#So he's like trying to mentor this pathetic baby vampire

[majorxmaggiexboy]

rating my Muses by whether they would survive Dracula:

Ben: slim chance of survival. Would initially have glitter eyes at drac and would be devastated at the slow realization that Something's Up but would become determined to make it a problem for all involved. Dies if he meets the brides because his dumb ass would NOT believe they aren't prisoners and would die trying to rescue them while they're stabbing him to death with glittery sillystraws. If he can get out of the castle his chances improve but he's still on thin ice because he WILL be going right back in the castle trying to save everybody from Drac, but he's NOT stupid enough to do it alone. Just might survive but will absolutely lose at least one friend in the process. 5/10

Amicia: Survival Guaranteed. Not only would she realize Drac's a monster as soon as he survives for more than two hours after being kind to her and Hugo, but Amicia would also not be trying to stick around. She's grabbing her brother and the bread sticks and trying to GTFO. The villagers are on they own unless absolutely necessary. Would beat the snow out of the Brides if they even look at Hugo. On the off chance somebody does get one over on her, Hugo will drown them in rats. These kids are golden. 10/10

Gamble: 50/50 survival odds. The vampires don't get him but no less than ten villagers and van Helsing want him dead for reasons that might or might not have a damn thing to do with vampires. 8/10 because he will not only leave others to die but will also actively attempt to get other people killed by the vampires if he thinks it'll improve his escape chances or just be kinda funny

D'Artagnan: no chance because you know those kids on ao3 going to replace Drac with all three musketeers AND rochefort and Milady will also be around somewhere. Boy might as well call up mordaunt for the funeral smh we don't go here.

Bonus, Battinson: I'm only including him bc first of all it'd be his house that Harker sells to Drac and Alfred would be like Well Mr Wayne Nobody Believed Me When I Said The House Wasn't Vacant no but also dracula would look at him and either think Wow I Can't Actually Compete. You Funky Little Vampire. Or he'd just go damn this dudes miserable enough lol and just leave.

[prettyfunkyunorganized]

Daughter Series - Monster Hunter McCree AU

Maybe it’s rather silly of me to write an AU with a character I’ve only recently introduced, but this was a lot of fun to write! No regrets :) 

This is inspired by McCree and Reaper’s Halloween skins from this year that I loved. Ended up being 3,600ish words. Put a break in the middle. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

More Daughter Series:  Hanzo, McCree, Reaper, Soldier 76, Genji, Roadhog

Halloween Daughter Series: Roadhog, McCree, Genji, Reaper

After years of trailing, searching, and tracking, McCree felt as if he was finally closing in on his prey. Or perhaps it was just wishful thinking. Again. He had this feeling back in Liverpool and before that in New York, but nothing had come of it. Reaper continued to elude him, over and over.

“Damn vampire piece of shit,” the hunter hissed, rolling another cigarette. “I chased him all the way back home to the US just to turn right around and head back to this rainy shit hole.” London always made him cranky. He took a long drag and rubbed his temple. “There was another drained body here this morning,” McCree assured himself, “he must be close. He must be.”

He pulled his long coat tighter around his cold shoulders with a sigh, watching and listening. It was dark, but his highly trained eyes had no trouble scanning the streets. All he needed was a flash of movement, something darting by too fast, a rustle in the darkness – any sort of sign. He was getting restless. He needed a chase. Some action.

“Come on,” he growled after an hour of roaming with eyes peeled, “where are you?!”

There was a rustling sound behind him, and McCree grinned. He whipped out his gun, swiveled on his heels, and fired a bevy of shots at the figure. Then he realized the silhouette was too small to be Reaper’s. His stomach dropped as the body fell to the ground with a whimper. He’d always been too hasty, his mentors had told him that a thousand times. “One of these days you’re going to put a bullet in something that doesn’t deserve one!” He’d finally done it - to something in a tattered blue dress and a thin cloak.

“Oh God,” he sputtered kneeling beside her. “Miss? Miss?! Are you alright? Ah shit, please don’t be dead! Imma get you some help, ya hear? Just hold on!”

