apart and I don’t know how to fix it. I can always fix everything, but I don’t know what to do.” You cried. Mitchell held you closer.

“It’s not on you to fix everything. Whatever happened will work itself out-”

“Ollie is fucking Terri so he got the promotion.” You blurted through sobs.

Mitchell’s arms tensed around you. “What?” The urge to snap the man’s neck returned with ferocity.

“Ollie got the promotion and when I went to talk to Terri about it, they were practically doing it on her desk. The life I thought I was building… It meant nothing. Everything I’ve done to accomplish some sense of normality amounts to my boyfriend shagging my boss to get the job I worked my ass off for.” You sat up, wiping your face with your sleeve. “I failed.”

“Failed?” Mitchell scoffed, wiping a stray tear away. “Y/N, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I’m supposed to be the one that’s put together, Mitchell. The perfect boyfriend, the perfect job.” You rested your elbows on your knees, covering your face with your hands. “And I know that sounds like I’m judging you and George and Annie, but I’m not. It’s just… I’m supposed to be the one nobody has to worry about. I’m the shoulder you guys can cry on, not the other way around.”

Mitchell didn’t know what to say. All this time, you thought you had to pretend everything was fine for his sake? How many times were you hurting that you didn’t tell him? How many times could he have told you how he really felt so you would know exactly how much you meant to him?

“Y/N I-” He blew out a breath. “I had no idea.”

“I never wanted this to happen.” You finally mustered the strength to look at him again. He gave you a small smile.

“It isn’t your fault. You don’t have to pretend to be perfect anymore. You’re human.” He laughed lightly. “Or at least, our odd version.” The corner of your lips tugged into a smile. He wiped away more of your tears. “You’re just as much of a mess as the rest of us and that’s okay.” Now you laughed. His expression turned serious. “And I love you even more because of it.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. His hazel eyes stared deeply into yours. Your lips parted as if you were going to speak, but nothing came out.

“I know that it’s terrible timing because of Ollie- and believe me I want to strangle him for it- but I can’t let you keep feeling like this without knowing how I feel about you.” He gently took your hands in his. “I love you without your perfect job. I love you without your control. I love you because you’re you.”

Words continued to fail you, forming at the tip of your tongue, but vanishing before you could say them. Instead, you leaned forward, slow and unsure at first but then confidently when you saw him do the same. Your lips touched the same way, gently and hesitant, slowly growing more sure. It was the first thing to feel right in a long time.

When you pulled apart, neither of you said anything. You didn’t have to. You simply cleared off the rest of the papers from the bed and laid in each other's arms. His lips on your forehead were the last thing you remembered before falling asleep, finally able to rest.

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks; @kendahl0216; @yellowbubblewrap

#john mitchell x reader #being human uk #john mitchell

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r0semaryt3a · 6 months ago

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Masterlist

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I finally have a masterlist lol, this will basically cover what/who I will/won’t write for or about + have my req status

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Requests - open

Alt sites:

Ao3

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Tad bit of an introduction before I get into anything:

Evening, you can call me Vincent! I go by they/she and have been writing for a good while (at least as long as I could pick up a pen). My sister’s been using tumblr for a while and after a rocky patch of my life I decided to pick it up myself. With my passion for writing I’d be more than ecstatic to write all sorts of requests!

(I’m currently trudging through an old wip of mine by the title of “wings of an Angel” so all requests will be scheduled around that alongside my actual life)

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Existing works - awaiting content

(Characters present in brackets are character written for)

Phantom Troupe - CLOSED ATM

(Chrollo, Feitan, Phinks, Shalnark, Machi, Pakunoda + Uvogin, Hisoka, Illumi if specified)

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Going on a date

Sleeping in the same bed

Lgbt headcannons

S/O hugging them for the first time

Soulmate au

Pillow fight - pending

The Guild

(Francis Scott.K Fitzgerald, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Mark Twain, Margaret Mitchel, John Steinbeck, H.P Lovecraft, Edgar Allan Poe, Louisa May Alcott, Lucy Maud)

╰┈➤ content pending

SK8 adults

(Cherry Blossom/Kaoru Sakurayashiki, Joe/Kojiro Nanjo, Adam/Ainsouke Shindo, Snake/Tadashi Kikuchi, Kiriko Kamata)

