#vampire fic but I change it up however I like

[boolger]

Dying laughter

Macgyver 2016 ✨ Jack Dalton x Angus Macgyver ✨ mature, 18+ ✨ wc: 1.2k ish

Tags: vampires au, main character death (kinda? Technically not, but sssh), vampire hunter, blood, lying, angst no happy ending. Open ended. Lmk if more needs to be tagged. Listen I’m just freestyling what vampires are, let me have this silly lil one shot.

MDNI. Not here, not with my blog. I’ll block you. MDNI.

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When Murdoc had said the words out loud, he had apparently been able to read the confusion on Jack’s face; his grin growing even wider than before, one of his usual manic laughs overtaking him. He had been laughing delightfully at others’ misery as usual.

“Oh - oh, you don’t know?” He had asked, “oh Angus, you haven’t told him? You didn’t tell him?”

It had been a mixture of taunting and delight, laughter following as Murdoc seemingly lived out one of his dreams - much to Jack's confusion. Even worse, Mac had looked pale, afraid… ashamed.

Jack hadn’t been able to speak then, unable to let questions and demands of answers drip from his tongue. Confusion, betrayal, distrust overwhelmed his veins as Murdoc enjoyed his moment, the young man with the dirty blonde hair quiet.

Now, as Jack stood over him, the gun in his hand, everything he could remember was told by his father; it was a matter of duty, to everyone else - to the human race.

Jack had taken so many lives in the years he had lived. Grown up with his father’s honor to continue and defend; made a name for himself, as a soldier, a hunter, an agent. He had blood that would stain his hands, no, stain his life, until he stepped into the afterlife.

If he hadn’t done as expected, as instructed, as he should - what would have happened then?

No, though blood stained him, human, vampire, demon blood alike, it was still his duty.

His father wouldn’t even have hesitated. He would have shot the man beneath him with the silver bullets in his gun. It was currently aimed, safety off; it was merely a question of pulling the trigger, helping the human race.

It was what he had been taught to do, ever since being a child. The moment he could hold a gun, his father had made sure he knew how to shoot it. How to hit, how to kill those that weren’t human beings, merely imitating. In order to stop them from taking over.

“Jack,” Mac whispered, voice shaking, “please don’t.”

Jack had to do it. He had to, not only for everyone else but for himself. To reclaim his honor, to prove he wasn’t blind.

Murdoc’s laughter was wet, coughs in between them now and again. He was on the floor, a couple of steps from them, blood seeping from the gunshots that Jack had blessed his body with.

“Tell me it’s not true, Mac,” Jack’s voice was shaking slightly, “tell me it’s not true.”

Mac was beneath him, still in the chair that Murdoc had chained him to, which was now tipped back over, looking up at Jack with those big blue eyes. Just as beautiful as the day Jack met him.

“Jack,” he answered, voice still nothing but a whisper, “please don’t do this.”

“Tell me you’re not one of them!” His voice was bordering on yelling now, his tone demanding. Desperate to be sure that no, it was all a lie; that Murdoc had lied, that the one who Jack had been in love with for the last 6 years of his life, wasn’t a vampire.

As if the teeth which Murdoc had forced him to unsheath shouldn’t have been proof. They were filed down, no more dangerous than Jack’s own, but Mac shouldn’t have retractable teeth. Sharp or not.

It was like his mind was a wild ocean, during a storm; ruining every memory on its way, breaking every ounce of trust that Jack had laid in his friend. Falling in love with Angus Macgyver had been such a simple feat. It had been like a seed, planted inside him, growing with the years, slowly, oh so slowly getting ready to bloom. All those times Mac had stepped back, that he had shied away and declined him - had it been because of this? Was the love not a flower, but a mere weed?

Was he not human?

Murdoc laughed again, bleeding out, yet having the time of his life. Mac’s nostrils barely moved, as if to attempt to block out the scent.

“A carrier!” Murdoc screamed in absolute delight, “you’ve fallen in love with a carrier!”

A carrier.

Nothing was like Jack had been told it was his entire life. Vampires weren’t supposed to be like this, weren't supposed to be like Mac - they… weren’t supposed to be human. Yet here Mac was, beneath him, just like he had been the last many years. Human-like.

Perfect.

“Mac,” his own voice was shaking more than before and he hated how he felt tears form in his eyes, “tell me it’s not true. Tell me.”

Mac was silent beneath him. Staring up at him with a sad, pleading expression- unable to lie.

Jack had to kill him. His father would be ashamed if he didn’t, it was his duty as a hunter. Killing a carrier, would mean that a vampire - a monster - that Mac - that… he wouldn’t be able to carry a full blood vampire child. Making sure the vampire kind would survive, even if they had no humans around to drink from.

He had to.

“TELL ME!”

Murdoc laughter was weaker now. More wet.

There were tears collecting in those pretty eyelashes of his. He looked up at Jack, so vulnerable, no anger from being found out. Merely sadness - but from what? From being found out? From knowing he had to die now? From being forced to tell the truth? Did Mac even fear death? Did he fear the truth more than the afterlife?

He wanted Mac to tell him it wasn’t real - that it was another lie of Murdoc, that it was a ploy. To make them unsure, to separate and kill them. But Murdoc was bleeding out, laughing as he went.

“It’s true.” Mac’s bottom lip shook after the whisper and tears rolled down into his hair that was splayed around his head on the floor, like a blonde halo. As if he was an angel, an immortal being created by god. Not this.

Jack’s hand was shaking.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” he continued, “I wanted to tell you.”

Another, small, dying laughter from Murdoc.

“Why didn’t you?” He found himself asking something he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He wanted to scream at Mac that it wasn’t fair, that he had loved him for so many years - that he wasn’t supposed to be here, beneath him, admitting to be a vampire. Then Jack could have shot him earlier, before he became enthralled with him. With his personality, his mind, his hands, his eyes - with how he would know everything yet be so clueless about others.

Why hadn’t Mac told him, so that Jack wouldn’t be here, the declaration of love dying in his mind, watching the man beneath him?

“Every time I wanted to,” Mac was still shaking a little, “I felt greedy, egotistical- I … I wanted you to love me, just a little more.”

He wasn’t human, Jack tried to remind himself, he was never human. He steadied his hand with the gun a little. He wasn’t human, merely taking the shell of one. Vile creatures, he was always told, unable to love or care about anyone.

“I just wanted another minute with you,” Mac continued, “just to love you another minute - wanted to hear your laughter one more time.”

Not shooting Mac would make him weak, it would be against everything he had grown up with. It would be against the laws of the hunters, against what the government wanted - it would be against everything that he did for human beings.

He was not human. Even if being together with Mac had been the only thing getting Jack through life for years. Even if Mac sometimes felt more human than Jack himself did.

“You’re not human.” He wasn’t sure if he said it to Mac or to himself.

Did it even matter?

His grip on the gun tightened.

[coeurify]

repost the period vampire ellie fic!

middle of the night,, vamp!ellie

a/n: this is a repost from early this year so excuse any change in writing style!

warnings: vampire!ellie. period sex. oral!r receiving fingering!r receiving. sort of a dreamy, less modern vibe. if u aren’t into it.. just don’t read it.

˚✦　.　　. 　  ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

Some times--Most times, you only saw her at night. When darkness enveloped the small town you called home, when the stars rocked the sleepy eyed humans to sleep and the moon hummed the lullaby that quieted the crickets outside, she came.

Only then did you ever hear the distinct creaking of the splitting wood on your window panes being pressed up. Only then did the white of your sheer curtains move with more than the wind, the grip of the air nothing compared to the long hand that often wrapped around the fabric and pushed it open. When the moon was the only light filtering into your room, you saw the green of her eyes.

Tonight was no different, despite one little issue. Often, the woman who visited you under the cover of midnight would arrive to your eyes closed in sleep. She would press a hand to your warm cheek before waking you, greeted by your sleepy excitement each time.

This time, you had not been able to sleep. A heat had taken over your body, tight in your stomach with a pain you would compare to that of claws gnawing at your insides. Sweat beaded between your brows with every swift turn under your uncomfortable sheets, lip tugged between your frustrated teeth to stop any whines of discomfort. That had been what your favorite visitor heard as her shaking palms found the wood of your window. Your pained grunts floated through her buzzing ears as she quietly made her way into your room, auburn hair messy behind her ears as her figure became visible, head tilted as she looked across the room to your heated body.

“El,” you whined, wiping your forehead with a hand, not at all concerned about her chosen point of entry. “Go away.”

Ellie’s gaze softened, a scoff sounding from behind your squeezed shut eyes. “Go away?” she mused, her voice much closer now.

The split second your eyes had been closed, Ellie had somehow silently made it to your bedside. You don't question it, you never do.

When a girl like Ellie sports small fangs and a taste for blood, her speed is the last thing you think to question.

“I don't feel well, don’t want you here.” you add, mouth pulled into pout as you look up at the freckled face of Ellie.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong, bunny? Instead of shooing me away,” Ellie requests, sitting on the edge of your bed. Her cold hand finds your sweaty arm, sighing. “You’re burning up.”

Your neck tickles with heat as Ellie questions your current state, and you fall wordless. Somehow, it was more embarrassing to admit to your vampire visitor that you were starting your period than to simply tell her to leave. Obviously however, Ellie was not taking the second option as a valid answer.

“I started my period, nothing is helpin’ the cramps,” you explain softly, pressing your hand into the sheets of your bed to try and sit, to maybe find some sort of relief to the growing tension in your stomach. But the other set of hands is faster.

“Lay down,” Ellie insists, glancing down at you. You can almost see the cogs of her brain turning behind the evergreen in her eyes, a sort of fogginess settling over the color.

“Let me help you,” she eventually says.

“What? I told you nothi-”

Ellie presses her lips together to hush you, one wandering hand finding the dip of your hip, blunt nail tracing the goosebump coated flesh there. Sometimes she liked being so cold, simply because she enjoyed seeing how you reacted to it. If she was damned for what she was, she may as well use some of it to her advantage.

“What are you doing?” You couldn't help the shiver that followed her movements.

Suddenly your mouth feels dry, tongue unable to wet the plump fat of your lip. The scratching in your throat finds no comfort when you swallow, only further irritating your vocal chords. A choked noise finds the heavy bedroom air as fingers tug at your cotton shorts.

“Helping you,” Ellie repeats, her own mouth much more wet than yours. Even in the dim light of the moon you can see the glistening dew on her parted lips. Usually the look she currently wears is saved only for when her pearly teeth find the sensitive and already scarred skin of your neck. Not for.. this.

Your hands immediately slap to your heated cheeks. “Oh my god Ellie, no fucking way.”

The vampire, who had now moved below you on the bed, hums in disagreement to your little show of kicking feet, a hand too strong to be that of a human halting all movements.

“We always have fun when I come over,” The freckles of her face disappear as she glances down, fully pulling down your shorts.

“Not when I’m on my period,” you hiss quietly, the words feeling cracked and embarrassed as they leave your mouth. You could deny the growing arousal in your belly simply by how *mortified* you felt. Even with the churning feeling of deeply settled embarrassment, you make no further moves to stop Ellie. Not as the shorts fall to the floor with a dull thump.

“It’ll help,” Ellie soothes, the near frigid temperature of her hand calming the heat that rises on the skin of your legs. “Haven’t you heard things like this help with cramps?”

The words that are spoken almost teasingly fall upon deaf ears as her wet lips press right above your knee. “Please,” the auburn haired girl whispers, sounding a lot more breathy than before. “Please, let me taste you. Let me make you feel better. ”

Ellie had a tendency to become a little less cold, figuratively at least, when she found her body nestled between your own. The unwavering voice you had grown oh so accustomed to always slid into a more mushy sounding version whenever it got intimate. Today, it seemed even worse. The words dripped with the sweet sounds of neediness, a sound that tasted sweet on your tongue, which swiped nervously over your dry lips.

“El..” Another kiss pressed further up the flesh of your warm thigh broke any following denial. “Fuck..” your chin wobbles, almost too embarrassed to actually say your following words, “Yea. Please help.”

You were sure if you believed something was watching down on you from the sky, it was with horror. Some people may call what Ellie was doing sinful. The angels in the clouds would shrilly gasp as fingers wrapped around your panties and tugged them and everything else from your bottom half, tossing them into the growing pile of clothes. Her shirt came next, the simple white cloth acted as something to watch as it pulled off of her chest, likely to avoid any mess. Some may call the sight of her dipping down again, green eyes looking up at your quivering lip, sinful. Maybe it was, surely the mewl you made when her lips found the heated flesh of your inner thigh was. But if you had to describe it, that wasn't the word you would use. You may even swear it was heavenly.

“Relax,” Ellie drawled, spreading your thighs further apart, despite the slight tremble to them. “I’ve got you, don't worry,” her voice soothed you enough to tilt your head back against the pillow, squeezing your eyes closed. The embarrassment simmered low in your belly, even more so when you could feel the arousal that dripped from you, which your vampire visitor had no problem pointing out. “So wet for me,” she groaned, lips still refusing to find home anywhere other than your thighs. Teeth sharper than your own nipped at the skin there, bucking your hips up. “You want this, don’t you?”

It was an obvious request for another confirmation of what was to come, but your chest felt too tight to reply, no air finding your lungs the moment her breath hovered over your pulsing core. “Tell me you want it,” she requests again, voice dipping into a softer territory again, searching for your approval. Her resolve was cracking however, jaw clicking as she tried her best not to dive straight into where she craved to be.

“I do,” you whine, eyes still closed as you answered, words met with the quick and overwhelming feeling of her tongue pressing flat against your wet center. You couldn’t think too hard about the fact she was doing this right now, not when the sharp gasp had come from two mouths instead of one, a quick call of, “Fuck,” from only you this time followed. Ellie had no words, not as her tongue made another long stripe up your pussy, going much slower than you liked. It led one small roll of your hips down into her, a sign for what you searched for.

It resulted in a hand gripping your hip, pressing you further down into the mattress, ceasing any attempt to control the movements. Her mouth pressed further into you, licking at the same excruciatingly slow pace, seemingly taking her time to enjoy the taste she found between your thighs. “El,” you gasp, eyes fluttering open to glance down at her. However her eyes were closed, another press further into you came, her nose bumping your clit as she licked into you. The rush it brings is almost enough to completely paint over the lingering cramping in your stomach.

The dizzying mixture of pain and pleasure seeps into your bones, making you feel too heavy to do much else than move a hand to find Eliie’s hair, fingers tangling between the auburn strands. You tried again to guide her movements, but she was much stronger than you, paying little mind to the shaky hand that tugged at her locks.

“Taste so fuckin..” she sucked in a breath, unable to keep from dipping back into your folds, humming. “So fuckin’ good,” she finishes, words reverberating against your throbbing core. It had you trying to squirm, held down by the stone light weight of Ellie’s grip. The deeper she licked, the more you fought against her. Your body ached the do something.. anything to find comfort in the overwhelming feeling of her still slow pace. The fingers in her hair tugged again, finding a low groan in response.

The air of the room had already been heavy on your feverish skin, but now it was nearing a state of unbearably humid. Every time Ellie’s tongue made a particularly aimed movement you felt another round of fire straight in the mess that was your clenching core. It all felt so heightened, so much better. The sticky feeling on your skin did not slow either of you down, and you had little care for the sweat beading on your flesh. Not when your favorite girl’s lips were doing such mind numbing things to you.

Had you told your past self, even that of just an hour ago, that you would have allowed it to happen.. They would have laughed in your heated face. The past version of you would have sworn up and down, prayed up to the mysterious sky, that this would never happen. But now- now you have no room for denial or regret. Your mind was becoming too cloudy to house thoughts of shame, questions of if this was right. Because it felt right. The slick sound of Ellie’s mouth against you sounded right, as did your little huffs and puffs that you couldn't hide. The cramps had subsided in tandem with the tightening band in you. But you needed more, and you were gone past a point of being embarrassed to ask for it.

“I need..” you try to speak, but Ellie’s lips wrapping around your clit is the cause of the death of the forming words. A jolt of your hips is one finally strong enough to rupture the heavy hold of the vampire’s hand. Your lame attempt at a command did not go unheard by Ellie, who for the first time since this began, pulled herself away from your cunt. Her eyes darted up, looking to meet your own. But you were far too focused on something else. Her lips were glassy with your wetness, which she licked without a second thought. But the usual clear sheen that you had been no stranger to seeing on her face was more of a rosy color, a stark reminder of the reason this had begun in the first place. The slight tint of red smeared onto her chin, across the corners of her mouth, and it was oh so addicting to see. You felt no lingering shame, no shiver of disgust. Instead it made you feel even more desperate to have her against you again, but first you had to listen to her speaking. “Need what, babe?”

The urge to simply shove her face right back into your cunt flipped through the pages of scenarios in your head, but the moonlight that painted the side of your lover’s face, illuminating the red paintbrush stroke of you, had you a little too separate to risk such a bratty action.

“I need more, El. Need to cum,” you manage to whine, one light push of her head to prove your point. Ellie dipped her head down again, pressing small kisses to your sticky inner thighs. “Just love taking my time with you,” she muttered, a few more pecks planted on you were a search for forgiveness, one you graciously accepted with a loud moan when the lips finally found your clit again.

Ellie seemed to take your beg to heart, the hand that held your hip slowly dipping between your thighs. Her searching fingers met just below her chin, one long digit sliding over your slit, teasing the weeping hole with a slight press. The air feels like it has been punched from your lungs when the finger sinks into you, just as evil as her mouth as it curls into you the exact moment her lips suck a little harder. You were sure she was looking to torture you with how slowly the finger pumped in and out, working and exploring around your walls that gripped around her so tightly.

You had always heard the mythical vampire was sadistic. Ellie had never been much of that, but with ever slow movement into your aching cunt, you began to believe the whispers. Your head turned lightly to stare at the open window, the stars that dipped in the night sky were surely spotlighting your body splayed out on the bed, the auburn haired vampire between your thighs was quite the show for all the celestial beings up in the night air, every single being held its breath and watched on, you were sure of it. You didn't blame the stars, or the moon, or whatever else may have their attention focused on this tantalizing sight. If you could, you would float right out of your body to watch on yourself.

Surely you looked a mess, chest heaving with the heat of the air, with the heat of Ellie. Your limbs shook just lightly, your fingers knotted your companions hair, the messy pile of clothes on the floor, the red that painted her cheeks. Surely it would make your cheek turn bashfully if you could see it. Maybe this was sinful. The little dip into your rushing thoughts is ended with the raspy tone of Ellie’s voice.

“Relax, bunny. Gotta relax for me,” Ellie cooed against you, a few more languid presses into your cunt causing you to finally loosen around her, coupled by the continuing ministrations from her mouth on your clit. Soone another finger joins the mix, the large fingers stretching you just right. She reaches spots that have you remembering the stars you had just seen behind the black of your squeezed shut eyes, a pathetic cry falling from your lips. This reaction only encourages her to continue, the pace of her suckles and thrusts into you speed up. It's harsher everytime she plunges into you, your hips moving lightly with the pure force.

“That’s my girl, there you go,” she compliments after a long moan, the words causing another clench around her fingers. You let out another string of incoherent whines and moans, grinding down into her messy face and fingers. Somewhere in the back of your mind you cursed yourself and Ellie for the certainly ruined bedspread under your ass, but it seems like the much smaller issue when you had *this* to focus on. You were nearing your peak, and it was no secret. Your grinds against Ellie became sloppy, ununiformed and more needy than before. No words could form on your tongue, only whimpers and unintelligible begs.

The vampire never lets up, curling her fingers, your walls clenching. her teeth grazed against your clit lightly enough to have you trembling, whining softly. She knows your body as well as you do, every small sign you were reaching the final moments before your world would explode. She knew what moves of her fingers would have your legs shaking, knew where to press, how hard to go. She was no stranger to making you cum, and she definitely was on the mission to make it happen now. Her free hand grips your thigh, pushing you even more impossibly open for her, fingers pressing into you harshly enough to draw another cry. She readjusts slightly, sinking even deeper into your folds. “C’mon,” Ellie whispers, the word slightly broken, shaky and pleading. Pleading as if she needed you to come as much as you did.

Maybe she did, because the moment your back arched, a near pornographic moan filling the heavy air, spilling out of the window and swirling against the peeping eyes of the stars and moon, she moaned with you. Her fingers still within you as you gushed around her, her lips still pressed to your clit. But as your thighs shook, she slid the fingers out and replaced them with her tongue again. The pink muscle flattened against your slit again like it had earlier, this time with no attempt at going slow.

If anything, she was ravenous. Every drop your pulsing center gifted her, she sucked down like she needed it, ignoring your desperate whines of overstimulation. You attempted lamely to press her head away with the hand still tangled in her scalp, but it was no use. The pleasure of her tongue was much too overwhelming to fight.

After a moment that felt like hours, she pulled away. Her tongue licked over her lips again, collecting the rosy colored cum from where it smudged there. Her eyes stayed on your own blinking irises as her fingers raised to her already messy lips. They were coated with the same mixture of red and clear shining wetness, and she sunk them into her mouth with a moan. The debautchary that took place in front of your eyes should have your stomach queasy, should have your legs closing and pressing far away from Ellie.

But of course it doesn't, instead you watch on with morbid curiosity, watching her tongue curl around her fingers, sucking the last bits of you, leaving a glistening layer of her own spit behind. She found no shame in this situation, no shame in drinking down evey single thing you would give her, so why should you?

“Fuck,” you breathe, eyes transfixed on the fingers as they fall from her lips and down to her lap, her eyes back on your own. She makes a move to crawl over you, arms locking you in from either side.

“Just got a taste of you bunny,” she mumbles, nudging her head into the crook of your neck.

Her lips pressed there, and this time you could feel her fangs under the plump fat of her lip. “Gonna let me have more?” she questioned.

Of course you would, of course you did. As you tilted your neck for her, the curtain to the side of you blew in the wind, and you closed your eyes.

“Yes.”

[swtsupernatural]

S.W || ANGEL BY MY SIDE

Sam Winchester x Fem!Angel!Reader

Content Warning blood, mentions of death, sam fighting for bodily autonomy, religious themes & talk of heaven, reader being shorter than Sam

Summary Angst, hurt-/comfort for Sam, slow burn i think - Sam was supposed to die tonight. At least, that's what his guardian angel told him after she saved him from death.

W.C. 2.4k words

Playlist: ♫ Kiss of Life - Sade, Telephone - daste., Salvatore - Lana Del Rey

A.N. first sam fic ! this came to me sunday night, been thinking alot about spn angels lately. enjoy! - claire

It had been a long fucking day for Sam Winchester. Not only was the demon he found in Manhattan trying to summon more, but they were working with a large pack of them and an even larger pack of vampires that lurked in Vermont’s lush forests. The two creatures had teamed up, and as a result Sam was surrounded in a poorly lit dirt road in the forest, moonlight shining on his knife. He couldn’t see or hear Dean, and he knew Castiel was busy with extremely pressing ‘angel matters’ as he put it. He had vamps and demons circling him, and Dean had the stupid demon knife. Or, he did when Sam had seen him a few minutes ago. Now, he had no clue who had their hands on it. His brain was twisting as he desperately tried to wring out ideas of escape from his head like a sponge. He was trapped. Fuck. A demon sprung, holding a large, saw-edged knife slicing his forearm making him tense. A measly cut never stopped him, and he twisted the demon’s neck, shoving the body to the side as another few came behind him. Twisting and trying desperately to gank two at once, Sam missed the others on his right, one stabbing Sam deep in his lower abdomen.