She grabbed his arm as he tried to stand up, pulling him back. She was strong. Too strong. There was another one of his bad habits biting him in the ass: he was too gullible when it came to women. “One of these days you’re going to let something bat a pair of pretty lashes at you and slit your throat.” His mentors were right again. Mostly. He saw her sickly red eyes and pointed teeth just before she lunged.

Much to McCree’s surprise, he awoke. Sore and confused, but alive. Wherever he was, it was dark and musty, making his nose crinkle at the mildewy smell. Dust coated his cheek as he sat up from the cold wooden floor.

“Son of a bitch,” he whined quietly, rubbing the bump on his head, “where did that little monster drag me? And where the hell is my hat?”

A low, sneering chuckle hit his ears as his hat drifted into the light, swaying back and forth teasingly. He recognized that pitch black glove and the elegant red cuff surrounding it.

“Reaper,” the hunter snarled, “not like you to let a little girl do your dirty work.”

The vampire laughed again, sauntering into the light. “What can I say – I wanted to test my new fledgling. And my, my did she impress! Pretty thing hauled your unconscious body back here less than an hour after I sent her out.” He sat down on a fraying velvet couch in front of McCree, lounging as if he didn’t have a care in the world after tossing the hunter’s hat flippantly to the side. “I will have to give her quite the reward.”  

“You gonna feed her a baby or something,” grumbled McCree as he traced his fingers across his belt. His gun was gone, his crossbow was gone, the sharpened stakes were gone. Even the dagger in his boot had been taken.  

“A baby,” Reaper scoffed, “that’s hardly a meal for a growing girl. I was thinking something a little more . . . personal.” His voice was suddenly sultry, and McCree instantly recoiled in disgust.

“That was very rude,” his captor scolded, “you’ll damage the girl’s pride! The way I hear it, you’re quite the Don Juan, but just rumors I suppose.”

“Oh I do just fine with the ladies, and I don’t even have to kill ‘em or hypnotize ‘em to do it,” McCree barked back. “Probably has something to do with the fact that I don’t wear a menacing mask or eat people.”

“Says the man with spurs and silver-tipped spikes on his metal arm. Glad you found a replacement, by the way – makes you a much more worthy adversary. More fun to toy with.”

“Or you could have not torn it off in the first place,” McCree fumed.

“Where’s the fun in that,” Reaper said swinging his legs onto the floor. The satin lining of his long overcoat glimmered in the candlelight – red and smooth and somehow ominous. His blood would glint like that when the beast finally got around to killing him.

“You are having fun, aren’t you,” the hunter asked sarcastically. “How much longer are you going to drag this out? There’s a lot of other shit I could be getting done right now.”

Reaper snorted. “Like what? For over a decade all you’ve been doing, day in and day out, is searching for me.” He stood and walked to McCree, stopping inches away from him. The hunter tried to lean away, but the vampire grabbed his chin and pulled him closer. “I am all you care about. I am all you think of. I am all you want, aren’t I?”

“No,” McCree automatically objected, but he could feel his face go hot. The truth in those words stung.

“Tell me the truth,” Reaper’s voice boomed. McCree’s vision went bleary as the overwhelming power of the elder vampire crawled its way into his mind. He had to obey, despite all the training he’d endured. Reaper was too old, too skilled.

“Yes,” the hunter admitted breathlessly.

“Say it,” Reaper demanded smugly.

“All I want is to kill you.” His own voice echoed in his head, bouncing about and rattling all the shame out of its hiding spots.

“You don’t even care about your order’s mission anymore, do you? ‘To seek all evil, to destroy all beasts, to protect all humanity.’ You could have killed a hundred of my kind in the past ten odd years, but no, you always come scampering back to me. Isn’t that right, Master Hunter?”

“Yes.” He hadn’t checked in with his superiors in ages. When they didn’t support his obsession, McCree branched out on his own.

“Tell me, boy, are you happy, chasing me all over the world always one step behind?”

“No.”

“Does anything make you happy?”

“The thought of killing you.”

“But of course,” Reaper sighed. “How predictable. You haven’t thought this through, though, my American friend.” The vampire kneeled down, the pointed edges of his mask much too close to the hunter’s face. “If you kill me,” he continued, “you’ll have nothing left! No prey, no purpose, nothing.”