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Lgbt headcannons

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Individual character work

Chrollo

╰┈➤ Vampire Chrollo x Reader - pending

Feitan

╰┈➤ Feitan with a picky eater S/O - pending

Phinks

╰┈➤ content pending

Shalnark

╰┈➤ content pending

Machi

╰┈➤ content pending

Pakunoda

╰┈➤ content pending

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Francis Scott.K Fitzgerald

╰┈➤ content pending

Nathaniel Hawthorne

╰┈➤ content pending

Margaret Mitchell

╰┈➤ content pending

John Steinbeck

╰┈➤ content pending

H.P Lovecraft

╰┈➤ content pending

Mark Twain

╰┈➤ content pending

Edgar Allan Poe

╰┈➤ content pending

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Cherry/Kaoru Sakurayashiki

╰┈➤ content pending

Joe/Kojiro Nanjo

╰┈➤ content pending

Adam/Ainsouke Shindo

╰┈➤ content pending

Snake/Tadashi Kikuchi

╰┈➤ content pending

Kiriko Kamata

╰┈➤ content pending

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Wills/Won’ts

You can pretty much ask for whatever in terms of requests. Most of my currently posted works are headcannons but I’m all for individual oneshots!

I’ll make it clear here that if there are specific characters you want me to prioritise in asks (as I’m not always guaranteed to add them all) please specify in the request!! (+ I’ll make sure to try my best to add a little extra something to their section <3)

Also note that previous point doesn’t apply to SK8 I will always add them all in

Obviously, the usual spiel of offensive or problematic content (ie: child x adult) are absolute no nos but in terms of personal preference? My real won’ts have to be:

Nsfw content - this is for many reasons, the main one being that it makes me uncomfortable

Infidelity/cheating - this is mainly in place for characters like Francis who already canonically have partners but for any romantic requests: no disloyalty should be afoot. (On the note of Francis anytime I write for him will be under the guise that Zelda is A) dead B) doesn’t exist or C) divorced)

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With all that done and said never be afraid to send over a request <3

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bookworm-with-coffee · 2 years ago

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Dancing With Death. . .

(John Mitchell x Reader)

(A/N); Hello-Ello! Welcome to my first Being Human fic! I've watched the first few seasons of this show and I'm delighted to continue watching the third. I love Mitchell's dynamic and character arc, Aidan absolutely smashing the role (as always). Do enjoy!! ❤❤

Plot; When a human is invited to live with the gang, things get rather complicated for one John Mitchell...

Pairings; John Mitchell x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; mature themes, violence, blood, coarse language, angst, eventual tooth-rotting fluff

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When you'd first laid eyes upon death, you thought he was human. You'd hardly expected the gentle kindness in his eyes, but maybe that's something you would come to love about him?

"I'm sorry, you've gone and done what? ", Mitchell gaped.

"Look, before this gets out of hand—", Annie tried.

"It did get out of hand! When you went and did that! ", George shouted, quickly falling to a panic. Every part of him wanted to break down and rip out his hair all at once. "Bringing a human here?? I thought the neighbours were bad, but oh no, you just had to go that one step further and invite one to live with us!! Gods, Annie, do you even think??".

Guilt churned within the ghost's gaze, her eyes drifting to Mitchell. "This house was for us, Annie", he sighed. "A safe haven where we can be ourselves! A human would take that from us!".

"Please", she begged their calm. "I've thought about this!! Rent is going up with the coming of the new lease, making it harder on both of you. Don't try to deny it". Annie raised a finger in warning. "And maybe some part of me wants a bit of human normality around here?".

"Yes, but in case you haven't noticed, a vampire, ghost and werewolf aren't exactly a part of any human normality!", George hissed. "Is nothing sacred? Nothing at all??".

"Absolutely not", Mitchell huffed. "A human living here is out of the question".

"I'm sorry you think that", Annie sighed, beginning to retreat from the room. "Because she's coming tomorrow morning to inspect the spare room". The boys went slack-jawed,

"WHAT?!".

That's how a very normal you came to meet the not-so-normal threesome of Windsor Terrace.

When you'd first stepped foot into the house, you weren't expecting the merry greeting you recieved from Annie. She made the house seem like a home. You'd instantly taken a liking to this boisterous and kind soul when she'd made you tea and toured you around the home. Her flatmates were cautious of you, but friendly nonetheless. They took a fascination in your studies and work, somewhat thrilled to have someone else sharing the rent with them to combat the pesky costs. From the morning you'd spent with the three flatmates, you finally felt you found where you'd belonged and didn't hesitate to sign up for their little condo.

