#shes not a vampire or anything just a regular person with sharp teeth which is even better and kind of funnier too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hermitcraftheadcanons · 4 years ago

Text

AU Raffle: Cryptid AU!

[COMPLETE]

The result of the random selection was the Cryptid AU! Multiple people suggested this, so I'm looking forward to hearing all the ideas and extensions you guys will come up with. This will be a masterpost collecting them all, and it will be pinned for the duration of the AU.

Original suggestion: "For the Raffle. Cryptid AU. None of the Hermits are truly human and they all are really powerful cryptids that are hiding their true nature. The catch! Every Hermit thinks the other Hermits are totally normal and they are the only cryptid one. Hilarity ensures with everyone trying to explain the extrange things that keep happening "

Some ideas I came up with:

- every Hermit is a cryptid or monster of some kind, except for Grian, who is fully human and completely clueless about everything that's going on (suggested by a previous ask)

- Team ZIT is an investigation group trying to prove the existence of cryptids, but each one of them is subtly trying to sabotage the investigation to hide their own cryptid-ness. None of the three know the other two are also cryptids. Hilarity ensues.

- Xisuma probably knows what's going on with everyone, but he's not saying anything

- Mumbo is doing an absolutely horrible job of hiding that he's a cryptid, but somehow people still don't notice. Iskall is probably the closest to figuring it out.

- VintageBeef has already figured out that Keralis isn't human, but Keralis is bribing him to keep quiet

I hope that's enough to get the ball rolling! Send in your ideas using asks, and I'll put them down here!

If you need ideas about which cryptid would fit best with which Hermit, this list may be helpful.

Anonymous Additions:

- I feel like xisuma should be some kind of shapeshifter

- cleo was brought back to life by a family that loved her very much- or at least, that was what they tried to do. in reality, they brought a completely new soul back in the body of a deceased relative. cleo felt uncomfortable around people who thought she was a different person than she was, so she ran away and eventually befriended the hermits bc she just felt ~drawn to them~. she disguises her bloodless skin and lack of body heat with thick clothes and lots of makeup

- Cleo, of course, is a zombie, but she also has ties to Cthulu that she doesn't really try to hide, but that people overlook all the time. I'm just saying, an avatar of an eldritch being having to be a zombie kinda makes sense...

- Cthulu needed a body, and this kind family was nice enough to supply one! It was kinda their fault really, praying to ancient gods and making deals without reading the fine print. Cleo might feel guilty, but it wasn't on her, not really

- cryptid au: joe isn't a human, but a changeling: a shapeshifting, nonhuman entity that evolved to invade human families like a cuckoo. he has the ability to bend light to make illusions, but he normally just uses his powers to make himself appear human. however he does like to make all lime green things he sees invisible, for the lulz

- What about mumbo being a vampire, it just introduces the idea of so many odd behaviors that the others are just oblivious to

- What if ren is a werewolf(I know it isn't original) and he just thinks of the other hermits as his pack and is therefor very protective of them

- Obligatory Ren is a Werewolf for the Cryptid AU. He is acts like a gigant puppy when he is in wolf form. Nobody questions why sometimes they found a gigant wolf trying to play fetch with them. But nobody is complaining. Everyone talks about it and Ren is just upset because the gigant pupper has never come to see him. Surprise!! Not even Ren knows he is a werewolf

- idk if your still doing cryptid stuff because i don't really know how this works but,, what if everyone thinks that Grian Is Something when he's not. They keep trying to figure it out by asking him weird questions or trying to get him to do weird stuff, but he still stays completely oblivious. And then since Xisuma knows what everyone is, he thinks it's hilarious trying to watch everyone try to find something that isn't there.

- Cryptid au: Doc has made it obvious that he is a cryptid like, he explains it so obviously even an idiot would tell that he's one, But no one has figured out yet. So after the 15th time of explaining things he decides to present how he's a cryptid, by making a goatess.

- For the au, I have 2 ideas for grian, either he is very outspoken about not believing in the super natural, or he very much does believe in the supernatural, either way he unknowingly befriends multiple cryptids and is very confused

- Cryptic AU: Tango has fire for hair, and no ones really questioned as to why?

- What if false was a siren, just because it seems like an interesting idea (my addition: Wels would also make a great siren)

- Stress seems like the type to be an elf, graceful and cheerful, and of course admiring nature's beauty

- What if Impulse was mothman, I like this idea because of the whole team zit being paranormal investigators and they just go looking for mothman on one trip, and Impulse is just standing there probably feeling a bit awkward

- If Impulse is Mothman and he can fly and Tango is like a fire demon that controls fire, is only fair that Zed is an aquatic Cryptid. Maybe related to a lake monster or he is a Sea Serpent

- Yeti Iskall getting used to the hot environment of the Jungle??? Maybe?

- i have no clue how this works but etho is related to ningen in a way (Antarctic sea creatures from Japanese folklore)

- Joe's poems seem to stick in your head, echoing around for hours after you hear them, ringing between your ears. Their subjects vary, but they often seem eerily prophetic, warnings encased in rhythm and rhyme. Sometimes you swear you can hear the soft scritch of a pen on paper, before you realize you are the only one around.

- Wait how the hell would jevin hide that fact he's a slime? Better yet how do the other hermits not put to and to together? Through I think jevin probably wouldn't even bother trying to hide it, I mean he's a huge blob of slime how would you not be able to tell

(my response, summarized) Jevin inhabits a body of slime because that's the easiest way to hide his true form. "Jevin" is a non-physical entity that can possess other lifeforms by destroying their will. He chose a slime this time because it was easy and inconspicuous.)

- Cryptid au: Team ZIT have a headquarters and they all pitched in to commission Etho to make their door bell chime, the ghost busters theme, and afterward interrogated Etho to the ground.

- Doc is not a creeper with cyborneticts. Doc is the AI that came with the cyborneticts and over-wrote the conciousness of the creeper. Figured that making Doc something else would be too dificult so maybe subverting what he is with what we got alredy is enough (like you did with Jevin)

- I am putting this here for vampire mumbo in the au because the thought will not leave my head. It's dark, and mumbo's eyes seem to reflect light very well, his canine teeth seem just a bit too long and sharp, they seem to be stained red,was he always this tall? Something about him seems off, he seems very elegant in this darkness.

- cryptid au: when joe was young, he was ignored so much that he turned invisible. you can still see his shadow but you could look directly at him and not see him there with the best tools. he disguises himself by staying quiet, using text to communicate with the other hermits or by covering himself with clothes and masks so nobody would be able to see his body even if he wasnt invisible.

- For the au I think that Iskall could be a dryad because of his base this season

- Imagine if you will: Tango leaves town for a bit so the team ZIT can't do their "investigations". Impulse gets bored and decided to pretend to kidnap Zedaph in mothman-form. When Tango returns, Zedaph tells him how he almost was kidnapped by Mothman (and is over-exaggerating on every detail)

- What if in the au there is a situation where team zit is in some sort of danger, and so each of them just independently decide that they have to reveal the fact of their cryptid selves, and they just collectivly think,"huh. Okay." And after they are safe, they just talk about it as a group

- Beef is big foot.

- Biffa looks like a robot or cyborg, which one? He won't say. Maybe its because its neither, maybe he's just a walking body with a mind, maybe he's just a suit of armor roaming the world, maybe a spirit or ghost from the past, maybe a mob whose inhabited and pilots the body, maybe he's just Biffa. Only he knows, but he won't say

- Cryptid AU: I’m just imagining zedaph or tango throwing a bell at grian in an attempt to “capture” him under the suspicion that he’s part fae or something at a server meeting

- About Cryptid!Wels, sometimes, when the night is dark and the world is silent, you'll hear it; a soft voice in the darkness. You can't help but listen to it as you get lost in the song, swaying to the melody as your foot moves to the beat. The song gets louder and your feet are more frantic as they seem to take you somewhere. Suddenly, the voice stops singing and so you stop moving, and when you open your eyes you find yourself on the edge of the cliff overlooking the ocean. The siren lurks near

- Doc isnt a Creeper with cybrog parts but a robot made to look like a creeper, that arm and eye? yea just exposed parts from years of just not caring enough. He's waiting to see when someone will call him out on it. So far, only TFC and X but they like to watch how long this will go. Doc isnt even hiding anymore, he loves to mess with Grian by making remarks that imply he's a robot but Grian just can't figure it out

- tbh I love the idea of Joe as a regular human who just acts super cryptic and strange, and has a bit of skill at poetry. others try and figure out what he is, and he's just vibing in a corner, the last one anyone would expect to be the sole normal person on the server

- Cryptid AU. Joe and Cleo as the ‘One Bagel. No!! Two bagels!’ Vine. Joe being the one that asked and Cleo ignoring Cthulhu

- Joe starts sharing different ideas of what he could be, and only Cleo knows (mostly... she's the closest at least). Joe's mystery is a Hermitcraft classic, greeting every hermit except X, who still only has what Joe's told him to go on. He delights in the chaos he causes

- Scar is a poltergeist, he hides it well. One time Grian caught him using his powers, after scar fessed up, in private, they both bring some amount of chaos to the server, but not to much so the ZIT crypt hunters, name in progress, don't know about the chaos, thus not puting the duo in danger.

- Mumbo might be a vampire, but it isn’t for blood (at least, not anymore). Only Grian has come close to figuring it out, and it’s due to seeing how refreshed and satisfied his friend looks after being around 2+ groups of people. If only he would just straight up and ask. - 🦊

- Rather last minute but do you have any ideas of how Evil Xisuma could fit into this? Would he be a shapeshifter as well. A copy of X's true form? A demon haunting Xisuma? Just X's pesky brother? There's a handful of ideas I can't personally decide what would fit best. Maybe none of them at all, who know?

Cryptid Au. Xisuma shapeshifts for fun. Thats how we get Turtle!Xisuma, Beesuma and Stridersuma. All hermits just assume X changes his suit because they have never seen his face so there is no way for them to know he shifts. Also clasic headcanon that TFC is Herobrine and he is just laying low in Hermitcraft after years of going around worlds. Everyone knows the legend about Herobrine but have not connected the dots yet because TFC is just everyone’s grandpa. No way he could be Herobrine.

- @/ivi-prism

- While most might assume that Grian would be a harpy, its actully Scar. He's incredibly flexable in Human form, hes able to manuver his foot behind his head, and moret than once has Cub walked in on Scar with a living fish in his mouth. He never questioned it because "Hey, Vex magics weird."

- Imagine- sytyr Zedaph and Fae Impulse walking in on Willowwisp Tango who,because willowwisps are typically tiny, shrunk in response to panic and is now stuck in a caldron. I think that be hilarious. Just the idea of impulse going-"YOUR A CRYPTID?" while Zed just "WAIT I KNEW I DIDNT BURN THOSE PAPERS!" Which leads into a discussion of ZIT internal sabotage, and suddenly ZIT invesigation changes direction from "Are cryptids real" to "Is anyone else a Cryptid cause this cannot be a Coincidence"

- @/crypticalwitch

- Cryptic AU: Tango can also control his hair, to an extent. He can slick it back, but it still looks like burning embers. It's a bit mesmerizing

- Cryptid AU: Cub was a normal guy, maybe with some weirder interests, before the Vex. "Playing" with their magic too much is what made him a cryptid. So maybe he understands that the other hermits aren't exactly "human". But it isn't his business, and it means they don't question what the Vex get him into, so he just doesn't say anything about it

- Cryptic AU: Team ZIT's strongest evidence for Grian is the fact he's a master with an elytra, especially since he first said he "might use it a little bit" for long journeys. He's flown into a dark hole in a dark wall that's barely big enough to fit him multiple times, with ease, among other risky stunts that would get other hermits killed. The fact there's not much else to go on, besides his pranking zeal only matched by Zed himself, drives them up the wall

- Cryptic AU: when you stay out too long at night, you might start to feel watched. You'll turn around and nobody is there, but still you feel eyes on your back, and the breeze always seems hot and brushes your neck like too-close breathing and a hand. Finally, you catch it: a familiar figure that stands too stiffly, always just too far away to name. Then it vanishes with an airy shriek, and phantoms descend from the stars. Bdubs did always say the worst things happen in the night.

- Cryptic AU: Impulse's smiles are just a little too big. If you look at one too long, you feel as though it's stretching wider and wider, the cheery shine in his eyes twisting into a hungry gleam, but then you blink and he's back to normal ol Impulse and you question if you really saw anything. That time you saw his smile glinting in the darkness just beyond your bed must've been a nightmare. Your imagination.

- Cryptic AU: Don't look into his eyes. Look in, and you will see the universes. Billions of stars, trillions of futures, all impossibly swirling together, hauntingly beautiful. You'll fall down, down, down through the glittering spirals, until with a breathtaking snap you're on your knees, on solid ground. You're lucky he doesn't want to keep you, like others might. The lives and worlds you glimpsed will echo through your mind, weave through your dreams. Do not fear. Do not look into his eyes.

- The mountain is his territory. If you enter it unbidden, he will ensure you leave, lucky to keep your life. His contraptions are nonsense, seeming to serve no purpose other than to confuse. They distract from how the air crackles on your skin, how it tastes of storms and thunder. They distract how, from the corner of your eye, Zedaph's limbs are too long, fingers with too many knuckles and legs with too many knees. All angles and bones, like his designs. Do not look too closely at his garden.

- Everyone learned not to ask about him. Mostly because in trying to form the question, you'll find the words slipping from your mind. So Tango's hair burns, his eyes are red cherries. In the darkness he glows, the embers of a forgotten fire. His skin is always hot, almost feverish, yet he isnt sick. If he gets too close to lava, the illusion fades, reveals the magma that forms his skin. Illusion? No, that was just a burn. He relishes the smoke and rubble of explosions. Control. Always controlled.

- xB doesn't mind being away from the other hermits. It's quiet there; far enough away that most aren't bothered to prank him. He doesn't like surprises. Surprises get people hurt. Gets his friends hurt. His guardians appreciate the still predictability. The calm. Yes, he prefers to sit back, quiet, and watch. If he looks too long, bad things happen. So he observes it all, never focusing too much on one detail, never letting them go unseen. It prevents surprises.

- Because that last one wasn't all that clear, xB is a guardian-based cryptid! While nothing seems inhuman about him at a glance, he has a close affinity to water, and when threatened the spines he hides with his clothes will stick out. (Guardians only spawn in water, but they actually don't suffocate in air! Though their desperate flopping is a sad sight to behold) Plus, laser-eyes

- Xisuma wasn't always able to change his form as easily or drastically as he can now. But by now, he's forgotten his own face. Now, he'll feel his skin, his body begin to itch with the need to change. He's glad the hermits don't seem to care when he does. Keralis's mimicry was a surprise, but a welcome one. He feels less alone. Loneliness is how he would lose himself. He's scared of that possibility.

- When he sleeps, he walks through the minds of those whose eyes met his, as if it were his own dream. He'll hear their thoughts as if they were his own. He doesn't like this. It feels like an invasion. He feels like a parasite, and maybe he is. Whoever he dreamed through last, they seem exhausted and jumpy after, while he feels energized, near invincible. It's through this ability he knows their deepest secrets, but they aren't his to tell. Sometimes, he wishes he could understand. (Xisuma pt 2)

- Cryptid AU: another reason that Grian cant possibly be a human is his clothes. Just. How does he have something for every occasion. He even has a janitor one? Why did he have that? This "man" doesn't own a single closet yet has at least 20 different costumes-- not to mention you blink and he's changed! Wh- he had a REAPER costume for himself AND SCAR???

- @/basaltdragon

- Cryptid AU: Grian used to be against cryptids because of Sam (YHS) and his bunny attributes, but has since accepted the fact Sam was just a bad apple, and cryptids as a whole are neutral/good.

- Your heart, it beats, like redstone ticking away within you. He knows redstone through and through... so why not you too? Every pulse sent though the machine of your body is one more reason for him to reverse engineer you. But he restrains, takes a step back, as these machines could never be put back together.

- He's been here since the beginning; not of Hermitcraft, but everything. Watching as the game evolved over the years... He smiles at the thought. His hair now matching his eyes - like harsh reflective snow - he recalls these memories fondly. As his eyes fade to their piercing blue, he sighs, for this is home.

- When any of the other Hermits (at least the ones with blood) get injured, Mumbo has to step away. The need for their blood, their lifeforce, is too overwhelming.

- @/12u3ie

- Cryptid AU: with the team ZIT headquarters I thought of something similar to the TEA headquarters from season 3. Probably more confusing, colourful and chock full of even more excessive redstone doors. Why not add another elevator? Where's the coffee machine? Maybe the next room over? Was that corridor there before? I don't know. What's the use of that room? What's behind that door? What's behind you?

- Cryptid AU: with the whole burning hair thing on Tango, another explanation for why no one questions it. That's just Hermitcraft, people just assume he either royally messed up a redstone machine, or succeeded completely, you never know with Tango. Or maybe they think they're sleep deprived. They haven't slept in a while, Bdubs has been reminding them to do so. What were they doing? Maybe they should go home instead. Whatever they were doing can probably be done later. What were they doing?

- @/the-royal-bat-snake

- If joe is a changing then he is some kind of fae folk or as the irish and the Scots call them "the good neighbours" he could like anything, from a human, a small man, like knee height or a small green impish or goblin esque creature. Also changlings were the very old fae folk, not just the babies (humma women were stolen to be nurse maids cus fae folk cant make milk, also stolen to be mistresses) I know a lot of irish faerie lore so if you want to know anymore

- @/whatschooldoesntteachyou

#hcraft #hermitcraftheadcanons #hermitcraft #hermitblr #mod shade #au raffle #cryptid au #hermitcraft server

131 notes · View notes

mostlycompetentwriter · 5 years ago

Text

Side Effects- Part 3 (Final)

M/F Pairing: Y/N x Stray Kids

Genre: Yandere Stray Kids AU, Vampire AU, Fantasy AU

Warnings: graphic depictions of blood and gore, violence, smut, dubious consent, and language

Word Count: 5K

Previous Parts: Part One, Part Two

Summary: Y/N has the opportunity to finally end her relationship with the eight young men who changed her life. With the police on her side, Y/N is prepared to do anything to help their investigation into the Miroh Coven, especially since they’re tied to several missing person cases. However, returning to the coven is nothing short of condemning because Chan, Jisung, and Changbin are more determined than ever to make Y/N a permanent member.

Tag List: @softxminghao, @darjeli, @seungminshakur, @rubylove-21, @squirracha, @athosthehaunted, @lixiesbreadstick, @tapikachu, @unghchangkyun, @whereitgetsyou, @ashbash9909, @tropicalwrites, @mikailo666

I wasn’t able to properly tag these users: peachbess and lovesfaith (sad face)

What have they done? I questioned immediately when I realized that I was back in my regular bedroom the following morning. The normality of the situation should’ve been impossible because I was certain that Chan, Jisung, and Changbin had inexplicably decided to hold me hostage after finding me at that stupid club. “Remember? We can be together forever.”

However, no matter how much I tried to make sense of the preceding night’s events, I couldn’t understand why they would allow me to leave after making such promises to turn me. I don’t recall escaping, especially considering my weakened condition, which meant that the three men had brought me back to my apartment on their own accord. I mean, was this just another attempt to mess with me?

I glanced over at my nightstand, discovering a faded envelope sitting on top of my cell phone. I decided to check my messages first, relieved when I saw my roommate’s contact name. She had apparently spent the night with someone she met at the bar, but she assured me that she was safe and would be home later after work. I was glad that she was fairing better than her roommate, and I turned my attention to the envelope. The handwriting on the front was familiar, and I gently tore through the sealed contents. Inside was a folded letter, and my hands were shaking when I smoothed out the paper to comprehend the brief message written in perfect cursive:

Y/N,

Although our reunion was postponed, please accept this invitation on behalf of the Miroh Coven for your company tonight at 8:00 pm sharp.

Sincerely,

Bang Chan

What did he mean by postponing our reunion?

Unfortunately, I had no time to try and figure it out because the buzzing sound of our doorbell abruptly pulled me out of bed, and I wordlessly tucked the envelope inside my pocket. My roommate and I never received visitors, and there was a small part of me that feared for the possibility that one of the Miroh Coven members was waiting outside in the hallway. Yet, when I searched through the door viewer, I realized that a uniformed police officer was carefully sorting through a file of paperwork in her hands.

“Hello?” I asked cautiously, opening the door just enough to acknowledge the unfamiliar woman.

“Y/N?” the officer questioned.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“My name is Officer Smith. I have a few questions for you concerning your previous employer,” the officer said and I was left shaking from head to toe as I allowed her to come inside.

“Do you have somewhere we could sit down?” she asked, and I nodded curtly before leading us both in the kitchen.

“Coffee?” I asked, crowding around the machine in the kitchen.

“That would be nice.”

We were both silent while I served the warm beverage, holding my mug tightly between my hands. “Do you want any creamer?”

“I’m fine,” the officer said. “I just want you to be comfortable. There’s some very troubling things I want to talk to you about.”

“I see,” I nodded, looking intently at the file she had brought with her.

“We’re in the middle of an investigation,” she continued. “It concerns the Miroh Coven. According to our records, you were previously employed with them as a blood donor.”

“Yes, but I was forced to leave.”

“Oh?”

“We had a disagreement.”

“Well, I want you to know that they’re in a lot of trouble,” the officer explained. “We found the body of a young woman on the side of the highway completely drained of blood. When we ran her license, we discovered that she had been employed by the Miroh Coven as a blood donor during the past few months. However, when we asked the Coven about her employment, they told us a very similar story about...a disagreement.”

I shivered despite the heat from the liquid trailing down my throat. “I just...I had a lot of trouble with balancing my college lectures with their schedule. It was very demanding.”

“Of course,” the officer said, but she still wore a look of suspicion. “Normally, we might be inclined to attribute these kinds of things to a rogue attack, but there’s just too many factors that coincide with this case.”

“Like what?”

“For starters, we’ve been unable to contact their previous employees, with the exception of yourself,” the officer explained. “It seems like the Miroh Coven has a history of making their employees disappear without a trace, and I find it very problematic that the young lady we found yesterday had clearly suffered at the hands of a vampire.”

“How many other employees have they had?”

“Quite a few,” the officer said. “I think there’s something bigger going on, and I really need for you to be honest with me, Y/N, because you might be able to help us stop them.”

I swallowed hard. “You think they killed those other donors.”

“It’s very likely,” she said. “Can you tell me anything else about your resignation?”

I found it impossible to make eye contact with the officer, especially when I could still remember everything that had happened the night I left the Miroh Coven. My intention had always been to forget about those terrible circumstances because I was determined to move forward with my life, but all those other ill-fated donors suddenly made it very difficult to remain silent. “They were always nice to me,” I said. “We had a reasonable arrangement because they paid for my schooling and even let me live with them to assuage the cost of on-campus housing. It helped me finish school, but it was always meant to be a temporary arrangement.”

“I understand,” she nodded. “Did they know you were planning to leave?”

“No, but they were keeping secrets from me too,” I said. “A lot of strange things happened when I was living at the mansion.”

“Like?”

“One night, I found a pair of bodies in the basement, but Jisung told me that they were donated...” I trailed off with a choked whimper. “They were also planning to turn me into one of them.”

“Did they tell you this?”

“I guess I didn’t have the right to know,” I said. “I escaped that night and drove myself to the hospital. After that, I moved back here and tried to forget about everything that happened.”

“I understand that it was traumatic for you,” the officer said. “I’m sorry you had to bring it up again.”

I shook my head. “If they’re hurting other people, then I don’t mind the pain.”

The officer sighed, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “Have they tried to contact you since then?”

“Yeah,” I sniffled, reaching into my pocket to retrieve the folded letter. “They actually found me at a bar the other night, but they let me go for some reason. I found this letter on my nightstand.”

The officer read over the simple message and frowned. “Were you planning on meeting them tonight?”

“I don’t want to see them ever again.”

“Interesting,” the officer said. “It seems like they really like you.”

“They always told me that,” I said, remembering their whispered words of affection while sharp teeth penetrated my skin.

“I’m going to be completely transparent with you, Y/N,” the officer said. “My station is leading an investigation into the Miroh Coven, but we still need a lot of evidence to bring a case to the court of law.”

“You can have the letter,” I suggested, but she shook her head.

“It needs to be more concrete,” she said. “I need something that condemns them for the previous disappearances of those other blood donors.”

“Maybe a record or something?”

“I wish we had one,” the officer sighed. “We know those donors were employed by the Coven, but there’s no evidence of what happened to them or why they were dismissed.”

“Chan, Jisung, and Changbin own their own company,” I said. “There might be something in one of those buildings?”

“I doubt they’d be careless,” the officer said. “Actually, I’d imagine that the three of them would keep those things close, and there’s probably very few people who they trust inside the mansion.”

I could feel my entire body trembling at her knowing look. “Actually, Y/N, it seems like they trust you.”

“You want me to go to that dinner tonight with them,” I whispered, completely missing her next words because my heart was beating too loudly, drowning out the other noises around the apartment. It felt like I was falling back into a dark place, and I was desperate to find the light again.

Officer Smith suddenly reached out, fingers cold against my arm, and she effectively pulled me back into the conversation. “I know it’s a lot to ask from you, Y/N, but the answers are inside that house! Whatever you might find could bring justice to the people they’ve taken advantage of over the years.”

It was easy for her to tell me to return to the Coven when she desperately needed my help, but why did it have to be my responsibility to return to a place where I had once escaped tragedy? Nevertheless, I could feel the weight of her gaze, imploring me to undertake such a terrifying mission, and I wondered whether or not I could still protect myself when so many other people were depending on me? “Okay,” I finally said. “I’ll do it.”

The Miroh Mansion was still dark and foreboding, reminding me of the very first time I walked through the front door for my interview with Chan. It was a pivotal moment in my life, but one whose consequences I never understood until I drove to a hospital with blood pouring from a wound meant to serve as the last reminder of my mortality. I had nightmares about the Coven kidnapping me and forcing me to return, but I could’ve never imagined that I would come back here of my own decision.

I slowly knocked on the front door, swallowing down my fear because I couldn’t afford for the Coven to think anything was wrong. “Act as if we had never gotten involved,” the police had instructed me.

“I’ll try,” I had promised, and I intended to do whatever was possible to help the innocent. However, I wouldn’t go as far as risking my life to expose these horrible vampires, even if dozens of missing donors were counting on me for justice.

“Y/N,” Chan greeted smoothly when he met me outside on the porch, dark eyes swallowing me into their endless depths. “I’m glad you saw things our way.”

He invited me inside, and I anxiously made my way across the familiar carpeted hallway leading into the living room. I wasn’t surprised to see the other Coven members waiting, but it still didn’t stop my heart from leaping into my throat when I realized that I could very well die tonight if I wasn’t careful. “My dearest Y/N kindly accepted our invitation,” Jisung remarked, gliding across the floor with an impossible speed. I could smell blood on his lips as he wrapped an arm around my waist, escorting me to the lovely sectional where Minho was watching me through lidded eyes.

“You look beautiful,” Changbin contributed, holding a glass of red liquid daintily between his fingers. Felix and Hyunjin sat next to him, looking at me with barely constrained hunger. “You’re just in time for drinks.”

I stiffened instinctively under Jisung’s hold because I remembered the last time I had been offered to drink with them. “It’s just wine,” Minho smirked, holding out a glass for me to take.

I accepted it cautiously, tasting at the rim only to discover a grape-flavored taste that certainly didn’t remind me of blood. Still, I declined to drink further, holding my glass while Chan started a conversation about their business, eliminating the initial silence that had occupied the room upon my arrival. Seungmin and Jeongin happily listened, focused on their sire with an attentiveness that reminded me of my previous stay with the Miroh Coven when I had once been ignorant of their bond. “Dinner should be ready soon,” Chan reassured me and I could only nod in response.

“Do you mind if I use the restroom?” I asked, and Jisung reluctantly let me go while eight pairs of eyes watched me all the way up the staircase.

I took a deep breath, waiting until Chan started talking again before disappearing around the corner into the room I knew he maintained as an office. I immediately started for his desk, pulling out well-organized files and the notebooks full of his writings. Every so often, I glanced up at the clock hanging above the doorway because I knew that I could probably only manage twenty minutes unsupervised before someone came looking for me.

“Please,” I sighed, reading over a promising file tentatively titled extraneous paperwork. “Holy shit!”

Pictures.

Dozens of them.

They were incriminating, various bodies splayed at unattractive angles. Close-up shots of mangled corpses drenched in blood with empty eyes staring straight at the camera. I flipped them over and gasped, reading the names that sounded way too familiar to merely be a coincidence. “This is it,” I said, almost giddy with excitement despite the uncomfortable nausea twisting my stomach at the sight of these poor donors who had managed to fall victim to the merciless Coven.

I shuffled them together, restoring Chan’s office to its previous organization, before tucking the pictures inside the pocket of my jacket. I was more than ready to return downstairs, when I suddenly remembered a faint recollection of the little notebook I had once discovered in Jisung’s bedroom. It wasn’t that much further down the hallway, and I quickly jerked open the drawer of his nightstand, shoulders deflating in relief when I saw the tiny book waiting on top of his other belongings.