The realization hit him like a punch in the gut. Damned bloodsucker was right, completely and utterly right.

“Judging by the paleness of your skin and the thumping of your heart, you know I’m correct, don’t you, McCree?” His kidnapper sounded so smug it hurt, but at least he was pleased enough to release his captive from the mind control.

The hunter was left reeling. It felt like some sort of awful combination of a hangover and a migraine was hammering into his skull. He sat there on the floor, curled over and panting as Reaper’s words seeped into his bones, filling him with dread and humiliation. He’d let this thing take over his life. He used to be a man – maybe not a good man – but a man with his own goals and desires and ambitions. Now? Now he was a plaything. A puppet for a fanged freak.

“Aw, poor little hunter,” Reaper cooed cruelly, “someone tear down your whole world?”

McCree glared up at him. “Fuck you.”

The vampire burst out laughing, his entire figure shaking with twisted joy. “You are a delight! All full of useless bluster and pathetic angst. And I’m not even finished yet! I’ve one more surprise for you ‘partner.’”

Hearing the old, undead man fake a Southern accent was strangely unsettling. A shiver ran up the hunter’s spine. “Oh goodie,” McCree mumbled, trying to be tough. He sure didn’t’ feel that way.

“One more question, then your treat,” Reaper promised like he was talking to a dog. “Answer me this: do you have any hope left? Any at all? You’ve failed to kill me, even after all this time, and now you know if you kill me, your life is pointless. Seems rather hopeless to me.”

“What does it matter,” McCree said with an angry huff.

“I told you to answer me.” Reaper rose from his bended knee, undoubtedly glaring down at his captive. “Do you want me to put you under again?”

He did not want that. Christ almighty he didn’t want that! His head was still throbbing.

Before he could come up with a witty reply, McCree was buckling over and writhing in pain. Evidently, Reaper had no patience. As the kidnapper man screamed and twitched on the ground, the question blared in his ears. “Do you have any hope? Any at all?” It was like a massive gong, sending agonizing vibrations into every fiber of his being.

“For fuck’s sake, no! I don’t have any hope,” McCree all but sobbed. “None! I don’t have a single fucking thing to live for anymore! Nothing!”

And the pain was gone, leaving the hunter in a panting, sweaty pile. He’d given in so fast. He disgusted himself.

“Not a ‘single fucking thing to live for,’ you say,” Reaper mused. “Wonderful!”

McCree wanted to smack the smarmy vampire right out of his fancy boots, but what good would it do? Reaper would probably just laugh at him, call him ‘cute,’ or some shit. The hunter had been defeated, once and for all. He was empty and ready to die, even if it was at the hands of this monstrosity.

“Chin up, cowboy,” Reaper sang, “time for your reward! A little something to perk you back up, now that you’re at your lowest.” He picked McCree up by his neck effortlessly, forcing the man to his feet. “My lovely little fledgling, time to come out!”

The girl that had attacked him tentatively stepped into view, head bowed and hands trembling. She looked disheveled, especially next to her master. Her clothing was torn in a number of places and her shawl was hanging on by threads. The shoes covering her feet had visible holes, and dirt smears were splattered all over her body. It would have been depressing if not for the blood on her chest and arms. McCree scowled at her. Her fingers were still stained red from her last sloppy feeding.

“Eyes forward, my dear, you are a fearsome creature of the night! Act like it,” Reaper said waving the young woman closer.

She tilted her head up when told revealing high cheekbones and deep-set eyes. Her hair was matted with dried sinew and what seemed like weeks of inattention. McCree should have found her repulsive, sickening, but she looked so . . . scared. Her red eyes darted between the hunter and Reaper as her slender figure twitched erratically. Something was wrong with her.

Reaper wrapped his arm around his prisoner as if they were longtime friends, speaking in a chipper tone unbefitting of someone who burned villages out of boredom. “Master Hunter Jesse McCree, venerated member of the murderous Van Helsing Order, I would like you to meet your daughter, Juniper.”

McCree’s head flinched back, shooting Reaper a confused look. The vampire just laughed. “Don’t believe me,” he asked smugly. “Just picture the little dear with brown eyes the same color as yours, and that long brown hair tied back in a ribbon, just like yours. Not seeing it yet?”

