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cillivnz · 10 months

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Hi 👋 I see you write for Lord Dimitrescu (miss a spot, hit the spot was brilliant and I would devour more) and I saw that you are taking requests, what do you think about monster hunter!reader x Lord Dimitrescu? You can take this in whichever direction you like best, but I do have a prompt idea!

Lord Dimitrescu and his sons find a trespasser on their land and Dimitrescu takes her in as his guest/prisoner thinking that she is a clueless lost traveler, not knowing that she's a hunter willing to get close to him by any means necessary, even if it means seducing a monster. Gaining access to his infamous library full of books on how to kill every monster known to man is just the first step, what she really wants is to find out the family's weaknesses and get lord Dimitrescu to let his guard down enough for her to kill him and every last member of his twisted family. Or at least that was the plan...

I just love villain gets the girl/ corruption stories and the idea of someone rolling up into that castle with every intention of wiping out the evil that lives there, but getting seduced instead... 😍😍😍

Love your work!!!

façade of seduction [lord dimitrescu]

PAIRING — LORD DIMITRESCU x MONSTER HUNTER!READER

WORD COUNT — 12.6k+ (i’m so sorry, it’s for the plot!)

WARNINGS — SMUT. eighteen+. AFAB!reader, dark arts, necromancy, the supernatural, mentions of murders, beheadings, cannibalism, vampirism, extremely dubious consent, cursing, extreme gore (blood, cuts, stabbing, mass murder, executions, etc.), reader uses seduction as a tactic, death of family, size kink, age-gap, degradation, pet-names, mentions as well as performed oral sex (talk of male!receiving, performed cunnilingus), fingering, female masturbation, mentions of male masturbation, unprotected penetrative sex, weird & unspecific AU, creampie, cum-eating, breast/nipple play, clit stimulation, extreme descriptions (?), kinda sorta brat-taming.

A/N — whoa, baby! she’s done! firstly, let me just shower this anon with kisses for trusting me such an amazing prompt! thank you, you beautiful soul. i had a blast writing this, and i’m sorry i couldn’t finish it sooner :’( you’re a literal genius, i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this, and thank you for the kind words! secondly,

i tried incorporating as much lore from the game as i could, majority of the plot is my own fictional work, and the rest [credited to the game] may have been tampered with to suit the plot of this fiction.

Lady Elvira Natalia Stoica is an original character — INCLUSIVE OF ETHNICITY, RACE, COLOUR, BODY TYPE, etc. the only definite characteristic she has is that she is reader’s doppelgänger with an identical appearance, and that her family is of the same origin as The Dimitrescus (Romanian).

Alcina Dimitrescu’s gender-bent version is named Alcides Dimitrescu in my fiction. the credit of his sons’ names goes to @angel-hawthorne ’s comment under this post.

there’s some deliberate references to my other Lord Dimitrescu fiction. read it HERE!

NOTES [excuse inaccurate translations]

"Idiotilor! Așa ne tratezi oaspetele?" : You idiots! Is this how you treat our guest?

"Oaspete? Dar ea—" : Guest? But she—

"Scuzați-vă." : Excuse yourselves.

căprița mea mică : my little doe

cameristă : maid

Pentru dumnezeu! : good god/for god’s sake!

𝓗unters.

Your father before you, and his before him. Monsters, demons, deities; anything of supernatural order, possessing paranormal traits needed to be laid down, and your family was bestowed with the responsibility to do so. They told you, you were god-gifted; possessing an astounding memory. It was as if you soaked in every word you read in journals rich in paranormal history, and carved every word into your brain with your own hand.

Those ungodly creatures fumed at the audacity of a mortal family killing the abysmal aristocracies in the name of slaughtering abominations.

How proudly you awarded yourselves the title of Vânători de urâciuni — Hunters of Abominations. Soon enough, though, the leaders of the Four Houses knew a lesson needed be taught, example be set; actions have consequences, and after all, you were mere mortals. Audacious, dangerous mortals.

The last of the Four Houses needed to be hunted down. Your father, your uncle, your brother managed to wipe out the other key members, before it was about time the reaper caught up to them. Weeks, months went by in weeping for them, never letting their caskets dry, but it was about time you stopped mourning. This isn't what you were raised to do — whom you were raised to be. There was no way in hell you'd let the last Family standing think that the danger was over, not when you found out that it was on their cue, their command, that the guillotine that slashed through your family's head held high, became the inevitable demise of the men of Vânători de urâciuni.

'Fuckers even had the audacity to send the heads back, all nice and packaged, and signed. It was then, you realised, the weight of your name's responsibility lies on your shoulders, now. Mother was too deep in the waters of depression, perhaps, vengeance would serve as her lifeguard, and you sought to get it. For her sake, and yours.

Packing the the remnant of your belongings, primarily, lore on whatever mutation resembled that of what you've heard the family to be; barbaric, and vampiric, you set voyage to Castle Dimitrescu, the Lord's stronghold within the vicinity of a titular Eastern European village; Romania, in other geographical terms.

After weeks on foot, travelling from place to place and squeezing in some good o'l slash-and-dash of monsters into your quest, you reached the abysmal castle. The oppressive aura surrounding The Dimitrescus' colossal abode could be felt miles away from its actual foundations, the monotonous venus blue atmosphere, the trees that have been decayed for decades, peering into your periphery, mortifying the sight of Castle Dimitrescu, even more. You shake off a shiver, determined strides leading you forward. An ominous forest welcomed you, seemingly, the flora responded to every step you took on the onyx soil; you were not too far from the gigantic gates of the castle, deciding to take a breather and assess just what you were dragging yourself into, the massive mountainous foliage providing a safe haven, temporarily.

Rummaging through the contents, page after page, you landed on Wendigo. You knew your ancestors categorised mutations in the same category as a Wendigo, it being the severest form of inhumanity; the mutated man would resort to cannibalism, still humanoid — tall and pale with elongated limbs and pale yellow eyes. If the Dimitrescus were anything like a typical mutated Wendigo, you hadn't thought this through. Then, you remembered your brother's journal.

He was vague with words, often scribbling up a précise at the end of a hunt. Too consumed by your tears, you initially forgot about it, until you realised halfway through your voyage that your mother packed his journal for you, and some documentations recorded by your father and your uncle in their youth, though, you highly doubted you'd be coming across an extinct creature.

There it was — the last page of his journal — the twenty-seventh page to be precise, with triple the pages still empty; clean slates like a reminder of his unlived life, the life that was taken away from him.

You smiled fondly at his handwriting, letting your fingertips trace the scribbles, how deeply the quill was engraved into the paper. You remember laughing at his handwriting, growing up, how your mother would ask him to get a doctorate to match his stereotypical physician's handwriting, but this is all he knew — all you knew. Hunting was your profession, your life and lifestyle, and now, inevitably, your demise, too. You began reading, as I said, your older brother, a master at scribbling précise.

You were unsure, however, when he'd got the time to write down about The Dimitrescus, having never come face-to-face with the tyrants. It seemed your brother's first guess, too, was 'Wendigo', which he scratched down, only to pen it down again, bigger and emphasised, once he enlisted 'Cannibalisme'.

Your heart sank at the etchings.

Even for someone like him, these were too cynical, like he were losing his mind at the mere thought of them: 'one LORD — THREE SONS', it read. 'Blood disease??', 'PARASITE??', 'VAMPIRISM'? That would mean— "Oh." You stood corrected when just below the analysis was a remark, "NO WEAKNESS TO SUN OR WEATHER". Sometimes you swore you and him had the same braincells, always jumping to the same conclusions, which only made the desire to avenge him overpowering.

Your eyes traveled to the end of the page, the last of ink spilled on the worn out pages of your brother's journal, 'NEOPAGAN CULT', 'BLACK GOD'. With widened eyes, and a sinister feeling you couldn't yet shake away, your eyes dart to the next, last page.

There was a symbol maniacally delineated, labelled as the same reports on the previous page. 'NEOPAGAN CULT SYMBOL', and at the bottom of the page, the last thing your brother ever did write was, 'THE CULT OF THE BLACK GOD'. You subconsciously traced the diagram, only to see the graphite taint your fingertips. Your mind was racing two hundred miles per hour, trying to put the pieces of a fatally intricate puzzle together. Your brother's journal, the last of the contents were mere observations, unlike the rest of the pages that are filled with methods of executing generations of monsters.

But for The Dimitrescus, the fact that 'most powerful family' was written with emphasis only made you scowl. You searched frantically in your bag for the journals of your father, your uncle; anything that spoke more about this parasite and the said Black God.

Glancing back at the foot of the palace, you had to do a double take when you saw the guards leave the premises, bread and wine in hand. Their chuckles could be sound from the heart of the forest, even though they repeatedly 'shushed' one another, saying "the Lord" would put their "heads on a stick".

You take their departure as your cue and pace quietly towards the castle. You stood face to face with the colossal gates, doing your level best to push them open, just enough to sneak in, but the big dumb fuckers wouldn't budge. Scoffing, as fate would have it in your luck, you began scanning the perimeter for any safe way in, otherwise, you sure as hell knew how to make an entry.

"Ain't no fucking way," you'd pretty much lost all hope, not realising when your brother wrote down, "tall", it included the infrastructure, too. It was then your eyes noticed one particular stone brick placed slightly outward, and the one above it, and then the one above it, outward enough for you to step on, up, and grip the grotesque grill, securing the premises from people exactly like you.

The first step up was easy, the stone steady enough to carry you, or so you thought for when the second you stepped onto the next one, the one below fell to the ground, shattering to bits. You eyed the stone your foot was on currently, leaping when realisation hit you. By the time you rock-climbed your ass up to the top, the whole way up had crumbled down. You gripped the gothic grill, not taking the maker of it to be a sadist, for it sliced the flesh of your palm even through the slightest contact. You winced, looking back at the broken rocks, perhaps, a good omen; no one would suspect you climbed up the wall, now.

Crossing the grill, you jumped down as silently as a human could, looking back at your newfound enemy, the grill, only for it to be leaking with crimson. You groaned at the sight of your blood, thinking you were better than this, letting some metal get the best of you, but the immense pain from the cut made your head a little dizzy. Shaking the odd feel off, you proceeded leftward, walking further in to be greeted by what seemed to be a courtyard.

No servants, chamberlain nor staff was seen out and about, quite contrary to what one would expect from the functioning of a castle this mighty. Though the odds were in your favour, it didn't seem so; it's quiet, too quiet. Nothing other than a raven's screech and the flap of the wings of a murder of crows was heard for miles. Your steps had quickened at the sight of a door, finally leading you inside. As you inspected it, you sensed a magical aura around it; you could use a spell to crack it open, but that would cause bring attention you did not need at the moment. So, you pull a pin from your hair and apply the cheapskate thief method, and lo and behold, you were in.

Fuck yeah.

Closing the bulky door as silently behind you as you could, you were slammed right back into it, while what felt to be a talon instead of a hand wrapped around the back of your throat. "Well, well, what do we have here?" Said an anonymous voice, cuing laughter from two more.

Fuck, no.

The last thing you remember was a pair of hands squeezing your waist, one choking you, while one hand ghosted over your face, causing a wave of unconsciousness to pass over you.

Chained; you groaned, a pounding ache ringing in your head like an alarm, your eyes blinked, close to a hundred times to get accustomed to your dark, unfamiliar surroundings, while your nose burned with the stench of— burning bodies?

You lifted your head to see three tall figures illuminated by the feeble attempts of a torch. "Alas, sleeping beauty wakes." You heard one taunt, a raspy baritone to his voice, "No fun — I prefer them unconscious," said another with a similar tone. "Well, you're no fun if you don't like to watch the fear in their eyes when they beg you for their life," said the third. The conversation flowed more amongst themselves, quite rude to not have included the meat of the matter — you, but what more could you expect from The Dimitrescu Boys? Oh, you were sure it was them. 'One lord — three sons', you remembered, and no odds suggested they were servants or guards. Not with the way expensive jewels embellished their stallion necks not-so-subtly, like an all-time reminder of their aristocratic status. 'Pathetic,' you thought, it seems no matter the day or age, the breed of "daddy's money" remains as obnoxious as ever.

While they bickered amongst themselves, you took the time to take in their appearances: Handsome, irrelevant. Tall, but no more than an average case of gigantism in most villages. Yellow eyes, but not humanoid — no, fully, thoroughly (so it seems) human. Could this be another variety? Hybrids, perhaps, since Vampirism was in the books of possibility. That could explain their immunity to weather conditions. Their facial features became vivid all of a sudden, and you noticed the blood smeared all over their faces. Paying heed to your iniquity, perhaps even irked expression, the boys smirked devilishly; not charming, dangerously, Lucifer-ishly, but satanically. You weren't into the lighter side of magic like your mother, only using it grotesquely, but you knew aura-reading, even envisioning, like the back of your hand, and theirs was sinister: an abysmal shade of black surrounding them, with occultism dancing between their physical forms in the fiery colour of hellish hues.

"Tell us, what's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" One questioned, "Hm, never seen one so beautiful." "Is she even real — ethereal." "Makes me almost not want to eat her." Your eyes widened at the last remark, "Eat her in a different way, I'd definitely." Their shark-like smiles grew wider, subconsciously causing you to back away from them while they inched closer, ready to pounce on you and relish your beauty. "What do you have there, boys?" Asked the deepest voice you'd ever heard, from the other side of what you now realised was the dungeon. You were taken aback at the intrusion, silently thanking your saviour, even if it were the man himself — Lord Alcides Dimitrescu, head of Familia Dimitrescu.

His sons scattered immediately, letting their father rest his eyes upon you. "Food, father," one spoke eagerly, as if trying to impress his old man. "We saw her trespassing in the courtyard, and then she came inside." Spoke the other. "You could have her," said another, "If you save us a taste." Your face lost its colour when a ice-cold hand wrapped itself around your throat, yanking you up with one lift, and throwing you towards the bars between you and the mammoth Lord. His devilish expression— softened? "Elvira!" He exclaimed softly, reaching for your face, but the second his hand tried to snake past the bar, he winced in contact, the metal bar hissing with effervescence. Weakness?

"Idiotilor! Așa ne tratezi oaspetele?" The man was fuming: a flabbergasted expression on the said idiots' faces. "Oaspete? Dar ea—" "She can do as she pleases in my home." The man spat venom like thunder, his hateful expression turned to apologetic and caring in the blink of an eye when he turned to you. "Let her out this very instant." He glared at his sons one last time before turning away and saying, "The longer you wait, the more severe will be the outcomes."

So you were rushed out the dungeon and sent to the guesthouse.

The chamberlain had been waiting for you there at the direct orders of her master. "Lady Stoica, We're truly very sorry for the inconveniences caused to you. The Lord gifts you these gowns as his sincerest apology. He'd love for you to join him for supper once you have freshened up. Step out of your chambers, when you're done, and I'll be happy to take you there." You didn't acknowledge her, only awaited her leave so you could examine the gowns she had motioned towards while babbling courtesies you didn't give a fuck about. It'll definitely take more than four gowns to earn forgiveness for the treatment meted out to you down in the dungeons, but you wanted to give the tyrant lord a little bit of credit, for the gowns were stunning.

As you took in the details of each cloth, you came upon a note, which read: Sweetest Elvira,

Forgive my imbecile progeny, if you think they are worth it, but let us celebrate your presence, still, in my abode. Would you be so kind to accept my invitation for dinner? I have long yearned your company since the last time Lord and Lady Stoica visited.

Hoping to have you with me,

Alcides Dimitrescu.

Your blood boiled at his handwriting. It was the same intricate, royally cursive writing that signed the parcel of your family's heads.

You headed into the bath with murder on your mind; no matter how many times you'd sink into the warm waters, the heat only aggravated your fuming self. It was rosewater, the scent made your mind trail back to days of yore: when your mother would set up baths like this for you, the sweet scent of herbs and nature's warmth filled your hateful mind with nostalgia, then worry. Your mother had the most fight in her, no doubt about that, but that didn't mean she resorted to it easily; always seeing the best in people, giving them countless chances to repent. A generous, godly trait, but fatal in a world dominated by people like the man you were to meet with for dinner— supper, or whatever. You were just glad you weren't being served as the main course.

For now.

As you dried yourself up, your mind replayed the conversations, the characteristics and behaviours of the family. How he called you, 'Elvira'. Yes, Lady Elvira Natalia of Familia Stoica, another noble household your family put an end to. The irony lay in her appearance: the two of you looked alike — no, identical. Perhaps minor attributes set the difference between you two, or the fact that you put a bullet between her eyes — eyes just like yours; it was the reason why the Vânători de urâciuni men hesitated to kill her — sister, daughter, and niece. Not you, never had you hesitated. It's what set you apart in a man's world. If a woman's emotions got the best of her, than lucky for you and unfortunate for the whole world, the only feelings coursing through your mind like the blood in your veins were bloodlust. Blood and Lust, as your mind trailed back to Lord Dimitrescu—

Alcides fuckin' Dimitrescu.

He was tall, so tall, he had to crouch to an uncomfortable extent just to get a proper look at your frame through the dungeon bars. His raven locs and beard: neat as a lord, rugged like a pirate; his sharp nose, his thick, furrowed brows, his luscious lips and those eyes. Those fucking amber eyes, captivating, devouring you like a fox after literal meat. Their hue was as fluorescent as a Wendigo's, then how was he not like one? How is he so devilishly handsome?

Stuck in a limbo, half- hypnotised with hazy memories of the Lord, memories you were yet to make with him, you were left enchanted; like he had cast a spell on yo— "Holy fuck." That's it. It's the only logical reason behind such profound emotions. He had cast a spell on you. It could've easily been the waters, you had bathed in them, let the rose waters soak every inch of your skin. Or worse, his eyes? You had definitely not been that out of it to imagine them glowing in the dark, but if he truly practised necromancy at such a profound level that a mere look in your direction left you enamoured, then you had to come up with a plan, and come up with a plan fucking fast.

Despite your certainty that the only way you'd feel something so unlikely for a man who was responsible for the death of family, was via nécromancies, you still had to be sure. So, you performed an indication ritual. In a vessel, you stored the possible method of enchantment — the bath water — along with the blood of the enchanted. You prick your finger deep enough to get ample beads of crimson out, letting them drop into the vessel. Now, if by dawn, the contents of the vessel turn potently black, your suspicions are true, and the tyrant Alcides, indeed, cast a spell on you, but if it were to remain colourless, than the worst of your concerns has arisen, for you'd have willingly let lust overpower the balance of bloodlust in the weigh of your emotions.

Placing the vessel underneath your bed, you begin dressing. The odds were too ironic not to choose the rose coloured gown for the evening, so you wore it, feeling condemned to. Fixing whatever you deemed necessary, you stepped out of your room to find the chamberlain stationed exactly where she said she'd be.

Her breath hitched a little, eyes widening as she saw you turn towards her, "You look beautiful, Miss Stoica," was her way of seeing 'you clean up pretty nice for a dirty mess in the dungeons', but you paid no heed, letting the woman escort you.

The walk to the Lord's dining area was awkward, and fearful for the servant. There was no denying you resembled the heiress of one of the Seven Royal Families, but you hadn't thought your own victim's identity would play as your decoy in your most fatal mission.

You didn't blame them, you were dumbfounded at the striking resemblance, yourself.

The hair, the skin, the features; it was without a doubt you killed your doppelgänger that day, and though you were never one to follow rituals of lore, it says, 'the slaughtering of one's self' — a doppelgänger — 'is the greatest sign of one's power and control', so it was no wonder since then you had long been feared in every corner of Eastern Europe, but you never earned notoriety, nor make a fuss over the death of The Stoicas, which is why everyone in Castle Dimitrescu believes you to be her, for they think she is what you are; alive.

"We've arrived, madam. If you need me, please don't hesitate to call." She gave you a knowing look, one of empathy? Weird. Interestingly weird. You only nodded, before pushing the glass doors open, and letting yourself in.

Alcides sat with the three of his sons, you'd heard him call them Boian, C��tălin, and Dorin, not knowing which one is which, but you doubt names matter when their death's are destined by your hands. As if sensing you, something you'd mentally categorise among his vampiric characteristics, his head shot up from his sons and immediately those amber eyes were on you, ripping through your dress, eating you alive. His lifeless skin flushed at the sight of you, wet hair clinging to your frame so perfectly, he could smell the shampoo from here. How tightly the dress hugged your curves, how accentuated the rose colour of the gown made your ethereal body. Your plump, pouty lips were rosy like the gown, an even prettier colour, the sudden blush that dared to creep on your face, your determined brows raised a little at the shameless attention you were receiving, your big, radiant doe eyes widening, pupils dilating, and your long lashes batting at his direction.

"Elvira." He rose from his seats, as did his sons, heads snapping right at you to shamelessly ogle at you. On seeing that the look of disgust on your face was directed towards his sons, he shot them a fuming glare, causing them to nod an apology and immediately be seated again.

"Thank you for joining me." He said, softly, awaiting you. You moved closer, deciding to be seated beside the lord, across from his sons. "How have you been, my dear?" His hand found yours, yours minuscule in his clasp. "I had been fine, until certain miscreants accused me of trespassing."

You shot the three culprits a glare, and rightly so. Alcides eyed his sons, clearing his throat obviously when his sons remained oblivious to his cryptic signs.

"We're, uh," began one, "We're sorry, Madam Stoica," continued the other, "We didn't mean for any of that to happen, we just wanted to scare what appeared to be an uninvited guest at the time." "Had we known it was you... well, let's just say your welcome would've been different. Mostly." Finished the last, and your mind immediately caught on to the insinuation:

"Eat her in a different way, I'd definitely."

You could see the man's blood boil beside you, "Scuzați-vă." He growled, and you caught a glimpse of just how much fear he's instilled into his children, for they immediately excused themselves from the table and left with hurried steps.

"Pardon them, I don't know where I went wrong in raising them." He sighed once they were out of sight, rubbing the bridge of his nose. You've never been one to sympathise with an enemy, but maybe sympathy isn't what'll lead to his slaughter; seduction is.

You wordlessly place a hand atop his, earning a soft gasp from him. His eyes searched your face, and when you couldn't help but give him a small smile, he grinned; from ear to ear, letting his pearly fangs rise from their pillowy coverings, his lips, which he soon had to bite to control his giddiness. "Oh, Elvira," his voice was soft, a mere yearn lingering in the warmth of the room. Had it been this hot since you stepped in, or had the flush of your cheeks been indicating otherwise? "You're so beautiful." His other hand tucked the stray strand of hair falling onto your face, behind your ear. You felt a tinge of bitterness brewing in you, whatever relationship was established between Alcides and Elvira, it sure was on the better side of the spectrum.

Were you really feeling jealous of your dead doppelgänger? Well, from the way he looked at you— her — right now, you'd say he wouldn't take to her murder too kindly.

