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living--on--coffee · 17 days ago

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The Hunt

Part 1/2

Hunter becomes the hunted.

vampire hunter!reader x vampire!john mactavish x vampire!simon riley

Tags: vampire!john mactavish, vampire! simon riley, vampire hunter!reader, pretty much the hunter becomes the hunted trope tbh, vampire bites, reader is a hunter but also kind of like a detective, gore, blackmailing, predator/prey, vampire bites are aphrodisiac

"Teenage girl, seventeen years old. She was found dead in her room by her family. Nobody saw anyone, nor heard anything. At first they didn't think it was a vampire, the scene was so gory that it was hard to believe a vampire would waste so much blood like that." Blonde woman paused to take a sip from her tea. You watched her slender fingers fiddle with the edge of her mug, waiting for her words to settle. You took a deep breath, Laswell's office always smelled so nice, oak tree and tea with a hint of cigeratte smoke.

"What do you think?" she shifted back in her chair.

"Well, so much to unpack here. Those are not usual vampire behaviours. Vampires only care about blood, not where it comes from."

They don't follow a girl to her house and wait for the right time to break into her house, you think.

When a vampire fails to suppress their feeding urge, they usually go after easy preys. People they can easily snatch away from an empty alleyway, bar bathrooms, places where very few people can see them. They don't become mindless creatures the moment they haven't sunken their fangs into something squishy in days.

"The girl is different. Why else would one of them fuck her first and kill her in the worst way possible? She clearly had something going on with them."

Laswell is nonchalant, cold-blooded all the time which makes her perfect for her job. She's a fast thinker, always good at bringing the pieces together. You've barely seen her take on a case and not know what to do, sit empty handed with a puzzled expression.

This time was an exception.

Fourth murder of the year, and you still haven't even gotten a fucking name.

Laswell's patience was wearing thin. And at this rate, you didn’t have it in you to blame her.

"They all did. That's why we're looking for the suspects that had connections with the victims, not some random vampires that happened to be passing by."

You wanted to defend yourself saying you had already checked their contacts, went through their electronic devices countless of times, searched for the smallest piece of evidence in the crime scene-

"What about the crime scene, anything new?"

Oh, the crime scene.

Blood scent was thick in the air. That was your first impression. The room was filled with sickening smell of rotten flesh and something else that got you bringing your arm collar to your nose.

There was blood, too much of it. That was the second. It adorned the room, not leaving a corner uncovered. It splattered across the walls, some of it onto the band posters on the walls to make deformed patches on the squeky paper. A big amount of it dripped down the bedframe so much that it managed to make a puddle thick enough to make vibrant red stand out on the dark parquet floor.

It was everywhere except for where it belonged, the cold body that rested on the soft bed sheets.

You approached the body with slow steps. The closer you got the worse it got. Once blurry sight turned into a gory mess of broken bones and ripped flesh. Brittle bones jutted out of a carved open chest. If you looked closer you could see the organ that once pumped the essence of life through her body for years, only to be drained off of all it's purpose along with it's owner.

You wanted to graze your fingers on where flesh was torn the most, the rugged edges that had been too weak to withstand the cruel swipes of fangs and claws. Maybe that way you would be able to feel all that glorious force yourself, see what exactly a determined vampire could do, see what you're getting yourself into. You cling dearly to bring together what little remains of the vampire's presence, desperate for the tiniest sign that could help you piece the puzzle together.

Finger-shaped blood stains made a trail leading to her navel. Scrapes and bruises littered her soft thighs. Deep nasty groves making a stark contrast on silky skin. Between her legs was an even bigger mess. Dried blood and semen clung to the curls between her legs.

Blood and grime caked under her fingernails, a futile attempt to harm her attacker. You could form an image, though the barely there certainity held your imagination back it wasn't hard at all to get goosebumps at the slightest thought of the savagery. Being invaded both body and soul and against all your best attempts all your defenses which you trust the most failing you, they're just not enough-

She had fought nail and teeth, literally. She tried to use her blunts nails against them. With no assuration she'd still fought for this was all she could do.

What a horrible fate she must've went through,tou thought. She deserved to be alive, fine with a hopeful mind that was fortunate enough to not experience any of these. You wanted to mourn over her life, her youth, everything that had been taken away she never got to enjoy. Maybe with a want that stemmed from wanting to find a companion to your emotionally state you turn your head up, to where her face sits over a battered neck.

Your eyes rake over her bloody neck, mouth. Dead, sunken eyes with deep purple marks around them. It was sad really, at such a young age-

Something was off.

It was some kind of a thought coming from the basest part of you. Like you just noticed something you hadn't before. When you did, you knew it was uncanny, something wrong.

Her face, as a whole, had a serene expression. You wondered if it was your imagination or an optical illuson from how little you slept. You looked closer, to the subtle curve of her lips, to the keen light that still managed to stay behind there. It was trying to tell you something, someth-

"Her face..." words leave your mouth before you could stop them. "She...looked serene."

Shock and judgement contorts her face. She looks like she can't decide whether to scowl at you or simply seek therapy for you. Before she can say something cutting you step in.

"We can't keep doing this."

Laswell gives you a faltered expression. You continue. "We just wait for a new murder to happen and do the same things we did in the previous cases. We need something different."

"What should we do then? Enlighten me."

You take a deep breath.

"Let me do my job. Send me to that club."

"We don't have enough evidance to have a permission to organize such mission."

"That's right but what about I go there alone, as a civilian? You won't need to sneak in any teams, I will just gather information and-"

"Send you inside alone? No, absolutely not." she interrupts.

"I was trained for this. I will be fine." you try to convince her.

"The moment they find out who you really are they will tear you to shreds."

You close your mouth at that. You both know that there's truth to her words. You pause.

"I can't just wait here doing nothing."

It sounds like pleading. You could feel yourself work up the courage to ask for that permission again. Somewhere inside you where your sense of duty and fear clashes.

"I will think about it"

You don't know if you're content or terrified by the possibility that lays behind that sentence.

You're sitting on your bed, facing the wall.

If a vampire was to come into your room and decide to kill you, could you put up a fight?

You have a gun in your nightstand's drawer, loaded with silver bullets. A knife under your pillow. A silver dagger in your pocket at all times.

If they were to come into your room, would you be able to pull out your knife and stab it into their heart? Watch them bleed and writhe in agony before they can get to you?

Probably not.

You're only human, after all. A bait in best case scenarios. Even when you've spent years training to fight vampires, that only makes you harder to kill for them. Your training only delays the inevitable. Never the hunter, but a stronger prey. It eats your mind.

All your work, your hopes, your ambitions. Do they even matter? You feel like you're a child and everyone around you is trying to keep you occupied with less important things to avert your attention away from the real problems. It's like they know what having your job means, like they are trying to protect you. You find their efforts insulting.

That doesn't mean you don't find some truth about their concerns. You wish you could.

The club is loud. Walls are painted red and black, they turn into navy blue and purple when exposed to blue lights. Your form blends in with the crowd, blue lightning highlights your form, your skin. In your mind It seeps right through you, showing how transparent you're, just like you intended.

You put effort to look this way, to look casual. Opposite of eye-catching. Your hair is resting on your shoulders, your pants hugging your legs nicely but still comfortable enough to let you use your legs freely. Your leather jacket hiding the silver dagger strapped to your side.

You slice through the crowd, smell of stale alcohol and sweat fills your senses. You watch people come and go, each one of them telling a different story. You check them out if they're vampire or not mentally as a result of working for years in your field. Even though differentiating vampires from humans is almost impossible just from the looks, your eyes linger on a few who don't bother with hiding themselves.

Bright, platinium blonde hair of the vampire curtains her ivory fangs flashing behind red, luscious lips. You watch, hypnotized as they arrive at their destination, to the frail neck of some brunette girl. Sharp tips brushed against vulnerable flesh, leaving red trace in their wake. Manicured nails clinging to her hair only encouraged them more.

You feel a shudder shoot up your spine. Junkees, you think.

A familiar face shows up in the crowd. Graves, who is your partner for the night.

You never liked graves. You'd tried to get along with him as your coworker, have a respectable relationship together, you really did, but it never worked out. Not when the guy is acting like a literal creep.

When you were at the funeral of a fallen comrade he dared to make a senseless comment about how glad he was it hadn't been you because it'd be a shame for someone as pretty as you to die so early. Still he's experienced in his field and better than nothing.

You flinch when Graves' hand snakes down to pet your ass softly.

You glare at him in a way only he can see and dance out of his reach with slow steps.

Two steps back, turn around, stare at people, read the room. Answers are hidden in the plain sight. They can be in the aphrodisiac that drips from the vampire's fangs 2 metres away from you or in the eyes that never ceased their stare since the you stepped into the club, always on your back, always watching.

