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badkitty3000 · 6 months ago

Note

Can you write a Five x Vivi fanfic where Vivi is sick with the flu/has a small injury & has to rest & Five just stays home and takes care of her for like a week?? Maybe some smut at the end👀👀

Thank you for the request!! Here's a funny/sweet/smutty one-shot of Five taking care of his sick wife like the sexy softy he is. I hope you enjoy! 😽

If you like reading Five as a caregiver, you may like my other, reader-insert story Love In The Time Of Cholera And Coffee ❤️

In Sickness And In Health

Warnings: Smut, Daddy kink

Five x OC One-shot, Words: 4,437

“What are you doing?”

Five looked his wife over with a frown as he sat at the kitchen table with his morning coffee. She was dressed in her normal work attire, but her hair was matted in the back and the small amount of eye makeup she had tried to apply was already sliding down her face and mixing with sweat that was starting to bead there. Her eyes were watering and her nose and cheeks were red. After coughing so hard it sounded like she was going to lose a lung, she wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

“Going to work. What does it look like?” Viv answered weakly on her way to get a tissue.

“Jesus, Vivian, you look like total shit. You can’t go to work like that.”

She rolled her eyes and made a noise that resembled a dying elephant as she blew her nose. “I have to go to work, Five. But thanks for the compliment.”

Five put his mug down and leaned back in his chair, an eyebrow raised. “You look like you’re about one sneeze away from passing out cold. You do not need to be going to work like that, and I can guarantee no one there wants your gross germs, either.”

“Well, I appreciate your concern, but I at least have to go in for a little bit. I’m needed.”

With a smile, Five got up and took her hand, gently taking the car keys that were dangling from her fingers.

“Darling, you know I love having you go off every day and earn the big bucks while I enjoy my peaceful days of retirement; I find nothing sexier. But you are absolutely not going to work. You need to stay home and rest.”

“But, I have this report…”

Five shook his head slowly.

“You can’t make me stay home…” Viv started to protest with a glare until she doubled over in a violent coughing fit. When she looked back up at Five, she sighed at his ‘I told you so’ face. She really hated it when he was right. “Fine, I will stay home. Just for today, though.”

“Good. Now go upstairs, get out of your clothes and back in bed. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Viv raised her eyebrows. “This better not be some elaborate scheme of yours to try and get laid.”

“Vivie, no offense, but the whole ‘dying of the plague’ look is not really doing it for me. Not to mention, I don’t need an elaborate scheme to get laid.”

Too tired to think of a witty response to that, Viv just huffed and turned around, heading for her bed. She may have hated being sick and having to stay home when there were a million things to do at work, but she cracked a tiny smile on her way up the stairs. Five was such a softy when it came to her and it made her love him even more knowing that he wanted to take care of her.

Once she had kicked off her heels and changed into some sweats and her favorite comfy cat t-shirt, Viv crawled under the covers of their bed, exhausted. Now that she wasn’t focused on getting to work, it became very clear that her entire body ached and she was shivering and sweating at the same time. She had a horrific headache and she couldn’t even breathe out of her nose. She felt like she could have slept for a year.

Viv was about to fall asleep when Five came in. He was carrying a tray with a glass of water, some medicine for her fever, and a mug of hot tea. After he made sure she took the pills and had a few sips of the tea, he helped her get comfortable again.

Five gave her a kiss on her damp forehead. “Get some sleep, angel. I’ll make you some soup and bring it up later.”

“Thanks, baby,” she mumbled, already drooling onto her pillow as she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

When she woke up later that afternoon, Viv noticed how long she had been sleeping and was shocked. Then she remembered Five said he was going to make her some soup, which actually sounded pretty good. She got out of bed and started down the stairs to the kitchen, where she heard a lot of rummaging around. When she walked in, Five was busy chopping up vegetables as a big pot of homemade chicken noodle soup simmered on the stove. He turned around, surprised, when he heard her come in.

“What are you doing up? You should be in bed.”

Viv smiled weakly. “I wanted to know what you were up to. Is that my soup?”

Five turned to face her, a knife in one hand, and wearing an apron that said “I’ll Feed All You Fuckers” on the front. “Yes, it is. It’s almost ready, so go back upstairs and I’ll bring you some in a minute.”

Trying not to laugh, partly because her head felt like it might explode and laughing would probably make it worse, she sighed heavily. “I know you have an aversion to canned food, but wouldn’t it be easier just to throw some Campbell’s soup in a bowl? I promise I’m not picky.”

With a deep frown, his dark eyebrows drawing together, Five pointed the knife at her. “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that. Do you know how many women would kill to have their husbands making them homemade soup?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Well, it’s probably a lot. So, get your ass out of here and back upstairs before I blink you back up there myself.”

Viv held her hands up. “Alright, I’m going. Sorry to interrupt, Ms. Child.”

“Joke’s on you, because that’s a very high compliment!” he called after her as she trudged heavily back up the stairs.

Half an hour later, after Five was satisfied with the tenderness of the carrots and celery, he delivered Viv her soup. She ate as much as she could before feeling dizzy again and needing to lie down. Her muscles hurt and her head was throbbing, but she thanked Five for taking care of her and he left again while she fell back asleep.

Sometime during the night, Vivian woke up alone in their bed. Squinting at the clock on the nightstand, she saw it was after midnight. Five definitely should have come to bed by then. She was feeling feverish again since the medication she had taken earlier had worn off. And she hated being in bed by herself.

“Five?” she called, but her voice was weak and quiet and she knew wherever he was he wouldn’t be able to hear her.

She got up again, swaying on shaking legs, and headed for the stairs. “Five?” she called out again, this time a little louder. She was halfway down the stairs when she suddenly felt a wave of dizziness wash over her and black spots started to form in front of her eyes. She gripped the railing with both hands, but she felt her knees start to give out. Just as she was about to tumble down the stairs, Five appeared in a flash of blue and grabbed her around the waist.

“What the hell are you doing?” he barked as he took her full weight in his arms and held her upright.

“I was looking for you,” Viv answered sadly as she clung to his shoulders.