Significantly outnumbered, Sam tried to keep his thoughts collected. But it was difficult with five vamps and six demons on his ass, and the blood slowly staining his shirt, the agonizing pain making him want to double over. The demons suddenly pounced on him simultaneously. He managed to injure one of them, but the rest kept their grip on his arms, legs, neck, and torso tight. One of the taller vamps sauntered over to him, her lips curling into a smile. 

“You’re gonna taste so sweet, boy. I can already tell…” She pulled his hair back roughly, her painted fingers tight on his long hair. She exposed his neck, and Sam had never thrashed more than he had in that moment. It seemed like all he had done in his adult life was fight for his bodily autonomy. He felt numb — of course this would be how he died. The second he felt her lips on his skin, he felt and heard something he never had.

A loud whoosh, the hands and arms restricting him gone, and a swift change in the chipping air all in less than a second. He was in the motel. His motel he and Dean were staying at in some small town in Vermont.

But…there was still a single hand on his shoulder. However, it was gentle. Too gentle. He turned his head, his eyes meeting yours; a woman. You couldn’t have been much older than him. But you weren't really a woman. He drew his gun from his belt, effectively pushing from you, making space between you two. 

“Who the hell are you?” He was assuming you were an angel. He didn’t know of many other creatures or beings that could move him so effectively and so fast. He was also thinking how everything in this world came with a price. You weren't saving his life to do him a favor or to be nice. That wasn’t how this ever worked. Except; there you stood, your hands tentatively coming up in a gesture of surrender. 

“Sam. I’m very glad you are okay.” You stated your name, a small smile on your lips. Still, he held his gun up directly at your face.

“So much for a thanks, I guess. I’m your guardian angel, Sam. There’s no need for hostility.” Sam nearly faulted, just a bit, but you took a single step towards him and he was back in his rock-solid stance.

“I’m sure. What do you want?” 

“Well, I’d like to heal that cut in your stomach. It’s quite deep.”

He scoffed, “Why? So I can owe you? So I can be in your debt?”

You were silent for a moment, your eyes widening a bit. “Castiel never told you? Sam, certain angels…we are assigned to humans to watch over them. We are permitted to help you, prevent you from death if it is not your time, and only if we are not spotted. We cannot be seen, or…well, in simple terms, we’ll be kicked out of Heaven.” 

“You…you’re my guardian angel? Seriously?” He mulled over you, his eyes squinting in suspicion. “How come we’re talking, then, if I’m never supposed to see you?”

Rolling your eyes suddenly that same whoosh came, only a lot quieter. You had his gun in your hand putting the safety on before throwing it somewhere in the motel where neither of you could reach it.

“You were going to die. You were supposed to die. That was your time, Sam. I defected to save you. I’d like a ‘thank you’ at the very least.”

Sam breathed quickly through his nose deciding what to do. Your eyes were so genuine. He’d only ever seen that look from one other angel, Cas.

“I…thank you.” You nodded, and he saw realization in your eyes. It was raw and undoubtedly heavy on your being. You nodded. 

“I’m going to put my fingers on your temple and you will feel much better, understand?” You looked at him; from his shaggy hair to his dirty boots, and back up again. “It will be easier if you sit down. You’re much taller than I thought.”

Sam let out a small huff of laughter, sitting on the bed.

“Well, you don’t seem very tall for a guardian angel.” You squint your eyes at him, a look of power in your eyes, almost startling Sam. He knew what angels were capable of. You could have killed him and everyone in the motel in seconds. Yet, from someone else’s perspective, you were a hell of a lot shorter than him, and just looked like a regular young woman. 

“My true form is larger than the size of this building, Sam. I know that you know what I am capable of. Even if I may not look like it.”

Sam nodded in an apologetic way, your cold fingers on his temple immediately putting him at ease. Cas had healed him a couple times before but it had felt nowhere as heavily as this. He could feel his wounds closing before he could register what was happening — even the widespread blood stain on his shirt dissipating. He let out a long sigh he didn’t know he was holding, his shoulder slumping forward. He truly felt better than he had in years.

“Thank you. And I’m very aware of what angels can do…though I’ve never met a guardian one.”

You nodded, your face quite close to his. He smiled gently. Cas was never great with personal space either. Yet, Sam always found it funny when the angel would appear a mere foot from his older brother. Now, the last thing on his mind was humor. He would never admit that your presence was intoxicatingly calming. 

“We possess stronger healing powers and sturdier wings than typical angels. Not that it matters much now.” The sorrow in your eyes made guilt settle uncomfortably in Sam’s stomach.

“Why did you save me? I’m not exactly the poster boy for virtue or dignity.”

“I’m aware. But you must understand I’ve been watching you your whole life, Sam. I perfectly believe you deserve another chance on Earth.” Sam gazed into your eyes, trying to find what he could not understand. His father, Dean, Bobby…they had all known and loved him for so long. But they’d never expressed it like you were right now — and he'd never even met you. He had met defected angels before, fallen ones too. They would lose their wings. They would lose their grace. They were as old as the beginning of time, and would sacrifice it all for a single human. 

“But why? You flew me here, but I’m guessing your wings aren't doing too good right now, Angel.”

You stared deeply at his features. You’d seen Sam, watch him grow up before your eyes from the day he was born. But your visions of him were never as clear as they were now. His eyes were a solemn swirl of blues and greens, the inner ring a twirling hazel. The lines on his face told you of his laughter, his light forehead lines telling you of his worries, the short hairs littering his jaw telling you he’d been up for nights focusing on just this hunt. 

“Because I thought…” you looked at a stained part of the unappealing carpet on the floor, your eyes glazing over a bit, “I thought that some of the angels were abusing their power over humans, over hunters. I had been on earth a few times and stupidly got your disease of emotions.” Sam chuckled softly despite the situation, hoping you would feel a tad better. But he knew you didn’t. How could you?”

“I felt sympathy for humans. There were unjust things happening everyday, people's lives ending at their wrong time. I thought you were worth saving because–well, maybe it's time angel’s be kind instead of unforgiving.” Sam listened to every word spilling from your lips. You had been very short and to the point with him earlier. You really had begun feeling human emotion, if even a little. 

“And I thought that maybe you’d help me. Help me adjust, at least. I have seen the ways you and your brother act. I know it is selfish of me, but you are close with my closest friend and brother, Castiel.” You took a pause, eyes averting from Sam’s sincere face.

“I thought you might help me. I have seen you do it for humans and creatures and being alike, Sam. I thought maybe if I was kind to you, you could be kind to me, too.”

Sam stared at you in awe, his jaw slightly open. He honestly wasn’t sure what to say. Of course he would like to help you, but how? You were an angel for God’s sake. Maybe Cas was capable of giving you what you really needed to adjust, to be an angel without your wings, but he’d try. He’d fight like hell to try for you. You saved his life. It dawned on him that he was meant to be dead. He’d likely be in hell at this very moment if you hadn’t intervened. You truly were an angel sent from Heaven for him. 

“Of course I’ll help you, Y/N. You saved my life. I’m not done fighting yet and I’ll try everything I can, as a human at least, to support you.” You smiled. Your eyes were watering and you confusingly blinked at a wet drop falling from your right eye. “What is…” Sam reached a large hand to your cheek, rubbing the tear away. 

“Tears. You’re tearing up. Nearly crying, it happens when you…experience intense emotions, sometimes. Usually they are sad ones, but I’m guessing yours aren't.”

“No. I think I am happy. Maybe…anticipatory?” Your stomach was in knots, but you didn’t think you were sick. Castiel had explained it as…excitement. Sam smiled at your words. 

“Why is everything I say to you funny, Sam?”

Sam shook his head, still smiling as he brought a hand to your shoulder, “Not everything, you’re just…amusing.” You nodded after a moment as if agreeing with him. You knew you weren't accustomed to human culture or customs, you felt out of place every time you were on Earth. Nevertheless; now it was your home. 

“I find you very amusing. And you can be funny, but only when you are not being stubborn.”

“You really have seen me my whole life.”

“But I like that about you. You have such complex emotions.”

“Yea, I do…” Sam trailed off, the twisting in his stomach intensifying as he looked at your lips briefly. “Can I…” he leaned in closer, but not too close. He didn’t want to crowd your space, but you just looked so heavenly sitting next to him on his bed, your lovely hair framing your soft, glowing face. You tilted your head the way Cas did when he was confused about something human-like.

“Can you what, Sam?”

Fuck, your voice was so pretty. “Nevermind,” he leaned back slightly, getting up to call Dean to find out what happened to him before you grabbed his arm pulling him into a tight hug. 

“Thank you, Sam.”

“You realize you shouldn't be thanking me, right?”

“I know. But I also know humans can be very cruel and you’ve shown me a lot of kindness. I wasn't sure it was still possible in your world. Oh, and Dean is alright. I asked Castiel to help him as I did you.” Sam kissed your forehead, and it felt like it lit on fire. Your cheeks were warm, and you weren't sure if you were ill, or what was happening to your very human vessel/ 

“Sam, are you sick?”

“Not that I’m aware of. Why d’you ask?”

“You just made my skin hot, and my stomach feels weird.” Sam froze, his lips coming into a smirk, “Did I?” He tested the waters, lacing his fingers over your arm, and you stared up at him, your cheeks pink and your mouth slightly open. 

You pulled him down on the bed, holding his face with your hands. “Yes.” You stated matter-of-factly.

He smiled, sliding his hands over your cheek. “You gonna do anything about that?” Sam spoke in your ear lowly and you turned your head, his hair tickling your face and leaving goosebumps on your arms.

“I don’t know what to do.” He curled further into your face, leaning closer to your ear, his mouth on the edge.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything, Angel.” 

You nodded, but opted for leaning up and placing a kiss on his forehead too.

“I think I need to teach you about other human stuff before we uh…do that.” You nodded, still leaning on Sam, when a thought came to your head. 

“Hey, Sam?” He gazed over your face, listening attentively to your sweet voice.

“I still have my grace and powers. But, since I’m not a real angel anymore…do you think I can try things like ice cream and taste the real flavor?” He threw his head back, laughing boyishly. 

“Yea, yea, I can buy you ice cream, angel.”

[golbrocklovely]

crave // sam and colby

A/N: sorry for posting this so late. had to finish up a few things on it, and i'm super tired so it kinda took me a while. this fic was a lot of fun to write, and if you squint it's sort of a sequel to "our girlfriend" (but not actually). lmk what you think and happy haunting :)

prompt: snc are vamps, but they need to keep their secret under wraps. they ask you, their long time best friend, to come out with them on tour to be their blood donor. what could go wrong? || AU!vampire!sam and colby x fem!reader

trigger warning: SMUT, but no actual sex, just a lot of dirty talk/description, snc are vampires, mentions of blood, biting, blood drinking (from both parties), their blood makes you horny, cursing, petnames mentioned: baby girl, sweetheart, darling, good girl, ours, deception, possibly some dubcon so just be weary of that if that's not your thing, but don't worry… it's all a dream…. or is it???

word count: 5428

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was odd having vampires for friends while being a human. Odd, but interesting.

Sam and Colby had been my friends since they moved out to LA, and it felt like we knew each other longer than that. We grew close almost instantly, telling each other some of our deepest secrets within the first few days of knowing one another. Then one day, they told me they were vampires. Of course I didn’t take them seriously; I mean who would? Vampires aren’t real.

I soon learned very quickly that they were when I caught one of the boys drinking from a girl at a party.

Eventually I came around to the idea. I mean, vampires are pretty cool, so knowing my best friends were ones was kind of awesome. Especially since that lead to so many other questions of what else is out there.

Sam and Colby weren’t much help in that department. They only knew that they were changed right before moving to LA. They didn’t know by who or why, but they learned to accept it and embrace it quickly. Everything new that they learned about themselves and their kind, they told me.

They were scared, however, that one day their secret would come out. A very small number of people knew about their... abilities. Vampires weren’t known to the broader world yet, and they definitely didn’t want to be the first to come out.

It was getting harder to hide their secret as they grew more and more successful. More eyes were on them. And then they told me about how they planned to go on a tour, meeting as many fans as possible across the US. I was excited for them, but was a little nervous. They deserved all the love that they were getting from their fans, but hiding their true identity wasn't going to be easy on tour.

But then, they asked me something I would have never expected.

“Would you go on tour with us as our... blood donor?” Colby asked, unable to keep eye contact with me.

I raised an eyebrow at him and Sam, “...What?”

“Okay, so... usually when we go out of the country or whatever, we’re able to secure a donor, or even blood bags from local hospitals. But because we are going to every state, sometimes twice, it’s hard to do that without people growing suspicious. And while we could go feed on people, we might get caught. So we were wondering if maybe you would want to go on tour with us and... we would drink from you instead.” Sam explained, fidgeting slightly in his chair.

Colby chimed in, “Of course you can say no. But if you do it, we would 100% compensate you, however you want. We know you’re busy with your career as well, but we promise to pay you well. And of course get you your own hotel rooms and food.”

“Everything would be paid for. And you would really be doing us a solid.” Sam added.

“What would my position be for those that ask?” I questioned, crossing my arms.

“You’d be our second assistant, since we already have one. Plus, we would just let anyone know that you’re our friend joining us to meet fans.” Sam answered.

“Hmm..." I asked, lowering my voice, "Does it hurt? Being... fed on?”

“The initial bite can feel like being pricked with a needle. But afterwards, it shouldn’t be bad.” Sam remarked.

Colby commented, "Plus we would give you our blo-"

Sam smacked him in the arm, glaring, "Dude, how about we ease into that conversation?"

"You would give me your blood? To what?" I queried.

They both paused, "...Drink."

I narrowed my eyes, "Humans can drink vampire blood?"

"Yes. And apparently they like it. A lot." Colby laughed.

Sam smirked, "He dated a girl once that got really into his blood. So much so she stalked him for it."

"Jesus," I mumbled. "Wait, was that-?"

"Ashley, yeah." Colby nodded.

I gasped, "Oh my god, I thought she was just crazy."

"Well, she was. Off of vampire blood." Sam chuckled.

"Our blood can give a euphoric feeling to the person that drinks it. So sometimes people react to it like it’s a drug." Colby mentioned.

Sam continued, "But it heals you, which is why we give it in the first place. If we drink from you, you drink ours."

"So... will you do it? Be our blood donor?" Colby asked, a nervous smile on his lips.

I took a minute, weighing the pros and cons in my mind. I exhaled, nodding, "Sure."

Both of them grinned excitedly. "Thank you, Y/N. You have no idea how much this helps us."

~~\ /~~\ /~~

The tour began a couple days later, all of us meeting at the airport and flying to our first stop, New York City. The meet and greet, sponsored by Zumiez, was being held in a large theater. It was gorgeous and very spacious. The nice thing was that I got my own little dressing room, filled with snacks and anything else I had requested. I was surprised at how weirdly relaxing my day had been, having just sat around and worked on a few things for my actual job.

Sam and Colby hadn't fed on me yet, and I was getting worried. How often do they need to drink? Are they both going to do it at once? Is it actually going to hurt? What-?

A soft knock at my door brought me out of my thoughts. I walked over to the door, opening it slowly. Sam stood, leaning against the door frame. "Can I come in?"

I nodded, opening the door more for him. "What's up?"

"Would you be okay with me drinking from you now? I know it's kind of last minute, but I promise next time I'll give you more of a heads up. Or maybe we could make a schedule or something." He laughed awkwardly.

"Can I ask some questions before we do it?" I requested, sitting down on the couch.

He agreed, leaning against the vanity across from me. "Of course. Whatever you want to know."

"How often do you guys need to drink?" I questioned.

"Once a day is usually our go to. More sometimes if we're really hungry or if we skipped a day." He admitted plainly.

"Do you both have to drink from me simultaneously?" I continued.

Sam shook his head, "No. If anything, it's better that we do it separately, especially since this is the first time you're having someone feed off of you."

"So Colby is gonna feed off of me later?" I asked, relaxing back against my seat.

"Maybe. He might skip today and feed tomorrow. That's what he was thinking of doing. He's a bit stronger than me when it comes to..." Sam cleared his throat, "urges."

"Oh... Have you guys ever... you know?" I mimed slicing my throat, killing someone.

He gaped at me, "My God no. We know how to stop before it ever gets to that point. The last thing we want to do is kill someone. So you don't need to worry. Plus, too much human blood makes us high."

"Really?" I snorted.

"Yeah. We only learned that from a random vampire we met in Vegas, so it might be a lie. We haven't exactly tested that theory." He commented.

"Okay..." I exhaled, "I think I'm ready."

He walked towards me, smiling politely. "Alright. Come here."

I slowly stood up, stepping towards him. He placed his hands on my waist, holding me in place.

He locked eyes with me, "If it hurts, you tell me and I'll stop, okay?"

"Yes sir." I saluted teasingly.

His face dropped, "I'm serious, Y/N. I don't want to hurt you. Neither of us do."

"I know. I appreciate the concern." I sighed, "Just drink."

He nodded, cupping one side of my face gently. He turned my head so my neck was more exposed. He lowered his head into my throat, breathing me in for a moment. My heart skipped a beat, confused and overwhelmed. I hadn't realized how intimate this was going to be.

Suddenly, he opened his mouth, sinking his fangs in. I winced, grabbing his forearms to steady myself. He took a gulp of my blood, a very quiet moan falling from his lips. I could feel my blood leave my body, my life draining gradually. My legs began to go limp, unable to hold up my body weight. Sam caught me, pressing me closer into his warm embrace. He grunted, pulling his mouth away, licking up the excess blood that spilt from the bite.

"Are you okay, Y/N? Talk to me." He held my face, making me focus on him.

I slurred my words a bit, "I feel... okayyyy."

"Here, let's sit you down and give you some of my blood." Sam walked me to the couch, placing me down. He sat behind me, leaning me against him. He bit into his wrist, blood gushing from it. "Drink, Y/N."

He pressed his wrist to my mouth, forcing my lips to open. I tasted his blood, grimacing at the taste. But suddenly, it tasted amazing. Like everything sweet I had ever had rolled into one. I wrapped my lips over his bite, drinking from him quickly. I had never been this thirsty for something before in my life. It was like being on the brink of dehydration and finding a whole bottle of water. I placed my hands on the back of his arm, needing him more in my mouth.

"There you go, baby girl. Drink up." Sam cooed, rubbing my hair softly.

I moaned against him, my body buzzing. My one hand dropped down onto his thigh, gripping it. Erotic thoughts crowded my thoughts, another groan leaving my mouth.

He pulled his arm away, sitting me up instantly. "That's enough, Y/N. Don't want to get you high."

I felt a whine fall from my lips, embarrassment heating up my cheeks as I realized what I did. "Oh, um, shit. My bad, Sam. Sorry."

"No, you're okay," he assured me, standing up. "I've heard it's hard for humans to stop once they've started, so we kinda have to yank you away from us."

I could suddenly feel my damp underwear press against me, my face burning up more. "I-I get it. Thanks for doing that. It felt like I couldn't stop. A-Are you okay?"

"Yeah, already healed." He showed his wrist, the bite gone. "Make sure to drink plenty of water and eat something. You'll probably actually feel hungry soon."

I pursed my lips. "Thanks. I'll make sure to do that."

Sam took a few steps towards the door, stopping abruptly. He spun back, his eyes wide. "Oh my God, Y/N, I'm so sorry. I forgot to tell you something!"

I blinked, "What?

"Having our blood in your system... it might make you dream about us." He stated.

I chuckled, "Wait really? That's weird."

"Yeah. But um... the dreams might be a bit on the... sexual side?" He grimaced.

My face dropped, "What."

"That's what some people, girls, have said to us in the past," he mentioned. "I don't know if it's true, but it can happen. So I just want you to be aware."

I mumbled, "Would have been nice to know about this beforehand..."

Sam replied, his expression softened. "I apologize, really. It just slipped my mind. I haven't drank from someone directly in a while so I totally forgot."

"Hey, it's alright. It's just a dream." I added, "It might not even happen."

He grinned, "Exactly."

~~\ /~~\ /~~

It happened.

It very much happened.

The dream itself was odd, all over the place, and I barely remembered any of it. All I knew was that I woke up hot, sweating, and aching to be fucked. By specifically Sam. That, tied with literally soaking my underwear as he drank from me.... I was not excited to keep this job up.

Even if the pay was phenomenal.

But maybe things would get easier. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after we got into a routine.

The next day they told me that they would make sure to have one of them only feeding on me once a day, that was I wasn't 'overworked'. Sam would go on even days, Colby on odds. And today was odd.

It was midday, the boys already a couple hours into their meet and greet. I waited backstage in a small hallway, scrolling through Instagram. Colby hadn't drank from me, and I wondered if he even planned to.

I heard footsteps coming towards me, heavy on the heel. I looked up and spotted Colby. He gave me a light smile, growing closer to me.

"Hey, are you okay? Shouldn't you be out on stage meeting fans?" I questioned, squinting at him.

"We are. We're taking a ten minute break." He responded, pressing his back against the wall by me.

"Oh, that's good. You guys have been at it for..." I checked my watch, "Four hours, wow."

Colby interrupted, "I know this is last minute to ask you, but can I... get a drink?"

"Right here? Now?" I pointed to the hallway.

"Yeah. No one is coming down this hallway. Security is making sure of that." He stated firmly.

I lowered my voice, "Do they know?"

"Of course." He bit his lip, "I'm sorry to do this right now, but I'm worried if I wait until after, I might... snap, on someone."

My eyes widened, "Oh... We wouldn't want that."

"No, we would not." He laughed nervously.

"Um, yeah. Go ahead." I stood up, taking a deep breath as I looked at him.

"Here, put your hands on my shoulders. I don't want you to fall over." He directed.

"Okay." I giggled, doing what he said. He lightly placed his hands on my hips, pushing closer to me. I did my best not to shudder, his closeness making my heart erratic. I turned my neck towards the wall, feeling his breath fan across my skin. I inhaled, and felt his teeth sink in quickly. I gasped, the pain lasting for a moment. I cupped his shoulders hard as he drank from me, slowly draining my blood into himself. He hummed, his hands slipping up my back and pulling me in deeper. I sighed, pleasure taking over my senses.

It felt good to have Colby this close, to feel him drink from me. That thought alone made my heart skip.

Colby pulled away, looking at me hesitantly, "Are you okay? I heard your heart stop for a second."

"Wha? Yeah, I'm fine." I could feel my hands tremble, "I think I forgot to breathe."

"Well, take some of my blood." He bit his wrist, pushing it towards me.