"I swear, you're even more beautiful than the last time I saw you." You blushed, so he enjoyed the new-and-improved Elvira more. "Yet you stay ever handsome." NO. You didn't mean for it to slip, you didn't mean it, you didn't think it — yet, you said it, and he fucking relished in it.

To save you from your embarrassment, your newfound guardian angels, the chef and other servants, brought in food of all sorts. Albeit the sheer hatred you felt towards them, you couldn't help but ask Alcides about his sons. "Aren't you sweet?" He looked at you with fondness, before answering, "The servants will bring them food to their quarters."

Fair enough.

You proceeded eating without another word or glance in his direction. Upon finishing the scrumptious meal, you waited for Alcides to take the lead.

Men like him relished in power, authority, and since he was born into it with a silver spoon hanging from his mouth, it was the only thing he knew.

He looked at you for several moments, an unreadable expression on his face making you more conscious than repelled, as if you craved the validation of his eyes.

He rose from his seat, one hand lingering in the air, an invitation for you to clasp it, while the other grabbed a hefty cluster of grapes by the stem. "Walk with me, darling."

He had to look painfully low to even see your head, once you rose to your height, it helped, but little aid was provided to the giant standing at 9'6.

You held his hand, the sheer size difference had you squirming in your steps.

Just imagine how beautiful sex would be with him, you wouldn't even be able to fit him— "Fuck," you whined under your breath, making damn sure your voice wasn't audible to Mount Everest beside you.

This was the spell talking — thinking; it's got to be. You withdrew your hand, pretending to fix the blouse of the dress, earning a glance from the Lord in your direction, which only stayed for a moment before the calming silence between the two of you was the only thing you could see, until he halted, pulling your attention back to him. "Fruit, my dear?" He waved the cluster, so you knew which ones he was talking about. Come to think of it, you did feel thirsty, and those grapes looked lusciously juicy.

"I don't see why not," you shrugged, not anticipated him to raise the cluster to his mouth and bite a grape off. You watched, mouth slightly agape as a perfectly fine grape rested between his fangs. Even the slightest subconscious movement could rip through the fruit, yet it stayed perfectly safe in his mouth.

He then crouched, now eye-to-eye with you. His eyebrows raised in your direction, challenging you. Challenging you to pull the fruit out of his mouth, and there was only one way to do it.

You bit your lip, you could have your fun, just until you find a reversal cure to his spell.

So, you grab onto both his wide, muscular shoulders, letting your arms cross around his neck. You smirk at him, bringing one hand forward to trace his features. He was so, so strong, to the point you were more aroused than intimated. Your hand reached his torso, you could see how your teasing placed him in agony. Slowly, you let your hand ghost over his pants, and lo and behold, he was aroused; painfully so, and you felt it immoral to torment a man so much (the fucking irony), so you palmed him through his pants, causing his mouth to hang open and out fell grape— right into your palm.

You bring the fruit up to your mouth, Alcides left mesmerised with the way your plump, perfect lips wrapped around it before ripping through it. A moan escaped your lips as the juice dripped down your tongue. "So good," you left out a sigh, and something in him snapped. Alcides flipped you around, you were now pressed against some wall that practically emerged in support of his... expeditions. He plucked two grapes, placing them in his large palm, before bringing it closer to your face. When your eyes widened in confusion, his other hand wrapped itself around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks to open your mouth, before you realised what he demanded and gave it to him; you licked about the fruit, before accepting them into your mouth. Your tongue still teased his flesh, when he pulled away. Amber eyes mere slits with obvious lust, "Now," he began, "You can say you've eaten out of the Lord's palm." He winked at you before walking away.

You steadied your haggard breathing, before deciding to follow him when a certain room caught your eye. It were as if your name was being chanted like a careful whisper, that only sounded when you were left alone. Following your gut, as a hunter as skilled as you would, you push open the heavy doors and let yourself in.

The first thing catching your eye was an obnoxious leather chair that you couldn't help but run a hand over, "Gator skin," you scowled. Though a hunter, you were against hunting — animals, that is, although you'd be hypocritical to say so when the creatures you send to hell are no less barbaric than a creature tormenting in wilderness. Still, you believed in fighting an equivalent, or even better, an apparent immortal.

On the left of it was an fireplace, charcoaled in exhaustion like it recently gave up it's flame and purpose, and in front, was a library, the source of your calling; not colossal, yet extreme in number. The whispering chant grew to a shout, a yearn for each leather-clad covering of ink spilled on paper to be touched by your feather-light fingertips, and only a fool would turn down a beseech like such.

Books of alchemy, instructional journals of God summonings, documentations on every supernatural creature that roamed the planet and how to kill them; even the Satanic Bible was on display, and you explored every single one of them. Fighting the temptation to steal every book with valour, despite how useful each would've proved to be to you in the future, you declined every book until you reached what you sought, rather, what sought you tonight. "The Book of The Four Houses", the spine read. You pulled the book out, not anticipating it to be so heavy. "The Book of The Four Houses", you read again, searching for an author, but not met by any name.

You flip through the pages frantically, in hopes to find any continuance of relevance to your brother's observations, and there it was: Familia Dimitrescu, the excerpt was titled.

"Alcides Dimitrescu was born into the noble Dimitrescu family sometime before the Great War, and through this ancestry inherited a hereditary blood disease, possibly porphyria cutanea tarda. Although his family traced their origins to Cesare, one of the four founders of an isolated mountain village in Europe, Alcides himself lived elsewhere, perhaps through a cadet branch. In the aftermath of the Second World War and the abolition of the nobility, Dimitrescu returned to his family's former lands, which had fallen under the control of a neopagan cult worshipping the Black God.

Prior to 1958, at the age of 44, Dimitrescu was lured by the cult leader, Mother Miranda, to a crypt beneath the village cemetery, where he was surgically implanted with a Cadou parasite. The purpose of this experiment was to determine his viability as a candidate who could become host to a parasitic intelligence at a later date. This experiment mutated Alcides' body considerably, granting him regenerative capabilities, retractable claw-like nails, and the ability to transform into a dragon-like monster and back again. Moreover, the parasite halted his aging process, maintaining his appearance perpetually. In spite of these impressive biological changes, the resulting mutation did not nullify his blood disease. As a result, Dimitrescu needed a ready supply of fresh human blood to maintain his health, and was therefore judged by Miranda to be a failure."

"Although Dimitrescu was of no use as a host, his claim to Castle Dimitrescu was recognized by Miranda and he was allowed to take residence in the village as one of the Four Lords, who would maintain order over the native peasantry while aiding Miranda in Cadou research. Upon inhabiting the estate, Dimitrescu took over his family's vineyard and wine-distribution business as a means of supporting himself."

"Relishing in his reclaimed noble status, Dimitrescu developed extreme caste-based views of society, seeing himself as second only to Miranda herself. He openly loathed the other three house Lords, particularly Karl Heisenberg, whom he frequently argued with. He privately bemoaned that he was not Miranda's favorite, instead being treated the same as all the others. Despite this, Dimitrescu's alliance with the other houses allowed him to rule his castle with barbarous cruelty, regularly taking in new staff to replace those who had been taken to his dungeon to be killed and drained of blood for sustenance."

"Dimitrescu's own experiments with Cadou appear to have been limited, as the only confirmed instance was an experiment begun by Miranda and monitored by Dimitrescu. In this experiment, the corpses of three men were implanted with Cadou parasites. Over the course of about a week, the Cadou produced fly-like organisms which then consumed the flesh of all three bodies. Having assimilated the DNA of these men, the flies merged to mimic their human shapes and slowly adapted their likenesses. Dimitrescu immediately formed a bond with these three men, whom he named Boian, Cătălin, and Dorin, and came to regard himself as their father. They obeyed Dimitrescu without question, and were similar to him in that they were ageless and reliant on vampirism for sustenance. However, they were incapable of withstanding cold temperatures, thus remaining trapped within the confines of Castle Dimitrescu."

That explains the overwhelming warmth of the Castle that had began to annoy you.

"Over the next seventy years, Dimitrescu and his sons systematically consumed the flesh and blood of local peasants and servants alike. The blood of maids was extracted and combined with grapes to create Sanguis Virginis (Latin for "Maiden's Blood"), a traditional Dimitrescu family wine. The female victims, now infected with Mold, lived on as Moroaicǎ and Samcă, while male victims were consumed and then hollowed out to be turned into scarecrows for the castle vineyard."

"Dimitrescu's reign of terror was not without resistance, however, as one villager is known to have stolen a family heirloom — the Dagger of Death's Flowers — in an attempt to assassinate him with its poisoned blade. The attempt failed and he was buried with the dagger in the Tower of Worship to keep it hidden from any others who might seek to harm him."

You snapped the book shut, mind whirling in an epileptic shock, replaying every single word over and over in your head, then images of Alcides, his "sons", Cadou Parasites, Mother Miranda? By the time you realised it, you were hyperventilating, eyes scattering from corner-to-corner, in search of anything less cryptic, anything less 'Once-upon-a-time-there-was-a-beautiful-boy-named-Alcides', and more 'Weakness-to-duhduhduh-kill-by-gunshot-to-the-duhduhduh'.

You threw your head back in unfamiliar pain that originated from your chest, you can't believe plain ink on paper knocked the air out of you, but then again, so did the signed caskets of your family; by the same man you now found out to be ancient and seemingly indestructible, but talk of this "Dagger of Death's Flowers" gave you hope.

Your thoughts of retrieving it were cut short when the doors burst open. "What are you doing?" roared the thunderous voice of the man of the hour, "Elvira." His voice was laced with an emotion you were too out of your head to begin deciphering. His eyes dropped to the book in your hands while awaiting your answer. "Oh, why didn't you say so?" His expression softened, causing you to raise a brow in perplexity. He walked over, the fondness in his eyes returned, causing your tense posture to relax a bit. He took the book from you, and seemingly landed on a page mentioning Alcides' life before lordship. "You really love this book, don't you? I guess it is fun to read a fan's work." He chuckled, flipping through the pages as if he hadn't seen the book in a long, long time.

Huh.

If 'Elvira', too, had been scavenging through the book of Dimitrescus, possibly for the same reason as you, maybe you're more similar than you thought.

When you looked up to his height, his eyes were already on you. "You look tired, my dear. I would be happy to take you to your quarters." He smiled, and your heartbeat was quick to quicken at that. "I'd like that, my Lord."

My Lord.

The walk to your chambers was a haze, all you could feel was the growing wetness in your panties from the way his eyes bore into you; penetrating every inch of you, consuming your conscience with the darkest desires.

Taking out your brother's journal from your bag, you flipped to a fresh page and began filling in your own conclusions. As you wrote, you began to think— not just as a hunter, but as a long deprived woman who had just encountered the most handsome man ever, who just also happened to have murdered her family.

The way he walks, the way he holds your innocent gaze challengingly, the way he looks at you like you're the most exquisite meal, and he's a man starving. You had long abandoned the trepidation and abhorrence you felt towards his cannibalistic lifestyle, instead, feeling a shameful surge of lust shoot into you. You rubbed your thighs together, laying on the bed, but dutifully still, writing every bit of knowledge you gained today; from the parasite, to relations with the leaders of the other Houses and Seven Royal Families that Vânători de urâciuni had already slaughtered, to Mother Miranda, and even what little you read about the Black God.

By the time you covered every intricate detail of a disaster waiting to happen, the heat between your legs was nuclear; the throb, unbearable, leaving you no choice but to act on your animalistic urges. You straighten up, slowly discarding the beautiful cloth that once accentuated your body, now felt like constricted bondages on it.

Once bare, you sink into the pillowy cushions of your given quarters. Something about the whole room smelled like him, but the strongest scent came from your dress, when you were pressed against him. Even both your arousals could be scented from the innocent rose dress, so you tugged it closer to you, breathing in his smoky musk scent, along with your innocent floral one. "Fuck," you groaned, fingers finally ghosting over the mess dying to be made between your legs.

You decided now was not the time to tease, so you coat your fingers in your wetness and smear circles on your swollen clit. "Fuck."

Your bud throbbed in your grasp, desperate to have a little somebody's fanged mouth on it, your nipples hardened the same, aching to have that mouth graze over them, suckle on them, taint the soft, ample flesh with sinister marks. Hell, if it meant one night of succumbing to carnal pleasures, you'd even let the fucker carve that neo-pagan cult symbol on you.

"Fuck!" You weren't thinking straight — no, you weren't thinking at all. How could you? You were under a spell, 'Yes, that was it,' you thought, more so struggling in convincing yourself than anything. Just the sheer thought of a man possessing vile notoriety, relishing in every crime you've fought against; his size, the abnormality of it all. You fantasised about how inhumanely long his tongue might be, teasing around your clit before plunging into your slit.

Oh, that's it.

You shoved your fingers inside of you, whining at how unfulfilling they were, when compared to the hands of him. You were pretty sure his middle finger was bigger than your face.

The only sound to be heard was the squelching of your pussy and your whimpering. You could only pray you weren't audible, not that you minded, because it was Elvira Stoica who'd get mocked, not Y/N Y/L.

Your pace quickened at the thought of him fucking you as Y/N. Would the thought of fucking the enemy be as tantalisingly erotic to him, too? Or would he just hate fuck you, and then feast on your flesh?

"Fuck me..—" You lost your voice when your breath hitched in your throat. "Ju-just like that, mhhm." You were so close, just a bit more... "Fuck me."

That's it, honey, just let go—

"Oh," you moaned too loud to be safe, "Alcides!"

Your legs were shaking, cunt spasming around your fingers while your chest heaved up and down, in a breathless state.

As you rubbed your high out, realisation dawned in on you.

What have you done?

You woke up disgruntled.

Still unimaginably wet, yet thankful for the release, but you hadn't forgiven yourself. Last night was unacceptable, even for someone enchanted. To make matters worse, this isn't even the first time someone put an infatuation spell on you; at least three men before this, but not to pacify an enemy, but to woo a stoic woman with only murder on her mind.

The victim of such a spell for the fourth time, yet Alcides is different. This was incredible necromancy, not like any you've encountered before. It was then you remembered the vessel underneath your bed. Almost too eagerly you jumped off the bed, still somewhat entangled in the sheets, which you threw off swiftly.

You ducked under the bed, the vessel promisingly in the same spot as you had left it. Reaching for it with closed eyes and crossed fingers, you pull it from underneath and lift it to your height.

As you peeped one eye open, then the other in disbelief, you threw the vessel with one swing of your arm. It banged against the wall, before falling to the ground with a typical, screeching metal noise.

This can't be happening. There was no way you felt what you did for Alcides, willingly. The clear contents of the vessel indicated otherwise, though. There was no mistake in your ritual, either; you added what was needed and waited long enough.

"No, no, no, no, NO!"

This can't be fucking happening. You were ready to bawl your eyes out, when one sophisticated knock erupted you. "Elvira." It was him, you knew, your body and heart knew.

When no response followed, Alcides began, "My sons and I are travelling out of estate," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry for telling you on such short notice, but we won't be back until tomorrow." His voiced trailed off, as if waiting for you to reveal yourself, your reaction, anything, but you're too shaken up to give him any satisfaction. "That's quite alright, my lord." You swallow the lump in your throat, not being able to control yourself and adding, "I'll be right here, waiting." You swore you heard a groan, but were stuck in a limbo by the time Alcides left your door.

You decided all things could be said and done after bathing, so you run a bath and let the scented waters soak into you, replacing the stench of your sins with the perfumed power of blaming Alcides; but you couldn't do that anymore, could you? Not when he was never provocative.

Once you finished freshening up, you grabbed another one of the gowns Dimitrescu gave you. It was black, and beautiful; you were left speechless when you put it on. God, did he really have to make you feel beautiful when you were sent to kill his entire bloodline? "Ah, such unfortunate circumstances." You 'tsked' before doing your hair.

By the time you were done with your makeup, you were certain of today's plan: You were going for breakfast, accessing the courtyard, navigating the Tower Of Worship, exhuming the villager with whom the "Dagger of Death's Flowers" is buried; dig it out, lace the blade with gunpowder, stab all fuckers, one by one, get the fuck out, walk miles back home, and hibernate.

Sweet.

You step out of your quarters to find the chamberlain posted there, just like the day before. "If I say so, my lady?" She looked up at you, the tiny thing was adorable for the fear she felt, yet still wanted you to know that, "You look ravishing." She briefly looked you in the eye before the rouge on her cheeks became embarrassingly obvious, to her. You, on the other hand found her just as she was, adorable.

Upon entering the dining area, she silently took her leave, when you grabbed her wrist. "First Alcides, now you, too?" You asked, flirtatiously referring to both of them excusing themselves from you. "The least you could do is give me company." And how could anyone resist the sultry tone of a stunning woman?

So the chamberlain finds herself dining with you.

You insisted she sat besides you, and despite putting the maximum distance between your chairs, she complied. "So...?" You inquired after finishing your meal, referring to her name. "Oh— uh— Pasha, mi lady." You smiled, "Beautiful name for a beautiful girl." You saw her rub her thighs together from the corner of your eye. "Well, Pasha," you decided to break the awkward silence that hadn't formed yet, "You think you can take me to the Tower Of Worship?" You sipped on your tea, eyeing her while you swallowed, only to see her with widened eyes and haphazard breathing. "Me-my l-lady—..." she stammered, hesitation painted all over her soft features as if you asked her to murder The Dimitrescus herself, or eat you out, you couldn't decide which was more mortifying for the poor girl. "What is it, Pasha?" You sighed.

"Th-the area is strictly off limits— only the... family can go there." She gulped at your growingly irritable expression. "I am part of the family — the Stoica household, in case you've forgotten, cameristă."

"I- yes, mi lady. I'm so sor—" "I don't want to hear it." You interrupted, raising a hand in the air. "Will you, or will you not take me to the Tower Of Worship?" You stared at her, the impatience visible on your face, before you decided to put on the façade you knew best; the façade of seduction. "Please, Pasha," you placed a hand on her bare thigh, her little skirt leaving little to imagination.

"For me?" Were the magical words that got the job done.

So you walk with the head of the staff of Castle Dimitrescu, into the family's place of worship, to exhume the corpse of the only man with the balls to try and assassinate him.

Pasha dropped you off at the foot of the Tower, more than happy to bolt away once you told her it was okay to leave you alone.

You walk up the stairs, and into the end of Castle Dimitrescu.

For a place of "worship", the place had the most oppressive aura, reeking of the occult and unimaginable. You fought your way inside, barely getting in while the air was knocked out of you; perhaps, a barrier of necromancy, despite it, you were able to get through.

You ran from corner to corner, searched every square centimetre of the place, but no place near-resembled the tomb of an assailant. "Fuck, where is it?" Your hands dipped inside your bag to look for something, before pulling it out and beginning your rummaging.

Indeed, you had stopped by Alcides' study before breakfast, telling the maid you 'forgot something' in there during your "time" last night, before winking at her shamelessly and forcing your entry. Sneaking out 'The Book of The Four Houses' was something you could do with your eyes closed.

Your eyes read past every word until you landed where you were made to stop, when the wave of overwhelm hit you last night. "Hall of the Four", the title read.

"The Hall of the Four, known in Japanese as Between the Four Angels (四天使の間, shi tenshi no aida?), is an area of Castle Dimitrescu." The Hall of the Four leads to the Tower of Worship, but this door cannot be opened until the four masks are placed on the Angel statues."

You groaned a string of profanities.

It's like you were set up for failure, and the worst part is, you could hear him laughing in the back of your mind— Alcides. His new abode has become the back of your mind, for he never leaves there.

Tired, disappointed and on the verge of giving up, you leave the Tower. You were a goner without the masks, and despite being in a rush to at least try and acquire them, you walked in a defeated slumber.

The chamberlain met you somewhere near the courtyard, surprised to see you walking out alive. "Lady Stoica—" "Just take me to my quarters, Pasha." You sighed, earning a swift nod from the confused chamberlain.

You walked lost, still, until you reached your room and opened that damned book again. While you scrolled through the contents, a mere note fell off, barely in your grasp.

The handwriting.

It was your brother's, but— it couldn't be. They never got close enough, which is why you're here now, right? They never got close enough. Three of the most feared, skilled men in the world of hunting never got close to one man and his three experiments for sons.

How in the hell did— Wait.

'Mask of Pleasure: Second Floor of Castle Dimitrescu',

that's where you are right now.

Everything could wait, hell, God could wait on the other line of heaven. You needed answers, yes, but something in your gut tells you it's better unknown. All that matters right now is killing him and every last member of his twisted family.

Or at least that was the plan...

You find yourself walking towards any room, with any possibility of possessing a mask. Hell, you had no idea what it looked like, but if it looks anything like the pleasure you'd be rewarding yourself with once you get the fuck out of this place, the mask won't be too difficult to find.

Soon enough you had pulled the place apart — the whole floor — except one room you hadn't set foot in. Alcides Dimitrescu's chambers.

A colossal door; you couldn't look away from the necromantic symbols etched into the woodwork. Had you not possessed the ability to see through such dark arts, you would've stepped right in and be left to deal with a fatality. You pull two vessels from your bag; the Blood of Christ and Vurxelheim, two of the purest substances on the planet, known to melt away all magic, no matter how ancient or dark, and as your expected, it did just that.

Alright, now all that was needed was to open the door, and even an amateur could do that with a pin.

Upon entering, you took in the details of his abode, almost forgetting to close the door behind you. Everything was brown; that's something you've noticed about the whole castle. Monotonously warm shades of brown, dimly lit with heat radiating over every surface. You only quirked a brow at the abnormalities. It soon came to your knowledge that the foundation of this floor is regarded as the "Hall of Pleasures". Kinky.

You looked around every corner, in every possible direction and space, but to no avail. Sighing, your head fell back, eyes closed it absolute demotivation, but when you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was porcelain intricately carved, and hanging from the ceiling; a place where no mortal, but only a 9'6 indestructible titan of a tyrant could reach. It was obnoxious, if anything; placing it in a place so obvious, yet so out of reach — a direct message to show he's better than the rest, quite literally above them.

With no possible way of reaching it, you were still accessing your options when one strong arm wrapped itself around your waist and raised you up, right to where the mask hanged. "If you wanted to swing by my chambers,"

"You could've just asked, mic vânător."

Little Hunter— "Let go of me!" You writhed in his grasp, hand slowly reaching for the mask, still. "If you say so," he shrugged before letting go of you completely, letting you hang from the ceiling like a dreamcatcher. "Son of a bitch! You put me down this instant or I swear to God I'll rip through you and your experiments with my bare hands." "Ah, there's no need to get feisty, Elvira." He said, grabbing you by the waist, and putting you down, despite your kicking and struggling. "I'm only trying to help." He grunted, one hand disappearing behind his trench coat; you were ready to pounce at him, when he pulled, seemingly, the other three masks from behind.

"There you go, sweetheart. Masks of Joy, Sorrow, and Rage." He waved the remaining three keys to The Hall of the Four. You eyed him, and he swore the frowning pout was the cutest sight he's ever seen. "C'mon, they're yours for the taking, darling." He smiled at you.