Five sighed. “Dammit, Vivie, you almost killed yourself. Why were you looking for me?”

“Because I don’t like sleeping alone,” she whined again, her eyes half closed. “And I think my fever’s back.”

“You need to stay in bed. I was going to sleep on the couch to give you more space, but if you want me to sleep up there I will. Come on.”

Five helped her back up the stairs and into their bedroom again, helping her into bed. Then he went and got more medicine for her fever and made sure she took it. After she was settled in, he climbed in with her. He wasn’t really excited about being that close to her in her diseased state, but he also couldn’t deny her anything. So, if she wanted him sleeping next to her, he’d oblige. Even if it meant he may contract the Ebola virus, or whatever the hell she had.

Viv snuggled up next to him, her arm thrown across his bare stomach, and quickly fell asleep again. Five laid awake for another hour, not wanting to move in case he disturbed her while listening to her snoring until he finally fell asleep.

The next day, she wasn’t much better, and Five continued to take care of her, despite her frequent attempts at trying to leave the bedroom. Every time Viv would sneak out, Five would stop her, annoyed, and blink her back into bed; even if she did threaten to throw up on him. She tried to bring her laptop to bed to work on some reports for work, but Five took it and hid it away. If she pretended she was getting a book to read, but was really checking her phone for any messages, he would find her and snatch it out of her hand with a stern look.

Five also continued making her comfort foods, like soup, and bread, and mashed potatoes. And while Viv loved all of it, and was thankful he was taking such good care of her, she had to tell him several times that taking an hour to make some buttered noodles because “they weren’t al dente” was insane. But Five just gave her a look that suggested “don’t fuck with me” and stood there with crossed arms while he made sure she ate at least a few bites.

On the third day, Vivian was feeling slightly better and was at least able to sit up in bed, watch some TV, and eat a little more. Sometime in the afternoon, Viv couldn’t sleep anymore, but she wanted Five to lie next to her. Even though he acted like he was doing her a big favor, he secretly loved that his wife wanted him near her. So, Five stretched out next to her in his black sweatpants and plain white t-shirt with his crossword puzzle, while she watched old episodes of 90s TV shows in her faded cat pajamas.

Four days in, and Viv was getting restless. She no longer had a fever, but she still was not feeling completely like her normal self again. The boredom was starting to set in.

“Five…” she whined. “I’m fine. I can go back to work, I swear. I am not dying.”

“Maybe not, but even if you’re feeling better, if you go back to work now you’ll just end up sicker again. Your body needs time to heal.”

Viv cocked her head to the side. “And since when did you become an expert in all things medically related?”

“Since I was raised by a robot mother programmed to recognize every slight decline in my health, and treat it accordingly so that I could perform at peak physical strength.”

“Oh, right, I forgot. You know, not everything has to be a competition as to whose childhood was harder. I once fractured my elbow falling off the monkey bars on the playground and my parents still made me go to gym class the next day.”

Five raised one eyebrow. “I once was two hours deep into training, accidentally fell off a ten-foot tall ledge with a miss-timed blink, and ended up breaking my collarbone, left ankle, and right wrist at the same time. I still had to participate in the next day’s mission.” He gave her a cocky smirk. “Took down two, full-grown men that day. Barely broke a sweat.”

“I find this very hard to believe.”

“Which part? My superhuman tolerance for pain, or my ability to remain a total badass while suffering several broken bones?”

Viv smiled. “I bet you were so cute in your little uniform, beating up bad guys. All feral and foaming at the mouth; like a miniature, teleporting Hulk in knee socks.”

“Make fun all you want. The girls loved it.”

Viv rolled her eyes. “Now I know you’re full of shit.”

“Regardless, you’re staying put. End of story.”

With a coy smile, she took Five’s wrist in her hand and ran a finger inside his palm, batting her eyelashes even though her eyes were still watering and had dark circles under them. “You know I love it when you boss me around.”

He cupped her chin in his other hand. “I know very well that you do, angel. And normally the little act of seduction you’re trying for right now would work, but not today. Get back to bed.”

With a pout and an annoyed sigh, Viv dropped his hand and the subject before stomping back to bed.

Later that day, Five was keeping her company in bed since she claimed she had read everything she wanted to and watched all of the dumb shows she could handle. And since he still wouldn’t let her have her work computer back, she made him hang out with her. Five sat propped up against the headboard while Viv sat between his legs, with her back against his chest and her head against his shoulder. He stroked her hair idly while they talked quietly and she rested. Periodically, he would give her little kisses on her head and she would smile with her eyes closed.

“Are you comfortable, my love? Do you need me to bring you anything?”

She shook her head and smiled up at him. “If someone had told me years ago that Five Hargreeves, the deadly assassin, would be making me homemade soup and babying me while I was sick, I would have laughed in their face.”

He looked down at her, the tug at the corner of his mouth betraying the seriousness he was going for. “Do you see what you have done to me? I’m like a former stray dog that you lured inside with treats and then neutered.”

“If by ‘lured inside with treats’, you mean I fucked the bitch out of you, then yeah I guess so.”

“I’m not a bitch,” he answered sharply.

Viv laughed. “I know you’re not…not anymore. And you are most definitely not neutered. The whole reason I kept you around was for your amazing sexual skill set, so there would be no benefit to getting rid of that function.”

“Amazing, huh?”

She patted his leg. “You may have been a jerk sometimes, but you definitely were, and still are, very good in the sack.”

Five chuckled, resumed running his fingers through her soft hair, and was quiet for a few seconds. That’s when Vivian felt a very prominent and very familiar object rising up from Five’s pants and poking her in the back. Her eyes flew open and she sat straight up, turning to look at him with her mouth agape.

“Five, oh my god! You cannot be serious right now.”

He couldn’t help laughing, even as he tried to defend himself. “I’m sorry! But you’re talking about me fucking you and your ass is pressed into my crotch. I have no control over these things.”

“Wow, that is just…”

“Impressive?”

Viv shook her head. “No, I was going to say bad timing for you. My head still feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and I haven’t showered in over 24 hours, so that is 100% your problem now.”