Some man comes into your view, blocking your vision. His eyes fixated on you as you swing to sides. It takes about 2 minutes until his focus shifts, clearly displeased at your lack of interest. When it does you look for Graves wanting to keep on dragging the two of you to the spots in the club that you've yet to see. That's when your stomach sinks, he is nowhere to be found.

You feel cold all of a sudden. All the sweat that gathered on your skin from the humid air turned ice cold, leaving you shivery and faint. You check the crowd, turn your head to your left and right, draw a big circle around the room. But he's just gone.

You round a sharp corner that leads you to a dark corridor, only lightened dimly by a light source coming from somewhere your vision can't quite reach.

Here you are, standing in an eerie corridor in a building surrounded by vampires all by yourself. Your hand itches near your pockets, you tell yourself it's to grab your weapons if necessary, not to reach your phone and call Laswell and beg her for backup.

You don't know where you're going, and certainly not what's waiting for you on the other end of this corridor. But you have a gut feeling that you're about to find out soon.

Your ears perk up at the sound of squeking boots coming behind you. Your hand readily finds the silver handle in a swiftness born from years of experience and training. Though you react a little too late because strong arms come out of nowhere and slam your back against the wall. You let out a stifled groan.

The man gets closer, his facial features highlightens and it's hard to not notice two longer fangs jutting out behind his lips.

Panic rises in your body, your blood vessels tightens, forcing the liquid in your veins to run faster. Your hands are useless, unmobilized by vampire's hand.

It's over, you think. You're completely at the man's mercy, if he decides that he wants have a little more blood than usual he can suck you dry right here and now.

To your unfortune, by the looks of him, it seems about the right time you start begging for mercy. You have never been bitten before, and with the experience you got over the years from your job, you know what happens once you do. You swallow your pride

His fangs elongate, a strange glow blends into his irises. A characteristhic feature about the nature of vampires that have had the lab workers in the base fussing their head over to figure out what the hell it is. It's known to manifest visions, snake the vampire into vulnerable human brain. You close your eyes and wait for what's to come. His breath ghosts near your ear.

"You should've never came here dumb, little human." his cracked voice murmured into your ear.

There's a grunt, a rush of air hits your face. When you open your eyes you're greeted by the brawl of two men on the ground and a not so stranger face.

Mactavish.

He's a vampire, one of the stronger ones that shows with how quickly he knocked the man to the ground. In a blur of motion he has the man by the scruff of his neck. Before the man can make a move to defend himself, he punches the man's teeth in with such force that you hear bones crunching.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

You must be more shaken than you thought and it must show to your face because when you don't answer he closes the distance between you and gently holds your shoulders. "Are you okay?"

You're hesitant at answering him. Your eyes feel heated and there's a bump in your throat. Making you feel like you'll start bawling like a child if you were to say a word.

So you just nod shakily, averting your gaze away from him as you try to force your racing pulse to slow down. Your breath events out, the presence of another vampire in the room is hard to dismiss in your shaken state, but you kind of manage. What the fuck were you doing here, really? This place is the last place a lone human should be, instead you-

Graves. You were looking for Graves.

How long time had you lost standing here? With a newfound panic, you look up to him with wide eyes.

"Graves, he was with me in the club but then he just disappeared. I need to find hi-"

A blood curling scream interrupts you. Instictively you both turn your head to the end of the corridor, to the direction the sound came from.

You thoughtlessly start to run. A thousand possibilities fill your mind as you sprint through the corridor.

It ends in a dark alleyway. The kind of alleyway people makes sure to avoid walking.

There are blood drops on the ground and Graves is nowhere to be found.

He took him.

First you hear sirens, then screams coming from inside of the club and shuffling of footsteps. You turn around to check on Mactavish. You find him gone.

Your name echoes in Laswell's office, snapping your attention back to her. You feel so big, vast, hard to miss in the small room. Like a whale put in a small pond, nowhere to run from the piercing glares and stinging words.

You want to shrink into yourself, curl up on the floor and die. But you don't because you're in no position to be embaressed. That'd be too merciful for you. Not what you deserve for your actions.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Laswell condemns. Her voice is loud by her standarts, if you were a civilian you would've jolted in your seat.

You don't jolt, you don't flinch. Your irresponsibility caused this. You don't open you mouth for even once to correct her or to defend yourself, instead you take her words, suck them up.

It all turns into a blur. Far away you're wandering in different places, present in the room and not at the same time. You understand every word yet you're content with just throwing them away. So rooted in yourself that you're convinced you're already aware of what she has to say to you.

"You're taken from this case."

One sentence is enough for your self-controlled dazed state to shatter into pieces. The pieces burst through your ears making a hoeling sound, they flow through your blood vessels with their icy edges, making your skin go cold.

"I arrested people for less."

Raindrops pitter patter against the windshield of your car. Autumn air is set heavy, trying to get into the warmness of your car yet failing. All it can do is to manifest itself as foggy remains on the car windows.

You've been sitting in your car and drinking. After two beers and some wine that got into your system you're still thirsty, your need for a calm mind is more evident than ever.

You're not drunk yet, maybe a tad tipsy. You waryly eye the bag of groceries in the backseat. The vodka bottle peeks out from the bag, looking very inviting at the moment.

A man walks past the parking lot. Even when drunk, your senses are alert. Corner of your vision catches his imposing figure, wide shoulders.

His eyes give him away.

Even after figuring him out his eyes spare you from actually observing him. They just grasp your attention like a thread and make themselves known even from such distance. They're so captivating that you feel exposed even though you're the watcher here. The safety of your car doesn't stop your imagination from creating phantom sensations of someone watching you.

You don't think much about it. You're out of the car following him in an instant.

You put a considerable distance between. When he enters some pub you wait for fifteen minutes before stepping inside.

The pub is mundane, a place nice to be around. People's chitter-chattering fills the room, laughter flows freely. You take a seat near a bar counter and casually order a beer.

You rake over the tables while sipping your beer. When your eyes land on your target you smile.

He's sitting there, chatting with someone you can't see past your blocked view.

You can't help but once again be charmed by him. His energy is enchanting, It's radiating off him. You nearly gasp when he flashes his perfect smile to whoever lucky person is sitting across him. His presence almost offends you, almost.

You go back to sulking in your chair. "Just get on with it." you think. You turn around to give him an inviting smile, a flirty one, maybe. You have a short-lived panic when you can't find him where you left.

"Are you following me?" a deep voice says from the chair next to you. You nearly crawl out of your skin. You missed he's as skilled as you. Still you force yourself to reciprociate. Snap back with the same fever.

"That's my line."you protest.

He gives you a blank stare, weighing your words. His eyes lit up when he finally gets it. His previous cockines slowly vanishes into understanding. He's taken back, you see the oppurtunity and attack.

"What were you doing in that club?"

You can feel it, his uneasiness. His grimace is a defence shield, a useless attempt at appearing cool but failing. Or so you hope.

"Sometimes I think you forget that I'm an officer too, lass." he mocks. You want to punch him in the face.

"Graves died and you were there."

"Laswell was worried you were up to something stupid."he explains calmly while ordering a new drink. This sentence is enough to shut you up. Laswell trusted another person to complete the holes in your case.

You shift back into your seat in defeat, though you're not about to reveal this to him soon.

To your dismay, he seems to pick on your mood. "Laswell was thinking about involving me in this case for a long while."

You open your mouth to protest but you look up to see that smirk.

"Don't be so judgeful yet, you haven't even tried me."

...

You've been well acquainted to the rumors, gossips about Mactavish.

At first everyone had taken him with caution, with the disbelief that he was even allowed to exist here. Your superiors had convinced you that having a vampire by their side had been the best decision ever.

He's like a machine, more durable than any vampire hunter they've had.

After all, only a vampire can withstand the force of one of their kind.

Their words had been stinging, but they had some truth to them. As much as having him was the same as having a fox in a coop full of chickens, he'd proved himself with killing tens of his kind. After this point whatever critism one had for him would beg the questions to their performance as a hunter.

His position as a vampire hunter is a contrast to everything you had to learn.

Vampires cannot be trusted. They could be anyone, anything and you wouldn't even notice until it's too late.

After all, humans have very valid reasons not to trust vampires. Vampires literally evolved to hunt humans.

They adapted to being a parasite species, they used evolution to their advantage, letting it shape them into being what they're in the present day.

They come from the deepest pits of hell. Their power is serpentine, it unravels through their eye sockets, wriggles it's way through feeble human mind. Carves a nest in the brain, seeping into every little crevice and curve, rotting the brain from inside to the point of no return. When they finallyTheir eyes lurk

In most scenarios the victim becomes dependent on them. Obsessed, being left with no chance but having their mind high on their venom. The victim obliviously becomes addicted to them, letting them feed on their blood, body, mind for the smallest amount of venom. The life is slowly being sucked dry off them, yet they still beg for more.

A dangerous obsession that in most scenarios ends in death.