The rest was history, Mitchell and George quickly warming to the idea of having you around. Of course, keeping their secrets had never been more imperative than it was with you living in the house. But, there were ways around it.

You'd spend two to five days of your week studying and at work. Mitchell and George also worked regularly, meaning that the evenings and their few days off were the only times they saw you. On those days off, they'd sometimes opt to go out, as you liked to clean the house anyway.

However, you couldn't ignore the strangeness these flatmates had about them in their mundane lives.

Annie loved your company when you helped around the house, the both of you quickly growing close. But one day, she'd completely disappeared. When you'd ask them, the lads would tell you that sometimes Annie leaves randomly to run errands or work. Unbeknownst to yourself, she'd still be around and seen by the lads. Even when you couldn't see or hear her, she was comforted by your presence whilst you'd dance with loud music and clean. It was a comfort to see some human normality in the house.

On the days she wasn't restricted from your sight, you'd come to notice that Annie never ate. Strangely, she reasoned that she preferred to eat alone and you'd left it at that. Out of not wanting to be rude, you never mentioned her cold hands or embrace. She was so cold to the touch. But, maybe that was just her?? Mitchell was the same, after all.

The raven haired male was almost completely cold to the touch, as if he lacked all warmth. You'd asked playfully one day, recieving, 'Reynaud's Syndrome' as the answer. He claimed it was a disease passed to him by his family. When leaving the house even on warmer days, Mitchell always covered himself in many layers. He always wore sunglasses, even on cloudier days. When you'd brought it up, 'photosensitivity', was the answer. You'd started to become concerned that Mitchell suffered from everything, yet he seemed perfectly fine..

George seemed to be the most normal out of them. Warm to the touch, cautious of others, but polite and kind. He was dating a colleague of his, Nina, who sometimes passed by the house. The two often bounced off of each other, often undecided on where they stood with their relationship. You'd prayed they'd get it together. However, the brunette would take a once-monthly camping trip in the woods to apparently honour the tradition his grandfather had started with him. He'd come back dirty and battered after one night, but not even you had dared to ask your flatmates what he'd be doing. You offered to tag along once, George desperately insisting that it was the only 'alone time' he'd get. You never offered again.

All three flatmates knew they'd fooled you into thinking that this house was normal, but for how long??

Things were growing more complex in the world of the supernatural and you were the only one in the house that couldn't see it. You only saw the rippled reverberations in the water, the conflict and sadness in Mitchell's hazel eyes when he looked upon you.

You'd started to grow close with him as well, sharing in his love for history when he'd spotted you with a book. The conversations and playful debates quickly began, allowing you both to bond even beyond the topics of history. Mitchell was a genius when it came to modern history, as if he'd seen it with his own two eyes. His gaze seemed so old for such a young face and it fascinated you to no end. He struck you as an old soul, especially when he'd started showing you his favourite music and movies as well. All were from the 50's and 60's.

Despite how he'd never truly opened up to you about himself, you felt safe with Mitchell. You didn't care that he was secretive or photosensitive. You truly enjoyed everything his company had to offer. Warm coffee, wicked humour and lazy days binging old movies on the TV, even the occasional walk in the rain. He reeked of comfort, despite being a complete enigma. Yet, for someone so happy and surrounded by company, Mitchell seemed so lonely. And maybe that's what drew you closer to him?

To his own detriment, you were all the vampire could talk about to Annie and George. He was slowly becoming aware of his attraction to you and it was a dangerous game to start playing.

"Just tell (Y/n) how you feel!", George proposed amidst chewing his sandwich. "Things might work out?".

"No problem! It's already hard enough for me as it is to sit by her without tearing out her throat, so I'm sure this'll work out fine!", the Irishman retorted sarcastically with his signature glower. George stiffened.

"Is it really that difficult for you?", Annie's voice was a soft whisper, brows knitted together in concern. Mitchell's hazel hues darted up at the ghost, remorse clouded within them. That was all the answer they both needed.

Animalistic desires often raged through his mind when you sat so dangerously close. He was able to smell the sweet heat of your skin, feel the hot blood rushing beneath it and hear the steady beats of your heart. The predatory side of Mitchell was always devious. Combined with other wants, being near you had become almost intoxicating.

"You deserve to be happy, Mitchell", the werewolf sighed. "You owe it to yourself to at least try?".