I gripped it tightly when I eventually retreated, resting my head against the door to his bedroom quietly because this was causing me more stress than I could handle. “Y/N?”

I immediately turned around, eyes widening in shock when I realized that Chan was waiting for me. I swallowed hard as I held my ground, keeping the journal behind me. “Did you need something, Chan?”

He didn’t respond right away, and I could feel myself growing smaller and smaller with every long second passing between us. Finally, Chan took a step in my direction. “You’ve been gone a while.”

I shifted anxiously. “I- I just remembered something in Jisung’s room. We used to look at it together when I lived here.”

Chan nodded, and I was relieved that he accepted my explanation. “We all missed you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I missed you too.”

He closed his eyes, cherishing the lie that somehow sounded much more believable than it did inside my head. “Can you show me?”

“What?”

“In Jisung’s room,” Chan said. “What did he show you?”

I trembled as I leaned against the door. “I’m not sure if it was something he wanted to share.”

“I see,” Chan murmured. “It’s interesting because there’s something that I want to show you too.”

Chan walked away without another word, and I assumed that he wanted me to follow him. I ignored every instinct that was screaming for me to escape with my evidence because I wouldn’t make it the bottom of the staircase before a Coven member would prevent that from happening. Instead, I took slow steps on unsteady legs into Chan’s bedroom. I was inherently curious, but when he gently backed me against the wall, I understood perfectly well what he wanted.

His fingers were undoing the buttons on my shirt and I carefully shrugged off my jacket before he could find and apprehend the valuable photographs inside my pockets. I also made sure Jisung’s journal was hidden beneath the fabric before I allowed Chan to take me to his bed. The oldest vampire made no secret of his desires, tossing aside his shirt before tugging the fabric of my jeans down my legs. “Y/N,” he sighed, fingering the edges of my panties while his sharpened canines drew lines along my collarbones. My body reacted on instinct because it was impossible to resist Chan when he was looking at me like I was the answer to all of his problems. Despite everything he had done to me, I still responded to his touches and the taste of his skin on my lips. Instead of pushing him away, I held him close, occasionally glancing at my jacket waiting next to the door with the incriminating evidence necessary to end the Coven forever.

“Oh, Y/N,” he moaned. “I missed you.”

Maybe that was part of the reason why I didn’t resist because I knew that he would never bother me again once the police had their prosecution trial. It was an intoxicating sensation since I was the one with all the power and he was completely clueless to my intentions. He had no idea that I came back to spite the Coven instead of joining them like they wanted.

I watched him roll on a condom, erection prominent as he pushed slowly between my legs. I felt incredibly full, studying the pleasure on his face when he started to thrust inside of me. I looked at him the entire time with eyes wide open because I knew something that he didn’t and, while he was pleasuring me with his precious members waiting downstairs, I was taking back all that time spent in this mansion, knowing that they were more dangerous than anything I had ever encountered before.

His cock moved faster, and I reacted by spreading my legs wider for him, opening myself up to Chan’s advances. It didn’t take him long to come, and I finally closed my eyes when I felt his warm release through the thin latex of the condom. His kisses were familiar, but they also made me want to laugh because I was planning on betraying the people who claimed to love me, the vampires who actually did love me in their own messed up way.

“I love you,” he eventually said, but I didn’t respond, choosing instead to count the tiles on the ceiling overhead.

“Photos, names, addresses, detailed journal accounts...Y/N, you managed to find everything! We can cross-reference this stuff with the files and paperwork we already have.”

I smiled despite the circumstances, watching as two younger detectives sorted the files and pictures before retreating from the tiny interrogation room. “It wasn’t exactly easy for me.”

“Still, this is brilliant, Y/N,” Officer Smith exclaimed, and I felt satisfied knowing that I had done a good job. “We have enough evidence to start the raid.”

“Raid?”

She nodded. “You should know that Vampire raids are extremely rare, but I don’t think your Coven will surrender when we issue the warrant.”

I wrinkled my nose at the suggestion that I could ever belong to the Miroh Coven. “Is it safe?”

“It’s a commonplace occurrence and we’ve all received special training,” she said. “Hopefully, they’ll come to their senses and agree to a trial, but it won’t take much for a judge to officially convict them.”

“Will I have to be at the trial?” I asked, dreading the idea before it could even become official.

“I wouldn’t force you,” she replied. “A testimony would be critical, but this is enough to put them away for the rest of their immortal lives.”

I couldn’t imagine the dreaded reality of such a punishment. “What if they escape? They might try and track me down.”

“Witness protection,” she suggested. “We’ll accommodate you to the best of our abilities.”

“I understand the concept,” I said. “But they’ve found me before despite everything I did to hide.”

“Well, we can work out the details later,” she said. “For now, we need to prepare for the raid. We’ll start by sending in the evidence to the court to get our warrant for their immediate arrest.”

“Is it something that will happen soon?”

“I might have a way to expedite the process,” she grinned. “We’ve been on this case for long enough, bothering the courts for documents and employee records.”

I nodded slowly. “So everything is done?”

“For the most part,” she agreed. “We can commence stage two of our operation.”

“Thank god,” I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “I’m glad that it’s over.”

“Yes,” the officer said, but there was a reluctance in her tone that sent me immediately on edge. “Of course, we can always use your help with one last thing.”

“What could I do at this point? I’m not exactly trained for this sort of thing.”

“Yes, but we wouldn’t want the Coven to suspect anything,” she said. “They might try to leave before our warrant is formally issued. Until then, I think a distraction might hold their attention.”

“Me,” I intoned, narrowing my eyes because I wanted nothing more to do with those nasty vampires.

“We wouldn’t want them to suspect anything,” she said. “If you go back to the Coven, then they might lower their guard.”

“It was supposed to end,” I reminded her. “You said that I was finished with them.”

“I know we’re asking a lot of you,” Officer Smith said. “But this will be the last time you ever have to see them again.”

“You keep saying that,” I muttered, but we both knew that I was in too deep, which meant that I had no choice but to return to the mansion.

Felix greeted me at the door with his familiar smirk, escorting me inside to the bottom of the staircase. Today meant the official end of the Coven, but they were all completely ignorant to their impending punishment. “They want to discuss something with you,” Felix said, and I understood immediately who he was referring to despite the unnecessary pronoun game.

Still, I knew that I couldn’t keep them waiting, pausing outside of Chan’s office door before I heard someone invite me inside. I took a deep breath, opening the door to discover the three leaders waiting for me expectantly while wearing similar expressions of dark foreboding. “Y/N,” Chan said. “Have a seat.”

I obeyed instantly, looking at the Miroh Coven leader as he watched me with an unnerving attentiveness. “What’s going on? I asked.

“I think we have something serious to discuss,” Chan said and my heart was practically beating out of my chest as I studied Jisung and Changbin from the corner of my eye. They knew, I repeated to myself over and over again as I imagined a dozen different scenarios that all ended with my lifeless body thrown into some kind of river because they had discovered my treason.

“You came back,” Jisung finally said. “We weren’t expecting you to accept our invitation.”

“I was being polite,” I said, rubbing my hands along the seam line of my jeans.

“Yes, but we’re all here,” Changbin said. “We can be together.”

I shivered at his words. “We love you, Y/N,” Chan said. “The eight of us would like nothing more than to keep you with us forever.

“To turn me,” I confirmed, and he nodded his head.

“We’ll make it special,” Jisung said, patting his lap and I reluctantly joined him.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight,” Changbin confirmed, swiping his tongue across his sharp teeth. “But we are hungry.”

“And you’re such a sweet girl,” Jisung added, holding me on his lap as his teeth brushed across my carotid artery.

I held my breath because he was close to biting, but then...

“Chan! The police are outside and have a warrant to investigate the property!”

Jeongin’s face was a mess of tears which, at one time, might’ve forced me to reconsider everything that I had done, but not anymore. “What?” Chan growled, before glaring at me. “You stay here,” Chan said, and Jisung snarled in frustration as he released me before following Changbin and Chan downstairs.

For a moment, I could only focus on breathing because I had narrowly escaped Jisung’s bite and now the Coven knew that they were about to receive an unanticipated raid from the police. I swallowed hard, falling down into the floor as a piercing scream shattered the previous silence that left me shaking like a leaf inside of Chan’s office. There were suddenly loud growls and vicious noises penetrating the closed door and I buried my head between my legs and tried to calm down my racing heart.

I could hear the familiar sounds of glass breaking, of inhuman screams and yells breaking the barrier of the office. The voices of the vampires I had once known yelling out insults and curses, the destructive noises of gunshots and human-like cries for help as teeth tore through skin. It was apparent that the Miroh Coven was not backing down from this fight, and I could only pray that my officer had been right in her assurances that they could handle the Coven.

It seemed like hours had passed before I finally removed my hands from my ears, realizing that the screaming from downstairs had suddenly stopped. I waited for several moments, hearing nothing but my heartbeat in my ears and the gentle sounds of the river outside. Eventually, I managed to stand on unsteady legs, holding myself up against the wall as I started to make my way downstairs.

The smells that assaulted my senses should’ve told me everything, but I still released a piercing scream when I collapsed at the bottom of the staircase.

It was a terrifying sight, nothing but blood and crooked bodies spread throughout the room. I recognized most of the Coven, bile rising in my throat when I made contact with Changbin’s lifeless eyes. I carefully took a step back because I knew that this wasn’t supposed to happen, but an unexpected pressure around my ankle tore another scream from my throat and I fell down onto the floor.

“Y/N,” Chan croaked and I shivered when he moved over me, blood seeping through his shirt, but his eyes were still perfectly focused. “I have nothing now, Y/N,” Chan gasped, gripping tightly to my chin and forcing me to look into the empty eyes of Han Jisung.

He pulled me closer, exposing his sharpened teeth and I could do nothing to stop him. This was it, I thought to myself, the moment I had been running from since that tragic night eight months ago. Because Chan was unrelenting, drinking with long, painful bites that sent a searing pain down my spine as my body fought against the significant blood loss. Everything was cold and I wondered if death always felt this unpleasant.

However, the sudden reverberation of a loud snarl forced me to reconsider the darkening spots in my vision, searching behind me when I realized the brutal aspect of Chan’s bite had suddenly subsided. I felt my mouth drop open in horror, but the feeling quickly disappeared when I realized Officer Smith had speared Chan straight through the heart with a silver stake. The impact was immediate and Chan’s body dropped to the floor unceremoniously, leaving me with only a pair of red eyes gazing unblinkingly from the beyond. Meanwhile, Officer Smith offered me a kind smile that seemed out of place considering the blood staining the front of her uniform. “You deserve a better life, Y/N,” she whispered before her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she collapsed next to Chan.

It took me a moment to regain my bearings, looking around at the surrounding carnage. There was blood everywhere, bodies lying in deep puddles and contorted awkwardly from their injuries. It was a startling realization because they were all gone, both vampires and humans. There was nothing left from their vicious fight.

I was also incredibly tired and I closed my eyes despite my situation. Everything felt heavy, and I just wanted to forget the entire night before I had to comprehend the unfortunate tragedy of the Miroh Coven. I thought I deserved it considering the heavy loss weighing over my heart.

After a while, I became aware of a piercing light burning from somewhere in the distance. I gradually opened my eyes because the morning had arrived and, despite the death and destruction around me, I wanted desperately to find a better future in that beautiful light...

Epilogue- 2 Years Later

Vampires had rapidly gone into hiding, especially following the inquiry into the Miroh Massacre, as the newspapers delicately framed the tragedy. Apparently, society decided that they would no longer embrace their culture, finding more evidence of various Covens abusing the donor law which was eventually retracted in court. Subsequently, the vampires were forced to remain out of the public eye lest they face a severe punishment from the newly minted Hunters who spent their lives training to kill rogue vampires.

As for myself, I had finally taken back full ownership of my life, accepting a full-time research position that eventually led me to my future husband. After our marriage, we moved into an idyllic home in the suburbs and I gave birth to my son who proved to be everything that I needed in this world. Everything was starting to work out for me, and I was finally reassured that the past was truly forgotten because the ones who had haunted it were now gone forever.

“Mommy!” my son called, and I found him in the doorway to his bedroom looking up at me with tired brown eyes. “I can’t sleep.”

“Why is that?” I asked while gently encouraging him to lay back down on his bed.

“A kid in my class,” he said. “He told us about the vampires.”

“Yeah? Well, how would he know anything? He’s probably never even seen a vampire. Not many people have.”

“What about you?”

I shivered at the question. “It doesn’t matter, sweetheart. Vampires aren’t a problem anymore and there are people now who can protect us.”

“Really?” he asked, and his eyes were incredibly innocent of the true horrors of this world.

“They won’t ever hurt you,” I promised my son before flipping his light switch. I closed the door gently, praying that he might sleep through the entire night in his own bed, before I walked into the kitchen for something to drink. I smirked as I popped the cork on a new bottle of wine that my husband had bought for the two of us to share. It seemed unnecessarily mischievous to drink with my son in the other room, but I still liked to indulge every now and then, especially after remaining sober for nine months during my pregnancy.

I sighed as I drained the first glass, feeling the numbing effects spread through my body like an aphrodisiac. It had been a stressful day because of some unnecessary paperwork at the research institute where I worked, but I knew that everyday couldn’t be perfect. After all, I was absolutely grateful for everything in my life, even if it caused me the occasional headache.

I started washing my wine glass, lost in thought until a strange noise outside forced me to pause in my cleaning. It sounded close to the garage attached to our house, and I figured it might be raccoons again because they were becoming a problem. I glanced out the window, shrugging when I didn’t notice anything suspicious. However, if I had only taken an extra moment to study the outline of my husband’s garden, then I might’ve noticed the unusual pair of crimson-red eyes watching me from outside.

The End.

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #skz #skz fanfic #stray kids smut #bang chan #han jisung #seo changbin #lee minho #hwang hyunjin #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #stray kids fantasy #stray kids vampires #skz imagines #skz scenarios #3racha fanfic

166 notes · View notes

unholyplumpprincess · 4 years ago

Text

Corrupted Angel

For twitter user @/EnEssTimesTwo bc I fell in love with her vampire Bloodhound art and this is based off one of her art images which I can’t seem to link back to!

Summary: Essentially a monster au where human Elliott is a burlesque/exotic dancer who has caught the eye of a owl masked person who tips very well yet is too damned polite when Elliott just wants them to grab him and make him a meal. Not knowing, well, what kind of meal they’d really want.

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bloodhound/Mirage

Warning: NSFT/R18+, monster au involving vampire Bloodhound, Bloodhound has body mods so if you don’t like those!, Elliott has a fang kink, Bloodhound’s nasty oral fixation, basically Mirage’s dick is a caprisun and Bloodhound is Hungry, nothing really like ‘terrible’ in here as far as kinky just oral and some dirty dancing.

Words: 7k

_______________

In a world like this, getting clients that were of inhuman breed wasn’t so uncommon.

Other folk, or commonly known as the monster breeds of their species, were just as normal to have around as humans were. Beasts of great heights and strengths covered head to toe in fur and too many arms, or to the more human looking ones with sharp teeth and a wicked grin, to the ghostly apparitions that haunted your very heart.

Elliott had been one of four children to end up being a human. His brothers had all been lycanthropes like his mama, Maria, while he took after his mom Evelynn. Not that it had been too big of a deal, just that his brothers had a higher appetite than himself and he needed to learn to not laugh when his eldest turned into the fluffiest little wolf pup he’d ever seen.

Old memories that would forever fill him with nostalgia and happiness, he missed them dearly.

Elliott nowadays kept himself busy at the club he worked at. Twirling on poles, racking in delicious clientele who were to die for in their own very beauty, dancing and working them up in certain costumes. He was a crowd pleader, widely beloved in the club as one of the best around. A beautiful tease with an award-winning smile.

~Rest under the cut~

The problem? Well, most dancers liked to get some extra cash by bedding their regulars. It wasn’t an issue here, the way it was run was a safe environment for the dancers. Body guards rested around at the ready, panic buttons in the hotel rooms that were upstairs above the club; Condoms and lubricant supplied- not to mention anything else you may need when dealing with clients who were more...monstrous. Or those who weren’t interested in bedding you, but feeding.

Elliott, however, didn’t just let anyone take him upstairs. He enjoyed intimacy, sure, loved to tease and plead the masses, but you had to get his attention in order to even pay for his services. Tips weren’t hard for him to come by, not when he used long, strong legs to frame his client’s lap and purred in their ear with a low tone of voice. Letting his stubble scratch over their flesh and murmuring teases.

A rumor had spread around about him that he would laugh at. That he would not bed humans, that he liked the danger too much. Whispers in the club of how you had to be tall, had to have cash, that you had to not want sex but instead be seeking out feeding or discipline, all sorts of rumors that were just false. Or at least, vaguely correct but not quite.

He...he liked danger, he’ll admit that much, but in the end not a lot of people caught his eye in that way. He had to want and enjoy it too, right? And not just for the sex that came out of it.

Yet, the only client that came to mind that he’d oh so willingly bed to the point he was ready to beg THEM to go up to a room with him, was one who was too polite.

Devilish red, glowing eyes, always coming masked like most people were to enter a club such as this. Dressed in tight old-fashioned leathers and an old owl style look to their mask, and though full faced, Elliott could feel the hunger clearly through it. They only spoke with him after dances, never for him to come to the back with them, just offering generous tips in the politest way of giving it to him straight forward. Compliments that spread redness to Elliott’s cheeks as they’d boldly brush their knuckles over his cheek, only to retract and apologize for the act.

The person was loaded, that was for sure. Their gloved hands always had wads of cash that would pay his rent in one sitting. He’d tried offering more, a private dance, a private...event even. Trying not to make himself look TOO desperate.

But they would always kindly decline, saying they were busy and only here for just a moment. Even going so far as to kindly tell him that they did not wish to take up too much of his time. Always so damned polite .

What Elliott would do to take a peek under that mask and see his most fantasized about person.

A small note of the club was a twist on the old concept of burlesque dancers, their clients were masked, while the dancers could choose to wear one or not. Elliott thought it gave excitement for their clients to be masked, while providing privacy for their identity if they chose to not be recognized outside.

Wraith preferred the mask, one of his coworkers and closest friend. Though, not human. Her class was a banshee, long since caught between death and life as she’d told him.

Her pale skin was ice cold to the touch, her voice sounded like multiples and could send chills down your spine. She always took upon a laced mask and some sort of leather costumery. You could find her perched on the lap of her most regular client, an old soldier who went by the alias Bangalore and showed up with an upper half face mask designed like a fluffy dog.

Elliott’s eyes drift in the dark room over to where Wraith’s stage was. Vaguely seeing her outline in the low dim of red LED’s surrounding her. He had seen her in the dressing rooms before they went on stage, he’d meowed at her and winked as she laughed and told him to get his outfit on. What? She looked hot; He could appreciate it.

She dressed in a leather body suit with matching thigh highs and killer heels that made up for her short height. The body suit looked more like an upper corset or bustier, the clasp at her crotch secured but the cut of the hip area coming high up above her hips for a sexier cut. Horns perched atop her head with a matching devil tail and red eyeliner to match. Her lace mask suited well for it, something he’d adjusted as he passed by and brushed her hair from her face affectionately.

It settled her own quiet anxieties as well as grounded him when Wraith had smirked at him and told him she was fine. Two peas in a pod, he’d always tell her before wishing each other luck.

A breath escapes Elliott’s lips now as he hooks his fingers around the pole. Motor motions, a slow warm up with the lights off as he idly twirls on the pole. The quiet, slow rising of the beginning of the remixed song. He lets his head fall back as he feels the anticipation, feeling his curls fall onto his chin where he’d purposefully made them loose and messy today.

It fit his own theme for the song of choice for both himself and Wraith.

His own is a lovely little angel get up. His hair had been loosely done today, curls allowed to fall freely and beautifully to curl onto the side of his face. Soft makeup had been applied of lipstick, kitten liner, and soft highlights. His facial hair had been trimmed up a bit for the event. His outfit consisted of a white ribbon choker with a matching harness that tied over the top of his chest and at the bottom of his ribcage, coming up over his shoulders for small wings to sprout from his back.

A white, see through bralette rested over his chest, yet the harness presses his pecs to give the appearance of more cleavage. A small pair of white shorts, small enough to be considered panties, rest over his lower half, as well as white thigh highs with garters and black boots.

He looked cute, if he would admit that to himself. He liked getting all dolled up and showing off his strong body, fit with lean muscle and sharp curves. He liked being drooled over, liked being watched. Not to mention the fact anyone in this club didn’t mind whether he dressed feminine or masculine, or what name he went by. All they knew was his stage name-

“Presenting- Mirage and Wraith! Give it up for them whilst they give an electrifying performance to the song: Horns!” Natalie- better known as Wattson was always a good show host, standing a little ways away on her own stage in her ring leader outfit, she throws one gloved hand in the air as she speaks, a big smile on her face and her other hand full of the microphone. The crowd cheers before quieting down just as the song begins.

The song is a remixed version, starting slow as the lights begin to flash. There’s the briefest moment that Wraith and him share a look as it begins before they’re matching movements.

There’s a slow twist of his head thrice that he knows she’s matching. The grinding movement of hips downwards into a crouch that leaves the crowd cheering matched with the slow rise up with a dramatic bow of the back to make eyes fall to his ass. The repeating humping motion until the lyrics begin and he’s doing a twirl around the base of the pole. Followed by the low, slow grinding crouch with too much leg pushing out, his head falling to the side as his eyes narrow sensually and he looks for his targeted prey in the audience.

The sight of an owl mask never leaving his form makes him grin.

The desperately cried out word of ‘ breathe ’ in the song makes him slow to his knees, wrapping fingers around his throat and adding up the sexuality with a flutter of his lashes. It’s so brief before his body is dragging itself upwards, both hands gripping the pole as he hoists himself up onto it, turning his body upside down to hang off in a back bending twirl before beginning to ascend with each grab and pull. All never breaking his own innocent flutter and smiles. He knows damn well without looking that Wraith has an opposite expression of a snarl and sexual energy.

Every time he comes back around to be able to look at the crowd, normally he’d let his gaze sweep the crowd, let them all feel attended to. But Elliott can’t help it when his gaze keeps settling on that owl masked wearing stranger. Even when it comes time to the part of the song where he sings ‘Heel stomping down my throat’ and he rolls onto his back, arching himself upwards with a dramatic bow of his back and letting his eyes flutter when his hips thrust into the air and roll.

His gaze never falters.

Elliott swears he could hear a growl from them, but the music and bass is so loud, there’s no way he could have heard it. Right? But why was it so clear? As if it echoed in his mind.

He doesn’t falter regardless in his routine. He likes the hungry gazes on his body, but more important how that full faced mask never loses him for a moment. Even at the end of the routine where Wraith ends with her back facing the crowd, head tipped over one shoulder, tail curled around her wrist and a red glow over her frame, and Elliott reflects by facing the crowd, head tipped to one side as if bashful, and thumbs interlocked to fans his hands into wings at his chest, the light reflecting blue.

With the crowd cheering and the lights dimming, both of them are able to make their way off the stages towards the crowd and begin to find people who wish to engage with them. Wraith, as Elliott notices, works her way through the crowd with her polite ‘thank you’s as she finds her way to her favorite client. He could laugh, really, but honestly was he any better?

When Elliott enters the crowd, he works his magic all whilst waiting for the telltale feeling of gloved fingers stroking over his arm to gather his attention. When he feels it, he excuses himself with promises of returning with playful winks.

“You shall not be returning.” Comes a voice in his head, practically a purr echoing throughout and Elliott’s eyes blink a few times, tempted to look around the room- but that voice was familiar. The same person who now rounded a corner ahead of him, cloak billowing behind them.

Well, damn, mark Elliott down as scared and horny.

Normally this stranger liked to give him the cash and let that be that. But the idea of them wanting to keep him around longer this time? His heart flutters, wondering if he’d get to see them unmasked, to hear that gorgeous accented voice sing his praises and stop acting so polite and let him see them absolutely unhinged -

Wait, could they hear his thoughts or just talk to him through them? Quick, Witt, think something less horny! Uh- Old mcdonald had a farm, E I E I--

“Come here,” Comes the haunting voice around the corner. The one Elliott has been following down and down the halls until they’re near the staircase that led up to private rooms. His heart is pounding when he turns the corner, already ready with a pick up line and a thank you from the bottom of his heart. But fingers hitch into the straps at his chest, yanking him close until next thing he knows he’s pressed up against the window nearby. The flashing neon lights outside of the sign reflecting across his skin.

“H-hey there! A little eager for the bedroom, aren’tcha?” Elliott manages to get out, his voice nervous as that mask is so close to his own face. Near nose to nose—or rather, nose to beak with the mask. Able to make out the respirator so close, and the dark fabric on the owl’s eyes seeming to hide a pair behind them much brighter. He also notes that their gloved hands are resting politely on him, one on his shoulder, the other hovering over his waist. And oh, how he wished they’d just give up the mystery already, maybe even yank him closer-

As if blessed, the hand that had been hovering at his waist lifts to their mask. Grabbing at its beak to pull it up, “No. I am simply ready for my meal-- if you are willing.” And the entire time they say this singular sentence, they slowly pull up their mask to set on the stairs nearby. Elliott’s heart races because of course they’d be attractive. With a voice like that, honestly what was he expecting?

Their hood still remains on their head, a few loose red curls framing their sharp face. He notes the red face paint on their face- before realizing that’s tattoos. The scarring across the right side of their face looking like they got into a fight with a beast, the eye blinded and appearing like a mini solar flare. Yet their other a deep, dark red with a slit pupil focused entirely on him. More scars edge at their throat, climbing up like lightning across a sky over their jawline.

Elliott’s already dizzy, eyes tracing over their deep olive skin tone, over their pierced roman nose and down just in time to see their plump lips part. Showing a double set of fangs and a split tongue with vertical piercings up each tongue- good lords.

“Th- th -those are some serious chompers.” Is all Elliott can manage to get out, his breath caught in his throat as his hazel eyes focus on their teeth. He could beat himself up for THAT being the thing out of his mouth. Not how attractive they were, not how he really wished they’d just skip the tip and take him right to the bedroom- free of charge!

The phrase makes their head cock charmingly, as if it hadn’t occurred to them that their teeth would be the focal point. Though he hadn’t said ‘no’ nor did Elliott look AGAINST said ‘chompers’. They lick over their fangs, only serving to make Elliott’s head fall back as if he was already preparing to be the most delicious meal.

“Do not worry. I do not ‘chomp’, as you say.” They speak lowly near his ear as they lean in. Elliott can hear the way they inhale his scent, sounding like they’re swearing under their breath and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t ragingly hard in his already too tight of shorts. Especially when they come closer to him, lips brushing over his throbbing pulse and Elliott can only hope he’s making it quite clear that he’s all game for whatever ‘not chomping’ they’re about to do.

Vampire. It all made sense, really, when he put it all together. The get up was rather old fashioned, their politeness even more so. Or the fact he’d noticed that they’d adorably pause at the bar every single time, never ordering anything, but always seemed keen on counting all the bottles. Then of course the mental communication- seems his client was one of the older of the breed, maybe a few centuries old.

Thoughts he’d save for later. When he’s not being distracted.

Lips brush up the length of his exposed throat, just brushing and making Elliott shiver. Their lips press to his pierced lobe, lightly nipping and making Elliott gasp out a low moan. When they chuckle lowly at his reaction, he swears he could cum right then and there.

“Wait,” He starts, amazed at how quickly they back up but he’s quick to whine to ease their worried expression. Cute how they thought they had crossed a boundary- anyone else would probably have tried ripping off his clothes right then and there. “Your--your name. I never got it?”

His client’s furrowed brows relax near instantly, their worried expression easing up as a soft, relieved breath leaves them. Idly, a gloved hand comes up, tucking a curl behind Elliott’s ear and making his heart throb. There’s only a pause longer before they murmur out. “Bloodhound. You may call me Bloodhound. I assume your tongue could not handle the original pronunciation.”

“But your tongue may be able to handle other things much better.” Comes the echoed purr in his mind, though their lips do not move to speak, they do curl into an attractive smirk that makes him about whimper.

“Bloodhound,” He breathes out, enjoying the way their eyes seem to narrow at the sound. It’s as if he knew they’ve wanted to hear it this entire time. It’s almost a power trip, almost, if he weren’t the one pinned to a wall and about to cum in his own shorts from some gentle petting. “You said meal- now-now I’m absolutely willing! Promise, absolutely down for it, it would be a ple- pleas- pleas— absolute delight to do that for you.” Curse his need to talk too much when he was like this.

Bloodhound's eyes seem to grow darker at that, despite his clear mishap, they don’t mention it. A quiet gesture that honestly put Elliott at ease. The hand on his shoulder slides up to his neck and Elliott’s eyes flutter, willingly moving his head to the side with the gentle touch so they could trace their fingers up and grab his jaw lightly.

“...You mentioned a bedroom?”

Oh, fuck yeah.

