#marvel vampire au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

celestialspecial · 11 months

Text

Blood Rush

Warnings: Mentions of Blood/ 18+ themes

The pounding beat of the music seemed to reverberate down to the earths mantle. An intense light show swam across the crowd lighting them up in vivid reds and blues, purple tones intermingling on the dance floor.

The entire club was packed to the gills, heat, sweat, and sounds drowned together in one large overwhelming assortment. The entire establishment felt like it was shaking down to its foundation from the pounding bass.

So many warm bodies all in one place. Billy let his eyes close as he leaned over the side of the railing looking down at the crowd. If he focused he could pick out conversations going on all around him.

He didn’t need to strain, no, to their human ears they had to yell. His pale hands gripped the metal pole tighter as he sniffed into the heavy air. Filled with so many different fragrances. Perfumes, sweat, the stench of sex even emanated from a few of the private vip booths.

A lilting soft scent wafted over his nostrils. It was airy, sweet but not overpowering. Whatever it was had his mouth watering. It was blood. But not just any.

He let his sixth sense drift outwards, hoping to pinpoint exactly where the smell was coming from. Ignoring the ache in his stomach, hungering for whatever delicious morsel was unknowingly going to become his next meal.

The next song started and the strobe lights flickered over the packed interior. He could feel the pulse from the DJ booth, the whole floor felt like it was moving as people jumped up and down.

In his earlier days this place would’ve drove him mad. The bursting colors, unconfined smells, the droning music. And the thirst for blood. He would’ve gone mad.

Now it was the only place he could zone out. Far removed from reality. The one place he could fade into the background and pretend. Pretend he wasn’t what he was.

You could feel the buzz start to wear off as you downed your next glass of water, the sweat streaking across your forehead. You brushed at the strands stuck to your face in a futile attempt to cool down.

You could see some of your girl friends still out on the dance floor, the vodka had in fact, helped them dance better. You couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculous penis headbands two of the them wore.

Then Cassie in her short white dress with a ridiculously large sash starting “Same Dick Forever.” The micro veil now very askew on her head.

“…and three waters please.” You smiled at the bartender. You were doing your best to be the mom friend by drinking less but you knew there was no way to get the group back to their respective apartments if you had to drag them.

Another surge of that intoxicating scent rose up from beneath him, this time a little stronger. It had Billy, craning his neck this way and that searching for its source.

Outlined in his enhanced periphery he could see another two or so vamps sniffing into the air as well. Red eyes threading through the crowd greedily.

I don’t think so.

This catch was his. If only he could find them.

“Awwww is this for me?!” Izzy slurred taking the water from your hand. You watched half of it spill onto the dance floor as she regained her balance from holding the cup.

“Yes. Waters all around! Drink up!” Passing the other cups out to your friends and watching them sip something non-alcoholic.

You couldn’t help but giggle, smacking a palm to your forehead as Cassie took a long swig then made a face, realizing it was actually just water.

“What gives?!”

“It’s 3 am, and I promised your fiancé I’d have you home. In one piece.” You emphasized the last part, knowing that would get Cassie to relent.

“Ughhhhh fine.” But she was smiling, her eyes still significantly glazed.

“Alright, bathroom break then one more dance until our Uber is here.” You corralled them off to the side as you whipped out your phone, scanning the latest price increase from Uber and Lyft.

It was more than you wanted to pay but you needed to go home, and there were so many people leaving the clubs right now.

After hitting confirm you could feel it. A cold pin prick crawling up your spine. A quick glance around and you realized no one was touching you, but it felt like it.

All you could see were groups of people dancing as magenta light poured over the establishment in waves. No one.

Izzy said something to Meg and Cassie chuckled but it was all muffled to you. A loud pounding in your ears, your heart rate kicking up a notch.

What the-?

Then you looked up to the balcony where the vip booths and other dancing patrons occupied. A man was staring down at you.

Black eyes and raven hair. Pale skin that absorbed whatever new flash of color the strobe lights were sending out. He didn’t blink as you continued to stare at him.