Five shrugged. “You know I’m very efficient. I can have this taken care of in two minutes. Three, tops.”

“I’m very glad that only applies to your solo missions and not anything where I’m involved.”

He gave her a wink and smile. “You’re welcome,” and then he was gone; disappearing into one of his portals to presumably handle the situation somewhere else.

After another whole day of Vivian being forced to stay in bed and Five insisting it was medically necessary, she was finally feeling like her old self again. Her color had returned and she had her energy back. Five even let her check her work emails. She had to laugh because even though he was irritating and obsessive, he was doing all of it because he loved her so much. And any time she was reminded of that, she loved him that much more in return.

Five was sitting in an armchair in the living room, reading a book, when Viv came in and stood behind him, bending over so that she could give him a kiss on the cheek. Five gave her a smile, but when her hands slid down the inside of his shirt and over his bare chest, he suddenly became much more interested. He let his book fall to the ground.

“Hello, darling,” he said as Viv continued to snake her hands over his pecs. “Feeling better, I see.”

She nodded and kissed the side of his neck. “Thanks to you. You took such good care of me, that I thought it wouldn’t be right if I didn’t return the favor in some way.” She switched sides and gave him another kiss on the neck, making him suck in a sharp breath. “Let me thank you properly, Daddy,” she purred next to his ear as she opened the top few buttons of his shirt.

“And how to you propose to do that, angel?” he teased, even though he could hardly contain himself.

Viv kept one hand on him, running it over his shoulders as she walked around to face him. That’s when Five almost lost his mind. She was wearing a very skimpy pair of black thong panties paired with a sheer black bra that pushed her tits up. The pair of black stilettos she wore accentuated her calves and butt, and once Five could take his eyes off her body, he noticed she had added the red lipstick that he loved. His mouth hung open for a second before he swallowed hard.

“Holy shit…” he breathed out as she sat sideways across his lap, draping an arm over his shoulder and lightly twisting her fingers into his hair in the back. “I don’t think I did that much to deserve this. You look incredible.”

Viv smiled. “This is just part of your thank you present. The rest is getting to decide what to do with it.”

She leaned in and placed a kiss on his exposed collarbone before undoing another button on his shirt. Five closed his eyes and a quiet and rather embarrassing moan crept out. His hand was already rubbing across her smooth thigh and he tilted his head back as she continued to stain his neck and chest with red lip marks.

“What do you want, Daddy?” she whispered seductively in between kisses. “I’ll do anything for you.”

“Anything?” Five managed to croak out as he squeezed her leg. “Fuck…”

His brain was scrambled with roughly eight million ideas running around in his head with that little invitation. He couldn’t think straight, not with her lips traveling over his chest while tugging his shirt out from his pants, unbuttoning it all the way so that she could run her hands down his stomach. When she let out a tiny moan and kissed his mouth, licking lightly at his bottom lip, Five couldn’t stand it anymore. If he was going to get back the use of even one of his brain cells, he needed to be the one in charge again.

With a hand circling her throat lightly, Five pulled back from her kiss. When he had her eyes locked on his, he applied just a little more pressure to her neck.

“On your knees,” he demanded in that tone of voice that drove Viv crazy.

When she immediately slid off his lap and onto the floor between his legs, she looked up at him, blinking innocently and waiting for further instructions. He lovingly fixed a piece of stray hair and tucked it behind her ear. Then he took his thumb and wiped away a smudge of lipstick from the corner of her mouth. He kept his hand on her chin, holding her in place while he talked to her.

“I want you to suck my cock. I want to feel the back of your throat and you better not let up unless I say so. Understand?”

Viv nodded and was already in the process of undoing his pants; a small smile on her face. She looked up at him under dark lashes. “Whatever you say, Daddy.”

As soon as her mouth was on him, Five couldn’t help it. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pushed his hips up, driving his dick deeper into her throat until she was gagging. But she didn’t let up, just like he told her, as she took him in all the way to the base and ran her tongue up the underside of his shaft. Five laid his head back with a loud groan and closed his eyes.

“God damn it, that’s perfect,” he moaned. “Don’t stop.”

After another couple minutes of intensely fucking his wife’s face, Five untangled his hand from her hair and let her up. When she sat back on her knees, her face smeared with the same red lipstick that was now all over his dick, breathing hard and blinking up at him, Five lost what little control he had been clinging to. His carefully mapped out plans that he had crafted inside his head immediately vanished and his caveman instincts took over.

“Up,” he growled, before grabbing her by her arm and pulling her up with him as he stood up. “You are getting fucked.”

Before she had anytime to either respond or process what she was being told, Viv was being dragged through a portal of time and space, ending up in their bedroom. Five immediately wrestled his clothes off while she tried to regain her balance again. Then he abruptly picked her up, holding her under her thighs, and threw her onto the bed. He smirked when she squealed but was on top of her in one second, his mouth already hungrily sucking and biting at her skin.

Viv arched her back as Five ran his tongue over the see-through fabric of her bra, scraping his teeth over her nipples and leaving purple bruises all over her chest. He was frantic in his marking of her body. He wanted to claim her as his and even though he knew she already was, he still wanted to see the proof. As she whined and moaned underneath him, Five continued down her abdomen.

“That’s my good girl; nice and wet for Daddy,” he praised as he shoved his hand between her legs and pushed aside her panties, entering her with two fingers.

She let out a whimper as he immediately removed his fingers again, letting them slide up through her folds and onto her clit before taking them away completely. Without another word, Five grabbed her hips and flipped her over, pushing her upper body down with a hand between her shoulder blades and pulling her ass up and towards him. He gave her a hard smack and she clenched the sheet underneath her in her fists.

“Damn, this body of yours. You were just made to be fucked,” he hissed between clenched teeth as he spanked her again, just as hard.

Not even bothering to remove her thong, Five shoved it aside and slammed his cock into her, penetrating her in one hard thrust until he was deep inside. His fingers dug into the flesh on either side of her hips and he held her tightly against him while he groaned loudly from the feeling. Viv breathed in sharply, and Five paused to make sure she was still ok with everything.