"Look, I'm not like you, alright?", he grumbled. "I'm not a monster for one day of the month, I live with this every day. I am a monster 24/7, George. You and I are not the same". Annie pursed her lips, laying her cool hand on Mitchell's shoulder as a form of sympathy. "If (Y/n) and I were—", he started. "And she got hurt or died, I'd never forgive myself. Lauren was proof that I'm not good for her, that I can't be trusted". Tears burned in his gaze. "She deserves someone so much better than me".

"What if she knew?", Annie asked nonchalantly with a shrug. "Would that make it easier??". Mitchell's head shook,

"No, no and no". Heaving a sigh, he slumped in his chair. "She deserves to live a normal life. Unburdened with the knowledge of—", he gestured to himself. "This!".

"Doesn't help that Herrick is trying to stir trouble", George added.

"Don't even start with that", Mitchell dismissed it quickly with a bitter laugh, his brows suddenly furrowing. "Speaking of her, where is (Y/n)?". Hazel orbs danced expectantly between his two flatmates, the werewolf's gaze falling to his wristwatch,

"She texted me earlier. Said that her classes were extended by an hour. I'm sure she's on her way". A chill almost seemed to pass through Mitchell. Something wasn't right. It was nearing 7:00pm, you finished at 6:00pm.

"Where does she take classes??".

"Few blocks down from the hospital? Around central Bristol?", George shrugged. Concern etched its way onto Mitchell's expression, adrenaline coursing through his blood. He shot up from the table, marching over to the door.

"Mitchell!", Annie called to him incredulously. "Where do you think you're off to??".

"I'm going to look for her. It shouldn't take this long".

"Mitchell—".

"Text me if you hear from her or if she comes home!", he called from over his shoulder, pointing at his flatmates before the door closed behind him. Mitchell's senses were buzzing, always more efficient at night. Your scent wouldn't be hard to track if he picked it up.

Bristol was such a peaceful city. Coming away from the bright lights and active streets, you found comfort in the sudden ability to see the stars shimmering above without the interference of the street lamps. The air was cool and crisp, fogging as it left your mouth and nostrils. What usually would've been a peaceful walk home suddenly turned into something entirely different. Pained cries rang out from between a few of the buildings ahead, stilling your breaths. "Help— help me!". You were still quite a way from home or the hospital. Your pace quickened, spying a body between the buildings.

"Hey, I'm here, I'm—". Your heart felt as if it had stopped, feeling a wild wave of nausea vaulting into your throat. The air smelt wet with a stench, blood coating the floor around and on the body. More particularly the neck area. This man had already been dead for some time. If he didn't shout, who did??

"Help me!", a man cried with the same voice you'd heard. "Help me!". Although now, he'd emerged from the darkness. The stranger was perfectly unscathed, his eyes almost predatory as they were set on you. "Honestly, do you lot ever not fall for that one??". A dark chuckle slipped from his lips. Your heartrate quickened, your cooler hands suddenly becoming clammy. "And just like that, it was just all too easy", he mused, nearing you. Your steps backtracked, every instinct you had telling you to flee. You turned, trying to sprint; only to run into another male with the same ravening gaze. He shoved you roughly, your back slamming the wall nearest to you before you fell to the floor by the corpse. A shout escaped your throat, whilst you tried to scramble from it, slipping in the blood only to have the first male grab you by the scruff of your neck. He had a bruising grip that made you cry out. You grunted, clawing at his hand, barely even scraping the skin to your own confusion. "Oh, how I love it when they fight", he giggled through his teeth cruelly. A low growl left your throat, in your attempt to free yourself from his grip.

"They think they actually have a chance", the other laughed. Your foot darted out, kicking your captor's shin. Out of surprise, his grip loosened for that split moment, allowing you to slip from him. The harsh hold he'd had on you left your neck sore, your feet beginning to sprint to the other end of the building. You wasted no time crying or screaming, your heart becoming hopeful at seeing the dim streetlights ahead.