He could see the resemblance, but the denial was still holding on tightly.

The vampire let out an exasperated moan, “Fine then, look at the freckles. Remind you of anyone? Perhaps a certain redheaded innkeeper’s daughter? From your homeland? One who liked to tell tales about the local history and ‘The Great Werewolf Hoard?’ Ringing any bells?”

“Ho fuck,” the hunter gulped before he could stop himself. He remembered that woman – her stories, her kind smile, her nose. This frightened newborn vampire had that same nose.

With an almost deafening laugh, Reaper shook the hunter’s shoulders like he’d just delivered a hilarious punchline. “You should see the look on your unshaven mug! All of a sudden all the work I’ve put into this reunion is worth all the trouble,” the masked man sighed contentedly. “She’s a cute little beastie, isn’t she?”

“She’s a monster,” McCree said quietly, trying to convince himself as much as Reaper. “Whatever she was before, now she’s just one more creature I gotta put down.”

“Oh,” the elder vampire said finally removing his arm from McCree, “is that so?” His mischievous tone made the other’s man’s stomach flop. “You don’t feel anything for her? No regret? No sympathy? No tenderness?”

“No,” the hunter grunted uncomfortably.

Reaper hummed curiously before shrugging and grabbing the young woman’s wrist. The girl’s eyes widened and she let out a pitiful noise as her master pulled her into a headlock. “I suppose if I can’t torture you with her, Juniper here has no use.” With an overly dramatic flourish, the undead man produced a wooden stake and threw his arm back, ready to strike. His fist came barreling toward her chest.

“Don’t!” McCree’s hands grabbed Reaper’s a fraction of a second before the mahogany pierced Juniper’s heart. The hunter had never been so terrified in all his life. He didn’t want to watch her die. He should have wanted to kill her, but he didn’t. Couldn’t.

“That’s what I thought,” Reaper crooned in a voice so low it could rattle a man’s innards. “We’ve been doing this dance a long time, master hunter, and I believe I’ve come to know you quite well. You’re a simple man with simple desires – so simple it’s a bit sad. You want love, McCree, plain and simple. That’s why you’re always so good to women you woo, why you always give your last few coppers to the gutter-rat children in the streets, why you spend your evenings happily listening to old men in bars blather about their past. And here’s your chance!” He let Juniper out from under his grasp, instead holding her by the waist, their bodies pressed together at the hip. “You have a child, McCree! A girl, at that! Someone to dote upon and dress in frills. Someone who will look up to you and hold you tight. Your very own family, small, but pure.”

The vampire’s gloved fingers began to snake up Juniper’s torso, massaging her tender flesh. She stood there, letting him do it, but stared at the hunter, desperately. Rage began to boil in the hunter’s core. Reaper’s hand groped the young woman’s breasts.

“You have a daughter, McCree, and she’s all mine!”

“You fucking – ” He lunged at the creature, knowing it was futile, but he didn’t care. If it meant the bastard stopped touching Juniper, it was worth it, but the hunter’s stolen gun was suddenly pointed right between his eyes.

“Ah, ah, ah, my boy! Not so fast.” Reaper turned the gun to press against the young woman’s ear. “Violence begets violence, you know.”

McCree took a step back, arms in the air. “What do you want from me,” he spat.

“There is only one more thing you can give me, old friend,” the vampire said nuzzling Juniper’s neck. “I’ve broken you down until you were all but begging for death, and now I’ve given you something to live for – all that’s left is letting your precious daughter feast on your blood. I’ve hardly fed the poor dear since I turned her, so she’s famished!” He smacked her ass, pushing her toward McCree. “Kill him, my dear. Feast on him! Sink those pointy fangs into his neck and drink your fill!”

She slowly closed the distance between them and fell to her knees in front of McCree. Her body was shaking more violently now. He wanted to hold her close and wrap his coat around her. Even with her teeth bared, the hunter didn’t feel an ounce of fear.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered to her, “I promise.” Reaper chuckled.

Juniper moved closer, her nose nearing his jugular. She was a young vampire, but plenty fast. He didn’t see her hand as it moved to his neck.