It's a cloudy tuesday. The exhaustion from the past month slowly wears off like autumn leaves falling off the trees in your yard.

You have some phone calls from Graves' family, rightfully worried about his case and how will you handle it. At first you got rude comments and blamings for not being enough. The time seemed to soothe their hate a bit.

You arrive at your home and step through the doorstep. You're prepared to slip out of your shoes when you notice something odd about your house. It smells like... roses? Rose scent is not your pick for the room sprays. It doesn't take you long to notice a bouquet of roses sitting on the floor a few steps away.

There'd been someone in your home.

There's a trail of rose petals. You pull out your gun follow the rose petals like it's a path of blood trail. You walk past your kitchen, climb the stairs. All the while you check out the other rooms.

Rose petals end in your bedroom. They lead to a big box laying on your bed. The packaging looks expensive, decorated with a tasteful manner.

You go to the bathroom to grab some plastic gloves. You slip your fingers through the powdery rubber. You wield the box, keep it near your ear, shake it and try to figure out what's inside. Whatever is inside it sounds soft, like ruffling of fabric.

You decide it's not a bomb or something dangerous and start to work on the packaging. The thick ribbon unfurls like water under your hands. After other materials of packaging are gone you peek at the things that greet you from the box.

At the top is another package from a luxirous clothing brand. You twist your face in disgust when you unfold the fabric and see it's a red pair of lingerie. You try to ignore it. Under it is a small fancy jewellery box with a golden necklace in it. You test it's weight in your palm and gawk at the size of the stone at the end of it. You're not sure if it's real or not, but the workmanship alone must've costed hundreds.

There are smaller items stashed in the box: A red lipstick, a bottle of wine and a smaller box.

The small box is different from the others, it doesn't have a brand name written on it. In fact, it looks more like the handiwork of a middle school kid. The packaging is neatly done, but minor flaws succeed to show themselves. You imagine slightly shaking hands from excitement wrapping it.

Surprised to find such personal touch after all the expensive brands in the box, you open it with the caution, unsure what to expect.

You touch over the velvet fabric draped on the thing. It has sturdy, hard ridges that give away when pressed on them. Covered in some squishy, fleshy material.

Your blood goes cold when you understand what it is. To test your assumption you smooth your hand over the fabric, feeling the perfect shape of a human hand underneath.

Your hands shake as you lift the fabric and peek to the hand that was cut from the wrist. You almost throw the box to the across the room while you hyperventilate and once again be face to face with the reality of your job.

You notice a note at the bottom of the box. Crooked letters littered around the thick paper that says:

-I want to see you in those.

They took the hand, gave the rest of the box back to you after investigation. Probably didn't know what to do with the lingerie, you thought.

Crime scene investigators had stormed in when you explained what you had found. They inspected every corner of your house that they probably know more about your house than you at this point.

You leaned back in your office chair as you fiddled with your pen. You hear a knock on your door.

"It's me, Johnny, can I come in?" Johnny asks. You tell him to come in. He brings a file with him.

"I found something. Some residants reported a man wearing a skull mask. It's worth to take a look into." he says as he makes himself home with dragging a chair in front of your desk.

A skull mask. You remember the night Graves was taken. You nod slowly. "He might be our guy." you approve.

Johnny hands you over the files. He eyes you as you rake over the files. He looks like he has something to say and he would burst if he couldn't say it.

"What?" you try to urge him on.

He looks somewhat confused. "Did you find some kind of note in the box? Or a letter? He obviously wanted your attention, at that point why not leave an explanation?" he asks innocently.

You feel like you've been caught red-handed. How could he know? You didn’t tell anyone about the note.

"No, there was nothing."

Johnny nods understandingly.

"So, are you going to stay in your house? It must be uncomfortable knowing a killer just got into your house. If you need a place I can help." he offers.

"Thank you but I'm staying over at my friend's. You're right It would be very uncomfortable." you half lie. You told your friend you'd stay for a week, but you know after three days you'd find a hotel to stay, reluctant to overstay your welcome.

"The box, I heard our killer has a good taste in presents. The girls are still talking about the lipstick." Johnny makes an attempt to soften the conversation.

"Oh yeah, I was shocked when I first saw it. I don't understand why would he go through this. Not to mention the pric-"

"Well, after spending all that money he better has chosen some pieces that suit your taste." he interrupts. Then he frowns like he tries to remember something.

"Uh, like the lingerie."

Your eyes widen.

"What?"

He looks at you like he doesn't understand why you're surprised at such casual question.

"The lingerie, as example. Did you like it?"

The drive to the motel is silent.

You have to admit, it's better than you expected. The dust makes itself known as soon as you pull the curtains to sides to let some light in, but still that's better than staying back home.

You change into your sleep clothes, do your skincare, comb your hair. You do anything to make it feel like home, to feel the blissful ignorance.

You pull the sheets over your head and you realize that you forgot something.

Your pillow feels too soft, as if lacking something hard, something with a weight under it. Your hand itches to grab the cold metal, desperate to feel the security that comes from it's sharp edges, the glint of silver that dance over it.

You end up putting a silver knife under your pillow, another on the nightstand.

At least now you don't feel as vulnerable.

There are hands roaming your body. Large palms pawing at your hips, a warm breath ghosting over your neck. A deep voice whispers words into your ear you can't quite decipher.

Your mattress shifts under the weight of a second person. You feel the cold all over your body now. Whoever, whatever it is, the thing is huge. It blankets your body with it's massive frame. Your body twitches, desperately tries to jolt you awake so you can face the danger, or run away from it.

You hear footsteps that are not of the person above you. There's a third person in the room with you. You open your eyes.

You try to push the bulk off your body, try to squirm free but fail. You turn your head to the side to see who's the second man, but your head is roughly yanked to the side. Your eyes meet with cold, soulless eyes, dark like the pits of hell. You slip back into your sleepy haze, but still fully awake.

Fangs glint like knifes in the dark, you try to scream loud enough to rattle the motel, but instead only pathetic whimpers get out. Someone hushes you, pets your hair when tears stream down your cheeks.

A wet tongue laves over your pulse, your breath is shortened to hiccups now. A maw attaches itself onto your neck, and finally it bites into your neck, drawing your blood from your veins.

Your mouth opens on a silent scream, the mouth that's not biting you closes on yours.

You wake drenched in sweat and dread still clinging to your bones. There's coldness in your chest, as if your heart is pumping ice and not blood.

Pain ghosts over your neck. You shoot you hand up to feel it, your hand comes back clean.

You wriggle out of your sheets, trying to let your sleep sweat dry off first to warm yourself. Your hands are numb as you check the time from your phone.

It's seven in the morning. There's a notification you need to squint your eyes to read. Your heartbeat almost stops when you see it's from Laswell.

-See me when you're here.

You stare blankly for one minute, trying to understand if you're in trouble or not. You weigh the possibilities and let your dream slowly dissolve into thin air. When you try to remember what it was about darkness and carnage are the only things that paint your mind.

"They caught someone, a vampire. His DNA matches with the samples we've gotten from all three murders. However, we suspect that he doesn't work alone, you might want to interrogate him." She ends with an exasperated sigh.

With a nod you make a move to get out.

"Wait." Laswell says. When she has your attention back she continues.

"He wanted to talk to you. He said your name. " She says slowly, tentatively. As if she can't even trust her own words. It's your turn to be surprised.

"What?"

"We tried interrogating him while you gave your statement for the night. He said he won't talk unless it's you who's interrogating him."

There are a lot of things you want to say. Instead you just give her a shaky nod and close the door behind you.

The room they keep vampires is not like your usual interrogation room. It is sound-proof. There are two doors next to each other to deal with the lackness of human eye that can't catch up with super vampire speed. Handcuffs are thicker, made of a stronger element than iron, so is the mirrored glass in front of you.

You approach the mirrored glass. The vampire is tied to a metal chair. Even with his hunching posture he looks imposing, threatening. The fact that he's restrained by heavy chains doesn't silence the small part of you that shys away. There's blood all over his hands and up to his arms, corners of his mouth. The chains look a little too tight around his bulging muscles. He's muscular everywhere, his arms, his thighs, his neck-

"Are you going to just stare or do something here?" The man says without turning his gaze at you. His voice was dark, just like what you had expected from this monster of a man. It was unexpected, he wasn't supposed to see you. It makes you jolt in where you stand. Maybe he felt the vibrations of your footsteps, you think. You decide not to move until he thinks you're gone.

"I can smell you, you're still there." he chuckles darkly. It's merely a chuckle, too dry and raspy to be considered one. Actually there are hints of mocking in his tone.

You sigh and decide there's no meaning in hiding. You open the first door with scanning your card, and then the second one. When you're inside the door clicks shut behind you.

The man stirs, he tilts his head to your direction, though you know it's more of a show.

You loudly drag the metal chair and situation yourself in front of him with putting a considerable distance between you and him.