A painful grip suddenly wrenched your arm, swinging you into the wall to your left. Your head was the first to smack the wall, the hit completely disorienting you. Wetness travelled down from your temple, the feeling barely able to register before the iron grip resumed on your jaw and throat. With inhuman strength, you were lifted by one hand and slammed into the wall. Your feet didn't touch the ground, suddenly a few feet from it. In your fight for oxygen, you kicked desperately and held onto the hand that clamped down on you. You spied the first stranger's face beneath you, his tongue clicking in a form of tutting. "That wasn't very nice, Love", he chided, squeezing on your neck, a wheeze barely able to escape. Your head ached, the lump on your face stinging as it secreted more blood. You felt a dizzying pressure building up within you, your lungs growing tighter. "Now look what you've gone and done". His grip seemed effortless, reaching up with his free hand to swipe a finger at your blood before sticking it in his mouth. "So sweet", he hummed to his silent counterpart. 'You sick bastard!', you wanted to roar, barely able to continue struggling. "I enjoyed our little game, Lovely. But, I can't control myself any longer". You whimpered, trying to kick from his grip.

"Finally", the other grinned. Fear pulsated in every ember of your body, your lungs barely able to manage a gasp at what you'd seen next. Whether it was your blood loss, your head having been hit or the lack of oxygen; you didn't know. The strangers' eyes turned to a midnight black, their smiles no longer human. They had the teeth of a carnivorous animal, sharp and glinting in the dim light nearby. You couldn't shout, you couldn't run. It was over.

"Oi!", a yell broke the silence of the alleyway, the grip around your neck loosening to the point where you could rasp,

"RUN—". The squeeze suddenly resumed, your eyes closing.

"Put her down!". You knew that voice, you knew that face. Mitchell. Fear leapt into your throat, your feet kicking desperately, trying to get your dear friend to flee. The raven haired male was completely unintimidated by the two sets of eyes and teeth bared to him.

"Ah, Mitchell", the stranger smiled tauntingly, fully familiar with your flatmate to your greater confusion. "We were about to have dessert. Care to join?". Disgusted with the two males, he stared them down with a glare that could've put fear into your own heart, his face inches from theirs. After only a few moments, they relented, throwing you roughly to the floor by Mitchell's feet. You were winded from the impact, your head recieving another painful hit as well. To your relief, your airways were no longer hindered, gasps and coughs wracking your form.

Mitchell would've knelt by you right then and there if it didn't show vulnerability to his enemies. He needed to make them leave first. "You're such a killjoy, Mitchell, you need to—". The stranger squeaked, suddenly being held up high against the wall, within the same grip he had placed you in. Rage coursed through every fibre of Mitchell's being, his gaze hard like stone when confronting these males.

"Not so nice when it's the other way round, is it, Seth?", the Irishman growled through his teeth. His grip grew harder, Seth's eyes riddled with fear, the way yours had been. Your vision blurred slightly amidst your gasps for air, barely managing to see the way Mitchell's eyes became like death and his teeth pointed. "If you or your friends touch her again, I'll crush the life from your fucking skull!". The other male no longer held confidence within his gaze, eyeing his counterpart and your crumpled form on the floor.

"I'm sorry", Seth was only able to mouth. "I'm sorry". Mitchell allowed him to drop to the floor, holding his aching neck. Surprisingly, Seth didn't gasp for air. Unbeknownst to you, he didn't need it. "Is she special to you or something?", he ground out.

"That's none of your concern", Mitchell replied coldly, his expression seemingly human again. "But, she's untouchable. And you will respect that". Straightening his clothes, Seth eyed you pensively,

"Herrick will be intrigued to know about this, Mitchell. Especially since she knows our secret".

"Run back to him then. Tell him the truth. I want them all to know", he insisted challengingly. Taken aback by this revelation, the two males finally backed off from your flatmate. At last, they'd gone.

Dread suddenly clouded Mitchell's every thought. His form dropped down to yours, still slumped on the concrete. "(Y/n)?", he called softly, so unlike the tone he'd just used with those men. That was the Mitchell you knew. His cool hands held your face, your head wound still bleeding. To his own surprise, the bloodlust never came. There was only concern, care and love. So much love.

His hazel hues searched your neck almost frantically, relief suddenly filling his heart at no puncture wounds. He'd gotten to you in time. The same couldn't be said for the innocent stranger he'd spotted at the other end of the alley. He could do nothing for that person now. You were his priority. "Mitchell", you sobbed, weakly reaching up to hold his hands, hot tears falling freely now.

"I'm here", he whispered, hoisting you up with one arm. His lips pressed a chaste kiss against your forehead, his arms encasing you in a protective embrace. "I'm here".

The vampire had wasted no time, effortlessly carrying you through the streets. It wasn't long before he was finally stumbling through the front doors of your shared home with you in tow. Both the ghost and werewolf ceased their worried pacing to rush to your aid. "It's okay, I've got her".