"I don't know, I think I'm okay." I argued half-heartedly.

"Drink, Y/N. Don't be stubborn." Colby smirked playfully at me.

I glared back sassily, leaning towards his bite. I placed my mouth on it as he pressed it further into my mouth. His hand rested softly on my side as my body turned into him, my back pressing against his front. As I spun, his hand drifted lower, touching the top of my thigh.

I sucked his blood down, the sweetness driving me crazy immediately. It was different from Sam's, but just as addictive. He chuckled deeply at my eagerness, allowing me to wrap my hands around his arm to keep him close.

"It's okay darling. Drink up. I'm not going anywhere." He whispered low.

My blood raced at his words, a whimper falling from my lips. I could feel it again, the ache between my legs. But this time I didn't care. All I could think about was his blood, or his cock. And both were making me wet.

He pulled back suddenly, a 'pop' noise echoing off the fluorescent lighted walls from my mouth. "Y/N, while I would allow you to drink from me for forever, I gotta get back."

"I-I-I," I took a deep breath, getting my bearings again, "Yeah. That's, um, probably for the best."

"Are you okay? Do you need me to stay with you?" He questioned, looking me over.

"No. Go ahead. I'll be alright." I confirmed.

He pressed his forehead against mine sweetly, "Hey, I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner about the whole dream thing. How was it last night? Did you dream of Sam?"

I stepped back, blushing. "N-No. No, I didn't. I honestly can't remember my dream."

He beamed, "Well that's good. Maybe it will be the same tonight."

I nodded. "Hopefully."

~~\ /~~\ /~~

We were over a week into this arrangement and I felt like I was losing my mind.

Every day one of them was feeding on me, and every night I had a dirty dream about them. It didn't matter if I only had a sip of their blood or a lot. If their blood was in my system, I was dreaming about them fucking me senseless. And that's all I wanted. I couldn't even look at them without feeling like I wanted to rip their clothes off and beg them to fuck me.

It was embarrassing, tormenting, and made me feel insane. And also incredibly hot.

Luckily tonight was our first night off of the tour. We decided to all go out to eat and drink once it got late. Sam and Colby told me that they planned to find someone else to feed on, or possibly hit up a local blood bank, so I could rest easy tonight knowing they weren't going to feed on me.

God knows I needed the break...

Even though Sam and Colby's blood had been out of my system for a day, I still felt this overwhelming urge to fuck them. I couldn't deny that feeling this way left me confused beyond belief. Sure, they were good looking guys, and at times I had thought about kissing them or what it would be like to date them, but I never gave it more than a passing thought. But now all I could think about was them inside of me, taking me and doing what they wan-

No. No. No. Not tonight. Tonight I would relax, unwind, and drink.

And I did just that. I drank, and drank, and drank. The world felt a little off balance, a bit too spinny for my liking. I leaned against the wall of the bar, staring at the dance floor lights.

Sam sauntered over to me, "Heyyy, Y/N. You okay?"

"I'm Gucci, my dude," I snickered. I pointed at his drink, "Wait, vampires can get drunk?"

"Oh yeah. Especially since we didn't drink tonight." He admitted, then laughed. “Did you think we were acting all those times you saw us at parties plastered?”

"What really? I thought you guys planned to get some from..." I waved my hand around, "somewhere."

"We were, but it was a bust. Or our connection fell through." He shrugged it off, "But don't worry, we'll figure it out."

"I mean... you could always drink from me." I responded, ignoring the dull ache in my stomach.

He shook his head, "No, no. This is your night off. You deserve it. Don't worry about us."

I raised an eyebrow at him, "Are you sure?"

"Of course, Y/N." He confirmed.

Colby stumbled over to us, saying something in Sam's ear. "Hey, we're gonna head back to the hotel. You ready to leave?"

"Actually... yeah. I think I've drank enough tonight." I giggled, walking through the crowd to the exit with Sam and Colby.

"Well, if you need to sober up a bit, our blood could help." Colby stated.

I huffed, "It's my night off."

"...From being drank from," Colby chuckled. "But if you want our blood, you can have some. Take your pick."

I glanced at the both of them, sighing. "How about we wait until we're back at the hotel, yeah? Then I'll figure that out."

The ride home was tense, or at least it was for me. I felt like both boys were looking at me, waiting for me to make my choice. My skin grew hot under their stare, the ache coming back again.

C'mon. This was supposed to be my one night off.

Entering the hotel, the boys locked arms with me gently, helping me to the elevator.

I smiled lazily, "You don't need to help me. I'm not that drunk."

"Really? You sure about that?" Sam smirked.

"Trust me." I mumbled, "I sobered up in the car."

“Well that's good. But you should still have some of our blood.” Colby persisted.

The elevator 'dinged' softly, the doors opening slowly. I walked down the hallway towards my room, the boys following right behind me. I pulled out my key card, swiping it and yanking open my door.

I whined, trying to pull my shoes off to no avail. "Remind me to never get drunk in heels again. It sucks." I flopped down on the bed, groaning into the cover.

"So, do you want us to leave? We can always do this in the morning." Sam asked.

I picked my head up, "No, it's okay. I'll be honest, I still haven't made a decision about who to drink from."

"Well take a second if you want to." Colby spoke.

"There's no need." I sat up, turning to them. "I don't want to do it out of order so... drink from me first."

He frowned. "What? No, it's your day off."

"It's fine, Colby. I know it is, but you guys didn't eat... drink, today." I assured him.

Colby looked over at Sam accusingly, and he shrugged. "I accidentally let it slip."

"You usually are a blabbermouth when you're drunk." I teased.

Colby shook his head, "We'll be fine."

"I mean... maybe we should drink, if she's okay with it." Sam argued lightly.

"I am okay with it. Plus, you'll just give me your blood anyway. So then we'll be even." I remarked.

Colby's expression softened, Sam's face matching his. "Are you sure? I don't want you to do this if you don't want to."

"I totally don't mind, guys. Really." I insisted.

Colby paused for a minute, then nodded. "Okay, but we're only taking a little from you."

"That's fine by me." I stood up, swaying back and forth as my lightheadedness faded. The boys placed hands on my back, keeping me from falling.

Sam snorted, "Yeah, we're definitely only taking a little."

They gave each other a glance, Sam sliding towards me first. I gazed at him, snaking my eyes across his face, then tilted my head back.

His voice came out in a husky whisper, "Aren't you eager..."

I rolled my eyes, "Just do it before I change my-"

My breath hitched, Sam's fangs sinking deep into my skin. I grabbed his arms, bracing myself as he drank from me. He grunted lowly, his body firmly against mine.

I peered out of the corner of my eye, watching Colby watch us. He studied my face, taking in my expression. My eyes fluttered as Sam pulled away, stopping much sooner than he usually would.

"Fuck... I needed that." He wiped his mouth, making sure to lick the excess blood off his hand. My core throbbed at his actions. I bit my lip to keep from moaning. "Your turn, Colby."

He locked eyes with me, "You good?"

I stammered, "S-Sure. Go ahead."

"Let me know if it's too much, okay?" He uttered.

I nodded, moving my head to the other side and allowing him access. He lowered his mouth onto my neck, biting softly. I exhaled, my hands holding onto his arms. He took a few sips from me, then pulled back. "Wait, let me get a better angle."

I squinted at him, confused. He circled around, stopping behind me. His hands slithered to my hips, tugging me closer.

"Much better." He grunted, then sank his teeth into me hastily. I gasped, surprised by the force.

I looked up at Sam, his eyes gazing at us with a devilish glint. He cocked his head to the side, slinking over to us inch by inch. "I think you should take some of my blood now, Y/N. Before you get too light headed."

He bit into his wrist, placing it in front of me. "Drink up."

I leaned forward some, taking his blood into my mouth. I sighed, euphoria hitting me instantly. I had never had one of them drink from me while the other gave me blood. My mind was race, my heart pounding loudly against my chest. My body in flames from pleasure and pain. And I couldn't tell which one I liked more.

Sam's fangs dazzled in the light as he spoke, "Oh, Colby. We forgot to tell her something again."

Colby released his mouth from my neck, swallowing, "And what could that be Sam?"

Sam's eyes landed on mine, almost empty of feeling, "When you exchange blood like this with us... it makes you ours."

I furrowed my brow at him, keeping my mouth on his wound. My voice came out muffled, "Ours?"

"Yeah. Ours. See, we might have deceived you a little bit." Sam shrugged.

"Our bad." Colby snickered.

"He and I have been into you for a while, Y/N. But we knew you only ever saw us as a friend. Plus, we didn't want to have to fight over you so we thought the best course of action would be to just... make you both of ours." Sam grinned evilly, "And God, you made it so easy. Just following along without question."

Colby pressed his lips against my ear, keeping his voice deep and low. "With our blood running through your system, you will always be ours. You will be just as obsessed with us as we are with you."

My mind and body barely took their words in, the only thing I wanted was more of Sam's blood. My cunt pulsed as his blood invaded my system, my mind only thinking of him and all of the things I wanted him to do to me.

Sam yanked his wrist away, a desperate mewl escaping my mouth.

My mind was foggy, my head catching up to what I just heard. "W-W-What? Are you guys-?"

Colby spun me, pushing me back into Sam. He wrapped his arm around me tight, biting into my neck. Colby did the same to his wrist, placing my mouth on it. I grunted against him, glaring at him for a moment before all of my anger melted into pure bliss.

Colby's blood mixed with Sam's... and suddenly I wanted nothing more than for both of them to take me. God I could almost feel them inside of me, touching me in all the right spots.

"There you go, baby. Such a good girl for us." Colby smirked.

Sam pulled his mouth away, just to place it against the hollow of my ear, "Our good girl."

I could feel some of my mind come back to me for a split second. I hissed against Colby's wrist, "Fuck you."

He scoffed, "Sweetheart, you can say that all you want, but I know deep down you don't mean it. Well, you don't mean it in that way."

"Don't lie to us, baby girl." Sam sang angrily, latching his mouth back onto my bite.

"You know how we know that? I've heard you every night of this tour moan our names in your sleep. I've heard the way you whimper and cry and beg for us to fuck you when you touch yourself," Colby growled, his eyes intense as they bore into mine. "Don't deny it, Y/N.

Sam yanked back his mouth as Colby pulled his wrist away. I panted, keeping my distance from them and pressing myself against the desk. They stared me down, taking me in like prey.

My legs were shaking, my body tingling everywhere. I felt like I was on fire from the inside out. I had never been so wet in my entire life. I wanted to scream at them, to hate them, to tell them to leave. But everything in my head and body were begging them to stay; to touch me.

Sam stepped towards me, closing the gap between us, "You're ours, Y/N. Doesn't that sound amazing? To be shared by us?"

I couldn't help but nod my head. I wanted to deny it, but it wasn't true.

"No one else can have you like this. Only us." Sam whispered into my ear, turning my head gently to look at him. He leaned in and kissed me deeply, taking my breath away with the feverish kiss. My hand dug into his shirt, holding on it as his tongue tasted mine.

I was ripped away from his kiss as Colby pushed himself against me. He cupped my face, rolling my head towards him. "Only us," he stated. He pressed his lips to mine, his mouth and tongue tender against my own. I whined as I felt Sam begin to kiss my neck, nibbling and sucking on the skin. I could hear him murmur 'ours' over and over again.

Colby removed his mouth from mine, following Sam's lead in kissing and nipping at my neck and body. I was overwhelmed, my chest rising and falling rapidly. I squeezed my eyes shut, still feeling Sam and Colby snake up and down my body with their hands and mouths. A breathy groan escaped my lips, my mind unable to slow down. If they touched the right spot, I would completely come undone.

I needed them. I wanted them. I would do anything for them.

The sound of silence fell over the room. Then, a low ringing took over my hearing. Soon it grew louder and louder and louder. I popped my eyes open, gasping.

I was in my hotel room, and it was bright outside. The ringing was my alarm on my phone going off - 9:30 A.M.

I sat up, my head weighing a thousand pounds. I was in my clothes from the night before, but tucked comfortably into bed.

How the fuck did I get here? Where the hell were Sam and Colby?

It suddenly dawned on me - Oh my God, that was a dream?

There's no way. That felt too real. That can't be right.

I changed quickly, knowing that Sam and Colby would be waiting for me in the lobby so we could travel to the next venue. I never unpacked, so I threw my dirty clothes in my suitcase, and trudged out the door with everything I had brought.

I stumbled down to the lobby, finding Sam and Colby waiting off to the side for me with their luggage. Their assistant was talking to them, along with someone from Zumiez's team, about the upcoming meet and greet.

Colby beamed when he saw me, "Hey, we were wondering if you were gonna make it."

"What happened last night?" I glared.

Sam turned at the sound of my voice, "Do you not remember...?"

"Just tell me what happened. Please." I answered, short.

Colby inhaled, "Well, we planned to... continue drinking in your room. But once we got there, you flopped on your bed and passed out."

"We figured you were too tired after all the traveling and drinking that we just decided to call it a night." Sam added.

Colby commented, "I took your shoes off before tucking you in. I know you hate falling asleep with heels on."

"Oh." I vaguely remembered falling onto my bed. And my shoes were off when I woke up… "I could have sworn something else happened."

Colby gasped lowly, "Did you have a dream about us?"

I immediately blushed, "Um, you could say that."

"What was it about? Tell me." He pleaded.

"I don't think you want to know, to be honest. I squirmed under their gaze, doing my best to ignore the parts of the dream my body couldn't forget. "It was kind of all over the place. And you guys were a bit... mean, to say the least."

"Oh, shit. Well, sorry that my dream self was an asshole to you." Colby apologized.

Sam agreed, "Ditto."

I half smiled, exhaling. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

"Of course, Y/N. You're our..." Sam smiled, "best friend. We would never be mean to you."

"Unless you want us to be, of course." Colby taunted, a mischievous look in his eye.

[pix-writes]

I can hear your heartbeat

Vampire!Stanford Pines x F!Reader

Summary: Ford encounters a creature in the woods that bites him and he seems to be a little… strange. He can't seem to focus with his lab assistant around.

AO3

Words: 3.4K

Rating: Explicit (18+) | Warnings/tags: blood drinking, smut, mutual pining, possessive!ford, mildly dub con (because of circumstances, if you squint?), passing out/fainting, blood and vampire kink (ofc), no use of y/n | A/N: Here's my vampire ford fic, happy halloween!

He knows that you know something’s not quite right. He pauses in his journal entry as he risks a glance in your direction.

He knows that you know something’s not quite right. He pauses in his journal entry as he risks a glance in your direction. You were focused, head bent over your work, leaving him the sight of your curved neck. Sensing that you are being observed, you look up across the lab and meet his eyes.

He can almost fancy that he can hear your heartbeat change as he resumes writing, the steady thump-thump rising to a faster tempo. He can feel your stare as he looks down at his page… now, your heart’s rhythm goes back to resting. Ford has always felt a comfort in your presence, now it seemed to be permeating the whole house… warm, inviting. It’s become a distraction.

He needed to recall in detail what he had observed of his latest creature sighting, he crosses out his last line, realising that he had actually written about you in his distracted state. He just needed to convince you that he was fine, so he could continue to observe the effects, he had most of an antidote ready once he had recorded what he needed.

It had all started a few days ago, you had been at an out of town harvest fair. You had tried to persuade Ford to take a step out of the lab for once, though he declined. It was the perfect evening to study the nocturnal fungi species he had been observing in the forest.

Suddenly, out of nowhere he had been chased, heard the beating of leathery, wide wings of a bat-like creature. It had pursued him for half of the journey and despite his frantic attempts to shake him off, the creature had been able to sink his claws into him and left a bite before he managed to get some good punches in, rolling off of a verge down into thicket. The vampiric creature flew off at that point, whether it was the forest terrain or the fighting that had deterred it from following him home from there, he didn’t know for certain.

You had found him, of course you had. He had lost so much time, that by the time he had gotten over the threshold, his strength had weakened, he’d dragged himself into the kitchen by the time you pulled up in your car. He could imagine now, how disturbing it must’ve been to see the house and him in such a state on your return. However, he didn’t catch it at the time, your determined mind a useful asset times of emergencies, patching him up. He had felt proud in that moment, despite his position, your attributes were perfect qualities in an assistant. Even if he had to endure a mild reprimand to lone working from you after the fact, he congratulated himself that he had found someone up to the tasks that his research would need.

You had insisted that he see a doctor, just in case, maybe the creature could’ve carried rabies. As the days wore on, though, he knew you weren’t satisfied with his explanations. You hadn’t said anything, but from your breathing, how your eyes widened, he sensed the slight fear. It was foolish of him, but Ford was only just realising your observant nature was not purely limited to study, but to people and your surroundings. Had you always been scrutinising him in this way before?

Ford felt a nagging guilt at the idea of withholding information from you, however, he didn’t want you to freak out. You could be mad at him later and once you saw his results, he was sure that you couldn’t be upset for long. After all, wasn’t it you he had caught reading those cheap, gothic romances a month into your acquaintance? It still amused him to find you at your desk during breaks reading them, irked that you had been interrupted. Sometimes he even found them on the shared counterspace in the lab and he had gleaned that vampires seemed to be a common denominator.

Part of him wished that Fiddleford was still here, having left you both for a long stay with family, although his good friend was more superstitious than either of you put together. Perhaps the house was too quiet without him? Though that didn’t seem right.

Working silently with someone who didn’t feel the need to converse (or play the banjo at odd hours) wouldn’t have bothered him before, in fact he liked how you weaved past one another in the lab when you were working on the same analysis, completely in tune. But something had shifted… his new state was testing his endurance, if only he had another distraction…

A hand waved in front of his face and he dropped his pen. “Earth to Ford!”

“Yes?”

“I’ve finished the first round of the experiment!” You grinned, beckoning him to follow you to your side of the lab. “I think it might need just a little adjustment with the amount of sample I used but…”

Absorbed in your own explanation, your elbow knocked over the tripod that held your analysis.

“Be careful!” 

“Shit, sorry I’ve got it!”

The crucible had broken, and you scrambled to pick it up and sliced one of your fingers in the process, letting out a hiss at the sting.

Ford had let in a breath at that moment. Big mistake. His senses had been flooded with the delicious scent of your blood. He dug his fingers into the flesh of his arm to centre himself.

He could feel saliva flood into his mouth, the soreness in his canines and tried to swallow. His vision became tunnelled, focused now on the scents of the room. He could hear his own heartbeat, fast and erratic in his ears. Not now!

“Clumsy me, stay back, I don’t want you to get acid on you!” You hadn’t picked up on anything strange about him as he moved back. Your voice sounding far away.

After sweeping up the broken pieces into the waste bucket, instinct made you go to put your bleeding finger into your mouth. Ford caught your arm harshly. 

“Don’t do that!” You looked at him quizzically. Ford could sense the fluctuations in your heartbeat. When you breathed in, the muscles in your neck, your jugular, became more prominent at this angle. Fuck. “It’s not hygienic.” 

“It’s like a papercut, Ford.” The thump, thump, thump became steady again.

“Here.” Quickly handing you a tissue to stem the flow, he opened the packaging on a band-aid.

You noticed the clench to his jaw. “I’m fine, you know, I can patch myself up.”

But he continued without saying anything, securely wrapping your finger, the tension remaining.

Ford was packing items back into the first aid kit when he suddenly stumbled, holding onto the counter so he didn’t fall. “Hey! Ford, you alright?”

“Ah, fine, I- um…”

You frowned. “I really think you need to go to see a doctor; this isn’t right.” Before he could stop you, your hands were cupping his face, checking him over. The heat of your hands felt like fire on his skin. “Your wound looks worse. And you’re freezing!”

“Maybe you’re right. I’ll go in the morning, first thing, don’t worry.” 

Ford told you to continue with what you were doing, and you relented under assurances that he’d take care of himself. He saw the disappointment in your eyes as he brushed you off. It took all of his will to not grab hold of you right then and there, wanting to sink into your touch and your care. You and Fidds were always clucking round him like mother hens. He felt so tired, his mind wanted him to give into it, but he pushed himself up the stairs, feeling with each step that haze that had almost overpowered him dissipate.

He let out a groan of relief once he closed his bedroom door. His skin felt like it was in a cold sweat. He dragged a hand through his hair and pulled at the roots to sharpen his focus. He couldn’t keep this up much longer, he needed to feed. Later, he told himself. Later.

Slipping out of your shoes, you navigated the quiet hallways of the shack, your home away from home, with care.

Ever since he had the encounter with that giant bat creature in the woods, he hasn’t been the same, perhaps anyone else would not notice the slight changes in his patterns, since he was one to neglect himself and bury himself in work on a daily basis, but you knew better. You had become determined to figure it out, once and for all.

He was too stubborn for his own good, something you clashed on at times, and so you hadn’t pushed him too much to seek medical attention, knowing there was a fine balance in how much you could say to Ford as his assistant. You had your suspicions of what was happening, but even then, it seemed absurd; you had seen some strange things happen in Gravity Falls, but could that really be real?

Just in case. Just for my peace of mind, you reassured yourself as you pulled the journal out of the pile of notes on Ford’s desk, flipping through sections to skip to the last entries. There must be something in here that can give you a clue to how to help him…

There was always a dim light in the lab, a faint bluish glow from the machinery that Fiddleford was working on. Sneaking around like this felt illicit and you knew that Stanford wouldn’t take kindly to you going through his work without permission. Turning on the desk lamp felt like it would dispel the stillness of the empty place and so you strained your eyes to read on in the light already provided.

A creak sounded from behind you, sending a jolt of panic to your gut.

“You shouldn’t be down here. It’s late.” The light backlit the figure’s silhouette as they stepped out from the doorframe, the tone unreadable. 

“S-Stanford!” You retreated from the desk. “You startled me. I was just-”

“-Sneaking around in the dark?” As he stepped forward, turning on one of the lamps, the warm lighting disrupting the angle of the shadows.

“Look, I apologise if I have crossed a line but,” You paused in your answer, noticing behind him in the storage room, where discarded cups had rolled across the table, leaving trails of blood. “I want to know what’s going on.”

“And what will you do with the answer?” The reply made you grit your teeth, hands balling up into fists. You felt awash with adrenaline. How dare he ask you such a thing! Did he think after all this time you’d do anything against him?

Without even thinking of it consciously, Ford had been stalking towards you as you had been backing away and you bumped into the counter behind you.

“I just want to help you, Ford!” You didn’t mean for it to come out sounding indignant. It was almost a whine as Ford practically pinned you to the spot, gripping the counter either side of you. Your breath hitched at how close he was.

"I can hear your heartbeat." Ford’s eyes were dark as ink as he met your gaze. You shivered. “It's beating pretty fast.”

“Ford,” You let out a nervous laugh. “C'mon you're messing with me.”

“Seems to happen every time I get close to you. Do I make you nervous?”

“N-no I, nhg!” Your reply is cut off as Ford leans down to place a soft kiss to the inside of your wrist. The touch tickles your skin, making you flush with pleasure at the intimate sensation.