"How do you know my name?"You ask.

He doesn't answer, just like you thought.

"Unbind me."he demands.

His useless attempt almost makes you laugh.

"Why would I do that

"If you cooperate we might consider making you some favors." you try again.

He tilts his head.

"What do you want?" his voice is gruff, low in pitch, yet it still manages to seep into your brain.

"A location. Tell me where is Phillips Graves."

He huffs amusedly at your demand.

"I don't want to spoil the surprise, love. Figured you'd want to find whatever is left of him all by yourself."

His words make you sick to your stomach. The implication hidden behind them is enough to make you worry about your position in the eyes of your coworkers. You try to regain your authority over him.

"You're sentenced for-"

"Did you like your present?" he interrupts.

"I picked out the contents very mindfully. I even asked your friend for help, it was kind of him to lend a helping hand in." he ends his sentence with a dry chuckle. You don't find his joke funny.

"Where is he?" you say sternly.

"What am I getting out of this?"

Nothing, you want to say.

"The court will grant your cooperation positively, I can say." you explain.

He shakes his head.

"Will you wear the lingerie I bought you? Spread your legs, and bare your neck for me?"

His lewd comments makes your cheeks warm. You're glad he can't see the shocked expression on your face.

"That won't happen."

"Or should I do it myself? One of those nights I can just come through your window and prove you wrong."

After witnessing how easily he broke into your house you know very well that he can. That's why his words send chills up your spine.

But now is different. He's chained, restrained, you're safe.

It's your turn to chuckle.

"You're chained to a chair in a high security room, you will rot for the rest of your life in a prison cell. You're not going anywhere."

The man in front of you shifts in his seat. You hear the creaking metal, clinking of chains. It's okay, you think. That seat was made to withstand hundreds of pounds of force.

The metal bends, something in the air snaps.

He's on you in an instant.

Broken chains dangle from his limbs as he lounges at you. You shout at him to get away. You don't make it to the door when he lays all his body weight on you, caging you between the ground and his bulk.

He huffs like a beast above you. His breath hits the back of your head. When you try to shout for help he grabs you by the scruff of your neck and shakes. You whimper when he buries his face in your neck, right above your pulse point. He inhales deeply.

"You smell different, not like you do when you're sleeping." you thrash harder at his words. You can feel his smile against your neck, his fangs scratching the skin there.

"My big, scary hunter, are you afraid?" he says mockingly.

It doesn't take long after that and armed guards storm in the room, haul him off your body. They half-drag you shocked form out the room.

In your stumble you manage to get a glimpse of him behind you, calm as ever, showing no signs of struggle as guards restrict him once again. Like he got what he wanted.

There's a content smile on his lips. A wry, awful thing. Like he just accomplished his plan.

You park your car near the warehouse.

Birds chirp in the background, the sun gleams bright over the rusty planes of the warehouse. The warehouse is sturdy, still thriving in a way but looks like It hasn't had a touch up for years.

You idle around the building for a while. You check its surroundings, the houses around that looks like nobody lived in them in the past five years.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. A message pops up in your screen. It's from Johnny.

-Sorry, just had a change in plans.

You roll your eyes at the message. You're about to march back to your car when you suddenly have a strong urge to go on. Something deep in your senses tells you to move on, keep going until you find your target.

You're not the one to ignore your sixth sense, not when it hasn't failed you yet.

The door creaks when you push it open. The room is not very dark, just light enough to make out your surroundings.

The first room is mostly empty. There are supplies scattered on the floor, they have a thick layer of dust gathered on them from years of disuse.

You pass through the corridor and center a new room. It's smaller and smells like chemicals. The room has no windows, It's very dark. You turn on your flashlight.

It's shocking to see so many pictures on the table, on to the walls and everywhere. You squint your eyes to get a better look. When you realize the face in the pictures is actually yours your blood turns ice cold.

Pictures taken of you at work, out in a Cafe, in your house. Pictures of you talking, laughing, crying. Your breath hitches when you notice they're not only photographs but also classified informations none outside of work should know. Personal information of the victims, your coworkers, you.

You almost jump out of your skin when your phone rings. It's Laswell. You answer it with shaky hands.

"I-"

"Now listen carefully. There's been a situation." Her voice is anxious.

"What situation?"

"He broke out. We're still searching how he did it but wherever you are, you're not safe. Find-"

A thump sounded from outside. Your hand holding the phone freezes, you stay quiet as Laswell keeps speaking on the other end. You end the call, turn off your flashlight.

You grasp your knife so tight your knuckles turn white.

Someone is forcing open the door, you can't just wait there in the open. You can't outrun a vampire, but you can hide until the help arrives. So you dive into pitch darkness.

From what little you remember you try to navigate through the room. If only you could get to the back door-

You come to a halt in your steps. The sudden coldness envelopes you. Your eyes are too weak to see in the dark, but your senses paint an enough picture of what could be towering over you right now. The coldness radiates off him and settles deep in your bones. His gaze could drill a hole right through your forehead. You tilt your head up to where you think his face is.

You can't see him, but he can see you.

"Here you are, darling. Did you miss me?" his voice sends chills down your spine.

You make a move to gut him, that only earns you a harsh push into a room near you. You stumble and try to find your footing. You blindly slash your knife through the air, a useless attempt to keep him away. You scream at him to stay away.

For a blissful second, you could almost believe that worked. You're getting cornered deeper into the room, but from what little you could tell he's not around you anymore.

You try to subdue your breathing to normal, taking small steps back.

You scream when you bump into someone, your hand catching on some clothing, a lean chest. After this point, you act on instinct.

You knife lodges into where a heart should lay, in front of his chest, slightly on the left side of his sternum. A painful whimper finds your ears. That's not enough for you.

There's still resistance in his muscles, you take out the knife and stab him again, again and again until his body no longer convulses, until he's nothing but a lifeless body on the ground.

You fall onto your knees next to him. When the adrenaline fades away you break down, a small hiccup escapes your mouth before you can stop it, tears of joy and relief stream down your cheeks.

It's over, it's finally over, you think.

"Very good, good girl." a deep voice says from the entrance of the room.

The lights turn on and you are finally able to see. Your eyes find the blond man by the doorfence first, then they find the man laying motionless on the floor. His face is barely distinguishable from all the blood covering it, but that doesn't stop you from recognizing your coworker you had shared years working with.

Graves, you just killed Graves.

Your eyes flit between the man and Graves as if you can't believe what's happening now is real. You shake your head side to side, put your hands on your head.

"No, no, no." your voice is a hoarse whisper, your voice sound got knotted in your throat.

"I-I didn't, I-"

He doesn't wait for you to explain yourself. He advances on you, pushing you against the wall. When your back meets the wall, he gently grabs your cheek. Your cries are shortened to little hiccups. You weakly push at his chest, try to punch him in the face. He's unfazed at your attempts to hurt him.

"Shh now. Be good for me." he soothes.

He tilts your head up, exposing the delicate skin of your neck. When you understand what he's about to do you struggle with a renewed strength, all to no avail.

He drinks in your smell, his breath tickling the fine hairs on your neck. His fangs graze at your pulse point. You let out a blood curdling scream when they sink into you.

For a moment you think you're being devoured alive.

Your vision is blurry, your legs gave out beneath you, your head cradled by a large hand. You can only whine confusedly when he takes you in his arms and starts walking.

There's one last thing you hear before the world goes black.

"I'm taking you home."

Your neck throbs like a screwdriver is being twisted in it, jolting you awake from your peaceful sleep.

You're cocooned in soft sheets that smell like detergent. The moonlight seeps inside through an open window, just barely illuminating the room.

You sit up in bed and immediately regret it because of the rush of pain from stretching the wound on your neck. You whimper.

Your head feels fuzzy, you can't focus. You don't remember anything. You're chilled, suddenly the room is too cold for you. You look down. You're wearing a black, satin dress. The delicate fabric doing nothing to shield you from the cold. You feel under the straps, there's another clothing underneath. Lacy, dainty-

A lingerie.

You scramble out the bed, scattering the bed sheets to the ground. Standing up so quickly in your weakened state makes your head spin, you stumble forward and someone catches you.

"Easy." Johnny balances you in his arms.

"Simon took too much this time, you'll be fine."he assures. You don't understand.

"What do you mean?" you ask. He doesn't answer.

"Can you walk?"

Like a newborn fawn you try to balance yourself on your shaking legs. He decides you can't and he swoops you up in his arms.

Your head sags as Johnny carries you downstairs. You go into a big room with warmness spreading from a fireplace in the corner. There are two chairs near the fireplace. A man is sitting in one of them, his keen eyes fixated on your form.

You recognize him. It all dawns on you. The memories flood at once into your mind. The terror settling deep in your bones. You trash in Johnny's arms as you approach the vampire. You call him insults, call him a traitor. When he transfers you into Simon's waiting arms you fall silent.