“Are you doing ok, my love?” he asked before continuing to ruin her.

She nodded, lifting her head and glancing over her shoulder with a smile. “Go for it, Daddy. Make it hurt.”

“Fuck, I love you,” Five groaned, right before he pulled back and rammed into her again.

Her body pitched forward with each punishing thrust as Five fucked her fast and hard; her screams and moans getting louder the harder he pushed. A thin sheen of sweat was forming on his chest and face, his hair hanging over his eyes and sticking to his damp forehead. He knew he probably was hurting her a little, he was going at her so intensely, but he trusted her to let him know if it got to be too much. And so far, she just seemed to want more.

The tight, velvety walls that surrounded his rock-hard cock felt like heaven, and with each drive inside of her, the closer he got to his threshold.

“Vivie,” he said in between heaving breaths. “Oh fuck, you feel so good…ah, fuuuck!”

Five let himself go, coming inside of her with one last jerk of his hips against her ass, at the same time that her own intense orgasm ripped through her body, sending shivers and spasms throughout every muscle. Her loud cries and whimpers eventually died down and she let her body relax as Five pulled out.

He gave her a kiss on her shoulder before collapsing next to her on the bed. Viv lay on her stomach and turned her head to look at him, her hair tangled and covering half her face.

“Nice work there, Daddy,” she said with a grin.

Five laughed, even as he continued to try and catch his breath. “Thanks. Not so bad yourself.” He traced a finger lightly over her hip and over the thin string of the thong she was still wearing. “I don’t know where you got these, but holy shit, are you trying to kill me, woman?”

Viv laughed and buried her face in her pillow before looking back at him. “No, I am not trying to kill you. I just thought you might like them.”

Five pulled her to him, kissing her ravaged lips and smoothing down her wild hair. “I really, really fucking like them. I just hope you don’t get sick again from all of that activity. Maybe you overdid yourself.”

She settled in against him and kissed his still-damp chest. “Well, if I do, I know I’m in good hands. You always know how to take care of me, Five, in more ways than one.”

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bucketsofmonsters · 1 year ago

Text

Oliver

cw: under-negotiated kink, allusions to historical homophobia, blood drinking, biting, anal sex, handjobs, unprotected sex

male vampire x male human

Word count: 6k

a/n: This is technically a prequel to Vows but can absolutely be read on its own as a oneshot, it’s the story of how Oliver came to stay with Rook

Vows Masterlist

Six hours.

Six hours he’d been sitting outside this god-forsaken gate causing as much of a ruckus as he was humanly capable of causing.

And for six hours he’d been ignored.

He’d arrived at the sprawling mansion in the evening, a reasonable hour, set on talking to the man inside.

He’d heard so many things about him. Good things, at least to Oliver. The people who’d said it hadn’t been quite as well-intentioned,

They also told tales of blood-drinking and murder but he knew exactly how bad rumors could get about people with his inclination. He was willing to forgive a lot if it gave him a kindred soul.

However, he was unsure if he could forgive six hours.

He collapsed to the ground, drawing his knees up to his chest and clasping his hands under his thighs.

He’d be fine. That’s what he always told himself. It didn’t feel particularly true right now but it didn’t matter. He would tell himself that anyway.

He’d come with fairly high hopes, artificial or not. The gate had been locked with no way to signal to anyone inside that he was out here but he was a resourceful fellow.

It only took a few minutes of waiting before his patience crumbled.

It was fine. He’d just hop the fence.

As he tried to wrap his hands around the metal bars of the gate, his hand had crumpled, unable to fit in the wide gap between the bars.

He tried again on the next gap and once more, his hand was unable to pass through what looked like nothing but air.

Maybe the rumors of dark forces residing in this home weren’t so unfounded.

He refused to be deterred, grabbing a stick off the ground and jamming it through the gate. Still nothing, no way to get it through and try to pry it open.

Fine then. He took about twenty steps back, giving himself a good start, and then ran full force at the gate.

He slammed right into it, the gate not budging an inch. Oliver fared less well than the looming gate. His shoulder was sure to bruise. He just hoped that maybe it would bruise inside these walls.

He did the only thing he could think of to do. He started to shout. The yelling began with pleas to be let inside and requests for help but after the first hour of yelling, as his throat began to hoarsen, his words became a bit more vulgar.

The sun had long since set but he refused to go home, not after all this

Maybe he could annoy the people inside enough that someone would come out here and yell at him.

He could handle being rejected, but he should at least be able to plead his case first.

And maybe dart inside while they were doing so.

He just kept trying for as long as he could.

For.

Six.

Hours.

Surely even the strongest of wills would collapse in the cold night after no one had responded for so long, he couldn’t be blamed for this.

He fell to the ground, despair overtaking him. Even drawn into himself, conserving his heat as best he could, he felt so much colder than before.

He fell to his side, his cheek meeting wet dirt, leaves sticking to his face.

This was his last hope, his only real chance. He’d been delusional, thinking there was somewhere that would be safe that didn’t require him smothering himself.

He sniffled, not bothering to wipe at his nose as he wallowed on the ground.

No. He wouldn’t let it end like this. Getting up seemed like a monumental task but shouting didn’t. Shouting he could do. It was like his baseline now.

At this point, it was just vague cursing at the bastards inside more than a plea for help but shout he did.

And then the gate swung open, right into his side.

The man standing in the entryway looked sheepish, pulling the heavy gate back and away from Oliver. He looked like every cruel thing they’d said about him, with sharp, cold features, suspiciously perfectly tousled dark hair speckled with gray, and sickly pale skin. A pair of sharp fangs were revealed as he winced at the sight of Oliver being smacked with the gate.

Oliver sat up as quickly as he could, wiping at his face, trying to remove all the grime and dirt that had accumulated on his skin. He’d meant to look more appealing than this, or at least look more sane. But here he was, a grimy boy sitting in the mud after screaming his voice hoarse for six hours.

“Didn’t mean to hit you,” he said with a grimace.

“I hate you,” Oliver chimed back, his voice cracking as he spoke.