He was handsome. Not the usual handsome you liked, but a cold almost threatening kind. Jaw set on edge and slicked back hair, almost too uniform to be in a club.

The discomfort in your chest growing with each second neither of you looked away. You swallowed thickly, pushing your sweat drenched hair aside, praying a cool wind from one of the fans would wipe away the cold sweat gathering on your skin.

His nostrils flared and you stumbled backwards, knocking into Izzy and the rest of her untouched water toppled to the floor.

“Hey! What gives?”

“We need to leave now.”

“Why?” Cassie asked, sobering slightly at the hint of panic in your voice.

“There’s a man up there watching us.” You turned to point but he was gone. You brows drew together. “What the fuck?”

“Oooooookay. How many shots did you do while getting us waters?” Cassie giggled, nudging you with her shoulder.

“None I swear, I just-“ a small beep from your phone rang out, “driver is now arriving. Ok guys, we gotta get out of here.”

It was no small task getting the rest of the bachelorette party out, more like herding cats, but you did it as quickly as possible sparing a few extra glances over your shoulder in the process.

Billy had pushed away from the railing and was descending the curved stairs down to the first floor. The second he’d spied the girl below he knew it had been her he’d smelled.

Was he planning to kill her? Suck the blood from her body like he originally intended? Why did he feel like that was no longer an option?

Her wide eyes had pinned him to the spot, and an arousal grew within him, the feeling he got when a hot meal was within reach and something else. Something that brought him pause.

The other vamps hadn’t located the exact scent yet so he needed to move before they noticed him gone. There was something delectable about whatever blood ran through that girls veins.

Untainted, pure. Not pure in the traditional sense of white dresses and sacrifices to volcanos, but something deeper. Bloodlines dating back centuries could give off smells unlike anything else.

Reaching out Billy could practically hear her thrumming pulse calling to him through the darkened club. He licked his lips imagining sinking his fangs into that soft skin, her scent overwhelming him.

Drinking deep, that lifeblood coating his tongue. There were so many vital arteries he could choose from. He ached to bite into her thigh, tasting the sweat on her skin in the process.

A roiling in his stomach set him on edge, only this time it wasn’t from hunger.

Some bouncer pushed past him, shouldering Billy to the side and for the first time since he was turned, Billy stumbled.

Catching the wall only at the last moment. Placing a steadying hand on the bricks to his side, leaning against the cool stone.

A hand shot to his forehead as he felt a shooting pain streak across his vision.

What in hells name?

The Uber pulled up as best it could to the crowded sidewalk. A Prius, way smaller than the picture had looked on the screen of your phone.

Izzy tripped on the curb sliding into the backseat followed closely by a hiccuping Meg. Cassie grabbed the passenger’s side door before stopping.

“Wait, there’s not enough room.” She squinted into the vehicle. You licked your lips, begging your brain to think of another plan.

“Sorry ladies, my cup holder doesn’t go up in the back. Damn things stuck, supposed to get it looked at next week.”

The man gestured to the back seat where sure enough the cup holder had dropped into where a middle seat should be.

“We can wait for another one.” Cassie suggested, hand beginning to loosen on the door handle.

It was late and if you waited any longer it’d be $300 for any type of transport and be over an hour wait.

“You guys go. I’ll get the next one.” You didn’t want to, but you were the only one sober enough to use the app and the streets were busy enough while you waited for your ride.

“Are you sure?” She looked hesitant, Izzy was already passed out asleep in the backseat.

“Yes, go. Tell Dan he’s welcome.” You tried to smile reassuringly but it felt forced.

Cassie noted the struggle in your voice but before she could push back, you opened the door and gently nudged her inside.

“Text me when you get home!” She shouted through the lowered window as the car pulled away.

Shit.

Your fingers felt stiff as you tried desperately to find another rideshare, hell you’d pay through the nose for a cab at this point.

Then you felt it again. That icy sensation tingling along your spine and up your neck.

Whirling around all you could see was throngs of people rushing past into cabs, or onto the next bar that was open.

A swirling mass of coats, hats, vibrant clothes in the hustle and bustle and then a flash of white. A pale face. A familiar face.