“Couldn’t stop yourself, could you?” It seemed like he was murmuring to himself, nuzzling his head into your hand and you catch a glimpse of pearly, sharp canines. “You want to help me? Because I don’t think I can stop myself right now.”

Even as alarm bells flood your mind at the situation, you didn’t stop him, didn’t pull away from his touch. Instead you gently pushed your thumb across his lips, inspecting the fangs, another shot of fear coursing through you. Stunned, you watched as Ford pressed a kiss to your wrist, opened his jaw and bit into your flesh in a supernaturally fluid motion.

The scream that escaped your mouth became stuck in your throat as the pain seared through you. It felt as though his fangs had hit bone.

The muscles in your body locked up. Heart thudding against your own chest, tears flowing unbidden from your eyes. You whimpered as Ford’s mouth felt tight around your now-open wound, free hand striking out at the table for support.

The stabbing pain suddenly subsided, leaving in its wake a pleasure that made you feel like you were on the drunk side of tipsy. It thrummed through your body, down between your legs.

You moaned, unable to look away from the sight of Ford, eyes glazed over as he took what he wanted from you.

Why had he resisted for so long?

The animal blood he had been gorging himself on just a moment ago, faded away in comparison to human blood. The salty taste of your skin giving him a complete contrast to the sweetness of your blood that was as blissful as it was hard to describe.

He felt every throb of your heart as he fed from you uncoiling his self-control, the shame in his gut from hurting you mixing with the lust he had pushed down for far too long. It wasn’t until your fingers carded through the side of his hair that a flash of clarity came over him and he loosened his grip on your arm. Soothing the bite with his tongue.

“Fuck, you taste incredible.” He growled.

This had to be some kind of dream of yours, some fantasy come to life as you stared blearily into the hungry look of the man in front of you. Now it was your turn to pull him in, pressing your lips to his, the metallic taste of your own blood on his tongue.

"I need to taste more of you." His touch roamed over you, fingers dipping under your clothes before he paused. "Can I?"

"Yes, god, yes.” You didn't have to wait long, helping him to push off your pants, flinging them to the side by the time his mouth was on you. Lips trailing across your inner thigh. If your head wasn’t swimming with desire, you would have felt a little embarrassed at how wet you had become since the researcher had fed from your wrist.

But Ford wasted no time, mouth warm and insistent, humming as you moaned, the vibrations making you tip your head back.

Though, you could tell his movements were careful, and you wondered whether he hesitated from not wanting to hurt you or from inexperience.

“Ford, please." Taking hold of his hand on your hip, you guided him. 

“Yes, yes! Like that.” He was a quick learner, slipping his fingers into your wet pussy, relieving the ache you had felt. 

Ford’s little pleased noises from your praise was setting you alight. His tongue glided through your folds, flicking up to your clit, his prominent nose adding extra stimulation as he ate you out.

“So good.” Your fingers once again ran through his hair, this time gripping as you reached your climax, whimpering as Ford lapped at your sensitive skin, savouring the taste of you.

There was a moment where you both caught your breath.

“Wow! That was amazing.” Ford looked dishevelled, a rare sight for you as he was usually so composed. Even when you had both been running from danger, he didn’t look like… this.

His face wasn’t the only part of him that was flushed, the ruddy colour dusted over the tips of his ears and over his chest. Tiny specks of blood littered his white shirt like freckles. Further down you could see the straining bulge in his pants, untouched. His pupils were blown, raking over you from head to toe in a way that made you feel conscious that you must also look a wreck. He felt warmer to the touch now and you filed that thought away for later analysis. That’s when you noticed that he wasn’t nearly as undressed as you are. That seemed unfair.

He said your name. “-I… It was, remarkable! But I’m sorry I didn’t mean to- are you, oh!”

Ford ceased to remember what he was trying to say as you kissed him, fingers quickly unbuttoning his shirt.

He helped you to push up onto the counter, shrugging his shirt off as he went, pulling more off of you as you nibbled at his ear and down his jawline.

“I need you.” Your touch went to his waist and he paused to unbuckle his pants. God, he had already left a wet spot on his boxers and you gasped into his mouth as you felt him. He was thicker than you had ever had before.

Ford leant onto the desk, gently pushing you backwards as he took up the space between your thighs. He pushed his cock against your slick folds, teasing you for a moment with the tip to watch you buck into his touch before he pushed himself all the way in. A guttural moan escaping from him as your pussy clenched around him.

His hands spread over the warm skin of your torso, pushing up your sweater which you discarded.

“Doing so well for me.” He rolled your nipples between his fingers as he continued his slow pace. You begged for him to use his mouth and when he did, it felt incredible, the barest hint of fangs along soft skin as he sucked at your tits. “Perfect.”

You whined, loud, clenching around his cock.

Ford let out a soft noise. It was familiar to you, like when he found something unexpected within his research, or you did something he found surprising. “You like that?” 

The smirk that was starting to form on his face was devastating. He could hear as your heartbeat thrummed once more into the rhythm that thrilled him, continuing to praise you.

“So perfect… So beautiful… Feel so good.”

But his newfound confidence started to crack as he started to get close, his grunts and groans becoming louder and more drawn out, lost in the feeling as you blissfully moved to a faster pace. Tugging at his hair once more to watch him keen.  

When two of Fords thick fingers reached down to circle your clit, you faltered.

“Please, please cum. Please, honey. N-need to, ah, need to feel it!”

Ford bit down just above your clavicle, brow resting against your shoulder as he devoured you once again. Your eyes were starting to roll back as you held onto his broad shoulders, nails digging into soft flesh, hearing him groan in response. Tightening around his cock, each thrust of his hips hitting that delicious spot within you. Tipping right on the edge, you didn’t want this to end, trembling as you felt Ford drag his tongue over the new bite.

“So beautiful and mine. All mine.” He groaned, looking at you slack jawed, chin shiny with spit and cum. “Mine.”  

The words went straight to your core and you came, back arching as you let the waves crash through you, bringing Ford over the edge by the rocking your hips. He held you close as you rode it out together, murmuring softly.

Although you had no idea what he said, head feeling fuzzy as he released you. You caught your breath and slid off of the counter, but your legs felt unsteady.

Ford called your name. “You alright?”

You wanted to reassure him, but you felt dead on your feet, head slumping against his chest.

He cursed under his breath. “Ah, I-I’m sorry! Sorry, there,” Ford quickly scooped you up, over his shoulder. “I’ve got you, darling.”

Post fic A/N: I had Ford as the narrator for most of it, cause I thought it was an interesting perspective, because even in his thoughts he's in denial ^^' so he's a little unrealiable on what his feelings to the reader are, so I thought people would be able to fill in the gaps where its obviously been a mutual pining situation! (disrupted by vampirism hahaha)

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Dancing With the Devil

A Vampire!Rhys x Reader Fic (because I am a SLUT for him) based on this post.

Content Warnings: Smut and blood, you know, typical vampire things.

___________________________

How you ended up on the dance floor in the middle of the Velaris Estate, being spun in dizzying circles by masked males as stringed instruments swell on a phantom wind, is anybody's guess. You think it might have been Nesta’s idea, but whatever schemes landed you in this dark, shadowy world is lost under the swell of music and rustling of skirts. You’re sure your friend is here somewhere, dancing her heart out, but the bodies clustered around you in a sea of dark lace and velvet make distinguishing anybody hard. She’ll find you by the end of the night, once she’s ditched her shoes and had a little too much to drink, for now, you’ll have to keep yourself entertained in one of the many options the party of the recently returned lord of the estate has to offer.

You don’t know much about Rhysand, other than the rumors that he came from very, very old money and had been away on the Continent while the Vampire Queen Amarantha’s reign of terror had ravaged the courts. He’s something of a local legend, always throwing these extravagant masquerade balls, the doors of this sprawling, gothic estate open until the sun begins to rise in the morning, without ever showing his face. He has to be here somewhere, directing the staff and making sure there’s no mischief happening in the locked rooms on the upper floors, but no one can tell you what he looks like, how old he is, any defining details. Honestly, realizing this was where you’d be spending the evening had been nothing short of a thrill. The war against the vampires had taken your father and left your older brother as heir of the Spring estate, he hadn’t let you out much to explore since.

Gloved hands twirl you around the dance floor again, the candlelight from the iron chandeliers overhead glittering like a thousand stars as you throw your head back and embrace the sheer weightlessness of the dance. It’s exhilarating and freeing, and you find yourself wishing that every night was like this. You’d thrive in this kind of freedom, no locked doors in empty mansions, no guards just to walk you through the gardens, only your wits and your whims dictating where you’ll go next.

The dance requires you to change partners often, so it is no surprise that a different, stronger set of hands settles on your hips as you come out of a spin and move into a more complicated three step. However, the tall stranger, with eyes so blue they’re almost violet beneath a mask shaped like a bat, is far better sight than the last male.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asks, and his voice is a lover’s purr, made for the darkness of a bedroom. 

“Immensely,” you say as you chase him through the steps, one hand on his firm shoulder, other atop his own against your waist. It is unlike you to keep your hands firmly planted on a male’s body, even while dancing, even with your brother’s watchful eye far away. Better to be cautious than be accused of having wandering hands, but you can make an exception. Forget you have ever done anything else, because the male wears a corset to accentuate every muscle in his lean body, dark shirt beneath left half open to show off a swirl of dark ink on his bronze chest. Every piece of clothing looks like an open invitation to touch. He knows it too, grinning when your hand slides a little lower on his chest.

“You dance beautifully,” he praises, perfect teeth biting at his lower lip as he drinks in the plunging neckline of your gown.

You’re thankful that your own mask hides the blush dusting your cheeks. “So do you.” He moves with inhumane grace, so fluidly you wouldn’t be able to track every step if he wasn’t pulling you along with him. 

Three more steps, then a fourth before the music begins to slow and he’s dragging your body closer to his own, large hand sliding over your hip to your lower back. 

“Will you dance another with me?” He asks, warm breath fanning your face as he leans in to be heard over the swell of a harp.

You nod eagerly, anything for a chance to have those hands on you a bit longer.

Two dances turn to four, then six, until you’ve lost count entirely, the night slipping away from you. At some point, he asks if you want to stop and get a drink, and you might have said no because this was just too good an opportunity to pass up, but the mischief in his violet eyes make you think better of it. You soon find yourself pulled through the swirling of bodies that hasn’t let up all night, and into a darker corner of the room, where couches and chairs and tables line the walls for people to observe the dancefloor with a little privacy. Quite a few of the couches are occupied with couples embracing in the shelter of the dark, where there are few candles to be observed under.

There’s a couch in the corner, beneath a large window, moonlight streaming over the dark cushions that’s empty and your companion leads you right to it. In your defense, you are expecting to be plied with a little wine before anything happens between the two of you, so you are unprepared for him to slide into the seat and pull you right into his lap!

Heat flares in your cheeks, body awkwardly tangled in your skirts as he pulls your hips forward to get you situated atop his powerful thighs. 

“What happened to drinks?” You ask, a little breathless from dancing and trying not to stammer under the brazenness of the display. You’re no blushing virgin, but you’ve certainly never been in this compromising a position in front of an audience before.

He brushes his nose over the column of your throat and places his plush lips against your skin, making all thought eddie from your mind.

“I intend to,” he says into your skin before he nips gently at your sensitive flesh.

Your whole body shivers, eyes fluttering shut. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Rhys,” he says as he kisses his way up your jaw.

Rhys as in… 

As if he can read your mind he chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin, “Only my enemies call me Rhysand.”

“How did you know that’s what I was going to ask?”

He hums as he scrapes his teeth playfully over your throat. The edges of his mask tickling your skin as it brushes against you, the contrast between his warm breath and the rough fabric sending a thrill down your spine. You should be absolutely mortified that you’re perched in the lord of the estate’s lap, but you can’t find it in you to care, can’t find it in yourself to do anything but settle a little more firmly against his body and let him explore.

“Mind reading is one of my many talents,” he purrs as his gloved hands slide over your hips, skirts bunching up around your thighs as slender fingers need the soft flesh of your ass.

You instinctively rock your hips forward, clothed core scraping over the budding tent in his slacks. The contact makes your head spin, makes you tip your head back a little as he sucks a mark into your throat. You’ll have to wear a scarf tomorrow to hide it from Tamlin.

“And what other talents do you have, M’lord?” You tease, because you’ve never believed in such magic. 

“I think I’d rather show you, Darling,” he says, but his mouth doesn’t form the words, they’re an echo inside your head, as if they’re your own thoughts in his voice.

You still your movements in his lap; this is not the magic of witches or mages, not some clever party trick of the traveling magicians that often pass through Prythian. They say only Vampires can possess talents like this.

Rhys grins at you as the realization clicks into place, and whatever glamor had been used to hide his fangs slides out of place, canine’s glinting in the moonlight. You put your hands on his chest, firm, but there’s no heartbeat beneath your palms, intending to push yourself off him before he can sink those fangs into your throat, but his grip on you tightens to the brink of pain. Your bones feel fragile, brittle under his supernatural grip.

“Relax, Darling,” he instructs and a shadow of sheer, undiluted power brushes over your mind, freezing you in place. “I promise this will be pleasant for the both of us.”

“Let go of me!” You squeak, still trying to push yourself free. “Or I’ll start screaming!”

He chuckles, the sound of it skittering over your bones, and the dim candles nearby flicker out, leaving you only visible in the moonlight. A few of the couples nearby cheer excitedly, as if that’s some sort of signal. 

“Here’s the thing,” he explains as he brushes his nose against the column of your throat again. When you try to squirm away, he only pulls you closer, lips hungrily tracing the pulse pounding in your neck. “I could go out into the woods, feed on some vagrants nobody cares about, spend my nights hunting for a warm body to take my fill of. But after a thousand years, the chase gets a little boring.”

A thousand years. Rhysand is a thousand year old Vampire?

“Why waste my time and energy, when I can bring a meal right to my doorstep?”

“Please,” you whimper, body trembling. “Please let me go. I won’t tell anybody.”

“I know you won’t,” he says, kissing your throat far more gently than somebody holding this tightly to you should. “That’s why I picked you. I know you want an escape from your life of locked doors.”

You still as he drags his lips along the edge of your jaw until he meets your ear. “Let me show you a way out.”

Your skin is sensitive there, his breath makes you shiver in delight, goosebumps prickling your skin. He can’t possibly know all this just by looking at you, he had to have been rummaging around in your head, probably while you were dancing. It’s an invasion of your privacy, and you should keep fighting for any chance to escape him, but there’s a piece of you that wants this. Tamlin will never give you a way out, the more you beg for your freedom the more doors he locks in your face, and if you go home in the morning, if you let him pick a husband for you, it will never be any different. There will only be more locked doors, only keeping a stranger’s bed warm, his house run, tending boys that will have more freedom than you’ll ever get just because they’re boys. You will be lucky if you’ll get to keep to your books and your sketches, lucky if you get to keep any hobbies at all that don’t include tending a house. You’re trapped in a cage no one can save you from if you don’t take this one key.

His fangs scrape over your earlobe as he nips playfully at it. “It’s an even bargain,” he prompts. “You let me feed, and I’ll show you a world of nothing but open doors, hmm?”

You’re a fool, and you’re pretty sure an agreement will damn your soul forever. 

“Will it hurt?”

“Only for a moment.”

A moment’s pain for an opportunity of unbridled freedom. “It’s a bargain,” you say, tipping your head back to fully expose your throat. You shut your eyes though, unable to watch it happen.

“Good girl,” Rhys purrs and there’s a little tingle, like electricity in your fingertips and palm that makes you crack an eye open for a second to look at the black whorls that now cover your fingertips, up your hand and over your wrist. Some sort of permanent bargain mark.

There’s no time to ask about it before Rhys sinks his fangs into your throat. The coppery scent of blood fills your senses, mind spinning to comprehend all that’s happening as pain flairs in the muscles in your neck. 

“So sweet,” he purrs into your mind. “Just as I’d hoped.”

He’s not letting up, but the longer it takes, the less pain you feel. The longer his fangs are in your neck, the warmer your body becomes. Your muscles slowly relax, pliant in his iron grip. When he rocks his hips, slowly, testing, you can’t help the groan that escapes you. Even as the last little rational bit of your mind screams in protest, your hips once again work over the bulge in his pants, chasing the heat budding in your core. 

When he removes his fangs from your throat, he laves over the wound with his tongue, not letting a single drop of your blood escape. “I’ve fed on a lot of humans,” he whispers, “but none as sweet as you.”

You can’t seem to stop moving, chasing after the pleasure building quicker and quicker as you rut your hips against his. “What’s happening to me?”

When he kisses you, it’s the coppery tang of your own blood on his lips. “Vampire venom is an aphrodisiac. Makes feeding a pleasurable experience for everybody, wouldn’t you agree?”

The scrape of his slacks is delicious, makes you squeeze your eyes shut and move without thinking about how brazen you look, but it’s not enough. You need more. Need him deeper. Need him moving inside you with the same fervor he had when feeding on you.

“Need you,” you whimper and he kisses you again, one hand tangling in your hair, absolutely ruining the updo you’d carefully constructed hours earlier. The other slides under your skirts to find the hem of your underthings and he gives the elastic band a testing pull before he rips it off entirely. 

You gasp in surprise into his mouth at the sheer strength of him.

The leather of his gloves is a cool texture against your bare skin as he drags a thumb over you and you rock your hips into his touch, desperately seeking more. He’d been right, this was definitely a more pleasurable experience than you anticipated it being. 

Rhys breaks the kiss as he slides a finger inside you, and you throw your head back and moan unabashedly. You don’t truly have the presence of mind to look at the other couples nearby, but judging by the sounds coming from around you, you’re not the only one partaking of this kind of pleasure tonight. The cover of darkness and music shields your activities well enough, but perhaps there are more than a few vampires in Rhys’s court, and they won’t risk their own hunts letting anybody look too close in your direction.

Plush lips move down your jaw again, like he just can’t stay away from your throat. You’re inclined to let him bite you again and again and again just to feel like this for a little while longer. Heat and pleasure builds at the base of your spine, burning white hot through you as he slides a second finger in your wetness, stretching you out.

“All this for me, Darling?” He scrapes his teeth over your skin, not biting but marking you as he searches for the collar of your gown. When he finds it, he starts dragging it away from your body with his teeth, deft fingers untying the laces at your back to let the excess fabric fall.

The cool air against your flushed skin has you whimpering, eyes screwed shut as you draw closer and closer to the edge. 

His fingers curl, hitting a spot inside you that makes stars swim across your vision and you bite down so hard on your lower lip to keep from screaming you draw blood. Like a moth to flame, his lips leave where he’d been sucking a mark into your shoulder to lap the slight trickle of blood off your lower lip. 

Maybe you’re wrong for it, but the sight is hot, makes you core tighten around his fingers, addicted to the way he craves you, as if you’re some sort of drug. You drag your hands down his chest, unclasping the last button you can reach before the corset gets in the way. You want to tear it off him and run your tongue over the firm planes of his chest, taste him just as he is you, but that will have to be another time. Your hands move lower, trying to find the laces of his pants around the bunched up frill of your skirts, needing more, unable to convey it around the white noise building in your head. It’s too much and not enough; the best you’ve ever had and you haven’t even cum yet. You’ve never felt so desperate for anything in your life.

He chuckles into your mouth at your neediness, hips rising off the couch to both tease you and give you the leverage you need to find the laces of his pants. You’re really not sure how you manage it around your skirts, how you can think about anything but the movement of his fingers inside you or all the filthy things he keeps whispering in your ear. It’s nothing short of a frenzy as you finally manage to get him free of his laces and guide him directly where you need him most.

He’s not your first by any means, but he’s definitely the biggest, and it takes a moment for you to adjust to his size. By then, the world around you could have been on fire and you wouldn’t have noticed anything but him. There is no orchestra playing, no music besides the sounds of his moans of pleasure as they mingle with yours, no thought but the two of you and how your bodies merge and join. 

That white hot pleasure keeps building tighter and tighter with every thrust of his cock inside you, and you steady yourself against the back of the couch, chests brushing as you fight to remain steady. His fingertips will certainly leave bruises on your hips with the way he holds you. 

You’re so close to the edge, dangling over the precipice, his name a prayer on your lips as he once again sinks his fangs into your neck for a taste. Release barrels through you as he moans into your bruised flesh, his own release not far behind as you slump exhausted against his chest.

“Holy shit,” you whimper, body trembling as you come down from your high.

Rhys strokes a gloved hand over your ruined hair as you catch your breath. “I was going to turn you tonight,” he hums, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But I think I want a few more rounds of that first.”

You huff a laugh into his chest. You don’t hate the idea. No part of your bargain said he had to turn you immediately. “Is that all vampires do? Feed and fuck?”

Violet eyes gleam playfully in the dark as he says, “Darling, you’ll have all eternity to find out.”

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Don't Wanna Miss A Thing

Complete fluff, tiny bit of angst but mainly cheesy fluff.

Originally this was going to be a vampire Eddie fic but I changed my mind halfway through writing, I hope you still enjoy ❤️

Lyrics from Aerosmith's I don't wanna miss a thing

💞

Eddie seeks out the sound of your heartbeat. It soothes him, reminds him that you're alive and that the horrors of the Upside Down are now over.

He lays beside you on his bed and rests his head on your chest, the tension of the day melts away and he listens to the steady beats of your heart.

When the final showdown occurred between Hawkins and The Upside Down, Eddie was sure he wouldn't survive, he had already cheated death once when he survived the demobats attack; there was no way he would be lucky this time.

By some miracle he did survive. It was you who nearly died, who had nearly been torn apart by a Demogorgon- it certainly did some damage before you and Nancy torched the fucker.

Then you were on the ground and barely moving, blood seeping through your shirt and your heartbeat was slow, too slow. A soft smile graced your features as Eddie held you and you whispered those three little words.

I love you. Words Eddie had been wanting to hear for weeks but never thought it could be possible, now they were a deathbed confession.

Things for you were touch and go for days as you were whisked away to some government hospital and Eddie was a panicked, anxious mess; not even his strongest weed helped calm his racing mind.

When you were at the hospital Eddie heard no news for days and resigned himself to the worst. However he promised himself that if you did pull through, then he wasn't going to hide how he felt, he would tell you that he loved you too.

It seemed like a hopeless dream at that point but then you did survive and Eddie didn't waste anymore time, he confessed his feelings and the two of you had been inseparable since.

Fuck, he could have lost you. Nightmares still plagued Eddie about how still you were or the blood all over your clothes...the sheer terror he felt when you whispered I love you then closed your eyes and said no more.

The only reason he knew you were alive is because El found a faint pulse.

Needless to say he never took for granted the fact that you survived, against all odds you were here sleeping soundly beside him, the soft sound of your breathing was like a balm to his chaotic thoughts.

He peers up at you smiling as he sees you're fast asleep, expression peaceful, a tiny smile on your face. Briefly Eddie wonders what you're dreaming of? He hopes it's of him; just dreams that are sweet and untroubled.

They had enough of trouble for a lifetime.