Elliot had never moved quicker in his life. Bloodhound had slid their mask back on, following him up the stairs and towards one of the hotel rooms that were available for their work to continue. He could laugh at them politely waiting outside the door before he remembers to invite them inside.

It’s a standard room with soft lighting and a bed fit in the center. Toys are lined on the wall, a pole in the room and a few comfortable chairs. There’s a bathroom for freshening up too, fit with anything that may come in handy.

The lights and any music could be adjusted via a panel on the wall when they entered. Something Elliott is quick to shift the lights to a deep red and letting music play lowly. When he looks over at Bloodhound, Elliott gets the pleasant view of watching them remove their mask and cloak.

They shake their hair loose, moving a gloved hand through it to toss their curls. Now, Elliott had seen plenty of attractive people around here. But he doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so beautiful in his life. Not even himself, and that’s saying a lot.

He feels his mouth go even drier when he looks down at what they’re wearing. Normally they were always in an old fashioned get up or in leathers. But now their outfit consists of a plunge neck black dress reaching just beneath their chest to show cleavage. The dress skirts the floor, a long slit up each leg and heeled boots resting upon their feet. They looked dressed to kill. Even more so when Elliott’s eyes are trailing back up slowly, feeling ever so dizzy when he meets their gaze, a smirk on their lips quirked ever so to show one fang on their lower lip-

“I have not looked into your rates.” They speak casually, walking towards him with one foot slowly in front of the other. As if they’re stalking him. A devil stalking an angel. Oh, Elliott would be a good sinner, he swears. His knees wobbling by the time they reach him, their gloved hand cupping his cheek and their thumb running across the sharpness of his cheekbone.

“Consider this a ‘thank you’ for your gen- generous tips.” Elliott manages to practically whine out, hating how his voice pitches up when their hand slides down his throat to trail down and rest on his chest. They’re walking him backwards, until the back of his knees hit a chair and he’s sinking right down. He has the pleasure of looking up at them, seeing their hair curling around their face beautifully with the red light illuminated behind them. Now, Elliott prides himself on being a good boy, so he lets it known he’s very interested by cocking his head to the side, straining his neck and trying to look as appetizing as possible.

“Ah, but those were merely for watching your beautiful body dance, Elliott.” They croon out his name in a way that makes heat roll down his spine. He REALLY needs to be out of these shorts yesterday, but he’s willing to wait a little longer if it means wearing some nice bruises and puncture marks on his neck. He whimpers at the thought, rolling his hips up into nothing and he swears he hears Bloodhound inhale like someone inhaling the scent of a bakery.

He’s waiting for them to pounce him, sink those deliciously sharp looking fangs into his throat- maybe they’d even let him grab their ass while they were at it? They had such a nice ass, rounded and juicy even in their dress. He wonders vaguely if they’d ever done dance work as well-

But before his mind can wander too far. Elliott watches them pull their hair back, tugging it up into a ponytail and tying it. The visual makes his cock jerk in his tight little shorts, a whine escaping his throat as they tuck loose strands of hair behind their pierced ears. And instead of pouncing on him like he expected and is tensed for, they sink to their knees.

Wait a minute.

“I thought you were hungry?” He manages to squeak out, watching as they rest between his spread thighs. A small grin makes its way to their lips, and it truly should be a crime how attractive they are, fangs and all.

“You must not be aware of feeding habits,” Bloodhound softly laughs out, their hands running over his thighs and the leather feeling just as sweet as it did over his throat. Elliott’s breath catches when they skirt his inner thighs, his legs trying to fall apart further. “If you would prefer I sink my teeth into your pretty neck and mark you as my own, I would not mind.”

Elliott moans freely at the idea, head falling back and hips rolling into nothing. He could just imagine it, the teeth marks in his neck, the bruises. He imagines they’d snarl if they saw he’d tried to cover them up with makeup. Normally he’s not about someone trying to stake some sort of claim on him, especially in a situation such as his job. But something about Bloodhound made him want more and more and more.

“Or,” They murmur, catching his attention again as their hand finally slides over the front of his shorts. Elliott cries out, over sensitive as they apply pressure to grope him. “You shall feed me everything you can from here. And we can discuss regular feeding sessions in...other manners, if you so choose.”

Other manners?! OTHER MANNERS?! Elliott’s catching onto the whole ‘life force’ rumors not being rumors like he’d thought. Blood and cum, yeah, he could do that- fuck what else could they do to him? What would they do to him?

They’re loaded with cash, absolutely drop dead gorgeous, AND implying they’re kinky. Call Elliott a sucker all you like for even offering something for free, but could you BLAME HIM?!

“I shall not continue if I do not hear verbal consent, sweet one.” Bloodhound’s voice pierces his loud thoughts, not having even noticed he’s practically dry humping their hand that they’ve so generously kept pressure with. Elliott’s dizzy already, panting and rolling his head to the side so he could finally look at them again.

Oh, yeah, he could definitely get used to that sight.

“Yes! Yes- fuck, yes, absolutely. However you- you- you want to feed! Whatever you want, Hound, please just- fuck stop teasing. Please? Come on I’m not supposed to be the one- the one begging here!” The nickname slips out, truly, as does his pleading. It rolling right out of his mouth as easy as breathing. They don’t seem to mind, in fact, they seem pleased by his begging. Going so far as to give him this wolfish sort of grin that shows a lot of fang and- yeah he’s definitely going to cum in his shorts if they do that--

“If you insist.”

That’s the last thing he hears from that torturously delicious looking mouth. His shorts are immediately tugged off, hanging off one of his ankles, but when he goes to discard the harness and angel wings, they stop him with a dangerous look in their eye. He wonders if they like that sort of thing- roleplay. God, he could just imagine them in some devil get up seducing him. Fuck.

Elliott’s mind immediately stops when he looks down, however. His cock is out in the open, heavy and drooling with pre-cum in a way he doesn’t think he’s ever done. The head is reddened, desperate with arousal, a prominent vein on his cock more pronounced. He’s always thought he’s had a nice dick, the foreskin coming up to rest just about the round of the head, a good size of seven inches and a good girth around. He’s trimmed his body hair to look more presentable on stage, but is clean shaven on the mound and his balls.

The best part is the way Bloodhound’s gloved fingers wrap around the base of his cock, giving it one full stroke to pull the foreskin down. Their lips are parted softly, enough for him to see the way their split tongue wets their lips with prominent saliva as if they’re drooling.

He’s never felt more look food before.

Elliott’s not sure if he’s more turned on at how desperate and hungry they look or the fact he’s about to get what he’s pretty sure is going to be the best blowjob he’ll ever have. He’s already tensed, whimpering low in his throat and flexing his fingers on the arm of the chair in anticipation. But before he can start begging again, they move.

First their tongue presses to the very bottom of his cock, licking up in a slow stripe in a way that Elliott can’t tear his eyes away from. Their glinting fangs look so dangerous, only to vanish when their plump lips seal around the head to give a soft suckle to, practically a wet heated fleeting kiss. Elliott would never admit to how he sounds now, not even faking the noises of his cries at just the smallest of touches.

It makes it even worse when Bloodhound has the audacity to moan. This soft little sound in their throat like a content fucking kitten. Ridiculously, Elliott only feels closer because of the sound, his fingers practically clutching the arms of the chair for dear life. His thighs are trembling, his skin feeling far too hot even in something so little as a harness, and his voice isn’t feeling like his own as moans and sobs slip out.

They repeat the same motions a few times of licking him up and suckling the head briefly, and he has half a mind to tell this beautiful vampire with insanely sharp teeth to stop playing with their food. But once their lips finally suckle around him, their head comes down in one go, swallowing him down a strangely cool throat with the threat of teeth resting at the base of his dick.

Elliott cums.

He cums harder than he thinks he’s ever cum before in his life. His body reacts on instinct, hands coming to Bloodhound’s head to hold them right where they are as beautiful sobs leave his lips and swears flying out. His thighs tremble, his hips weakly trying to hump against Bloodhound’s face with nowhere to go since they’ve deepthroated him entirely.

“Such a delicious taste,” Comes that haunting voice in his head. It only serves to make Elliott’s hips weakly jerk again, feeling their throat constrict as they swallow his cum with a moan. “ You were a deserved wait. You taste divine, lítill engill. Better than I have imagined. ”

“Thank you,” Elliott practically sobs out, his fingers still pressed to their scalp as he sobs out again. “Thank you, thank y-you- fuck-”

The gentle lift of their head signals for his hands to retreat. Watching and feeling how their mouth slides over him with a fleeting kiss pressed to his still reddened head. Elliott just about goes cross eyed at the sensation, leaning back in the chair and throwing his head back as he tries to focus his panting breaths to narrow out into something normal.

A cry leaves his lips when their gloved hand wraps around his cock to jerk him a few times. Over sensitivity ringing across his skin as he sobs out, “Wait, wait- can't go again that-that— fuck- quickly!” He’s practically begging, yet his hands stay glued to the arm of the chair again. Only able to look down at them and the way their eyes dance with mischief.

“And I am yet sated. Do you wish for me to starve, little one? You were so eager to be made a meal of.” Their tone is taunting. As if they know exactly what they’re doing. And fuck, they probably do. Curse their fucking beautiful, stupid face and how their eyes make Elliott feel so small and yet so adored. So...paid attention to- more than he had in forever.

Elliott’s immediately whimpering, shaking his head and rolling his hips up against their hand despite how his motions are quivering with the strain of his muscles. “No! No, no, no, promise! Promise I can be good for you, I want to be good for you- oh god just let me-” Elliott’s breathing is wet, strained with tears pricking his eyes as their hand squeezes his cock to wring out anymore cum he may have. Just to watch them lap at the head of his dick to take it all eagerly.

“God -” Elliott sobs out again at the sight alone.

“You flatter me.” They respond with a teasing tone, letting their lips brush across his slick flesh with each movement.

They’re a devil in disguise, Elliott is sure. This is what he gets for wearing an angel get up today, of course he’d find himself at the mercy of a demon who’s going to suck the absolute soul out of him via his dick. And he isn’t even mad is the funniest part of this, he’s willing his body to try and relax, despite their teasing motions and the way their lips part so he can see their fangs again and how hungry they look.

Elliott’s fingers flex again on the arms of the chair, wanting so badly to maybe pull their hair or ease them back to him to show he’s ready. He’s too busy wondering if he’ll get chomped by them that he doesn’t notice they seem to sense his inner turmoil, not until their free hand gently grabs his wrist and begins guiding it to their ponytail for him to grip.

Elliott’s face flushes deep red at the simple action, a blinding smile crossing his face and showing off his dimples. His heart twists pleasantly at such a simple gesture, and vaguely he’s wondering if he can’t get Bloodhound’s number and make this more than whatever sort of sugar baby relationship this feels like.

What he doesn’t realize is how Bloodhound is looking at his smile, at his flushed face with a healthy glow about him. Thinking how beautiful he is, how darling he must be to have as a lover, how obedient and kind he must be. Even so willing to accept their claim on him already as to get excited at the prospect of being bitten and exposed to being claimed on stage. They could supply him everything he needed. Could fulfill every sexual desire, make sure he had enough money for anything he wanted.

Longing. Yearning. Emotions that Bloodhound should not have whilst trying to play with their food.

“O...okay, okay I think I’m ready to go.” Elliott finally says after a comfortable pause of silence. Their gaze is so intense on him, making him feel like the star of his own show right now. Even more so when they smile, this genuine little thing that makes his heart pound and not just because he’s thinking about their fangs on his cock again.

Way to go, Witt, already falling for someone.

Their lips wrap around the head again and Elliott’s breath is taken away again. He groans, head lolling to the side and eyes half lidded, making sure to watch them. Their own eyes flutter closed, their thumb tracing along the underside of his cock in their grip as they stay suckling and toying with the sensitive glands at the underside of his head. They keep his foreskin pulled back, their tongue lapping at the slit and making his thighs jerk with sensitivity at each brush.

Bloodhound is clearly starting slow, but still keeping him on the edge of overstimulation. Elliott’s toes curl into his heels, his other hand coming to rest on the back of their head and feeling over the shaved hair with his thumb idly. A whimper blossoms from his throat when their hand moves down from holding his cock to slide down to cup his balls, thumbing the seam and gently squeezing.

It’s like they know exactly how to play him.

“Fuck, baby-” He hisses out, not paying any mind to what is coming out of his mouth. They hum at him regardless, and vaguely he can hear this sort of hum in the back of his mind that he can feel pressing until he hears their voice curling into his mind like delicious smoke.

“You taste divine, little one.” It’s a purr in his head, resounding and making his cock throb at the praise, let alone the pet name. He wants to say thank you, but his mouth feels like honey, only spilling out soft whines and moans. “You are being such a good boy, so pliant and willing for me.”

Yep, that’s really doing it for him.

His hands press at their head as his hips come up, finding that they go with ease and no resistance. It gets to the point where he’s able to hold them still, fucking up into their mouth as their hands slide under to grab his ass to urge him to continue his thrusts. Elliott’s mind is swimming, swears finally able to come from his mouth and filth following along with it along the lines of, “W-want to touch you. Want to make you- ah!- feel good, want you to-to-to bite me-” All promises and praises keening from his lips like a singing bird.

In his head he can hear phrases murmured back at him, some in a tongue he doesn’t recognize. Some make sense like ‘ good boy ’ and ‘ you taste divine ’ echoing again and again matched with deeper snarls that make his skin sing like ‘Mine ’ and ‘ I shall ruin you for anyone else ’.

When Elliott cums again, their fingers sink into his ass and hold him up with amazing strength. They have him in their throat again, swallowing everything he has to offer as he sobs out his praises. His body feel tensed, overstimulated and ringing with a pleasantness of ’too much’. But he doesn’t feel like he couldn’t go again, feeling like he could just be their toy forever.

When they finally lower him back to the chair and slide their mouth off, Elliott feels the whine coming from his chest as his fingers scrabble to press back down on their head. It’s like they were a drug he couldn’t get enough of, even if he is shaking. “Please, please, more, please, baby, please, please, please- ”

The snarl he hears from their own chest sounds possessive and pleased, a low grumble as they take him again.

He cums two more times through the night before Bloodhound is finally sated. Elliott is an absolute mess, babbling away once he’s finally come down from his high. He expects they’re going to maybe just pay and leave, but for a small moment he kind of blacks out.

When he comes back to, he’s naked and been placed in a cool bath. The temperature is soothing on his too hot of skin, and when he lolls his head to the side, he sees Bloodhound resting on their knees by the tub. Their eyes flick up to him, the washcloth they were using to wipe at the glitter on his chest pausing. They offer a small, almost nervous smile. “It appears you passed out momentarily. I assumed you were overheated. My apologies.”

“Can I kiss you?” Elliott blurts out in reply before he can even think differently of it. He almost laughs at their surprised look, not knowing that their confident expression could drop into such a look so quick. Their eyes widen ever so slightly, eyebrows raising before a soft laugh leaves their chest, almost...flustered sounding.

Man, what Elliott would do to hear it again.

“I...Yes, you may.”

It’s all the consent he needs before he’s reaching over, resting a hand on their cold cheek and vaguely understanding why they wore the gloves now. They felt chilly to the touch. Bloodhound, in turn, looks at him expectantly as they lean over the bath tub, hovering above him and letting their breath mingle at their closeness.

It’s intimate.

When their lips meet, both of Elliott’s hands come to rest on their cheeks, sliding into their hair with a low moan in his throat. They kiss him gently in turn, their hand resting on his chest to steady their body as they guide the kiss. When they lick into his mouth, he can vaguely taste himself, only serving to make a familiar whimper resound from his chest.

When they part, Elliott takes the chance to surprise them again with a murmur of, “Can I have your number? You...you know, in case you get hungry again and I’m not working...?”

Their looks is definitely worth it again when they lean back slightly, a crooked smirk upon their lips. “You are bold, Elliott Witt.”

“That’s not a no.”

“I suppose it is not.” They agree, eyes dancing with mischief as their eyes flicker to his lips when he licks them and bites down on his bottom lip. Bloodhound could sigh, he was too cute, even if they know the exact reason he’d want their number. And not just due to him wanting to get ‘chomped’ as he so put it.

When Elliott beams brightly at them and tilts his head for another kiss, they feel that they are too weak to even consider denying him. Leaning in to take his lips again and again and again.

They suppose that this was a rather unconventional way to try and seduce the dancer, but in the end it pays off when not a day later they receive a lengthy text of Elliott saying of what a good time he had and thanking them for the tip, as always. And that when could he catch them for a date?

It would certainly be sweet, if he didn’t leave the damned vampire emoji at the end.

#miragehound #Bloodhound #Mirage #apex legends #apex lemons #vampire bloodhound #nsft #lemon #princess writing

17 notes · View notes

angelanimedesaray · 5 years ago

Text

Animal Instincts (Part 2 of The Investment)

AN: yeeeaaahhhh this became a series. Not a super big ambitious one like Through The Looking Glass, but...there’s a few parts. Not sure if I can call it a mini-series, so right now I’ll just say series. Also this is officially a nitty-gritty series compared to some of my other stuff/ideas. I just feel like Vampire stuff should be like that, Y’know??? Also, yes, I’m a monster, believe me, I know, I was thinking that as I wrote some of these scenes...

AN On Character: Before ANYONE can call me out for this...if Levi seems too emotional...In my little Vampire Lore World, emotions are AMPLIFIED for Vampires. Happiness becomes joy, sadness becomes despair, (emotional) pain becomes agony, grief becomes devastation, etc etc.

Characters: Vampire!Levi, Reader, Hange, Erwin (Mentioned), many unnamed background OCs

Pairing: Still not sure if I can be labeling this Levi x Reader, esssspecially for this chapter...

Warnings: Language, Biting, Blood, Violence, Threats of Violence, Gore, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Heavy Angst, Bad Bad BAD Decisions. *Spoilery Tag* here comes some serious ‘Hurt Them to Protect Them’ Logic

Word Count: 11037

<---Previous Part Next Part--->

*Levi’s POV*

“You’re having far too much fun poking at me, Four-Eyes.”

“You can’t complain, Levi--you consented!”

“I made the mistake of assuming you’d have some form of restraint considering the situation.”

“Oh, come on, Levi, don’t be like that--don’t you find all this exciting?”

“No.”

“Just think of all we’re learning, though! Isn’t it fun?”

“None of this is my idea of fun.”

“That’s just because you’re too busy sulking to appreciate how fascinating this all is.”

“Tch.”

Levi sat next to Hange’s desk in her cluttered office, idly wiping a stray strand of blood from the fresh cut on his arm as she swiftly moved to study her new blood samples under the microscope. The curtains were drawn in consideration for Levi, the light in the room provided by the kerosene lamp on her desk. It was the morning after Levi had fed, and Hange was wanting to see if she could see any differences in his blood after his hunger had been satisfied. Ever since seeing how his blood had been able to bring Y/N back from the brink of death, Hange had been...rather obsessed. It was impressive how she managed to juggle her excited prodding of Eren as well as her smaller-scale experiments on Levi behind closed doors, though Levi was starting to wonder if she was even sleeping between it all.

“It’s amazing, but so unfair! We know your blood is different, that it has these extraordinary properties, and yet, comparing it with some of my own, there’s no visible difference I can see, even after you’ve fed--it appears to be the same as the sample of normal blood!” Hange said, her voice dipping in frustrated disappointment before swinging back upwards in excitement over and over again as she spoke.

Levi wiped the small smear of blood on his fingers away with his handkerchief and started to roll his sleeve back down. “Nothing about you is normal, Hange,” he deadpanned. “Eight seconds.”

“Oh?” Hange asked, perking up from the microscope to glance at where the minor injury had been, not a trace of blood left behind and smooth skin where the cut had been disappearing under his white sleeve. “That’s faster than last time by...five, six seconds? Does this mean that you heal faster the better fed you are?” Hange mused.

“It’s one theory,” Levi murmured, thinking back to when he’d given Y/N his blood. He had just, just fed off of her, yet the wound on his wrist then had taken a minute or more to heal up. Maybe there was some kind of focus or willpower involved, too. Right now, he didn’t need or want the wound to linger, and it didn’t, while then he’d need and wanted it to.

Just another theory to add to Hange’s growing pile.

Hange turned her attention back to the microscope, trying--most likely in vain--to see some kind of difference in his blood in case her first observation was wrong. “Speaking of feeding…”

“No, Hange,” Levi said in a quick, hard tone before she could continue her leading statement.

“Levi-iii, why not?” she whined. His irritation flared--how many times did he have to tell her no?

“I don’t have control when the hunger takes over like that--it’d be too dangerous. There’s no telling what could happen, and I can’t guarantee your safety.”

“It can’t be any different from poking at titans, which, need I remind you, I did with non-intelligent titans before we started the experiments with Eren.”

“This is different,” Levi said coldly. “Besides. It’s not something you want to see. Not really.”

“Except I do.”

Levi didn’t even bother to answer her this time. He’d already told her no, and since no one knew the Underground as well as him and he now had his inhuman speed, it wasn’t like she could follow him down into the Underground to try and spy on him. He had the final say, and he’d already said no.

Hange grumbled nonsense at his silence, Levi’s sensitive hearing not even able to pick up two words that could be strung together. “You’ve been more...short tempered, recently.”

“I wonder why.”

Hange ignored his sarcastic jab and kept talking.

“With all your senses and abilities being amplified, do you think its possible your personality has been, too? Your emotions?” Hange asked, growing curiosity in her voice as the theory formed.

Levi actually paused to consider it. He was annoyed easier recently. Sometimes he found it hard to get a grip on himself with emotions that went to extremes far faster than normal, or he clamped down so harshly on an impulse or emotion that he didn’t feel anything. He constantly felt like he was trying to do a balancing act blindfolded between the two extremes, trying to get back to his normal. Even he was aware that he wasn’t himself recently--besides the obvious. Though he’d written it off as just dealing with everything that had happened. What if this was going to be his normal if he couldn’t find that balance?

“I’m going to take your thoughtful silence as a yes,” Hange said, already reaching over to scribble down notes. “I feel sorry for the cadets.”

Levi scowled. What, did she think he had no self-control? He wasn’t taking all this craziness out on anyone, and he wasn’t about to start now.

“Don’t you have to go poke at Eren instead of me this morning?” he asked, giving Hange a steady look.

“Yes, but when I’m done, I’ll try to snag you for a few more tests I want to try today.”

“Wonderful…” Levi grumbled, already getting to his feet.

“Before you leave, just a few more questions!”

Levi paused, eyebrows raised, waiting for her to speak only a step away from the door.

“How’s the filtering with your hearing coming? Have you tried anything to help with the overpowering smells? Is the sunlight still bothering you the same way? What about those urges when you’re around people?”

Levi turned and leaned his back against the door, expanding his explanation for Hange’s sake so she could take her notes. “Sunlight’s still irritating. Tolerable, but in short bursts, not long periods. The best I can do for scent is to not breathe through my nose when something’s too strong. I’m getting better at focusing on specific sounds to block out the excess, but if there’s something sudden or sharp it all floods in again.” Levi paused, hesitating to go into details about his bloodlust issues. But Hange and Erwin needed to know what his limits were if they were going to keep others safe from him. They needed to be aware what made him more likely to bite someone. He’d already had a few close calls, and they all knew it. “It’s still...hard, when someone’s bleeding near me, even if I’ve fed recently. But being well fed--blood or regular food--helps...but only so much. When I’m around people, if I can block out their pulse by focusing on something else--even if its just different breaths or a person’s voice--I’ll be just fine. If I don’t, or I get...distracted by the sound of someone’s pulse, that desire returns.”

“Do you think it’s getting easier with time?” Hange asked, her voice soft in consideration with the subject Levi was far more sensitive about.

“No. Not yet, anyway.”

“Do you think you need to eat more?”

Levi shook his head. “No. There’s a difference between the desire and the hunger. And usually I take the first chance I have to slip away when I feel that shift.”

“I’ll see if I can come up with some ideas on what might help. There’s still plenty we don’t know, so maybe we just need to spend a bit more time exploring.”

“Another time,” Levi said flatly, straightening up and turning to leave. He paused with his hand hovering over the doorknob, the sound of a new heartbeat from just on the other side of the door and a familiar scent wafting towards him causing him to stiffen before he turned to face Hange with a hiss. “Did you know she was coming?”

While Erwin had agreed to Levi’s request that Y/N be kept away from Levi as much as possible, Hange had openly disagreed with Levi’s tactic and had even tried to talk him out of it once. It was already hard enough to dodge Y/N daily while the persistent woman kept trying to corner him to make him talk to her. If Hange had started actively taking Y/N’s side and trying to get the two to bump into one another, staying away from her was going to become nearly impossible.

Hange held up her hands defensively. “I’m innocent this time, Levi, I swear.”

He didn’t believe her.

Levi’s teeth ground together as he backed away from the door, a knock sounding a few seconds later. Levi jerked his head towards the door to tell Hange to open it herself, his body taunt as he waited for the brief window he would have. Hange sighed dramatically to show her displeasure at the events around her, as always, but Levi simply ignored it, eyes still on the door.

As soon as the door had opened wide enough for Levi to slip through, he bolted, using his new speed to pass by Y/N with little more than a soft gust of air, maybe the briefest glimpse of Levi inside Hange’s office that would have been brief enough to pass off as a hopeful illusion. He didn’t stop until he reached an empty hall far enough away he couldn’t hear her heartbeat anymore. Once there, he leaned against the wall for a brief moment, eyes closed as he pushed any rising thoughts about her as far down as he could and reoriented himself.

He straightened just in time for another scout to round the corner, subconsciously putting on the façade of favoring his left leg as he continued down the hall. They didn’t have an excuse for why an injury that was supposed to sideline him for months would abruptly be so completely healed, so he had to keep moving around like he was out of commission even though he was even stronger physically than he’d been before. Plus, it gave Hange plenty of time to poke and prod while Levi was still only doing the non-physical half of his duties.

...or plenty of time to try and orchestrate forcing Levi into a situation where he had to talk to Y/N. He’d have to be on guard against Hange’s sneakier methods the more desperate she became to make it happen.

*Reader’s POV*

If anyone could rival you in stubbornness, it was Levi. Once that man settled on something, really put his mind to it and committed, nothing was going to change it except some kind of earth-shaking event. This particular quality of his was becoming more and more apparent with every passing day the Captain went so far out of his way to avoid you.

It had already been blatantly obvious the kind of lengths he was willing to go to try and push you out of his life entirely when, during your recovery, he didn’t even sleep in his office while you were recovering. He’d retreated to another side of the castle entirely, and stubbornly stayed there until his door was fixed and lockable again, and you had recovered and been moved back to where you usually slept. Now, you were lucky to catch glimpses of him from a distance. He started supervising training at different times--specifically ones where you were busy elsewhere--and was in and out of the mess hall for his food either long before you arrived or too quickly to give you a chance to corner him, not that the mess hall was the place to be having the kind of conversation the two of you needed. If you tried to find him in his office, he never answered--somehow he always seemed to know that it was you on the other side of the door, even if someone else did the knocking and talking for you. Once, when you had decided to just walk in, you’d even heard the lock click as your hand touched the doorknob. That one had hurt.

Still, you understood what he was doing. From the moment you’d woken up and had that brief exchange with him, Levi’s intentions had been obvious. Afraid that you would get hurt, Levi was trying to put as much distance between the two of you so nothing similar could happen again.

Had you been hurt? Yes. Had he almost killed you? Definitely. Had you been afraid? Hell yes, even if your surprisingly level-headed approach to the situation had suggested differently. But after waking up bed-ridden with a decently lengthy recovery period ahead of you, you’d had plenty of time to really think about what happened and what you understood of it. Almost being killed by someone wasn’t an easy thing to overcome. When you’d first woken up, you’d admittedly still been in a sort of shock about what had happened, the events hadn’t really sunk in yet. But your recovery had given you the time you needed to struggle, shake, cry a little, and work through it all.

What Levi had done, while terrifying and deadly for you, had been unintentional, and fueled by a hunger he wasn’t used to, a hunger that had probably been amplified by his near-death state and that much harder for him to control. He’d lost all sense of himself, you’d seen it in his eyes the brief moment before he’d bitten into your neck. You couldn’t imagine what he’d felt when he did come back to himself. Hange had said that he’d been desperate, that she’d never seen him the way he was while trying to save your life. And now, seeing the lengths he was going to in order to protect you from himself, seeing how afraid he was that he was going to hurt you again...how could you not be willing to forgive him?

If you could just catch him and get the stubborn, stoic man to talk to you already.

You couldn’t let the conversation be postponed any longer. This was something the two of you needed to talk about, so you could fully forgive him, maybe he could start to forgive himself, and both of you could move forward. It would also be helpful for Levi to get assistance with whatever this was he was going through, but right now you were focused on the basics.

And because you still couldn’t catch Levi, even with a heads up from Hange allowing you to briefly glimpse him in the woman’s office, you were pushed to the drastic and admittedly stupid actions.

You had to catch him when he went to the Underground to feed.