You sit in his lap as he cards his fingers through you hair in a soothing gesture. His breath fans over your head, smelling of blood. Your blood.

"You killed them." your voice waves a little, you tell yourself that's because of your weak state, not because you're scared.

His attention shifts to your words. He only lets out an approving "mhm" sound.

"I got you, you were- how did you even get out?"

His eyes avert to the man behind you.

The hard texture of plastic bumps to the side of your face. Your personal card is being held at the tip of your card holder. It all makes sense.

"I- They will come for me. I'm very important for them." your voice stutters.

"None is coming to save you. If anything, they'd rather have you dead after everything you've done." Johnny calmly explains from behind you. You falter.

"I will just explain everything to them, it was an acciden-"

"It doesn't seem like an accident to me, what do you think Johnny?" Simon asks. What is he talking about?

"No, Simon. It definitely looks like she had been helping us all along."

You understand what they mean very well now. You knew your plan was flawed from the beginning, but you never thought you would fuck up that badly.

You have nowhere to run.

"No, no. I will run away, you will see." you try. It is hard to speak past the knot that has newly formed in your throat.

"You're not going anywhere unless you want to be shot dead. You name is all over the news. Besides," he ducks his head to talk directly into your ear.

"Now that you have my bite, my mark, you can never hide from me. Wherever you're, I will find you."

This sentence makes you feel like your fate just got sealed.

#ghost/soap/reader #johnny mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #vampire!simon #vampire!au #vampire!soap #ghoap x reader #call of duty #cod fanfic

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swordsandholly · 8 months ago

Text

Fancy

Ch 2: Just Be Nice to the Gentlemen, Fancy

Previous | Next | Ao3

NSFW | MDNI

Vampire! Poly 141 x Fem! Plus Size! Reader

Word Count: 7k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

A/N: Y’all are getting updates to two fics in a row bc my Wellbutrin has well and truly kicked in. Say thank you to big pharma or whatever

A week passes. You tucked that wad of cash into your special hiding spot behind the vent above your bed. It still feels like it’s burning a hole through you. You made lists of things everything you could possibly spend it on, how much each item costs individually, how much it might help if you save it. In the end, you decided - rather impulsively - to get all new water filters for your entire apartment. The shower head and both sinks. It eats away most of the cash but you’ve never felt so clean - never realized the amount of sludge sticking to your skin until it wasn’t anymore.

The four men haven’t come back, at least to your knowledge. Most likely they’re done with you after that single meeting. They’ve gone back to Cherry and you’re back to working as a server - having meager tips shoved down the bust of your dress and too rough hands grabbing your inner thighs.

After the gentile treatment you received, though, you feel a bit disgusted. Reminded that they choose to be this way. That vampires aren’t just like that, they aren’t made like that, they choose to treat you - to treat humans - terribly. It makes your gut churn with anger in a way it hasn’t since you were an over-achieving teen sneaking out to attend protests in the lower city square.

It is what it is. Life goes on.

The train lurches on your way to work, as usual. News and advertisements scroll along the screens lining the top of the cabin.

TWO DEAD: LOWER THIRD STREET - BOTH EXSANGUINATED

DISAPPEARANCES CONTINUE TO GROW IN NUMBER IN THE FRENCH QUARTER

ONCE AGAIN THE CITY COUNCIL OVERRULES SUIT FOR HUMAN REPRESENTATIVE CHAIR

UNIDENTIFIED SUBSTANCE FOUND IN JANE DOE

With grit teeth you tear your eyes away. People around you whisper, conspire about what might be going on. As if you all don’t already know what’s happening. As if there isn’t a cancer in this city centuries old.

Nothing is new under the constant night.

Life goes on.

You sigh, quietly checking yourself in the mirror before locking up your things in the employee break room and punching in your time card. Before you can even step foot toward the main floor, a girl with pitch black hair begins charging toward you.

“You!” Cherry stomps up to you, voice cracking with anger. Her platform boots raise her up above your level.

You nearly jump out of your skin, instinctively backing away and against the wall. “W-what -“

“You stole my clients!” She shrieks.

“I- what?”

“Cherry.” The owner warns, appearing behind her. A shadow looming over the two of you. A man ready to grab the scruffs of two warring kittens. A few other girls who just arrived for their shifts stare with wide, nervous eyes.

The last time there was a fight here a girl got her eye stabbed out.

“You took them! They’re my best paying clients and you took them! What did you do, huh? You suck their cocks for free?” Her face is barely an inch from yours and a sharp acrylic nail pokes your chest so harshly you’re surprised it doesn’t break skin.

It’s your turn to fume - face hot and hands balling into fists. “How dare you! I swear to god I-“

“Ladies!” The owner booms, grabbing both your shoulders, effectively putting an end to this little spat before it can escalate further. “Quiet. Our guests will hear you. Cherry, go smoke a cig and cool the fuck off. Fancy, follow me.”

You feel a bit like a child on their way to the principles office as you follow the owner toward the bar, wringing your hands and glancing around wildly. Despite your irritation, fear creeps through every part of you. The other girls are staring - whispering to each other behind perfectly manicured hands.

“I - sir - I really didn’t-“ You stop when that same gold tray is shoved into your hands.

“I don’t care what you did or didn’t do.” He sighs loudly. “They’re requesting you.”

“But I don’t-“

“I. Don’t. Care.” He points at you in much the same fashion as Cherry before him. “Your job is what our guests want you to do. So go do your job”

Your jaw clicks as you shut it. Cherry is glaring absolute fucking daggers at you from the back room, her sparking red dress nearly matching the shade of her face. You can’t blame her. You’re taking her clients, her paycheck, her survival. It makes you feel a bit monstrous, if you’re honest with yourself. There isn’t any time to focus on that too much as you’re ushered to the private booths. There’s no reason for you to give this up, either. If they want you they want you, and it’s their fault for kicking her to the curb.

It’s your survival too, at the end of the day.

It feels eerie to walk down this corridor again. To stand before that heavy curtain again. Your hands don’t shake this time, though. Even with the added tension from your previous interaction they remain steady.

They’re seated the same as before. Simon’s mask is different - a regular balaclava as opposed to the skull. You realize that his eyebrows and lashes are blonde - so strangely soft for such a harsh looking man. They’re all dressed far more casually, it seems. All the way down to Johnny’s sneakers that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe based on the brand. John has traded his suit coat for a simple one with sherpa lining. Kyle braided his hair since last time.

“Evenin’, Fancy.” John smiles warmly. The way it makes your heart flutter is utterly shameful.

“Hello.” You smile, tilting your head and setting down the tray. Same as before. Rinse and repeat. They ordered liquor this time - bourbon, you think. Maybe scotch. Same difference. “You’ve gotten me into trouble.”

“Have we, now?” John drapes an arm over the back of the booth.

“Cherry isn’t exactly happy.” You fake pout as you hand out the glasses. “Thinks I did something salacious to steal you away.”

“How do you know you didn’t?” John gives you a once over. Blue eyes dragging down every curve and angle of your body.

“I suppose I don’t.” You sigh. “Nothing in my right mind, though.”

“Sorry about that, love. It’s for your own good.”

“Right.” The only thing more powerful than plausible deniability is actual deniability. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Can get yer pretty little arse over here.” Johnny grabs you by the waist, setting you down in his lap. You gasp at the sudden motion, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders for balance.

“I think ‘little’ is a bit of a misnomer, there, hun.” You snicker.

“Aye, as it should be.” His hand wanders to pinch your hip.

“You’re a dog, Mr. MacTavish.”

“Och, ye wound me, lass.”

You glance over at Simon briefly, eyes meeting his. He tilts his head forward. Those dark eyes hold no less intensity than before. They take you in like they want to eat you whole. He probably does.

John must signal him - a nod or a curl of finger - because you’re being passed into the center of the booth again and set right up at John’s side. Vampire covens are simple things. Strong hierarchies that are rarely challenged unless a leader falls or fails spectacularly.

Top dog gets the chew toy.

“I like the change of attire.” You smile, tugging at the soft sherpa of his coat.

“Suits not your style?”

“They’re nice… I see so many of them, though.” You lean into his side, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. “Besides, this fits you better, I think. Matches the beard.”

You let your hand venture up to trace along his jaw, reveling in the gentle scratch of his beard. It’s pleasant. Well cared for. You briefly wonder what his budget for beard products is. He leans into the touch. You’ve always wondered how you to feel to them. Is it a gentle warmth or a scorching flame? Either way, they never seem to mind.

“You boys planning on talking business tonight?” You tilt your head.

“Ah, not tonight.” He chuckles, taking your hand and pressing a light kiss to the back of it. “Tonight is purely about rest and relaxation. Need it after the week we’ve had.”

Somehow the other three manage to melt into the background. You might not know much - if anything - about him, but John Price is the type of man to fill a room all on his own. You felt that the first time you saw him.