Eventually Eddie begins to feel tired, he leans up just for a moment to press soft kisses to your forehead, your eyes, nose and then your lips.

Nearly losing you and the thought of never seeing your beautiful face again, hearing your laughter or your voice had scared the shit out of Eddie. So every day he's with you he thanks his lucky stars that you're alive.

He never gets tired of memorising every little detail of you, listening intently to you and holding you as close as possible to him whenever he can.

Eddie intends to never miss a moment of your time together because he's lucky that you're still here and in his life.

And he doesn't want to miss a thing.

❤️

Lying close to you feeling your heart beating, and I wonder what you're dreaming, wondering if it's me you're seeing.

And then I kiss your eyes and thank god we're together and I just wanna stay with you in this moment forever.

Forever and ever

I don't wanna close my eyes, I don't wanna fall asleep. 'Cause I'd miss you baby

And I don't wanna miss a thing.

I don't wanna miss a thing- Aerosmith

[pininghermit]

Right Infront of My Salad?

Request: @dreamtogether2000 I was only doing it because I was curious but then I got Obsessed?! Please this with gn reader is everything I love! Go Buck Wild.

AN: First of all what a pick. Second of all, thank you for requesting this. I love writing crack fics especially this one was awesome. I hope you like it. We shall name this the Tropesvania Event- feel free to request

Genre: Fluff

Pairing(s): Adrian Tepes x GN Reader

Summary: Obsessed-gn-drabble

“They are, to put it mildly…” Lisa cringed, glancing into the camera, “obsessed with each other.”

“They’ve lost it. Whatever this is, it’s worse than anything unholy,” Dracula deadpanned, his tone dripping with the resignation of a centuries-old vampire.

Somehow, it had come to this: Dracula and Lisa, dragged onto Dr. Phil, seated stiffly next to their son, Adrian, and you. The root of the chaos.

Yet, the elephant in the room remained unaddressed. And riding triumphantly atop that elephant, entwined as if nothing else in the world existed, were Lisa and Dracula’s beloved son and you.

It had all started innocently enough, during the honeymoon phase of dating. At first, Lisa had found it endearing. Adrian gushing about you had been a breath of fresh air.

Every detail about your smile, your laugh, your favorite book had been recounted with an enthusiasm so pure it melted even Dracula’s icy heart.

Lisa had helped Adrian pick out the right outfits, thoughtful gifts, and conversation topics to avoid awkward silences. Dracula had joined in too, bemused by the adorable mess his son had become under the spell of young love.

Then, they met you.

From the moment of that first introduction, you had stormed into Castle Dracula like a burst of spring sunlight, your chaotic energy scattering the stoic gothic gloom.

Supper, once a quiet affair for three, transformed into a nightly event for four. The castle seemed warmer, brighter—alive. Though neither parent would admit it, there were moments they almost welcomed the change.

It was as if the wintery gloom of their home had been replace with fistfuls of spring shoved up ever nook of the castle.

But young love is nothing if not overwhelming.

Catching the two of you making out had been amusing at first, Dracula turning a delicate shade of crimson and retreating with an indignant swoosh of his cape.

But the charm wore thin quickly. After exactly twenty-three incidents of stumbling upon you in her lab, Lisa’s patience finally snapped.

And yet, here you were.

“I love you,” you giggled, nestled against Adrian, your hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate, the matching rings on your fingers glinting in the firelight.

Across the room, Lisa and Dracula watched from the couch, their expressions somewhere between weariness and acceptance, as Adrian’s face lit up to match yours. “I love you more,” he replied earnestly, leaning in closer.

“Noooo,” you drawled, sticking your tongue out at him playfully. “I love you more.”

Adrian pressed a kiss to your cheek, his golden eyes brimming with adoration. “I love you more than anything.”

Lisa saw Dracula’s face turn a distinct shade of green. Whether it was from the sweetness of the hot chocolate or the relentless PDA, she couldn’t say.

The count excused himself abruptly, clearing his throat as both parents caught sight of Adrian’s hand slipping under the blanket.

A single day. Adrian had been gone for one day to retrieve an ancient tome.

It had been an ordeal pulling him away, his golden eyes darting anxiously between you and the door as he nodded solemnly to your endless instructions about his health. To Lisa’s surprise, you had smiled and sent him off with a merry wave.

It unsettled both parents when you slammed the door shut immediately afterward only for your composure to crumble into pieces.

“I miss him,” you whimpered, staring forlornly at the cracks in the stone floor. “However shall I endure this?” you sobbed, burying your face in your arms.

For hours, you parked yourself by the door, refusing to move, before embarking on a grieving tour of the castle. Every room bore witness to your dramatic laments as you sprawled across tables, sighed mournfully in hallways, and flopped listlessly onto chairs.

Lisa and Dracula followed at a safe distance, watching in silent horror. By the end of the day, Lisa questioned her son’s doting nature, and Dracula could only mutter, “I'm too old for this Lisa.”

When Adrian finally returned, all hell broke loose.

You bolted toward him the moment the doors opened, nearly tripping over the carpet in your haste to reach him. Lisa and Dracula stood frozen in place, watching the soap opera that Castle Dracula had somehow become unfold before their eyes.

But it wasn’t the excessively affectionate reunion that left them speechless. It wasn’t even your tearful declarations of love or Adrian’s matching intensity.

It was the bold black ink scrawled across Adrian’s arm.

Your name. Permanently tattooed, proud and unashamed.

The sight left the family in stunned silence, each member processing the revelation in their own way.

For Lisa, it was an emotional breakdown, complete with head-in-hands groaning. For Dracula, it was a mental and spiritual crisis, punctuated by a mumbled, “By all the dark powers… what has he done?”

Meanwhile, the happy couple remained blissfully unaware of the chaos swirling around them, lost in a world that consisted of only each other.

Castle Dracula would never be the same again.

[padfootagain]

Only an Almost (XIV)

Chapter 14: Heartbreak

Hi! Here comes a new chapter!

Alright, buckle up! We’re up for a wild ride! We are reaching the heights of the angsty mess, from this chapter all the way to chapter 17. Is our girl going to be an asshole? Yes, I’m afraid she’s about to fuck up big time...

Apologies for all the damage that is about to be made in this chapter.

It’s also the first chapter I wrote for this fic! It all started with this mess…

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 3450

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

It was 11pm, which was early for a night owl such as Andrew, but late for his friends. Neither Sam nor Daphne were nocturnal creatures, and so Andrew answered his phone in a hurry when Sam’s name appeared on the screen. Something had to be wrong. He suddenly wondered where he had put his car keys, in case he needed to leave in a hurry.

“Hello? Andy? It’s me. It’s Sam.”

“Yeah, I know, are you alright?” he asked with worry making his voice deeper than usual, pausing the tv-show he was watching, lounging on his comfortable sofa.

“Yeah, yeah…”

“It’s 11pm, is there something wrong? Is Daphne okay?”

“What? Oh, no! Don’t worry, we’re both fine!”

Andrew heaved a relieved sigh.

“God, don’t scare the shit out of me like that ever again…”

“Did I wake you? I thought you never went to sleep before dawn.”

“Vampires tend to do that indeed.”

“Whose blood did you drink this week?”

Andrew wanted to answer, but he heard Daphne pestering Sam about not having much time, and he merely frowned instead.

“Right… sorry, darling…” Sam mumbled through the phone. “Are you alone, Andy?”

“Erm… yes…?”

“Okay, erm… it’s… it’s about Y/N.”

Andrew sat straighter this time.

“Y/N? Is she okay? Did something happen?”

“No, no… I mean… she’s fine, but…”

“For fuck’s sake, Sam! Spit it out! What’s going on?”

“Look I… I know that you said that I couldn’t tell Daphne about you and Y/N… but Y/N told her, so we’ve talked about you two together…”

Andrew rolled his eyes, lying back down, resting his head on the armrest of the couch.

“It’s alright, Sam… I knew you’d break it to her sooner or later anyway.”

“No, Andy… look… have you talked to Y/N lately?”

Andrew frowned.

“Erm… I don’t know… about… three days ago. Why?”

“I think you should talk to her.”

“Why? Sam, what is it?”

There was a short silence, while the couple exchanged a glance, no doubt.

“Daphne thinks she might take a terrible decision,” Sam answered.

“What kind of decision? What are you talking about?”

Andrew was growing annoyed at this game of riddles. If something was wrong, he ought to know what it was…

But even if he insisted some more, Sam refused to speak.

“Just… call her, and tell her you love her. Tell her to choose you.”

“’Choose’ me? What do you mean?”

“Just… do it tomorrow, will you?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“Good… good…”

When he hung up, Andrew stared at the ceiling for a while.

Choose me?

Andrew didn’t need to call you the next day. You were the one to call, and ask him if he was free tonight. You didn’t offer an activity, like you usually would: a movie on Netflix, the cinema, a walk, going to the beach, eating together… There was little ambiguity to the reason behind your demand, and Andrew wasn’t sure whether he was flattered or vexed by it.

He warned you that he wanted to talk to you about something tonight though, and you agreed. You had something to ‘discuss’ with him too. His heart dropped as you spoke those words through the phone. It ought to be some kind of bad news. Or maybe not. Maybe he was reading too much into this, and you meant… to talk about the upcoming wedding, or your job, or… something else entirely. He wondered if you knew that he meant to tell you that he felt more for you than what he had let on.

He parked his car in front of your house, but didn’t climb out just yet. First, he ran through his speech one last time.

I know that you are not looking for a relationship at the moment. But I want more than just sex when it comes to you. To us. Our arrangement can’t go on like this. Again, I understand that you are not in a position now where you want to be in a relationship. And that’s okay. If you tell me that you could give us a chance, I will wait for you. I’ll wait until you’re ready, until your job is more stable and you’ve figured things out in your life. I’ll wait until you want a relationship with me. I have feelings for you, feelings that go beyond a casual fling. And that’s the reason why I’m asking you now to give me a chance. To give us a proper chance…

No l-word yet, you might freak out if he used it. But this speech seemed good enough. Short, to the point. He had written six versions of it this morning.

He took a deep breath, before finally climbing out of his car and walking up to your house.

You were quick to unlock your door and welcome him in. You looked lovely tonight. But then, you were always beautiful…

You went through some meaningless chit-chat while Andrew took off his coat and shoes and followed you down the hall to your kitchen.

You offered him tea without asking if he wanted one. It was late afternoon, but not quite dinner time yet. He could have used some alcohol, but it would have been impolite to ask for some, so he thanked you when you handed him his favourite mug with two teabags plunged in warm water. He leaned against your kitchen counter, his back to your tiny window and your sink while you were facing him, a couple of steps away.

“You… you wanted us to talk about something,” Andrew reminded you, taking a sip of the warm beverage. “And I wanted to talk to you too, so… who should start?”

You were growing nervous, the signs were obvious. In your modern kitchen, there was a window above the sink that let in some golden light. The photons embraced your form, in a way that made Andrew’s heart skip a few beats.

You pushed back some hair behind your ear, pulled on the sleeves of your jumper. Andrew frowned at the sight.

“You’re alright? I can start…”

“No, I… I reckon I should start.”

“Okay.”

He was nervous beyond reason and measure. Andrew dried his clammy palms on his jeans, tried to breathe deeply through his nose, but his heart kept on pounding and his stomach was turning into knots…

You stared at each other for a moment, him expectant and you hesitant. He raised an eyebrow as a silent encouragement for you to speak, but you merely bit on your lower lip.

But then you heaved a sigh, crossed the distance between your bodies in a hurry. Andrew barely had time to blink, and you had grabbed him by the collar, pulling him down to you while you rose to your tiptoes so you could slam your lips to his. But kissing you was a habit by now, and a delicious one too. Andrew’s body was reacting on instinct as he kissed you back, messy and passionate and breathtaking. Your teeth bumped into his in your passion, but he didn’t mind. It was easy to deepen the kiss instead, cradle your face in his hands while you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, closer, always closer.

You were making his brain short-circuit, despite the important talk he wanted to have with you. You were everywhere, blurring his senses, making all traces of reason disappear…

Only when he felt your fingers travel down his chest and towards his belt did he stop you, pulling away.

“Wait, wait… stop…”

You immediately took a step back, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“You’re okay?”

“Yeah… yeah… I… look, we… We wanted to talk, like… I think we should, erm, talk before we…”

“Or we can have sex, and talk after that.”

“Is that wise?”

“Do we really need to be wise?”

It was tempting. Too tempting to resist. God, he couldn’t think about anything else but your lips, how inviting they looked, how he wanted to kiss your neck too, he could feel his fingers tickle at the thought of touching all these places of your body, entire landscapes of bare skin…

He blinked a couple of times, struggled to swallow, trying to calm down. But blood was pulsing in his ears, and when he tried to remember his carefully-crafted speech, he couldn’t remember a word…

Fuck all of this…

“Alright,” he nodded. “But we talk tonight… cause it’s important…”

“Deal. Deal. Can I kiss you now?”

“Yes… God, yes, please… please, kiss me…”

You were back in his arms in a second, hands in his hair at first, while his travelled along your frame, from chest to hips and arse, feeling your shape through your clothes. You detached your lips from his to take his hand and guide him to your bedroom.

“We should get dressed to talk,” Andrew proposed, his breathing finally settling back into a regular rhythm.

He threw his condom away in the tiny bean next to the door of your bathroom. He grabbed his underwear as he walked back to your bed and handed you your large jumper.

“You’re too beautiful not to be distracting,” he chuckled, only half-joking, while you put on the piece of garment he was giving you.

He noticed how you looked away, how you seemed uncomfortable, all of a sudden. Instead of joining you in bed once more, Andrew sat down on the edge of the mattress, right next to you.

“So… who should begin?” he asked, voice soft and a little timid. “I… like… actually, I think I should…”

“Andy, I… I think you should get dressed.”

He frowned at that remark, or rather… he frowned at the tone you used. Cold and distant, whispered, and your eyes were still fleeing his.

“Why? Am I distracting too?” he asked with a charming smile, forcing a chuckle out. But you didn’t laugh, merely brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Andrew’s nervous smile soon crumbled.

“Right,” he let out in a breath, blushing hard now, heart racing.

He grabbed his undershirt, slowly put it on while trying to swallow back the lump in his throat.

“Look, I… We should talk about… this arrangement of ours…” he started, but you interrupted him, blurting out words he wasn’t expecting so fast he second-guessed if he had heard you right.

“We need to stop sleeping together.”

He was half-bent to grab his pants when you spoke. He froze, looking up at you, cursing at his long hair when it fell before his eyes and hid you away. He stood back up in a jolt.

“What?”

“We… we need to stop this arrangement. Things have changed.”

And all of a sudden there was hope again, brighter than a sun and blinding every bit of reason in him… And he fell for it. No matter the odds, he fell for it, flew straight to it like a moth ready to be burned at the pyre of your flames…

“Right… things have changed for me too. So, actually, I do think that we need to change things between us…”

“I have a date next week.”

He froze again. Stared at you, too stunned to say a thing, too stunned to protest or ask any question or even comprehend what you were saying.

“I… I have a date with a coworker, Maggie. Next week. So… we should stop this… We said we would if we wanted to try something with someone else…”

A date? Next week? Maggie?

You… you wanted to date again… just… not him…

“But… we’ve just had sex,” breathed Andrew.

It sounded stupid and he knew it, and yet these were the only words he could summon now. The first that came to mind, the only protest he could find.

There were too many emotions all at once. It felt… like falling… falling forever… like the ground being stolen from under his feet. He had no air left in his lungs, and he had forgotten how to breathe.

“Yeah… it wasn’t planned. But I… I just… Maybe I shouldn’t have done that…”

His lip trembled, but his cheeks were still dry.

You were regretting him now?

“I think I just… wanted one last moment with you. Before we’d stop and I would date someone else.”

“So… you… you have a date?”

“Yes, I have a date with Maggie.”

“What do you mean, you have a date with Maggie? Who the fuck is Maggie?”

Andrew stared at you as he was about to cry, and he couldn’t help it. He blinked tears away, but they lingered at the edges of his eyes, ready to fall at your words.

“She’s nice. She works at HR, she’s a secretary. She asked me out, and… I don’t know, I said yes. So… I think we should stop this arrangement.”

“Oh…”

At long last, the information was being recorded in his brain. Andrew shook himself back to earth, turned around, fleeing you and your beautiful eyes, hurrying to put his trousers back on. He almost fell in the process, already looking for his shirt. He felt so exposed like this, so vulnerable, so flawed…

You were going on a date… with someone else… because you didn’t want to date him… he was the fucking problem. He was all along…

“I just… it was… good.”

He nodded, but didn’t let out a sound.

He couldn’t look at you. He would start crying if he did. He needed to run away as fast as he could…

“And she’s nice, you know? And… just… easy. Not like, easy to sleep with, but…”

“I understand.”

Of course, he did. Same argument all over again. And he couldn’t blame you, how could he?

But what if he dropped everything? What if he stopped touring? Stopped the whole music thing?

He thought about what you looked like right now, perfect and dishevelled and still gently glowing after the efforts of love-making. Absolutely perfect. Yeah… yeah… You deserved better than him, no matter the touring or the staying…

“Andy… are you angry?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t start acknowledging his feelings now. He would start crying if he did.

Where the fuck was his sock?

“I loved the nights we had together,” you went on, apparently unaware of the daggers each of your words planted through his heart, and for the first time in the long years the two of you had known each other, he wanted to stop hearing your voice.

You seemed to need to fill up the silence that Andrew was trying to maintain. Perhaps it was a way to reach out, perhaps it was a way to keep him at bay. He wasn’t certain about that.

“It was nice.”

Where was that fucking sock?!

“Andy?”

He put on his jumper, abandoning the thought of his black sock. He couldn’t lose any more time, he couldn’t breathe properly anymore…

“You’re okay? Can you say something?”

Silence. Only the rubbing of fabric against fabric as Andrew was getting ready to leave. He only had to grab his shoes and jacket in your hallway.

“Andy, wait!”

But he was already outside of your bedroom.

“You can’t be mad at me! We agreed about this, Andy! We agreed that… that… this was nothing but sex! It didn’t mean anything.”

He was blinded by tears when he reached for your doorknob, unlocking the door without seeing the keys he was turning in the lock.

“Andy! Where are you going? Stop! We need to talk about this!”

He shrugged you off when you reached for him.

“Andy!”

But then he was shutting the door behind him, his movement so harsh it shook the doorframe. He hurried to his car while he dried his eyes, refusing to crumble now, in the alley leading to your house.

He drove blindly, unaware of a destination, of a will behind the turns he took and the roads he chose. The words kept ringing in his ears, he couldn’t shut them out, they played on repeat in his busy mind…

This was nothing but sex.

It didn’t mean anything.

Did it not? The way you touched him, the way you kissed him, the way you held him… did it not mean something?!

His hold tightened on the wheel. His jaw clenched until it was painful, until he could hear it.

Nothing. The tenderness in your touch, the fondness in your gaze, the sighs on your lips. The way you held him after it was done, like you needed him to land again gently on the ground, like you held onto a dream before it faded. How you stared into his soul when you connected in the most intimate way possible. How you laughed together until none of you could breathe, how you talked for hours about the most meaningless things and the most intimate parts of your lives. How you let him be yours, how you almost let yourself be his…

Only an almost…

He parked the car before a house he had always called home, and it was only then that he realised where he was. He stared at the familiar door of his parents’ house, the curtains behind the windows, the light that came through them.

So, you had let him love you, and it meant nothing at all?

He turned off the engines, stared at the house for a suspended moment. What would he do now? He couldn’t possibly face you again after this. He was about to lose you for good; because after having a taste of what loving you felt like, he couldn’t go back to being a mere friend. No… no, he wasn’t strong enough for that. For seeing you happy with someone else, knowing that you held him close for a moment only to let him go, because he wasn’t enough.

He picked up his phone, ready to do something stupid, something he would regret the second his thumb would press send. He typed the text under your name.

If I gave up on touring, if I stayed home… would you give me a chance? Would I be enough if I weren’t just a ghost?

He heaved a sigh, resting his head against his seat, head tilted upwards in his exhale. He blinked tears away, staring at the dark ceiling of his car.

Did you really feel nothing now? Did it not hurt at all for you? Not even a little bit? Not at all?

Andrew didn’t press send. He deleted the text, opened the door, climbed out of the car and into the street bathed in an inky darkness and orange streetlights. His feet guided him to the safest place on Earth while he tugged his phone into his pocket. His right foot was hurting in his shoe without a sock on. He didn’t even notice.

It took his mother a moment to open the door, nothing surprising at this hour. She saw him through the glass of the backdoor, and her eyes grew round. Andrew finally noticed he was crying.

The door opened in a hurry, bumping into Raine’s foot in the process.

“Andy? Honey, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

His lower lip trembled as he stared at his mother, hands digging further into his pockets, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His throat was too tight to speak.

“Honey, what’s wrong? Tell me. Tell me what’s wrong?”

She narrowed her eyes a little as she guessed, aiming straight for his heart.

“Is it Y/N?”

He opened his mouth to answer but all that he could let out was a sob. His legs were shaking, he could feel all of his strength leaving his body. He barely registered his own moevements as he bent into his mother’s arms, folding around her frame.

“Oh, Andy… here, it’s alright. It’s gonna be okay, darling. It’s okay. I’m here, I’m here…”

She rubbed his back, in this soothing movement that had never failed to appease him ever since he was a child. His voice was a hoarse whisper when he let out the most painful words he had ever pronounced.

“She doesn’t love me, mom. She doesn’t feel anything… What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do without her?”

She let him cry for a moment longer, his father calling from the living room to know who was at the door. Raine merely answered with her son’s name, and gently pushed him upwards so he would stand straighter again.

“Well, for a start, I’m going to make you a cup of tea, with a lot of honey. And then, we’ll figure out the rest.”

[fashionteahouse]

hiii could you do paul x reader

soooo reader is bella's older sister and paul is imprinted on her

Reader knows about bella decision of turned into vampire after her graduation and reader get into a bad depression and her mental ill went too bad cuz she loves her sister too much and doesn't want her to be a monster

and paul with the other pack trying to help her to be better

btw i'm gonna call myself 🥑anon so you can recognise mee😘😘😘

Thank you for your hard work you always do the bestt fics 💖💖💖💖

I've requested alot before and you always ATEEEE thaatt

heyy 🥑anon 💜 thanks so much for supporting my fics so this really means a whole lot !! hope you enjoy :)

my sister says the saddest things - paul x reader

A hand was splayed out, watching the light of the diamonds bounce around in the room. A smile was thrown your way as you watched your little sister admire her ring.

A tight smile was all you could give her. The ring surely was beautiful. However, it didn’t stop you from furrowing your eyebrows. You move your laptop out of the way as you sit up straighter.

“I thought you didn’t like the idea of marriage?” you question her.

She shrugs as she continues to stare at it, “We had to compromise.” she answers quietly.

“What?” you ask, wanting to know what it was, opening your ears so the words from her mouth could be clear.