Knowing what was happening to him, it wasn’t hard to piece together how he’d been feeding recently when no cases of dead bodies drained of blood popped up within the walls on the surface or among the Scouts. You also knew he wasn’t feeding on any willing participants yet--he was afraid of losing control, and with the three people who were aware of his situation being people he didn’t want to accidentally kill, he wouldn’t be drinking from anyone in the Scouts. Where would he go if he was looking for people who would disappear without causing ripples if he lost control? The Underground, as depressing as the truth of it was.

Except he had started to catch attention. Not directly, obviously, but rumors were starting to bubble, rumors about a shadowy figure that snatched the filth of the Underground into the darkness and left mangled bloodless corpses behind as the only evidence it had ever been there. Only a couple bodies had been found, but if Levi had to feed as frequently as his nightly excursions suggested, there were more.

You’d been keeping an eye out for him nightly, trying to figure out his feeding pattern since you’d been driven to this point, which was how you knew. It was how you were able to figure out the rough window of when he’d need to feed again, how you were able to catch sight of him slipping out of Headquarters when everyone should have been asleep, and how you knew where you needed to go in order to follow him into the depths of the Underground.

Though you weren’t entirely sure if it could necessarily be called following. With his speed, Levi was impossible to keep in sight. You knew which entrance to the Underground he used, and you could rationalize that he would be looking for unsavory elements in the back alleys of the Underground, but that was all you had to go off of. You’d have to hope that you could find Levi down there, in a place he knew far better than you, in the short span of time it took him to find someone, feed, and then return to headquarters. If you missed him completely, you’d be stuck wandering the Underground until morning or later, considering there wouldn’t be any sun to tell you morning had broke.

But this was the only option you had left. It wasn’t your best idea, and you found yourself jumping at shadows as you plunged deeper and deeper below ground, but you had to try.

He wasn’t going to do it, so you had to try.

You had to resist the urge to cover your nose with your hand in a feeble attempt to block out the smell as you started weaving your way through the dark streets of the Underground. You couldn’t imagine how Levi tolerated it even if he had lived down here once, considering his enhanced senses.

Feeling eyes on you, you shook off the idle thoughts, reminding yourself this was the worst place inside the walls to be alone, even with military training, and you clearly stood out down here. You couldn’t afford to get lost in thoughts right now, especially since you knew Levi was prowling through these dark streets somewhere looking for someone to feed on.

Even though you hadn’t thought it could, the further into the winding, dark back streets, the worse the conditions were. Abandoned houses rotted away, and the occasional body was shoved aside off the main path so people could keep walking. Occasionally something would move in the dark, and you could see dim eyes watching you from huddled masses curled up next to walls or trash heaps for some form of shelter. You did your best not to disturb them, stepping carefully and trying to keep pity from rising into your expression. You were here for one person right now, and you were on a time limit. There wasn’t time to spend feeling bad for locals you couldn’t help.

It was while you were stepping around one of these locals that you hadn’t seen curled up at the corner because they’d been so indistinguishable from the trash pile they’d been sleeping in that you momentarily lost sense of your larger surroundings a moment too long. Taking care to step around the corner and not on the person you’d almost tripped over, you initially missed the sight of a group of five men that had almost reached the neck of the alley you were stepping into. Registering movement in your peripherals, your head snapped up to take in the sight of the small group of large men, body tensing at the light you saw spark in their eyes when you saw each other.

Your first thought was not to go down that alley, then it was to not turn your back on them. It was a T intersection, though. You couldn’t turn around because there was too much ground to cover still, and you didn’t really want to make some kind of awkward shimmy down the alley in the same direction they seemed to be heading.

You didn’t get much time to think about it. They were too close for comfort, so you turned and continued down the alley, your steps faster, body tensed and limbs ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. You could feel them behind you, heard the whistles and jeers about a pretty little surfacer wandering into the slums.

This wasn’t going to end well. Especially if you took a wrong turn into a dead end like you were in some kind of cliché horror story.

You turned your head just enough to get a look at them, noting with unease that the fifth seemed to have broken away from the group. No doubt to try and cut you off--you weren’t stupid, and you were in the Scouts, of course you’d be able to figure out that much.

Best not to keep going in a straight line down the alley, then. Maybe, if you were lucky, you could lose them in the winding back alleys. They might have the home field advantage, but at least you wouldn’t make it easy for them if they did manage to corner you between the five of them.

The next time you saw a narrow alley on your right, you took a sudden, sharp turn, breaking into a run as soon as you were out of the immediate sight of the group. You heard them holler behind you just past the halfway point in the alley, the four also breaking into a run a few seconds before you made another right turn, a left, straight, another left, a right…

Maybe you should try to double back and get back to the surface. You’d stumbled into trouble, you were going to have to spend time shaking them, most likely Levi would have fed and would be leaving by the time you managed to go back to searching for him again. It was best to cut your losses and head back above ground, try to corner him again another time, another way. This hadn’t been a smart idea from the beginning, but now it was much, much worse.

You could hear that group still pursuing you, more spread out now as they used their numbers to their advantage, just as you’d expected them to. And it seemed they’d sent the fastest ahead to try and cut you off, because as you turned the corner for another right turn, you could see one of them pop out of an alley a few ahead of you, already heading for you as you bolted into another side alley.

They were getting too close for comfort. And this one was staying on your ass like an abnormal in an open field.

Halfway down an annoyingly long and slightly wider alley, that one man still on your tail, a second appeared at the other end of the alley. He grinned when he saw you running straight for him, ripping one of the boards off the window of the abandoned house in the alley and holding it like a club.

You didn’t slow down, already taking in his form, mind going through the many disarming motions you’d been taught, some by Levi himself after you’d shown some promise in training. The smile diminished when you didn’t falter, but the second man stood his ground, waiting for you to get within reach.

You were waiting for the same moment.

As he pulled back to swing, you shifted to the side, grabbing at his arm with a pull, a twist upwards, a knee into his gut before you came down on his leg, shoving him aside with your upper body to send him staggering into the wall with a pained cry. His board clattered to the ground as the one who had been right behind you suddenly tackled you to the ground, your knees coming up to your chest in the fall so you could push him up and over your head once your back hit the stone. You all got back to your feet at roughly the same time, the two now between you and the mouth of the alley, and you knew there had to be about three somewhere behind you, so you needed to go forward, through these two assholes.

You put your hands up and fell into an at-the-ready stance.

Back to training, then.

You could practically feel Levi’s eyes on you on the training field, one of the only recruits who didn’t say a word of complaint about being taught to handle armed opponents even past basic training, when the Scouts were supposed to be fighting Titans, not humans. You took it seriously, actually put in the effort, actively listened to instructions and critiques, and didn’t utter a word of complaint.

Why the hell would you complain about being taught to protect yourself?

Now it seemed it was a good thing that had been the attitude you’d approached those lessons with, because you were going to need them.

One of them threw themselves at you with a shout and you side-stepped, pushing him past you with the help of his own momentum so you could focus on the guy who was trying to bring a fist down on your head, you leaned back just out of its path, stepped forward with your left, and brought your own fist in for a quick overhand punch with your right that connected with the man’s jaw. The first came in from behind you again, an arm slipping around your neck--you’d thought you had another few seconds before you’d have to face him again, hoping he’d fallen on his face. You leaned forward as much as you could and dropping one shoulder, sending the slim runner over your shoulder with his momentum to grab you from behind, stepping back and to the side with your other foot as he tumbled over you. Your arms came back up just in time to block another punch from the other guy with your arm, your other hand flashing out to nail him in the nose with enough force to hear a satisfying crack before you jumped back.

Another ripping sound similar to when the bigger guy of the two you were facing had ripped off a board came from the end of the alley you had entered behind you, and you turned long enough to see a third guy pulling off a smaller board with a little more effort.

Three on one in a back alley, now. You needed to get out of here, fast, before the rest could catch up.

Not wanting someone behind you again, you shifted, standing at the ready with your back to the wall between the two on the one end and the one on the other, coiled and ready to see who would come at you first. The one with the board charged you, prompting you to turn enough to face him, eyeing the board that was held high and swinging towards you as he came within range.

You caught the board, cutting your thumb open on a jagged edge in the process but keeping your grip firm as the force caused your arms to fold against your chest. With the man now within range, you pulled back just enough to give yourself enough room to kick him in the stomach, giving a push against the board at the same time to make sure he was send backwards. Knowing the other two would be trying to grab you from behind, you turned swiftly, bending your arm and swinging around sharply with your elbow connecting with whichever one had reached you first. You didn’t get the chance to see who it was before a shot suddenly rang out, shocking you enough you hesitated and were grabbed by the arm by the larger of your original two opponents.

Looking towards the other side of the alley you could see the other two members of the group had caught up, with one handing the still-smoking one shot pistol to the other, who was also giving him a second you were sure was already loaded and ready. It was probably safe to assume the one who had fired a shot into the air was the leader, and he was now approaching slowly, the other man hanging back to reload the little pistol.

What the hell kind of a job and black market deal did these guys have to pull off to get their hands on two pistols?

You tried to twist out of the hold on your arm, but even in the dark of the alley you could see the glint of the loaded pistol well enough to tell you it was leveled directly at your head, making you still. Another one of your original three attackers grabbed your other arm, the large man kicking the back of your leg to force you into a kneeling position.

“You’re quite the scrapper, aren’t you? Almost more trouble than you’re worth,” the leader mused, coming to stand directly in front of you. You tensed, pulling against the firm hands that held your arms and shoulders to force you into your kneeling position. As you struggled, the leader brought the barrel of the gun to hover directly and unmistakably in front of your face, causing you to still again. “I don’t like wasting bullets, so if you don’t want to die messy, I suggest you stay still in case I decide to just shoot you.”

“Boss, the whole point of chasing her down was to have a little fun with her!” the one who’d managed to stay on your ass during the chase complained. He sounded winded.

“At first, but after seeing all that? She might be able to overpower us if we keep her alive. You want to risk her breaking free long enough to kill you, idiot?” When no one made another complaint, the leader pressed the barrel of the gun against your forehead. “Such a waste, too. Sorry, Swee--”

Hands wrapped around the leader’s throat and one of his shoulders, so suddenly you weren’t sure you’d really seen it. However, the fact that he was suddenly yanked into the shadows without a warning let you know you had seen them. There was a visceral snapping sound a split second after the man had been grabbed, and before anyone could react, he was spat back out of the shadows as swiftly as they’d claimed him, thrown to the ground within sight of everyone, his neck snapped and body crumpled like a fallen handkerchief.

A feral snarl sounded from the darkness, and chaos erupted all around you.

*Levi’s POV*

Levi’s fingers threaded through the hair of tonight’s prey in a relentless grip, pressing their head down and into the ground while his other hand pulled their shoulder aside, leaving their neck stretched and exposed for him to sink his teeth into with little resistance. They had stopped struggling long ago, the kicks and futile punches and pushed now absent, the trembling beneath him slowing to a complete stop. He was able to drink deeply and undisturbed, hidden in the dark shadows of a dead end alley, the only sounds the occasional soft hum of pleasure and the sound of his teeth sinking deeper into flesh as he drank. He focused on the sounds to drown out the rest of the Underworld, the pulse he'd originally listened to long gone.

He was starting to consciously enjoy it when he fed...and even picking the scum of the Underground to prey on, he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

A loud sharp, familiar sound broke through Levi's filter, causing him to jerk back, head looking up towards the ceiling and tilted in the direction he'd heard the gunshot. A rush of sounds and smells suddenly rushed towards him again now that he'd been abruptly jostled out of his feed, overwhelming him while he wiped some of the blood from his face and tried to sort through the sensory mess once more and find the source of a gunshot, head pounding. The only people who were going to have guns down here were military and a lucky criminal who'd scored rather big--not ODM gear big, but still.

As he was trying to filter out the sound, the faintest whiff of a strong, familiar scent reached him. After being bathed in it the night he'd transformed, he would never mistake that scent for anything else. Y/N's blood. And it had to have been spilled if he was able to smell her through the stench of the Underground.

What the hell was she doing down here?

Focusing on that scent and trying to hear what was near her at the same time, Levi slowly rose to his feet, eyes closed as he focused. He could smell gunpowder in the air as well, could hear a concentration of heartbeats, most pounding from exertion, but one that possessed the familiar scent pounding faster from exertion and fear. Then came the distant voices.

"...don’t want to die messy, I suggest you stay still in case I decide to just shoot you."

Dammit.

Levi was moving before he could finish putting together what was happening, focused on closing the distance between where he'd been and where Y/N was in danger before another gunshot could be fired. The man who’d fired the shot was still talking with someone, making it easier for Levi to narrow down where they were. He stayed in the shadows even with his speed, making sure that he kept the element of surprise so that he could be sure to kill whoever had the gun first, before they had the chance to shoot again.

He could smell her blood, too. Did that mean she’d already been shot? How bad was her wound? If he got too close, could he resist?

He’d worry about that when he got there.

As soon as the scene of five men gathered around Y/N came into view, with one of them pressing the barrel of a pistol against her forehead, Levi’s blood boiled into a blind rage. The shadows around him blurred as he rushed forward, grabbing the man with the gun and pulling him into the shadows. He noticed there was a second man reloading the pistol that must have made the first shot, so he made his kill quick, snapping the man’s neck and pushing the body away without a second thought. The other armed man wildly swung around with the gun when he saw the dead body, a snarl ripping past Levi’s lips as he barreled into the armed man, sending him flying and colliding with the wall of once of the buildings he heard bones snapping as he was sent through the wall. Instincts taking over, including his newly acquired, monstrous ones, Levi went after one of the two men restraining Y/N next, moving too fast for the group of five to have even hope to react in defense.

Pulling the large man into the shadows and away from Y/N, effectively breaking his grip on her, Levi sank his teeth into the man’s neck, blood flowing free and unrestrained as he tore into the man’s throat with the intent to kill. He was able to drink quite a bit in the process, only because he didn’t let go until the man’s pulse started to stutter beneath his lips and he was sure the blood loss alone would kill him.

Looking at the two remaining, Y/N had taken the chance with their stunned state and the fact she only had one person holding onto her now to attack the other man restraining her. She didn’t look hurt in the slightest as she pulled her restrainer towards her and kneed him in the gut, but he could still smell the blood she’d spilled at some point.

At the moment, however, his attention was drawn to the second still standing man who was now trying to attack Y/N from behind while she was busy with her restrainer. Levi rushed the second man as well, not bothering to hide in the shadows now as he ripped into the slender man’s throat just as he’d done to Y/N’s other restrainer, waiting until the pulse stuttered and the blood loss turned fatal before he dropped the body to the ground and turned to face the last man.

Y/N had knocked him to the ground by now, the man staring in horror at Levi. He must have been quite the sight. When he’d fed before this mess, he’d only had blood on his face, neck, and around his collar, since he was gradually improving with how messy he was when he fed. Now, however, after ripping out two throats, the blood stained his front as well. His eyes glowed a vivid crimson and pierced through the dark of the alley, fangs flashing as he licked away a thicker trail of blood while he approached the last man. Levi grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, picking him up with ease and pinning him against the wall.

“Demon--” the man hardly managed to squeak out. Something in Levi burned at the accusation, his grip on the man’s shirt tightening.

No witnesses, no loose ends. Unless he wanted his situation public legend or knowledge, depending on how much people were willing to believe.

Without a word, Levi sank his teeth into the man’s throat, covering the man’s mouth with his hand to muffle the screams even though they didn’t last long. As he drank and the pulse below his lips eventually slowed to a stop, Levi listened and thought about what he would do next.

The only other sounds in the alley came from behind him, from Y/N. She hadn’t moved, was hardly breathing, her heartbeat wild from adrenaline and a sense of fear, and it only seemed to be beating faster as she watched him drain the life from her last attacker.

What the hell had possessed her to make her think that following Levi into the Underground when he came here to feed was a good idea? The Underground was already dangerous, especially at night, especially with something like him lurking in the darkness looking for a meal. Her foolhardy determination to blow past his insistence they not be anywhere near one another was going to get her killed--it nearly had.

Levi felt his blood chill, even if he was still drinking in fresh warm blood. What would happen next? How many more reckless ideas would she get, how much farther was she going to push? Was she really willing to push her luck until she died while he was trying to keep her safe from him? What did he have to do to make her back off, for her to realize how serious this was, that she couldn’t be anywhere near him, that she couldn’t follow after him like this? Did he have to scare her off? At this rate, it was the only thing he could think of that might actually work. But how far was he willing to go to scare her enough to protect her? At the moment, she already had some fear lingering in her. If he didn’t wait too long, he could work with it; there might be a chance that he wouldn’t have to do too much if she was already afraid. He just had to scare her a little one time to make her leave him alone.

He was a little dizzy at the moment, feeling almost drunk on the sheer volume of blood he’d just consumed in such a short span of time. He could muscle through it, though. Ride the high just long enough to do what he had to.

Steeling his resolve, Levi released the now limp body in his arms, rushing Y/N and pinning her against the wall with a hand around her throat. His fangs were bared, eyes still glowing crimson, fresh blood still smeared across his face and front as he snarled. His thumb was placed strategically on her pulse point, able to feel as her heartbeat doubled its speed. He was trying to subtly watch her reaction to know when he’d done enough, his thumb tracing lightly along the vein on her neck, but not biting yet. She was tense, holding her breath, heartbeat racing wildly, and yet...after the first few seconds…

She let out a slow, shaking breath, her heartbeat starting to gradually and slightly calm down.

“You’re just trying to scare me. It’s not going to work, Levi.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he let his fingers tilt her neck to the side, well aware that he was pushing his limits, playing a dangerous game in his attempt to convince her that if she didn’t stay away from him, he’d kill her. His lips brushed against her neck, his fangs feeling like they were aching in desperation to sink into her neck. He could remember what she tasted like--he hadn’t had anything better, since. Only the scum of the Underground that left a chemically, filthy aftertaste in his mouth. But her…

He struggled against those thoughts, willing himself not to give into them. He didn’t want to bite her, not really. He just wanted to scare her.

They were both perfectly still, neither of them even breathing loudly or heavily, just tense, each waiting for the other to make a move. What was she thinking? Was she trying to call his bluff? Did she believe he wouldn’t bite her? Was she thinking of last time she’d bet on his restraint, how it had been thrown back in her face when he almost killed her? Was she trying to figure out how far he’d go to make her stay away? Was she trying to decide if he would really bite her again to make her run?

He was wondering the same thing. He’d pretty much sworn that he wouldn’t bite her again for any reason, and yet, he found himself in a position where a warning bite seemed like an option, just enough to make her realize he was serious, just enough to scare her off...but he didn’t trust his control once he started drinking from her. Especially now, smelling the heady aroma of her blood again, so much better than what he’d been feeding on down here in the Underground for a while now. But did the risk really outweigh the possible result? He had just drained four fairly big men of their blood, maybe he’d had enough it wouldn’t be too hard to stop...maybe. Did he really want to take that risk, to hurt her once again even if it was only a little, for the chance he might finally make her run away from him instead of towards him, so she’d be safe?

He waited a moment too long. Without warning, Y/N suddenly pushed him back, and Levi gave easily against the action, backing away a few steps and looking away. He had hardly put any of his strength into the motion, only meaning to scare, not harm her, wanting her to be able to push him away and bolt when he finally scared her enough to make her run. Clearly, she’d seen right through his actions and to his true intention.

His fangs retracted, the crimson in his eyes fading to a simple red glint, and he was suddenly quite conscious of the fact that he was covered in blood. Knowing it wouldn��t do him much good but wanting to make the attempt anyway, he tried wiping some of the blood from his face, refusing to look at Y/N as he did so.

He could run, but it wouldn’t do him any good. This talk was apparently inevitable, even if he deemed it inconsequential, pointless. She wasn’t going to change his mind. He’d already decided to cut her out--it was better for both of them if he did, rather than drag her down any further into this...mess.

“If you’re thinking of making a run for it, don’t,” she warned, as if she could read him as easily as a book. The fact he chose to look down the dark alley instead of at her probably gave the idle thought he’d had away.

“Why the hell are you down here?” he growled instead of addressing her accusation.

“It’s your fault I am! How else was I supposed to try and catch you to talk with you running from me like a kid instead of a grown ass man--”

“I’m not running from you, I told you to stay away from me from the start. You’re the one who apparently didn’t get the message,” Levi returned in a low tone.

“Oh, I heard you, I just chose to ignore it because you’re being--”

“If you end that sentence with what I think you’re about to--”

“What? What are you going to do, Levi? Just because you don’t like hearing what I have to say, because you know its true?”

Anger was bubbling up inside him with rapidly multiplying strength. He was trying to push it down, to clamp down on it for both their sakes, but it was a struggle he was losing the longer this argument went on. He could tell she was frustrated even though he still hadn’t looked at her, that she was hurt, that it was bubbling up as well and that was why she was so aggressive at the moment, but he didn’t care. Every word she threw at him, no matter how cutting, only stoked that anger right now.

“--damn it, Levi, look at me, will you?”

She flinched back from the anger in his eyes when he finally met her gaze, the red glint in his eyes growing stronger. He took the chance to throw in a few sharp words of his own.

“You’re the one acting worse than a child. At least a child’s ignorant when they stick their hand in the fire. You’re the dumbass that tries to jump feet first to see if its hot no matter how many times you’ve been burned before. A fucking incompetant idiot with a death wish is what you are!”

He’d never called her incompetant or incapable in any way before. Before all this happened, she hadn’t been, he hadn’t been worried about her being able to handle herself, hadn’t thought that it would be a stupid decision or a hasty, rash action that got her killed. Now, he was afraid her pigheadedness was going to lead to her getting killed because of him, directly or, after tonight, indirectly.

That was the other emotion swirling inside him under all the anger. Fear.

She stuck out her chin in defiance, though he saw a flash of pain in her eyes at his words that were spoken with a harsh tone that let her know it wasn’t just his gruff exterior talking. “Trying to shove me out isn’t going to work when I know that’s what you’re doing, Levi.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Levi snapped. “What part of ‘stay away from me or you’ll get hurt again’ did you not understand? What about me almost killing you the other night didn’t get through your head and trigger some common sense? How could you not understand the words I will kill you? I don’t want you anywhere near me, Y/N--”

“I already have been hurt, Levi! I’m already a part of this, and I want to help, what part of that don’t you understand?”

“The part where you suddenly became so intent to fucking die!” he snarled.

Even more infuriatingly, she ignored that exclamation and tried to switch to her version of cold facts. “You’re still not in control,” she said flatly, and Levi turned his back on her, already starting to walk away. She simply followed, still talking. “You’re not! You’re coming down here and ripping people to shreds, past recognition. You still don’t know how to control your bloodlust when you feed! What happens when someone gets wounded on an expedition and they’re bleeding all over the place in front of you? What happens if for some reason you lose control and you bite the wrong person? What are you going to do, Levi? Can you say that you’re going to stop, really? With the bodies you’ve been leaving that’s already getting you a shadowy reputation below and above ground? No!”

“None of this has anything to do with you. It’s not about you, its not effecting you, its not your problem, Y/N. You’re just desperately trying to insert yourself to feel important,” he spat out. He didn’t believe the last part, but he just wanted her to go away, to leave him alone like he’d asked. His hands were clenched into fists to hide the tremble, teeth clenched--

“I’m trying to help you because I want to. Its not that hard to understand, Levi. You need help, like it or not. You can’t keep attracting attention by feeding like this. You need to find someone who’s willing so you don’t have to keep feeding like this and to help you learn control, and you already know I--”

He blocked her out after that. Stopping in the middle of his angry prowl through the dark alleys, body rigid, hands flexing in and out of fists. His mind called back the intoxicating nature of her blood, how easy it had been to lose himself, the blood all over himself and the bed and drained from her body, how close she came to dying before a wild guess and a futile prayer managed to be just enough to bring her back from the brink. She wanted that to happen again? To offer her blood just for him to lose himself and drain her dry? He couldn’t remember how she’d struggled or plead with him because it was a euphoric haze in his mind, but he’d felt his prey down here struggle for their lives, heard them plead before he cut off or muffled their cries. His stomach lurched, threatening to send him forwards as his mind fabricated the vivid image of Y/N struggling in his grasp and gasping for him to stop as he drained her dry, too far gone to even flinch in reaction to her dying moments. He wouldn’t let it happen. He wouldn’t. He refused, and no matter what he had to do, he wasn’t going to let it become reality, he wasn’t going to set up her pointless death by giving in. He had to make her run from him now and never look back, had to make her see that he could and would hurt her--kill her--if she kept going down this path. Now. While he was still so gorged on blood he could stop himself out of raw satisfaction with all he’d drank.

“You’re so desperate for me to feed off of you again,” he said in a steady tone, interrupting whatever she’d been saying after he’d blocked her out. “Fine.”

Once more, Levi pinned her against the wall. Except this time he wasn’t gentle about it, and this time his grip didn’t give her even a hair’s breath of space to move. His hand was firmly on her throat and angling her head upwards, the crimson in his eyes blazing once again with enough infuriated intensity he could see the glint of their glow reflected in her wide eyes.

“Let me remind you what you’re in for.”

Before he could second guess, before doubts could encroach, before he even had the chance to weigh the consequences, Levi bit down on her collar. Hard. She cried out in pain, the sound cut off when he squeezed her throat just enough to make her quiet. The blood didn’t come nearly as easily as it would have if he’d bitten her neck, but that was part of the reason he’d bitten here instead. Still, even after drinking from four people minutes ago, her blood tasted divine compared to the blood he’d been drinking in the Underground, the euphoria from last time starting to return.

Without the need for blood, Levi’s struggle to ignore the euphoria was a little easier, and no matter how much it hurt, Levi focused on every other part of Y/N to try and stave off the haze long enough.

She was trying to push him off--not that it was doing anything to stop him. He could feel her pulse rapidly picking up pace, his grip almost bruising and keeping her firmly pinned against the wall. She kept telling him to stop, to get off, called his name. He heard every word. It cut like shards of glass burrowing into his heart and lungs, blood still flowing past his lips with his teeth sinking relentlessly into her flesh. He didn’t stop.

The commands turned to pleas. The shoves turned to blows that wouldn’t even bruise him. He kept her pinned against the wall, eyes burning but closed, teeth embedded in her collar, his grip tight both to hold her in place but also because of the coiling tension inside him listening to her plead with him to let her go. He still didn’t stop.

Then he tasted it. Felt it in her pulse and her posture, in the hot tears that fell on his face and neck. Heard it in her voice. True fear. Normally, in a twisted way, it made blood taste better, somehow richer. Now, it was almost acidic, leaving a nasty aftertaste as Levi finally, instantly let her go. The abrupt motion made her crumple to the ground with a sob…

But by the time she’d have enough cognitive thought to look up, he would already be gone. As soon as he let her go he walked away. He didn’t have a destination in mind, didn’t pick a direction to head to eventually get back to the surface. He simply walked, wiping the blood from his face again with trembling hands, eyes unseeing the paths he followed even if he was subconsciously using his other senses to guide him away from anyone who was still out in the streets this late at night. It was like he was in a daze, walking without thinking, without seeing, without any sense of direction. The longer he didn’t think, the better, because if he started thinking again, if he thought about it, if he thought, if he…

Where was he even going? Where was he now? He was alone, at least...completely.

His body shuddered, as if in anticipation as the daze started to pass, some part of him getting him to whisper a soft ‘shit’ before the thoughts started to rush towards him. He tried to stave them off a few moments longer.

I had to do it.

I had to.

I had to, for her sake.

For her sake, I...

He kept trying to repeat the thought enough to convince himself. His hand reached out to steady himself against the nearest wall. His shaking hands clenched into fists.

I had to do it, I had to, I had to.

His face was wet. Not just with blood--he could see pinkish drops of hot tears escape from the tip of his nose and the edge of his jaw and chin. His teeth ground painfully together, jaw feeling like it would snap from the pressure as he leaned against the wall his fist had been pressed against, feeling his shoulder start to slowly slide downwards in halting bursts.

I...I had...

It felt like someone had gutted him. Now, as he started to come out of his haze, he felt hollow, as if an amature had gutted him with a dull blade and simply took everything. Everything except a suddenly overwhelming self-hatred that pierced and burned through him from the inside out, causing short gasps to burst past his lips despite the instinctual effort to keep it all in.

I made the wrong choice.

He shouldn’t have done it, but he did. He’d really sunk this low, and he hated himself all the more because of it. He should never have let himself make that choice. He knew it was wrong, that was why it had gutted him even as he’d done it, he knew, but he did it anyway.

Why? Why?

Am I really that desperate?

If I’m really this desperate, was she really wr--

No.

No...no, he’d made his choice. It was done, it was over. He’d knowingly hurt her to make her afraid of him, to make her leave, and she wasn’t ever going to look at him the same way again. Just like he’d wanted so desperately to do in the moment.

The damage was done.

He had to accept it.

He had to live with it now, no matter how much it hurt him.

He’d done it to himself.

He’d done it to them.

And he couldn’t take it back.

It was far too late for that.

*Reader’s POV*

Nights had become a ritual of terror for you.

Every night, without fail, this very thing happened.