The man who’d been looking down at you from the club. People moved in and out, obscuring your vision of him but there he stood.

You willed your feet to move, but your body betrayed you in every sense of the word. Run. Move. Anything.

He was moving towards you now, each movement fluid and calculated. Why hadn’t you just shoved yourself into that damn car with your friends?

What had possessed you to just…not get in?

Somehow the neurons in your body started firing again and you were able to turn tail and run. Bolting as fast as you could down the sidewalk. Weaving in and out of groups of people.

Where the hell were you going? It didn’t matter, you just needed to move. To get out of there as fast as possible. Your sneakers splashing through a puddle as you rounded a corner.

A small convenience stores lights called to you from just a little ways away. You could get in there and call for help. Call the police.

Your arm began reaching out even before you could realistically grab the door handle. Fingers stretching, so close!

Then a hand shot out, grasping your wrist and tugging you into the dark alley to the side. You tripped over your own feet, tumbling to the ground, skirt catching on the rusted edge of a dumpster.

The vice remained on your arm, but now laughter accompanied it.

“Well aren’t you a sweet little thing?” A large hulking man hovered over you, bald, with a stained shirt, beady eyes that seemed to glint red in the moonlight. He smelled sour, a thumping in your chest increased.

As if he could hear the uptick in your heart rate he chuckled to himself. Sniffing the air, bear paw of a hand holding you tightly.

“You smell delicious.” You shuddered understanding the implications, tugging your wrist even though it was futile.

“Let me go!” You screamed even though you were sure no one could hear you.

“Not a chance precious.” He grinned, an evil look danced across his face, mouth parting and then you could see two glimmering white fangs. Elongating before your very eyes.

Then you knew this was it. It was over. You wouldn’t get to see Cassie get married, see Izzy get her graduate degree, you’d never buy your own house or settle down yourself.

Your eyes squeezed shut waiting for the end. But then you heard a shout and suddenly your wrist was freed and the man before you was rolling across the pavement.

His own attacker on top of him, the sounds of a scuffle and tearing flesh.

You crawled off to the side, your fingers felt numb against the cold pavement. You could hear the brawl happening to the side of you but you tried to ignore it.

Instead attempting to lift your body up, willing your knees to stop shaking so you could stand. So you could run.

A shout rang out, bouncing off the enclosed space and the bald man stumbled back a few paces. A huge hand grasping the side of his neck where blood was shooting out in spurts.

That ice water chill shot through your veins once more, the dark haired man stood back facing you, panting. His shoulders rising and falling underneath his stained hoodie.

The other man, no- vampire, pulled back eyes darting to yours.

Narrowed as if second thinking his retreat but the snarl that came from your protector-reassured the idea that leaving was the best idea.

The words froze in your mouth, was thank you enough? Could you even form a coherent thought right now? Heart still racing.

The dark haired man looked back at you and the shudder that ran through your body nearly knocked you back to the ground.

Blood soaked the front of his sweatshirt and smeared along his mouth. A mouth that held two sharp canines, equally covered in red.

His eyes looked wild, scratches marred his clothing from the fight. A lump in your throat tightened watching the drop of blood drip from his mouth into a puddle at his feet.

You felt along the wall to your side, desperate to stabilize yourself and begin running again.

You weren't sure how, maybe he could read thoughts, you'd never met a vampire before. But he was on you in less than a blink.

His hands gripped your biceps, pushing your back into the wall behind you. His eyes were so black you couldn’t see the pupil, but when the light caught on them from a passing cars headlights you swore they were red.

Your body was frozen to the spot, limp in his grasp.

“Why do you smell so goddamn good?” He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, snarling against the heated skin.

His scruff scraping against you, his tongue darting out to lick a long stripe up the column of your throat.

The noise that escaped your mouth must have pleased him, because you could feel him muffle a sound of amusement against you.

Billy had been a vampire for so long now, years of practice controlling his hunger and urges but this girl seemed to unravel all that.

If he’d been newly turned he would’ve torn into her throat without a second thought. Allowing the hot blood to flow unencumbered into his mouth.