"What's the catch, Alcides?" You sighed.

It's never that fucking easy, is it?

"One night with me." He simply spoke, taking your deepening scowl as a notion to carry on, "One night to decide what is it that you want, Elvira," "Or should I call you, Y/N Y/L of the Vânători de urâciuni?" Your eyes widened with horror; you hadn't processed him calling you 'little hunter', yet, and now this? This could only mean— "How did you—" "Please. 'You think I wouldn't find out about the mass murder of my fiancé? And imagine the gossip about town that it was a doppelgänger who did it." No, you were careful, he's lying — he's got to be. "Lucky for me, I get the sexier one, now." He chuckled, impressed with his wit.

When you didn't give him the satisfaction of freaking out on him, moreover agreeing to his terms, he rolled his eyes, "Pentru dumnezeu! The first mistake was the rocks you climbed on. They've deliberately been arranged like so, for trespassers like you to easily enter, walk through the courtyard, and into the quarters of my sons for them to feast upon. Then, leaving your blood on the grill? The scent agonised me. It was so difficult to put those three dogs on a leash, having never smelled something so sweet." He 'tsked', "The second mistake was trusting Pasha. It was her hand that twirled in your bath water, mixing the infatuation spell, and it was her, too, that switched the vessel underneath your bed. Very clever, by the way, very thoroughly performed indication ritual."

"But your third— baby, this mistake might as well be a blessing because it's the only fucking thing keeping me away from ripping into you slowly, and feast on your flesh for two whole days; pleasuring yourself, in my fucking castle, fantasising about fucking me."

"Oh, and the guillotine was Heisenberg, I only added the dramatic touch of sending the heads back."

You couldn't bear it.

Bottles full of emotions you've locked away for ages finally hit the concrete of reality; shattering to a million pieces while the man you still find irresistible, had an unimpressed look on his face. "Y/N. I know you want to kill me—" "Oh, honey, you have no idea." You laughed dryly, choking on sobs, but something tells you the impact of your threat didn't go in the direction you wanted because he visibly tensed when you called him, "honey".

"But," he raised both hands in defence, "I wouldn't have gotten you these," he said, waving the masks again, "If I didn't think this deserved a chance— we — deserved a chance." "You think I'll let you anywhere near me after you toyed with me like a plaything? Sent me my father, my uncle, my brother's heads to add a 'dramatic touch'?" "I should've put a more potent spell on you," he cursed under his breath, earning a scoff from you.

You pulled out a dagger from your thigh holster, and lunged at him. Caught off guard, Dimitrescu's eyes widen while you slashed through his alabaster shirt, eager to bleed some crimson into his lifelessly pale skin. "I've had it with you, brat!" He growled, the whack of his palm on your cheek took you back, and you didn't mean to moan.

The cry, it was wanton, and it had Alcides latching on to every ounce of self control he still preserved. "Alright, here's what we're gonna do," he grabbed the dagger from your grasp within a second. "You're gonna take off your clothes, lay down, looking pretty for me like you always do," he walked closer, raising his large hands again in defence. "You following me— okay," he inched closer to you, while you backed away, further into the wall. "I'm gonna feast on this pussy, then I'm gonna finger your tight hole open, and because I'm feeling generous," he grabbed ahold of your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, "I'm not gonna force my cock into your pretty little throat, you're gonna beg for it." He caressed your face, the way your doe eyes watered while staring at him, like glass he could see his reflection in, your agape lips and soft expression made his pants constrict his cock agonisingly. "And the last thing I'll be doing, even if it's my last ever," his hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you to his king-sized bed. Laying you down, and climbing on top like a wolf on a lamb, he says, "Is fucking this pussy till you finally accept that you're made for me."

His mouth latched onto your neck, easily manhandling you at the same time while you writhed in his grasp. "I would rather be dead." You spat out venomously, which only made Alcides smile. "Well, alright. I'd still pound you till you're a mere cum-dump, but I'd surely miss those pretty sounds you made when you fingered yourself thinking about me." He panted against your pulse point, baritone voice hoarse with lust.

He spread your legs, lifting both your hands up by the wrists to his face. "Tiny little things," he kissed the knuckles of each finger, "Unsatisfying, aren't they?" He showered your hands with kisses, "Don't worry, darling, I'm here now." He raised both hands so their size was visible in your periphery, before grabbing your dress and pulling it over your head. "No!" You resisted, causing him to huff, annoyed. "Don't make me tear it off, honey, you look breathtaking in it." He cooed, and your movements haltered enough for him to successfully get it off you. "Good girl— such a good girl f'me."

Immediately his eyes were on your curves, your hips — perfect for bearing the child he was about to fuck into you, your breasts, so ample, all available for his groping and fondling, your pussy almost peering out of the silk panties. "Fuck, Y/N." He groaned, about to rip your underwear off when your pleads interrupted him. "Alci-Alcides please don't." "Hm," his sharp eyes seemed to be calculating his next move. "You say no, but your body," he groaned, pressing the knuckles of two of his fingers against your clothed cunt, "Your body sings otherwise, my love."

Every second passing by was petrifying.

The mortal battle between blood and lust, two things you were the epitome of, qualities comprising your very backbone, now, asked you to break it; bend over backwards and break your back for this man.

The string of pleads you cried fell on deaf ears, which, a part of you was glad for. Maybe if you continued to put the blame on Alcides and his necromancy, you'll actually let yourself live with the fact that your desires to have him ravage in your guts is overpowering, and the carnality lay in the fact that you didn't even care about what happened after. You were serving him your body in a platter, which you had not an ounce of doubt would eventually serve that purpose, quite literally.

"Tell me you want me." He hovered over your breasts. If he wanted to play games, then games you'll play. "I want you..." you whispered, "to go fuck yourself." He would've smacked you again, but again, you would've enjoyed it. What did stop him, however, was the shit-eating grin plastered on your face that showed him you were still on planet Earth, among the living and the abominable.

"Now, why would I do that, when I've got such a pretty girl with her pussy all wet for me?" He mimicked your expression, staring into your soul until you were forced to look away, and your eyes landed right on his clothed erection. "This?" He followed your gaze, "You're going to take care of this in just a minute, but for now," he paused, his large hands turning into talons and ultimately perilous claws. Cutting through the hems of both your garments, he retracted his claws immediately. You flinched when his hands came closer to your hips, "Don't be afraid, mic vânător." His baritone voice gave you absurd comfort, the tone, reassuring. "They can't hurt you, unless I want them to." His pearly whites were like the fangs of a serpent, peering out, bloodthirsty for you.

With that, he lowered himself and dove right in.

You slithered about while his anomaly of a tongue kitten-licked your inner thighs. "I'll tie you to the fucking bed, if you don't quit squirming." He spat.

At your pussy.

You moaned in response, hips momentarily halting from the continuous resisting. "Yeah? You like that don't you, slut?" His fingers spread your slit, before spitting right into your tight hole that fluttered about nothing. "There you go, my love." He cooed in response to your whining, smoothly inserting his index finger into the same hole. A tremor ran down your spine at the sudden intrusion; the stone-cold, thick and long thing digit was a cruel thing, reaching that sweet spot the minute it bottomed out till, knuckle-deep in your velvety walls, and even calling the others to join in on the assault on your cunt.

Accommodating, now, three of his fingers, pummelling your cunt, scissoring you open, was more overwhelming than any dick you've ever taken. Maybe the fact that no one else could amount to the size of an ancient 9'6 vampiric cannibal Lord who's put his and the life of his sons in your palm.

Either you take them away, or let him take you to carnality never fathomed before, and the way he sucked on your swollen clit while fucking you with his fingers was a clear indication of your preference.

"Alcides," you moaned, nearing your high. "Yes, my love?" He replied almost instantaneously, as if finally you complied with a poor man's request. "What is it that you need, darling? I'll give it all to you." He lifted up from your pussy, leaving your clit with a wet 'pop' sound, making his way over to your breasts, while his movements inside you never faltered once. His sharp eyes searched yours, fixated on them while his hot tongue snaked out of his mouth to twirl around your hardened bud. Flesh on fire, you leaned into the feel of his mouth on you. "Fuck me, Alcides." You cried in defeat. How the mighty have fallen prey to the vultures of lust, mere carcasses of seduction.

Alas, the façade of seduction had backfired, and you had fucked up royally.

Upon hearing the trumpets of his victory through your pretty mouth, Alcides would've been a fool to refuse you. Eagerly he undoes his pants, letting his throbbing cock spring free. Your eyes damn-near saw your brain at the sight of the thing. "Alci— I can't." Seeing you panic, he began getting off on it. "You can, and you will." He hissed when his calloused thumb rubbed against the slit of his cock.

"Oh, I wanna feel that throat squeezing around me." He pumped faster, fucking his fist to the thought of you like many a night before. "But this pussy will do," "For now." He said, rubbing his length fervently against your slit, lathering your wetness on his leaking tip, enthusing a sweet mix of your cum, much more of which was to come.

"Won't be... able... to..." You spoke in between moans gaps the tip was in. The stretch was abnormal, ungodly, unnatural — exactly what you're deemed to kill. "You'll take it, mic vânător." He began to push more in, knocking the air out of your body. "Stop clenching," he groaned deeply, the sound resonating in your core. Nothing could've prepared you for this intrusion, so agonisingly painful, yet deliciously filling.

"You've... got to s.—stop... clenching." He pushed in the whole length, deadening your movements. You'd think he'd fear breaking you, but no. Alcides fuckin' Dimitrescu was thrilled to see you finally submitting, even if your body paralysed in the fear of being ripped open, your back arched, breasts stopped wavering in the air, and your breath caught in your throat.

Only when the loudest, most pornographic moan left your lips did Alcides begin to thrust into you, already drunk off of your pussy, ecstatic in ecstasy.

Despite the slow speed, his thrusts were deep enough for legs to start shaking. To your shock, he lifted your legs and since they couldn't reach his shoulder's that stood almost as stall as the fucking ceiling, they were swinging across his forearms, and at this angle he slammed his hips into you.

You screamed, damage was made to your vocal chords as well as your walls when the penetration quickly turned into pummelling, giving you zero time to adjust to the mammoth size of it. On seeing your closed eyes, Alcides smacked your face, gentler than before, yet enough for your eyes to shoot open, face contorting in pleasure at his gesture that was now among your favourites. "Don't let those pretty eyes waver away." His grip on your hips was threateningly tight. "Look into my eyes, or there," his eyes motioned downwards, and it was then you saw the immense bump in your belly. Your eyes widened in profound horror. He had most certainly torn your insides apart, you were sure.

"See how big it is— how well you still take it?" He babbled while vigourously pushing into your poor cunt. "Pl-lease, go... easy on—me." You managed to plead out, but nothing counts stop the possessed Lord. Finally, he got the chance to feel your insides, and there was no way in hell, he thought, he'd let you off easy. Not when you're the biggest threat to his existence, let you wrap so tightly around his monster cock.

Dumbfounded, cock-drunk, utterly paralysed in place, you had no choice but try to get accustomed to the relentless attack your pussy had to endure.

Just when you thought your demise would be the sole pleasure you were forced to undergo, two of his fingers rubbed fervent figure-eights on your bundle of nerves that ached with bloodrush.

You babbled incoherences, whimpering, shaking your head repeatedly when he lifted your lifeless body, just the tip of his cock inside, and switched positions with you. Now, he laid, somewhat upright, hands crossed behind his head. Leisurely eyeing you, while you struggled to breath with his entire length upright inside your walls, his tip pressing against your cervix like an enemy threatening to break down your barriers; your walls.

"M-move... please..." you mewled, causing him to 'tsk' with disdain. "Help yourself, căprița mea mică." He raised a brow, mouth curling viciously into a smirk, "Use me as you please." Your shaky hands reached for his broad shoulders, raising then steadying your hovering self over his cock. His eyebrows wiggled in amusement, awaiting your move comically, until the feel of your walls struggling to take in his tip pulled him back into a trance of pleasure.

He let out an animalistic groan that lingered to be what you swore was a whimper, so you did your best to lift your tiring legs and plop down on his cock, upright and pulsating inside you. "I could fuck this pussy every moment for the remnant of my days." He smiled at you, large palms resting on your hot ass, slowly caressing your curves. The gesture, so contradicting to the impaling you were enduring, nearly knocked the air out of you, for when your perplexed eyes met his expectedly ravenous ones, you were shocked to see them replaced by fondness.

"If I'm lucky enough to live," he paused, hands squeezing your ass before sitting upright, pulling you with him. You moaned wantonly when you felt his cock deeper. "Let this be how we wake, how we sleep — in each other's embrace." His eyes widened, as did yours, like deer caught in front of headlights. The feigning look of innocence on his face sent your core spiralling with erotic ache, when his face, not once breaking eye contact, inched forward to stop just in front of your nipple.

You shrieked when he took complete control, earning a whine from you as you just got the hang of dominance, but when you noticed the hellbent gleam of carnality in his eyes, you knew you were in for a ride.

He suckled on your bud while fucking through you. "You're close, aren't you?" He pulled away from your nipple with a pop sound, resting his bearded face on your breast, "I know you are. 'Can feel her tightening around my cock." He chuckled, mouth back on the hardened bud in his presence. You sneaked a hand down and rubbed your bundle of nerves, fervently.

His large fingers, jealous of your own, were quick to replace them in driving you to your high. You were practically spoon-fed the orgasm, that took a toll on your fragile body.

No emotion overwhelmed every hemisphere, every neurone of your brain like ever before. Your mind went spiralling away, like an eternal shore hugging the lunar tide for the first time a night, your shore's dry spell was over, and your body did it's best to fight the feeling and drive a stake through his lustful heart, but your body was worn out; used as any lucky ragdoll would be.

The overstimulation sent you back to Earth at godspeed. His movements were sloppy, but not faltering, and soon enough, he let his seed bathe your walls a pearly shade. "Take it all— carry my seed." He moaned, absentmindedly.

When you plopped onto his shoulders, he lifted you up single-handedly and laid between your legs. You instinctively closed them; despite being too fucked out of it, you still cringed at how both your cum leaked out of you, ruining the sheets and everything between.

"Alcides, no—"

You were a second too late in pleading, for he grabbed you by the legs, placed them on his shoulders, and stood up.

You hung upside down, your pussy a stone's throw away from the man's smirked lips. By now, you knew what was about to unfold, yet the first lick to your cum-coated lips sent shockwaves down your spine (rather up?).

He moaned against your clit, the vibrations causing you to writhe in his grasp. His tongue licked your pussy clean, the circular motions on your clit, to the long licks from your clit to slit.

It's crazy how an anomaly like him became your exception — the hunter's favourite prey. With a tongue so skilled, you weren't to be blamed for succumbing to your current situation; not like you could do much in the grasp of a monster like him.

You're lucky his cock didn't fuck a new hole into you.

When his large palms let go of your hips, you wrapped your legs around his neck instinctively. You could've used his vulnerability to your advantage, had your mind not clouded in the ecstasy of overstimulation. It seemed like Alcides thought the same, for he smirked devilishly to himself, letting his talons ghost about your flesh, before slightly retracting to pinch and squeeze your nipples. He placed open mouthed kisses on your clit that not once stopped throbbing.

You shook in agony, his mouth worked tantalisingly slow on your burning hot cunt. Deciding to show mercy, an unlikely thing for the tyrant Lord, he smiled at your frame hanging tightly from his; your breasts heaving under his touch, obstructing his view of your pleasure-stricken face.

Lord Dimitrescu plunged his tongue inside you, placing one hand on your hip to push and grind you against his tongue, and you swore every atom in your body was swollen with pleasure.

"No... n-no more..." Your beseech was deemed adorable by the man tongue-fucking you. He pulled out, slithery wet tongue, coated in your juices, leaving you breathless. He lapped at your wetness, growing per minute as he so desperately coaxed more out of you.

Dumbfounded, pussy-drunk, utterly engrossed in place, you had no choice but try to get accustomed to the relentless devouring of your pussy at the hands of your sworn enemy.

One of his hands snaked to your clit, the ever fervent pace of his movements drove you to madness. Your body stilled, eyes rolled back, breath hitched, and it was when his tongue flicked inside of you that you realised that you were doomed.

After drinking your juices clean, Alcides placed you gently on his bed, and by the time he laid next to you, you had already wandered off in dreams.

Your mother awaited your letters.

Perhaps, she'll be rejoiced to hear you alive and well, or maybe she'll be mortified that you're alive and well, and The Dimitrescus live and breath, still. Either way, she and the rest of the world better get used to you signing every final letter as 'Lady Dimitrescu'.

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bwabys-scenarios · 3 months

Note

vampire kurapika thoughts? :D

Vampire Kurapika HCs SFW/NSFW

!!REBLOGS OPEN!!

warnings: period sex, creampie, breeding, pussy eating

taglist: @desiray562 @lovelyxkazuha @ashdownunderscorebeloved @stygianoir @lightshowerrr @highbats69

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!‼️

SFW

-he is very hesitant to bite you. if you tell him it’s okay, and that you even want it, me may nibble you. although he LOVES the taste of your blood, he gets anxious hurting you and feeding from you in a way that could potentially harm you if he takes too much. he prefers to feed from you in… other ways.

-he is COLD to the touch, so he has a bad habit of snuggling up to you and putting his hands under your shirt to get warm. vampires can only feel warmth when touching humans or consuming blood, so let’s just say he’s very touchy.

-he’s been alone for centuries, forcing himself into a life of solitude out of fear that he would be hunted down, or that he would hurt someone. so when you, the cutest human he’s ever seen wants to spend time with him, he gets clingy and FAST

-Kurapika is so clingy, following you around at night and watching over you. you end up changing your sleep schedule a bit so you can be up with him more often, since he rests during the day. he doesn’t sleep, but gets a bit lethargic and wouldn’t be in the mood for anything but cuddles. so if you want you want to do any sort of activity with him, it has to happen in the evening to the early morning when he’s awake and energized

-again, this man is clingy and he is TOUCH STARVED!! he wants constant attention and affection, even if he’s a bit shy asking for it. he’s been alone for so long, and he loves you so much! please give him all the snuggles and kisses he wants :(

-his protective and possessive tendencies border on yandere. you’re his treasure, his precious little angel, he won’t let anyone take you away from him.

-he has a few cat like behaviors. first, he purrs! it’s so cute, but don’t point it out or he’ll become self conscious. another thing he does is knead at any of your soft spots, like your tummy or thighs. anything that’s nice and soft and perfect for squishing! he also tends to curl up with your forehead warmth like a cat as well :3

NSFW

-This man… period sex… ugh…

-he was absolutely terrified at the thought of losing control and feeding on you, so when he smelled the delicious aroma of blood on you in the middle of the night he panicked. he tore off your clothes to find the wound and try to help you before his mind was taken over by his thirst… and found the source. your pretty pussy was drenched in blood. he wasn’t an idiot, he knew what a period was, and he was just awestruck at the lovely sight before him.

-safe to say he ate your pussy well into the night, giving you gently kitten licks and soft sucks to your clit. you woke up with the pain in your abdomen feeling slightly better, and your boyfriend looking up at you from your pussy adoringly. “so good… mmph…” he purred, his mouth and chin covered in blood.

-not only is he scared to drink from you, he was also scared to have sex with you. he sees you as an angel, a pure being, and having sec with a creature of the night such as him was an act of sin. it didn’t take long for him to sink his cock into you after you begging and whining for it, but he felt bad after :( he got over it, though, when he saw how cute you looked with that satisfied smile on your face

-he makes love, and is always putting your pleasure first. he can be a bit rough and forget his strength when he fucks into you for the first few times, but he’s never had sex, and all those centuries alone really wear down on a man :( he just wants you so bad, his vampire instincts telling him to stuff you full of his cum to make more little vampires

-all he wants is to make you happy. he adores you, and your face, fucked out and satisfied turns him on to no end. you just look so cute all full of his cum!

291 notes · View notes

the-kr8tor · 2 months

Text

In Pursuit of Blood: A trip down goblin lane.

Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x fem! Vampire hunter! Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Synopsis: You, an amateur vampire hunter, find it really hard to kill the one vampire you were tasked to kill.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparingly, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), same universe as the WWDITS series, CW blood, TW violence, CW suggestive, Mockumentary AU, established relationship, Fluff.

A/N: Special thanks to @al1x00 (ly fr) for the idea! Happy 1k! 🫶 (Enjoy my attempt at humor lol)

Navigation

Hobie's Masterlist

The camera focuses on a leather clad man sitting on a patchwork armrest. His long leg is crossed over the other, metal clinking against each other when he moves. He places his elbow on the armrest, hand under his chin, ringed fingers tapping on his cheek—bored and clearly disinterested. Red eyes lined with dark eyeliner, piercings glimmering under the camera lights, sharp nails painted, he makes the crew suck in a breath.

He's the perfect picture of a rockstar.

The dimly lit gothic home provides the perfect backdrop to the ‘confession booth’, various books, knick knacks from far flung places are littered all over the living room. A grand piano stands proudly to his left, dark oak polished and well taken care off. Tapestries from the sixteenth century are tacked on the walls next to seventies and eighties band posters. His coat rack is full of jackets that look like they come from different times in history.

The producer nods at him, asking for the man's name, his voice just above a whisper so that the microphones don't catch the sound.

He sighs, jaws tighten for a second. “Name's Hobie, Hobie Brown.” His voice shakes the crew's bones. The blond haired producer clears his throat and Hobie rolls his eyes like a spoiled celebrity. “And I'm a vampire.” he says flatly.

The blond gestures for him to continue, asking him how old he is. “Fuckin' hell.” Hobie says under his breath. “Were you not taught manners? Come off it, you don't ask a vampire their age.”

The clipboard holding man, who pretends to be important, asks him why he agreed to the interview if he's so disinterested.

“Fine,” He smiles, showing his sharp fangs, the simple act makes the documentary team's heart skip a beat. “Before you say ‘m following a trend of vampires givin' interviews and a ‘peak behind the cape’ like the wankers in staten island or the lovebirds in dubai. ‘m not, ‘m only doin' this because,” he points dramatically at the clipboard holding man. “Your director told me all proceeds from this goes to charity. And it better be—”

Something thumps outside. The camera sharply turns to the closed floor length curtains.

“Oi, eyes back ‘ere.” Hobie exclaims, the camera whizzes back to his figure. “Again, vampire, been alive for…” he inhales, “a long bloody time. Been a pirate, a cowboy, hell even a rockstar. But always an anarchist.” He says proudly. “I've been rebelling against the one who bit me for centuries,” the camera zooms in on his scowl. “Hate that knobhead.”

Something falls right outside his windows, a groan and a curse sounding out, voice muffled by the walls.

The crew expects Hobie to hiss or even deal with the intruder but he smiles, posture loosening up.