The lights were out, like they were supposed to be, so there wasn’t a fire, so occupants could sleep, because it was night. Yet you stood frozen in place in the dark, the heat of the lamp dissipating the longer you stood frozen in place, staring into the darkness around you. It was your room, but it felt like something sinister was watching you in the shadows. And as soon as that thought crossed your mind, they were there. Vivid and crimson, glowing from the shadows, freezing you in place as the demonic eyes pierced fear straight to your core. Your chest tightened, breaths coming in shallow, painful bursts as your gaze locked with them.

You knew, logically, they weren’t there, but that didn’t change the fact that you saw them, didn’t change the sweat that dampened your skin, the chill that wouldn’t leave you, the struggle to breath, the inability to move, the unbridled fear they caused.

Lighting lamps to try and cast out the darkness for a little while was the obvious first choice, but it only made things worse. They couldn’t light every corner, the dim light making the shadows longer and the darkness more prominent where the light couldn’t reach it. Every time you let one of those shadowy corners slip into your peripherals it looked like there was someone right behind you, looming to attack. And the lamps couldn’t stay on all night.

The only thing left was to blow out the lights so a fire couldn’t start, hiding under the covers like some frightened child before the fear could paralyze you. The blanket was pulled over your head, your trembling yet rigidly tense body curled into a fetal position with your eyes squeezed shut. Your mind relentlessly conjured up the image of fangs flashing towards you, those red eyes burning as they grew closer and closer to where you were huddled helplessly under a sheet in complete darkness.

But opening your eyes was worse. Opening your eyes you’d have to face the darkness, and your mind whispered that once you opened them, your nightmares would be real, that you’d see the dark figure with the red eyes and the bloody fangs right in front of you, and as soon as you saw them, they’d attack. With your eyes closed you could feel them there, but they still hadn’t touched you. If you opened your eyes, it was over. You couldn’t stand staring at the open dark of your room, without knowing what was hiding within.

And this wasn’t just your nightly ritual. Even in the day you saw the eyes in your peripherals, in the shadowy places, glimpsed in passing and making you jump at shadows.

And if you did manage to fall asleep at night...the nightmares came. Nightmares where you could feel it all again, could see just those damn crimson eyes, could feel the teeth sinking repeatedly into your flesh until you woke with strangled screams and muffled sobs, futility struggling to recover some sense of composure.

What made it worse was you didn’t have the comfort of being told it was just a dream, just your mind playing tricks on you, that none of it was real.

Your nightmares had already been real once. Who was to say they wouldn’t become real again?

*Levi’s POV*

Headquarters was perfectly quiet. The only sound was the occasional snore, soft, steady heartbeats, and breathing of most people in the building fast asleep. The sounds he made in the kitchen as he went about making a cup of tea seemed loud in comparison, even if he knew for a fact that he was the only one who could hear them.

His insomnia had been relentless for days now, only able to catch snippets of uneasy rest in bursts that didn’t even amount to an hour on their own. It was why he was down here now, water starting to bubble in a kettle, the mixture for a chamomile tea at the ready. If he didn’t find a way to sleep, soon, he’d have to ask Hange to help him--he was that desperate for a solution.

Not that she would want to help him.

Hange opened and shut the door with a resounding slam that made cadets in the hall freeze as she stormed into Levi’s office, glasses propped atop her head to clearly display the unbridled anger in her eyes. ”What the hell did you do?”

He knew why he couldn’t sleep, but he didn’t know what else to do.

“I treated the bite, Levi. I know what happened.”

Once he heard the water bubbling in the kettle, Levi went about slowly pouring the water into his cup, eyes unfocused as his thoughts came back to plague him in the silence of the kitchen.

”She followed me into the Underground, Hange. I just gave her a scare so she would finally stay away like I told her to.”

“Oh, you did more than that.”

“...What are you talking about?”

“Shit,” he cursed, yanking his hand back as he spilled some of the hot water onto his hand, setting the kettle down a little too roughly, trying to clean up the mess and ignore the burning in his hand.

“Have you seen Y/N lately?”

“No, and I don’t expect to, if she finally listened.”

“Keep up that attitude, Levi, and I’ll skewer you; I know you’ll heal. You went too far, Levi.”

He’d been picking up the too-full tea cup, and as Hange’s words from the memory pierced him far deeper with his recently acquired knowledge, his grip tightened, and the cup shattered under his hand. Flesh burning from the hot tea, herbs smearing against the now fresh wounds in his hands, crimson blending into the only temporarily yellowish orange liquid as the blood spilled down his hands, and bits of the cup stuck in his hand, while the rest lay shattered on the floor.

”She forgave you for the first one, and for good reason. But this?”

--Late at night, just beyond the stone of the wall, behind two simple wooden doors, Levi could hear the only other occupant in the castle that was awake right now. Her heartbeat was erratic with unbridled terror and emotional pain. It had been her strangled scream that only Levi could hear that had pierced the quiet of Headquarters, the scream now reduced to muffled, body wracking sobs into a pillow or a blanket.--

Levi kneeled down in front of his mess, still-injured hands reaching out to try to pick up the shattered cup, to gather up the broken pieces, to clean up his mess. He kept cutting his hands again, though. He didn’t know how, he knew how to be careful, knew how to be gentle so he didn’t cut himself, didn’t break anything further. But right now, he kept drawing more blood, kept inflicting fresh wounds on his hands and watching the small ones heal almost too fast to even notice they were there while the garish pieces sticking out of his hand and openly bleeding still showed, glaring at him in the dim lighting.

”Erwin’s already mentioned he might have to dismiss her as unfit for duty. We both know she didn’t have anything else besides the Scouts before, and now...”

The damn cup was broken. He didn’t even know why he was trying to recover each little piece, like he was actually going to try and reassemble it, like he could somehow fix it. The cup was broken and he couldn’t fix it.

It’s broken, and he can’t fix it.

Broken, and he can’t fix it.

Broken, and can’t fix it.

Broken…

Broken...

”Levi, stop, please!”

--He was alone in the hall. His lips were parted, but no sound came out, eyes half lidded, but glinting bright and wet in the moonlight with unrestrained pain, head leaning back against the stone with his chin tilted upwards towards the sky. The sobs continued through the stone behind him, and he let out a slow, shaking breath before he slowly pushed away from the wall--

“Fuck!” Levi suddenly shouted, hand slamming against the mess in front of him, hand slicing open even further as more shards of the cup found its way into his hand or shattered even further from the force of the blow. Blood dripped steadily onto his mess, painting everything that same, garish color, staining everything he touched.

He grabbed at the wrist of his injured hand, only then realizing his hands had been shaking the entire time.

”Levi, please!”

--he ducked his head low and tried not to hear the sobs that were already resounding mercilessly in his head, blending into the darkness with ease while his hand trailed absently along the stone as he walked away.

Next Part--->

Levi Tags: @humanitys-hottestsoldier @clary-quinn @sunny-flo

Investment Series Tags: @regalillegal @cecldcecld

Vampire Levi Tags: @mysteriousmagicx @thesilencebeforeastorm @super-peace-fangirl @psychiccvampire

64 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 4 years ago

Text

Duality, Chapter 1 (Crygi) - Metaluna

chapter summary: On a night at the bar, Gigi meets someone who completely changes her focus, causing her to take a deep look at herself, as well as her own humanity.

A/N: Hey, everyone! I had some very positive feedback, which makes me very happy, since I am having so much fun with this. Follow my Tumblr for headcannons, drabbles that don’t fit, and me screaming about this fic at 4 AM

A huge thank you as always to juno for being the best beta reader, amazing brainstormer, and just an all around amazing person

The entire fic is going to have a TW for blood/death/gore/violence, since it’s a vampire fic lol

93 year later

Visitations were Gigi’s least favorite part of her job. Normally, she made Jackie sit through them, because consoling humans in one of their most vulnerable states made them look even more pathetic than they already were. Anytime one of them would wail uncontrollably while looking at the body of their grandma, she had to hold back an eyeroll. If only they knew what the alternative to death was.

Gigi hadn’t fed in a while, calculating mentally, she realized it had been five days since her last feeding. Normally she didn’t wait that long, but she had double the work since Jackie just had to take her wife on vacation. Again. For the third time that month. As she clenched her fist as hard as she could, she had to maintain laser-sharp focus, or she’d drain every individual in the room.

Without realizing it, Gigi was impatiently tapping her foot as she rubbed the smooth surface of her necklace with her thumb. When that didn’t distract her from her thirst, she clenched her fist hoping the sensation of pain would distract her.

“Are you okay?” one of the family members, the daughter Gigi presumed asked kindly.

“Fine,” Gigi said through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know how you can do this job. I could never see death every day. You made her look really good, though. It’s like she’s sleeping.”

Even though Gigi would love to suck the woman dry, she took pride in her work. “Thank you. Excuse me, I’ll be back in a moment.”

The second Gigi made her way into the prep room, she exhaled sharply. In the back of the cabinet containing embalming fluid was an insulated lunchbox with a thermos in it. Normally, the blood of the bodies made its way into the drain on the sewers. To a vampire, that was a complete waste of sustenance. Although blood from a dead body was the equivalent of drinking flat soda that had been left in the sun for three days after being dehydrated, it was enough to tide her over until she could hunt.

Opening the lid of the thermos, she felt her fangs protrude. Greedily, she drank every drop she could manage. Examining her appearance in the mirror, she returned the lunchbox to the cabinet.

“Thanks, Mrs. Hollinger,” Gigi murmured as the door slammed shut behind her.

“Everything all good?” Jackie, who was in the lobby, asked.

As much as Gigi didn’t want to have someone work with her at the funeral home, she didn’t have a choice. Even a vampire couldn’t single handedly run a business. It wasn’t that Gigi didn’t like Jackie. She didn’t like anyone with a heartbeat. Of all the people who responded to her job listing, Jackie was the only applicant that wasn’t incessantly irritating. Plus, she was good at what she did. Granted, she wasn’t as good at Gigi, but no one was.

Coming down from the wave of euphoria from feeding, Gigi said, “I left my phone in the prep room. Got it now.”

Jackie raised an eyebrow. “Okay. I can finish the visitation if you want to do the rest of the reports.”

What Gigi appreciated most about Jackie other than the fact that she did her job well, was that she knew that Gigi hated visitations. Never had Gigi been so thankful to be doing paperwork.

Before she knew it, five o’clock rolled around, which meant the visitation was over, and it was time to close for the evening. Gigi was up to her eyeballs in embalming reports, she didn’t even realize until Jackie knocked on her office door.

“Do you want me to lock up?” Jackie asked.

“No, I got it. Go get dinner with your wife.” Gigi had worked with Jackie long enough to know that every Thursday, Jackie and her wife, Jan went to dinner.

“Thank you Gigi. See you tomorrow!”

“Have a good evening.”

It wasn’t until Gigi looked down at her palm that she realized how hard she’d clenched her fist earlier in the day. Distinct marks were left behind by each of her nails, but disappeared as she rubbed her palm with her opposite hand. She needed to feed, and as soon as possible. Locking up only took a few minutes, thankfully, and Gigi’s apartment was within walking distance.

Right as Gigi unlocked her door, she was greeted by her cat, who rubbed against her legs. “Hi, Akasha.”

She stood in front of her bathroom mirror as she tried to make her makeup look a little bit more appropriate for someone trying to find company at a bar by lining her eyes heavily with liner, making her blue eyes look all the more brighter. On nights she wanted to feel good about herself, she’d wear tight dresses that left nothing to the imagination. Tonight though, she was so ravenous she changed into the first outfit that wasn’t business casual, a black flowing top with a pair of skin-tight jeans.

“I’ll be home late, don’t wait up for me, baby girl,” she said to Akasha petting her head.

In her 115 years, there were few things she hated as much as bars. Watching couples grind against each other disgusted Gigi. The only thing that she found slightly entertaining was watching men shoot their shot with women, only to be rejected. If she could get headaches, she knew the pounding bassline from uncreative, manufactured pop music would cause one. Although, she had to admit, getting called sooo pretty by drunk girls was validating.

Gigi stood with her back against the bar. Scanning the room, she tried to find an easy target. Some vampires had preferences between male or female victims. Gigi leaned toward men most often, as their vessels were larger, making it much easier to get the most blood possible the fastest, but tonight it didn’t matter. She’d waited too long to feed. In her hunt, she didn’t notice the most perfect target standing right next to her.

The woman was unlike anyone Gigi had ever seen, which was really saying something. Her wild hair was wild, like a bright blue lion’s mane. Her makeup, while done well, was completely outlandish. It was although she tried to challenge herself to use every shade in an eyeshadow palette. The woman’s appearance alone was unusual, but it was her clothing that truly caught Gigi’s eye. Although Gigi wasn’t one for fashion, she was fairly certain no one should be mixing as many patterns as she was.

“Hey,” the girl greeted.

“Hi,” Gigi said curtly.

“Can I get you a drink?” the girl shouted over the music.

Gigi shook her head. “I have to drive later.”

The girl leaned against the bar as Gigi did as she smoothly rubbed against Gigi’s hand, which she held. Never in her years hunting people at bars had anyone made the first move. Everyone was intimidated by her, which is something that she enjoyed. She had to admit, the girl’s boldness was endearing. To keep up with appearances, Gigi held the girl’s hand, rubbing small circles with her thumb.

“I’m Crystal.”

“Gigi.”

Shit.

Every time she introduced herself to someone she was about to feed on, she never used her real name. That was one of the first things Nicky told her all those years ago. Why now was she making such a simple mistake?

“Do you want to get out of here?”

If only this girl knew she was walking to her death.

Gigi took Crystal’s hand and led her to the alley behind the bar. Generally, Gigi used either the charisma she possessed naturally, or glamoured people into going back to the funeral home for quick cleanup. But, she’d been so busy with the funeral home she’d been relying on the blood of the dead for far too long. She needed to feel blood pulsating into her mouth straight from the vessel.

Immediately, Gigi pulled Crystal into a kiss, which took Crystal by surprise. She knew that leading into a kiss wasn’t necessary, but Nicky had always done it, and it seemed like a nice touch. Normally, the kisses didn’t feel like anything, serving more to gain trust of the human. For some reason, her kisses with Crystal felt incredible. She hadn’t felt this way since she and Nicky slept together when they were bored.

In the span of her making out with Crystal, she could have easily drained the girl. Something about Crystal made Gigi want to take her time. As she trailed down to her neck, her fangs wouldn’t draw. Cutting her losses, she bit Crystal’s neck with her normal teeth, which caused Crystal to moan loudly. Her regular teeth weren’t sharp enough to draw blood in the way she needed. This set Gigi off in a way she’d never felt before. This wasn’t acceptable. Thiscouldn’t happen.

Gigi broke the kiss and stared into Crystal’s eyes.

“My apartment’s just down the street,” Crystal offered.

“Crystal, you seem like a really nice girl, and that was incredible, but I have to go.” Gigi walked away before receiving a response.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Gigi didn’t know what she was going to do. She couldn’t go back to the bar and find someone else. Never had Gigi found a human she actually wanted to be around. By this point, she was every negative emotion. Ravenous from thirst, confused about her fangs suddenly not working, and furious at herself that she’d made such a simple mistake.

The ten minute drive from the bar to her apartment lasted two. She had to get home, and fast.

On particularly bad nights, Gigi liked to have her fun. As much as she hated humans, blindly torturing them for fun wasn’t something she partook in. Someone who deserved the pain, however, she could get behind.

It wasn’t something she’d done often. The last time was back in the eighties when Nicky left for the last time.

Perched on the top of her couch, Gigi pulled up the sex offender registry. She found her target. A serial rapist, less than five miles away. Perfect. Gigi got into her car as she typed the address into the GPS. She grinned to herself, thinking about the fun she was about to have.

After ringing the doorbell, a normal-looking middle-aged man answered the door. “Hello?”

“Hi!” Gigi began, making her voice sound ditzy. “I’m, like, so lost.”

“Oh no, dear, that’s no good. Come on in.” the man smoothed his thinning hair.

Disgusting.

“Would you like a drink?”

“Oh, no thank you. I just need to find out how to get to the red line…. Chicago transportation is, like, so confusing, you know?”

The way he smirked made Gigi want to snap his neck right then and there.. What a disgusting man. “It’s something that’s for sure.”

Gigi batted her eyelashes. “Any plans tonight?”

The man shifted in his chair nervously. “Nothing… Until now?”

“Wanna have some fun tonight?”

She felt disgusting, but the thought of killing such a vile man would be worth it.

“Well, young lady, since you’re asking…”

“I”m into some weird shit,” Gigi began.

“Oh?”

“I like to fuck in my daddy’s funeral home right where the dead bodies get made up.”

“I don’t think I can–”

Gigi stared directly into the man’s eyes. “You are going into my car, you are not going to touch me, you won’t even speak to me. You won’t say anything. We are going to the funeral home.”

“We’re going to the funeral home…” he said dreamily. “Who died?”

Gigi didn’t reply as she shut the door. The entire ride to the funeral home, the man had a dazed look in his eye. Humans were so weak-minded. Glamouring people was fun for Gigi, there was nothing like watching a human bend at the knee, willing to do whatever she wished. She parked in the back of the funeral home and unlocked the door to the back.

“Let’s go,” Gigi demanded. “Out. Now.”

The man did as he was told, and just as Gigi instructed earlier, didn’t say a word. “This way.”

“Uh-huh,” the man said.

“ Quiet. ”

Normally, the people she fed from were people who were around the same physical age as she was. The thought of kissing someone who looked like this man was enough to make her disgusted, that, combined with his vile actions, made it simply out of the question.

“Sit on the table.” Immediately he did as instructed, and sat on the edge of the table. The obedience made Gigi smile wickedly. Humans really were pathetic.

“Next, you’re going to tell me exactly what you did to those girls.”

“They were so beautiful… they were asking for it and–”

“Wrong answer.”

Baring her fangs, Gigi sank them into the man’s neck, breaking the skin but not going deep into the vein just deep enough to make the man cry out in agony. The euphoric feeling only occurred when blood was actively being drank. She pulled away, making sure to take in the man’s pained expression. His whimpering was pathetic. It was that of a puppy that accidentally got stepped on.

“Please…” the man begged. “Let me live.”

Gigi exhaled looking at the man’s desperate eyes. His pleas meant nothing to her. There was something about human suffering that she relished. The suffering of a human who deserved it was even better.

She laughed quietly. “No, no. I don’t think I will.”

Once more, Gigi sank her fangs into the man’s neck. This time, it was on the other side and the bites were much deeper. She made several bites, all avoiding major arteries and veins. The knowledge of human anatomy was quite useful when torturing humans. It was clear that the man wanted to cry out once more, but couldn’t.

As soon as she was satisfied with the man’s suffering, Gigi sank her fangs into the man one last time into the carotid, her vessel of choice. It had been quite some time she’d fed on someone over the age of thirty. She forgot that the blood started tasting much more bitter. It was as though she was forced to eat her least favorite food out of sheer necessity.

Shutting her eyes, Gigi imagined that the man was the girl from earlier, Crystal. Gigi was certain Crystal’s blood would be much sweeter in her mouth. She didn’t fantasize about feeding on Crystal alone. She fantasized about ripping her clothes off and seeing her curvy body and…

She didn’t even realize she’d completely drained the man. Coming down from the euphoria from feeding, Gigi saw just how much of a mess she made. Blood was splattered all over the room, starting on the linoleum, all the way up to the cabinets. Thank God for industrial strength bleach.

Normally, Gigi was methodical and calculated when she fed. Most times, she was so precise that the puncture marks from her fangs were barely visible, and only a scant amount of blood didn’t end up in her mouth.

Effortlessly, she brought the man’s corpse into the basement and turned the retort on. The man was rather thin, so it would probably take about an hour and a half for him to be reduced to ash, which was about as long as it would take her to make the prep room presentable again after the mess she made.

The entire time she cleaned, her thoughts kept going back to Crystal. There was something about the girl that intrigued Gigi. In nearly a century, she’d never felt any sort of attraction toward a human.

Most humans she found disgusting. Why was she so drawn to a girl that she met once? She pondered as she collected the man’s ashes.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, you’re a terrible human, burn in Hell,” Gigi muttered as she scattered the ashes.

When she went back to her apartment, Gigi sat on her couch and patted the space next to her, getting Akasha’s attention.. Absentmindedly petting her cat, Gigi still couldn’t get the girl out of her head. With a groan, Gigi stretched on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Why was she thinking about a human? What was wrong with her? She smacked the back of her head against the couch hard enough that it would hurt a human.

Never sleeping was terrible for a chronic overthinker. Gigi never got to shut her brain down, instead, it constantly ran like a neverending machine. There were not enough bad B-horror movies in the world to occupy her mind.

Finally, it was 6 A.M., an acceptable time for humans to go on a run. Even though Gigi wouldn’t explode or sparkle in the direct sunlight, if she was in it too long, she’d get the world’s worst sunburn, so she tried to go before the sun rose. Just to be sure, she always ran in long sleeves and pants.

Five miles later, Gigi returned to her apartment, thankful she didn’t sweat anymore. Looking at the clock, she saw she had an hour to get ready for work. She had no idea why she always looked, at the time. It took the same amount of time for her to get ready, and she had her routine down like clockwork.

The next step in her morning was to make herself look, well, not dead. If Gigi didn’t give herself ample time to get ready, she’d look like one of the corpses on her table. Her skin was so pale it was translucent, blue veins visible through the skin with heavy bags under her eyes. Half of Gigi’s makeup bag looked like normal, everyday products like eyeliner and mascara. The other half were products that belonged at the funeral home. It was the only makeup that could cover her veins.

It was a process to paint her entire body, so most of the time, she wore sleeves. On the nights where she wanted to look provocative at the bar, it was dark enough inside that she could get away with just painting her face and neck. Gigi would hardly call herself a makeup artist, but she had to admit, she was good. It was no easy feat to go from looking dead to looking human. To be fair, she was good at almost everything.

By the time she got to the funeral home, Jackie was already there. Gigi reassured Jackie every time that it wasn’t necessary for her to arrive before 8, but she insisted.

“Morning,” Jackie greeted.

“Good morning.”

“So, I was just checking everything over before we opened for the day… One of the prep rooms looked… off.”

Shit.

“Off? How do you mean?”

All Gigi could do was think about the possible spots she could have missed cleaning. She triple checked to make sure that the room was spotless. But, as careless as she was last night, she wouldn’t be surprised if she left evidence.

Jackie motioned for Gigi to follow her. When the lights to the prep room flickered open, Gigi looked around and saw nothing.

“What do you mean?” Gigi asked.

Jackie pointed to one of the cabinets that was propped open. Gigi breathed a sigh of relief. Leaving the cabinet with the cleaning products open was hardly anything to worry about.

“It’s just a cabinet, Jackie.”

“I just figured you’d want to know, considering that time I moved the aneurysm hooks, you lectured me for like fifteen minutes that things had their places, and that the rooms had to be left the way they were when I came into them.”

Jackie wasn’t wrong. Gigi liked everything a specific way. Everything had its place, especially in her safe haven. She had to admit, had it been Jackie who left the cabinet open, she would have been frustrated.

“Two completely different things.”

“How… Nevermind. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Jackie,” Gigi’s tone was short.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t really know how it was open like that.”

Gigi shrugged. “Maybe I left it open. I don’t remember.”

“You? Leaving a cabinet open? Who are you?” Jackie laughed.

Gigi forced a laugh. “I suppose I was just tired.”

The day was uneventful at best, at least to Gigi. Any human would disagree. Seeing a dead sixteen year old boy hit by a drunk driver mangled beyond recognition would disturb most. Not Gigi. Thank God the family didn’t want an open casket; there was no possibility the boy would look presentable, despite her skill in her trade.

Once she finished, dissatisfied with the boy’s appearance, she shut the door, where Jackie was standing.

“You okay?” Jackie asked gently.

“Yes?” Gigi raised an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“He was so young… It’s sad.”

“Oh. Yes. Very sad.”

Jackie smiled. “You do good work. I’m sure you’ll bring the family a lot of closure.”

“It’s a closed casket,” Gigi said, walking away, feeling Jackie’s judgmental stare.

As she sat in her office, fidgeting with the gold chain around her neck. Gigi couldn’t get Crystal out of her head. Not just Crystal, the entirety of the events that unveiled the previous night. Why didn’t her fangs draw? Why was she still thinking about a human? What was wrong with her?

All Gigi knew was that old man blood was not nearly as satisfying as the blood of a healthy young person. Biting her lip, she sighed. Feeding two days in a row was not something she enjoyed doing. It was a lot of work. Far too much work for a 115 year old woman.

Gigi wasn’t sure why she was having such an odd couple of days. For some reason, Crystal made her think about humans as a whole. There wasn’t a single human that she thought of for more than a moment. Even thoughts of Jackie only came up at work, or when thinking about work. But, here she was distracted so much so that she couldn’t focus on her reports.

Tapping her pen against her desk, she realized it wasn’t Crystal she was thinking about. It was her own humanity.

Humanity was something that Gigi struggled with since she was cursed with immortality. Her thoughts on humans changed drastically through the past few decades. When she was first turned, all she could do was feel jealousy toward them. They got everything she didn’t, they got to raise a family, they got to have a life without hiding, and they got to die.

Eventually, her jealousy led to hatred, so much so that Gigi could barely speak to humans without an extreme urge to drain them dry. As much as she tried, she couldn’t remember why she began to hate them in the first place, other than the fact that she was on the apex predator. Humans were weak, merely a form of sustenance.

But what if they weren’t?

#rpdr fanfiction #crystal methyd #gigi goode #jackie cox #crygi #lesbian au #vampire au #duality #metaluna #tw for blood/death/gore/violence #submission #s12

12 notes · View notes

paintingraves · 5 years ago

Text

A Witcher in New York

AU in which MACUSA gets reports of an unusual magical activity in a remote place in the state of New York.

It's bad enough to warrant Percival Graves' official presence in the field. Accompanied by a team of senior aurors, he apparates to the right coordinates and they find themselves in front of a creepy estate with a garden left to abandon and a decaying manor.

They split to explore the place... until they find a man, lying on the ground unconscious and grievously wounded. He has white dirty hair and wears a medieval-looking armor with pieces of his gear scattered about - there's a real sword and a dagger, a crossbow, and several broken vials of potions the Aurors can't identify. The wounded man holds one of them tightly in his hand, clinging to it like a lifeline.

The sulfur smell of dark, powerful magic lingers in the air around them. But there is no immediate threat, so Percival calls for his Aurors to lower their weapons and call a healer. They have to save this strange man, must know who he is and where he came from.

Geralt of Rivia wakes up in a magical hospital with no sword, no armor, feeling completely disoriented, but alive. He has to get out of here, now.

He tries to move but there are tiny tubes of unknown material inside his arms and attached to something he can't identify with a pocket of unknown fluid and Geralt rips them off of him in a panic. He gets out of the bed and staggers around the room trying to find his clothes or something suitable. Where is Jaskier? Last thing he remembers is them fighting a mage - then complete blackout. Gods he hopes the bard is okay.

Geralt goes to the window and tries to open it but it resists even his strength. He heads to the door and there are people behind it, two of them on either side. They're guarding him. But they have no weapon or visible armor of any kind. They don't look like any enemy or friend Geralt knows. He thinks it wouldn't be too hard to get rid of them and get the hell out of wherever this place is if he could only get the bloody door to open!

Alas it is not meant to be. Something in the room starts producing a shrill sound, like the regular ringing of a bell and Geralt claps his hands over his ears with a groan. It's too much - the sound is too loud, the lights are too bright and he doesn't know where he is.

He glances to the door again, and there's a third person looking at him through the circular glass, a man with dark, assessing eyes. He nods to someone and then the door clicks open and the man comes in, holding his hands up in a non-threatening gesture. Geralt steps backwards. The man is dressed in weird clothes (he's never seen anything like this in the Four Kingdoms) and he carries himself with an air of powerful, carefully constructed dominance and authority that seems to permeate the air around him. This is a man who imposes respect when he walks into a room, but Geralt has met monsters and men far more terrifying than he. He stands up straighter, locks his jaw, crosses his arms over his chest and waits for the man to make a first move.

"I'm Percival," the man says, pointing at himself. Then he says a string of words Geralt can't understand. But he doesn't attack. Per-ceee-vol. That must be his name. It doesn't help Geralt's case to know it but it's a start.

He puts a hand on his chest. "Geralt. Where the fuck am I?"

Percival makes a face. The two Aurors behind him are confused. "What did he just say?"

"What language was that?!"

"Sounds a bit like Polish, except... Not."

"Quiet, you two." Percival rubs a hand over his face. "Fuck. This makes everything more complicated. Kohen, we need a translation spell as soon as possible. Go to MACUSA, find Ross and get back here quickly. I need a sheet of paper. Best not to do magic in front of this guy till we figure out where he's from... He might react badly."

"Yes sir," Kohen nods and leaves the room. Geralt watches the man go and tilts his head. His eyes are the most peculiar color Percival has ever seen. They're yellow, slitted like a snake's, and definitely not human. But he doesn't look like any of the humanoid creatures Percival knows (and he's read Newt Scamander's famous Bestiary thrice, so he knows what he's talking about.)