It took almost all his control to not just bite and drink all that he could. Pulling back, his once slicked back hair now falling into his face.

Framing his pale skin and dark blood red eyes, fangs protruding as he huffed a laugh at her expression. He must’ve been quite a sight. Torn from the pages of horror comics.

Her heart was thundering in her chest, those gorgeous eyes wide and beautiful full lips parted in fear but, hell, what would they look like parted in ecstasy?

Billy could feel his pants becoming tighter just at the thought. No. He needed a taste. Something to whet his appetite, nothing lethal.

His thumbs rubbed at the exposed skin on her arms where he held her firmly in place.

“Please let me go.” She stammered, it was soft, pleading. It tugged at a long forgotten part of him that remained from his time as a human.

It almost worked.

“No I can’t do that. Not yet.”

Leaning in Billy kissed the side of your neck. Sucking a long slow spot where your shoulder met in a delicate crease. Another delicately placed kiss to the clavicle, working his way up to nip at your ear.

Your treasonous body relaxed into his grasp, turning to soft putty under those strong hands that still held you in place.

His eyes fell shut, smothering a groan against your skin as he could smell your own arousal dampening between your legs.

Why was this girl making things so much harder for him?

Some vampires chased their prey, claiming the fear and adrenaline pumping through their victims bodies was the closest they could get to a high they had experienced as humans.

Billy disagreed. Pleasure tasted so much sweeter than fear. That metallic tang was pleasant when you were a newbie. A fresh kill that had you feeling dangerous and all powerful.

But desire? Lust? There was no comparison. It trumped all other emotions flooding the system when he fed. It made him feel truly alive and lulled his generous donors into a blissful relaxed state.

In a swift movement, he had your hands pinned overhead. Holding them tight against the brick wall. He was so close to you now, his breath scattered the few stray strands of hair that had fallen over your shoulder.

A strong muscled leg inched between your own, spreading them apart millimeter by millimeter. You bit your bottom lip so hard it drew blood.

Dark eyes immediately darted to your face, sniffing the air once. All while keeping both your hands pinned with his inhuman strength, the other hand drifting to capture your chin.

Holding it in place before sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. You cursed yourself as shockwaves of pleasure soared through your bloodstream. Both of you moaning at the sudden sensations.

“Are you going to kill me?”

The man before you pulled back at that. Eyes that had been fixed on your lips now lazily drifting over the rest of your face before making contact with your own.

His thumb grazed your lip that was now swollen from where he’d sucked the rivulet of blood free.

“No.” He paused, as if to say something else but then thought better of it. At that you felt your body relax, sinking against his raised leg.

His knee rose further up, pressing into you firmly enough you gasped at the contact. He bounced it higher, your sneakers scraping desperate for purchase onto the ground, but they no longer made contact .

“That doesn’t mean I’m not going to have some fun with you.”

#billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #billy russo fanfic #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher au #vampire!billy #vampire!billyrusso #billy russo x you #billy russo the punisher #vampire #the punisher marvel

224 notes · View notes

unholyhelbig · 5 months

Note

It's been a year since any vampire Kate 😭

Title: I Don't Bite [Part Eight]

Ship: Female!Reader x Vampire!Kate Bishop

Wordcount: 2297

Warnings: Mentions of sex, blood, Tony Stark, and horrible grammar.

[A/n: I straight up hate this, but I've written myself into a bit of a corner and think that you guys deserve an ending to this one soon, so here's an update! I do have more ideas for Vampire Kate just not... this]

Read from the Start | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

There was a staleness to your home after three days of being abandoned. The sun was filtering through rolling dark clouds, a coldness filling your bones. The place you’d resided in for the last year didn’t feel like yours anymore. A smudge of dark brown blood against the doorframe to the bathroom was the only trace that Kate had ever stepped foot here.

Her car wasn’t in the driveway. Your fingers trembled as you struggled to open the door. Bobbi and Jemma’s home was eerily quiet, as if it had been abandoned long ago. The lights leading up to the front door were the only sign of life. Your heart was pounding in your throat by the time your back pressed against the inside of your door.