“I can certainly help with that.” You grin, letting your hand trail up his thigh. You move slowly, waiting to see how he reacts, and go to hook a leg across his lap to straddle him.

To your surprise, he just grabs your waist and sets you back into your seat. “Don’t need to do all that, luv. Just talk with us.”

Part of you wants to laugh. There’s no way guys like this are the lonely, chatty type. But then, as you take in his face, you can see the exhaustion in his eyes. Vampires don’t get bags under their eyes or stress lines, but it still shows. Still swirls in their irises so distinctly.

“Wanted to pick your brain about somethin’, actually.” John sighs, taking a slow sip from his drink.

You scoff. “Me?”

“You’re a smart girl.”

“Am I?” You can’t help but laugh. “What, you need help picking out some lingerie for your mistress?”

John rolls his eyes at you. Kyle chuckles behind him. They’re far more quiet than last time. At least, the little bit you remember form last time.

“Our company has had some recent… expansions.” John mulls his words over carefully, which sets of alarm bells in the back of your mind. “We want to take the opportunity to do something for the lower city.”

“Why?” You spit far too honestly - involuntarily dropping the facade of an escort. What are they doing to pull this out of you? Is it compulsion?

Just as John opens his mouth to answer you, a phone rings. Loud and piercing through the tension in the air. Simon sighs loudly and answers, speaking so low you aren’t sure if he’s speaking at all. All eyes are trained on him. Except yours. You look around at the strain in their faces. The dread.

Simon grunts something before hanging up. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” John demands.

“The kind we can’t leave til’ tomorrow.”

There’s a collective groan throughout the room. Johnny looks like he wants to smash the closest thing he could find.

“Fuckin’ hell…Sorry, darling. Looks like we’ll have to resume this another time.” John sighs loudly and takes your hand to help pull you from the booth. He pauses with you off to the side - glancing over his shoulder and nodding to the others as they pass through the curtain before turning back to you. “Can I trouble you for a kiss at least? To tide me over?”

“Always.” Once again, the response is far too automatic for your liking. Then again, there are worse things than happily kissing a good looking man. Even if he is what he is.

John chuckles. It’s low and rich and causes you to lean forward despite yourself. Sometimes you forget just how alluring they’re built to be. Made to draw you in. An angler fish. John leans forward to meet you, still holding your hand in his. His lips are cool, a little rough but also gentle. There’s a hint of almost desperation in the way he pushes closer before who you can only assume is Simon clears his throat.

“Pay for a full night plus tip - as an apology for leaving so suddenly. Take the rest of the night, dove.” John smiles down at you and presses another tied roll of cash into your palm. “Don’t want my favorite girl having to scrape by for tips after we leave. Bad look, that.”

“T-thanks…” You murmur, keeping your eyes locked on him. Almost afraid to look down at the amount in your hand. There’s a heft to it that you both appreciate and are terrified of.

John pats your hand and leans forward to place a rather chaste kiss on your cheek before disappearing out the curtain just like that first time.