"What the fuck is going on?" The man, Geralt, says, glaring daggers at Percival. It's unsettling. Graves doesn't let it show.

Julia had stepped out for a brief second to conjure a sheet of paper and a pen. She hands them to Percival who thanks her. He hesitates briefly, but it's the only means of communication they have right now. So he draws a poor representation of the man in front of him - white hair and all - lying on the ground eyes closed next to a looming mansion. He shows the drawing to Geralt, who steps closer to examine it with an unreadable expression.

"These are some good lines, sir," Julia says, and Percival grimaces.

"That's you," he tells Geralt, pointing at the man on the drawing then him. Next he draws himself with mild success, and a team of shocked-looking stick figures. "And that's us. We found you. Healed you." He draws an unhappy looking Geralt with an obvious injury (changing the color of the pen silently with a charm to draw blood) then an arrow and a happy looking Geralt healed in a hospital bed. The man seems to understand. He nods, which is a relief, then makes a move to take the paper. Percival gives him, curious to see what he'll do.

In a corner Geralt draws a detailed sword (damn, but he's talented) as well as the rest of the gear they found with him. Percival nods and slaps a hand on his chest to say he has kept them. "They're safe," he says, then resolves to show them to him once he can. Geralt looks unsure. Then he draws a man's head, with curly dark hair and a feathered hat and... A lute?

"Dandelion," he says, pointing at the man. "Jaskier. Where is he?"

Percival shakes his head, and Geralt looks distressed. But they haven't seen the second man, there was only him. Frustrated, Geralt turns the paper over and begins to scribble furiously. He's not done when Kohen comes back with Ross, their translator, a thin bespectacled man who looks way too happy to be here.

Geralt shoves his new drawing in Percival's face. It's him, looking fierce in full armor and fighting something huge and monstrous. "I'm a Witcher," he says. Percival is distracted by the tiny horse drawn in background of the illustration. "Oh, that's Roach, my horse."

Percival nods as though he understood all of that. "Ross, a little help?"

"Certainly sir." Ross clears his throat, holds up his hands and says something short in Latin. "That should do it. Hello."

"You... speak my language," Geralt says, surprised.

"Sort of."

"Where am I?"

"You're in New York City, in the United States of America, in a hospital. Mr. Graves and his team received reports of an unusual magical activity near an abandoned manor, and found you. You were wounded. The doctors healed you. You're fine now, and safe, but we have questions for you."

That was a lot to take in. Geralt's mind was reeling. New... York? He'd never heard of such a place. "Where in the Four Kingdoms is that place you speak of?"

"Where are you from?" Ross asked.

"The Continent. Rivia. I'm a Witcher. I was raised in Kaer Morhen."

"Where is that?"

"In the North."

"Like... Iceland? Russia?"

"No."

"Another world?" Ross murmured, his glasses askew.

"... Perhaps." Geralt inclined his head. He'd heard such stories before. "Where are my weapons?"

"Mr. Graves keeps them in his office, don't worry."

"I need to go home," Geralt said. "I need them. And my clothes."

"Right, of course we'll bring you clothes. As for going home, we'll try to figure out how we are happened and send you back. You said you're a Witcher?"

"Yes."

"Meaning?"

"Monster hunter," Geralt grunted. "I find and kill vampired, ogroids, werewolves, griffins, ghouls, anything that threatens the peace of our world. That's my job."

Ross emitted a low whistle. In English, he said, "Well, Newt wouldn't like him. Alright. We don't have monster hunters here."

"What are you then?"

"We're... wizards."

There was a spark of recognition in Geralt's eyes. "Like mages?"

"... I guess so?"

"I don't like mages. They spell trouble."

"Why - in your world perhaps Geralt. But here we work to protect the magical world, kind of like you do. Like... Soldiers."

"Hmm."

"Which is why we need to understand where you came from and how it could happen. We can't risk other creatures from your world coming into this one. Magic and monsters are only legends for the majority of the population here."

"I see."

"Right. So. Clothes. Then you’ll be coming with us to MACUSA, where your things await you. And we'll ask you more questions. Is that alright?"

"Sure."

".. Okay." Ross turned to Percival. "There's a lot to unpack here. Geralt here is a monster hunter from another world."

"What?" Percival said.

"I know! Exciting, isn't it? Now he's willing to follow us - because he knows you have his stuff - but he wants to go home as soon as possible."

"Understandable. Tell him we'll do everything we can to send him back." Ross did so. "And let's get this man some proper clothing. Fuck." Percival rubbed at his eyes again. "I guess it was too much to ask for one single, peaceful day."

Geralt smiled at him, showing all his sharp teeth, and Percival cursed.

#Percival Graves #The witcher #Geralt of Rivia #Yes it's another unlikely crossover who do you think i am #My fic #Txt #Lmao

31 notes · View notes

tempesrature · 5 years ago

Text

The Case of the Murdered Witch Doctors | Chapter 3

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 The Charm of Lost Things (Oneshot Follow-up) Creative Process Note Commissioned Art Piece

Pairing: Ride or Die | Ellie x Colt Summary: “There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact.” - Arthur Conan Doyle, The Boscombe Valley Mystery Word Count: 3k+ Warnings: PG-16 @rodappreciationweek @lovehugsandcandy

~*~

“Woah, do you smell that?” Colt says as he enters the Kilat home, his nose already picking up on the smell that usually sticks to places where magical creatures spend most of their time in like their houses or workplaces. “It smells sweet like flowers and fruits. Is this what witch doctors smell like?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Ellie shrugs and toes off her shoes near the entrance of the door. “And take off your shoes. That’s the one rule I was told to follow.”

“Wait, you can’t smell magical creatures?” Colt asks incredulously as he kicks off his shoes too.

Ellie shrugs as she confidently makes her way into the house, already familiar with the layout of it after a month of investigating the place. “You can’t smell me and I can’t smell you. It’s a fair payoff.”

“It’s a shitty payoff that’s what,” Colt says as he follows Ellie through the winding hallways, his eyes catching the furniture and decorations in the house that seems to be frozen in time.

They stop at the basement door and Ellie places her hand on the wooden surface to unlock the complicated spell she placed to keep the murder scene secure and locked.

Colt smirks as he inches closer to her from behind before he leans down to whisper in her ear tantalizingly. “Just so you know, vampires smell like dark chocolate.”

“That so?” Ellie asks with a bored tone which earns a frown from Colt. “Logan says they smell like piss.”

“Who the fuck—”

Colt doesn’t get to finish his sentence when Ellie completely ignores him, pushes open the basement door and makes her way down the stairs. Colt growls, annoyed that she’s ignoring him, before he makes his way down to the basement as well.

Once he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he lets his eyes wander around the space. Multitude of bottles and jars full of unknown substances are lined on the multiple shelves close to the wall, there’s a long table in the middle full of cooking utensils and hardware tools and a single lightbulb illuminates the space. Colt realizes that it’s just like any witch’s laboratory but somehow it’s different. He feels almost…suffocated by the air. It’s not unusual for him to be bothered by heavy smells, vampires do have heightened senses, but the air in the basement is different, stronger—almost dizzying.

“Here,” Ellie offers him a handkerchief she manifested when she sees his eyes almost glaze over. “This is where the Kilat’s made their medicine and potions. Ana says the smell of the ingredients gets to you after awhile if you’re not used to it so be careful.”

Colt grumbles as he takes the handkerchief from her and presses it against his nose and he’s relieved to find that it’s been enchanted with magic to fully block out the smell. “You couldn’t have warned me beforehand?”

“And ruin the surprise?” Ellie snickers and Colt glares at her. She ignores his glare and raises her hand, blue sparks dancing on her palms, as the room starts to melt and change into a captured image of the night the murder was reported in. The details are so crisp and vivid it looks hauntingly real.

Colt looks at Ellie, his eyes wide in surprise and awe, and she merely smirks back at him.

“I may have a time limit but I’m still a damn good witch,” Ellie says with pride before she moves around the table and signals for Colt to come over.

Colt walks towards her and his eyes immediately land on the two bodies on the floor. Ernesto and Malina Kilat lay on the floor side by side, their eyes shut close and their hands placed on top of their abdomen as if they’re laid and ready for a casket.

“Here’s what we know about them,” Ellie starts as she bounces off her ideas and works through them in case Colt may catch something she hasn’t. “They were brought to America during the American colonization of the Philippines sometime in 1905. They’ve mostly stayed under the radar of the Agency due to their slow physical ageing and relatively human features. They were branded as a non-threat and low-maintenance watch until their deaths were discovered a month ago. They sold their medicine and potions to both human and magical creatures, usually for cures to ailments. They do use the Fern Flower in some of their concoctions but it doesn’t exceed the legal amount so I ruled out the illegal drug trade as a motive for the murder.”

“Who found them?” Colt asks, his brain itching at a puzzle he wants to solve, as his sharp golden eyes look around the scene to see if he can discover something new.

Ellie sighs, her heart momentarily aching. “Their daughter, Anagolay or Ana as she likes to be called. She was out at a party and discovered their bodies when she came home in the early morning. Ingrid estimates the time of death somewhere between 8 p.m. to 10 p.m. Ana’s currently living with a friend until we can solve this mess. They were undocumented as well which is why the Agency wants this finished as soon as possible. If it gets picked up by mortal media, it could be a disaster.”

Colt hums in agreement as his eyes land on the table and he combs through the different tools laid out and projected by Ellie’s magic.

Ellie picks up on what he’s looking for and moves closer to him. “Think one of these could have been used to drain their blood?”

Colt scoffs. “Yeah if you think a butter knife can do it cleanly enough,” He tries to pick up the butter knife for emphasis but his hand passes through the object and Ellie lets out a snort of laughter.

“Projection magic remember?” Ellie teases and Colt glares at her as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

Ellie lowers her hand with a sad sigh, the scene of the murder fizzing out and going back to the normal, when she realizes that he didn’t find anything new.

Colt turns to look around the bottles and jars that line the shelves. He tries to make out the contents but everything seems either too seeped into a brown-black liquid or crushed into a powder.

“Did you check the inside of these things?”

Ellie sighs again, going around the table to stand next to him as she looks up at the shelves he’s looking at.

“I’ve tried. But it’s not like albularyos are just around the corner of West Hollywood. If I could use the Agency’s contacts to reach the Philippine branch, I might have more information but since I can’t…” Ellie trails off, her hands clinching into fists as dark blue flit by in her eyes. “So I’m going off of Ana’s information. We’ve been going through the contents on the shelves but she says most of them are used for medicine and although some ingredients are dangerous, there’s not enough to actually cause harm. Luckily Mr. Ernesto kept a list of his regular customers. I’ve questioned all of them except for two vampires. Jason Shaw being one of them.”

Colt opens his mouth, ready to ask who the other person is when they both hear a loud crash somewhere in the house. Their eyes meet, blue connecting with gold, as a silent conversation passes through them. Ellie nods, her eyes stern and alert and Colt grits his teeth and nods back.

Colt moves first and walks in front of Ellie as they take careful steps up the basement stairs, trying their best to keep their footstep light and silent as they search for the source of the sound. Colt angles his body to shield Ellie. She raises her hand and uses magic to bring up a blueprint of the house before she tugs on Colt’s leather jacket to get his attention. Colt turns to her and notices three blinking lights in the blueprint. Two on the first floor and one upstairs.

With a nod to each other, they make their way up to the second floor. Once they reach the last step of the stairs, they press their backs to each other to scout out their blind spots. Colt reaches around to tug her sleeve and Ellie turns to see him pointing at the opened door in Anagolay’s room, the daughter of the Kilat family.

Ellie nods, their movements fluid around each other, as they take slow and cautious steps towards the door. Once they’re inches near the door, Ellie turns to Colt and taps her nose. Colt raises an eyebrow before he realizes what she’s asking of him and he takes a long sniff to the direction of the door before he turns to her and shakes his head. Ellie nods, suddenly feeling a small dread settle in her stomach, before she signals to Colt on the count of three. Colt nods and they both turn to look at the door.

One—she takes a deep breath and gathers her magic in her hands. Two—Colt bares his fangs, his golden eyes shining with a menace. Three—they move to the door and—

“Ana?!” Ellie exclaims in surprise and relief, the magic in her palms immediately disappearing.

“Woah Ellie. Hi,” The teenage girl with brown skin and black hair, wearing sweatpants and a black t-shirt stands in the middle of the bedroom. She raises her hands in mock surrender before her black eyes flit to Colt. “Uh…that your boyfriend?”

Ellie’s eyes widen before she turns to look at Colt standing beside her who’s looking down at her with a cocky smile.

“No he’s my…” Ellie fumbles for a title, not really knowing what they are before she shakes her head and just jumps straight to introductions. “Ana this is Colt, Colt this is Anagolay. The daughter of the Kilats.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ana greets before her nose wrinkle and she takes a small sniff in his direction. She turns to Ellie with a disapproving look. “A vampire Ellie? Really?”

“He’s helping out with the case,” Ellie reassures her before she walks inside the room. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I’m here to get some of my clothes and stuff. I’m getting really tired of wearing sweatpants everyday you know?”

Ellie frowns and Colt takes his time to look around her bedroom. His nose wrinkles at the posters of mortal idols on the wall before he looks at the scattered clothes and books on the floor and a few bottles and jars on her vanity table that looked like the ones in the basement.

“You know you’re not allowed inside without me accompanying you Ana.”

“I know I tried calling you but you wouldn’t pick up,” Ana huffs.

“My bad,” Ellie apologizes as she reaches into her jean pocket and pulls out her phone. “I was in the basement and didn’t have cell service.”

“Cool, whatever,” Ana dismisses as she moves to sit on her bed. “Find anything new?”

Ellie sighs again as she glances at Colt sadly. “Nothing so far, no.”

“Mm, figures,” Ana says with a small frown as she goes back to packing her clothes. “They never organized the basement. So much shit just laying around you’ll have an easier time finding a vampire out in the sun,” She gives a pointed look at Colt who just gives her a winning smile.

“You go down there a lot then?”

“Nah, just a couple of times,” She says as she starts to play with the loose threads on her shirt. “I wasn’t allowed to go down much. My parents didn’t want me to take on the family business even though I’m smart enough to know that they need good ventilation down there.”

Colt chuckles as Ellie shakes her head and smiles fondly at Ana. As much as Ellie likes her, she knows she needs to get Ana out of the house as soon as possible purely for the reason that Ana can talk and talk until the sun comes up (which happened once) and Ellie actually wants to go home today before 10 p.m.

“Alright. Pack up whatever else you need and I’ll walk you out,” Ellie instructs as Ana gives her a mock two finger salute before she goes back to pack the rest of her clothes. Ellie leads Colt out of the bedroom door and walks him down the hallway. Far enough so that Ana doesn’t hear their conversation.

“I’ll take her back to her friend’s house,” Ellie says as she looks up at him and she suddenly feels a little shy when she remembers how…well they worked together. How easily they could communicate with non-verbal cues and read each other without the need for words. “You should go, I’ve kept you away long enough.”

“Nah, this was actually interesting,” Colt comments before he turns to look at the time on his wristwatch and his lips pull into a frown. “But yeah, I should go.”

“Okay, I’ll send you some of the files I have of the case. Maybe you’ll see something that I missed.”

Colt looks up at her in surprise before a wicked grin taking hold of his lips. “You’re not such a bad detective after all, Miss Half a Witch.”

Ellie’s eyes narrows at the nickname and Colt merely smirks as he looks into her eyes and she feels the undeniable pull he has on her. A kind of pull that’s making her lean forward as the distance between them start to disappear.

But Colt takes a step back with a smirk, the pull fizzing into nothing.

“I have a better idea,” Colt says before he takes his bike keys from his pocket and twirls it around his finger as he starts to make his way to the stairs. “Come by the shop on the weekend at sundown. Let’s talk about the case there,” He looks at her over his shoulder, his eyes glinting in brilliant gold, as he licks his lips knowingly. “You might even find something else that you’ve missed.”

Ellie blushes as she starts to say something but he walks down the stairs too quickly for her to get a word in and she huffs. She crosses her arms in front of her, seething a little at the emotions he seems to bring out of her, before she turns around and goes to check on Ana.

“Done making out with your new vamp beau?” Ana teases just as Ellie enters the room.

“He’s not my—! We weren’t—!” Ellie sighs as she moves to the vanity and leans back to press her palms against the wooden surface.

“Mm that’s what they all say,” Ana snickers as she throws in a hoodie into her bag. “Careful with those. I dated one three years ago. Josh kissed like he was gonna suck the soul right outta me, if you know what I’m mean,” Ana waggles her eyebrows suggestively and Ellie scoffs as she turns her head to the side to hide away her blush.

“Anyway, how are you holding up so far?” Ellie quickly tries to change the conversation away from vampires and kisses. “Your friend taking care of you?”

“Yeah but I’d like to live here again though,” Ana comments as she drops down on the bed and looks up at the ceiling. “There’s a shitton of things I need to clean up in the basement or else those duwendes in the jars are going to smell like straight up ass. Not even the good kind of ass, the kind of ass that just knocks you the fuck out. Plus, the anitos are complaining of the food and drink I offer them. Who knew ancient Filipino spirits don’t like a good American burger and a glass of diet coke as much as I do?”

Ellie chuckles wearily, her eyes softening for the girl in front of her. In a way, Ellie saw herself in Ana. Which is why she’s so close to this case and why she’s so desperate to solve it for Ana. To give her the closure that Ellie can never get.

“I’ll find the creature that did this Ana, I swear.”

Ana looks back at Ellie with a frown, her expression distant. “Not to be rude Ellie. I like you but I can tell that my parent’s death isn’t on the Agency’s top ten list of murders to solve in under a year list.”

“But it is on mine,” Ellie assures her with a confident smile. “And with Colt’s help, I’m doing a lot better than before.”

Ana smiles sadly as if the mention of Colt’s name doesn’t really bring her any comfort.

Ellie sighs weakly, her hands moving further back the vanity table as she looks up at the ceiling. Ellie likes to be confident. That somehow she can solve this within a year and that she is telling the truth when she said that Colt has helped significantly in the case but the reality of it is that this could be just another case that the Agency just…turns a blind eye too. And Ellie doesn’t want that. This is the whole reason why she painstakingly joined the Agency, even with the amount of shit she had to wade through to get her badge. To prevent cases like Ana’s, Colt’s and her mother’s from ever happening again.

“Woah Ellie careful!” Ana yells out as she hurriedly crosses the room and takes the bottles and jars from the vanity table into her arms. “If these bottles explode, you’re gonna send broken pieces of glass everywhere!”

“Huh—? Oh shit sorry,” Ellie quickly pulls her hand away from the vanity table, the remnants of blue sparks dancing around her hand, before she looks at the bottles in Ana’s arms curiously. “Are those from the basement?”

“Nah, my tatay made this and he basically customized it for me,” Ana laments as she places the bottles of clear liquid into her bag. “I’m a clumsy piece of shit so I always get cuts and bruises outta nowhere. One swipe of this and bam! Instant heal and no scars,” Ana chuckles sadly, her eyes pricking with tears as she cradles a bottle in her palm. “Guess I’ll have to make it on my own now.”

Ellie’s eyes soften, her heart aching at Ana’s emotions that Ellie knows all too well. She sighs and pushes herself off of the vanity table and approaches Ana and lays a comforting hand on her back.

“Come on. I’ll help you with the rest.”

#rodaw #choices rod #colt x ellie #colt kaneko #vampire au #detective au #witch au #murder mystery #cw: magical-drugs #cw: police #my writing

13 notes · View notes

princehec-tor-kur · 5 years ago

Text

Vampire x Vampire Hunter

Entrapta hoped the door bell wouldn't have been drowned out by the loud roaring of thunder in the completely blackened skies. She tried the door knocker the next time. Maybe it faired better that the bell or maybe the bell was heard, but the response to the door was delayed. In any case the short woman heard the components of the rusty lock turn and twist with clicks and clanks. The huge wooden door, with the stature of a tree, slowly swang open.

In the door way was a woman, tall, thin. Her skin grey and tarnished by the elements. Her hair black and untaimed, Entrapta could relate. The woman's lower face was covered by a cloth, her eyes white like marble. She quirked her brow at the abnormally small woman and asked, "Well?"

The shorter lady responded with a bounch in her step, "Oh! Hey, I'm Entrapta. Entrapta Vesselak," the other woman stares with a blank expression on her face waiting for anything significant, "I-eh, I'm the world famous vampire hunter: En-trap-ta... rings a bell?"

That got the servent woman to change her expression, it worpped to an expression of surprise and confusion. Her eyes narrowed and her head leaned forward. "What?"

Entrapta wasn't sure if the woman didn't understand so she continued, "I was invited here. For a dinner feast to discuss funding for further projects." Entrapta began gesturing with her hands hopeing it would set some alarms off in the womans head. She hoped she didn't take a wrong turn and entered up at the wrong haunted looking castle.

"Invited by wh-"

"Shadow Weaver."

The woman, Shadow Weaver, was cut off by a deeper, smoother voice. It imerged from the shadows, accompanied with the sound of heels clacking against the floor. Weaver's head snapped back, her posture folding up in fear.

"Why is the quest in the cold?" A figure stood half cloacked in shadows, maybe Entrapta was going crazy, but she could swear his eyes were glowing. Weaver stumbled and mummbled, the tall man dismissed her with a single gesture.

Entrapta happily hopped in, "You must be, Lord Hordak. Neat castle."

"And you must be the infamious Dr. Entrapta Vesselak... you're smaller than I expected." A smirk playing across his face. Entrapta didn't know what it was, but she liked it.

The two walked and talked for what felt like hours, Hordak showing the hunter around the castle, which he dubbed The Fright Zone. How it ran. And all the occupents taking residence in it. Entrapta found out that the Lord didn't live in the castle alone. With their was his adopted daughter Catra and her wife Baroness Scorpia. His servent Shadow Weaver who was the care taker of the children. And his son, Imperium. Strangely enough, Hordak always talked about Imp, as he nicknamed him, as if he was with them at all times, but Entrapta didn't see a living soul except a lone bat fluttering over the chandellier. Following them.

They finally made their way into the dinning hall, which was a blessing, because Entrapta was starving. The table was massive in length, the two opposite seats seemed like they were carved out of gold. Much to his surprise Entrapta chose the regular seat next to his.

That shocked him more was to learn that the young woman was a scientist, focusing on study, observation and research, but she didn't mind getting her gloves dirty if need be. The dinner was grand and feast rich with variety of flavour like no other. But Entrapta barely touched her plate, her mouth was too occupied with riddling the lord with questions. She was intrigued. Nothing stopped Entrapta when she was intrigued.

Hordak himself had to admite he was inthralled with the woman. A first glance she seemed nothing more than childish, but the more she opened up the more she revealed herself as an intellectual and quite the amoral type. She had a dark sense of humour, he noted. She passively joked about how she ran out of subjects from her home town of Dryl so she resorted to running after squirels.

She, in fact, was quite the joker, dry humour that clearly was made to make herself laugh. Very much what a person would consider dad humour.

Hordak was guilty himself of chuckling at some of the aweful punchlines. Against his better judgement he smiled, revealing his sharp canines. His nose scrunched up and a snort came out of his giggle.

That seemed to have caught the woman's attention, because a brief moment of silence ingulfed them. Hordak swore her eyes darted to his lips at least twice before she restablished direct eye contact with him. This time the look was different. Not just intrigue now, something else, something that made Hordak gag on clean air.

The dinner was cut short the moment Entrapta manifested a mischiefious grin, this time Hordak saw her teeth. He ubruptly stood up in a hurry, wished her good rest and waltzed upstairs to, presumably, his bedroom.

She was quite confused by the action, but followed suite and found her way towards her own guest room. She set her things up in her room in record time. All her traps and hunting apparatus was laided out around the floor in rows in alphabetical order.

Entrapta stared up at the ceiling from her queen sized bed and it's strong wooden arcs. She smiled and sounded a victorious 'yes' to herself. She was bad at using or understanding social ques, but from what she could gather, the dinner went well. She had the funding garanteed. A squeal of excitement escaped her, some proper money for research and materials would be a nice change from scavenging scarps around Dryl for weapons. After the Church of BrightMoon pulled their support, the whole hunting vampires business went slightly stail. But now with THE Lord Hordak and his wealth, the research could continue. So much studing to be done.

She had a good feeling. This time maybe she could actually capture one instead of burning them like usual. Vampires, such facinating creatures. So much to learn. It is unfortunet that some fear knowledge, like BrightMoon, they just wanted the creatures gone. Entrapta would've done anything to get to cut one open and take a peek inside.

A strange feeling crept up on her. Like someone was watching. She turned her head to the giant open window, white curtains bellowing inward. The window framed a perfect picture of the moon, not a single cloud in the sky. No stars either strangely enough. A thin, croocked, withered tree stood infront of the moon. It's trunk swaying from side to side as if about to snap in half anytime. It's branchs like claws reaching for the moon as if to grasp it.

On one of the blackened branches, Entrapta noted, was the same bat that was following her and Lord Hordak in the halls earlier. It starred at the woman with judgemental annoyance. As if examining her for something, in puzzlement.

Suddenly, there was a knock on her door. She hesitently dragged her eyes away from the curious bat and stepped to the wooden door. Entrapta swung the doors open, her head skimmed the hallway, left to right. No one was on the outside of the door. She scratched her scalp.

She heart almost jumped out her throat when she turned around to see two new faces in her room. How did they get in? From the descriptions give to her by Lord Hordak earlier, she could presume these were Catra and Scorpia.

The skinner girl, the one with heterocromic eyes, Catra, reminder her a lot of Hordak. The slightly pointed ears, the sharp nails, the teeth, very similar. Curious. The lord specified the girl was not of blood, yet she seemed like a perfect mirror image of him.

The other was much taller, more muscular, platinum hair and firm hands. The taller woman was humbly sitting on a stool, her knees inward, her left hand giving a slight wave. The shorter one was looking away, out the window, at the bat. She asked without turning to the visitor.

"So... you're the new chew toy the boss has been so wind up about?" Her heterocromic eyes sized her up with a judgemental expression. "She don't seem like much."

"Hey!" Entrapta pouted.

"I think she's nice. So does Lord Hordak. It might be a nice change. Lord Hordak is rarely nice and often so grumpy."

"I'm in the room you know... so... hi. I'm Entrapta, you probably know that already." The scientist scratched her head at the awkward introduction. She wasn't good at social interactions. Not good with people. She was always more of an outcast, a weirdo. An outsider looking in. She observed people, analysed how they interacted, how they acted in particular situations. Then, she copied them. Put a mask on. Surprisingly enough, she hadn't found a need to put one up today, infront of Lord Hordak. He didn't seem repulsed by her morbid sense of curiousity and sense of humour. He actually seemed to gravitate towards her because of her quirks.

She enjoyed that. Having someone locked into her own pull. She enjoyed being in the presence of another intellictual and being able to converse with one. Their session of bouncing ideas off of each other was refreshing, no one ever took interest in her line of work. Not a surprise. Not many people want to be vampire hunters. It was tidious work.

"You must be Catra and Scorpia, right? Cool beans."

The scientist extended her hand to the slightly hairy woman, she looked like she just woke up to a bad hair day. Entrapta could painfully relate. The cat-like figure starred at the forwarded hand and back at Entrapta. And back and forth a couple of times.

"I don't see it. 'Dak must be getting desparate."

"Yeah, what's that supposed to mean?!" Entrapta replied with a slightly angered face now.

Catra scoffed, slowly making her way to the scientist, circling around her. Her heterochromic eyes wondered up and down seemingly unimpressed by the woman. Entrapta didn't pay much attention her her and tried to ease back into the conversation.

"Soooo. You guys live here right? How long? How long have you been married? Did you guys see that little bat followin' me around? Do you know if the castle walls are made from hellstone or brickdwell? Are there any secret doors or passageways? 'Cause I definetly spotted a couple on my way here. Do you think Lord Hordak is more of a milk chocolate guy or dark chocolate? ...Too many questions?"

"Yeah, kind of." Scorpia jestured a tipping shake with her hand. "But definetly milk chocolate." The taller woman stood up and slowly made her way to the scientist and extended her hand to her with a proper greeting. "So yes, I'm Baroness Scorpia and my wild cat over here tring to pull off an intimidating Hordak impressions is my lovely Lady Catra."

At that remark, a slight blush crept on Catra's face. She attempted to hide the rising red by looking away. Entrapta smiled at that.

Scorpia questioned the hunter one more time, "Umm, Professor Entrapta. If we may ask you a question... why are you here? Your arrival here, was not announced to us. What does Lord Hordak wish to gain from you?"

"A one night stand."

"Catra."

"What?! You know he's a freak! And a vampire hunter, dude's a weirdo."

"That's not true. And you know it. Lord Hordak will faint faster keeping direct I contact with a woman than standing in the sun."

"Again. Still in the room you guys... also what was that thing about the sun?"