It may have been foolish to return here, but you simply had nowhere else to go. The worry you held for a woman that you had spent a single night in a dingy hotel room with, was alarming, if not understandable. You were willing to risk your job for her safety and risk your life for the same.

You pulled a mug from your kitchen cabinet and filled it with lukewarm water, gulping it down without regard for the moisture that soaked into the collar of your shirt- Kate’s shirt- that you were reluctant to take off despite it being wrinkled with wear.

“You have no survival instincts, do you?”

The voice startled you, water sputtering from your lips. You coughed at the unfamiliar feeling of drowning is the most trivial regard. Your intuition kicked in, finally, and you grasped the largest knife from the butcher block by the sink. You held it between you and Jemma, her eyebrow raised.

“What do you intend to do with that thing? Stab me?”

“If I have to, yes.”

She was leaning back in one of your kitchen chairs, her legs crossed with an elegance that always accompanied her. For a moment, you considered asking how she got in, but it would be easy for a SHIELD agent to do so, and you decided not to waste your breath. Despite yourself, you were in awe of the still and calm nature she exuded.

“Y/n, we both know you don’t have it in you.” She stood and walked to the side of the counter, all the while, your grip tightened on the steak knife, the tip twisting in the air. “Maybe you do. I keep telling Bobbi not to underestimate the power of infatuation.”

“Are you even a biochemist, or was that a lie too?”

“Oh no, I’m quite gifted in the field. I’m a woman of science, and so is Bobbi. It’s why they put the two of us here in the first place, to understand Kate. What she is and what her intentions are.” There was a hint of honesty to her voice that you were inclined to believe. “SHIELD’s job is to minimize civilian involvement in the unknown. Neither of us wanted to see you get involved.”

Your arm was starting to ache, the knife between the two of you faltering before you regained your grip, steeling yourself. A laugh threatened to bubble from your chest. This was all ridiculous. There was a spy in your kitchen hunting a vampire. Just last month you wouldn’t’ dream of holding a blade between yourself and Jemma.

She was packing though, and the gesture made you feel just a tick better than if you were empty handed. “Civilian involvement, Jemma, I’ve heard all about Tony Starks ties to you. SHIELD is all over his documents, it practically bleeds ignorance.”

Jemma drummed her fingers against the granite of the counter, letting out a heavy sigh. Her eyes flicked to the front door, and then the glass of the back. She had an eye on all of her exits, and that made a deep seed of worry settle in the pit of your stomach.

“We’re not the bad guys here, Y/n. You’ve worked for Tony and Pepper for what? Ten years now? That must build some type of trust. Stark may be daft sometimes, but he doesn’t’ back ideas he doesn’t believe in. You know that.”

You did know that. Though you had started out fetching coffee for Pepper, you’d soon climb the ranks from an intern to a personal assistant that was not only privy to the companies’ deepest secrets, but the sharpest decisions. Tony, despite his peacocking, was a good guy that you’d put your confidence in.

“Bobbi, she’s good but she’s rash. I tried to talk her out of cornering you like she did. But despite her brashness she has a point. You’re putting your faith in the wrong direction.” Jemma gently pushed your hand down, moving the sharp end of the knife to the floor. She didn’t’ attempt to pry it from you. “There are things in this world, y/n, that need to be researched to be understood.”

Jemma asked you where Kate was, and your eyes darted down to the blade before retuning it to the wooden block with ease. You told her that you didn’t’ know, that Kate had left you in the hotel room for your own safety. The biochemist seemed to believe you in earnest.

She squeezed your shoulder once before slipping out the back door. You made a point to flip the deadbolt the second she took a step onto the grass. Your mouth was incredibly dry again, eyes clenched shut in an attempt to unscramble your thoughts.

You were growing exhausted with the light B&E, climbing the stairs with a heavy disposition. You’d have to return to the office tomorrow to face Pepper with your bad decisions, maybe even Tony if he had caught wind of your unresolved issues with SHIELD.

You needed to wash the filmy hotel soap from your skin, the sweat that soaked into the fabric of your shirt during your conversation with Jemma. You flicked on the water, letting the room fill with a dense steam before stripping down to nothing but your bra and underwear. You drew in a dense, warm breath.