“That,” he points at the source of the ruckus. “That’s a vampire hunter.” Smiling, the crew could hear a muffled ‘fuck you’ behind the walls. “She's been hunting me for a few years now. She—eh, hasn't been close.”

The cursing was louder, camera swishing towards the source, your angry face peeking out from the curtains. The boom mic captures your annoyed growl clearly as you place your face as close as possible on the glass.

“Fuck you, Hobart!”

He chuckles as the crew's face grows with concern. “Don't worry, she's—I guess bad at her job. She's interestin’ though. Y’know what, let me just show you.” He stands up, the cameras and the entire crew follows him through the hallways of his home.

The cameraman almost trips on a stray guitar on the floor. “Careful now, that was a present from some rockstar in the seventies. That's why I leave it on the floor, it works best as a boot scraper.”

Hobie stops in front of double doors, scenes of a love story are carved on the wood.

“It was a gift.” He addresses the doors, “not my first choice but where else would I put the bloody thing?” With a small push, hands braced on both doors, he reveals the expansive room lined with hundreds of paintings and photographs.

He sucks in his teeth. “The entire house is a gift, I'd rather live in a boathouse honestly but this works fine I guess.” Shrugging, he points at the oldest looking wood carving hanging on the wall. A man kneels in front of a woman, rose in his hand as she looks down at him with glee.

“Yes, that's me courting. The wood carver fucked up the scene though, it was more like me ravaging– uh” he clears his throat “…this won't show in pbs right?”

The people behind the cameras shrug as Hobie looks to them for an answer.

“I'll tone it down then, for the children, just in case.” He continues down the lineup of pictures.

Stopping by a large painting of what looks like Hobie in medieval clothing. The painted version of him is surrounded by flowers and trees. His antlers protruding from his head, webs clings to his arms.

“This was when people thought I was fae.” He makes a face, “everyone was tripping on shrooms back then.” walking towards the middle of the room, passing by a few more paintings and tapestries, He pauses on a yellowed painting of a woman who looks similar to you, only less angry.

“Look at her,” sighing, the vampire has heart eyes while looking at the painting. “this was before she was cursed by that bitcharse jealous witch. Now every descendant of hers is cursed to never harm me or any of my spawns, which is bad because they all think I killed their ancestor, and all they want is to kill me. A consequence of dating a vampire hunter during the fifteenth century, I guess.”

“The curse is a two way street, they can't kill me, I can't hypnotize them. It's not that I want to anyway.” he continues.

Another ruckus echoes throughout the house. Hobie smiles again. “I believe she doesn't know about it, so hush, yeah?” He does a double take. “Wait, can you cut that part out?”

—

The second crew runs towards you as you climb the tresses of the house. The camera lens zooms in on your clumsy climbing. Looking down, hearing leaves crunch underfoot, you yelp in surprise.

“What—?!” Losing your hold, you fall on a bush, landing directly at his wild flowers. “Ow! Who the fuck—?!”

—

Now sitting down on a lawn chair, leaves stuck in your hair, face and clothes covered in dirt, you scowl at the producer behind the camera.

Sighing, clicking your tongue, you answer their questions with another question. “Who the fuck are you guys?”

You raise an eyebrow at the words ‘documentary crew’ uttered by the producer.

“Seriously? Who would want to interview Hobart? Scratch that, is it because of those fuckers in staten island?”

A cameraman answers, ‘for charity.’

You blink in surprise, “charity? You fuckin' kidding me? Well if it's for the kids then.” sighing, you resign, looking directly at the camera with disdain, you say your first name. “And I'm a vampire hunter, I mean obviously I am just looking at all the stakes and holy water strapped to me. I look like I'm very fun at parties.” You say jokingly, “and church, probably. Dunno never been.”

The camera cuts back to Hobie still in the large room full of paintings and memorabilia.

“— I didn't do anythin’ wrong. They're absolutely mad at me for no reason—” he stops, thinking. “But I guess I was the reason their family was cursed innit?”

He changes subjects, showing the camera a painting near the end of the room.

“Oh this? This is when her great great great great grandfather almost got me, memories huh? He was mighty fit.” The crew zooms in on a gorgeous painting of a man trying to put a stake through Hobie's heart while he smiles up at him like he's smitten.

“Good times.” He chuckles.

—

“Fuck this.” You say, standing up from the chair, grabbing the mic off from your shirt abruptly. The camera follows you as you grab the lawn chair that you were just sitting on. You then proceed to throw it at a stained glass window. Giving you entry to his abode.

“It was gaudy anyway.” Entering the house, your shoes crunch the broken glass.

—

“Huh, she's inside. That's a record.” Hobie says almost excitedly. “I'll show you the rest of the room after this—.”

The double doors burst open, the camera swivels to you and the camera crew behind you. Holding a stake, you scowl at Hobie.

“Hello, darling, how was your commute?” He genuinely smiles.

“I have a car now, fuck you!” You lunge at him.

Lightning fast, he grabs your wrist right before the stake kisses his chest. The camera crews film on the sides, avoiding getting hit themselves.

“Good for you, finally saved up then?”

Lifting your legs, you kick his chest, you tumble, landing on your feet, staring at him menacingly. “Yes! It's a kia!” you scream before you run full speed at him.

“You got a good deal on it? Automatic or manual?”

“No!” You swing at him, he dodges. “I think I got swindled!” Kick “And it's a manual!” Punch “I’m not a pussy!”

Hobie clicks his tongue, avoiding the pointed edge of the stake. “Point ‘em to me, love, maybe I can get you your money back.”

Stepping back further away, you pause while he stands at the end of the room. Changing your hold on the sharp wood, you throw it at him, he leans slightly, dodging the projectile. it hits the wall right next to your ancestor’s portrait.

“You'll just drink him dry like the last guy!”

He shrugs, making a face that makes you want to punch him harder. “Not my fault he was a knobhead.”

You bounce on your feet, pouncing at him. “He was my dentist!”

He moves to the side, seeing you running towards one of the paintings, in danger of getting smashed by you. In his panic, he raises his arm to stop you, accidentally clothes lining you. His wall-like arm hits you right on your face.

Falling harshly on the floor, you're completely unconscious.

Hobie looks at the cameras with concern. “Shit.”

—

You wake up on an ancient looking couch, it's soft despite its appearance. Lifting your head with a groan, headache punching through the back of your head, you grimace loudly at the camera crew still filming in the corner.

Falling back on the couch, you hide your flustered face with your arm, pulling the blanket further up your chest.

“I promise I'm not that bad at fighting.” You murmur, still hiding your face from the cameras. “You just caught me at a bad time.”

Hobie suddenly appears with a whoosh, he holds a metal tray with tea and a hot compress placed on it.

“Who's giving you a bad time?”

You audibly groan. “No one.”

He places the tray on the coffee table, sparing a quick glance at the camera. “I caught you lackin’ you're not always that bad. Tea?”

Wordlessly reaching up, you flip him the bird. Hobie smiles softly, tapping your legs to give him space on the settee. The documentary crew is surprised that you actually move to give way to him.

He sits by your legs, preparing your tea just like how you always take it. Two sugars and a dash of milk. The entire production staff is perplexed to say the least.

With a clink of the tea spoon against the cup, you sit up, wincing slightly. “Can I get another sugar cube?”

Hobie raises a brow, “it's that kind of day huh? What's bothering you, love?”

You scoff, taking a cube for yourself then plopping it in your tea cup. “Nothing.”

He flicks his eyes at the camera with a knowing glance. Resting his elbow atop his thigh, chin placed on his hand, he pokes at your leg using his foot. Wordlessly having a conversation. With a sigh and a frown, you sip at your tea.

“Ex kicked me out. Now I'm living with the family again.”

Hobie's nonchalance drops, hand instinctively reaching out to you until he realizes what he's doing, he retracts his hand back.

“Shit, ‘m sorry. Their loss.”

“Mm-hmm, consequences of living with someone you've only dated for three months.” You finish your drink in one gulp. “‘sides, I don't have to pay rent anymore.”

“You've got shitty taste in partners.” You snort, half agreeing with him. “But you have to live with your psycho family so there's that.”

You laugh, the camera zooms in on Hobie's pleased expression.

“They're tolerable now, mellowed out after they took out count Belois.” You look at Hobie, copying his position like a mirror.

“He was an arse, did all of us a favour.” he stares at your eyes while the camera continues to film, yet you two don't seem to notice them anymore.

“Yeah, wish I was there though.” You say in a small voice. “They never invite me to those hunts. Always left watching outside.”

Hobie reaches towards you again, this time he actually holds you. Long fingers curling around your wrist, his thumb rubbing gently. “If only they know how hard you could kick.”

“You barely moved when I kicked you.” Chuckling, your eyes sparkle under the dim lights.

“Well it's me,” he inches closer to you in the seat, knee brushing against yours. “But if it was any other vampire out there they would have flown.”

You scrunch your face. Laying your hand down to your thigh, Hobie intertwined his fingers around yours properly this time. The camera captures the confusing scene.

“Because they turned into a bat?”

He grins, showing you his teeth, you don't even flinch. “Nah, because you kicked ‘em too hard. Did you hit your head that hard?” Knocking his knuckles against your temple softly, you move back like lightning has struck you.

“No, I'm actually okay, thanks.” You take your hand away, eyes flitting nervously at the camera then to Hobie. “I gotta go, dinner with the psycho family.” Standing up, you take your belongings from the floor. “You know how it is.”

He looks up at you with an unreadable expression, “yeah, I know how it is.” He says forlornly.

Patting his shoulder awkwardly, your hand lingers for a half second. “Bye,” you stare at the crew in the corner, “bye to all of you, I guess. Don't get eaten.”

The camera pans towards Hobie who just shrugs, fangs poking out of his lips.

—

Hobie eats alone in his empty dining room. The table is long, made of strong narra, designed to sit a dozen or so people. He sits in the head of the table, utensils scraping against the bloodied plate. His goblet is full, untouched.

He looks up at the camera on the other side of the table, observing his every move.

“The table's a gift too.” He says before continuing to eat silently.

—

The camera follows Hobie throughout his day. Roaming aimlessly around the house, he floats above the ground, hand and feet sticking on the wall while he dusts pictures that's placed on the highest shelf.

In the afternoon, he writes music on his piano while he flashes back and forth towards the drums and guitar, testing the music he wrote.

The crew captures Hobie burying something in the backyard. Jacket off, tank top and bare arms in full display. Moonlight illuminating his skin. His necklaces clink together as he shovels in dirt, packing the hole in tightly. The producer asks something about familiars and Hobie scowls at the word.

“No, just no. ‘m fully against havin’ familiars, it's fuckin' wrong.” He sticks the shovel harshly on the soil when the producer questions him again. “Ask me again and you'll be the one ‘m burying next.”

The camera shuts off abruptly.

—

The small supermarket's repetitive jingle from the nineties irks Hobie as he shops for some meat. But what irks him more is the documentary crew finding him especially after he went out of his way to hide from them.

He tosses a box of your favourite tea in the basket, annoyed at the team behind the cameras and boom mics. “Do the lot of you have a tracker on me or somethin’?” Shaking his head, he stomps down the aisle, heavy boots thudding loudly on the floor.

With his leather jacket plus all the metal and spikes on him, Hobie looks like a regular punk shopping for groceries. But if you looked closer, stayed too long in his presence, your flight or fight response kicks in, rendering anyone frozen on the spot.

His ruby eyes scan around the soap display, trying to ignore the cameras and people trailing after him, he gets a whiff of a familiar scent: strawberries and cream, it's you.

Hobie's feet move on its own, carrying him towards your direction. He spots you standing in the fruit section, weighing a watermelon in your hands, knocking on it then listening to the sound closely like you're trying to eavesdrop.

“What's the watermelon saying?”

“Christ!” You jump, dropping the watermelon.

Thankfully he catches it before the fruit splatters on the linoleum. “Just me, love.”

Clutching your chest, you take deep breaths. “I thought I smelled something rotten.” He raises a brow at your comment. “What are you doing here? This is far from your place.”

“First of all, I smell like sandalwood and fresh linen, fuck you.” You snort, rolling your eyes. “And ‘m tryin' to avoid them.” He points behind him, towards the cameras.

“Augh, they're still following you?”

“Apparently I signed a contract, it's not a one time thing.” He places the watermelon back to the crate, taking one that is riper and sweeter just for you. He then gently drops it in your cart, you nod a thanks.

“I told you before don't sign anything when you're drunk off of alcohol filled blood.”

“You're right, lovie, should've listened to you. Can't blame me when I only hear music whenever you open your pretty mouth.” He leans on your cart nonchalantly, giving you his signature smirk that has people falling over themselves for centuries.

“That's not much of a compliment.” You grimace, unaffected by his charm. “Listen, since we're in a public place I'm not gonna try to kill you so please get off my cart, I've got some shopping to do.” Shaking the trolley, he leans away, dismayed. “Also, the owner seems to like me, which is rare enough, so I don't want to ruin my relationship with the old lady. Shoo, Hobart, I'm off the clock.”

“You've got two people who like you now. One more than the other, I suppose.”

You narrow your eyes towards the vampire. “Who's the second one.”

Hobie walks backwards, arm wrapped around his basket, smile blinding everyone in its vicinity. “Me, darling, isn't it obvious?”

The bright fluorescent lights shouldn't do him any favours but by god, he looks amazing under it.

You don't answer, the camera zooms into your hands gripping the handles of the shopping cart, chest heaving, swallowing thickly.

He leaves, going towards the cashier to pay for his groceries. And you spot a sign that's labeled ‘50% off on garlic!’ you glare at the camera, pushing the cart towards the display.

—

Hobie sits on his work table, pieces of a TV are jumbled out on the table as he tinkers with them. His hands shake slightly, he should really feed.

“—‘m pretty good with technology, not like the other vampires. I've adapted well with—” he sniffs, “wait, what's that smell?”

He opens the door to find thousands of garlic circling around his house, “what—?”

“Tada!” You pop out from the side, hands carrying bushels of garlic, no doubt smelling like it too. “Wait, no, not tada, that's in poor taste because you hate them.”

Hobie gags at the smell, eyes watery and irritated. “This is a bad idea!” He rubs at his eyes, tears fully streaming on his cheeks.

“Why? Because it's working?!” You cackle, throwing the vegetable like confetti, one lands right on top of your head.

“Because it attracts—!”

You screech when you feel a sharp tug at your coat. A little green creature shrieks at you, the sound rings your eardrums, almost breaking the boom mic. Its eyes are dark and glassy, ears pointed, teeth sharp.

“A Goblin?!” Falling on your ass, you crawl backwards, watching as more and more of them appear from the bushes.

“I'm a goblin.” The one with a worn out party hat says, voice cracking like foil.

“What are you a Pokémon?!”

Hobie runs after you as fast as he can with the garlic hindering him. “Get inside!” He yells, dragging you towards the door. His hands sizzle atop your arms, the garlic searing his skin.

The creatures skidaddles towards you, towards the smell of garlic. Waves upon waves of green skitter and crawl on all limbs, eyes hungry, mouths agape.

“Hobie!” You hold on to his wrists as the ground scratches your back. Kicking an incoming goblin, you yelp as the door closes at the nick of time.

Claws scratch at the windows and walls. One of them even bangs its head hard on the glass just to get to you.

Hobie hides you behind him, eyes still stinging and skin aflame. “Get to the basement!” He screams when one breaches the house with glass shattering. “Go!”

Running down, Hobie lets you and the crew go first. He grabs a cutlass from the wall, chopping one that comes a little too close to your leg.

You look back at him with worry. “Hobie!”

“I'll be there! Just go!” He grabs one by the neck, throwing it away haphazardly.

It yells a faint ‘whee’ as it sails through the house.

Reaching the large basement, you search for the light switch, a cameraman beats you to it and you yelp at the sudden brightness.

The basement is full of things from different centuries. An iron maiden lays discarded on the corner, its steel rusted and brown. A sculpture of a woman sits on a shelf, it looks like it's a long lost work of Rodin. There's a large tapestry depicting a vampire war that is now collecting dust on the wall.

But the thing that catches your eyes is the massive metal cage that sits in the middle of the room. You would gawk but the swarm of goblins are nearing the basement. The familiar thumping of boots shakes you with relief.

“Cage!” Hobie grabs you effortlessly, you have no time to react as he carries you like a duffel bag by your waist.

The crew follows frantically, closing the metal doors shut behind them just as the swarm gets close. They shriek and bang on the bars, little arms trying to reach towards you.

He lays you back to your feet, dropping the drenched sword on the ground, palms still healing. He cups your face, searching for any injuries.

“You alright?” He heaves, out of breath, legs covered in goblin bites and palms searing but he looks at you like you're the one who's bleeding.

Staring at him with your irises blown out, mouth slightly parted, you embrace him to his surprise and the crew's.

“I'm okay,” you lean away before he could hug back. Hands placed on his shoulders, nails digging into him like he's about to be yanked away from you. “Are you?”

Hobie forgets about the other people inside the cage and the goblins trying to nibble at him. It's only you in his hands, even though the pungent smell of garlic makes his nose itch. Eyes tender, touch gentle, he could only nod.

“Yeah, I'm good now.” His voice lacks the usual charm.

You can finally breathe. “I thought…I'm the only one that's allowed to kill you.”

Chuckling, he traces your jaw with his thumb. “I know. You're first in line, darling.”

The crew stands near the sides awkwardly.

—

The goblins are trashing Hobie's basement, and based on the sounds from upstairs, they're also wreaking havoc in the entire house.

You sit back to back with Hobie in the middle of the cage, away from the bars, hands braced to your sides, his own are mere inches away from yours. He's glad that the garlic smell has wafted away from you, but not enough to get rid of the goblins still hankering for your flesh.

The crew stays away from the openings of the cage whilst a handful of the creatures try to grab at their equipment. It's been hours since the initial attack and everyone's getting hungry and thirsty, including Hobie.

“Why do you even have a dungeon in your basement—? Wait, scratch that, don't answer.” You try to pass the time.

“It was for your great great uncle—”

“Ew!”

“Get your head out of the gutter.” He says flatly, hands shaking from hunger. “I got it so he has a safe place to transform every full moon.”

“What? Huh, so that's why that branch of the family is so hairy.”

He changes the subject. “What were you thinkin’ with the garlic?” Hobie lays his head right on your shoulder, craning his neck to face you, he uses the closeness to memorize your face. His crimson eyes are dimmer than you're used to.

“I dunno, I thought it was a genius idea back then. Y’know, trap you inside, starve you then when you're weak enough I'd put a stake through your heart.”

“It's a good thing you're bloody fit.” He murmurs, chuckling quietly. “You almost got me though.” Your ears pick up the fatigue in his voice.

“And here I thought you fancy me for my amazing personality.”

“That too.” He smiles weakly, feeling the ache in his bones. “We need to get out of here.” His jaw visibly tightens, wanting to get away from you and your scent. Unfortunately it's not so easy when you're trapped.

“I know,” You sigh, Hobie sits up, covering his ears with the heels of his palms. “You okay?”

“I can hear your blood rushing through your veins.” He bites the inside of his cheeks. “Fuck, we really need to get out of here.” Standing up on wobbly feet, you help him up while the crew stands as far as they can without getting slashed by goblin claws.

“You're hungry.” You state the obvious.

“Starvin’” his red eyes flick down to your neck, already feeling guilty from the simple look.

You swallow thickly. “When was the last time you drank?”

“A couple days ago.” His vision blurs.

“Why are you starving yourself?” Scolding him, you guide him back down on the cold granite. “Hobart.”

“Why do you keep callin' me that?” Cold hands against your own, his eyes zeroes in on your face, avoiding the veins in your neck. “You sound like her when you call me that.”

Your eyes soften, warming him with your palms atop his cheeks, you worry. “You haven't answered my question.”

He groans, head lolling backwards. “Got busy, forgot what day it was.”

“Busy with what?” You click your tongue, lifting his head back up with your hands under his head. You search his hungry eyes, making a decision you could regret in the long run.

“If I let you feed, will you be able to get rid of the goblins?”

That has him picking his head back up, waking him up from his hungry stupor. “What—?”

You reiterate, voice determined. “If I let you drink from me can you get your strength back and get rid of the little fuckers?”

“Y/N, I can't let you do that.”

“I know what happens if you don't feed and judging by how the goblins are devouring your entire house like some frat, they aren't leaving soon enough.” You ball his shirt in your hands for emphasis. “I'm letting you drink, just this one time so we could all go home.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Just don't turn me into your spawn, deal?”

Hobie cracks a smile, fangs glinting off the basement lights. You suddenly feel your nerves kicking in.

“I promise I won't. Just tell me if it gets too much, yeah?”

“Okay,” you inhale deeply, tugging down the collar of your shirt, showing him what he needs. “Don't drink me dry.”

“That depends, for all I know you taste brilliantly.” His joke alleviates your fear a little. You're both unaware of the cameras watching, recording everything. Even forgetting that they were there in the first place.

His hand is on the back of your neck, the other is gripping on to your arm like his life depends on it. Eyeing your skin, lips brushing along it, fangs barely piercing, he gives you enough time to lean away.

“Hurry on with it, I need to pee.”

With a deep chuckle, he sinks his teeth in you.

Gasping, you bite down on your bottom lip, stifling any sounds. But Hobie can hear them from your chest, feel how your body quivers with every suck and nip from his teeth.

You whimper and he holds on to you tighter.

He wants to devour you whole, his instincts tell him to ravage you until you're dry and limp in his arms— to rip you apart with his bare teeth. But he doesn't, he's careful and gentle like he's drinking nectar straight from a flower.

“F-fuck…” you let out, hands shaking, sliding down to the back of his neck, pressing him closer.

He turns warmer with your crimson flowing through him, not letting a single drop of the precious liquid dribble from his mouth.

Hobie feels like his dead heart beats once again after centuries.

Eyes closed, you feel like you're on cloud nine. You look like it too, eyes hazy, lips parted, hand holding on to him weakly.

Before he could drown in you, Hobie carefully eases his teeth out from your pierced skin, maw covered in your blood, thumb pressing down to your wounds to stop the bleeding.

It will scar, but you're alright with that thought.

He feels anew. His eyes are sharper, adrenaline coursing through him like your blood in his system. His ears perked at every breath you let out. Eyes blown up like the size of dinner plates, his warm breath fans your cheeks.

Half of him regrets doing it, now that he has gotten a taste, he can't go back to biting random rich assholes. His other half delights in your after taste, so sweet and nectarine that makes him crave more.

You crane your neck slowly like molasses to look at him sweetly through your half lidded eyes, and a soft yet tired smile on your lips. Still clinging into euphoria, vision swirling and heart beating a thousand times per second. You feel like you've ascended and you'll never go down from it.

Licking his teeth, Hobie resists the urge to dive back in. But he's more than that, you're more than a blood bag.

“You alright?” He whispers, he smells like you.

You hum, smiling giddily like a child who just got what she wanted.