You’re not sure how much more unbridled tenderness you can handle.

~~~

It’s not even a full week before they’re back. This time, it’s just Kyle and Johnny who greet you on the other side of the curtain. That fact should relax you - not having to focus your attention on so many men should make it easier. Instead, it feels foreboding after the way they left last time. It makes your shoulders tense.

Why are you worried about John? A little voice in the back of your head questions. Why are you worried about a fucking vamp?

“Hello.” You murmur, setting the usual tray on the table seemingly in slow motion. “Just the two of you today?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Kyle grins. “We’re more than enough company.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You hum, passing out their drinks and sliding into the curved booth to get between them.

“Nothing to cure a shit week like blowin’ off a little steam with a pretty woman.” Kyle tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his other hand coming to rest on your thigh. Dogs without their leashes.

You hum. “Work got you down? You had that ‘problem’ last time.”

“Och, aye. Been a right bitch lately.” Johnny groans, tilting his head back and slinging an arm around your shoulders on the back of the booth. “At least we got that one bit sorted.”

“It was your own damn fault.” Kyle scoffs at him.

“Oi. Maybe if you payed attention to who-“

Kyle grabs Johnny’s lips, pinching them shut. “Price said not in front of the girl.”

You glance between them. The last thing you need is to be sat in the middle of a vampire brawl. Goodbye mortal plane if so.

That seems to be enough to get Johnny to drop it, opting to throw back his drink in one fell swoop and scoot in closer to you, strong arm looping around your waist.

Kyle’s hands trace down over your shoulders. “You’re a fuckin’ luxury, baby girl.”

“Can I have a kiss, hen?” Johnny leans close, fingers tracing your jaw.

Your lip quirks up. “Can you afford a kiss? Seeing as I’m such a luxury, apparently.”

It’s Kyle who moves next - pulling you fully into his lap and pushing you further into Johnny. “We can afford much more than that, love.”

The tip of a fang grazes your neck. It’s slow, gentile, not nearly enough to break the skin. Not quite a threat.

A promise.

It’s barely a hair of movement. A slight tilt, a minute lean and your lips press against Johnny’s. His lips are cold but softer than you expected. Your hands find his shoulders, his tongue darts across your lower lip and you part for him. A well memorized dance. Kyle’s hands drag up your hips to rest on your waist, holding you in place between them.

“D’you have any idea how good you smell?” Kyle murmurs in your ear.

“Or taste.” Johnny sighs into your lips. You pull back, snickering and wiping your lipstick off his lips. He has the prettiest, dopiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Come home with us?” Kyle asks, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “We’ll take such good care of you.”

“You just got here.” You murmur.

“An’ now we’re askin’ if ye’d like tae come home with us.” Johnny grins.

You tilt your head back, debating on how to ask about pay. It’s a question that needs to be asked, but a sensitive one at the same time. You don’t want to offend, but you don’t want to end up walking away from their home empty handed. Just as you go to open your mouth and subtly talk rates, you’re cut off.

“How’s 5k sound, lovie?” Kyle murmurs. Are they fucking mind readers?

You pray they don’t notice the way you choke briefly, body tensing for a fraction of a second. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit! That’s more than twice what you make in month.

“I’ll take that bewildered stare as a yes.” He laughs, moving a hand from your waist to knead at your hip.

They call a car. You don’t have to explain where you’re going to anyone - being pressed between them is enough. It used to be a little shameful for you to walk out on a man’s arm for the whole club to see. When you were young and not quite so resigned to the state of the world - when you hadn’t quite realized that the only god you should care for is green and made of paper. These days you couldn’t care less. They all know, and they’re all taking part in the same debauchery (or jealous that they can’t afford to.) It’s all goods and services, at the end of the day.

Johnny wastes no time pulling you into his lap as soon as you climb into the car - a massive, black SUV that still smells brand new. At least the seats are soft on your knees as you hover over his lap.

“No, no, full weight on me, bonnie.” He grabs your hips and pushes you to sit on his thighs. “Tha’s it.”

His hand disappears under your skirt, two fingers tracing up your sex through the thin cloth of your underwear. Messily grinding while placing sloppy, open mouth kisses along your neck and shoulder. You gasp and whine as he presses against your clit. Just enough to tease, always moving away before you can properly grind down on him. Fucking tease. Kyle watches with an appreciative grin lazily spread across his face.

Your eyes widen to saucers as you pull up to the building. One of the biggest residential skyscrapers in the city. A glowing paragon. One of only five you can see at all times from any part of the city. You’re pretty sure, if you could get to the top, that you would be able to point out your apartment. If you could see it through the smog, that is.

Kyle pins you to the wall of the elevator, lips intertwined with yours and a hand twisted in your hair. Yours knot into the material of his coat. He tastes like liquor and something you can’t quite place. Something sweeter than candy and far more satisfying.

You glance over his shoulder at Johnny just as the man readjusts his pants. He grins, keeping his hand there to palm himself as soon as he catches your eye.

Cheeky bastard.

The elevator stops so gently you might have missed it if not for the dinging and the doors parting. Kyle pulls you out into a small foyer while Johnny fumbles for a keycard.

You think you might have a heart attack when they slip you through one of the two massive front doors. It has to take up the entire floor - or at least most of it. There’s a whole pool on the right side of the balcony. An area that looks like a greenhouse mirrors it to the left. Floor to ceiling windows allow you to see the faux stars so clearly up here.

“Do you all live here?” You ask quietly, staring around the massive penthouse.

The decor is simple. Dark, heavy woods and expensive, rich toned fabrics. It doesn’t have that sterile air that so many vampire homes have. It looks lived in. Used. Even with the obviously untouched kitchen. To this day you don’t understand why vampire homes have them at all. A formality, you suppose.

Johnny nods. “Och, aye, but John and Si are… workin’.”

You decide it’s probably smartest not to pry into whatever “work” means. “So, the mice will play while the cats are away?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Kyle nods, a little smirk playing across his face.

You glance away, debating on asking a possibly invasive question. You can’t ever be too careful with the hierarchy of covens. “And John doesn’t mind you… having me first?”

They blink at you for a moment before bursting out laughing. Your face heats. It makes you feel childish, as if you asked a stupid question. It’s not a stupid question. It’s perfectly valid! At least thats what you’ve heard from other working girls…

“Oh, no, doll. He doesn’t care.” Kyle grins and hooks an arm around your shoulders.

“Might be a bit miffed he wasnae here tae join in on the fun but he’s not jealous like tha’.” Johnny mimics him with an arm around your waist as they pull you to the side.

The two exchange a look briefly with grins plastered across their faces before turning you to the right and leading you down a short hallway. A large, wooden door opens into a bedroom that could swallow your apartment whole. The decor is a bit chaotic - clothes lay across the floor leading to the bathroom and two walls are covered from the floor to halfway up with drawings and paintings.

You know what you’re here for but you can’t help wandering over to them and staring. They’re so intricate. Every detail rendered perfectly. Some are from the city, others are from far away places you aren’t sure exist anymore. A few portraits of the boys here and there and some other people you don’t know. A sketch of a man with scars littering his strong face catches your eye.

“Whose are these?” You ask in a hushed whisper, as if speaking too loudly will disrupt them.

“Ah, mine.” Johnny saunters up behind you, hands resting on your broad hips.

“They’re beautiful…” You’ve only seen art like this in the museums you visited in school.

“Could do one of ye. Ye’d make a bonnie portrait.” He murmurs, pressing his cheek to yours.

Your gut reaction is to say yes. Is that how you want to be remembered, though? Just another face only immortalized on some creature’s wall. A nameless face from eras gone by. Would he write your name down? Would they remember you in a hundred years? In fifty years? In ten, even?

You settle on a gentle “Maybe.”

Johnny takes the hint, turning you toward the bed where Kyle is already leaned. “Gonnae tear a hole in my damn pants if we donnae get a move on.”

The bed is huge, to say the least. Circular and outfitted with layers upon layers of soft pillows and probably the highest thread count sheets you’ve ever seen. It’s unmade, the comforter falling halfway off one side of it. Not that you need it for what’s to come.

Johnny kneels behind you as soon as you step between Kyle’s legs where he’s sat on the bed. Deft hands unbuckle the straps of your heels. Little nips and kisses trail up your thighs. Kyle reaches around you and presses his lips to yours - so softly - before carefully pulling down the zipper of your dress.

It’s so easy to let them take charge. To be a doll for them to do as they please. There are worse things in life than being delicately undressed by two handsome (and well paying) men. Their hands are far more gentle than you expected while they strip you, muttering little appreciative hums and compliments so low that you almost miss them. You stand bare before them, letting them take you in. Hands and eyes roaming. Johnny presses a sweet kiss to your cunt before standing, sending a little jolt up your spine.

He grins like he won some game you didn’t even know you were playing.

You turn to carefully peel off Johnny’s shirt. Your lip catches in your teeth as you run your hands over hard muscle and through a layer of thick, downy hair that leads to the waistband of his pants. So distracted by the sight before you that you don’t notice Kyle pressing against your back, locking you between them as they kiss above you. A shiver runs through you as you watch their jaws flex and hands grapple for one another.

Fucking Christ.

Sometimes you forget how good it is to fuck people you’re actually attracted to. Even if they are paying customers the same as the rest.

An unceremonious squeak escapes you when you’re suddenly flung onto the bed. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to bounce until Johnny appears on top of you, fingers pinching at the soft fat on your sides and laving at your neck with a cool tongue. He keeps his teeth out of the way as he moves down your body to take your nipple between his lips. Much appreciated.

“Need a taste, bonnie. Ye smell so good. So sweet.” Johnny whines, kneeling between your legs. You watch him lower himself slowly as Kyle slots in behind you, shirt long forgone and hands tracing up your sides to knead at your breasts.

As much as you want to pout at not getting to see Kyle undress, you can’t focus on much other than Johnny’s mouth diving into you. Your instinct is to close your legs at the sudden onslaught, but Johnny’s hands keep them solidly in place - spread wide and hooked around his arms.

“Fuck.” You gasp, head tilting back onto Kyle’s shoulder. Your hand wanders down, carding through Johnny’s mo-hawk. He places a harsh suck to your clit and your fingers tighten around the hair at the base of his neck involuntarily pushing him further into you.

You expect him to be upset, for a brief moment, that you’ve been too rough with him. Took too much charge. Instead he just keens desperately against you, picking up the pace - devouring you like a man starved.

“C-Christ, Johnny!” You gasp, fingers digging further into his scalp and the sheets.

“He likes it when you’re mean t’him.” Kyle murmurs in your ear. “Got him fuckin’ pussy drunk already.”

You roll your hips down onto his tongue as he flattens it against you, grinding his face into your pussy. He shifts, never breaking contact, and slips two thick fingers inside you. You whine, eyes screwed shut as you ride it out. Kyle grabs your chin, tilting you back into a kiss. All it takes is Johnny curling his fingers to send you toppling over the edge, back arching sharply.

Johnny rears back onto his haunches just as you peel your eyes back open, chin slick and shiny. His hands desperately pull at his belt and fly. “Cannae take it anymore.”

Kyle chuckles, smiling down at you. “You’d think after two centuries he’d learn a little patience.”

You smile back, quip dying in your throat as Johnny grinds his uncut cock between your folds - coating it in your slick. Fuck, he’s thick - punching every bit of air in your lungs as he pushes in.

“So fuckin’ warm.” He moans, brow furrowed and lips parted.