“He…If I marry him, he’ll change me.” she rushes out but not meeting your gaze.

Standing up slowly, “What?” you knew your sister was smarter than this.

“Why?” you ask, not angrily but in a disappointed tone.

“We will be with each other forever. I don’t want to grow old and Edward still looks the same.” she tells you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You look elsewhere as you pace a bit. Bella blows out a breath, as you ask quietly, “So..He’s going to do it exactly when?”

“After graduation.”

“Bella you’ve got to be kidding me.” you say to her as she looks down, “Are you serious?” you ask her again.

“I will still be me. It’s not like I’m going to change and become a different person.” She says to plead her case.

“Yes you will. You will be a cold one. A monster.” you say to her, gritting a bit.

“I will not! You don’t have to use those words.”

“What other words can I call that? Seriously. Sure, you’ll live forever but the moment that venom enters your blood stream I will lose you forever. What about mom? What about dad?” you say and continue to pace.

“I will still keep in contact. That’s why you don’t have to worry.” she says, not even thinking about changing her mind.

“You’re altering your life for some boy. A boy who isn’t even a boy but 119 years old! Come on, think!” you tell her, trying to keep your voice from pitching since Charlie was only downstairs in the living room.

“He’s not some boy and you know that. He’s my soulmate just like Paul is yours.” she says, taking a bit of offense.

“I don’t know. Soulmates don’t dump you in the middle of the woods. Soulmates don’t leave you for months on end and claim it’s to ‘protect you’ ” you say as you form quotation marks with your fingers.

Bella stands and narrows her eyes at you, “Wow.” she says and just leaves out of your room, not bothering to close the door back. You move to the door and push to slam it. A frustrated sigh moves past your lips as tears start to prickle.

Being a vampire wasn’t normal. Sure being a shapeshifter wasn’t exactly normal either but at least they still had a heart beat that thumps. They didn’t have to die to transform.

There was still months of school left. You were in your freshman year of community college while she was still in her last year of high school. It made you sad that you didn’t want the school year to end. You hoped and prayed that it would drag on just so you could still be around your living and breathing sister.

At breakfast, things were a bit tense. You kept staring at her and Bella kept staring at you. Charlie noticed as he set his coffee cup down and clears his throat.

“You girls alright?” he asked.

Bella doesn’t say anything but you broke the silence by getting up, “See you dad, I’m going to be late.” you tell him and push in your chair.

You didn’t bother to say goodbye to Bella, at that moment, goodbye meant forever.

You didn’t have a lot of classes this day, but after them, you camped out on the campus library. Deciding to do your homework there instead of home like you always do. You received a text from your little sister.

“Not hanging out with Edward today. Dad is working a double today. Want to just grab something ?”

“I’m okay. I’m going to study instead”

You finish typing back.

Any other time she hung with Edward after school, but you knew she wanted to make things right. You didn’t know how she could even let such thought cross her mind. You felt a dark cloud over yourself, loom as you tried to focus on your work.

Your shoulders were slumped as you listened to Paul’s voice on the phone later that night. His words didn’t process through your brain as your brain was already stuffed on how life would like for you and your sister in the future.

The sister who was cooped up in her room, knowing Edward snuck in through the window.

“Hello?” you hear Paul say into the line.

“Yes?” you say snapping out of your thoughts.

“Did you hear what I said?” Paul asks you.

He didn’t give you any hints as you say, “Um…you were talking about….I don’t know.” You finally say, defeated to give an answer.

“What were you doing?” He asks.

You rub your tired eyes, “Was just thinking about something. Sorry. Can you repeat what you said?”

“Emily’s. Are you coming tomorrow?” he asked again.

The brain inside of your noggin was flashing a trailer of feelings of how you would feel around a gathering of people. You just didn’t have it in you.

“No. I’m uh…I have a lot of work to do.” you tell him.

“You just told me you did your homework.” he plainly says, catching you red handed in a lie.

“Well, I will have homework tomorrow.” you say in a cruelty tone , taking your frustrations out on him and hang up.

Tossing the phone away from you on the other side of the bed, you put your head into your hands. You then scowl at your door.

You just kept thinking about how unfair it was for Edward to agree to do such a thing to Bella. It was like they both didn’t think or care about you or the family you and Bella came from.

You placed a pillow over your eyes, trying your best to wait for the day to pass.

The days passed slowly, your body losing the motivation to rise up out of bed. Missing classes, you just didn’t have it in you to care.

A soft but cautious knock was on your bedroom door. Your cheek was on your pillow. You didn’t have the energy to open your mouth to speak so you let the person behind your door to decipher which answer you would give.

Choosing the ‘come in’ option, your door slowly opens as you hear a meek voice speak, “Are you okay?”

You roll your eyes a bit as your head didn’t face the door. You continue to stare out of the window that faced the bed that you were currently in.

You felt a dip near your covered feet with a hand on your shoulder.

“I made you dinner.” Bella tells you.

You close your eyes and sigh, “I’m not hungry.”

The thought of food didn’t appeal to you. In fact, it made your stomach churn.

“You think people aren’t noticing but I do. You barely ate in days.” Bella calls out. You finally face her. She shakes her head as her eyes travel your face.

“And you look horrible. Whatever’s going on, we can talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” you tell her listlessly.

“Yes, there is. You’ve been blowing the pack off too. I’m tired of lying for you.” she says.

Throwing the covers off of you, you sit up. “You don’t have to lie for me.”

“Well, you’ve been acting like this since I told you about…you know.” she says.

You cross your arms and glare at a spot on your bedroom wall past her head.

“Come on, Y/N. I know you’re thinking about the worst possible outcome but it will be okay. I promise.” she tried to smoothly say but your face contort into a sorrow look as your lips tremble.

Your hand flies to your face as tears roll down your cheeks. There’s a lot that could happen.

“Please don’t cry. You’ll make me cry.” Bella says as she moves in to hug you.

“Bella just stop. You’re making things worse.” you tell her irritated, pushing her away.

“How?” she asks, feeling the unfairness.

“What do you mean how? You want me to be happy for you? Happy that you’re becoming the enemy.”

“There is no enemy. I will still be your sister. You know that the Cullens have a vegetarian diet so that’s what I will of course will fall into. It’s not like I’m going to be murdering people like the bad ones.”

“Two wings on the same bird, Bella.” you darkly say. You lay back down and turn away from her.

Bella sighs as she looks down. There was nothing else for her to say. However, she didn’t want to leave so soon. She felt it was important you two come to an understanding at least.

“Well, will you at least call Paul?” she asks. She waits for an answer but she doesn’t receive one.

You would, but your phone is dead. You didn’t feel like putting in the energy into charging it.

She sighs again and gives you the privacy that you wanted granted. You were glad that she finally left. The silent tears rolled down again, you didn’t have to worry about someone stopping you from crying.

You grudgingly walk out of your campus, with the goal being getting coffee at a nearby coffee shop.

You hear Paul’s voice as your hand was on the glass door. You turn and see his face, raking over you to see what to think about the sight in front of him.

“What’s going on?” he says, tugging you to him, away from the shop. He smushed your body to his. In a way you did feel a bit better, being around him and in his arms.

“Hm?” he asks as he noticed you haven’t said again.

You try to find the right words as he patiently waited. You sigh, before looking to him, “My sister says the saddest things.” you tell him choking up and this makes him pull you back to him again. You bury your face into his chest to hide the tears that threatened to fall.

“Do you want to talk about it? I’m here if you want to talk.” He offers as you nod after a moment. He takes both thumbs to wipe your hot, salty tears away.

As you sip your hot beverage, Paul decides to speak after moments of processing all that you word vomited to him.

“If you tried talking to her and she’s still being set on it, it might just be out of your hands.” he carefully says. He hasn’t taken a drink of his own beverage. His arms were folded and his face was deep in thought.

”There’s no positivity about this. Why would she trade in her beautiful natural life for something so bleak and dangerous?”

Paul plays a bit with his cup as he looked not directly at you, but at a spot in front of you on the table.

“You have to look at it as, she’s 18. If that’s what she chooses, it’s her choice.” he says.

“I feel like I failed to protect her.”

“You did the best you could. I’m sure you did. But, it’s the life she chose. It’s out of your hands.” He says and you push your cup away.

You wrap your arms around your waist, your mind starts to think about having to accept the reality of your sister’s life.

He places a warm hand on yours, covering it completely before picking it up and keeping your hand in both of his hands.

“What would you do? If it was your sister I mean.” you ask him and he thinks for a moment.

“Of course I would be pissed off but… I would want her to be happy. It seems like Bella wouldn’t cut you out of your life.”

You hoped what he was saying was true. He looks at your hand that’s being covered by both of his, “You don’t have to shut me or the pack out you know?”

You nod, looking down.

“I’m sorry. I will make them something to extend my apologies.” You knew they went crazy for your baked treats.

Going home, you receive a call from Leah. You answer even though your phone was low on battery.

“You went AWOL. That’s so rude.” she says instead of a hello.

You tiredly laugh, “I’m sorry. I’ve just been…” you look to the side and sigh in disparity. There wasn’t much words that could explain how you’re feeling.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Uh-“

“Exactly. Nothing. So, me and Kim will pick you up tomorrow okay?” Leah tells you and ends it with that.

As you cut the excess dough from a pie that you were making, Bella comes home. She placed her keys on the hook by the front door.

“It smells good.” Bella says grinning as she steps into the kitchen, where you were.

The lit oven showed two other pies that were currently baking. Bella was glad was that you weren’t rotting in bed. She stands next to your work station as she looks over what you have done so far.

“Do you need any help?” Bella asks.

“I got it.” you tell her.

“Are you still mad?” Bella asks you.

“No, I’m not mad.” your shoulders fall and a moment passes , “You won’t be able to eat this stuff soon.” you say in an emotional manner. The clatter of the scissors rattle on the countertop from your hands not being able to hold them anymore. She pulls you into a tight bear hug, Her forearm around the nape of your neck as she held you close.

“Please Bella. Just, please.” you pleaded through a fat sob.

Bella herself was getting emotional. Her big sister was someone she idolized and looked up to. She was very strong in her eyes and to see her break down, made her want to break down as well.

“Everything will be okay.” Bella whispers but you step out of the hug.

“Really? That’s all you can say?”

“I will be happy. I love him, sissy. If it was the other way around, I would want you to be selfish for your own happiness too. Look, ” she says before looking down, “He didn’t want to change me. I insisted him on doing so. He then told me to marry him. We’re both doing something we don’t want to do but we’re doing it because of the love we have for each other. This wasn’t some split second decision.”

You just stare at her, “Are you sure this isn’t about when you went to Italy?”

Silence fell into the air. Bella’s hand nervously run through her hair, “It’s only part of it. I have time but I want to do it after graduation.”

“So just wait then.” you say quietly pleading.

“Alice already had a vision I would be turned.” she whines, not wanting to reconsider her chosen time frame.

“Fuck, Bella. Forever is a long time. You mean to tell me you can’t wait for that little bit of time?”

“I will be older than Edward.” she counters back. Her eyes in horror at such thought.

“You never was like this about age.” you say shaking your head. You then move to the hot oven, covering your hands to take out two hot desserts.

“Are you going to La Push?” she asks.

“Yeah. Leah is picking me up.”

“I can take you. I want to see Jake anyways.” she offers.

“I want to go alone.” you snap to her.

Hurt was displayed on her face but she understood. Leaving you alone in the kitchen as you placed the last pie in the oven to bake.

“You don’t have to chew with your mouth open. It’s disgusting.” you tell Jared, trying to fight a smile.

“Maybe you should disappear more often. If this is an apology, I will accept every time.” he says.

Paul walks past, thumping him at the back of his head before sitting next to you. This brings out a snort that you tried to hide.

“What was that for?” Jared asks, rubbing his head.

“For opening your mouth.” Paul says and drinks his drink.

Leah then comes and pull you up and away from your spot from Paul. She wraps an arm around your shoulders and ask you in an intimate matter as you both move to where people weren’t hovering around.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“I think I will be.” you say.

“Just don’t beat yourself up over it. You still have to live your own life too.”

You nod.

“We can’t kill them because of the treaty. You know this.”

You nod again.

“Plus, what did you realistically think was going to happen once she fell in love with one. She would want to fall into their lifestyle.”

“You don’t see me asking to be a shapeshifter.” you say, looking at Leah’s beautiful face. She displays her teeth as she laughs.

“It’s not possible.”

“Yeah, but if it was, I wouldn’t ask Paul to make me into one.”

This is Leah’s turn to nod. “We can’t really say unless we're really in that type of predicament.”

Embry walks past the corner you and Leah were occupying.

“Wow, cheating on Paul? That’s rich of you.” he says jokingly as he sees you two hugging each other tight.

“Would you shut the hell up?” Leah barks at him, making you bubble out a laugh.

Leah goes to shoo him away and you stay back and lean your back against the wall. You cross your arms and think. Hoping that your little sister will be happy, you couldn’t help but think about how you would grow old and would have to look at her youthful face for the rest of your limited life. Limited. There was no point in fighting or falling out with the only sister you had just because you disapproved her lifestyle choice.

Sighing, you realized that you still love your sister deeply. With your mind made up, you decided to make the most spending time with her before her human life comes to a halt. Just like you found your family, she found hers.

[f1nalboys]

Reunion - Frank (Adam Barrett)

Frank x Fem!AFAB!Reader

hiiiii guys >:)) i promise ill get to requests soon!!!!! i just was mentally being attacked by this freak and Needed to write something super quick for him!!!! lmk if anything is ooc for him, i did my darndest writing for him!!!! i hope u all enjoy and lmk if youre interested in me writing more for him!!!! ALSO!! i know his real name is adam but to make it easier for myself i just called him frank in the fic, lmk if u guys prefer that or using his actual name 😝 <3

WORD COUNT: 3190

WARNINGS: nsfw, vampire!frank, human!reader, oral (afab + amab recieving,) choking (to the point of nearly passing out), biting, slight blood play, slightest bit of scent play??, degradation and praise, handcuffs, restraints, face fucking, multiple orgasms (afab,) creampie, this was meant to be short and then i was attacked...., pain play, mating press, implication of more sex, brief mentions/threats of being fucked until you pass out but you are fully concious the entire time, proofread but u guys know me by now

Frank tilts his head, tongue gliding across razor sharp teeth, a sinister grin gracing his normally soft features. You watch him from your spot on the bed, handcuffs tight around both your wrists and the bedframe. Tugging at the restraints, you wince as the cool metal digs into your warm flesh, squirming when you feel Frank's gaze finally land on you. 

“Keep struggling and you’re gonna make yourself bleed.” Frank grins, the bed shifting with his weight as he sits down beside you. He’s still fully clothed, a far cry from your bare skin still covered in healed-over bite marks and a layer of sweat. He leans in, hand trailing up your stomach lightly, too lightly to feel good, his nose brushing against your wrist. Frank breathes in deeply and you watch as his eyes roll into the back of his head. “Fuck. Y’know what? Keep doing it. I want you to bleed.”

You whine, shaking your head. “Frank, c’mon, please!” 

“C’mon, please,” Frank mimics, fake pouting. You stay silent. When he was like this, all sharp teeth and sharp tongue, it was better to take whatever he was going to give you. A fight wouldn’t stop that. His hand trails up your chest, fingers calloused and rough, before landing on the base of your throat. His grip is loose, for now. “You always been this damn whiney or did this vampire shit give me better hearing?”

You swallow heavily. “I’m sorry.” You squeak and he grins, shaking his head. His hand grips your throat a bit tighter, feeling your pulse pumping heavily under his fingers. You watch his face as his eyes close. His breathing, which you learned he had to pretend to do after getting turned, matches your own. He stays like this a while, feeling your heart beat and the air fill and leave your lungs, feeling the humanity and life pump through your body on instinct. 

Frank didn’t miss many things about being human. He was stronger, faster, more agile, smarter, more ruthless, and so fucking powerful it could make your head spin. The things he didn't have anymore he could, for the most part, recreate it well enough. Breathing was now a conscious decision, one he only did when around other people. The sunlight thing didn’t bother him, only resulted in him moving to a city where the nightlife was more important than the daytime. The bloodlust was easy to satiate with his job. 

The one thing that he couldn't ignore or replicate, however, was a heartbeat. 

His chest felt empty, a dead thing lying there doing nothing but rotting away, maggots and fungi eating away at the carcass that was his humanity. On occasion, he’d find himself laying down, eyes closed, hand over his heart, imagining the thump of it, vibrating his chest, telling him and anyone who touched him that he was something, that he was alive. Your heartbeat was the closest thing to his own he could get to anymore. Frank loved to hear it quicken, skip a beat, change in its normal soothing rhythm, all due to him. Him and his hands, his tongue, his teeth, his words. 

Him.

Frank’s eyes open again, blue eyes dark, and he sighs, letting go of your throat. “Spread your legs.” His voice leaves no room for argument and you listen, your face growing hot from embarrassment at the wolf whistle he lets out. “So fuckin’ sexy, you know that? S’why I keep comin’ back.” He murmurs, leaning over and kissing you roughly. 

It’s too much, but everything Frank did was too much; he sprayed cologne until you felt like you were suffocating, he kissed you until your lips were bruised, he went down on you until you couldn't remember your name, he killed until he was covered in blood, he betrayed anyone and everyone who was dumb enough to trust him. Everyone but you. The only person he had stayed (mostly) gentle with, loyal too, was you.

Sure, he wouldn’t ever call himself your boyfriend, but he’d kill any guy you talked to and leave their decapitated head on your doorstep, fucking you into your mattress till you couldn't walk, and tell you that you were his. For now, that was enough.

Frank kisses down your neck, sharp teeth nicking at the thin flesh, a low moan being pulled from your lips. He loved the noises you made, could get drunk off them, could pull them from you for hours, and he has. “I need you,” you whimper as his mouth latches onto your nipple, his warm tongue flicking over the hardening nub. He hums around it but doesn’t stop. You can feel him relax over top of you, his free hand squeezing at your other tit, the days stress melting away. “Please?” 

“I’m takin’ my time.” Frank says, narrowed eyes flicking up to meet your own, but he lets go of your nipple, sliding down the length of the bed. “Bet you’re fuckin’ soaked though, aren’t you? That’s why you’re begging me.” You can’t deny it even if you wanted to because his hand is cupping your cunt, thick finger prodding at your slick opening to see, and you’re moaning so loud you know your throat is going to be sore tomorrow. “Fuck, you are. Guess it has been a bit, hasn’t it? Missed me or something, sweetheart?”

“Missed your cock.”

“Just my cock?” He asks, rubbing your wetness on your clit, a shiver going down your spine. “Not my fingers? The ones on your sloppy fuckin’ pussy right now, you didn’t miss them?” He asks, a smug fucking grin on his face, his fingers moving expertly against you. “Not my mouth? Bet your pussy misses my mouth. Shit, last time we fucked you didn’t seem very happy when I stopped tongue fucking you, so what changed, huh?”

His voice is sharp, working himself up the more he talks, his eyes focused on yours. He loves the microexpressions you make when you’re trying to hold back; the furrow of your eyebrows, the twitch of your lips, the flare of your nostrils. It's so incredibly human, so incredibly sexy, he wants nothing more than to bite into your neck and drain you, keep you inside him forever. But, he can’t. He’d miss you. Instead, he slips two fingers inside your hole, the stretch making you gasp, eyes widening, heartbeat picking up. “O-okay, okay…missed you.” 

“Yeah, you fuckin’ did.” He says, sliding down the rest of the bed, strong hands on your thighs, tongue swiping across your clit. Your legs try to close, your back arching off the soft mattress, the clang of the handcuffs bringing a smile to his face. Frank moans against your cunt, his fingers massaging your thighs as he enjoys himself. 

You want to touch him, to run your fingers through his hair and tug, bringing him closer, but these damn handcuffs keep digging into your wrists and it hurts and his fingers won’t stop pumping and scissoring inside your cunt and his lips are wrapping around your clit and he’s sucking and suddenly you can’t think of anything as you cum. Your legs shake and your eyes roll into the back of your head and all Frank can do is laugh against you as he draws it out. 

“S-stop, hang on,” you stutter after what felt like hours, your body going limp. Frank listens for once, moving his face off of your cunt but he leaves his fingers inside you, curling them just to pull a whine from your throat. You watch as he runs his tongue over his teeth and lips, tasting you, cracking his neck to stop himself from bending you in half and shoving his cock inside you. It’s been a while, almost two weeks, and he wants to savor this. Or, he wants to try. Self control has never been his strong suit. “Can you take the handcuffs off?” 

“They hurt?”

“A little.”

“Not yet.” Frank crawls over top of you, pressing his lips to yours. He’s gentle now, but you know he’s holding back. Despite how rough he gets with you, he’s always holding back from the primal urge to rip you to shreds. When he pulls away, he moves forwards even more, his knees just under your armpits. You stare up at him and he knows you’re nervous. His smile is gone, his eyes dark as he works on undoing his belt. “I’ll take ‘em off you real soon baby. I just need you to earn it first.” 

You swallow heavily, your heartbeat spiking as you watch him take his belt off. He tosses it to the side, unbuttoning his pants and shoving them down to his thighs. His pants rub against your bare chest, scratching you, but you can’t be bothered to care, not with the way your mouth was filling with saliva at the sight of his bulge. Frank laughs as you try to sit back onto your elbows, an annoyed whine stuck in your throat, and he pulls his underwear down, sighing as his cock springs free.

His cock is hard and he strokes it slowly, just out of reach. “Fuckin’ look at you… you ain’t embarrassed acting like this?” He asks, clenching his jaw to keep from moaning at the sight of you. You didn’t know it, or, at least, he hoped you didn’t, but he was addicted to every fucking thing you did. Your voice, your facial expressions, your movements, your back talk, your anger, your sadness; he was obsessed with it all. It was all for him, even when you were alone. 

Smiling slightly, you shake your head no. “Were you embarrassed eating me out?” You counter and he smirks, rolling his eyes slightly before leaning his hips forward, the tip of his cock brushing against your lips. Your mouth opens, your eyes laser focused on his dick. Frank teases you, rubbing his cock across your wet tongue.

“Mmm, fuck, I wasn’t,” he answers, tilting his head as he watches you strain your head forwards in an attempt to take him into your mouth. “But I wasn’t doing that.” You roll your eyes and look up at him, doing your best to look doe-eyed. His eyes narrow; he knew what you were doing, and he knew it would work. “So slutty, aren’t you, sweetheart? All for my cock.” As he talks, his voice low, he uses his hand to press his cock against your cheek, thrusting shallowly. His precum smears across your cheeks and you moan softly, your tongue rolling out of your mouth to slide against his shaft as he does so.

Finally, Frank pushes his cock down your throat. He does so slowly, hissing as he savors the heat of your mouth as your lips wrap around him. Your eyes close and you hum, enjoying the weight of his cock on your tongue. His cock was perfect for you; long, thick, and curved upwards, it always filled you to the brim, hitting that spot inside you to make your eyes roll into the back of your skull. 