There was a cool touch against the bare skin of your back and a yelp escaped your lips. You turned quickly, using the back of your hand to slam blindly against the stranger. Your knuckles made contact with something hard and icy.

“Okay, I deserved that. Nice right hook, darling.”

Kate’s smooth voice settled into your veins, the steam from your running shower made her eyes look glassy, but they were filled with relief. You couldn’t’ say the same. Instead, you frowned and gave her a shove, the punch to the face not seeming like enough.

“What the hell, Kate! I thought you’d gotten yourself killed. Leaving a cryptic note like that and having me foot the bill for the motel? Dick move.” You shoved her again but took a step to keep the gap between the both of you minimal. “Don’t try to stop me. We’re a little too far for that, don’t you think?”

This time, when you moved to shove her again, her cool fingers wrapped around your wrist. She held your still with minimal effort, pulling your forward to slot against her body. Kate smelled like the earth, like blood and the cleanliness of detergent. She was taller than you, only by a few inches, but it was enough for your eyes to flick up.

The pads of her fingers moved down your bare spine, sending shivers across your body. Each time you thought you were done, each time you thought that the mess you had gotten into was slowly fizzing to an end, Kate would waltz in with her suave confidence, her frigid skin, her kind eyes that betrayed her true nature.

“I meant what I said,” She whispered to you, “I wanted to come sooner, I did, but something tells me Jemma left behind a few gifts. They can’t hear us over the water.”

“You do have a plan, then?”

“Not quite.” She sighed out, pressing her forehead against yours “But I needed to see you. Your lack of clothing is just an obvious bonus.”

She must have heard your heartbeat pick up, because Kate had a cocky smirk against her lips, tempered gray eyes clouding with lust. Despite the innate danger of simply being in her presence, you couldn’t deny your want for her.

Kate’s fingers ghosted your jawline “I can smell how much you want me, pet.”

You groaned at the words, blood blooming in a brilliant red against your cheeks. You hid your face in the crook of her neck out of embarrassment. It was infuriating, the power she had over you. But in this moment, you’d give everything up for her; your job, your home, your life if she asked.

If it were anyone else, her assuredness would infuriate you. But instead, her words, the edge of affection in her voice, made you tremble with need. Kate chuckled and the sound vibrated against your cheek.

“No reason to be shy,” Kate gently pulled back, guiding your eyes back to her.

She looked down at you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You weren’t quite sure who closed the distance between you, and in that moment, you didn’t care. Her lips were soft, and tasted slightly of salt. Kate made a quiet noise, brushing her tongue against your bottom lip.

Her nails raked up the bare flesh of your thighs and you gasped into her mouth at the sensation, allowing her entrance, her tongue pressed to the roof of your mouth as her fingers ghosted your ribs, the sensation making your stomach flutter.

“Is this alright?” She pulled back, and you whimpered at the loss of contact, suddenly ashamed of the effect she had on you. Kate was smiling in a way that conveyed triumph. “I promise, I’ll be gentle.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Katie.”

There was a soreness to your body that lulled you into taking the elevator up to your floor the next day. Kate, had in fact, broken her promise four times and that was enough for you to consider cashing in on the vacation days you’d built up. If it weren’t for the bloodthirsty spies, or the less bloodthirsty vampire, debacle you would have done just that.

“Well, you have a bit of pep to your step this morning Miss Y/L/N.”

“Good morning, Mr. Stark”

One of the reasons you didn’t’ take the elevator was that Tony Stark took the elevator. You’d rather dash up flights of stairs and work up a sweat than suffer through a few minutes of small talk with your boss. Especially during current circumstances.

He was dressed casually, a T-shirt and jeans, telling you that he had spent most of his morning in the lab. A cup of coffee was in his hand, steaming and filling the small space with the thick scent.

Kate had littered your collarbone with dark purple blotches, and you had let her. Ther was something intoxicating about feeling her sharp teeth brush against your skin, never breaking it but marking you all the same. You tugged the lapel of your coat, covering whatever had slipped through your collar.