The man got even paler, if that was possible. “This may have been ill-advised.”

“You’re telling me.”

The man sighed, seeming upset over something, before kneeling down by Oliver’s side.

“Not you,” he said quietly. “You’re fine, you haven’t done anything wrong. Come on, let's get you inside.”

He sat up with a huff, in absolutely no mood to go anywhere with this man.

“You couldn’t have stopped a little sooner, could you?” His tone was light in a poorly practiced way, trying and failing to lift the mood of the conversation.

“Why, was I annoying you?” he asked, still sitting in the mud. He was sure he had leaves and dirt in his hair but trying to pick them out felt less dignified than just leaving them be.

“No, you just made me lose a bet.”

Oliver scrunched up his nose. The idea that this asshole had just been sitting inside betting on how long he’d wait out here angered him beyond belief.

“Sorry I wasn’t weak-willed enough for you, I’ll only scream at you for a couple of hours next time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He held out his hand to help Oliver up. “I’m Rook.”

He stood on his own, giving Rook a suspicious look. “I don’t think I’m supposed to tell strange men my name. You’ll steal my soul or something.”

“If I wanted your soul so badly, I wouldn’t have taken six hours.”

Rook had apparently decided that they’d moved past the incident enough to joke about it. Oliver disagreed.

Oliver stood across from him, arms crossed, unimpressed. All this time he’d been waiting to be let inside and now he wasn’t so sure he wanted to go.

Well, he did want to. He just didn’t want to give this man the satisfaction.

“Come on in, it’s cold out here,” Rook said, not privy to Oliver’s internal struggle. He had a grand sort of voice, one that screamed he thought he was better than everyone.

Oliver wanted to attack him.

His eyebrows furrowed with a huff. “Is it? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Come on, I’ll apologize inside. I can’t start groveling until I’ve rectified my mistake by letting you in.”

That sounded more like it.

“Alright, but if there’s no groveling I just might start screaming again.”

“Good, I think I might deserve it,” he said, quiet enough that Oliver was pretty sure he wasn’t meant to hear it. But he was good at hearing things, great at it even. He always thought he’d make a good spy if only he could keep his mouth shut for long enough.

Oliver followed him inside, silently cursing the gates as he walked through them.

The castle grew no less imposing as he got closer to it. The front doors were massive, looming things and Oliver decided he might honestly prefer the gates. At least with them he could see what was on the other side.

The doors swung open, despite the fact that Oliver could see no one who’d opened them. He considered congratulating Rook on the cheap magic trick but was worried he might think he was being genuine.

“I told you he’d wait,” a man's voice called as he stepped inside the doors, them swinging shut once more behind him.

Rook went to take his jacket and Oliver made sure to get as much mud on him in the process as he possibly could. He winced but allowed it to happen as mud smeared down his perfectly fitted clothes.

“How’d you know?” Rook responded, hanging the tattered, dirty jacket up with his arm fully extended, like he was half convinced it had fleas.

“I would’ve,” the man responded.

“Would’ve?” Oliver asked, turning to see an older man who looked decidedly less harsh and cold than Rook did. “So you didn’t make him wait outside for six hours.”

“He wasn’t trying to break in and cursing me out on my front lawn.”

“I only did that because you made me wait!”

“You tried to scale that fence after ten minutes.”

Okay, so maybe he should’ve waited longer before getting quite so antagonistic. Not that he’d ever admit it.

Rook ushered Oliver into a nearby room, trying to send the older man away with a hushed, “You don’t need to be here, Petyr, I can handle this.”

“No, please,” Oliver called back. “Let him stay.”

As they both shuffled in and sat, Rook in the biggest chair sitting behind the desk and Petyr in one of the smaller chairs near Oliver, he scanned the room for weapons, just in case. He took note of a nearby letter opener, angling himself so he’d be ready to reach for it if he needed to.

“So, may I have your name now?” Rook asked from behind the desk, handing some papers over to Petyr as he spoke.

Oliver tried to read the papers as they passed but couldn’t quite manage it. “You may not.”

“Alright, that’s fine. There will be time for that. Well then, why are you here?”

“I don’t know, maybe I got curious. They say lots of things about you, you know. They say people come in and they don’t come out,” Oliver lowered his voice conspiratorily as he spoke.

“And yet here you are.”

“Maybe I just don’t value my life,” he said with a shrug.

“Do you?”

“That’s none of your business,” he snapped.

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Rook said, looking amused yet almost a little frightened of Oliver.

Good.

“I had a whole speech prepared you know,” he said, still scowling.

Rook leaned back in his chair. “I’m listening.”

Oliver shifted back and forth, feeling inspected under Rook’s gaze. “Doesn’t really feel like the right time for a heartfelt speech.”

That got half a smile out of Rook, amusement shining in his eyes. “No, it doesn’t, does it? You can just pick a room, they’re mostly bedrooms and they’re almost all empty.”

“What?”

“That is what you wanted, isn’t it? To stay here?”

“But… you’re just going to let me? Don’t I have to grovel or something?”

“I think you’ll remember I’m the one who was supposed to be groveling here.”

“I do. And yet there you are, no groveling to be seen.”

Rook laughed and Oliver had half a mind to inform him that he was, in fact, not joking, but he was a little worried he might be pushing his luck.

Rook stood and paced out of the room, looking behind him towards Oliver. “You coming?”

Oliver’s eyes darted between Petyr and Rook before deciding that he was willing to risk being alone with him and running to catch up with Rook.

“Alright, pick a room.”

“Any room?”

He nodded. “Whichever you’d like. Now, I have to go speak with someone, have fun choosing one.”

There were seemingly endless doors, a whole castle's worth of rooms to choose from. But he was uninterested in them. Instead, he went in the direction Rook had gone, ears straining to try and figure out where he’d left to.

When he approached the office from before, he heard muffled voices and decided quickly to sit on the ground and push his ear against the old wood.

Rook’s voice echoed through the door clearly enough, having already started a conversation.