"What happened?!", Annie cried, her gaze growing tearful at your various injuries. Mitchell shared a look with George, the latter able to understand. Vampires. The same two who had taken it upon themselves to beat up George only two years prior. His voice dropped an octave cautiously,

"Is she??".

"No", Mitchell's head shook, his voice gentle. George exhaled in relief. You weren't a vampire. You were hurt, but you weren't a vampire.

The threesome were now faced with the problem they'd attempted to avoid. You knew. How much, was a different matter.

Mitchell had carried you to the bathroom, sitting you down on the bathtub's edge to tend to your wounds. You weren't concussed. Shaken would've been a better word. Whilst the raven haired male worked gently on cleaning the blood from your face, he filled the tub with steaming water so that you could clean yourself later. Your eyes studied him, the colour of his skin, those lavish curls framing his face. His eyes were kind, even when they resembled the colour of death. He'd protected you.

The cool hands that cradled your face tilted your head back with such gentleness, it brought tears to your eyes. Mitchell was so unlike the monsters you'd seen that evening.

"Thank you", you murmured, whilst he placed a dressing over your lump. His gaze withdrew its focus from your wound, still gentle when it was trained on your eyes.

"It's alright". His words of assurance were hushed, as if speaking normally would scare you. "Just clean yourself up and head to bed. If you're hungry, I'll make you some food".

Although he'd left without saying much else, Mitchell realised that you were in a state of shock. You couldn't hear the whole truth, not until you'd had some time to register everything.

The following days were hard. You were in bedrest, only coming downstairs to silently retrieve food. Your mind reflected on what you'd seen. Those men weren't human. Mitchell knew them. He was like them, but unlike them too. If the concept of Vampires existed, what else did??

Your thoughts were suddenly broken, your protector stepping into the room, carefully closing the door behind him. "Annie and George are out. It's just us". You nodded, Mitchell moving to sit on the end of your bed. The mirror that sat by your window was blank. You should've been shocked, but there was only an understanding. Vampires have no reflection.

Moving out from your covers, you crawled to sit beside the kind male. "Mitchell", you began shakily, him nodding gently to encourage you to continue. "Those men. They weren't human. They were vampires, weren't they?". A smile twitched on his expression. You were too perceptive.

"That's right".

"They knew you", you continued, your brows furrowed in curiosity. "How??".

"I'm old, (Y/n). 116 years old to be exact", he confessed. "When you live for so long, you sometimes get caught up with the wrong people".

"You're nothing like them, though", you breathed, reaching out to trail your fingertips along his cold arm. "You don't— hurt people".

"I try not to". Your brows creased in concern, seeing the shame in his eyes. "I've hurt people before. Lost control. It's hard to live how I do". You nodded. "Does that scare you?". His hazel orbs monitored your expression for fear, unsurity.

"I'm not afraid of you, Mitchell", you whispered, reaching across to place your warmer hand over his chest where his heart rested. If his heart wasn't stiffened, it would have been hammering from anxiety. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips nervously.

"I'm the creature of nightmares, (Y/n)", his voice remained surprisingly steady, his smile growing sadder. "I'm a monster".

"I don't believe that", your words caught him offguard, something unreadable flashing in his gaze when it fell on you again. "Monsters don't save people from other monsters. Monsters aren't kind or selfless. They have no remorse. And they can never be human, like you".

You shuffled closer, Mitchell moving away from your touch. "What are you doing?", his brows furrowed in confusion, growing scared that his inner creature would take its chance. But, you instead answered him in the form of a hug. Your arms clasped around his broad shoulders, allowing him to break from your touch any time he wished. He restrained his senses from breathing your scent, carefully resting his head on your shoulder. His arms wove around your smaller form, bringing himself into a less delicate embrace with you. It was firm and sure.

"I'm trusting you", you answered his question vocally now. Mitchell would have begged that you don't, were it not for the sudden epiphany that came to him. It helped him see differently for once.

Maybe through you, he could learn to trust himself again?

Finally grappling that the household you lived in wasn't normal, you found that you didn't mind. Mitchell had helped you understand everyone in the house, whilst helping them to live unhindered.

"We're home!", George announced, sauntering through the door with Annie in tow.

"Welcome home, Mr Werewolf", you greeted him from the couch where you laid alongside Mitchell.