“‘m gonna go and kill some goblins now. Stay here for me?”

You hum a tune that sounds like a rendition of ‘happy birthday.’ Giggling, you pat his cheek.

“Yeah, you'll be alright. I'll get you some orange juice after this.”

“Orange sounds nice… such a pretty color. And cookies, yum.” You chortle like you just heard the best joke. “Oh handsome, so handsome. I'm gonna bite you back one day.” Staring up at him, your eyes roll back, falling unconscious.

“Lookin' forward to it.”

Hobie gently lays you down on the floor, standing up, ears listening to your fast heart beat, but it's not enough proof for him. Eyes observing your chest, watching it go up and down, making sure he didn't go too far. Satisfied, he points at the crew cowering in the corner, their cameras still rolling. The documentary won't air anywhere at this rate.

“Watch her.” He says sternly, eyes glaring.

They all nod frantically.

With a swift kick to the metal door, he strikes down every goblin he sees.

—

You sit on the same patchwork armchair, sipping on a warm cup of tea, comfortable and content in your seat. The two pin prick scars on your neck peeks under your collar. The camera has you in the spotlight, zoomed in on your freshly washed face.

“Do you know about the curse?” The man behind the camera asks, his voice wavering with every word like it's taboo to mention it.

“What curse?” You watch as their faces morph into panic. “I'm fucking with you,” you laugh at their expense.

“Of course I know about it. Why do you think I hunt him down? For fun? Well, partly because of it but we broke that curse like five generations ago when my ancestor figured it all out and made friends with the witch.”

Smiling fondly, you continue. “She's my godmother now. Don't tell him.” You warn. “Hunting him down is an initiation for us really, a tradition to try and kill him, just really doing our best to cause damage. He's pretty powerful.”

Laying your elbows on your knees, you look directly at the camera.

“I mean you've seen the room right? He's fucking obsessed, someone has to off him or just—I honestly think he should just move on.” shrugging you sip your tea that he made for you.

“Is that why you're living with him?” They ask unabashedly. The camera zooms out, showing you still in your pajamas, complete with fluffy slippers.

“Uh—”

Hobie appears in the corner, leaning on the doorway casually, a similar pajama pants hanging low on his hips.

“Darling, have you seen my good jumper—?”

You take your crossbow from under the chair, twisting in your seat, you aim it at his head, shooting, the arrow whizzes past him, he ducks down as the arrow imbeds into the oak.

Hobie laughs on the floor, lifting up a black and red jumper. “Found it!”

“Goddamnit.” The word is laced with endearment. You turn back towards the crew, eyes narrowed at them. “Wait, why are you guys here so early?”

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

A/N: Thank you for reading! And happy 1k! 🎉

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miwachan2 · 8 months

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#fnaf vampire au #fnaf daycare attendant #Vampire sundrop #Vampire Moondrop #fnaf sundrop #fnaf moondrop #dca au #fnaf sb #fnaf security breach #Vampire Hunter!Y/N #color #Vampiric Equinox #queued post #zimlovesme #dca x reader

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shattersstar · 1 year

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bound

pairing: vampire x reader

summary: He supposed this was his true home, not the house he had kept himself locked in, but the wooden box with your picture in it. Dutifully kept under his pillow, bringing you to the land of dreams with him—if he could dream. It was a bitter punishment for the life he lived, the transgression—sin—he supposed would be held against the two of you. For how he wanted you more than anything, how he would tear whole cities to shreds at your behest and let the hunters who lurked in your town meet his fangs if you so desired. It was gluttony, to take eternal life and still want more.

warning: horror-ish elements, blood mention., religious undertones (aka general vampire themes/concepts)

a/n: i have so much to say about this lil piece of writing omg okay, i wrote this back in May i believe around the time i was reading we have always lived in the castle and it Shows. its lowkey fantasy which is not like anything i write but the horror-ish vibes r pretty consistent with my original stuff. it is heavily inspired by a lot of the vampire media ive consumed too though even if its not based on one particular character. i have been thinking about it since i wrote it and while im a bit ehhh about posting something original i quite literally have nothing else to share and as i said before y’all keeping i’d still eat the fruit in my notifs is so :)))) so this is a thank you to y’all and a Step back into writing for me hopefully. ramble aside enjoy ! feedback and comments r always appreciated

—

It had rained, no—poured, stormed, hailed, cried, screamed. It had swept in during the day, white noise to him as he slept, while it greeted you during breakfast. The clouds wept over the lands in what felt like divine punishment. It was as if nature or something higher than that was against him, accosting or trying to stop him. As he stood at the edge of the great forest, rain pelting the top of his head he assumed there was nothing greater than nature. Not even him. There was nothing higher nor more humbling. God could spite someone, but nature enacted it. It flooded your sleepy town and even sleepier forest and he was on the other side. Confined to his home until the storm cleared and the sun rose.

He would not be graced with your presence yet again and he tried to ignore the call to change you, to have his fangs pierce your skin and his blood run across your tongue. He gritted his teeth, reminding himself of the hurt it brought and he would never cause that for his love. His dearest who lived on the other side of the forest he was unable to cross. His icy glare moved along the border, not even noticing the rain drenching his billowing black cloak anymore. Somewhere in the forest a branch snapped and animals chattered.

He would live for eternity, he could wait for you. It was his resolution before heading back to his home in the woods and trying not to be angry, to let fury run through his long dead veins and restart his stilled heart. If anything—anyone—could, he knew it was you.

He followed the path compacted over the years of those travelling to stare at his home, humans daring each other to go near it, but never following through when the windows shuddered and a figure moved past one of them like a ghost. Times had changed, but people were as superstitious as ever. They saw his decayed and rotted home and prescribed evil to it. It was overrun with vines, leaves would not grow on them. Even in spring. They stayed black, and gnarled, tightening their hold in his house each season. Thorns protruding from some of the thicker vines, protecting him it seemed. You had noted that, staring at his wondrous home with bright eyes.

It was in a clearing in the forest, grey stone withered away and swallowed by nature. It still stood strong, the outside a grotesque picture that did not reflect the inside. Oil lamps and lighting fixtures alike lit the space from the inside out. It warmed the walls, revealing the deep brown wood panelling that made up the older parts of the house. The stairs were still the original wood, a grand staircase that greeted no one, but him and you these days.

Many of the rooms upstairs had been closed off, sheets gently placed over the old furniture and doors closed forever. He had no need for such space, other vampires stopped visiting when hunters started lingering in your town. You had told him of your many encounters, most were smart enough to stay out the forest, but they still killed many of his kind. Finding them in their carriages amongst the cars rolling down the freshly paved roads. Horses killed along with whoever dwelled inside. They saw themselves as vigilantes, but you had told him most of your town considered them a nuisance. Urban men thinking they can save the more rural lands that bordered their great cities. Cities that forgot the magic that once thrived in places like the forest.

“Their thinking of building a highway through it, connecting us to other towns or one of the bigger cities.” You had explained one day, sitting in his lap and letting him hold you. He hummed, long fingers curling into the fabric of your sweater. You placed your warm hand over his and leaned further into his chest. He asked you to let him hold you and you had obliged like always.

He kept those memories in mind, the soft questions he would extend your way and how you listened so dutifully. May I hold you? Will you lay with me? Come walk through the cellar? Can I drink your—

His fist slammed against his dinning room table, nearly snapping it in two as a crack ran jagged through the centre of the chestnut coloured wood. His fangs were out, nails morphed into claws dug into his skin and blood dripped into the crack. He stared at it, muscles in his face twitching as he waited for it to end. Waited for the creature in him to return to laying dormant and his own clear, sound mind to return. Though he supposed it was never very clear or sound anymore, not when you had burrowed inside of him and promised to never leave. And as if his thoughts beckoned you themselves, the old telephone in his study rang. It’s shrill scream echoed through the quiet house, though the ring was discordant, snapping in two halfway through its loop and screeching a pitch higher. The noise made his pointed ears twitch and with a swoop of his cloak he was in his study. He answered it on the normal ring, cutting it off right before it went off tone.

He held the phone to his ear, but waited to speak. “Hello?” You asked, your voice soft and worried. You’d never called him before—truthfully he had no idea this phone even worked.

“Hello my love.” He returned, and you breathed out a happy sigh.

“Oh my god, hi! I found this number in some old directory—phone book thing,” You explained with an airy giddiness that he wished to share, “I wasn’t sure if it was going to work, but…” You trailed off and he was smiling fondly into the receiver.

“I have missed you.”

“I miss you too, I hate this weather I can never get through the forest when its so rainy.”

“I know.”

“Maybe they should build a highway through it, I could hitchhike my way to see you.” You laughed, but he turned somber. Industrialization finally touching the sacred land of the forest didn’t sit right within him. It may be the great divider that kept him away from you, but it was his home. A highway felt like you were asking to be swept away, to a new town or bigger city that he could not adventure too. He could ask you to stay—he knew you’d oblige—but it was not his place to keep you here. “Is your phone one of those spin, dial ones?” You asked suddenly, breaking through the tension he hadn’t meant to create.

“A rotary phone?” He corrected with a ghost of a grin, “Yes it is.”

“I want to see it when I come over again.”

“And so you will.” It was quiet again and he hadn’t noticed the tears running down his face. He didn’t know he was able to cry anymore.

“I love you.” You whispered, holding your cellphone close, likely curled up in bed and staring out your window at the rain and the forest beyond it.

“I love you dearest.” His voice did not betray the sadness building in him. “Sleep beloved, I will see you soon.”

“Yes, I’m gonna come see you and your rotary phone.” You laughed, forced and watery.

“Soon.”

“Soon.” You repeated, and hung up. He kept the black phone, laced with intricate gold details, to his ear for a moment longer. He had heard your voice at least and could sleep. He moved through his home, snuffing out candles and flicking off switches before finding the one room without windows. A coffin laid on the floor, dark brown and glistening with the finish that had been applied centuries ago.

He supposed this was his true home, not the house he had kept himself locked in, but the wooden box with your picture in it. Dutifully kept under his pillow, bringing you to the land of dreams with him—if he could dream. It was a bitter punishment for the life he lived, the transgression—sin—he supposed would be held against the two of you. For how he wanted you more than anything, how he would tear whole cities to shreds at your behest and let the hunters who lurked in your town meet his fangs if you so desired.

It was gluttony, to take eternal life and still want more.

Though it was hard to think of such evil things when looking at your face, he had taken the photo while you were on the roof. Wind had wiped your clothes into a frenzy and you laughed as the night sky twinkled behind you. He had taken it and was surprised when you’d given it to him only a few days later. He had kept up with modern technology as well as he could, but there was always something so magical about photographs to him. He collected hundreds over his life time, faces he knew and others he didn’t. Organized neatly into a collection of books, which he’d let you look through on occasion. He showed you photos from the many lives he’s lived, something about them bringing warmth rushing to your face.

He was always so devastatingly beautiful, regal and hypnotic across all eras. Yet, he couldn’t focus on the kind words that bubbled from your lips as the rushing of the blood under your skin nearly shattered something inside of him. His fangs threatened to meet your skin, but with calculated focus he reigned in his hunger. It was hard at first—you were the only human he had been around in decades—but he did it for love.

Everything he did was for love, it was his reason for existence it seemed. You had other reasons for your claim to life, but to him? You were all he had, the only reason to not let the sun engulf him or let a hunter kill him. He could not break your heart until you broke his. He let that thought dwell in his mind as sleep overtook him just as the sun rose and the rain ended. Its incessant pitter patter had ceased and he somehow dreamt of you standing golden in the forest and beckoning him closer.

He woke up to your face—maybe it wasn’t a dream—as you crouched next to his coffin. Maybe he had finally died and you were welcoming him to where God decided to send him. If you were there it couldn’t be hell. Could it be?

“My love—“ Your hand pressed to his chest, keeping him still. “It’s still daytime, sleep okay?” You whispered, hand moving to his jaw and cradling his face in your palm for a moment. “I’ll be back in a sec okay, I just need to change.” He nodded against you, kissing your hand before you let him reside in darkness. He had caught a glimpse of your pants caked in mud and could smell the blood from your skinned palms. Despite the slick terrain it seemed you ventured through the forest to see him. It made his chest shudder and for a moment he thought you had actually restarted his heart.

It was only a few minutes later when you were carefully opening his coffin again, now dawning a loose fitting silk shirt that made his red eyes alight with something wild. You had cleaned your scrapes and mud off your skin, smelling faintly of rain water and the lavender soap you gifted him. You stepped over him, nestling against his side and letting him enclose the two of you. One of his arms wrapped around your shoulders as your head rested on his chest, knuckles grazing over your hair while you stretched an arm across his torso. Your legs intertwined with his long ones and you let out a breathy sigh.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, and while you likely couldn’t see as thing, he could see you perfectly. You shook your head no against his chest, yawning into the fabric of his shirt.

“I just wanted to see you.” You murmured, chin resting in his chest as you made hit best attempt at eye contact in the blackness. “I saw the dining room table, are you okay?” You asked, somehow staring through him in the darkness. He offered his hand instead of finding the words in his throat, slowly unravelling his fist to reveal a mark free palm. He wasn’t sure you understand what he meant or if your eyes adjusted enough yet, until you carefully closed it once again, kissing his knuckles and placed your hand over his. You both were silent for a moment, until you looked up at him again and breathed, “You’re all I want.”

“And you’re all I have.” He held you closer, watching a grin pull at the corner of your lips. He was sure it was that devotion, obsession even, with you that would bring about his downfall. Centuries old and all powerful, but reduced to nothing without you. His strength and knowledge meant nothing if he didn’t have you to share it with.

And you could not stand your stagnant life in a town full of people who wished his kind dead. You chose a trek through the forest during the twilight hours of the morning to see him, bringing him soft kisses and silk under his hands as you let your mouth meet his. You kissed him with all the exhaustion and lethargy wrapped up in the two of you, molasses slow kisses that were just as sweet. It was how you fell asleep, lips to his neck and head tucked under his chin before your warm breathed puffed across his pale skin. He fell asleep not long after, engulfing you in his embrace, his cloak draping over your frame as he decided home was where you asked him to be.

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bucketsofmonsters · 1 year

Text

Vows - Part 1

cw: consentual blood drinking, cockwarming, accidental voyeurism, polyamory, more tags will be added as the story continues

male vampire x afab reader

Word count: 6k

Vows Masterlist

You kept your back straight, trying to maintain what little dignity you had left standing before the man on the throne in front of you.

You lost all of that when he looked you up and down and gave you a simple command.

“Kneel.”

You bit your tongue, doing your very best to keep a pleasant look on your face as you got on your knees. He couldn’t know how much you hated him. You wouldn’t blow this.

Your valiant attempt to hide your disdain didn’t seem to have the effect you’d hoped. He looked down at you, sneering, and said, “I was told you’ve been quite eager to get in here. You don’t look eager.”

“I am not in the practice of fawning over men I’ve just met.”

He cocked his head to the side, eyes roaming over you, trying to get a read on you.

His hair was dark, touched with hints of gray. His face was pale and smooth but not uncreased, particularly worn crow's feet in the corner of his eyes telling tales of a smile that you saw no signs of right now.

He looked down at you with eyes that looked faded, like a half-decayed corpse, and spoke through his fangs. “Why did you want to come here?”

You couldn’t pretend it was out of desire, he’d clearly seen right through that. So you tried another tactic.

“I had nowhere else to go,” you admitted, looking up at him with sad eyes.

His brows furrowed. “If you wanted shelter you could have asked for shelter, we would have given it. You took our vows. Why?”

He was right, you had. You’d signed your soul away. Your body too. For what, the chance to live in the home of a leech? You had no idea how anyone could agree to this, how he could have fooled any of the poor people who lived here, who he saw as dinner and as walking sex toys. It was dehumanizing.

But it was also the easiest way to get close to him. To learn his secrets.

His eyes softened as your gaze fell, your combative eye contact turning to something shyer, more nervous.

“We don’t need to talk about that now. But you don’t need to be embarrassed, not here. And you certainly don’t need to be afraid. Whatever your reason, you’re here now, that won’t change unless you want it to.”

He rose from his throne and moved towards you, holding out his hand. You took it as you rose to your feet, not wanting to insult him any more than you apparently already had.

“What can I call you?” you asked, still not having so much as a name for the man.

“Sir is fine.”

It took everything you had not to roll your eyes at him.

“Now,” he said, his hand still wrapped around yours, his grip firm but not strong enough that you couldn’t pull away if you really tried. “I should show you around.”

It wasn’t much of a tour.

He took you through the halls, up a spiral staircase, and past what felt like dozens of doors without uttering so much as a word to you.

The monotony of the tour was disrupted when a young man came barreling down the hall. He was dressed in all white, his hair a curly blond. It was a bit too long and he pushed it out of his eyes as he skidded to a halt only for it to fall dutifully back into place.

“Hey Rook I…” He did a double-take as he saw you. “Oh, hello. Haven’t seen you around here before.”

“I’m new.” Your tone was dry. You could tell from the two marks on his neck that he was one of the vampire’s disciples. You knew it wasn’t his fault he’d been fooled into staying here and fought the urge to resent him, to view anything associated with this monster as bad.

A massive smile took over his face. “Great, it’s always nice to have someone new around! I’m Oliver, by the way.”

“Hello.”

“Listen, I know it can be intimidating here at first but I promise he’s a sweetheart under all the dramatics,” he said, gesturing to the visibly frustrated man standing right next to him.

He didn’t take that well.

“You should run along,” Rook insisted, pressing a quick kiss into Oliver’s forehead and cutting off your conversation. “I think I’m going to have to give some special attention to this one.”

Oliver looked at the vampire with furrowed brows. “Okay. You’re being weird but okay.” He turned to you on his way out. “He’s not usually this weird, I promise. I mean, that’s not actually true, he’s always weird but like… different weird.”

“Oliver!” he hissed, his face twitching into what almost looked like embarrassment.

“Okay, okay, I’m going. Just try not to scare them off.”

As you both watched them trail down the hallway, you turned to Rook and asked, “What happened to everyone calling you sir?”

“I didn’t say everyone had to call me that, I said you did,” he replied, an unmissable snideness in his tone.

Great, you’d been undercover for less than a day and he already didn’t like you.

You hadn’t had much further to go before your little interruption. Your room seemed to be only a few doors down.

Rook held the door open for you, beckoning you inside.

He stood in the doorway looking in at you, not entering the room. “The closet has clothes for you. That’s why we gathered your measurements after you took your vows, everything here should be perfectly fitted to you.”

“Thank you, Rook,” you said with a little curtsy.

“Sir,” he hissed at you, his fangs particularly evident as he spoke.

“Rook,” you insisted, refusing to back down.

He conceded faster than you would have expected, a soft chuckle escaping him at your persistence. “Fine. Rook. Now get some rest. You can pick more of those fights you’re so desperate to pick with me in the morning.”

You immediately turned defensive, terrified of what he was implying. “No, I’m not… I just…”

“I’m not blind, and you have a worse poker face than you seem to think. I’m not worried, I’ve proved less understanding people than you wrong.”

“I really am sorry. I think I’m just nervous.” That much was true at least. You had a feeling your nerves wouldn’t subside until you left this god-forsaken place behind.

“It’s alright,” he promised. “We’ll work on that.”

The words sent a chill down your spine. What was intended to be reassuring felt threatening instead. Something about the way he spoke to you, all straight faces and hushed words, left everything he said feeling sinister. You decided that even if you didn’t know what he was, they would make you feel uneasy.

It only left you more convinced he had the people here under some sort of spell. Surely he couldn’t have won them over, there must be something else at play.

You’d half expected to be forced to stay with him your first night so you let out a sigh of relief as he turned without another word and left you in what appeared to be your own room.

It wasn’t like you didn’t think he had the space, this place could house hundreds, you just weren’t sure of his morals. Or how impatient he would be to test your loyalty to his vows.

You patted at your side, ensuring you could still feel the notebook you’d sewn into your skirts before you came.

It was fairly thin. It needed to be able to let it sit, undetected, in the fabric just below your hip.

You hiked up your skirts, pooling the fabric in one arm as the other reached down and grabbed the silver dagger that lay flush against the inside of your thigh. You hadn’t known where it would be able to lie safe and undetected or how thoroughly you would be checked.

You opened the wardrobe to try and asses where you could go about hiding your contraband from now on, your prior hiding spacing being spoiled by your new host's insistence upon extravagance.

You considered hiding it somewhere in your room but quickly dismissed the thought. At least with them on your person you’d know if you were discovered. With them in your room, you could be compromised and in danger and be none the wiser.

There were more clothes in the wardrobe than you’d owned over the rest of your life combined. There were suits and pants and skirts and dresses of every length, even ones that didn’t quite feel appropriate.

Your gaze was drawn from those scandalous dresses as you realized that some in this closet, shoved into the corner, were sheer. Those you discarded immediately, you wouldn’t give him the pleasure.

Despite all the variety in clothing types, it all seemed a bit one note. You were stricken with endless patterns of black and white. There were a few in plain black or plain white that you gravitated towards but the rest were covered in patterns. Diamonds and stripes and checked skirts, it was enough to give you a headache.

The colors and patterns felt aggressive and gaudy when confronted with a whole closet of them, but you couldn’t help but admit that they were beautifully made. The fabric was the softest you’d ever felt.

You pulled out a black dress, the one that felt closest to what you were used to, and started to put it on. You’d been searching for places where you could sew in secret folds when your hand went right through the skirt and into a pocket.

You pulled the skirt upwards to evaluate and noticed that the stitching was far rougher there than any of the other seams, looking not unlike your secret pockets you’d become adept at making lately.

Their presence couldn’t help but worry you. Who had these belonged to before? Who had felt so unsafe here they’d been set on creating hiding spots close to them.

Whoever they were, they had more sense than the rest of Rook’s victims.

Your fingers ran over the handle of the knife as you shoved it into your new pockets instead of reattaching it to your thigh. It was safer there, better hidden, but you wanted it at hand. You’d been reassured you wouldn’t have to use it, not on your first mission, but it was always good to have.

Just in case.

Your knife was still stowed away but the notebook remained out. You still had work to do.

Quickly, afraid someone may walk in on you at any moment, you scribbled out a summary of your first day here. It wasn’t much but you’d been told to take note of everything. Besides, you’d never hunted a vampire before, you didn’t know what details were important yet.

As you completed and folded up your note, you rushed to the window, unlatching it and looking around quickly for anyone surveilling you.

You noted a distinct lack of onlookers at the same time a pigeon landed on the window frame.

Your face lit up as you saw him, your dutiful little messenger a welcome familiar face in this horrible place. You cooed at him for a moment, giving him a soft pet down his back.

“You’re so good. Told them you could find your way to me.”

But you didn’t have time to fawn over him, you needed to get this note out of here as quickly as you could.

You attached the note securely to his leg and sent him on his way, staying at the window and watching him until you could see him no longer.