Lord help you, he’s beautiful. Even beyond that statuesque perfection all vampires have, he must have been gorgeous in life. Kyle is too, you realize as you tilt your head back to kiss him. You wonder what they would look like with ruddy cheeks - with faces warm as yours is. If Johnny would blush all the way down to his chest. If they tanned. Burnt. Freckled. Ran warm or cold. All the little differences that come with a beating heart.

All thoughts disappear at once as Johnny rolls his hips into you. You gasp, “Please.”

That’s all he needs, apparently, setting a brutal pace off the bat. Pushing you back into Kyle with every thrust with enough force that your teeth nearly knock together. Kyle’s fingers continue to pluck at your nipples. You can feel his still clothed cock pressing against your back, hips twitching at the brief friction.

“Fuck. Alright.” Kyle grunts, moving from behind you - leaving you flopping back on the bed with your hands fisting the sheets. You can hear his belt coming undone but can’t bring yourself to focus on it with Johnny relentlessly pumping into you. That is until Kyle taps the head of his cock against your lips, kneeling beside you.

He’s pretty. Not as thick as Johnny but perfectly proportioned. He doesn’t even have to ask or press forward, you want it between your lips. Seek it out. It’s cool on your tongue, calming under the relentlessness that is Johnny.

“Been tae long since we had somethin’ so nice an’ soft in our bed.” Johnny whines. As if that fact genuinely pains him.

Kyle hums in agreement, taking his time fucking into your mouth. “That it has.”

He reaches over to grab Johnny by the back of the neck, pulling him until their lips crash together. Johnny’s hands tighten where they hold you and Kyle’s pace picks up.

“Fuck, she likes tha’.” Johnny pulls back just enough to speak. “Clenchin’ down on me.”

All you can manage is a whine in response - body on fire. Every nerve feels like it’s pulsing, the whole of you utterly consumed by them. Johnny lifts your hips off the bed, arching your back so that he can fuck up into you. The new angle leaves you desperately moaning. Practically singing around Kyle’s cock as your climax hits you like a train. Rocking through you and tensing every muscle.

“Thassit, love, doin’ so good f’us.” Kyle cards his fingers through your hair. It’s strangely gentle, considering the way his cock now bullies the back of your throat while Johnny’s ruts against your g-spot. “How’s she feel, Johnny?”

The man in question just babbles incoherently, fingers digging into your wide hips enough that they’ll surely bruise. At least he’s aware enough not to crush you entirely. Kyle chuckles at him, the sound cutting off in a moan as you angle to take him deeper and wrap your hand around the length you can’t take.

“G-gonnae cum.” Johnny stutters, rhythm faltering and becoming more shallow as he approaches the edge. He pulls out with a choked groan, fucking his fist as he spills onto your thigh.

Kyle mercifully pulls away, letting you gasp for air. Your voice will be raw tomorrow, but fuck if it isn’t worth it when you’re getting fucked like that.

Johnny sighs, collapsing on his back. “Gi’ me a minute…”

“Gettin’ old, Johnny?” Kyle quips.

“Feck off.” He grunts, turning to look at you as you catch your breath. You can’t quite interpret the look in his eyes - whatever it may be - before Kyle is lifting you up at the waist.

“C’mere, love.” Kyle pulls you, sitting back on his haunches and turning your back to him. Your legs tremble uselessly, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves you into place. He doesn’t waste time sitting you on his cock. Kyle isn’t as rough as Johnny, taking his time with lifting off and dropping you onto his cock. A slow motion of your hips while his hands squeeze the soft layer over your waist.

“Fuck, Kyle…” You sigh, head lolling against his shoulder.

“Y’like that, baby?” He murmurs, kissing up your shoulder and neck. One hand moves from your waist to travel up the valley of your breasts. It doesn’t quite wrap around your throat, just rests at the base of it - index finger hooking into your necklace.

It’s a leisurely roll of your hips against each other. A break from the brutal pace before. He’s not desperate like Johnny - instead taking his time whispering sweet nothings and dirty words into your ear. Movements slow and easy.

You think, for a moment, that this is the closest you’ve ever been to “making love.”

Then again, maybe you’re just cock drunk.

You don’t notice Johnny getting up until he’s in front of you, hands on your thighs and lips crashing against yours. Already hard and leaking again after only a handful of minutes. Even for a vampire, that’s pretty damn impressive.

“Bonnie, please.” He moans into your mouth. Cool hands take yours and wrap them around his cock, setting a rhythm to match Kyle’s thrusts into you. ��Yer fuckin’ perfect.”

It’s overwhelming. Kyle’s hands roam over your body as you bounce on his cock, draping himself over your back and nipping at your ear. Johnny’s tongue continues to explore every part of your mouth as he thrusts desperately into your hands. His fingers slip down to your clit, moving in leisurely circles that have you bucking forward into him.

“Gonna cum f’me, pretty girl?” Kyle groans into your ear. “Chokin’ my fuckin’, cock.”

You whine against Johnny’s lips, eyes screwed shut. He’s close again, pace quickening. His fingers roughly grind against your over sensitive clit. Someone is chanting, begging, and it takes longer than it should to realize it’s you. “Please, please, just - fuck - I can’t - fucking Christ-“

“Thassit, thassit, fuckin’ hell look at y’two.” Kyle pants, bottoming out with every thrust.

You cum with a choked cry, falling forward against Johnny as he coats your hands and moans. Kyle isn’t far behind, painting your back with a pretty, low groan and a jumble of praises for you and Johnny alike.

Your body feels like jelly, limbs trembling and weight leaned entirely against Johnny. He coos at you and soothes down your hair. A strong arm wraps around your shoulders to steady you. Kyle comes back with a warm rag - when he left, you’re not sure - gently wiping you down with a an unfamiliar level of care.

“I can do it.” You reach for the cloth.

“No, no, love.” He says gently, taking your hands and carefully cleaning them off with precision. He stops to rub the back of your hand with his thumb, something unreadable and warm behind his eyes.

“Drink this.” Johnny holds out a glass to you. When did he even get that?

“Tap water?” You frown slightly, looking him up and down.

“What’s wrong with tap?” He snorts. Oh. Right. Upper city.

“Thanks.” You murmur, chugging it greedily. The physical exhaustion begins to creep up your bones, your legs already practically useless. Keeping up with vampires is a young man’s game and you’re just starting to see the signs of aging out. “I better g-“

“Better lay down.” Kyle cuts you off, taking the glass and pushing your shoulders to lay flat on the bed.

You chew your lip. You don’t usually stay at client’s homes overnight. Then again… the sheets seem to envelope you in a cool cocoon. Calming on your too-hot skin and tired muscles. Muscles that do not want to walk all the way to the train depot. Besides, Johnny and Kyle have been so nice. If they want you to spend then night then what’s the harm, right? You’ll just sneak out in the morning.

So, you let them crawl into the bed bracketing you on either side. Johnny’s arm slings over your waist, cool breath puffing against the back of your neck. Kyle lays in front of you, placing small kisses across your face before pulling the comforter over the three of you.

There are worse fates than sleeping with two handsome men on high thread count sheets for a night…

You wake shivering violently. Between the cold air and Johnny and Kyle’s cool skin you feel like an icicle. Your throat burns and you croak out a groan as you try to sit up. Kyle was rougher than you’d realized in the moment. Johnny has your back pinned against his chest with a strong arm thrown around your waist, not even breathing. It’s so easy to forget that they don’t have to. Kyle truly looks like a statue like this. Entirely still, solid as marble and just as perfect.

You sigh, quietly and carefully wiggling your way off the bed. You don’t pay attention to whose clothes you grab - some tshirt that’s more fitted than you’d like but covers enough to get the job done. You hiss at the slight creak of the door. Neither Johnny nor Kyle stir. If they woke up, they don’t react to you padding out to the main house.

That first door across the hall is slightly ajar, a low stream of cool toned light pooling in the floor just below it. Against your better judgement, you stop, looking around before peeking inside. Not that you can make out much other than a large bed with a dark canopy pulled closed around it. The rest of the room looks barren - the only source of light coming from what you assume to be an attached bathroom.

“Lookin’ f’somethin’?” A baritone voice grunts behind you. You squeak quietly, whirling on your heel and coming face to face with Simon. Well, face to chest considering his sheer height.

“Sorry!” You croak, voice still hoarse. “I didn’t mean- I-“

“S’fine.” The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. You hope it’s amusement, at least. “Need somethin’?”

“J-just getting some water.. sorry to bother you-“ You begin backing away, giving him a wide birth as you step toward the kitchen. Even without inhuman strength you fully believe this man could snap you in two.

“Come on, then.” He nods toward the kitchen, stepping in front of you. You nearly protest, but opt to just follow. He already caught you snooping at best - at worst he thinks you were planning to steal. If letting him accompany you keeps you alive and out of trouble with them then you’ll gladly trail behind this behemoth of a man.

You pause by the kitchen island as Simon goes to grab… a mug? You watch him fill an electric kettle and flick it on, digging through the cabinet to produce a small packet. A tea bag labeled Honey Vanilla Chamomile.

“Y-you don’t have to-“

“How’d our boys treat you?” Simon asks as he opens the little packet with deft fingers - oddly precise for the size of them.

“Good.” You blurt, hands wringing as you shift your weight side to side.

“Johnny behave himself?”

“The picture of civility.” You snort. If leaving bruises on your hips from fucking you six ways to Sunday counts as civil.

Simon chuckles but doesn’t say anything else. Just puts together a little mug of tea for you, stirring and steeping perfectly before pushing the thing across the counter. You take it slowly, eyeing him. Waiting for some sort of tell that you shouldn’t drink this. Then another shiver runs down your spine and you grab the warm cup happily.

“Should get a heating system put in…” Simon grumbles under his breath, looking around the apartment. You wonder just how much more he can see than you in the near pitch black environment.

“Why?” You snort. “You don’t need it.”

“You do.”

You blink at him rather stupidly - brain too tired and muddled to make sense of whatever that might mean. Probably just means humans in general. They probably have plenty of women and men over on a regular basis. Even if it is just for the night. Oddly considerate, either way.

“What’s the deal with the mask?” You blurt again, the slight lapse of silence putting you on edge.

Simon just shakes his head. “To ‘ide my face.”

“Booooring!” You boo, throwing out a dramatic thumbs down. To your surprise, you’re not met with annoyance. Just a deep chuckle and another shake of his head. “Thanks for the tea.”

Simon nods and snags the now empty mug from you. You chugged it far faster than you realized. It worked, too. Your voice isn’t as hoarse and your throat doesn’t sting when you swallow.

“I should probably…” You murmur, looking back toward the room where Johnny and Kyle are assumably still sleeping away.

Simon grunts in agreement, following you back to his own door. You don’t know what possesses you to stop beside him. To turn and meet his gaze with far less confidence than you’re used to wielding. You owe him for the tea, though.

“Do you want…uh…” You murmur, glancing into the room behind him.

Simon looks from you to the bed behind him - only to turn back with those smile lines forming in the corners of his eyes once again. “Not tonight, pretty girl. You’ve ‘ad enough.”

You jump involuntarily when his large hand cups your cheek - thumb caressing ever to gently over your cheekbone. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the fact that non-sexual touches are so rare in your life, but either way you find yourself tilting into it. Just a little.

“Sleep well, sweet’eart.” With that he steps into his room, shutting the door with near deathly silence behind him.

Oh.

Okay.

You stare at his closed door for a few seconds too long, a slight furrow in your brow before turning back to Johnny’s room. The two of them haven’t moved much since you left, though Johnny has somehow ended up spread eagle across most of the bed. With some gentle maneuvering you manage to curl up in the crook of his outstretched arm with your head on his chest and back pressed against Kyle’s.

These men are going to be the death of you.

A/N: I wanted to put more into this chapter but I had to draw the line somewhere so it’s going to just have to get pushed to the next one.

Part of me was worried they’re fucking too early but then I remembered I can do what I want🫡

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