“There you go, Y/N,” he grunts, his hips flexing. The rhythm he sets is slow and deep, making you gag each time and giving you enough time to recover before he repeats it. “Fuck, your mouth is so good, you know that? Just wanna, fuck,” his hand comes to rest on the headboard behind you, leaning over your head, plunging his cock deeper into your mouth. You hear the metal headboard creak and you know the grip he has on it is nearly enough to break it. “Just wanna fucking shove it down your throat till you pass out.” 

You gurgle around his cock, heart jumping at the thought, and he grins. “You want that, slut? Huh? Missed me so fuckin’ bad you want me to fuck your tight little throat? Make you take it even after you’re fuckin’ knocked out, using you like my own little fuck toy, my little puppet to do whatever I want with?” His thrusts get harder, deeper, and now you really are finding it hard to breathe, but you don’t want him to stop. Not yet. You have no way to stop him even if you did, and the realization is almost enough to send you into a panic. But you know Frank. He knew your body better than you did, knew what you could handle and what you couldn’t, knew what would make you cry in pain or pleasure; you were safe with him, even if he was bruising your throat. 

The edge of your vision begins to blur, the lack of oxygen making your head spin, and right when you swear you’re about to pass out, your tugging at the handcuffs finally stopping, he pulls out. You suck in a harsh breath, sputtering and coughing, not registering as Frank gets off the bed and kicks his pants the rest of the way off. It’s only when you feel his hands pressing your knees to your chest that you realize what he’s about to do. “Wait!”

“What?” He grumbles, swiping his cock through your folds, focused on the way you coat the tip. “Don’t tell me you don’t wanna fuck… that’ll be cruel...” You respond by tugging at the handcuffs again, clanging them against the bed frame, and he nods, tsking, a grin on his face. “Ah, right, right. Forgot about that. My bad, baby.” 

He grabs the key from his pants pocket, wetting his bottom lip as he unlocks them, tossing the handcuffs and keys to the side. Your wrists are raw, a few droplets of blood bubbling up along the skin. “You made me bleed.” You say softly, no venom in your voice. He grabs your hand gently, bringing it to his mouth before he licks the cut. It tickles.

“Fuck, your blood…” Frank says, giving you a look you can’t quite place before he’s back at the task at hand. Your knees are pushed to your chest, your hands positioned to hold them back as far as you could, and before you know it his cock is bullying its way into your hole. “So fucking tight.” He grunts as he sets a brutal pace, each noise of pain you make only fueling him onward. 

He doesn’t ever want to hurt you, but it’s hard not to when you sound and feel and taste so fucking good when he does.

“My cock too much?” He leans over your body as he fucks you, using his weight to keep your legs trapped above his shoulders. Frank's face hovers above yours, his eyes locked onto every twist of your face. “Too fuckin’ big, too fuckin’ thick, it hurts, Frank.” He mocks, emphasizing each word with a sharp thrust. Your arms, now free from the restraints, wrap around his shoulders tightly. “Too fuckin; much but you don’t want me to stop, fuck, ain’t that right?”

“Yes! Yes, fuck, don’t stop, please!” You cry out, the pain of being stretched out finally beginning to melt away into toe curling pleasure. The fire in your stomach is burning white hot, his stomach bumping against your clit with each thrust, his grunts replacing your own thoughts. Every word he said, every name he called you, it all blended together perfectly.

He begins to kiss at your neck, sucking marks onto your flesh only to soothe them with his tongue. “Missed you too, y’know?” He whispers against you. “Missed this fuckin’ pussy, the way you get so god damn tight. Couldn’t, shit, couldn’t even play with my cock ‘cause it didn’t feel as good as when you do it.” He laughs at this, shaking his head at himself for admitting it. He missed the other stuff too, like your smile and your laugh and the way you smelled when you were curled up in his bed asleep. He’d never tell you that, though. 

Franks thrusts grow sloppy, his patience finally snapping. “You better fuckin’ cum on my dick, Y/N.” He grunts, lifting his head for a brief moment to look you in the eyes. When he sees them squeezed shut he growls, one hand wrapping tight around your throat. “Fuckin’ look at me.” Your eyes pop open, your gasp of shock stuck in your throat. “Your greedy little cunts gonna milk me dry, you understand, bitch?” 

“F-fuck,” you gurgle, your hand grabbing onto his as he tightens his grip again. You do your best to nod, feeling spit collect at the corner of your mouth, your heart beating so quick you think it’s going to burst. You can’t breath but he’s fucking you so well you don’t give a shit; you just hope if you pass out he’ll hold off on cumming inside you until you were awake again so you can feel it. 

“There you go, baby, fuck, cum for me.” Frank grunts, feeling your orgasm just before you do. His hand lets go of your throat as you cum, shoving your head to the side to sink his teeth into your flesh. Somehow, someway, he’s able to hold off for a few moments longer, savoring the feeling of your cunt spasming around him before he cums, the sweet taste of your blood pooling into his mouth tipping him over the edge. He doesn’t let go, groaning into your shoulder as he spills inside you.

Your gasps come out shaky as he feeds. He swallows a few times before finally letting go, your blood covering his mouth. He kisses you roughly, his hips flexing, making sure your cunt gets every drop. “Gross,” you tease when he pulls away, your tongue swiping over the blood he had left behind on your tongue. Your face screws up at the metallic taste but Franks changes to be softer. He runs a finger down the side of your cheek, taking the sight of you in. “What?” You murmur, feeling your face grow hot. 

“I did miss you. For real.” He admits, corner of his lip twitching upwards at both the look of shock that crosses your face and the way your heart skips. He never admitted that to you before; it was always about how much he missed your cunt or your mouth or your hands, how he missed fucking you and making you his, and you always accepted that this was the way it would be. Sure, you dreamed about this moment time and time again, but you never actually thought it would happen. “Being away, you know, made me think some things through.”

“What kind of things?”

“Well…” He tilts his head slightly, surveying your face. “I’m thinking maybe it’s time you joined me.” His hips flex again, pushing his cum deeper inside you, and you gasp, back arching off the bed slightly. Frank moves your legs down off his shoulders and you wrap them around his waist. “Hm? How’s that sound, sweetheart?” Frank purrs, kissing you gently, his cock plunging in and out of you slowly. He pulls back, lips hovering just above yours, a smirk on his face. “You want me to turn you?

[volturissideslut]

Hiii! I loved your latest angst! Could you do something for the kings(poly) where the reader is being ignored and compared to (just like the last one), but she's a mother figure to the guards? So one day maybe the kings found one of the guards conforting reader while she asks them why she's not enough. With a fluff ending if possible :)

Thank you in advance!

𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 (𝕻𝖔𝖑𝖞) + 𝕲𝖚𝖆𝖗𝖉 (𝕻𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖈)

I don't feel like Aro gets enough spotlight in some of my fics so lets say he's the one to find you

It's a strange feeling, isn't it? Not feeling able to open up to the one's you love most, the ones who are supposed to love you - the ones fated to be with you. And yet that was the exact predicament you seemed to be in at this second.

Sat in the garden they were supposed to grow with you (though it did end up just being you caring for the plants yourself) with your head buried in a shoulder to cry on. But not your lovers, no. Your child's. While biologically you were not the mother to a miss Jane Volturi or a mister Alec Volturi, you could not be happier with the situation you found yourself in with them. It had been so long since they lost their mother to those wretched townsfolk, and yet you seemed to integrate with them so seamlessly. They were fast to trust you, truly a great surprise to others.

But as one fell head over heels for you (platonically, of course) the rest surely did follow not far behind.

"I don't understand" your voice was thick with would-be-tears as you sat side by side with Jane under the willow tree you had grown all those years ago. "Why am I not enough anymore? Why do they not love me anymore? All they do is distance themselves"

A pale hand rakes itself comfortingly through your hair, but no voice follows. Jane, ever the loyal one to her masters, could offer you no answer. She herself couldn't understand their changes.

"Perhaps it is just that they are busy with the preparations for battle, but yet they remain so cold constantly" you sigh, determining it was time to get up and crawl out of this whole of self pity you had dug for yourself. Honestly, you were fully grown and could suck it up for now... right?

However, unbeknown to you, Aro had chosen today of all days to watch over some of the newer guards and make sure the job was getting done well for himself. This had led to him being within earshot of your small doubt-session with Jane (not that he had to be far to hear with vampiric abilities and all)

Had he truly been neglectful of his mate without knowing? Maybe the guard could wait for today, and maybe his and his brothers' personal oversight over the preparations wasn't truly this necessary. And with that, some time was pushed aside with you in mind.

-----

To say you where surprised when Aro was in his chambers was an understatement. And, wow, how silly does that sound? Why should you be surprised that a man was in his own chambers? But with the way time had been divided lately it still did come as quite a shock to the system.

"Ah, Cara Mia, I was waiting for you. I was wonde- ... Are you quite alright, dear?" He interrupts himself seeing the expression on your face, head tilted to the side. Only when you give him a tight lipped smile and a curt nod does he continue, choosing to ignore your current look of discomfort though it does send a pang to his heart. "Yes, well, as a was sating. I was hoping you would accompany me to a theatre tonight. It has been a while, hasn't it?"

Though before you could answer, Caius, dramatic as ever, storms into the room and almost sweeps Aro's neatly organised chamber into a hurricane. "I came as soon as I heard. Where is she?" Poor Aro almost gets an elbow to the face as Caius spins to look.

"Brother, hush, she is here." long arms drape themselves over you and the smell of books, musk, and trees surrounds you. Marcus' brown hair is pulled into a low ponytail, that being the only reason it isn't sprawled all over you as you're pulled deeply into his chest from behind. When did he even get here?

With a pink to the bridge of his nose, Aro steps to you and holds your face in the palm of his hand. "You should have told us, dearest. You should have let us know instead of putting up this facade. We will always have time for you. I promised you eternity, did I not?"

With a nod from you you're released from Marcus' hold and brought into Aro's.

"That goes for the rest of us as well" a blond bob appears before you and spins you into his own grasp like he has done many times before when you danced. (Marcus and Aro used to get irritated by it, but all is forgiven when they hear you giggle and spin with him, both in the ballroom and now)

"Now, correct me if i'm wrong, but i think we are long overdue some quality time"

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - V

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters warnings: nsfw, blood, biting, violence, divider by animatedglittergraphics

5.  fight the good fight

When you wake again you are bouncing, bent in half slung over a man’s shoulder; the vampire hunter’s. You can tell from the intoxicating scent of his cologne, his sweat, his blood–him. It’s like catnip to you, and for a moment you just want to go back to sleep, and let him take you wherever he’s taking you. 

That’s a very bad idea, of course, and good on you for recognizing it through the haze of bloodloss and whatever other hold he has over you. You still do not understand what he is, or why he has such power over you. 

From what little you can see, it seems like you’re in a dark alley. There are sirens in the distance–the aftermath of the massacre in the club, you presume. He has got you far away. How long have you been out?

You struggle again, managing to worm free and get down, before the vampire hunter pins you against the wall of the building. “Stop that, you’ll hurt yourself,” he grouses, annoyed. He seems in much better shape than before, having stolen your blood. You, on the other hand, feel so weak you can barely stand. 

“Let go. Please let me go.” 

You must sound so pathetic that even this brutal killer softens for you. His grip changes slightly, holding you up against the wall by your waist. You have no delusions, however, that that can change in an instant. Yet…he’s looking at you with those sad dark eyes, like a man drowning. Even with the splatter of blood across his face and the crust of it dried in his long dark hair–he’s so handsome it hurts, and your fingers clench in his jacket, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, vampling. I saved you.” 

“You…ate me!” 

There is a tick at the corner of his well-formed mouth, betraying his amusement. 

“I took too much. Here, have some back.” He unbuttons his shirt further at the throat to display the strong column of his neck. Your vision zeroes on his jumping pulse like a laser sight, and you notice that intoxicating scent engulfing you again. It’s warm spices and your favorite flowers and pure man–it’s so good that you want to mold yourself to him and never let go. 

It’s a good trick, for a vampire hunter, and at least you are conscious enough to know now that it is a trick. 

“Stop that,” you scold, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to fight it.  

“I can’t help it,” he answers, his voice gone low in a way that shuts down your brain and skips straight your loins. He leans closer, his forehead nearly touching yours, engulfing you with the pure size of him and his hair swinging down to brush your face–he also smells like blood, which does not help you at all. “It’s…you. It’s us.”

“No,” you answer, mostly because you're afraid of someone having that kind of control over you, again. 

“It’s…rare,” he admits. “Who are you?”

“No one,” you insist. “I’m just a girl…who’s really good at being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” And really good at keeping a soft spot for the wrong man. You cannot stop yourself from thinking about John in that moment, and how just one night with him flung you into this strange and terrible supernatural world. Would you change it, if you could? Will there ever come a time, when the thought of him does not feel like talons digging your heart out of your chest? 

“Hmm. Maybe.” He lifts his hand to his throat, and you watch as his fingernails lengthen to sharp points, perfect for breaking his own skin in one neat, bloody line. “Here, milaya. My apology to you.” 

That ruby welling of his life’s essence smells marvelous, and you want to seal your mouth on it more than you’ve wanted anything in a good long while. Somehow, you manage to shake your head, even if minutely. “No, you’ll…enthrall me again or something. I don’t trust you.” 

He sighs. 

“I admit that I want you,” he acknowledges reluctantly. “But you need blood.”

“Yes. Let me go, and I’ll go get some. Again.” It annoys you in that moment that the efforts of your hunt all went to this man’s benefit. Dhampiro, don Juan had called him. Dhampir, you translate to English. Not human, by his own admission. 

Obviously.

He smirks a little down at you. “I saw you feed earlier. Why did you pick him?”

“He killed his wife.” 

“Ah. You like to play jury and executioner.”

“I didn’t kill him.” 

“You’ve killed others though. You’re sloppy about it too.” 

“Am not.” 

He laughs at you, a short, amused, huff, which is as good as an ‘are so’.

“What do you care?” 

“The High Table might start to care, if you make a big enough spectacle of yourself. Naughty little vampires get a visit from the Boogeyman, you know. You aren’t supposed to draw attention. There are rules.” 

“I don’t…know what any of that means,” you’re loathe to admit. 

There’s so much John Constantine could have chosen to fill you in on. Maybe he thought you’d figure it out on your own. Or maybe…he has as much trouble thinking straight around you, as you do him. If he felt a fraction of what you did, when this man before you took you–it’s no wonder you scared John off. Surrendering to that would not be easy for a man like John Constantine. 

“I’d say you need a coven to teach you, but considering what I’m going to do to the locals here…you’d better stick with me.”

“You’re…going to kill them all?” you ask, more intrigued than horrified by the thought. 

“Yes.” There is zero doubt in this man that he can do it, too. After what you saw…you guess you agree with him. Constantine is dangerous, but he could never wreak the sort of massacre this man unleashed in the club. 

And here you are, in his grasp. Well done. 

“Why?”

“Don Juan’s scheming to overthrow the High Table. They don’t like that.” 

“Wait, wait.” A hunger pang washes through you, and you grip his jacket a little harder, your knees weak. The blood dripping down his beautiful throat smells so good, but you realize this might be your chance to finally get some answers. “Who the fuck are the High Table?” 

“How do you not know that?”

“Why does everyone always ask me that instead of just fucking telling me the answer?” you snipe, practically vibrating with frustration. 

“You really have been so alone this whole time?” he asks, his dark eyes inexplicably softening for you. He looks down at you, cupping the side of your face with a paw of a hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb. Maybe it just feels good to be handled like you are something precious, rather than like a farm animal. Or maybe…you are losing your mind, but you have to close your eyes again, shielding yourself from the weight of that blackhole gaze.

“Yes.” You’re not proud of the way your voice cracks as you utter that one word. You hate it, that you think of John, and how he said he’d help you, but mostly he just disappeared on you. You know he has his own life, and his own problems…but he practically abandoned you, all while living right next door. 

It was a good trick, truth be told.  

“That’s a hard way to live. I would know.” His thumb is still stroking your cheek, and it feels so good, and you know this is madness. It has to be a trick. Everything is a fucking trick, with these guys. And yet…it’s as though you can feel this man’s loneliness, the weight of his solitude pressing down upon you, every time you look into his eyes. 

Maybe it’s because he kills everyone, you remind yourself, marveling at your unflagging ability to empathize with the most unavailable men you can find. 

“The High Table?” you prompt again through gritted teeth, trying not to give in to the urge to pull him close, to hide in the bend of his neck, to lose yourself in the heady taste of him and forget everything else. 

“They rule the Underworld. You. Me. Everything that goes bump in the night answers to Them.” He tells you this without condescension, and you could kiss him for that alone. 

“Demons too?”

“No, they’re Hell’s problem. Usually.”

“Then…the High Table are vampires?”

“Vampires. Weres. Sirens. Fey.” He tilts his head in thought. “I’m sure I’m missing something.”   

You nod, trying to digest this information while you are so starved you can hardly think. He’s named more things you didn’t even know existed, but you shouldn’t be surprised at this point. But then…if demons are Hell’s purview, what system of belief do the rest of them answer to? The magnitude of this question makes your head spin. Finding out that the Christian God was real was wild enough for you. What about the rest? 

“Wait…does this mean…all the Gods are real?”

Your leap of logic to the biggest existential question known to man seems to amuse him, the corner of his mouth curling for you. “Malyshka,” he scolds you softly. “You really want to discuss this here? Come on.”

He seems to think he’s taking you somewhere, but you resist again, bracing against the wall.   

“I’d rather…go home, if it’s the same to you.” you admit, winning yourself a tired sigh.

“I can’t…let you do that yet.” 

“Why not?”  

Again, he strokes your face with that big hand, and you feel as though he’s looking into your very soul. 

“You remind me of someone I once knew,” he admits. “A long time ago.”

Someone he lost, you infer from the longing that is woven into those words. Why does that make your heart ache for him?

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “But whoever she was…I’m not her.”

“No,” he agrees, but he tilts his head to examine you, like you are an amoeba under a microscope.  

“But the universe moves in circles, and something is happening here.” He inhales, and you see a flash of that eerie electric blue in his irises again. “I have to know what it is.”

Whatever you meant to say in answer is swallowed up by his mouth lowering to yours, a kiss that is somehow demanding and languorously slow. He claims your lips for his own, holding you to him as his tongue slides into your mouth, teasing you like you’ve done this a thousand times before. Maybe you don’t need to breathe, but he leaves you breathless all the same, overwhelmed by that pheromone scent and his hands on you, one paw at the back of your head guiding your mouth to his neck. He tastes like a miracle, strong and heady and so delicious as you drink him down mouthful by mouthful. His blood is so potent you feel your strength begin to return just from the first swallow, and the rest is pure high. 

You start to see some things, about this man whose blood is in your mouth. You see flashes of a forbidding dark forest, and fighting, so much fighting. A quaint little cottage in the woods, so humble, so warm. There is a woman whose touch feels like sunshine. ‘Yelena,’ he calls her. And with her hands in his hair and a smile on her lips she calls him…

“Jardani?”

 He jerks back to look at you with haunted eyes, pinning you to the wall with his big hand spanning your chest. Drunk on the want of him, you whine like a thwarted kitten, trying to return to the bloody font of his throat. He searches your face as though desperate for the answer to some crucial riddle written upon your features. “How…?” But does not give you the chance to answer, his mouth crashing over yours again with a new ardor, gripping you so hard that even you will have bruises. 

You cannot think. 

There is only the taste of him, intoxicating and wonderful and you cannot stop yourself from pulling at his clothes, holding him to you. You want to climb him, devour him, be inside him, as surely as his lightning-charged blood is raging through you. 

“Fuck,” you hiss when at last you manage to pull away, not for breath but just a break from this madness. What the fuck is he doing to you?

“Yeah?” he asks, seemingly with all seriousness, hoisting you against the wall with hands on your thighs like you weigh nothing at all. Your legs wrap around his waist out of instinct; he pins you with his hips, his manhood rock hard against your center. He grinds against you, his lips on your neck again, teasing open the wound he left earlier, and you can’t help but moan, soaking wet and aching to be filled. In that moment you don’t care that you’re in a dirty alley with a man you don’t even know. You know the heart of him, and right now you would swear unequivocally that he belonged to you. 

“Wow. You High Table assholes sure know how to treat a lady.”

The sound of that familiar voice makes you freeze, some small modicum of sanity returning to you. 

Your would-be lover is less civil, snarling at the newcomer in the alley. “Not a good time, Constantine.” 

“No time like the present, Wick. Put her down.”

With his attention fixed somewhere else, some modicum of clearer thought returns to you. Your first stop is pure mortification. 

There is John, standing tall with his legs spread in his usual black and white suit, and to his shoulder he is holding a large, golden…cross gun? Like he totally intends to use it if he has to. 

The sight of him makes your heart ache with longing. No tricks. No magic. You just…adore him, even while wrapped up in another man’s arms, and you realize you are as hopeless as you are smitten. That connection between you glows again. You feel it in your chest, and it helps clear the lustful ardor that a moment ago gripped you so completely.

Dhampir magic is some scary shit.

The vampire hunter–Jardani?–Wick?–looks at you as though you’ve said something out loud. His eyes narrow; he doesn’t seem to like it one bit. He does put you down, but holds you in front of him like a shield, his big hand at your throat. 

“Never thought the John Constantine would turn vampire’s familiar. Who knew?” taunts the dhampir behind you. 

“What?”

 Both men ignore your question, fixed on each other in this standoff. 

“Call it what you want,” Constantine answers stonily. “I’m the one holding the gun. Let her go.” 

“I don’t want to.”

“I see that. Nice, you always gotta use your Blood Lure to get laid?” 

“Hardly. Your little vampling here is a special girl.” 

“Yeah. But she doesn’t belong to you, Wick, so let her go.” 

“You love her?” 

Wide eyed, you can’t stop yourself from fixating on John at that question, gone grave-still in Wick’s unrelenting grasp. 

In answer, John mostly just grinds his teeth, his lower jaw jutting. “It’s complicated,” he finally admits, and though that’s never a good answer from a man, your treacherous undead heart still skips a beat.  

“I think she deserves better than it’s complicated.”

“Not from you, half breed. Let her go.” 

You feel Wick tense behind you, and you remember the absolute whirlwind of carnage he caused in the club a few blocks away, that supernatural berzerker rage that mowed down vampire after vampire. John is formidable, but you can’t help but think no one can stand up to that and live. “Please,” you say, appealing to the wall of a man behind you. “Please, just let us go.”

Wick growls deep in his chest–a chilling, primal sound that resonates through you, your every hair standing on end. 

His grip upon you flexes, as though his physical being abhors the very idea of it. You’re not really afraid for yourself now. You’re afraid for John, and unbidden you start to cry those bloody tears. “I love him,” you say in the most hushed whisper you can muster, and the moment it leaves your lips you know it’s true, and maybe it has been true since the night you made that grouchy man dinner, and he made you feel like you mattered to someone in this big mean city. “Please don’t hurt him.”