“...a bit unpleasant. Bad attitude and absolutely no manners at all. And he’s not as cute as he thinks he is

Oliver scoffed quietly at the words, having half a mind to storm in there and show him just how bad his attitude could really be. He wasn’t even sure why he cared what this guy thought. In the short time he'd known him, all he’d been was rude, abrasive, and worst of all, he was apologetic about it. One second he was being an asshole and the next second he had that awful sorry look on his face that only served to make Oliver want to smack him.

Despite all of this, he leaned against the door, fuming as he eavesdropped. “Worst of all,” Rook said, “he’s nosy.” As the words left his mouth, the steady wood Oliver had been leaning on fell out from under him, leaving him exposed and tumbling to the ground.

Neither of the men seemed surprised by his sudden appearance and he couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was them putting on a show for him. He decided to believe it was most of it, for his own sanity.

“Clearly I couldn’t pick any room,” he said from his less than dignified spot on the floor.

Rook looked around at the small study. “I mean, if you want it that badly, you can sleep in here. The desk might be a bit uncomfortable but to each their own.

“I don’t want it anymore. Not after you slandered me in here.”

“Are you really trying for the moral high ground? In your position?” Rook said, looking down at him still sprawled across the floor.

Oliver jumped to his feet, brushing off his already filthy clothes.

He stormed off, set on finding somewhere to clean himself where he could get away from these assholes.

Picking a room was not nearly as exciting as Oliver had hoped. Almost every room in this place looked identical, similar layout and beds and sheets. All beautiful and expensive, but none interesting.

He found some unfortunately empty baths but with no idea how to fill them, other than asking for help, he opted instead to dump a pitcher of water over his head, hoping it got most of his grime off.

As he wandered, sopping wet and bored, he wasn’t checking the rooms anymore. Not really. Because the house had quieted down as the sun rose and Oliver had a more interesting target in mind.

He threw open door after door, revealing boring room after boring room until behind one door, he found his less-than-gracious host.

Rook looked up from where he was lying in his bed, decidedly more surprised at his sudden appearance this time, and Oliver felt himself puff up a little with pride.

“What are you doing here,” he asked as he evaluated Oliver in his doorway.

“I mean, you did say any room.”

“Have you been entering every room in this house until you found mine so you could bother me?”

Oliver averted his gaze. “No.”

“Right. Just browsing then?”

“Exactly.”

Rook chuckled and Oliver could see his fangs poking out, a reminder of how dangerous this could be. “What do you think of this one?”

He was playing mind games, that much was obvious. And Oliver would not let him win.

“I really like it. I think I’ll choose this one.”

It was a dangerous play, he knew that. Trying to aggravate him like this.

He’d keep doing it anyway.

“Right. Well, I guess I’ll have to go find another one,” Rook said, standing up from his comfortable spot on his lavish bed.

Oliver reeled back. “What?”

Rook shuffled out of bed and past him in the doorway. “Goodnight, enjoy your room.”

And then, without so much as another word, he was gone and Oliver was left stupified.

He’d taken his room, did that mean he won? It didn’t feel like he’d won. In fact, it felt very much like he’d lost that particular interaction.

He looked at the now empty room, signs of life scattered haphazardly around. The clothes he’d seen him in a few hours ago were folded neatly in a basket in the corner.

Only then did he think about what Rook had been wearing. A loose-fitting silk shirt draped across his chest, the smooth fabric laying perfectly against his skin. It looked soft. Oliver pushed the unbidden thought violently from his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking like that. That was how you lost.

The blankets were a mess, a dip in the mattress where Rook had been moments before

Oliver climbed in, set on sleeping in here. Anything else would be a sign of weakness, he was certain of that much.

A woody smell overtook him at first, with notes of something sweet following behind. It was a pleasant combination and as he chased the smell, he found a mug with a mahogany liquid inside.

As he got closer, taking a better sniff of the steam floating up from the mug, he noticed a sharp coppery smell undercutting the sweet, chocolatey scent.

He grabbed the warm drink, taking a sip to confirm it to himself. He winced a little as the taste of blood and chocolate filled his mouth.

He set it back down, filing the information away for later as he settled into the massive, lonely bed, feigning sleep for at least a few hours.

When he was tired of pretending he would get any rest that night, he got up once more, set on finding something to do with himself.

He settled upon what he was planning on doing the second he saw Rook, sitting peacefully at a table all alone.

His peace was swiftly broken as Oliver barrelled in, saying, “Strange drink you had in your room last night.”

Rook paled to an impossibly lighter shade than he already was and Oliver took it as a sign to keep pushing. “I’m not one for pairing blood and chocolate but maybe it’s an acquired taste.”

“I forgot that was in there,” he said quietly and Oliver almost felt bad. Almost.

“So you do drink blood?”

Rook looked at him like he was an idiot. “Did you not know? I assumed…”

“I mean, they said you killed and ate people but they said a lot of stuff. About you and me. I know better than to believe everything they say about someone. The mug of blood was pretty damning though. Regardless, you haven’t eaten me yet so things could’ve gone worse.”

“No, I don’t kill people. Eat people?” He tilted his head as he considered it. “I suppose you could call it that. You could call me a monster for it if you wanted to, but they don’t tend to mind.”

He said it with a crooked smile, head resting on his hand like he was trying to look casual, but it was too stilted. There was a tension throughout him, a sense of worry behind the dangerous flirtation he was attempting.

“Are you coming onto me?” he asked incredulously and Rook’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his chest.

And then his head dropped to the table in front of him, a look of despair passing over him.

“I swear I’m good at this,” he said as he lifted his head, his hair shifting from an intentionally fluffed mess to a true disaster, pieces sticking straight up awkwardly, held in place by whatever product he put in it. “I can flirt with most people, or at least figure out when they’re not interested, but god, you’re impossible.”

“I am not.”

“You are!” he said with a laugh. “I haven’t been able to have one decent interaction with you. Every time I try you ruin it.”

“I ruin it?” Oliver gasped, outraged. “Excuse you, I have done nothing wrong. You left me out in the cold, you insulted me, you keep playing these weird games.”

Rook looked at him sheepishly. “I swear I meant it in a fun way. Always in a fun way.”

“Well, I’m not having fun.”