"Glad to see you up and around again, (Y/n)—", he chuckled, suddenly sputtering, "What??". Your counterpart had a shit-eating grin splayed on his sharp features. "You outed me, Mitchell?? I thought she wasn't supposed to know!", his voice was a harsh whisper.

"She is in the room, George", Annie sighed, moving past him to snuggle up beside you happily. "I'm just glad you're okay. And that I'll never be disappearing from your sight again".

"Me too", you agreed.

"In my defense, she figured out that Seth and his little friend were Vampires. Myself included", the Irishman raised his hands, almost proud that you'd worked it all out. "She suspected Annie might’ve been one. A little hint, and she caught on". George's brows furrowed.

"How'd she figure me out then??".

"You do see the state you're in when you come back home the morning after, don't you?", Mitchell deadpanned. "You're hardly beating up bears by the lake. Werewolf was the only logical explanation".

"Aside from camping?".

"George, nobody goes into the forest for a night to roll on the ground naked".

"Fair point", George conceded with some embarrassment, his eyes darting to you. "And you're fine with all of this?". You nodded,

"Absolutely. Your secrets are safe with me".

The household finally felt free, everyone able to be themselves. You actually enjoyed everything being the furthest thing from normal. Secrets were never hard for you to maintain. You didn't have many friends or classmates outside of the home, your personal circle slimming down to just your roommates.

Nonetheless, they encouraged you to live your life normally and pursue a relationship like George had. One of your classmates had asked you out, the two of you only dating for a month before things turned horribly sour.

You had found out that your date was dating many other bachelorettes. Despite how your feelings weren't overly strong for this man, you felt hurt. As if you were only good enough for a backup plan or affair. Your time had been completely wasted.

The front door of your shared home slammed, your feet quickly leading you up the stairs whilst you ignored three sets of concerned eyes. "Told you that this fella seemed like a cock", George sighed, recieving a sharp elbow from Mitchell and a pointed look of disapproval from Annie. "What?? He was in the end!".

"I'm going to see if she's alright", the vampire huffed, standing from the couch to trail your steps. Your bedroom door was closed, but never locked. Mitchell knocked softly, pressing his forehead against the wood.

"Don't come in, I'm a mess", you sniffled, an amused grin forming on his expression.

"Don't worry, I'm not a roomba", Mitchell joked, conceding that it was a cringeworthy one.

"Mitchell?". Your door creaked open, the Irishman slipping into your room. The door closed behind him, his eyes quickly becoming softer at seeing you so distraught. Wordlessly, he made his way over to where you sat on the floor in front of your bed and slid down beside you. His large arm brought you close against him, now trusting himself more around you to do so.

Mitchell's carnivorous instincts had been present, but dying down slowly, day by day. It was difficult, but he was managing to control himself. "I'm sorry", he apologised for your current situation, wishing there was more that he could do.

"Don't be", you insisted, laughing sadly. "It's not your fault that he was an arse". His smile matched your sadder one, your head coming to rest in the crook of his neck. Mitchell had been envious of this man, but never wished ill on your relationship with him, praying that you could find happiness. Some part of him tore itself up at seeing you like this, but was completely oblivious to your true feelings.

You were in love with Mitchell, not this man you'd dated. You'd tried to pursue happiness with another, not believing yourself to be good for or good enough for Mitchell. It felt hopeless, every part of you screaming for whom you truly yearned for. But, you knew it was too risky, even if he felt the same.

Your head turned, Mitchell attempting to press a comforting chaste kiss to your cheek, repeating what happened once with Annie. His lips had accidentally brushed yours, a jolt running through you both. Your tears had been forgotten, Mitchell's expression lighting up in an amused grin. He laughed softly against your lips, his smile becoming contagious. "Annie did warn me about this— I'm sorry", you giggled, eyes flickering shyly to his own. His lower lip was drawn between his teeth, his gaze fluttering over your features in admiration.

"I'm not", the confession tumbled from him in a hushed breath. Mitchell knew, as well as yourself that you were both giving into something so dangerous. His nose brushed your own as the last of his restraint faded from him. There was no going back now.

"(Y/n), Mitchell", George knocked on the door. "I ordered some pizza for lunch. Come down and get it while it's hot!".

"Coming!", you called back, Mitchell forcing a smile when you looked on him again. "Shall we go?".

"I'm hardly one to say no to pizza", he scoffed, coming to a stand with you. Remaining behind, his hazel gaze followed your retreating form before his eyes closed dejectedly.

What had he done??

_________________________________________

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