With your mission for the night completed and your little friend finally out of sight, you gave yourself permission to rest.

Taking up most of the room was a massive bed, with black blankets pulled over white sheets and sheer black curtains hanging around it.

The bed was so nice and perfect you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb it, instead curling up on top of the perfectly made bed in the house you didn’t belong in.

You woke up with a jolt, already filled with adrenaline. The sun was shining through the window and you felt a pang in your chest at the implications of the fact that you had a window at all. He had to avoid the sun, it caused vampires pain and sapped them of most of their strength. Most avoided houses with windows entirely, wanting a space to hide away from it.

But no, you’d been given a window. This really was your space, a space that half the time he was likely to avoid.

You realized you’d slept in much later than you’d intended. So much for getting up early and poking around.

For most vampires you’d be right where you needed to be, most of them were nocturnal but there were a lot of patterns Rook didn’t follow that most vampires did.

He seemed to prefer following the sleep patterns of his disciples who lived with him, or at least you thought he did based on the little intel you had.

It was his house so he didn’t need to be invited in anywhere. Instead, it had wardings that meant only those invited could step inside, hence why you were on your very first mission, all alone. You were the only one who’d never been in the limelight, who vampires wouldn’t know to watch out for so here you stood, invited inside with the rest of his little humans.

If you couldn’t snoop, you should at the very least try and gather information from him.

You stormed out of your room, set on gathering intel.

You needed to have more to report this time. What you were doing wasn’t cutting it. You were supposed to be proving yourself and instead you were what, wandering around a mansion and picking petty fights?

You didn’t really know where he was so you took your best bet and headed down to the throne room.

He wasn’t a ruler of anything, not really. It felt like it was more for his ego than anything.

The massive wooden doors that led to it were shut with Oliver sitting on the ground beside them, like the world's least threatening guard.

Upon closer inspection you realized he was knitting something, the pile of yarn next to him the same black and white as most of the things in this god-forsaken place. It didn’t help him appear more intimidating, that was for sure.

As you reached for the door handle he made a noise of protest from his seat on the floor.

“I wouldn’t go in there,” he called out. “Rook said not to let anyone in.”

“I don’t care what Rook said,” you insisted. “I need to talk to him.”

“I really wouldn’t if I were you…”

You left his calls of protest behind as you stormed into the room.

Rook was sitting on his throne, but he wasn’t alone.

There was a girl in his lap. You couldn’t see her face, her back facing you as she straddled him. Her long, red hair hid most of her from your sight but it failed to cover her lower half and your face heated at the sight of her plush, unclothes thighs hugging his midsection, her dress hiked up around her waist.

He pulled her head to rest on his shoulder and you caught a glimpse of both her face and neck, a trail of blood gently trickling down her side, staining her white dress bright red. From what you saw she looked completely out of it. You weren’t even sure she noticed you coming in.

“Would you like something,” he prompted, his arm wrapped protectively around the girl on his lap. Something in you churned at the sight and you forced it back down.

You didn’t say a word, turning on your heels and storming right back out of the room.

Oliver looked up at you, fighting back a smile as the heavy door fell shut behind you.

“I tried to warn you,” he said, amusement radiating off of him and you wondered if maybe everyone in this god-forsaken place was an asshole.

You spent the rest of the afternoon seething. You weren’t even entirely sure about what, to be honest, just spending most of your time pacing and feeling generally upset.

When Rook finally decided to show his face, you let it all out on him.

The second he entered the room you were chewing him out. “What the fuck was that? Do you have to be getting your dick wet and feeding constantly? I mean, christ, it’s my first day here!”

He countered your aggression with a roll of his eyes. “You’re mad at me? Maybe if you listened to Oliver it wouldn’t have happened.”

You avoided his gaze sheepishly. He was right, this was your fault. Your anxiety about this whole situation was manifesting as anger and you needed to get it under control. For the sake of the mission.

“If you want to be rude to me, fine,” he continued, “but do not be rude to these people. They’ve done nothing but welcome you here.”

“It’s alright if I’m rude to you?”

“For now. I foresee that changing in the future but I don’t mind a challenge.”

Is that what he thought you were doing? Playing hard to get? It bought you time so you went along with it, wondering how long it would be before his patience snapped and you no longer had a choice

Your thoughts drifted back to the redheaded girl. His body language had read as protective but she’d been bleeding and she didn’t even seem to react to you coming in. Your mind couldn’t help but drift to the worst-case scenario.

“How many people live here?” You asked, trying to get him to reveal if she was one of his pet humans or someone disposable, someone you should start quietly mourning.

“Right now? You’re met both of them. Well, met is a strong word, more like rudely stormed in on.”

If she lived here, she was probably alright. You’d do your best to find a way to check in on her, just to be safe.

At the revelation that only two humans lived here, you thought back to the only face you’d expected to see within these walls. “The man who measured me, the one who permitted me inside and made me take my vows. Where is he? Petyr, I think his name was.”

He was an older man, you’d guess late 50’s. He’d been a calming force when you’d met him, making your mission seem less daunting with the power of pleasant conversation, even if you couldn’t admit any of your real intentions to him.

You would’ve appreciated his presence. Your only hope was that Rook hadn’t already gotten to him.

“He’s traveling,” Rook explained, a faraway look entering his already glassy eyes. “He always wanted to see the world. He’s spent far too many decades trapped in here with me so I sent him off to see it.”

You scoffed. “So that’s it? He got too old and you sent him off? You just discard your little lovers when they’re not young enough for you anymore?”

He looked genuinely hurt by the accusation. “You don’t know anything. I’d give the world for him to be here, for them all to be here. But they have lives to live, certainly more than I do. They’ve more than earned their dreams, I just try to help with the ones I can.”

At the clicking sound of approaching heels, you glanced down the hallway to see a woman with familiar long locks of ginger hair striding towards you.

“I’m done taking insults from you. Play nice with her,” he hissed.

“Or else?”

He didn’t answer before storming off, leaving you to get acquainted with the redhead you’d already seen far too much of.

You turned back to her and saw her looking longingly after him as if she didn’t want to be left alone with you. Part of you couldn’t help but take offense to that. He was the monster, not you. If anything, you were going to be her savior.

She let out a nervous giggle as she shifted her gaze from the hallway where your host had disappeared back down to her dress, a new one without blood dripping down it. “I’m sorry about earlier. Not the most dignified meeting we could have had.”

“It wasn’t your fault, I shouldn’t have been in there.” The mark on her neck had already begun to fade, healing much faster than a regular wound. However, you knew it would never fully heal, his mark would be on her skin for the rest of her life, claiming her.

“Regardless, I'm sorry. You shouldn’t have seen me like that until much later, our third meeting at least.”

She smiled at her own joke and you could help but mirror it.

“I’m Vivian, by the way. It really is lovely to meet you.” Her smile was so genuine it was hard to not have an immediate fondness for her.

“It’s good to meet you too. Can I ask, are you alright?” You asked as you stared at the wound on her neck, the blood that had been spilling down her before completely absent except for that small reminder of its presence.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, just a little embarrassed. Rook says I shouldn’t be but you’re the first new person who’s come since I arrived, I wanted to make a good first impression.”

“No, not that. You just seemed out of it in there, he didn’t hurt you did he?”

“What, Rook? No, of course not. He was taking good care of me, I promise. Has he talked to you about when you want him to drink from you yet? It really isn’t scary, I promise. He’s very gentle.”

“People keep saying that to me and yet I haven’t seen any proof. He’s been nothing but an ass to me.”

That threw her off balance. “He has?”

“I think he thinks I’m a bit obstinate,” you said, hoping that was all it was. The alternative was that he’d become suspicious of you and that was something you couldn’t abide by.

“That doesn’t make sense,” she insisted. “He doesn’t mind a bit of pushback. God knows Oliver can be a handful and I’ve never even seen him get upset.”

“Well, he’s been plenty upset at me.”

“I’m sure you two just got off on the wrong foot,” she insisted. “He’s a little rough around the edges sometimes but hey, who here isn’t, right?”

You couldn’t help but bristle at the comment.

She picked up on your reaction immediately. “No, I didn’t mean… It’s just, we’re all running from something, right?”

You nodded. You needed to stop being so aggressive, you were standing out far too much. “Yeah, of course, you’re right.”

“It’s alright,” she said, resting a reassuring hand on your arm. “It took me ages to get used to this place too. Try not to worry too much, it’ll feel like home before you know it.”

You doubted that.

Vivian wandered off, saying something about taking a nap and you retreated to your room.

You were a mess. It felt like every time you tried to do anything here it ended up being a disaster that got you one step closer to being caught. You collapsed backwards on your bed, set on hiding in your room until morning.

The universe seemed to have other plans.

A knock sounded at your door and you called out, “Who is it?”

“It’s Oliver, I’m coming in.”

He opened the door, not even waiting for you to call him in and he stared down at you, collapsed on top of your blankets.

“Good your still dressed,” he said, extending a hand to help yank you to your feet. “You’re having dinner with Rook at sunset.”

Your blood ran cold at the thought of being alone with him and of what ‘dinner’ could entail for a vampire.

“No.”

“Yes,” he insisted.

“I don’t want to,” you snapped back.

“Too bad. He said, and this is a direct quote, ‘they wanted to speak to me so fucking badly earlier, let’s give them an opportunity.’”

Oliver’s persistence in inviting you made sense, it didn’t sound like an offer one was allowed to refuse.

“Go hang out with Viv in the meantime or something, it’s awfully lonely in here,” he said, not waiting for a response before setting out on the move again. It was almost like he was allergic to standing still.

You followed his advice, figuring you wouldn’t be able to relax knowing what was coming anyways.

Vivian wasn’t hard to find, although you wouldn’t exactly say you found her. One second you were wandering down empty hallways and the next second she was behind you, tapping your shoulder to get your attention.

“Hello,” she said, her persistent warmth immediately setting you at ease, even if her sudden appearance had frightened you.

Vivian was an easy person to get along with. You spent the next few hours milling about with her, not talking about much of importance but passing the time much easier.

She seemed determined to make you feel welcome. It was nice, feeling like you have a friend here, even if she could never be an ally.

Oliver and Rook were entirely absent as you and Vivian wandered about. You made sure not to open any firmly shut doors this time.

After a few hours, the moment you dreaded arrived. Vivian poked her head out the velvet curtains that were covering the nearest window and grinned at you.

“Alright, Oliver said to send you down right about now. It’s right down that hallway.

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared down the dark hallway. Vivian didn’t seem to quite understand the magnitude of your anxiety, excitedly shooing you down towards the door.

You entered a room that looked almost exactly like what you’d expect from a dining room in a house this big. The table was massive, spanning the humungous room.

Something you hadn’t expected to see was the number of chairs.

The table was completely devoid of them except for one Rook was sitting at right at the head of the table and another right next to him.

You sat beside him, having no other choice in the matter.

“This massive house and you can’t afford more chairs?”

“They were removed. It’s hard to talk all the way across the room.”

You resented the fact that he refused to even give you the option.

The chairs that remained looked heavy and you couldn’t help but imagine Oliver and Rook desperately trying to push them out of the room in order to trap you next to him. Despite the less than optimal outcome, you had to fight back a smile at the mental image.

“Did you sleep alright?” he asked, cutting through your daydreams of him.

“Fine,” you responded bluntly.

“Are you sure? Your bed was still made.”

You were suddenly very glad your knife and notebook were stashed in your pocket. “Why were you in my room? How did you even get in, I left the window wide open.”

“Ah, yes.” He looked embarrassed and you got the sense that he’d be blushing if he had the blood for it instead of being pale and cold. “Well, we don’t exactly have staff here, they’re too scared of me to come. Everyone mostly takes care of their own tidying but I look after the rooms of newcomers. And I just covered up until I could get the drapes closed, it’s not the easiest way to move but I only have to travel the length of a room.”

Your accusation suddenly felt cruel. There was something so earnest about his words, something sheepish at the fact that he was picking up after you. “Oh. Okay. Well, the bed was just so lovely and made so well, it felt rude to mess it up.”

He smiled. “Well, I’m glad you appreciate my bed-making skills but I promise I don’t mind if you sleep under the covers. That is what they’re made for.”

The conversation put you more at ease, feeling less like you’d been brought here to be interrogated and more like this was a ploy from Rook to make you like him. It almost felt worse this way, the way he seemed to be trying to hide his eagerness to make you feel welcomed.

You looked down at the plate of food in front of you, finally convinced it was probably safe to eat, and noticed that it was the only one on the table. The spot in front of Rook was entirely empty.

“You’re not going to eat?” you asked as you took a bite of the food. It made you a little angry how good it was and for some undiscernible reason, you hoped Oliver had made it. Like that would make it alright that you’d enjoyed it.

He shook his head. “Can’t. Solid food are beyond me I’m afraid.”

“Why would you invite me to dinner then,” you asked, baffled by the decision.

“It seemed like a good time to talk. Besides, it’s a good way to make sure you eat. Viv is very concerned about you, says you’re not handling all this very well.”

She might’ve been right to be. With everything going on, eating had been the last thing on your mind. “I’m just nervous,” you justified weakly.

“So you keep saying.”

He watched you eat, studying you as you made your way through the dish. Finally, you grew tired of his observation and set down the fork.

“I can’t help but wonder, am I playing right?”

“Playing? This isn’t a game.”

“Yes, it is.” you insisted. “All of this has been, despite the fact that you declined to inform me of it. I think you like when it's a game. So am I playing correctly or have I already lost?”

“You barely know me and yet you pretend to know so much.”

“Am I wrong?”

“About this? No. Might be a first since you entered this place but you are not wrong.”

You scoffed. “What do you want from me?”

“You came here. You act as if I forced you into my home.”

“And you let me in. But you’re not making me give you anything so what do you want, why am I here? Why should I want to win?”

“I want you to trust me. That’s where this has to start.”

“And where does it end?”

“That depends on you. If you keep behaving like this it might end with you never trusting me.”

You worried when that end might be. “So I am losing. Good to know, And of course I don’t trust you, I don’t know anything about you.”

“Alright then,” he said as he leaned back in his chair, the corner of his mouth quirking up before he could manage to suppress his smile. “Go on.”

“With what?”

“Getting to know me.”

This was your opportunity, he’d just all but given you permission to ask all the questions you wanted. Not wanting to let the chance pass you by, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “So you drink blood.”

He smiled, baring his fangs at you as he did. “See, you know some things about me.”

“Are you going to drink from me?” you pressed on, refusing to let him steer you off track.

“If you want me to.”

“And if I don’t? Isn’t that what you brought us here for?”

He scoffed. “I’m building a community here, not a buffet.”

You just continued on with your questions. “Do you kill people?”

“Not unless it’s self-defense, same as most people I’d assume.” He chuckled as he answered but you didn’t find it funny.

“Let me rephrase then. Have you killed people?”

“Noone who didn’t try and kill me first.” That answer he didn’t chuckle through.

He looked you right in the eyes as he stated it. It felt like a promise. You just weren’t certain if it was a promise not to hurt you or a promise of what would happen if you tried to hurt him.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” you said. You didn’t have to do much acting to appear nervous around him but you hoped it might help. Maybe if he knew you were afraid of him he’d give you space.

“You should. Vampires can’t lie.”

You perked up at that. “Is that true?” you asked incredulously.

He just raised his eyebrows and gave you a shit-eating grin.

You had half a mind to throw something at him.

He didn’t apologize for his stupid little joke, which was well enough because you wouldn’t have forgiven him. Instead, his eyes darted down to your half-finished dinner.

“You going to finish that?”

You crossed your arms. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Don’t be like that, we were having fun! You were playing the game. Well, if you’re really done, come on,” he said, offering you his hand. “I’ll show you the gardens. You’ll like them. Everyone does.”

There were few decisions you could’ve made that felt as deeply ill-advised as going on a walk with him, alone, as the sun had already set.

You told yourself it was because there wasn’t an easy way out but honestly, you weren’t so sure, and you took his hand.

He led you outside, the grip on your hand less firm than it had been last time.

“Where are the flowers,” you asked when confronted with walls of bushes as the two of you stepped outside.

“There aren’t flowers. It’s a hedge maze.”

You snorted out a laugh. “Why do you have a hedge maze?”

“Every self-respecting mansion has a hedge maze.”

“That’s absurd,” you insisted.

“Well, maybe I’m absurd. Either way, absurd or not, everyone loves the hedge maze. Want to give it a try.”

The idea of being lost and alone, or worse, lost and with Rook, wasn’t exactly appealing to you. “Not really.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I have more questions for you,” you said, figuring you should at least take advantage of this alone time that you’d foolishly agreed to. “I mean, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead. I hope they’re more fun than your last ones.”

“Can you actually turn into a bat?”

“Yes, I can.”

“Can I see?”

“No. Maybe someday but that’s something I only do with people I trust and as someone very cross with me once said, I can’t trust you, I don’t know anything about you.”

“Okay. Another question then. What’s with all the black and white?”

“Don’t you like it? It feels fitting to me. The light and the dark, the wars that are waged, reflected on everything here.”

Your nose scrunched up as he talked, waxing poetic about two colors that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to care about.

As he went on, you began to put some of the pieces together as he spoke. “Your name is Rook too. That wasn’t your given name I assume.”

“My favorite chess piece. Honest, direct, noble.”

“Okay,” you said, cutting him off before he could start rambling again. “Be that as it may, you shouldn’t impose your weird chess thing on us. Some of us like colors.”

“My weird chess thing?” His voice cracked as he questioned you, snorting out a laugh at your comment. “You are so rude, where were you raised?”

You clutched your chest in mock pain. “Sorry, not all of us were raised in a mansion Rook.”

“I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t realize most people went around insulting one another so freely.”

“I think you’d be surprised. If you went out in the world wearing some of those outfits you gave me I think you’d hear some choice words thrown your way.”

The thought inspired yet another question from you. “When you talked about needing a special outfit to close the window, is it like, a big sun hat? A black and white one of course.”

“More like a sheet ghost.”

You giggled and he laughed along with you, looking down at you fondly and with some undeniable smugness present on his face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, quickly snuffing out your laughter.

“You’re not afraid. It’s the first time since you got here that you weren’t terrified of me.”

You hadn’t even noticed that the bubbling fear that lived in your chest had faded out as the two of you had spoken, “How could you possibly tell?”

“I can smell it. All those chemicals in your blood.”

“Stop smelling my blood,” you practically shouted, smacking at him.

He let out an almost boyish laugh as he dodged your attack. “I can’t help it, that’s like asking you to stop smelling the flowers.”

“There are no flowers,” you pointed out.

“Well, in theory. I can’t just turn it off. Trust me, if I could I would.”

After a moment of thought he added, “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“Not a clue.”

“It means I won. This battle, at least.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

A tempest of competing emotions fought in your chest. You were a fool, you were giving in to him. The hunters didn’t want you here for this exact reason, he must be hypnotizing you or something.

That felt more believable than you having a pleasant conversation with him.

With his victims? Maybe. They were people with souls, albeit misguided people. But not with him.

You felt like you were losing control. Of all the things you’d imagined when you got here, this was the furthest thing from your mind and yet you couldn’t deny it, especially after he’d as much as said it.

You’d stopped being afraid of him, for however brief a moment.

#terato #teratophillia #vampire x vampire hunter #vampire x reader #vampire x human #monster bf #monster boyfriend #monster x human #monster x reader

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uvobreakmylegs · 2 months

Text

Chosen

basically the Amateur Night section from the movie V/H/S but with more wlw

vampire! Machi x female! reader

💕Happy Valentine's Day💕

Warnings: creepy behavior, allusions to noncon/dubcon, implied death, implied violence, manipulation, mind control

Word count: 5.3k

You wanted to talk to her.

She sat next to you at the table, and you couldn't help the way your eyes would continuously go over to her, taking in different things about her appearance every time you would steal a glance. Her pink hair that was kept up in a ponytail was one of the first things you noted, followed by the pretty shade of blue of her eyes and the pale shade of her lipstick. The dark purple dress she was wearing suited her, though you had to wonder if the high collar of the garment made things uncomfortable given the rather humid air in the bar. Although she seemed comfortable enough, so it must not have been an issue for her.

You really wanted to talk to her.

Unfortunately, the current situation you found yourself in wasn't allowing that to happen. Not very easily.

A hand brushed against your shoulder, and your attention was brought back to the guy who was sitting way closer than you liked, crowding you in so you had no easy way out.

“You sure you don't want a drink?” he asked over the music in the bar.

“I've got a drink,” you answered, smiling as you lifted up the glass that you were careful not to let out of your sight.

“Then how about shots?”

“Nah, no thanks.”

“Aw, don't be boring.”

“I'm good,” you cheerfully reiterated, adding “maybe one of your friends will do it.”

“But I want you to do it.”

You laughed, trying your best to keep your annoyance hidden as he continued to push for you to drink more.

You didn't like this guy at all.

You wouldn't be sitting with him were it not for the fact that he and one of his friends had managed to effectively trap you where you were sitting: the two men came up on either side of the table where you were sitting and asked if the other seats were taken in the same moment that they sat down next to you. Since you had foolishly picked an area where the seats were right up against the wall, you couldn't get out without them moving out of the way.

And it was very clear that the guy sitting next to you didn't intend on leaving you alone.

Despite being in a crowded bar, you didn't feel safe trying to bring attention to your predicament. The conflict-averse part of you felt it was better to try and get out of this without causing a scene, so you smiled and pretended to entertain him while you waited for your opportunity to get away.

You thought you found your opportunity when the one on the other side of you got up to get himself a drink, and you kept the guy next to you distracted as you subtly collected your purse into your lap, ready to make a quick exit.

That was when she showed up.

The duo of men were actually a trio, and their third came sauntering up to the table with her, telling her to take the seat next to you. He tried to place his hand on her lower back but stopped when she gave him a sharp glare that made him back off, holding up his hands in mock surrender while she slid in next to you.

You could've asked her to move – tell that to her and this new guy before they settled in. And surely she would have no issue complying even if it would annoy the two men.

But after taking one look at her, you decided not to.

Instead, you said nothing as she sat down. And after the two of you made eye contact, you smiled and introduced yourself.

She nodded in response before giving you her name – Machi.

You couldn't explain it at all, why you decided to stay. There was something else, something about her that drew you in. What it was exactly you couldn't quite pinpoint; at best all you could say was that she had a certain aura about her that mystified you that part of you wanted to describe as being otherworldly, and that was enough to have you wishing that you could know more.

But so far the only words that the two of you had managed to exchange were your initial greetings, as the two guys that were now blocking both of you in were eager to have you drink your fill while they chatted you up. It looked pretty obvious to you where they were hoping this would go: you and Machi going home with them while being too inebriated to offer much in terms of resistance. That was the sense you got from the way the looked at you two and how the guy next to you – did he say his name was Jeremy? – kept finding reasons to put his hands on you. You felt your skin burning every time he touched you, but you fought the urge to push him away.