“Don’t look down,” she mouthed at him and he frowned for just a moment, then he felt her slip something into his hand. He knew that shape, that smoothed edge. A silver-tipped stake.

“Help me,” she whimpered almost inaudibly, “I can’t keep resistin’ much longer. He’s – he’s in my head!” Tears spilled down her cheeks, filling McCree with a determination he’d never known the likes of.

“What’s the holdup, Juniper? I know you’re a ‘hick’, but surely someone taught you to not to play with your food,” Reaper joked.

McCree looked at him and scowled. “I need your help, baby girl,” he murmured back to his daughter.

“What was that,” the elder creature hissed, flying to McCree’s side, grabbing him by his long hair and yanking his head back. “Enough sniveling, Juniper, kill him, now!”

She cringed and gripped her forehead, yelping and quivering in pain, but she was strong, like her father. With an inhuman snarl, Juniper tackled Reaper to the ground, pinning him in place before he could react. McCree scrambled to his feet, weapon at the ready. With one practiced movement, he stabbed Reaper in her chest, making the vampire screech and squirm.

He was hurt, but far from dead. He whipped his arm from under Juniper and punched her in the throat, making her crumble to the floor. McCree clenched his silver metal fist and pummeled Reaper again and again and again. Until his mask broke and the hunter hesitated at the sight of the mangled face below him – all gnashing teeth and ashen skin and a too long tongue that lashed out like a spear.

McCree may not have been frozen in place for long, but it was long enough. Reaper pounced, stake still stuck insinde of him, but this time he was on top, grinning and dripping saliva on the hunter’s stunned face.

“I’m going to bleed you dry, feed the meat from your corpse to my dogs, and grind your bones with my bare hands!” He leaned in closer, licking the sweat from McCree’s brow. “Then I’m going to chain up your ‘baby girl’ and do every filthy thing I can think of to her supple little – ”

There was a blast and Reaper was tossed off of the hunter. The vampire’s body was still. McCree was panting, waiting for the beast to get up and chuckle, but he didn’t.

“Is,” Juniper rasped shakily, “is he dead?”

The hunter turned to Juniper, who was still holding his pistol in her shaking hands. It was covered in silver adornments, and McCree could smell his daughter’s burning skin. He jumped to his feet and started to pry the gun from her hands.

“No,” he said frantically. “I’ve shot him before – it just slows him down.” He began to wrap up her hands with a bandage from his pocket. “We have to get you away from him. We’ll get on a ship and just keep sailing, okay? I’ll keep you safe, alright?”

When he looked back to Juniper, he saw her staring at him with a dazed look. “You’re bleeding,” she said, swallowing hard. “From yer head. I can smell it. I can feel it.” Her chest heaved as her eyes dilated. “I’m so hungry,” she wailed.

He grabbed her wrists as they approached him. “Easy there, sweetpea, I can’t help ya if I’m dead.” She whined, but nodded. “Can you, uh,” he said eyeing Reaper, “feed on him?”

She leaned over and bit her lip. “Maybe.”

In the time it took him to blink, Juniper was crawling over her master’s body, mouth affixed to his wrist. She made a disgusted face, but didn’t stop until her body stopped shaking.

“Better,” McCree asked as she stood.

“You ever vomit in your mouth and have to gulp it back down,” she grumbled. “It was like that.”

He grimaced. “I’m sorry, hun. We’ll figure something out for next time.”

“Next time,” she said wrapping her arms around herself. “There’s gonna to be a next time.”

“We’ll find a way,” McCree said blocking her view of Reaper’s mangled form. “I dunno how, but I’m gonna take care of you, ya hear?”

“I didn’t want to be like this,” she sputtered at him, “he just found me and dragged me away and – ” Her hands clamped over her trembling lips.

“I believe you,” he said grabbing her arms. So damn cold. “It’s not your fault.”

She looked up to him with teary eyes and slowly leaned into his chest, crying softly into him. He held her close and rubbed her back.

“I’ve got ya, baby girl, I’ve got ya.” He didn’t know how, but he was going to protect his daughter, no matter what she was. She was scared and hurt and confused, but she wouldn’t be alone. Neither of them would be anymore.