Rook cocked his head to the side, looking Oliver up and down. “Aren’t you? One second I agree and I decide to stop but you keep pushing me right back into them. You’re furious when I play and indignant when I stop. What’s left for me to do?”

“Well, maybe you’re not playing right.”

“And how do you want to play,” Rook asked, his voice low as he leaned towards Oliver.

No. Not that. It was too real when he did that.

He turned heel and ran. Through the hallways, feet moving faster than his racing mind.

He didn’t know if he was running to get away or to be chased. He doubted Rook did either.

He went back to his room. Rook’s room. Someone’s room. He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

Unfortunately, once he reached Rook’s room, he was alone with his thoughts, his least favorite place to be.

Dozens of feelings washed over him in the silence, almost all of them unwanted. The anger he was fine with, the doubt acceptable. His want he could take or leave. The fondness that washed over him, the anxiety, those were unacceptable.

A knock at the door pulled him from his mind and if it weren’t for the familiar voice that followed, he might have appreciated the distraction.

“Can I come in?” Rook called.

“I mean, it’s your room. Or… hold on, is that a vampire thing? I’ve heard that’s a vampire thing. If it’s a vampire thing then no, you’re forbidden from ever entering.”

Rook seemed lost. “It’s not a vampire thing. So I can come in?”

“Yeah. That’s what I said.”

“Right.” He stepped cautiously through the door. “I’m here to apologize.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes. It was a trap. It had to be. “No, you’re not.”

Rook held his hands up in surrender. “I am. I think I have handled this poorly. So, I’m sorry, and I’m here to say it’s in your hands now.”

“What?”

“I won’t push any longer. If you want anything to happen, to start anything, you must do it yourself. I’m done.”

Oliver felt his face fall and Rook watched him in quiet amusement. “Come now,” he said, moving to rest his hand on Oliver’s back and then seemly remembering what he’d just said and pulling away. “Is this not what you wanted?”

Oliver narrowed his eyes again. It was another game. Declaring that he’d play no more games with him was in itself a game. It was untenable. It was indefensible. It was a shocking relief.

“Right,” Oliver said, scoffing. “I’m sure.”

“I mean it. I’m afraid I prioritized my fun over you feeling safe here. It’s in your hands now.”

Oliver stared, baffled, as Rook gave him a patient smile, stood up, and walked towards the door. His own bedroom door, one he’d given up to Oliver on a whim.

“Wait,” he called, and Rook stopped, his hand inches away from the door handle.

“Yes?”

“You drink blood.”

The confused look he’d gotten the last time he’d discussed this was nothing compared to the look of befuddlement and concern that crossed his face this time.

“We had this conversation not moments ago, surely you can’t have forgotten already.”

Oliver scowled at him and Rook at least had the good sense to try and hide the smile the look pulled from him. “Who’s blood?”

“Petyr and Beatris’s mostly. You’ll meet her soon. Animals when I need some extra.”

“Do you want to drink mine?” Oliver asked, trying his best to look disinterested.

“What are you asking?”

“I said,” he responded, raising his voice before Rook raised a hand to stop him.

“No, what are you really asking.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes. “Not everyone speaks in riddles.”

A huff of laughter escaped Rook. “No, they most certainly don’t. You do, though.”

He decided to ignore that comment. “Does it hurt?”

“That’s not what you want to ask.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what I want to ask, just answer the question.”

“I don’t think I will. Do you want it to hurt?”

Oliver smiled. “Just a little.”

Rook paced over towards the bed, leaning down over him.

“I can do that,” he said, his voice low.

It would take a lot more than that to shut Oliver up.

“How often do you need to drink?”

“Couple times a week. Do you always ask this many questions?”

“No. How often do you take from them?”

“As often as they’d like me to. Within reason. Sometimes you humans get greedy. Someone has to look out for you.

Rook pushed forward again, moving to crawl over him before Oliver pulled back, hissing out a quiet, “Wait.”

He stopped immediately, concern overwriting everything else. “What? Are you alright?”

Oliver spoke softly, a horrible twinge of vulnerability present in his voice. “Is this really okay? Because the flirting is all well and good but sometimes… You’re just not going to freak out after, right? They always freak out after.”

Rook reached out, cupping his face in his hands and it took everything he had not to pull away, like the affection burned him. “You know you’re not the first man I’ve slept with, right?”

Oliver scoffed, his bravado falling back into place. “Right, of course. Silly of me to ask.”

“Stop that, listen to me. You came here for a reason. They were right about me, I am a monster, but I take care of my own. No matter what. Besides, who would I be to judge you?”

Oliver laughed a sad little laugh. “Yeah, you’re right, you’re a real freak. Unlike me.”

“Be careful not to insult me too hard, what would that say about you?” Rook gave his hand a gentle squeeze but his words were still playful. Oliver appreciated it. Too much affection and he was afraid he might make a run for it again.

“I’d rather have bad taste in men than whatever you’ve got going on.”

Rook rolled his eyes. “Are you trying to make me angry?”

“Yes.”

It came out much breathier than Oliver had meant it to but it certainly got Rook’s attention.

“Which first?” The words were tense and Oliver could feel his ego inflate at how he was clearly affecting the man.

Oliver tilted his head, at first in consideration and then to expose his neck. “Come on, show me just how much of a freak you are.”

Rook took his time, his hands rising to thread through Oliver’s hair and pull his head back as he moved beside him.

Impatience began to well up in Oliver’s chest as Rook pressed a gentle kiss into his pulse point before burying his nose into his neck, still no sign of those fangs that Oliver couldn’t help but eye when he spoke.

An impatient whine got him nothing other than a quick laugh, squirming as it pushed a puff of cold air against his neck.

Rook held him in place as he shifted, not letting him move from the position he’d put Oliver in.

And then, with no warning, he felt the sharp pain of two fangs piercing his skin.

They were gone almost as soon as they had come, leaving two seeping holes in his neck. He relaxed as Rook lapped at them, the teasing long gone. All of Rook’s attention was now firmly directed on the warm liquid flowing out of him.