That was what you got for going out to a bar alone.

But maybe you and Machi could get out of this together.

You glanced over to her again while Jeremy was talking about something, and you found that she appeared just as disinterested in the man sitting next to her – his name might have been Glen – as she had been when he first herded her over here. Her eyes were still on the drink that he had placed in front of her earlier – that she had yet to even touch – and she wasn't giving him much of a reaction to anything he said. Her responses were generally short.

That didn't seem to dissuade him much, and you glanced over a short while later just in time to see him reaching for her hand.

She turned her head away from you to face him, and you could only assume that she was glaring at him again as he backed off immediately, once more holding his hands up in mock surrender.

Though you couldn't help but notice that the smile that accompanied that gesture seemed a lot more forced now.

That could be bad.

You needed to bring your attention back to Jeremy as you heard him speaking to you again.

“What do you think you'll be doing once you're done here?” he asked you.

“I'm not sure,” you answered.

He grinned as he leaned in closer, saying “we rented a room not far from here. You should come with us; we'll have more drinks.”

Oh fuck no

“I don't know,” you said, “I'm not sure how much more drinking I want to do tonight.”

“You're being boring again.”

“They're both being boring,” Glen chimed in, pointing to Machi's drink as he added “she hasn't touched what I got her at all.”

“I don't like it,” Machi told him.

“Why didn't you tell me earlier?”

“You didn't ask.”

Sensing that his friend was losing his patience, Jeremy cut in.

“You should drink it anyway. It's polite,” he told her.

“See? You're outvoted two to one. You should take a sip,” Glen said.

"No."

At that point, you felt compelled to step in as well.

“I agree with Machi. She doesn't need to drink it if she doesn't want to,” you said.

“Oh, come on! You're not supposed to team up against us,” Jeremy told you in a teasing tone.

“Then you shouldn't be giving us a reason to team up in the first place,” you said. Your tone had been just as light, and the slightly awkward moment ended when the third guy of their friend group (who you had almost managed to completely forget about) came back and Glen handed him Machi's untouched drink. He seemed a bit confused for a second before eventually wandering off with it.

Jeremy had never lost his good spirits, but you couldn't help but notice the way Glen glared at you, and you immediately didn't feel good. You didn't like the thought of staying around him any longer than you needed to.

Machi was quiet again, though the two of you managed to make eye contact again, at which you smiled at her.

She gave you a brief, small nod, seemingly as a way to quietly thank you.

It continued like that, Jeremy becoming subtly but increasingly insistent on you drinking more with him. All you could do was politely laugh it off. Meanwhile there was a one-sided conversation going on between Machi and Glen, who was doing all of the talking while she didn't even make an attempt to pretend to be interested in what he was saying. And then the third guy returned to the table for a brief moment without the drink he'd been handed before, but quickly went back out onto the floor, wandering towards another woman who seemed to be on her own.

You had no clue how long things stayed like this, though the moment felt never-ending.

Jeremy leaned in towards you suddenly, and the way he encroached on your space forced you to back away. Unfortunately, you ended up scooting right up against Machi.

“Ah- sorry,” you said to her.

She shrugged, saying “it's alright.”

Despite the minimal interaction between you two, Glen seemed to get annoyed by it, telling her “you've been talking to her more than you've been talking to me. What's up with that?”

“You haven't been saying anything all that interesting,” Machi told him.

“So that's why you're ignoring me?”

She shrugged.

“Why are you even here if all you're going to do is act like a bitch?” he asked.

“Weren't you the one who dragged me over here?” she asked in response.

He didn't say anything in response to that, but you could tell now that he was getting angry. Even Jeremy seemed worried about where the interaction was going to go, staying quiet while trying to silently tell his friend to stop whatever he was thinking.

You chose then to interject once more, clapping your hands to get everyone's attention.

“Hey! I changed my mind,” you said aloud, turning to Jeremy as you said “I'll do shots as long as everyone else does. Why don't you and your friend go get some for us?”

“…. Uh, yeah, okay.”

Jeremy stood and signaled for Glen to go with him. And after a few seconds, he reluctantly left his seat, walking away with his friend towards the crowded bar to collect the drinks. With them at the bar and the third guy whose name you still didn't know at the other side of the room talking to the same woman you saw him approaching earlier, it was just you and Machi now.

You turned to her as you said “I think he's getting really mad at you.”

She looked over to you before simply replying with a “I noticed.”

“Aren't you worried? What if he tries to do something?” you asked.

“He can try but it won't make much difference.”

“And besides,” she added, “he won't dare to do anything while we're here. Not unless he wants everyone in here to come down on him.”

“But you won't have that safety if he gets you alone,” you pointed out.

“I know.”

If she knew that, then why wasn't she leaving?

Before you were able to say anything along those lines, Machi beat you to it as she said “you should probably head off before they come back.”

Looking back to where the men were standing, she was right that now was a good time to escape. There appeared to be some sort of hold-up at the bar as there were a lot of people clustered around there now; no doubt the poor bartenders were desperately trying to get through all the drink orders quickly to avoid any potential verbal abuse from the patrons who would likely get angry if their order took too long. Jeremy and Glen were still in the same place, both men straining their necks to look over the people in front of them. And the third guy was still talking to that woman, though she was looking increasingly uncomfortable as he leaned in closer to her.

If you wanted to leave without incident, now was your chance.

“Like you said, things could get bad if we end up alone,” Machi added, “I doubt you want to get caught up in that.”

…. She was telling you to leave.

But she'd be staying?

After a moment, you shook your head.

“I don't want to leave yet,” you said.

Machi's gaze narrowed as she looked at you.

“There's no way you're actually interested in either of them,” she said.

“How can you tell?”

“Because I've been feeling the way you cringe every time that one touches you. Unless you like torturing yourself, you have no reason to stay here,” Machi said.

“I have a reason,” you replied.

“And what's that?”

“I don't want to leave you alone with them.”

Machi only raised an eyebrow at you.

You continued, saying “I'm really worried about you now. I don't get why you aren't leaving yourself, but after seeing the way that guy looked at you, I don't feel good at the thought of leaving you alone with him.”

“So you're staying because you're worried about me,” she stated.

You nodded.

She didn't look impressed.

“That's nice of you, I guess, but you should really just leave. Despite how it might look, I can handle those idiots. I don't need someone to look after me,” she told you.

The tone in her voice indicated that she was annoyed with you.

Despite that, you decided to persist, cutting in before she spoke again.

“I'm sorry,” you said, “I'm not trying to annoy you, and I'm definitely not trying to belittle you or anything. I am really worried about what those guys might try to do to you, but that isn't the only reason why I'm staying.”

Machi's expression remained flat as she asked “what's the other reason?”

You ran your fingernail along the side of your glass, leaving marks in the condensation. It was nerve-wracking to try and build up the courage to admit that you were interested in her. After all, she didn't seem impressed with anyone around her; why would she ever be interested in you?

But you might as well shoot your shot, right?

“You seem really interesting and I'd like to get to know you,” you answered.

“Get to know me?” she asked.

“Like a one-on-one over a cup of coffee sometime. Or something else if that's what you'd prefer. Whatever would suit you best.”

You felt the heat building up in your cheeks as you said that and you couldn't make eye contact with her. Just how embarrassed did you look right now?

“….. Oh.”

From the way she said that, it seemed like she understood what you meant, and when you glanced over, you found that she looked a bit surprised at your confession. Machi then looked back to the empty surface of the table in front of her, and you followed suit by turning your gaze to the glass in your hands.

She wasn't upset, was she?

The two of you remained quiet for a few moments within the noisy atmosphere of the bar. The men weren't back yet. Their third was still desperately talking to that poor woman, but the ones who seemed most interested in you and Machi were nowhere to be seen. Though it felt like it was only a matter of time before they came back and you two would be trapped by them again.

In a perfect world, you and Machi would ditch those three and go somewhere else.

It seemed like that might be what ended up happening, as Machi was staying quiet. While she didn't seem as irritated as she had earlier, her reaction didn't necessarily point to anything positive for you.

There wasn't much to be done if she wasn't interested. If that was the case, the best thing you could do was make yourself scarce like she'd been telling you to do.

“I can leave you alone, though,” you said, “I understand if that's what you want.”

You realized after you spoke that your voice had been a bit too quiet in the loud space of the bar and you would likely need to repeat yourself if you wanted to be heard.

But somehow she did hear you as she answered “I don't know now.”

You blinked.

“You don't know?” you asked, confused.

“I don't know if I want you to leave me alone or not.”

“Oh.”

That was a good sign, right? Ah, crap. You'd never felt so flustered around someone else before this.

“I guess it's a bit surprising you'd say that when I've got that one guy hovering around me,” she said.

“I probably wouldn't have if it wasn't for the fact that you really hate him,” you answered.

“I don't hate him; he's not worth hating,” she replied.

“But you don't like him.”

“No.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you said “I really don't understand why you're hanging around these guys. Why?”

She dodged the question, answering with “we're discussing you, remember?”

“You're not even trying to hide the fact that you're avoiding my question,” you said.

“Nope.”

Machi's tapped her fingers on the table as she asked “still want to get to know me?”

“Yeah,” you answered without hesitation.

“You're weird,” she said.

You shrugged.

“I'll take weird. Being weird isn't always that bad,” you said.

“There are things that are worse than being weird,” she agreed, before adding “but I'm not sure why you're so interested in me.”

Probably not a good idea to word-vomit everything you'd been thinking about her. Probably better to say something that made at least a little bit of sense.

“I feel like we might work really well together,” you said.

She hummed.

“Based on what?” Machi asked.

“A hunch.”

It wasn't a great reason, but you couldn't think of anything other than that.

But you noticed the way Machi blinked after you said that.

And then, after a moment, she surprised you when she smiled to herself.

“Did I say something funny?” you asked.

“A little bit."

"Funny in a good way or a bad way?"

"A good way,” Machi answered.

She leaned her head against her hand as she said “I think I'd like to learn more about you, too.”

You felt your heart flutter as she said that and you smiled back at her.

If only that moment wasn't ruined by Glen and Jeremy returning to the table, carrying two small glasses each that were placed down in front of you while they apologized for the hold up. One of those glasses was slid across the surface of the table in front of you, and Jeremy told you to drink up.

Crap. You'd managed to forget how the excuse you'd used to get them away from you. After explicitly asking for drinks, there'd be a bad reaction if you refused them. You glanced over to Machi and found that the pleasant look on her face from earlier was gone, her lips once more set in a small frown. Yet she still picked up the glass that had been given to her. When she noticed you looking at her, she gave you a small nod. So she felt you should drink?

You felt better about it, then. You weren't about to trust Jeremy or his friends, but you could trust Machi.

The alcohol burned as it went down your throat, and the two men laughed at you when you made a face after swallowing it. Some water would've been nice to wash the taste out.

Machi's hand lightly touched your shoulder as she asked if you were alright, and you nodded, making a comment about how you didn't care much for the taste.

Glen seemed to be in a better mood now, which made you feel a bit better. Though with the return of the two men, you were now in the same predicament you'd been in before: unable to leave without causing some sort of issue with them, which by now you definitely didn't want to do. While it was nice to know that Machi was also a little interested in you, you didn't know how the two of you could ditch them. Especially with Machi being weird about her motives. You couldn't even ask about that now with the two of them crowding around you.

Hopefully you could figure something out.

The return to the situation you'd been stuck in for the past half-hour didn't last very long. At the other end of the bar, you heard a woman scream, and like everyone else in the room, your head turned to see the cause of the cry just in time to see a woman slapping that unnamed third guy across the face while yelling some choice words at him.

The two men with you reacted immediately. Glen got up to head to their third's rescue while Jeremy stood and hurriedly told the two of you “we should leave before they kick us out.”

“But we haven't done anything,” you said.

“Yeah, but you're with us,” he answered.

You were ready to argue with him on that point; every part of you was ready to throw him under the bus if just so you could finally get away from them, but Machi stopped you before you could say anything, tapping your shoulder to get your attention.

Looking you in the eye, she said “let's go with him.”

Within an instant all thoughts of arguing with Jeremy went out the window, and you blankly nodded with her suggestion.

There were more raised voices as you got up, and it sounded as though several people were becoming angry and possibly aggressive – you couldn't say for sure, however. You were only focused on the feeling of Machi's hand in yours as the both of you followed the guy out of the bar.

The skin of her palm and fingers felt slightly calloused, you idly thought.

When you snapped back to reality, you and Machi were on the sidewalk standing next to a car. Looking around revealed that Jeremy was heading back to the bar, where it sounded a lot louder now. Had things escalated inside?

All the more reason to leave now.

Turning back towards Machi, whose hand was still in yours, you asked “neither of us like those guys, right?”

She nodded.

“Then why don't we run really fast and get away before they get here?”

“I don't think you can run right now,” she said.

“Then we can walk really fast,” you replied.

Machi smiled a little, but shook her head.

You frowned.

“Did you mean it when you said that you wanted to learn about me?” you asked.

“Yeah, I did,” Machi said.

“Then why-”

“I need to do something first,” she said, “but after I'm done with them, we can ditch them for good.”

You didn't get a chance to ask what she needed them for, because her hand went to cup your cheek and her eyes looked into yours as she spoke again. For some reason, you felt as though you were taking in the information, yet you couldn't hear it. The words were connecting with some part of your subconscious as opposed to your mind; all your brain could focus on was the touch of her skin on yours, the pretty shade of blue of her eyes and the color of her lipstick.

Things that didn't involve Machi were hard to make out now. Your vision was fuzzy and it felt like you had cotton stuffed into your ears, the voices of other people that were also leaving the bar being hard to make out.

But every time Machi spoke, you could hear her clearly. Like when you were ushered into a car by the three men – when did they come back? – and you vaguely felt a hand on your back that shoved you across the seat, you heard her voice loud and clear as she firmly said “don't hit her.”

There was a car ride. Where the men were situated in the car you had no idea. But Machi sat next to you in the back seat, between you and one of the men. Sitting up began to feel strenuous, and you ended up with your cheek resting on her shoulder.

Her hand was still on your arm, reassuring you with soft touches, and you felt better.

By the time the car trip ended, you were having difficulty standing, and Machi needed to help you up the stairs of what appeared to be the upper level of a cheap motel. With the area being relatively quiet, you could hear now that the men were laughing, though their conversations were harder to make out.

The scenery changed again, and now you were inside a poorly lit motel room equipped with two beds that, under normal circumstances, you wouldn't want to even touch. But you didn't protest when Machi led you to one of them and laid you down on top of it, the scratchy bed cover not enough to keep you from the sleep that was now forcing you to close your eyes.

One of the men took issue with that, and you had enough awareness to know when he slapped you across the face. Yet that didn't manage to rouse you.

It felt like whoever had slapped you was about to do it again only to be abruptly stopped.

And then you heard her speak once more before blacking out completely.

“I said don't hit her.”

You didn't recognize the bedroom you woke up in.

After opening your eyes and blearily looking about the room for a few moments, that realization had you sitting upright, looking over yourself while trying to recall your last memory.

Your clothes were still on, so that was a good sign. But when it came to remembering everything that had happened, it became a little more spotty.

You'd been out at a bar. By yourself, which was a dumb move on your part since you attracted a trio of pests. Then you met Machi. You two managed to talk and it seemed like she might like you at least a little. And then you both were outside of the bar at some point.

After that….. Nothing.

You had no memory of what had happened after, where you'd gone from there or how you ended up in a darkened bedroom that seemed slightly cluttered. It was clearly morning, though, if the bits of light coming through the small spaces of the blinds were to be believed.

Where was Machi?

You only needed to look to the side of the bed that you hadn't checked to learn the answer to that. She lay next to you, facing away so all you really saw was messy pink hair sticking out from beneath the covers. But you must have made enough noise when you woke up because she turned towards you moments later, sitting up as well as she said “hey.”

“Hey,” you answered.

“Are you feeling alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think,” you said.

“I've got painkillers if you need any,” Machi said.

You didn't answer at first, distracted by the sight of her with her hair down, though you eventually remembered to reply as you said “I'm okay, but thanks.”

You sounded a bit distant, and she seemed to pick up on that.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“Ah, I guess I'm just a little weirded out that I don't remember much of what happened last night,” you admitted.

“Maybe you drank too much.”

You didn't feel like that was the case, but you couldn't think of anything else. Or maybe it had something to do with the alcohol those guys had gotten for you.

Oh, right. Those three.

“What happened to those guys?” you asked her.

“They were at that motel last I saw,” Machi answered.

“But we're not at the motel.”

“No, this is my place.”

“But how did we end up here?” you asked.

“They were barely in a better state than you,” she said, “I slipped out with you once I saw a good opportunity.”

“Oh. Okay.”

They must have been more shitfaced than you realized. Didn't you get into a car with one of them driving? That was a bit more scary to think about, what might have happened if they were really that inebriated.

Luckily you were here now.

Then you added “thanks for taking me with you. I hope it wasn't too much trouble to drag me around with you.”

“It wasn't. But if you feel bad, you can make it up to me by having that one-on-one conversation you want over breakfast,” she said.

“Sounds good to me.”

With that, both of you were prompted to leave the bed, and as Machi made her way towards the bedroom door, instinct had you pulling the covers back over once you were standing, wanting to have the bed looking somewhat presentable at the very least.

Didn't you end up on a different bed at first last night?

You paused as bits and pieces came back to mind. An uncomfortable bed with an equally uncomfortable sheets. Raised voices. A scuffle.

Blood.

… When did that happen?

Machi called out to you, and you turned to her.

“Did you get hurt last night?” you asked.

“No.”

Her tone was nonchalant.

You questioned her again as you asked “did I get hurt?”

“No.”

“…. That's weird.”

“What is?”

“I feel like I remember seeing a lot of blood at one point,” you said.

Spattered across the floor and dripping down the walls, almost everything in sight coated in red. Even you – you could feel it sticking to the exposed parts of your skin, on your face, and you accidentally got a taste when you ran your tongue over your lips. It didn't feel good, and the smell in the air was overwhelming, like the particles were clogging up your nose. You made a move to get up from the bed you were laying on, wanting to leave.

Someone set their sights on you as soon as you did that.

“You didn't see any blood last night; you probably just had a nightmare,” Machi told you.

Ah. That made sense. After all, you'd looked over yourself when you woke up, and you would've noticed if there had been any blood on you. But it was just a nightmare, so it was better not to dwell on it.

That was such a weird thing to dream about, though.

You were walking towards her when another thought came to mind, that question that she'd avoided answering.

“Hey, you never told me what it was you wanted from those three. Why did you need to go with them?” you asked.

Machi waited until you had reached her, and this time she held out her hand to cup your cheek, her blue eyes staring directly into yours.

Blue eyes stared down at you from where you lay on the bed, a hand resting lightly on your chest as she pushed you back down. There was a groaning coming from behind her on the second bed, and if you were able to tear your gaze away from her, you might have seen the figures that were sprawled across it.

But you were too focused on everything about her: her hand traveling up to stroke your hair, the pretty shade of blue of her eyes and the deep red color that now covered her lips and dripped down from her mouth.

“It isn't important, so don't ask about it again,” Machi told you.

Within a moment, all of those thoughts were locked away into the deepest recesses of your mind, willed to never surface for as long as possible. You smiled at her as you cheerfully told her “okay!”

There was warmth in your heart when you saw that soft smile of hers once more.

#yandere hxh #yandere x reader #machi x reader #yandere machi #yandere hunter x hunter #reader insert #yandere #hxh x reader #hxh machi #vampire au

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asyor · 6 months

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vampire hunter for dinner ♡

#my art #sketch #orv vampire au #LETS PRETEND ITS STILL OCTOBER 31ST #shame on me for not drawing them in time aough forgive me #tw blood #yoohankim #vampire!kdj #vampire!hsy #vampire hunter!yjh #orv fanart #orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #kim dokja #yoo joonghyuk #han sooyoung #kdj x yjh x hsy

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mikodrawnnarratives · 6 months

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TW (IMPLIED) CHARACTER DEATH

TW BLOOD

(not graphic blood but I'll still tag it just in case)

@naffeclipse

Might want to turn up your brightness for this one fellas

This is Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Extra

(might end up being three parts actually lol)

(my script is like 3-4 pages long so....)

Long post under the cut

I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you.

Take me back to the night we met.

I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Haunted by the ghost of you

Oh, take me back to the night we met

- The night we met by Lord Hurdon

This comic stems from my need for them to have a satisfying conclusion OKAY

I mean it's bittersweet but at least they make up (to a degree)

Explanation below (kind of spoiling next part) (kindof almost not really idk):

After being dangerously injured by a cryptid, Vanessa managed to contact the one person she wished she could have said goodbye to the most.

I'll explain more about why Vanessa is the way she is in the next part but without spoiling, Vanessa has grown a little since the last time she saw y/n. That, in combination with the fact she's bleeding out and taking on the mentality "fuck it why not", has led her to this decision.

This comic kinda goes off of the idea she gets an inkling of doubt in her mind about whether y/n is still "alive".

The next part will go into it more but that doubt mixed with her resolve leads her to at least try.

She tries to call y/n. They don't answer. She sends a text and no longer has the strength to hold on to her phone.

I don't think she'll be completely resolved to Vampires having actual consciousness but in her last moments she's also just wishing for her friend back. Her human friend. The one who has been dead all this time. Vanessa has a history with seeing ghosts so

It's worth a try

I'll let you decide which phone of y/n's she tried to contact.

Assuming y/n unblocked her on their previous phone at some point

So yeah, Vanessa in this comic is going back and forth on whether this is y/n or not. She's bleeding out, so does it really matter?

It's almost selfish how much she wishes to be free of the ache in her chest. The fact in the end, she couldn't free her friend.

You'll see more of this in the next part. I don't want to spoil it too much.

She doesn't wish to carry this burden of failing her friend. She reaches for a conclusion. She wants this to end well. She wants her friend to be okay. She wants to believe everything has worked out. She wants everyone she cares about to be okay without her.

She'll throw out her wish to the world. And hopefully, it'll come true.

She'll throw out her wish to you.

It is you.

Right?

I may have spoiled the next part a little bit oopsies

I just want to explain why Vanessa's different y'know

And y/n has their own conflicting emotions.

Even when things are a semblance of normal, it can't be. They are a vampire now. It tears them up inside.

But. Vanessa lets them touch her.

They've been afraid to do that. For the entirety of this reunion cut short.

She lets them touch her.

And again, Vanessa wouldn't be this way if... it weren't for a few somebodies.

But that's enough spoiling the next part.

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yandere-writer-momo · 7 months

Text

Yandere Short Stories: The Sponser

Yandere Afab Vampire x Afab Vampire Hunter Reader

For my dear friend @corvlth

Eclectic. Odd. Bizarre. Out of the box. Those were all ways one would describe Duchess Evaline Bohéme. She was known to be an eccentric artist who’d much rather spend her time painting than socializing with other nobles.