The two of them looked back at her, Scorpia with an expression of guilt and worry and Catra of confusion and annoyance. "She doesn't- he didn't- *sighs*. Of course he didn't."

Once again there was an unannounced knock on the door. All of the three heads shot to the dark wood. Everything in the room became colder and quieter. Catra gave off a 'pfft' and waved her hand dismissably, while Scorpia posed up right more honorably and seriously. Entrapta decided she would be the one to open the door, since the other two just stood back silently. After the turn of the nob, the other side of the wood revealed Lord Hordak himself.

The lord opened his mouth to say something, a sensire expression on his face, however he stopped. His brow quirked up, he looked back at the room behind Entrapta. She herself turned around to bring the other two into the conversation, but to Entrapta's surprise no one was there. The bedroom was empty. However the frown on the man's face suggested he was aware of the self-invited guests.

Lord Hordak looked back down to the woman, shifting gears, he opened his mouth again. There were those canines again. Real sharp... really... really sharp. Almost... abnormally. "I must apologise doctor."

"For what?" Entrapta tilted her head to the side.

"Well, rather someone else is to apologise for there actions," just then Entrapta noticed a smaller figure step around from behind the lord's black cape. A young boy stepped out, hands figiting together at his tummy, eyes looking down at his feet. A look of embarasement was on his face. "This is Imp and the boy had the audacity to spy on you, and I also see other unwelcomed guests have violated your priva-"

"HE'S SO CUTE!"

Entrapta immiediately knelt down to the boy and flashed a wide grin, she extended to pat the young child on head and ruffle through his white turf of hair. Which prompted the child to show a rosey blush across the cheeks. The little kid's enjoyment was interupted by a forced koff from the lord. Imp immiediately straightened himself out and signed with his two hands 'I'm sorry.'

"Sorry? I did-"

"It means 'I'm sorry'."

"Oh, that's alright." Entrapta waved it off with a hand gesture, she turned back to Hordak. Their eyes locked, the hunter finding the red glow of them quite aluring. "I thought you said you were going to sleep mister." Her lips curved upward. Hordak's eyes grew twice the size with nervousness, he could feel himself start to sweat.

"I- eh- couldn't sleep... I wished to speak with you about uhmmm any possible future projects."

"Uh huh."

"Perhaps projects to involve us both."

"You specialise in traps my lord?" Entrapta asked curiously.

"I tinker. Idle hands are the devil's workshop."

"So you're a man of God?"

"I'm half the man I used to be. But what is left of me is of science... shall we talk later? I must escort the young fella to his quarters." Hordak felt the little boy clench closer to his leg. The man picked the child up in his arms and pulled him closer to his chest.

"It's a date."

Hordak did his best to ignore the remark and turned around to leave with the boy. He turned back briefly, "Oh and if anyone else bothers you during the night. Let me know." He continued off.

"Okky dokki! Sweet dreams!" Entrapta waved them off.

Imp signed with his hands to Hordak as they decended the staircase, 'I like her.'

"Me too. But let's not get too cozy. She IS the enemy and it's good to keep your enemies close."

#entrapdak #hordak #entrapta #vampire x vampire hunter #catra #scorpia #the award for worst and most oblivious vampire hunter goes too #...entrapta!!!

55 notes · View notes

splendidlyimperfect · 5 years ago

Link

Written for @geraskierweek; Day 7: destiny

chapter two - the prophet’s song

Geralt and Yennefer defeat the succubus, then take Jaskier back to Vesemir to figure out what he is.

title: if the apocalypse comes, beep me author: splendidlyimperfect prompt day #: 7 (destiny) summary: Geralt’s a Witcher - one of few monster hunters that are trained to fight the nightmares that the modern world doesn’t know exists. The only people who know are his Watcher Vesemir, and Yennefer, his ex-girlfriend who happens to be a witch. Geralt’s doing just fine balancing hunting and college courses, but when he runs into an unusual man with a (literally) magical voice, his world gets a bit more complicated. word count: 4187 books/netflix/show/video game: netflix triggers/warnings: none rating: M (eventually) additional notes: buffy inspired, modern au with magic/monsters, monster hunting, siren!jaskier, trans!jaskier, yenn and jaskier get to be catty friends

-----

Jaskier’s right. The demons did come in a pair, and they find the succubus in the alley behind the bar, making out with a punk girl with green hair and more piercings than Geralt’s ever seen on a person.

It’s a quick fight – Yenn winds her magic and convinces the girl to go back inside and forget the entire thing, and Geralt beheads the succubus before she can run away. She dissolves into the same black smoke as her partner and Geralt’s medallion immediately stops thrumming.

“Impressive.” Jaskier, who is leaning against the wall a short distance away, grins at Geralt. “Those muscles aren’t just for looks, then?”

“Shut up,” Geralt growls. “Now we need to deal with you.” His sword is still in his hand and he levels it at Jaskier, stepping forward until the tip rests right in the hollow of Jaskier’s throat.

Jaskier doesn’t blink.

Continue reading on AO3

“You’re not going to kill me,” he says, and the glibness in his voice makes Geralt want to kick him in the teeth.

“And what makes you so convinced of that?”

“You need me.”

Geralt looks back at Yenn with his eyebrows raised. “Did I miss something? Is this some sort of…” He turns back to Jaskier and narrows his eyes. “Who the fuck are you and how the hell do you know who—what—I am?”

“It’s a long story,” Jaskier says, and the expression on his face is almost bored. “I’d love to tell you all about it, but perhaps we can go somewhere less…” He gestures vaguely around the alley. “And you don’t need this.” He has the audacity to reach up and tap Geralt’s blade at his throat. “I’m not your enemy, and I’m not going to run.”

Yenn’s hand lands on Geralt’s shoulder and squeezes gently. “He’s telling the truth,” she says. “At least about the running bit.”

Geralt keeps his blade level as he studies Jaskier’s face. He doesn’t look like much of a threat, but Geralt did just see him stab someone – the fact that it was a demon is irrelevant. But now, in the dim orange light of the alley, with his floppy hair and ridiculous leather jacket and bare chest…

Geralt sighs, dropping the incantation and watching the blade dissipate. The he looks back at Yenn, who shrugs and gestures toward the back lot where Geralt’s car is parked.

“I don’t trust you,” Geralt mutters, stalking forward and grabbing Jaskier’s arm. Up close he smells strange – like the beach at night, like ocean salt and a cool breeze. “You’re coming with us until I can figure out what the fuck you are and where the hell you came from.”

“Well, I’ve never complained about being manhandled by a man in leather before,” Jaskier says, winking at Geralt. “And I’m not about to start now.”

Jaskier is obnoxious. For one thing, he doesn’t shut up for the entire drive back to the library. Yennefer sits in the back with him to keep him from doing anything suspicious, and Geralt can see in the rearview mirror that she’s ready to strangle him a minute into the drive. Unfortunately, her silencing spells don’t seem to work on him, so the two of them are forced to suffer through his monologues until they arrive.

The second obnoxious thing about Jaskier is that’s he’s really fucking attractive. Even in the stupid outfit and ridiculous pants, he’s still hot as hell and Geralt hates him for it. It’s been a while since he’s been with anyone, and the horny part of his brain wants to push Jaskier up against the nearest wall and shut him up with a hot kiss and a hand down his pants. The other part of him insists that he does not fuck monsters, even pretty ones with eyes the color of the ocean.

When they finally get to the library, Geralt’s relieved to see that the lights are on. Vesemir doesn’t technically live here, but he might as well – Geralt’s not sure he’s ever seen the man leave.

“A library?” Jaskier asks as Geralt grabs his arm and drags him out of the car. “Quaint. I was expecting something more…” He drags his gaze up Geralt’s chest and Geralt growls at him, shoving him forward and ignoring the way his hair curls around the back of his neck.

Vesemir barely looks up from his book when they enter the library. “Why are you bringing monsters back here?” he asks mildly.

“Because he appears to be on our side,” Yennefer says, hopping up on the desk and crossing her arms. “He killed an incubus.”

Vesemir raises an eyebrow and finally looks at Jaskier, who stumbles forward as Geralt lets go of his arm and shoves him toward Vesemir. “Ow,” Jaskier grumbles, rubbing at his bicep. “I don’t mind being roughed up, but I’d rather not have an audience.”

“Shut up,” Yenn and Geralt groan at the same time.

Vesemir stands from the desk and moves toward Jaskier, who stands his ground despite Vesemir being one of the most intimidating people Geralt’s ever met. They stare each other down for a minute, and eventually Vesemir grabs Jaskier’s wrists and turns his hands palm-up.

“Hm.”

“Oh, excellent,” Jaskier says, not pulling away. “You’re just as eloquent as your protégé.”

“You talk enough for both of them,” Yennefer says, tossing a balled-up piece of paper at Jaskier’s head. “Their silence is blessed.”

Jaskier looks like he’s about to retaliate when Vesemir nods and lets go of his hands, then says, “Sing.”

Geralt frowns at the odd request, but Jaskier doesn’t look surprised. “I do take requests,” he says, grinning. Geralt thinks for a second that he sees a flash of sharp teeth. “Anything in particular?”

Vesemir gives him an unimpressed look and Jaskier sighs. “No appreciation for talent,” he mutters, then winks at Geralt and starts to sing.

I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things we can do the tango just for two I can serenade and gently play on your heartstrings be your Valentino just for you

There’s that pull again – the hypnotic warmth that tangles with Jaskier’s voice and slips beneath Geralt’s skin, making both his medallion and his blood thrum. The rest of the room starts to slowly fade away, blurring at the edges until all Geralt can see is Jaskier and the blue of his eyes.

“Enough,” Vesemir interrupts, and a part of Geralt protests when the veil of enchantment dissolves and he’s left staring at a very ordinary, albeit incredibly attractive man.

“You’re a siren,” Yennefer says. Geralt glances over at her and is comforted to see that she’s shaking off the effects of the magic as well.

“Part siren,” Jaskier corrects. “If I was a full-blooded siren, you’d be doing whatever I wanted right about now.”

“Aren’t all sirens women?” Geralt asks.

“First of all,” Jaskier says, crossing his arms and leaning back against a table, “that’s racist.” Geralt glares at him and Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Second of all, yes, most sirens are female, but I wasn’t always this handsome.”

It clearly takes Geralt too long to piece together what Jaskier’s saying because Yennefer smacks the back of his head and says, “He’s trans, you idiot.”

Geralt frowns, tipping his head to the side as he takes in the scars on Jaskier’s chest and the pin on his lapel again. Jaskier laughs and there’s a tiny pull behind the sound, a soft whisper of the sea.

“It’s okay,” he says, mostly to Yennefer. “He’s the brawn and you’re the brains, am I right?”

Geralt’s about to show Jaskier exactly what kind of brawn he is when Vesemir holds up his hands for silence. “How do you know about Witchers?” he asks Jaskier.

“My Gran,” Jaskier says. He hops up on the table and crosses his arms over his chest, shivering. “Any chance I can get something more practical to wear? Your handsome friend here manhandled me away from my regular wardrobe before I could change.”

Geralt sighs, tugging off the sweater he’s wearing and tossing it at Jaskier’s head. It leaves him in only a thin t-shirt, but the cold doesn’t bother him. Jaskier shrugs off the leather jacket and pulls Geralt’s sweater on, and Geralt tries hard not to let the sight of Jaskier in his clothes bother him.

Jaskier makes himself comfortable, crossing his legs and tucking his hands into the sleeves of the sweater before continuing. “So. My Gran was a full-blood siren, mum was half, which makes me a quarter, I guess. Just enough to enthrall a room with my lovely voice. Or occasionally get someone weak-willed to do what I want. Like the Force, I guess.”

When everyone stares at him, he sighs, then waves his hand in the air. “These aren’t the droids you’re looking for, that sort of thing. Ugh, you’re a dull crowd.”

“You manipulate people,” Geralt says, ignoring Jaskier’s comments.

“Not people, no,” Jaskier says, shaking his head. “Monster, mostly – werewolves, vampires, things like that. I’m sure you’re familiar.”

“Obviously,” Yennefer says, rolling her eyes.

Jaskier studies her for a moment, head tilted to the side in a strangely endearing manner. “You’re a witch,” he says eventually. “An actual one, too. That spell you used – it was real.”

“Of course it was real,” Yennefer says, staring at him with narrowed eyes. “And it should have worked on you.”

“Most magic doesn’t,” Jaskier says, shrugging. “Gran said it’s because of the siren blood – magic against magic, all that.”

“We don’t have any records of Sirens for hundreds of years,” Vesemir says, tapping a thick tome on the table. “But you’re barely—”

“One hundred and thirty-seven,” Jaskier says lightly. “I know, I don’t look a day over ninety. It’s the skincare routine.”

“You’re immortal?” Geralt asks, frowning.

“Not immortal, no,” Jaskier admits. He looks back over at Geralt, eyes bright and gaze intense. “Just long-lived. My mum was nearly three hundred when she passed a couple years ago. Most of us live elsewhere, anyways – warmer climes, more sailors to lure to their deaths.”

“You said you didn’t—”

“I’m not lying,” Jaskier insists. “I’ve never lured anyone to their death, I swear on my grandmother.” He pauses. “I suppose she lured a few people to their deaths. Not my grandfather, though, and I’m honestly not certain how that happened, she’d never tell me about it.”

Geralt rubs the bridge of his nose – this whole thing is starting to give him a headache. Monsters are for killing, not for… whatever it is they’re doing with Jaskier right now.

“So,” Yennefer says, leaning forward and giving Jaskier a calculating look. “You’re part siren and you use your powers to pretend that you’re Freddie Mercury.”

“Maybe I am Freddie Mercury,” Jaskier replies, grinning. “But yes. I love to sing and it’s not hurting anyone. And every once in a while, I dispatch a monster back to the netherworld, thus fulfilling my part in the prophecy.”

Everyone is silent for a moment, and then Vesemir asks the question that everyone in the room is thinking.

“What prophecy?”

#the witcher #witcher fanfiction #geraskier #geraskier week #2020 geraskier week #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jask #buffy!au #fanfiction #new chapter #update #my fic

24 notes · View notes

bountybossier · 5 years ago

Text

Until Dawn | Morgan & Nic

Takes place the day before the sun yeeted itself. Vampires, snowglobes, the family business.

with: @mor-beck-more-problems

The diary Morgan had borrowed from the Scribe archive had lead to some interesting revelations. First, that the scriptwriters for Final Destination might have been casters with a mean sense of humor, and second, that one of Agnes’ nieces had buried a chest under the homestead shortly before she met a gruesome end in an accident with some clothesline. The homestead had been lost some six years later, of course, but it was entirely possible that the chest remained, and with it, some dirt on what Constance’s deal was, or some artifact that explained why they had been targeted in the first place. And so,scuttling straight from a staff networking dinner at the University, still in her skirt set, Morgan found herself back in the bend at sunset, traipsing through some overgrown grass in search of a magic answer.

The tracking amulet in her hand tingled hot in her hand, leading her towards one of the glorified shacks along the street and around the back. Morgan crept awkwardly into the overgrowth and began to dig, unaware of anyone else nearby. The sooner she got in, the sooner she could get out.

The hunter treated himself to a small six-shooter of whiskey before he left to deal with the night’s bounty. It wouldn’t be a complicated one from what he read over. A palate cleanser in comparison to the other fuckery that poked about in White Crest’s moldy and sea-cured corners. It didn’t surprise Nicodemus that most of the bounties came for shit out in The Bend. The rundown motel he stayed in was somehow the safest, yet still one of the shadiest fucking buildings in that particular godforsaken corner of White Crest. He checked himself over subtly as he walked. Vest on, stakes in jacket, guns on hips, knives in boots and one strapped around a thigh. Holy water in a nice iron flask. The dark didn’t matter to him as he took back alleys and precariously hopped over decaying fences. The place indicated wasn’t too far and when he finally got to it, he nodded an affirmation.

Yup, sure looked like a fucking vampire drug den. Quiet. Foreboding. Sounded about right. He was just in it to get some dust. Except it wasn’t all entirely quiet. He stopped walking and listened. Something digging? He didn’t smell dog or any other type of critter. His senses would be no help. He stepped into the overgrowth with a crunch. If he knew that someone else was there, only fair that he did the same? He continued until he reached the end of the overgrowth and stood in a disgusting backyard. A brow rose as he made a slow 360 turn. He spoke up, voice low and level.

“This your shitty house?”

Morgan yelped at the sound of another voice and wheeled around, shovel raised high. “No!” Wait--that made her sound like she was trespassing. Which she was, technically, if this place belonged to anyone still. But the large scary man in front of her didn’t need to know that. “I mean, it’s not shitty, it’s--rustic! And what are you doing here, exactly?” She positioned herself over the hole she was digging. Until the stranger had shown up, she’d been sure she was almost there. “Weird time of night to be wandering around with--” She eyed the gear bulging from his sturdy frame. Shit. “--all that. Could be dangerous.”

“Rustic’s just a fancy way of sayin’ shitty,” Nicodemus grumbled out as he looked at her, a curious brow lifted ever slightly. At her question, he frowned and glanced up at the house. “...Scavenger hunt.” Was the only explanation he gave, flimsy and half-assed. He didn’t have to explain anything and who knew, maybe she was one of those sympathetic types like Orion? “What are you doin’ diggin’ around then?” Given his own shit explanation, he didn’t expect much from hers either. And that would be fair. What wasn’t fair was the crunch and rustle that had his nerves immediately on edge. Something hostile was getting closer and wasn’t likely to stop. “Yeah, likely could be.” He grabbed for one of the three stakes he had brought with him and immediately lunged, body slamming into a vampire that had started to run up on them. From behind them, he heard more. A hell of a lot more, maybe eight or so. Shit. “God fuckin’ damn it,” he grunted as he wedged the stake in the vampire’s chest, the body poofing. A young and dumb one. Hopefully the rest were like that. He turned to look at the woman and gestured to the house before he started to head up, not moving too far from her. “Fuckin’ A, come on! They ain’t happy!”

“Scavenger hunt,” Morgan repeated, voice shrill as she found herself caught between fear and incredulity. She didn’t exactly feel like doing anything to upset the big scary man with too many weapons on him, but his excuse seemed even thinner than her own. Morgan shifted and tried, discreetly, to reach down into the earth for the chest. “What? Don’t you ever bury things for safekeeping ever? That’s like one of the safest oldest ways in the book.” And if the chest really was just there beneath the surface, if she could just picture the simplest, most obvious way it looked, and pull-- a shape appeared out of nowhere, lunging her way. Morgan stumbled backwards with a sharp cry of fright. Big Scary Man took out a stake and wedged it into the chest as if he’d been doing it his whole life.

She followed his gaze into the dark and-- Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Better to be with the big scary man with the stake than the big scary vampires with the teeth. Morgan sprinted as best she could behind him. This wasn’t how she died, and it wasn’t going to be how she got maimed again either. She scampered up to the house and skidded to a stop, digging her fingers into the dirt and pressing down with her forearm until her cuff was firm in the ground as well. Morgan pushed with all the ‘I really don’t wanna get maimed today’ energy she had brimming at the surface. The earth in front of her dipped and sandy bricks walled the space between the vampires and the ramshackle house. Morgan closed her doors before she could form a whole perimeter. Bricks would never hold for long in the first place, but maybe she’d have a few extra minutes to come up with something better. She darted inside and shut the door, kept running. How many ways to get in were there? “So! Uh, how many of those stakes do you have? And uh, how many doors in this place do you think we got?”

Nicodemus glanced back in time to catch the dirt shift and pull at the woman’s beck and call. Alright. Infinitely in a better spot than he would have been had it just been a regular person digging in the dirt for whatever fucking reason. “Nah, not a scavenger hunt. Sure I had you goin’ for a second,” he deadpanned, a less-than-pleased frown on his face as he started to move through the house. “Lookin’ for treasure then, huh?” The bricks would do what they could, but hungry vampires could get through anything when they wanted to. He grumbled angrily to himself as he pushed open a weak door and it collapsed right off the hinges. Fucking fantastic. “I got…” Fuck. He’d left the one he used outside. “I got two.” He took out one and handed it to her as he checked corners. The house was much larger on the inside than it was outside. He swore in French. Listening, he heard the bricks breaking apart against each other. “Looks like three. One front, that back door, and a side door. Maybe a...” He rattled off the information to her as he pulled open a basement door. “Yup, a basement. That’s not countin’ every goddamn window.” They were shuttered and planks hammered over them but still. He shook his head and looked at her. “I’m thinkin’ basement or upstairs. Funnel ‘em.”

“Two! Okay! One for me, and one for you! That’s fine, that’s totally plenty, definitely not gonna run out and wish we had more!” Morgan was rambling with panic. She was getting distressingly familiar with tumbling headfirst into near death situations; if she barrelled on determinedly enough, her mind and body might not catch up to each other in time for a full blown freak-out to set in. “There wouldn’t happen to be anything super special about stakes would there? Like could you rip the floor open with your big scary hands and use that in a pinch? Is that a stupid question?” Bricks crunched outside as the vampires burst through her wall. Morgan’s brain flitted between her options. Upstairs: a long way to fall. Basement: a lot of house to collapse. Not much of a way out either way. The house trembled. Glass rained down overhead, unseen. Some of them were coming in from above. Morgan gave the Big Scary Man a horrified look. “So, Scary Basement?”

Whatever it was that compelled the world to spin, it truly was testing Nicodemus. He didn’t know how to deal with panicking people. That was the main reason he tried to keep things out of sight, out of mind. A month or two in White Crest proved that trying to keep up with that method would be useless. “Just don’t fuckin’ lose it and you’ll be fine,” he said to her, expression grim. There wasn’t much confidence behind that statement but it was something at least. “Nah, if it’s wood and got a stabby point, it works.” He glanced at his hands, brow furrowed. Yeah, he supposed they were big and scary. Big and scary enough to work against potentially drugged out vampires. He stared at her. “Ease up there, you ain’t gonna die. Probably. I don’t plan on dyin’ so just...stay by me or some shit.” His gaze flickered up at the crash of glass and windows. To the side at broken brick. “Basement, come on. Probably got shit down there too!” He opened the door and gestured in. As he stepped down, a minute-long stretch of French swears flowed out of him at the sight of empty coffins. “Well, that’s just real fuckin’ groovy.” He thought back to her question about stakes. “Lose that, use that.” The basement door cracked open and the first of the vampires started to filter down. The hunter didn’t wait and barreled at the first as soon as they came down, stake in hand.

“Who said anything about dying? You think we’re gonna die?” Morgan shrieked. Footsteps thumped overhead, sending dust down on them. Don’t lose it. She wasn’t losing it. This was only the what time she was questioning fate and mortality in the past month? Was this why her mom hadn’t wanted her in a supernatural hotspot? Because freak falling accidents could turn into chased and maimed by vampires in the hands of the curse? But Morgan wasn’t losing it! She scampered down to the basement, her mind only thinking a few seconds ahead. Don’t trip on the stairs and break something! Don’t run into the terrifying coffins! Morgan didn’t have time to say, we’re totally cornered, before there were vampires coming down the stairs.

“Fucking stars!” She squealed, jumping to the ground. The big scary man was handling things on his own just fine, with all the punching and slamming and staking. She looked at the stake in her hand. She wasn’t sure how she could work up that much force in her arms to make that happen, but then again, there was one jumping the rail and coming at her, fang bared and eyes blazing. “No!” She put out her hands and pushed, not with physical force, but with the energy around her, with her fear and her exasperation. The vampire flew against the stair railing, hard enough to crack the wood. Morgan looked uncertainly at the big scary man. At least she hadn’t been hit yet, right? Then again, the vampire was already getting to its feet and looking several kinds of unhappy. Morgan moved her attention to her stake. How much force would she need to use that again?

“Fuckin’ Christ, no! We’re not gonna fuckin’ die.” His hearing and her shouting forced him to flinch. Nicodemus was preoccupied with the vampire quite literally at hand. The hunter a year ago wouldn’t have thought much of the swarm of vampires, alone or not. But now? White Crest opened something in him, or maybe it tried to put something messily back together with schoolhouse glue, that he had left well enough alone in him. He glanced over at the stranger as the vampire underneath him burst into ash and dusted the basement floor. His heartbeat was slow and steady in his chest even as the swarm of--ten, he counted--fell in line on the stairs. What he wouldn’t have given for a big fuck off spear.

He reached for the iron flask on his hip and took a swig of it before he swiftly closed it back up. Another vampire crashed down on him and took him off balance. Fangs tried to close around his neck but he spat holy water straight into the vampire’s open eyes and mouth. Undead skin sizzled and in their momentary daze, Nic shoved the stake up and into their still heart. Alright. That made two. He felt eyes on him and he snapped up onto his feet. “In and up! Leverage it.” Ah hell, the vampire she’d shoved away was pissed and he was dealing with another one bearing down on him. “Fuckin’ A, take this! Holy water!” He passed over the water to her and quickly knelt down to grab one of the coffins. With his strength, they weren’t too heavy and he flipped it toward the closest vampire to smash them against the wall along the stairs that led up into the main house. Broken bits of wood burst everywhere. He grunted and rolled his wrist that held the stake. His expression grew slightly more enthused. “Yeah, they ain’t gon’ make it easy, huh?”

Morgan had the stake in the air, primed to thrust. When the vampire she’d thrown lunged, she sent it in, full force--in and not quite up. For an awful moment she and the vampire looked at each other, expecting something very different. Fortunately, a small scary bottle of holy water came her way. Morgan popped it open and swung, letting water arc over the vampire and turn its flesh into something much less stable than marbly skin. This was her chance. Morgan knew it. Still, she couldn’t help but whine wordlessly as she rushed forwards and worked the stake upwards as the man had instructed. She kept her hands fastened on the stake and shoved it upwards. The writhing vampire turned to dust. Morgan didn’t have time to contemplate her victory, a vampire was grabbing her by the arm and shoving her against the wall. Morgan cried out and shoved the stake in again. She had to get out of this corner. Morgan reached with her power for one of the coffin splinters and sent them outward to the next one chasing her as she scrambled to join the hunter (he had to be a hunter, right?) on the other side of the basement. At least one had to land, right?

As the vampire on her collapsed to dust, Nicodemus breathed just slightly easier. He wasn’t getting tired but he was concerned they’d run out of goddamn resources. Fuck, this was why he didn’t commit himself to the hunter mentality of protect all from certain, supernatural death. He shook his head, cracked his jaw as a vampire slugged him. He knocked the vampire in the nose and scraped his knuckles on sharp teeth, but managed to use the shock to his advantage as he burrowed the stake in with cold calculation. He laughed with bloody teeth. “Good shit,” he grunted out as she came to stand by him, both equally covered in vampire ash and dust. The splinters of wood she sent out seemed to pepper the remaining vampires and one gave a sharp scream of an inhalation as a particularly large one dug into their chest. He would need to look into some kinda stake launcher if he kept this shit up.

Either their numbers were starting to slow down or they were doing a decent fucking job for a ragtag team. And just when he almost started to feel good, another showed. He glanced up, to a small boarded up window. If that was blown open, they wouldn’t be able to hide from the dawn that would steadily creep up. “Got an idea. Gonna need your help, alright?” He flexed his fingers around the stake and reached with a free hand to grab the handgun on his hip. “Gonna bust that fucker open--” He gestured to the window. “And block that door. A few hours, sun’s gonna come. Take care of this shit. Can’t go anywhere.” He spoke fast as he shifted and glanced back. “Plenty of wood and shit we can barricade with back there, I think. Keep ‘em back.” He glanced at her. “Sound good?”

There was something strange about the Big Scary Man as he spoke to her that made Morgan uncomfortable. Something that was almost warm. It was out of place in a room full of vampires and their dust. But this wasn’t time for uncanny epiphanies or evaluating the guy as anything other than the person helping her to not die. “Block the door,” she repeated. “Got it. Easy enough! Y-you’ve done this before, a lot, huh?” She began to inch towards the door. If there was any metal in the lock, it would make a good start. There was still the wall. She was feeling kinda tired, almost spent. Again. But not getting maimed was always a good reason to blow the magic piggy bank. She braced herself for the sound of his gunshot and tensed to run.

“Yeah, more than I fuckin’ care to admit. Just punchin’ in time,” Nicodemus muttered to her before he spat blood. Without much of a warning, he free-aimed at the window and blew five 9mm holes into it. In the basement, the gun was loud and he braced against the impact of his sensitive ears. The wood was old and hadn’t much give to it, the way that it fractured and splintered outward. Moonlight spilled in. He grunted and turned on his heels, eyes between her and the undead that stood between them, their gazes unsure of where to look. Bracing his gun hand underneath with the hand that held the stake, he spent the rest of his clip hitting skulls as he backed up toward the small room at the back of the basement that could be made into a temporary safe haven. Behind the smoking gun, he peered over at her and loaded another clip. Bullets wouldn’t put them down but they’d be enough to stun. “You got it?”