Somehow, this is the thing that seems to call this dangerous man down. For a moment his grip around your waist tightens; he inhales your scent deeply, his nose behind your ear sending a warm thrill down your spine. He speaks low, though you think John can probably hear him anyway. “He doesn’t look good, vampling. I won’t have to wait long for you.” 

Suddenly, he’s just gone. Disappeared into the shadows, as though he is made of night. 

Unsupported, you stumble, and fall right on your butt. 

John looks around warily with the strange gun at the ready, sweeping the alley like he can’t believe the dhampir had actually retreated. Slowly he crosses to you, impossibly tall from your vantage of the ground. He seemingly reluctantly offers you a hand. “You ok?” 

“No,” you answer truthfully, taking his hand, the warm strength of his grip a welcome boon. When he pulls you to your feet you want more than anything to just be in his arms. 

But all he offers you is a hard stare, and a brusque, “Come on,” as he pulls you towards the other end of the alley. 

It’s complicated, he’d said.  

Why does that have to feel right then like he hates your guts?

You’re getting tired of crying for this man. You remind yourself of this as the ball of despair rises in your throat and your eyes sting like mace. 

Did he hear you? If he heard your heartfelt confession to the dhampir, even if it saved his life…he did not like it at all. 

[theemporium]

that’s even better bc tvd is my fav show ever :)))

I don’t have a specific request but plsss write something with vampy lando, or vampy reader and bf lando🥹 thank you <3

- 🧛‍♀️

i think my new obsession is writing vampire fics🤠anyways thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“Garlic?”

“Myth.”

“Holy water?”

“Myth.”

“Sparkly skin?”

You turned your head, shooting your boyfriend a look. However, he just grinned in response, cheeky and boyish and just so Lando.

Oddly enough, you were probably the most freaked out in the relationship. Despite being alive for decades upon decades, experiencing more of the world than most people or creatures ever would, nothing had made you feel the way Lando did. 

He was human. He was so painfully human and he was everything you failed to believe in in the human race. He was sweet and kind. He was thoughtful and caring. After almost three hundred years of being the monster you were, Lando Norris made you feel human. 

It freaked you out. It scared you. It made you want to run away and never look back. So, you did what you did best and sabotaged the only pure, good thing in your life. 

Except, it completely backfired.

Instead of scaring him and pushing him away, it enticed him. It made him want more. It made him want you more. He didn’t see you as a monster or some abomination. He saw you as you. He saw past the fangs and the bloodthirst, he saw you as a person rather than a creature.

“So, Twilight isn’t even a little true?” Lando teased before shaking his head dejectedly. “You’re breaking my heart. Are werewolves even real?”

“Yes,” you grumbled, your nose scrunching up in disgust. “And they are horrid mutts.”

“Yikes,” Lando murmured before he tugged you closer, pulling onto his chest as he laid back against the pillows. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

You snorted. “You will, huh?”

“I think I could do some serious damage,” Lando insisted, puffing his chest out a little. 

Your fingers smoothed over the ridge of his jaw, a softer expression painted across your face. “I wouldn’t ever let you do something like that.”

His brows furrowed together. “Do what?”

“Risk your life for mine,” you said, the thump of his heartbeat echoing like a reassurance that he was there, that he was alive, that he was human. “I wouldn’t let someone hurt you.” 

“Just cause you’re older and stronger and faster,” Lando started, dragging out the words until he saw a small smile twitching at your lips. “Doesn’t mean someone can’t take care of you too.”

You swallowed harshly. “I can’t remember the last person who took care of me.”

“Let me be that person,” Lando whispered as he tucked some hair behind your ear. He then took your face in his hand, his thumb lightly skimming over your cold skin. “Change me.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Change me,” he repeated, just as sure as the first time. “Then we can take care of each other. Forever.”

“Lando, this—” You shook your head. “This is a big change. This isn’t some game—”

“And you aren’t a game to me either,” he said in a sincere and genuine voice. “You’re it for me, baby. You’re my girl. And I wanna be with you, now and forever.”

You could almost feel yourself choking up as you smiled at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.” He nodded before he lifted his head up, a soft and lingering kiss placed on his lips before he pulled back. “We’ll be better than Bella and Edward.”

You snorted. 

“I mean it, babe. My hair is so much better than his anyway.”

.

[itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland]

Finding Peace Pt.7: Hope (Spike x y/n)

Requested: No. Part 7 of the Multi Fic.

Summary: Spike knew that a better life was possible, but only through sacrifice.

TW: none

Word count: 2.3k

Previous | Next

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He felt horrible. Destroyed. Lesser than what he wanted to be. He continued to hurt himself by making bad choices. Choices that he knew were detrimental to him. Never good enough for others, he was doomed to not be good enough for himself.

Spike walked the cemetery looking for trouble. A vampire or demon to entertain him, that’s all he needed. Soon he would find no one to entertain his self-destruction.

"Bloody slayer, doin' her job.” He moped at the loss of companionship.

He desperately wanted to visit y/n but he knew he had no business there. She wanted to rest and he wanted to not be reminded of his worthlessness. If only he was enough or more, he could prove to her that he deserved to be by her side. To be hers. However, he still craves violence and destruction. He reminds himself that if the chip wasn't in place that he would choose to kill for fun. And she knew that, which made him lesser than what she deserved.

He hoped Buffy was hurt or low so that she could take her frustration out on him. Make him feel the pain. The only thing that he deserved.

He continues to wander and ends up in town looking for something to do. What can a chipped vampire do in a hellmouth? He hates it when he finds himself walking down y/n's street. He was attracted to her like a moth to a flame. He gave in and gave up. If Buffy brought him pain, y/n brought him peace. Even when he didn't deserve it, he craved it.

As he walks up to y/n's house his attention is caught by the overwhelming stench of werewolf. Again, she was seeing that damned werewolf. What did she see in him? Why did she choose him, when Spike was right there, ready, and willing? He can hear the rustle of bedsheets from the open window. Lustful sighs and laughter. All things that he will never have.

He waited outside on the porch. Heated. Angry. Hurt. He was going to catch this werewolf and... what? Hurt him? Threaten him? In every scenario y/n would scold him. But he didn't give a damn. He was blinded by passion and revenge.

Hours passed but he waited patiently until the front door opened. It was Matteo. Spike's blood boiled but he stood, frozen, speechless. He simply gave Matteo a head nod as Matteo walked away from the house. Spike caught the door before it closed. He refused to knock to let y/n know he was there. He wanted to catch her red handed, satiated and vulnerable. All the feelings that he wanted to make her feel.

He walked into your bedroom and sat on the bed. The scene of the crime. You were showering so he waited. When you came out in a towel you gasped.

"Spike!"

"Somethin' wrong, love?" He played it cool.

He could sense her nervousness. He breathed in her panic.

"What are you doing here? I didn't hear you knock." You scrambled to get clothes.

"That's cause I didn' knock."

You stand there in a towel, clothes in hand. You decide it’s best to go back to the bathroom to change. Spike is aware of your dilemma.

"Don't let me stop you." He grins.

"Just turn around." You sigh giving up.

He does as you ask. He feels giddy knowing that your naked body was mere feet away from him. How he longed to look. But he was a gentleman and respected your wishes.

"Done" he turns back around.

"Havin' fun, are we?"

You stammer looking for the right answer. "A girl has needs."

He stood up and moved faster than you expected. He put his hand on your hip and pulled you to him. Bodies flushed together. You could feel every inch of him. His other hand trailed your face with the back of his hand.

"If your needs were bein’ neglected, why didn' you come to me?" He was feeling bold, brash.

You forget to breathe. Your head is spinning. You remind yourself to take it slow. To think before reacting, but your body betrays you and your thoughts go haywire.

You wrap your arms around his neck, settling into his hold. Feeling the comfort of his body.

"You know why..." was all you said. It was enough for Spike to falter, to almost loosen his grip. He steadies himself and holds you tighter, hoping you feel his resolve.

"It could be different." He tries.

"We're too far apart." You hold your ground.

"Let's close the gap, then." He insists.

You both stay as you are, staring into each other’s eyes. Fighting a lost battle. Too much is at stake and there's not enough space for mistakes.

His eyes beg you to reconsider, but your resolve never waivers. He has so much to say but not enough words. How to ask for you to choose him when he couldn't even choose himself?

"What would it take?" He was determined.

You faltered. What would it take? You hold your silence, mulling the question over. Spike grew impatient, afraid.

Spike sighs, defeated. He lets go of your body, putting distance between you two.

You stand there in ruins. You could have it all but at what cost. You were not meant to be loved. And he wasn't mean to be good. If these two situations were to dissipate, the difference it would make. You wondered if this change would bring you peace and break the curse. You didn't dare entertain the idea.

You both stood silent, waiting for the other to speak first. The seconds felt like hours.

"Want to dance?" You cave.

He looks up at you. He wondered if that was all you were capable of giving him. He wonders if that was all he could have. He assents.

You find a slow song playlist. Something smooth and personal.

"No waltz tonight, pet?" He smiles softly.

You shake your head. You wanted him to hold you.

You lay your head on his chest, while he wraps his arms around you. The proximity was killing him. He has you so close and yet you were so far away from his grasp.

The music plays softly as your bodies sway. Spike makes sure to memorize every second of your time together. He may not have you forever but he has you right now, and that is pure bliss.

A knock is heard on the bedroom door. You both are startled but don't break contact.

Matteo stood at the doorway, annoyed. At the sight of him you let go of Spike and straighten yourself. Spike smiles smugly at him.

"Matteo... what's wrong?"

"I left my phone." He points to it on your nightstand.

You stand there as he gets his phone, walking past Spike who refused to move. You swear you hear Matteo growl lowly, but you brush it off.

"Sorry to interrupt." He squares up to Spike and walks out of the room.

You palm your face out of embarrassment.

"What's wrong with your boyfriend?" Spike asks, still smug.

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Sorry, your lover." Spike spoke the last word through gritted teeth.

"Not that either." You busy yourself by making the bed.

"What would you call him, then?" He laid down on the bed impeding you from completing your task.

You sigh in frustration, "what do you call Buffy?" You bite back.

"By her name." He smiles his shit eating grin.

You look at him. You remind yourself to breathe. This man was going to be the end of you on so many levels. You walk out of the room into the kitchen. He follows you to the kitchen.

"Worked ourselves an appetite, did we?" Spike was still grinning, sitting on your counter.

You turn to him thinking of ways to shut him up, to catch him off guard. The only thought in your head was how badly you wanted to taste his words, to kiss him senseless. That, in itself, would bring more trouble and confusion than just sending him away. You're passion quickly turns bitter as you remember his choices.

"Don't you have a slayer to take care of?" You insinuate.

"That's why I’m here." Spike is feeling flirty and needy. Tonight was not a night for Buffy. Tonight he had to prove that he was the only one in y/n's life. Tonight, Matteo had your body but Spike had your heart.

You sigh. "I can't keep doing this with you." You turn to him, defeated.

He's caught off guard by your confession. He stutters and fails to find something to say. What did you mean by that? Was this you pushing him away? Anger bubbles in his stomach.

"But you can with that werewolf?" Spike said venomously.

"I already told you, he's a distraction. Just like the others, he has an expiration date."

"Others?!" Spike raises his voice.

"What do you want from me? I have needs. I can't just settle down. Not while I’m cursed."

"Am I not good enough? Am I too beneath you?" Spike was closer to you, closing the gap.  

"What? No. It's just... you're different." You waiver.

"Different. You mean evil."

You raise your chin in defiance. Who was he to be questioning your choices.

"You're being quite bold for someone who is openly fucking someone else."

He's incredulous.

"You want something with me but not enough to let Buffy go. You don't want me. You want what you can't have." You spit out, angry and hurt.

"Is that what you think? That I’m only here because you're unreachable?"

"Why else would you not commit? Why else would you play with me, make me feel?"

He scoffs. In some level she was right. He couldn't let go of Buffy. He needed the punishment, the constant reminder he was only dirt. But he craved y/n because she brought him hope. He needed to feel the light even when he hadn’t earned it. But he wasn't ready to admit all of this to himself. He wanted to be selfish. To move through two worlds, to be balanced. To feel.

"I've heard enough." He states.

"So, what now?" You were determined, you needed closure.

"Keep your werewolf. Live in your fantasy. You want to find peace so bad but you're too busy escaping what you have." He told the truth, unafraid of the repercussions.

Before you could provide a rebuttal he stepped away and went for the door.

"You want to feel something so bad but you're too busy punishing yourself." You yelled after him, wanting the last word.

You hear the door slam. He's gone. You feel tears roll down your face. A thousand years and you had never cried for man. You stand there feeling sorry for yourself. Hating how things ended.

Spike storms down to his crypt. Angry and hurt. He made the first move, and he was shot down. What else did he think was going to happen? He wanted to be bold and flirty in the hopes you would reciprocate but it blew up in his face, just like he deserved. Pain through Buffy and pain through y/n, just desserts. He knew better but he needed something, anything to hold onto hope. This just proved that he wasn't good enough. He didn't deserve the light, the hope, the love. At least, not as he is now. Soulless and evil. He is reminded that the chip was the only thing keeping him in your world. He could never be the key to your curse but he wanted to be your respite, your companion. He dreamed of that much. He was but half a man and half a vampire. He craved to be whole but that would mean a sacrifice.

He enters his crypt in a haste. He quickly picks up after himself, determined to leave and find what he’s looking for. Buffy busts through the door. Focused and wanting. She throws herself on Spike. Rough kisses and wandering hands. Spike is unresponsive, holding his ground. He feared the repercussions of his choice, but if he wanted more for himself he would have to sacrifice immediate gratification.

"What?" Buffy spit out disdainfully.  

"Not tonight, love." He pries himself from her grasp.

He fears a fight will break out. He is ready to endure her rage.

Enraged, she pushes him away. “What? Too caught up on y/n?

He’s taken aback. He refuses to answer. Buffy gets closer, menacingly.

“You keep dreaming of her as if you deserved her. You’re nothing to her, like you’re nothing to me.”

Spike stands his ground, tears burning in his eyes.

Buffy gives up and walks away. "Don't expect me to come back."

Buffy exits the crypt leaving Spike alone with his thoughts. He is glad that there was no physical altercation but can’t help but feel beat down and bruised.

"Fuck..." he mumbled under his breath.

Alone by force and alone by choice. He felt like he couldn’t catch a break. So many thoughts and none conducive to an answer or solution. Spike stood frozen, afraid. He knew what would get him to the person of his desire. However, was he strong enough to conquer his own demons? Was he strong enough to become who he wanted to be? He pondered this as he wrote a quick note to y/n. He needed answers. He needed to re-inhabit his body. No more dancing on the edge of pain and punishment. No more lust and violence. If he wanted an answer from you, the answer he craved, he had to give up the chains that kept him drowning in an ocean of despair.

He got on his motorcycle and drove to your house. He dropped off the note in your mailbox and drove off.

He hoped that you would read the note. He hoped you would wait for him. He hoped.

[ikigaisvt]

sleepy

in which your boyfriend comforts you after a restless night.

pairing: joshua x gn!reader words count: 1.6k content: comfort, fluff warnings: talk of insomnia, eating, talk of drinking, petnames (for reader: babe, baby, sweeheart / for joshua: josh, love), skinship (cuddles, kisses) note: hi!! the joshua brainrot has been hitting hard lately; im kinda in love,, thank you so much @goblinvern for proof reading this for me 🫶 you're the absolute best! minors are allowed to interact with this post but please don't follow or i'll hard block you. enjoy and don't forget to leave a like/comment/reblog! note 2.0: i wasn't planning on posting this fic before the new year, but since i had it sitting in the drafts and it's joshua's day, i thought it'd be a good timing to post it now~ i hope everyone will have a good 2024 and happy birthday to shua!! 🫶

You were pretty sure if people would have to describe you, they’d use that word: admirative. You were one to always be left in awe at people’s talents, whether it be singing, drawing, dancing or truly anything else. Even though you were creative yourself, you’d always be admirative of what people could create out of their minds only. But if you had to say the one skill that would leave you speechless, as it is not one you possess, it’s being able to function with little to no sleep.

Okay, let’s redo this. If you’re being truthful, people would more likely describe you as sleepy. You were someone who always loved sleeping; however, sleep did not like you. You were never like one of those people who could sleep anywhere and through anything, you were rather on the more sensitive side when it came to sleeping. Over the years, you had put together a very strict routine you had to follow every night to ensure a restful sleep. But oh, if you had the bad idea or the bad luck to skip or miss a step? You’d end up falling asleep at 1 am and waking up at 5 am. And that’s exactly what happened yesterday night. Now, you’re used to this so surely you would know how to handle your own state and have the most productive day despite your tiredness. However, because the world never gives enough hardships to one, you were sometimes faced with a special kind of tiredness. A tiredness that would make you stick to anyone’s side. A tiredness that would make you hug a person and never let go. And when that happened, well, no amount of self-knowledge could make you change for the day. But maybe you have something to thank the world for: it gave the loveliest and gentlest boyfriend ever. And he loves cuddles.

10 am – 5 hours since I’ve been awake. He should be awake pretty soon; you think to yourself. Here you were, perched on the kitchen stool, an empty bowl of cereal in front of you, waiting for your boyfriend to wake up so you could cuddle. When you first woke up, you had hoped you would fall back asleep immediately, even though that rarely happened for you, so you didn’t even think of cuddling. But when you realized you would not fall asleep, you decide to get up and go about your day, already looking forward to your afternoon’s nap. All you did was settle down on your couch and put on your favorite show – The Vampire Diaries and around 9am, when hungriness settled down in the pit of your stomach, you got up and made yourself a bowl of cereal. You don’t know what triggered your need to hug your boyfriend – maybe the chill air that settled in your apartment as winter is coming closer or maybe the fact that you haven’t seen him a lot lately, but all you have been thinking about since then was him. Him and his arms enveloping you. Him and his scent making your head spin. Him and his fingers playing with your hair. Him, him, him. Now, you could have woken him up but knowing he came back home around 2 am – as he was out drinking with Jeonghan – you didn’t find it in you to ruin his sleep.

“10:30 am – he really should be awake by now,” you say out loud before you hear the water running in your bathroom. You slowly lean and peek at your hallway only to see Joshua walk down towards you – more like, towards the kitchen, his hair sticking out in weird angles while he rubs the sleep away from his eyes.

“Sweetheart,” he calls out to you once he gets closer, “Since when have you been awake?” he asks, worries written all over his face. He knows how much you struggle with sleeping.

“I woke up around 5,” you mumble as he starts making himself a cup of coffee. At your words he turns around to look at you, gives up on his coffee and comes around the kitchen bar.

“Oh babe,” he says, his hands reaching for your face, cupping your cheeks gently, “Is it because of me? Did I wake you up?” he questions, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

“No, you’re fine. You know how it gets for me sometimes,” you reassure him, your hands holding on his wrists.

“Okay, okay,” he says, “What can I do? Do you want to stay in bed while I clean around? Today is cleaning day, right?” he asks, trying to come up with a way to make today easier for you.

“Well, cleaning day is reported to tomorrow,” you chuckle, lighting up the situation, “but there’s something I’d really like,” you mumble, trying to work up the courage to ask him for cuddles.

“Yes, tell me. Anything for you,” he nods, his hands now resting on your neck, his fingers playing with the little hair at the back of your head.

“You promise you won’t make fun of me?” you ask him, holding out your hand in a pinky promise.

“Of course. I promise I won’t make fun of you,” he states, as he meets your hand in the same promise, a glint of mischievousness appearing in his eyes, “You want cuddles, don’t you?” he asks in a smile.

“How did you know?” you gasp, not knowing what could have given you up. But truly, Joshua knew as soon as he looked at you. He couldn’t pin point what gave you away either but he’s sure it’s there somewhere, in your shiny eyes, in your slight pout or maybe it’s the way your body is leaning into his, faster, closer, than usual.

“You always ask me to not make fun of you before asking for cuddles,” he chuckles, trying to come up with an answer without giving away how much he loves you, “and I always tell you I will not. Never.” He says, planting a kiss on your forehead, “Especially not when you’re being so open with what you need. You know I’ll always try to provide whatever you need for you.” Okay, he thinks to himself, maybe I did give myself away with that one.

“Thank you, Josh,” you murmur, your hands finding his shirt, as you pull him towards you so he can stand between your legs, “Just like this. For a few seconds.” You tell him, your voice even quieter as you bury yourself in his chest. You feel his arms reach behind you, rubbing your head and your back in slow motion, bringing you the comfort you were wishing for. Your body slowly relaxes, your hands untighten against his shirt and your breath becomes slower, little sighs leaving you as you realize that this is feeling rested. This is what love feels like. This is what home feels like.

“Feels good?” he whispers, his hand now drawing circles on your back, your response coming in the form of a nod, “You want to move to the couch?” he asks as you mumble yes against his shirt, slowly leaving his embrace. You look up at him, your eyes meeting as he reaches for your face, slowly coming closer to your lips. Just as you close your eyes and your lips are about to meet, he whispers something about the couch and suddenly you’re hoisted up in the air, his arms around you.

“There we go, baby,” he says as he kisses your forehead, blush creeping on your cheeks at how much he’s covering you with love, “Hold on tight,” he whispers, your arms finding rest on his shoulders as he holds you closer to his chest.

He slowly makes his way to the couch, the slight movement of his steps almost lulling you to sleep, to that state you always struggle to find on your own. And yet with him, it’s so easy. So easy you find yourself sleepier than before, as Joshua sets you down on the couch, his arms open to allow you the rest you deeply deserve. Your cheek is pressed against his chest, his heart like a lullaby to you while he strokes your hair out of your face.

“You’re good now?” he whispers as he plants another kiss on your head.

“Hm, yeah. Thank you, love,” you whisper, already feeling sleepier than a few minutes ago as he strokes your back.

“Please, don’t thank me,” he starts, “always come find me when you can’t sleep, okay? Call me and I’ll come running. Tell me and I’ll drop everything. Wake me up whenever and I will give every ounce of sleep to you.” he says, your eyes looking up at him, “You need to promise me, okay?” he asks, his hand already out in a pinky promise.

“I swear,” you answer, your hand locking his into a promise. You take a hold of his hand quick enough, playing with his fingers before you start leaving kisses on his open palm, his knuckles, the tip of his fingers, “I love you.” you whisper as you let his hand down, your fingers still intertwined.

“I know,” he says quietly, his eyes filled with something you can’t describe. Perhaps it is love. “I love you too. So much.” He tells you, sealing his love with a kiss on your hand as your eyes feel heavier than before, sleep and warmth slowly invading your body.

It’s when you feel your body getting heavier, Joshua’s heart beats fading in the background as his hand never stop rubbing your back that you realize you should have added cuddles with Joshua as a crucial part of your night routine. No matter how many tips you will try to sleep better – earplugs, sleeping masks, white noise music, nothing will ever compare to Joshua and the comfort, rest and love he brings you. And maybe after a few years, you’ll be able to only have one step in your night routine.

thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it 🫶