There was no point socializing with humans in her mind. It didn’t matter how many centuries went by or how often she changed her name, human nobles remained the same. Greedy and selfish.

Which made issues arise. She didn’t want to marry nor did she want to date. Evaline lost herself in her oil paintings, dedicating every fiber in her being to the vibrant colors and the soft contours of a figment of her imagination.

But that was until she met her. (Your name), the vampire hunter. A gruff and tenacious woman who took the social world by storm by being out of the norm. A woman doing a man’s job? It was unheard of… and it fascinated the duchess.

People underestimated the huntress because of her gender but Evaline didn’t. She could feel it from her place in the shadows that the huntress was far more capable than the hunters before her. So how could Evaline obtain her?

Evaline would sell out her brethren. If (your name) hunted all the other vampires, then (your name) would trust her. Maybe she’d open her heart to Evaline? The thought made the Duchess giddy.

Evaline watched (your name) from her perch of her bedroom window. Her violet eyes memorizing every part of the scarred huntress’s face. In Evaline’s eyes, she was the most magnificent creature she’s ever seen.

Evaline swore if she had a heartbeat, it would have stopped when they locked eyes. That her cheeks would blush a cherry red under the huntress’s strong gaze. She was enamored.

(Your name) took the small bag of gold from the butler. The huntress tipped the brim of her hat down as a sign of respect.

Evaline sunk to her knees, the wood splintered under her hands from the force she fell with when (your name) climbed on top of her horse and rode off.

Evaline wanted her… and Evaline would have her. Whether in this life or the next.

#female reader #yandere fic #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere monster x reader #yandere monster #yandere lesbian #yandere wlw #yandere vampire #yandere vampire x reader #vampire #vampire hunter #lesbian #lesbian oc #sapphic #sapphism #yandere oc #yandere original character #yandere stories

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nezuscribe · 2 months

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would you mind sparing us some more vampire hunter!gojo thoughts 🫣🤲

yes!!

i like the idea of them meeting more by chance than anything else. like you were probably out by the lakes near your estate when you bump into gojo one night, terrified out of your mind because he’s a hunter!! he kills vampires for a living!

but gojo doesn’t kill you, he doesn’t hurt you. he almost seems a bit taken aback, not really expecting to see you there before you quickly run away.

and you keep running into him, (more so because he’s loitering around hoping he’d see you again), and the two of you begin to become a bit more friendlier towards each other.

i think that gojo was most likely there in the first place to kill somebody from your family, maybe even you, but he couldn’t know, he just cares too much about you.

and i really do think he wants you to bite him, he wants you to mark up his neck. he’s too shy to ask it, but sometimes when you’re with him, you see the way his eyes linger on your fangs, the pink that’s dusts his cheeks.

#nezu speaks #anon reply #gojo x reader #vampire hunter!gojo

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klausysworld · 6 months

Text

Love is never simple PART 2!!! (Part 1 here)

(I will be changing some things about the original plot, I hope that nobody minds)

After returning home Klaus ordered two of his hybrids to follow and report on Y/n. If she was any good at vampire hunting then he needed to keep a good eye on her. He didn't want her to think she had any kind of upper hand over him.

It was clear to say that he underestimated her.

The second his hybrids set their eyes on her she could sense it. It clicked in her mind immediately that Klaus knew. She had two ways to play: pretend she didn't know or send him a message. She didn't think about it for too long if she were honest, she desperately wanted to behead a hybrid.

It was easy to take them out, they weren't expecting her to be behind them when they followed her round the corner. She called Tyler and yelled t him to get his sorry ass to the street she was on. She them threatened to leave him in a similar state to his fellow mongrels if he didn't do exactly as she said.

That evening, when klaus came home he found both hybrids sat on his bed. Blood covered his bedding, drenching the mattress and staining everything. The hybrids held the others heads in a way that made it seem like it was an offering and it was so psychotically disturbing that Klaus found himself smiling. A laugh left his lips and he pressed his hand to his mouth to quieten himself, unaware that Tyler was messaging Y/n and letting her know of Klaus's reaction.

Klaus changed rooms, not wanting his floors to be stained. The hybrids were burned and he let the others mourn them for a day before getting back to work. He then began to wonder how he should go about Y/n. Clearly she didn't want to be on his side, however he also remembered how she had behaved on the night of homecoming. She had started off being revolted but for a good few minutes she completely forgot what he was. Deep down she was still a just a girl and he could use that to his advantage.

Klaus decided he would try to push her buttons a little. He knew that she had been apart of the reason that Damon and Mikael didn't kill him, this fact made him curious. She didn't want him dead? Or she did but for some reason she needed him alive? He wasn't sure but whatever the reason, she didn't show any warning signs that she was planning his murder. Besides, she wouldn't have sent him his hybrids like that, proof of what she was, if she planned to use it against him. She was smarter than that, he was sure.

He barely slept as he thought of every possibility. He had so many questions that would never be answered and so many theories that would never be proved.

Meanwhile Y/n was sat at her desk, a book in front of her that she had filled out herself. The title?:Niklaus Mikaelson.

She stayed up all night making sure she studied all of his silly little tricks. She found any connections to witches he still had, she needed to make sure he had nobody powerful beside him. She knew that the rest of the originals would be walking around town soon enough and she couldn't have them in contact with witches as well. The whole damn town would be up in flames.

So she set out early, around half 3 in the morning. She sped to get to the desired states, knife in hand and gun hidden just incase she couldn't get close.

Y/n was gone for over week killing off the closest of Klaus's alliances. By the time she returned, Klaus had Tyler bite Caroline and Elena was missing. Damon rang Y/n in a state, telling her that Stefan had her and was threatening to throw her off Wickery bridge.

Y/n had just gotten into town and pulled her car over when she spotted Stefan's car screeching to a stop. Elena's cries could be heard and Stefan's yelling.

Y/n ran over, opening the car door and pulling Elena out into a hug. Elena sobbed into her chest hysterically while Stefan slammed his own door shut.

"Put her back in the car" he demanded, his eyes still void of any emotion. Y/n went to scream at him but Elena was already there "how could you? My parents died on that bridge- I almost died...you know that...you saved me" she whimpered, holding onto Y/n's sleeve like a little child.

Stefan tried to make the argument that this was the only way to get at Klaus. That he had the upper hand and that he wasn't actually going to drive off the bridge but Elena wasn't budging. She begged to know what would have happened if Klaus didn't give in but Stefan didn’t entertain the idea. After letting Elena stand her own for a moment and seeing Stefan so carelessly regard her life, Y/n snapped.

"Elena get in my car" she instructed and Elena fell quiet. She hesitated for a second, but after taking in the expression on her face and knew it was best not to argue. Obediently, she walked to Y/n's car and sat in the passenger seat. She could see Y/n's phone and so rang Damon, warning him that Stefan may turn up bloody and bruised and also crying down the phone over what happened.

She tried her best not to look up when she could hear the muffled yelling and fighting from in from outside.

Y/n had Stefan on his knees, bleeding from the head and stomach, a hand of his 'hero' hair in her grip as she dragged his face up and leant down "Give Klaus those fucking coffins back or I swear to fuck that I will help him destroy you" she threatened but he shook his head with laboured breathing.

"I won't let him win" he panted and she smacked him across the face making his head whip to the side before back to her

"how blind are you Stefan? If this is how you're behaving then he's already won." she whispered, holding his chin tightly. She scoffed lightly when he wouldn't look and her "you're fucking pathetic" she told him. "If you think for one moment that I'm going to let you petrify Elena, torture everyone around you just for some stupid revenge fantasy-"

"He ruined my life, Y/n! He's already destroyed me and I want to watch him hurt" he growled

"why?" she questioned, knowingly

"Because I'm fucking angry Y/n!" he stated and a small smile quirked at her lips. She could work with Stefan if he felt something, his humanity was trying to come back.

"Then you care too" she whispered "you're just not letting yourself feel everything"

"I can't Y/n" he uttered, his eyes watering "If i let myself feel everything- everything I've done...I can't survive that"

"You deserve to feel the pain Stefan. Look around...you need to feel the hurt so that you can move past it." she told him and he looked down. "I give you until tomorrow night to give in before I'm forced to handle this my way" she muttered before placing her hands at his jaw and snapping his neck to the side.

She got into the car and drove Elena and herself to Caroline's. Klaus was just coming out of her house making Elena lower in her seat while Y/n got out the car.

Klaus glanced her up and down, noting the blood she had splattered all over her clothes and the teary doppelgänger in the car. "Caroline's been healed" he told her calmly, keeping his distance.

"I'll be changing the ownership of that house so you can't get in" she warned and he chuckled, watching as she grabbed a white birthday bag from her boot and walking towards Carolines.

He watched her for a moment as she opened the front door, he listened as she gave Caroline a hug and her birthday present before leaving shortly with the promise of seeing her tomorrow. His eyes locked back on hers as soon as she stepped outside

"what?" she barked and he smirked

"nothing, nothing" he claimed and she sighed "I was just wondering whose blood-"

"Stefan's but don't worry, I didn't kill your boyfriend" she mumbled, heading back to her car

"He's not- oh for gods sake" he muttered, following her "Where is he?"

"Hopefully thinking his time over" she opened her door and looked at him once more "You should have you coffins within 48 hours, if you don't...come find me" she told him for sitting down and closing her door. He watched in interest as she pulled out of the drive and Elena began to whisper to her.

Once they got home Y/n told Elena of her and Stefan's conversation and how she hoped that this would bring the Stefan they knew back. Elena looked at Y/n with a soft look

"You think...he could be something less than a monster?" she asked quietly and Y/n swallowed thickly.

"I think...I think he doesn't want to be a monster" she whispered "I- he wasn't always a monster...so maybe he could...I don't know, like, be better?" she mumbled, confused with the situation herself. "But that doesn't mean I like him, or that you should ever feel like you have to forgive him." she told her and Elena nodded.

"I don't think I can... not for a while" she whispered and Y/n nodded

"That's probably a good thing" she smiled weakly and the two sat for a moment before disappearing to their own rooms in an attempt to get over this day.

Thankfully, with an extra shove from Damon, Stefan came to and agreed to make a truce with Klaus. So they decided to give all the coffins back, however before leaving them in Klaus's living room, they undaggered every last Mikaelson. Except of course, the one which was closed but Y/n had witches on the phone to figure out how to open it already.

It took the help of a lot of Bennet witches, dead and alive, they even had to locate Bonnies mother. Surprisingly there was no sight of Klaus or his family for the few days it took them of draining the coffins magic until they were sure that the seal was broken. Y/n had firm words with Abby and made sure to comfort Bonnie as well as she knew how to.

And then they waited.

Unbeknownst to them, the Mikaelson house was practically a war zone. Klaus had been enduring a series of well deserved torture from each of his siblings, screaming empty threats and promises at them until they temporarily killed him in some of the most painful ways they knew how to shut him up.

Until each of them was silence by the mere presence of their supposed-to-be-dead mother. She claimed the house as her own in a matter of seconds and had her children on a tight leash.

They cleaned up and hid in their rooms, confused, afraid and somewhat hopeful.

Another day went by before Esther decided they needed something special to celebrate their reunion, a ball. She also demanded that they try to find dates. Niklaus especially.

Esther was a clever women, a crafty bitch of a witch. Over her last few years of being on the other side she had kept an eye on Y/n. She had spotted her, seen her potential and invested herself into it. Esther had also happened to see the homecoming, she knew that her son's interest had been captured. She knew how easily Klaus would soften just from a girl being kind to him for a few moments. Whether he liked it or not, Y/n had now taken a place in his mind. Esther also believed that despite Y/n somewhat befriending a couple vampires that her hatred would outweigh any bond she seemingly built and that if she could get her to the ball and spoke to her then she would be of even more use.

And, as expected, Klaus went to the Gilberts house. He had an invitation in one hand and a beautiful ballgown wrapped up in the other. For some reason he had a weird feeling in his stomach and his head ached. He gave a few hesitant knocks to the door and stepped back. He took a breath, fully prepared to be hit and told to fuck off and die.

He did not expect a half asleep Y/n to open the door, her eyes squinted to block the sun, her hair big and fluffy and her face bare of any makeup. Her brows scrunched together when she saw Klaus and she cleared her throat

"Yes?" she asked, trying to sound more assertive but the oversized jumper and sleepy eyes made it far too difficult to take her seriously. He could feel his face twitch to a smile but he tilted his head down to hide it. He shook his head subtly to himself before looking ack to her eyes and opening his mouth to get some words out. Instead, he just ended up staring at her, unable to form the sentence he wanted making her wipe her eyes and wake up more to pay attention.

Her eyes dropped to the gifts in his hands and his awkward, nervous behaviour. "Oh dear" she muttered and his face flushed, was she going to say no before he even asked? With a sigh and an eye roll she reached her hands out and took both items from him, placing the box inside by the door and tearing the envelope over. Klaus watched with wide eyes as she read both the formal invitation and Klaus's personal message where he asked her for a dance. She doubled checked that times before glancing up at him.

"See you at seven" she whispered with a nod before closing the door. He stood there for another minute before turning around and heading home, unsure on what he was supposed to do now.

Meanwhile Y/n walked into the kitchen where the Salvatores, Elena, Caroline, Bonnie and Matt all sat looking to her expectantly. She held up her invitation and in return they each held up theirs.

"Alright so, just so we're all on the same level-" Caroline began, leaning forward in her seat "some guy named Kol has invited me, Elijah invited Bonnie, Rebekah wants Matt and now Klaus has asked Y/n!?" her voice progressively grew louder and higher. Damon and Stefan sighed before Elena spoke

"Yeah.. and uh... Esther, their mother, wants to speak to me...privately" she mumbled and everyone went quiet for a second.

"So do we...go?" Bonnie asked and they all murmured quietly.

"I mean...free drinks and possibly food? Do they do food at dances or do I have to eat before I go?" Y/n asked tiredly and Caroline shook her head

"No no, you'll look bloated if you eat beforehand" She muttered and Damon pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Right" Y/n whispered.

"Screw it, we should go" Elena decided and reluctantly everyone came to an agreement.

The girls would all go to Caroline's to get ready and meet the guys there.

Once they had done each others hair and makeup, made sure they all felt right and ready. They all stayed in Bonnie's car for a little while outside of the Mikaelson mansion

"Something bad is going down tonight" Y/n murmured and Elena sighed.

"We have to face it" she whispered

"Or we get shit faced and forget whatever goes down?" Y/n offered and Bonnie giggled while Caroline placed her hand over her face before opening the door

"come on, lets get" she called and they groaned as they piled out and maid their way inside.

Y/n let them filter out to the Salvatores and their dates while she swiftly weaved her way toward the sweet scent of alcohol. For once she didn't sense Klaus watching her as she downed four flutes of champagne in the space of 60 seconds, letting it rush straight to her head and smiling to herself.

With a quiet chuckle Klaus made his way over, standing just behind her and to her side as he cleared his throat "Y/n?" he called and she whipped round

"Klaus" she greeted and he smirked

"Enjoying the beverages?" he teased lightly

"Uh honestly no, it's rather disgusting but if you drink it fast enough then you don't really taste it" she grinned and he raised a brow

"Well...that's not what I was expecting...then again you've been very unpredictable today...are you feeling alright, love?" He whispered the last bit as though it were a serious matter and she rolled her eyes once more.

"Well everyone else got an invite, I was glad not to be the only one" she told him and he hummed

"I see" he stated, looking her over for a moment before taking a breath and smiling "you look stunning, sweetheart" he complimented and she glanced away from his gaze.

Y/n wasn't the relationship type. She wasn't ever really given compliments, she was rude to most people especially supernaturals and lets face it they covered half the town. The occasions she did attract attention it was because she 'looked hot' or 'sexy' which only pissed her off more and made her avoid any kind of revealing or tight clothes when since the 9th grade. So she didn't really think Klaus meant anything by those words, and she didn't want him or anyone to say things like that if it didn't mean anything.

So she looked past him and ignored the compliment, instead glancing around to spot everyone. "So do you have to like announce the dances or do you just go whenever?" she asked and he tilted his head

"I thought this town had dances all the time, you've never been to one?" he questioned, and she shook her head

"Elena dressed up and did the dances with mom. I went to Aug- I went hunting with dad" she answered and he nodded

"Hunting..." he trailed despite knowing the answer

"Vampires"

"Vampires" he repeated. "When exactly did you start hunting vampires?" he asked curiously and she shrugged.

"I don't really know...I was maybe six or something like that when I saw one and it soon after my dad was filling my head with knowledge on them" she explained and he frowned a little but before he could comment Esther was tapping her glass and encouraging her children to come together so should properly announce the occasion.

Esther switched her gaze between the Gilbert sisters and the Bennet witch. She couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement, everything was going her way. So she stood proudly for a moment as she watched her children dance what she assumed to be their last nights away.

Klaus gently placed his hand on her waist, watching her shift and take a breath before taking his hand. She didn't like to touch him, he could tell by the look in her eyes but she didn't push him away, she still put her hands on him with no intention of harm and that was enough to make Klaus smile.

Y/n tried to forget that he was a psychotic thousand year old vampire/werewolf hybrid just for a moment but it was more difficult this time. The music was slow, unlike the homecoming, and there was a specific routine which she was already struggling to follow which meant he couldn't decide to start spinning her around unless she wanted even more eyes on her and he knew for a fact that she didn't. Klaus could feel how tense she was, her eyes never landed on him and when he tried to compliment her she only looked more uncomfortable.

He sighed to himself and watched her for a short moment. She truly did look elegant that night, like a princess. The dress fit her like a glove and for once he was able to see the soft curves of her body though he knew not to comment on that. He wasn't really sure if he was allowed to comment on anything. She was gorgeous, the makeup on her face only emphasised the features he had already liked on her, like her eyes and her lips. But at the same time he wanted to see her like he did early that day again, when she was drowsy and messy. He liked that she didn't cover up every tiny little mark on her skin or feel that she had to sit and style her hair each morning, though he was still fond of how it had been done for this evening. He had so much he was thinking but he couldn't find a way to say any of it to her. Not when she looked like she'd rather be anywhere but here.

Reluctantly he tried to catch her eye "Love?" he whispered and she glanced to him "can I show you something?" he asked and she nodded, anything would be better than pretending to enjoy any part of that.

So he guided her upstairs, to his art room. She was skeptical but he expected her to be as such. Still, he took her inside and let her look around. His eyes followed her, waiting to see if her expression or body language would give away any of her thoughts or opinions.

Curiously she dug through his sketches, seemingly looking for something specific. He came beside her and placed his hand on top of hers "What are you searching for?" he asked quietly and she looked up at him for a moment. He tilted his head and gave a gentle smile to try and show he bared no harm and she hesitantly told him

"The sun and moon curse...you made drawings right? On scrolls and stuff?" she questioned and he smiled

"I did yes" he confirmed and took her had without thinking, bringing her to his room where he then let her go and began digging under his bed making her laugh. He remerged a moment later with a box, he tossed the lid onto his bed and pulled out a bunch of old, tattered pieces of paper. He flipped through them before bringing a few over to her, letting her hold them and study them with genuine interest. He explained what different parts meant and found himself with a hand on her shoulder as he pointed to different sections.

"Just to be a hybrid?" she questioned and he shook his head

"I don't care that I'm half and half, if anything it's only made things more difficult. I just wanted to feel whole." he told her, glancing to find her fully turned to him and listening making him sit down on the edge of his bed and her to follow suit, much to his surprise, before he continued. "When my mother suppressed my werewolf side, it quite literally felt like part of me was locked deep inside me and begging to be set free. I walked this earth for a thousand years, never feeling quite like myself...though I suppose I don't really know who I am anymore. In some ways your mindset is correct, vampirism changes a person. But it was not vampirism that made me a monster... it was my mother and my...and Mikael. I'm sure you know of plenty humans that you and the rest of the world would consider a beast. If they lived as long as I have, even without the urge to drink blood, they would become a horrible creature no matter their species."

She contemplated his words for some time in silence and he let her. She knew he was right. Anyone would go mad if they had been though the masses that he had and had to keep going that that amount of time. Y/n didn't like that there were so many different ways to think about things. She wished that it was as simple as 'all vampires are evil' but it would never be that way.

She looked at him for a minute or so, it was so odd how someone so vicious could look like an angel. She always told herself it was a disguise but really it was proof of who they used to be. Their eyes especially, they held so much. Especially his, she could see the pain and the sadness, the anger and the betrayal, fear and paranoia, but she could also see that little flicker of warmth. Part of her wished that she could go back and never of left her fathers office, she shouldn't have gone near those vampires. She wished she could help Klaus relight that little spark inside him but she just didn't think she could. Her hatred was deep rooted, she had been and secretly still did torture and experiment on vampires. She had been stealing blood samples from her supernatural friends and giving it to Augustine. For years Y/n assumed that she was doing the right thing, protecting her own, but now she worried that she had been behaving almost as badly as the vampires themselves.

She hesitated slightly but Klaus still saw it, he could see a lot going on in her head and let it settle before speaking again.

"You can keep the aztec sketches" he told her and she blinked at him

"Oh- no that's okay" she smiled and handed them back to him but he pulled his hands away

"I don't know why you wanted to see them but I'm glad that you did and that you spoke to me...listened and what have you. I didn't really think you would come tonight and so I want you to have them as a thank you of sorts?" he told her and she smiled softly

"Can I ask...why would you want me to be here tonight? I mean you have a lot of options, less complicated ones. I don't know what you thought tonight would become but surely you didn't think that anything more could become of this right?" she asked and he shrugged softly

"Maybe one day" he offered but she shook her head

"I will never be a vampire" she reminds "and I don't think I could ever truly have feelings for a vampire and even if I did, what would be the point if I just grew old and you didn't?"

"I'm sure we'll find out soon sweetheart" he whispered.

They both sat quietly for a moment before a thud and a crack could be heard. They both let out a huff before Y/n groaned "Fucking Salvatores"

Klaus let out a laugh and stood up, offering a hand to Y/n and pulling her up "I'm certain a Mikaelson will have involvement too" he smiled and she tutted

"Oh what ever will we do" she whispered as they made their way back downstairs, finding Kol on the floor and Damon standing over him. She gave Klaus a look to which he smiled knowingly as she followed Damon to his car, before turning to deal with his own family.

They were both to busy to realise the glare that Esther had on her face. She had only heard the last few exchanges of their conversation and then that look at each other. She expected Klaus to fall fast but Y/n was supposed to be strong. She was supposed to help kill Klaus. Still, Esther held onto a small amount of hope that Y/n wasn't completely taken yet and would at least stay out of the way when she eliminated the vampire race.

That night everyone seemed to go to sleep with a bucket load full of thoughts swimming around their minds. Some more dreamy and others leaning more towards nightmares. It was unknown which ones would come true.

(There shall be a part 3, I just didn’t want it to be a drag to read all in one go)

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