It left him almost pleasantly numb, the feeling of his warmth leaving him and flooding into the other man almost calming.

More than the pain, he began to feel cold. A numbness spread to the tips of his fingers as Rook pulled away from his neck. He flexed his fingers as they suddenly became fascinating to him, feeling cold and foreign to his woozy mind.

He hadn’t even realized Rook had left until a bandage was being attached to his neck.

Immediately his attention shifted to the other man. He was wearing altogether too many clothes, Oliver decided. They both were.

He moved up to pull at Rook’s shirt, unbuttoning the first few buttons and beginning to impatiently tug it down his shoulders.

Rook watched him, amusement shining in his eyes. He made no move to help Oliver’s attempt to undress them.

“You did so well. You know, my favorite part,” Rook said, in that low voice that irritated Oliver endlessly, “is always the trust.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Can you just shut up,” he said as he crashed their lips together, promptly silencing Rook.

He finished tugging off Rook’s shirt as they kissed, a familiar hint of copper invading his mouth as they did.

He had to pry Rook’s arms away from his face in order to do so. They rose right back up moments after, his hands threaded into Oliver’s hair, holding him close. Even as the kiss ended he kept their faces pressed together, noses touching, a hint of a smile on his face.

He pressed a kiss onto the tip of his nose and Oliver fought the urge to roll his eyes and the urge to smile simultaneously.

And then Rook pulled away from him and instead of whining, like he so desperately wanted to, he took the opportunity to undress, making quick work of his clothes.

When he turned back, Rook had a bottle of some sort of oil in his hands and Oliver snorted. “Someone came prepared.”

“It was my room,” he said as he tugged Oliver closer. “Now, any preferences?”

He looked up at Oliver expectantly and he quickly answered, “If you don’t fuck me soon, I’m going to bite you.”

Rook laughed as he coated his fingers in the oil. “I think we should leave the biting to me.”

As if.

He pushed Oliver onto his back, looming over him as he sunk one finger inside of him.

Oliver sighed. He needed more but he loved it, the feeling of being filled for the first time after being empty.

That contentedness did not last. Barely a minute passed before Oliver was whining for a second finger, one Rook gave him easily, slowly pushing inside him.

He smiled down at Oliver, a sickeningly sweet look on his face. “You’re so eager,” he said, and if Oliver wasn’t certain it would slow down this already devastatingly slow process, he would’ve said something rude.

Instead, he opted to ask, “Can you hurry up?”

“I’m not done,” he said.

Oliver pouted. “Come on. It’s no fun if it doesn’t hurt a little.”

Rook rolled his eyes but gave in, lining up with Oliver’s hole and slowly, torturously slowly, began to push in.

He was slick with oil and thick and just too slow. It was going to drive Oliver crazy.

So he took matters into his own hands. His legs wrapped around Rook’s hips, locking around them and pulling them flush with him, sighing as he was filled completely.

Rook's hand rose to his jaw, forcing him to look him in the eye. “You are an impatient little thing, aren’t you,” he said as he rocked slowly back and forth.

He was too careful with him. Oliver didn’t want careful.

So instead he pulled him close, Rook’s cold chest lowering to rest against Oliver’s.

And then, with this newfound closeness, Oliver bit him, his teeth digging into his shoulder.

Rook hissed and snapped his hip again, twice as hard as before. “You little bastard.”

He pulled out and before Oliver had the chance to whine and complain and make him regret leaving, he was being spun around and pushed face-first into the mattress, Rook’s cock sliding inside him once again.

He began to calm as Rook's pace got harsher. He was much more docile when he was getting what he wanted.

Part of him worried he might be drooling, his dick getting just a little friction against the sheets with every sharp thrust.

Rook’s hands were gripping his hips, almost hard enough to bruise. He could feel the man’s lost control and couldn’t help but grin, letting out soft moans at every punishing thrust.

Rook groaned out, “Fuck, I’m gonna…” He was too far gone to finish his sentence and Oliver basked in it.

Oliver lifted his hips up to meet his thrusts as best he could and while it may not have been the best effort he’d ever put forth, the sight alone seemed to be enough to push Rook over the edge, burying himself deep inside Oliver as he came.

He winced a little as he pulled out, clearly sensitive, and Oliver laughed.

“You’re so bad at this,” he drawled, his brain still left fuzzy. “I didn’t even come. Selfish man.”

Rook chuckled as he sat back against the headboard, pulling Oliver’s back flush with his chest, arms wrapping around him. He pressed a kiss to his neck, right on top of the bandage, and lazily wrapped his hand around Oliver’s dick.

His hand, still slick from before, felt incredible against Oliver. He couldn’t help but wish he was still being filled, the cum slowly dripping onto him onto the now ruined sheets a reminder of how empty he felt.

But Rook was in no rush and his steady, sure movements brought Oliver closer and closer.

He couldn’t remember the last time someone had been this gentle with him. He wasn’t sure if anyone had ever been. It brought this horrible, queasy feeling to his stomach.

As Rook pushed on, pumping Oliver with one hand while rubbing reassuring circles into his chest with the other, it all became too much. He bucked his hips up into Rook’s hand, letting out a whine that sounded pathetic, even to him. He threw his head back, cum spilling out of him and dripping down, over Rook’s hand and onto his sheets. Someone’s sheets. He still wasn’t sure.

“Who’s room even is this?” he slurred out and he snuggled back into Rook’s embrace, uncaring as to the mess they found themselves in.

He laughed. “Maybe we can share it.”

Oliver huffed as Rook’s clean hand rose to play with his hair, his mind beginning to drift off at the gentle touch. “I’m sure we can come up with some sort of arrangement.”

#terato #vampire #vampire x human #monster x human #vampire oc #vampire boyfriend #vampire bf #vows #I love their dynamic #Rook desperately wants people to think he’s a weird fucked up guy #Oliver is actually a weird fucked up guy and he does it Effortlessly #For the record it takes Oliver weeks to even tell Rook his name #It drives Rook crazy and Oliver thinks its hilarious #The Viv prequel will also come someday #Judging by how long this one took me I make no promises on when though

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