Morgan sprinted as soon as the bullets were done flying. Guns. Of all the fucking things, it had to be guns. Worst of all, she was relieved he had one so they didn’t have to separate. Once inside the smaller room, a storage cupboard, by the looks of it. There were even some questionable looking cans still on the rotted shelves. She reached for the table by the door and shoved it in front of them. Then the shelves. “Help me!” She said. When there was a sizable pile, Morgan reached down with a ‘this is seriously not the time to get maimed or die’ push and turned it all into a heavy mush of wood and metal that was definitely not supposed to exist but would, in all events, keep them safe. “So,” she said, backing to the end of the room, breathing hard from the rush, “You um, have a name?”

“Give me a fuckin’ second.” The hunter followed close behind and followed suit in stacking as much heavy shit as he could against the door. A grunted string of Cajun French happened under his breath as Nicodemus gently tested the barricade just to be sure. If that’s what it could be called. Yeah, it’d hold for the next… He scrubbed vampire dust off his watch and squinted. Couple hours. Christ. At least by the end of it, the sun would be out and there’d be more dust than he or the client ever asked for. To little success, he tried to clean his bloody and dusty face. With ash stuck in his eyelashes, he turned to look at her with a frown. “...yeah, fuck it, might as well start a damn campfire…” For all his grumbles and French swears, he was too tired to be genuinely bothered by the circumstances. It worked itself out. He sat down heavily and tipped his head back against the wall. “Sure do. Nicodemus. You?” He peered over at her. Fuck, his head was killing him. “Magic, huh?”

Morgan sank down to the floor and sent a quick message to Cece about a change of plans for the evening. She didn’t want her falling into the same vampire trap she and Nicodemus were in, and if this was the brand of fuckery her curse wanted to throw at her now that she was on a hotspot, she should get used to handling herself without her help anyway. She tucked her knees up to her chest and forced herself to breathe evenly. In. Hold. Out. “Morgan,” she replied at last. “And, yeah. Not usually like this, but yeah.” She offered him what she hoped was a winning and ‘don’t hurt me’ smile. “I have an Etsy store, but I can do real things too. Not healing, unfortunately, but if you need to turn stuff into other stuff? Um, I do a lot with rocks.” In. Hold. Out. “What, um, what do you like to do, Nic? When you’re not, um, doing this? O-oh, Is it okay if I call you Nic or do you hate that?”

It didn’t take much to piece together that Morgan, as Nicodemus now knew her, hadn’t exactly seen shit like a vampire swarm before. “Shitty meetin’ like this an’ all, but hell, it fuckin’ worked. Can’t complain.” The fact she had an Etsy store sealed his prior thought and he nodded, a sound of affirmation coming from him. At her smile, he offered a slight frown and a slight dip of his head. “Reckon it takes a lot of you but I don’t know a lot about that whole thing.” The hunter was content to sit in silence but that wasn’t an option. If talking might keep her from assuming the worst would happen, if she even did, a momentary sacrifice could be made. “Can do my own healin’ so I got that bit covered,” he offered gruffly. It was likely she had pieced together what he was and he never felt particularly compelled to cover it. “What’s that? Ain’t that--Shit.” He paused to find the word. “Alchemy? Nicolas whatever his fuckin’ name is?” He snorted and shook his head. “Me? I make snowglobes and…” He trailed. Shit, he really didn’t have any other hobbies. “And Nic’s fine. You good?”

“Alchemy, yeah. And I’m not totally spent, but when we get out of this, you’ll probably be the one dismantling uh...all that, once I zap it loose.” She offered him another smile. “And you’re thinking of Nicolas Flamel.” Stupid Harry Potter, spilling all the wrong secrets and getting everything in a twisted, backwards blender for the world to eat like candy. “He wasn’t that special, you know. Most everyone in my family could do this stuff, for starters. But not many people know even as much as you do, so.” She shrugged. This was way more information about a hunter than Morgan was comfortable with. Granted, Nic’s gear seemed pretty vampire specific, and Morgan didn’t have any reason to protect them. If anything, under better circumstances, this might be the time to ask if he knew anything about pretty blondes who liked to hurt witches. But she couldn’t not think of Remmy. Would Nic be kind if they were in this room with him, instead of her? And yet… “Snow Globes?” Really? “...How do you make those?” She asked gently.

“Yeah, think I can do that,” Nicodemus said with a small nod. He shifted to sit cross-legged, elbows in the bends of his knees as he used a hand to crack his neck. That fixed one issue. He looked at the floor as Morgan talked, not keen on eye contact, but continued to listen. “‘Fraid I only know the name, that’s about it. I don’t deal with, uh, magic much. More that shit and other shit.” He gestured to the noise beyond. Given the circumstances, he didn’t mind offering that information freely. Didn’t care all too much either. Just about everyone he had met so far knew what he was in some way or other, for better or for worse. Magic made him slightly uncomfortable but seeing how she used it, how it had helped… His gut instinct wavered some as logic came through. Morgan could have crushed him with a wave of her hand, mashed him between stone, wood, and dust. But she didn’t. He didn’t want to think further than that. Not right then. The hunter smiled to himself, small and only barely hidden. “Yup, snow globes. Ain’t too hard.” Oh shit. He was actually excited to talk about his snowglobes. That was fucking weird. Morgan might have been the first to ask him that in...awhile. “Do the, uh, lid part first. Glue all the shit down and let it set, then water, glycerin, and whatever fancy shit you want in the mason jar. That’s what I use. Put ‘em together and let it dry overnight. Sometimes use holy water too.”

Morgan nodded along to Nic’s explanation. “Kinda glad to know you don’t deal with magic much. This uh, would’ve been a really bad time to find out you moonlight as a witch hunter.” She couldn’t help but laugh nervously. There was a decent amount of scuffling outside as the surviving vampires got up to stars only knew what. She needed to think about something else. Like the snowglobes. Snowglobes out of jars. “Holy water? No way. Isn’t that hard to come by?” Maybe not if you killed vampires like Nic did. Morgan didn’t know what to make of it, putting his weapons into something fragile and pretty to make it happen. “It sounds like really delicate work,” she said thoughtfully. “Do you have any pictures on your phone? I’d like to see what kinda stuff you put in them.”

Nicodemus snorted and shook his head, ran a hand over his face. Dust fell out of his hair and joined the must of the rest of the room’s mustyness. “Nah. Ain’t for me. Other assholes do that. ‘Sides, magic’s...You said you don’t do healin’, but--” He might as well ask while they had another half hour or so to kill before dawn arrived. “--Know anythin’ for headaches? Excedrin ain’t doin’ shit for me.” With his hand, he made a so-so motion. “Just need a faith healer and some water. Ain’t much to it, I don’t think.” Sure there was more to it, the holy logistics or whatever the fuck, but he didn’t pay attention to that. “It can be, yeah,” he looked at her, waited for her to laugh at him. She didn’t. Slowly, he slid his phone out and unlocked it. He showed her a recent one. One with a tombstone and a small raven on top of it. Small skulls hung in the water, along with black glitter. “That, uh, kinda stuff. Whatever shit’s around.” He raised a brow by a slim margin. “Your store...what's it, uh, got?”

“Not really,” Morgan said apologetically. “But my mom had a lot of herbalist recipes. I don’t know if they work harder than Excedrin though. I can brew you a mean tea from her recipe to find out. Give you the card of an acupuncturist who knows a thing or two about this sort of thing.” She took the phone into her hands and looked at it. Deirdre must have been rubbing off on her, because the skulls in the graveyard looked kinda cute. “Do you make them for other people too? I’d like to have one like that. With the little tombstone, and some bones?” She handed it back, almost warmed by the careful craftsmanship. “Oh, nothing like that. Crystals and candles, mostly, and I started working in bath salts. They’re good for easing your muscles, if you’ve got some tension and time for a good soak, but there’s nothing special about them.” It was all so normal, so nice, and yet Morgan’s skin was crawling in the wake of these revelations. Kaden all over again, except worse because Nic wasn’t much of an asshole. He was rough around the edges, a little scary looking, but all he’d done since they met was help her. “Nic, can I ask you a weird personal question? You don’t have to answer, obviously, but… how did you get sucked into this?” She nodded towards the vampires at the barricade. “Why do you do it?”

“Tea’d probably work better than the fuckin’ whiskey I’ve been nursin’,” Nicodemus admitted. “If it...ain’t weird after this whole damn mess, yeah, that’d be...nice, I guess.” He watched her face as he showed her the snowglobe. Still, she didn’t laugh. Morgan actually seemed to appreciate it. Unlike some assholes that laughed it off as something stupid and a waste of time. Early in his life, he hadn’t counted on snowglobes keeping him sane, yet there he was. Stuck in a supply closet with a witch, discussing business tactics while covered in the remains of even deader vampires. The hunter might even consider it surreal but nothing fucking surprised him any more. Might as well be getting too old for that shit. “Bath salts? Be careful with that shit if Florida’s got anythin’ to say about it…” he trailed off as he listened to the vampires outside. They seemed to grow increasingly restless. Good. Sun would be up soon enough. “Never thought about makin’ ‘em for other people but...could give it a shot or somethin’.” Never had anyone around to make them for, admittedly. He didn’t expect his life to transition from bounty hunter for hire to professional snowglobe maker anytime soon, but it was a funny thought to entertain. As soon as he heard the words personal question, he had a feeling what it might be. “Ain’t weird, Morgan. Most people ask the same shit,” he said, words harsh but tone less so. He was too tired for that and he sighed heavily before he spoke. “Same way as most hunters. Family business an’ all. Pays like anythin’ else.” Monotone and straight to the point. From the corner of his eye, he looked at her. “That bother you?”

“I would get one from you,” Morgan said, risking a look Nic’s way. She wasn’t sure what her face was doing, if he could see that she was scared, or that she was trying to understand, to reconcile his hard-edged kindness with the deeds that had brought him here. “I’d pay you, or at least offer a fair trade.” He could be capable of more than just hurting people. That was the strangest and saddest thing of all. She turned her attention back to the barricade. Family business? LIke he’d been raised into it, without a chance to know better, or be better? Morgan was starting to understand a little, but the picture didn’t make her feel any less sick. “Do you like it?” She asked. “Is it just all you know, or--” She shook her head, unsure how to finish her thoughts. “I ask because I know people. They just want to be good, and get from one day to the next. They just want to get to be themselves, to be known by people, and be safe. And back home--” She hesitated. “I mean, that’s all I want too. I want a nice, small life. But back home, there were a times where that was unnecessarily hard, because of laws, and casual cruelty, and because I knew if I tried too hard--” Well, her curse might snatch that up for one thing. But for another, “Someone might decide to hurt me. Or kill me, just for that. And so I just...I can’t help but feel for them. These people I know. Does that make sense…?”

“Holy shit. Really?” The response was immediate, completely unfiltered. Nicodemus blinked, stared straight ahead at the mess ahead of them. Her face was moving but he couldn’t tell what way she was looking at him. “I mean, fuck. Yeah, sure. Whatever.” He kept his gaze straight ahead at her question, but his fingers started to tap against his thigh at an unsteady rhythm. Damn it. It would have been better to not say anything. In his experience, it usually was. His jaw worked, teeth quietly rubbing against each other. He didn’t have to look at Morgan to get a sense of how she might be looking at him that time. “Ain’t about likin’ it,” he said stiffly as he back stepped into nigh-unbreachable stoicism. “If I liked it, I’d be dead.” Young hunters always got too zealous, too in over their heads with the black-and-white morality that older hunters tried to peddle. Like Samson tried and nearly succeeded to do with him. He didn’t say much else as he listened to her talk. It was a strange place, a strange situation, to be discussing morality or how one went about surviving. Or maybe, with vampires trapped behind a blockade of their own making, it wasn’t. What the hell did he know? He remained impassive as she talked. When the quiet settled, he checked his watch. The dead would be burning soon.

“Yeah...Yeah, it’s what I know,” he finally said as he looked at Morgan. “I decide what I do. What, who, I go after. I used to not. I’ve met...people too. Here.” The worst part of it all? Maybe, somewhere, he was starting to feel for them too. Every fucking day. Every person he met took slim shards of him away. Even after this, she likely would too. And still, he kept on how he did. He didn’t know how to cope. Didn’t know how to be without that torch he carried, the bonfire he promised to start all on his own. “Sometimes I decide not to. I could’ve decided not to tonight,” he said as he ran a hand through his short hair and sat up straighter. “Best that I did, huh?” It wasn’t the right time to laugh, but he did in a hollow sort of way that didn’t dig deep. In a few minutes, his watch would chime. The laugh faded fast and he rolled his head back against the dirty wall. “I ain’t gonna hurt you, Morgan. Want you to know that.”

“Yes, really,” Morgan said softly. “They’re beautiful. And that one reminds me of someone I care about. I’d either give one like it to her, or keep it to think about her. And aren’t snowglobes meant to remind you of wonderful things anyway? It’s perfect.” She wondered if Nic saw his potential beyond death, or if all the blood and this, what was it hunters told themselves? The word of some god? Another fucking duty to break their souls into pieces over? Nic, at least, had some kind of code, some kind of discretion. He said he knew people and Morgan wanted to believe him. Someone who could use their hands to make beautiful, fragile things out of the ordinary should be the kind of person with at least a little kindness, and the awareness to exercise it. “I am glad you decided to, since it’s the only reason I’m alive right now,” she admitted. There wasn’t much relief to be had there however. “And I am, still alive and breathing and not a vampire or a zombie, so I do feel safe enough with you. And I do…” Shit. She couldn’t stop and change her mind now. “...I do think you want to be a good person. That counts for something. And, I mean, sometimes being big and scary can save the day. But sometimes what makes things better is more like a snow globe. You can do lots of things, Nic. I hope you know that.”

The hunter thought of the one kept right on his nightstand. All purple, green, and gold. That dumb alligator looking at him every morning. Discomfort rose up in Nicodemus like sickness. Morgan was kind, impossibly so, to him. She could have just as easily not said a fucking word to him, sit it out in silence and wait for the dust to settle. But she didn’t. She got him talking, even got him to show a snowglobe. The things he felt so peculiarly protective over, even if his rough hands fumbled the glass and there were slim nicks in his skin to prove it. He chanced looking at her as she spoke. “Yeah, might’ve been dead myself,” he said with a shrug. “Here’s to buried shit, huh?” His gaze went to the mess ahead of them and his head cocked some as the infernal screaming started. An awful sound to most ears. Nic just wanted it to be over. How that stacked up against her statement of him wanting to be a good person, he didn’t know and he grunted. The line of his jaw softened by a thin margin as he stood up. Being big and scary is what would get them out of their makeshift sanctuary and as the vampiric screaming startled to dwindle, he cracked his neck. Later, he could consider the depth of her words. How they didn’t just stick to his skin like burs but instead, burrowed. “Got all that from a snowglobe?” The hunter forced a faint smile as he braced himself and started shoving against the mass, pushing until it started to give under his own weight and hell-given strength. “...Guess I do, yeah.”

Morgan didn’t laugh. There was a horrible, too real sound coming from the other side of the door. She wouldn’t have done anything different. They’d given chase, and attacked, trying to take her life. This was fair. And sometimes, fairness wasn’t pretty. Morgan breathed slowly, carefully, and waited for it to be over. She shrugged at his question. “More like from you, but sure,” she said. She got up and waited for Nic to move her barricade out of the way. He was so strong, she didn’t even have to zap the parts loose after all. “Um...I’m glad, that you do. Don’t forget anytime soon, okay? You’re not a thing. You’re more.” She exhaled with relief when the door opened. Ash and sunlight, and a way out.

#wickedswriting #chatzy #chatzy: until dawn #c: morgan #// this broke me #kat and morgan broke me #i loved this SO SO MUCH #A GIFT AND AN HONOR

13 notes · View notes

imacrowcawcaw · 5 years ago

Text

Blood Brothers (Sanny)

*Smut alert! Smut alert! Also blood drinking during the smut!*

Author (As known on Various sites): Lady Lover - Rockfic, luluthechoosingcrow- AO3, theladylovingcrow - Wattpad and Deviantart, @imacrowcawcaw - main Tumblr, @theladylovingcrow writing/art Tumblr, @sammy_bluebells - Instagram

Fandom: Greta Van Fleet

Pairing: Sam Kiszka/Danny Wagner (Sanny)

Word Count: about 2500

Warnings/Tags: Vampire AU, blood drinking, gay pairing, smut (finger sucking, rim job, anal sex, masturbation), soulmates, cuddling, fluff, kinda angsty beginning, hurt/comfort, sweet ending

Summary: "He leaned forward to nuzzle his face into the crook of Sam's neck, smelling the coconut oil in his hair and the rich rush of life flowing just below his skin. Danny licked at his jugular, giving it a small, almost affectionate nip before grabbing Sam's arm that was around his back and bringing it forward."

Author's Notes:

Inspired by this post with @satans-helper 's tags and just her generally lovely self:) https://satans-helper.tumblr.com/post/188261333372/edyaleda-greta-van-fleet-by-lewis-vorn

Ahh I finished this hours ago but my phone died before I could post it and I was away from home :( But here it is! Hope everyone enjoys the smutty content lol

----------------------

"What do you *mean* she got away?" Sam screeched, looking, just for a second, like a crazed, homicidal *creature*.

Danny shrugged helplessly, running a nervous hand down the front of his faded red jacket. The dried blood on his sleeve was barely noticeable on top of the fabric.

"I don't know! I mean, I was about to go through with it, but then she- she..." he paused, big eyes staring pleadingingly at Sam. "Her mom called her, and she asked for just a minute because she never, ever misses one of her mom's phone calls. And she sounded so happy, so full of life and love and I just couldn't take that from her."

Sam looked back into Danny's slightly wet eyes, and sighed. He wanted to be mad - they hadn't eaten in weeks - but he knew that he would have done the same thing in that moment. Jake was by far the best at getting food.

"We gotta get better at this, babe. You know we can't afford to keep letting them go, not when Joshie and Jake are gone. We have to be tough."

"But it's not right! You know I can't do that to someone! I'm trying to be strong but I'm just too weak. I can't do this, Sammy."

"You're not weak, love, you have a fiercly gentle soul. Nothing can change all the care and compassion you have for people. And I love that you're still so soft, it's one of the most beautiful things about you." In fact, Danny had gotten even gentler as the years passed.

Sam pulled Danny into a hug, mindful of not breaking anything. Just because they could heal ridiculously fast didn't mean he was going to hurt his brother on purpose.

"I just- I feel like I'm not fit to be this, to do this. I'm not ready, and I probably never will be. Wouldn't you want someone else?" Danny whispered into Sam's hair, holding onto him tightly like he was afraid Sam might actually banish him.

"You fit because you're *you*, I wouldn't want anyone else. *We* wouldn't want anyone else, Danny," Sam amended. It didn't matter what his conscious was telling him, Danny had been a part of their family from the very start, way before, even. "You're stuck with us forever now, whether you like it or not. "

Danny chuckled softly, but it was a melancholy laugh, not one of genuine amusement.

"But that means you guys are stuck with me, too. And I can't, can't *hunt*" he forced the word out of his throat like it physically pained him to say it.

"Alright, enough of this self deprecating bullshit. I love you, big man. I'm *in love* with you, which means that I love your quirks, look past your flaws, and accept you for as you are. You can't hunt? You know it's hard for me too, but between the twins and what I can manage to do we'll have plenty, you don't need to. I want you with us because you belong with us, not because of the survival advantages or whatever animal bullshit you're thinking this is. Stop it! I love you, we love you, and we want you here with us!"

It was rare for Sam to get angry, and even then it was often more out of frustration and failed communication than true malice. He didn't know how else to get it through Danny's hair-padded-head that he was as much a part of their family as anybody else.

"Alright, you sap, I get it!" Danny muttered, sounding a little lighter. Sam knew from the tone of his voice that he didn't entirely believe him, but it was a start.

"I *am* sorry I didn't get her, though. I'm really hungry."

Sam sighed and pulled back to look at Danny, arms still around his waist. He didn't want to make him feel worse, but Sam was also seriously needing nourishment. They might technically be starving, actually, and not just in the oh-my-gosh-im-soooo-hungry way.

"Well, I don't think we're gonna be able to get anymore tonight, but there is still..." Sam trailed off, raising a provocative brow and tilting his head so his long tresses swung back, revealing the tendons of his neck.

Danny frowned again. "Sam, you know I wouldn't ever harm you like tha-"

"You wouldn't be! We've talked about this, honey, I've even researched it. It's completely, one hundred percent safe. It's just a little comfort, okay? I know that it won't really satiate the hunger, but I want you, you want me, and it will make us feel good for a while, you know it will."

"But- but we... I... fuck, Sammy," Danny murmered, protests all but forgotten at the sight of his favorite treat: his Sammy.

He leaned forward to nuzzle his face into the crook of Sam's neck, smelling the coconut oil in his hair and the rich rush of life flowing just below his skin. Danny licked at his jugular, giving it a small, almost affectionate nip before grabbing Sam's arm that was around his back and bringing it forward.

Sam's breathing got heavier as Danny rolled up his sleeve, running his hands lovingly over the baby soft inside of his wrist. He could feel his blood pumping, at this point less in his body than there should be as a healthy creature of the night much less a regular mortal. Their diet the last few weeks had been sparse thanks to the two main hunters of their family being gone on what they referred to as a "business trip".

Danny looked up right as he was about to attach his mouth to Sam, eyes shy but laced with a burning hunger he couldn't disguise. It was so endearing how he always cared for Sam - looked out for him, checked with him to make sure everything was all right when no one else would - even as he was about to feast on his blood.

Sam smiled encouragingly at him, eyes heavy lidded and arousal starting to thrum throughout his lower half. They'd discovered that this, the act of sharing blood with eachother, could be incredibly erotic and intimate. Another reason Danny didn't like "hunting" for victims: it was only something he wanted to share with Sam. Even if he didn't let the other person drink from him or have sexual intercourse, it was just too much like cheating to his tastes.

The taste of the blood, however, was sweet. Danny tried to remember what his taste buds were like before; couldn't. Nowadays, everything else was rather bland and muted, everything except blood. It was thick and bitterly sweet, like dark chocolate melted into a bowl and stirred up with sugar.

He drank, knowing he couldn't take much and so savoring every drop that Sam offered him. Danny kept his mouth latched onto the bite, couldn't release to breathe even if he wanted to, lest anything dripped onto the floor. Wouldn't do to waste what they had so precious little of.

Sam made a noise in the back of his throat, a strangled moan of both pain and pleasure. Danny finally pulled back, first holding Sam's wrist above his mouth so that the few drops of blood that could escape before the wound healed could be caught.

Danny was panting heavily, having drunken for nearly a minute without so much as a second-long break. His puplis were beautifully dilated, hiding most of his hazel irises, and they looked at Sam with such a strong message of love and devotion it nearly made him sob.

Now Danny presented his own arm to Sam, running his fingers over Sam's soft, full lips. He felt Sam's mouth part, his sharp canines running over his own skin and nearly slicing open the tip of his thumb.

Sam carefully pricked and sliced each of Danny's fingers, laving his tongue up and down them to catch the blood. He sucked down the digits with hollowed cheeks and hooded eyes, a sparkling of something ethereal, carnal, deliciously sinful glowing from within him.

Danny kept their otherworldly eyes locked, groaned low for Sam to hear how he was effecting him. He carefully curled his fingers within Sam's mouth, running over his palate and tangling with his tongue. Sam sucked him in deeper, swallowing around him and letting Danny feel the convulsions.

Danny laid a hand on Sam's throat, right below his jaw, and the other cupping his cheek, feeling him work. He rubbed his knuckles against Sam's teeth, reslicing them now that the cuts had healed.

Sam kept licking and drinking and sucking and swallowing, enjoying Danny's uniquely rich flavor of blood. Maybe it was because they were mates - by blood, by soul, by heart and mind - that all others paled in comparison to each other.

Sam pulled off of Danny's hand, taking a step back and hurriedly shucking his dark, expensive clothes carelessly, not giving a damn about the ripping fabric from his desperation-boosted-already-superhuman strength. He started helping Danny remove his own clothing before he got with the program and quickly undressed, too.

Danny spun Sam around, pressing him up against the wall in the living room. He snarled when Sam ground his ass back onto his erection, gripping a skinny bicep in one hand and using the other to hold Sam's wrist to the wall. Danny used his body to flatten Sam until he couldn't move, biting lightly - not enough to break the skin, they *never* drank from the throat, despite what some might believe (they werent *killers*) - at the side of his neck where Sam had flipped his hair side.

Keeping the one hand on Sam's bicep and moving the other to push on his back and keep him still, Danny slowly kneeled down so that his face was level with Sam's ass. He bit into the left cheek, drinking the blood that spurred out, then moved on to even more delicious things.

Sam nearly screamed when Danny's mouth closed over his hole. His mouth let loose high pitched groans and a startled yelp when Danny actually went inside the ring with his tongue, forcing him open on the slick muscle.

Danny ate him until he was sloppy and begging for more, the position bringing out Sam's more submissive side. The fingers that were on his arm joined Danny's mouth in exploring Sam's ass, one gently circling and then sliding inside. He moved it in and out for a time alongside his tongue, then added another.

Danny's fingers worked in a V formation, his tongue flicking at the rim of Sam's hole in between them. As he added the third finger and really started to stretch, Danny pulled back so he could watch how Sam's ass clenched down on him. Sam was moaning and thrusting backwards, chasing the brushes of Danny's fingertips against his prostate.

"I'm ready! Please, baby, fuck me, I'm so ready for you."

Danny stood up, keeping his fingers inside of Sam. "You want it? Gonna take me in, love me, hold me? Want you to," he said into Sam's ear, pumping his fingers hard and fast, the weight of his body the only thing holding Sam up against the wall. "Wanna be inside you, fuck you til you scream my name. Fuck, Sammy, so pretty, so sexy. Love you so much."

Danny removed his fingers, and Sam whimpered at the loss as he was turned around again. Sam wrapped his arms around Danny's neck, bringing his heaving chest against Danny's broader one and drawing him into a kiss. They kissed pationately, lips sliding against each other.

Sam pulled away with a gasp, letting Danny hitch him upwards so he could wrap his legs around him. Danny used one hand to guide himself inside of Sam below their connected hip bones, slowly easing the head in as Sam threw his head back and groaned.

They set a slow pace at first, Sam gripping Danny's shoulders nearly tight enough to break the bone. He moaned with his head thrown back, long column of his throat inviting Danny to suck hickeys onto the expanse of skin.

"Fuck! Faster Danny, c'mon an' do me good, honey..."

Danny grunted and sped up in compliance, effortlessly holding Sam up with one arm so that his other could run through Sam's lustrous hair. He snapped his hips, angling down just a little so that his cock rubbed at Sam's prostate.

"Danny! Oh, my god! DaaAANNNNNYYYY!" Sam shrieked, the name of his lover being pounded put of him and drawn out into a scream of intense pleasure.

Sam circled the head of his dick with his fingers, letting it gain the friction he needed to come from their moving stomachs. He orgasmed with the most beautiful expression Danny had ever seen on his face.

Danny fucked him through it, pistoning his hips right against his sweet spot and letting the rhythmic clenching take him over the edge, too.

"Ugnnn, Sam..."

They stood there - or, Danny stood there with his hands on Sam's ass and his mate's skinny legs hanging limp on either side of his hips, foreheads together. Sam panted against Danny's mouth, coming down from his orgasm with a blissed out, satisfied look on his face.

"I love you," Danny said to him, kissing his cheek tenderly.

"I love you too, so much," Sam replied, rubbing their noses together in a feline kiss.

Sam sighed when he got down from his perch on Danny's canted hips. They kissed again, soft and sweet this time, licking at the dried blood smeared across each other's mouths.

"C'mon, come lay down with me."

Danny took Sam's hand, let him lead them down the hall towards the giant memory foam king in the room to the left. Jake said it was ironic that they nearly maxed out a credit card on nice mattresses and bedding when they didn't sleep, but that didn't stop him from enjoying his own. Sam reminded him that there were other things one can do in a bed besides sleep, and that he'd definitely heard Jakey 'use' his mattress in that way.

Danny curled around Sam, wrapping his long limbs around him and pulling up their weighted comforter.

"Hey, why were you wearing a suit? Planning on going out?"

"Planning on *taking* you out," Sam corrected, noting the slight hint of not-quite-jealousy-not-quite-curiosity in Danny's voice. "I was thinking we could go to that nice German restaurant we drove past on Tuesday, I've been craving that schnitzel from the pub in Frankenmuth Village."

"You know it won't taste like it used to, Sammy, even if it was made by Herr Michels."

Sam sighed, "Yeah, I know. But, I still wanna go somewhere nice with you. Show off my man."

Danny laughed softly, tightening his arm around Sam's abdomen.

"Okay, we can go in a little bit. I wanna hold you first, though."

Sam rolled over in his arms, giving Danny an affectionate look. He kissed him, then rested his head on Danny's shoulder. They lay there, basked in the glow of the rising moon, not able to sleep but enjoying each other's company.

They were as connected as connected could be. No longer could anyone say that they weren't brothers, weren't related. They were blood brothers, blood lovers, soulmates for eternity. Their family would continue on in it's love forever.

33 notes · View notes