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with your new friend, would it?” Tony asked.

You drew in a sharp breath and suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here. You were between floors in the elevator, the world whistling by at your back. The city looked so small as you glided towards the main office where Pepper was located.

Tony turned quickly and hit the button for the elevator to halt to a startling stop. He spilled a few drops of coffee but didn’t’ flinch as the hot liquid dripped down his hand, instead he wiped it away and gave you a deep stare. Your back was already pressed against the cold glass.

“Relax, kid, I just want to talk.”

“A lot of people just want to talk lately, and frankly I’m getting sick of everyone cornering me like this.” You said, hands gripping the railing. “Stark, I’m claustrophobic.”

“This will only take a minute.”

“If you’re going to tell me to give up Kate, forget it. I’ve heard it before, a-lot. But from where I’m sitting, the only people that are a danger to me is you and your secret organization, with your spies and your tech and your-“

“Y/n, I agree with you.”

He’d cut you off with a simple sentence. Your heart was pounding and you were white-knuckling the railing. You narrowed your eyes at him, lifting a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. There was a level of trust here, sharing a small space with an Avenger. The cockiest, most impulsive one, but an Avenger all the same.

“What?”

“I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life, and I’ve spent years trying to remedy them, protect the world from myself more than anything.” He frowned into his coffee, not looking you in the eye. “There are some people out there that without a doubt, don’t deserve a second chance. But neutralizing someone before they’ve gotten a first? That’s not how I run things.”

“You can call them off, then?” You asked.

“It doesn’t’ work like that. I work for them, not the other way around. I can make a few calls, but I can’t promise anything. I just…” He hesitated, chewing the inside of his lip “You’re like some weird, fucked up daughter to me, and I don’t want you to get hurt. Or undead, or whatever comes with what she is.”

You pried yourself from the railing and embraced him. He let out a startled breath but eventually relaxed into the hug, rubbing his hand against your back. “Alright kid, alright.”

#Kate Bishop #Kate Bishop x reader #Vampire Kate Bishop #Vampire au #Kate Bishop x you #Kate Bishop x y/n #Marvel #Marvel Fanfiction #Hawkeye #hawkeye fanfiction

71 notes · View notes

monster-cock69 · 7 months

Text

Vampire Tony drinking a blood bag and realizing that it’s his soulmate’s blood and going on the hunt for Peter

#starker #vampire au #prompt #if I already posted this punch me #peter parker #tony stark #avengers #marvel #spiderman #iron man #someone please write this #vampire Tony #blood donor Peter

74 notes · View notes

upagainstthewallwithme · 7 months

Text

Bad Idea Right?

Vampire!Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Kinktober, Day 1: Love Bites. @flightlessangelwings

Word Count 980

You didn’t fall in love with her because she was different. But, that didn’t mean she wasn’t different. Natasha was hypnotizing. Her beauty and her voice made it hard to think when she was around.

You knew you loved Natasha for more than just what she was. You knew it. But you weren’t quite sure why. It was hard to remember sometimes.

Her voice was a lull. Smooth always, like a soft coating on your insides. Or a finger dragging lightly over your skin. Her touch could make your skin burn, always wanting more.

Natasha’s tongue was like that too. Smooth, and hot. The scrape of her teeth. Making you want her.

You couldn’t always recall the details. Like where she came from. Or how you’d met.

But when you felt her touch. When her eyes held yours and your heart faltered, like a rabbit caught in the air. The silken feel of Natasha was draped over everything.

Her red hair, catching the light. Natasha was a sunset, burning with the last embers of light. She didn’t care about your family, or the friends you’d had before. You didn’t blame her. You didn’t care about them either, not anymore.

Natasha was meant for you. When you woke up in your bed, every morning. The sweet aches of the night before were like a soothing balm. She’d been here with you. She’d be here again.

You checked the time now. The night was drawing in. Natasha would come for you any second. Your skin itched with the anticipation. Natasha was like a drug that wouldn’t leave you. You tried not to think about her, but there was nothing else to think about. You kept your eyes on the dark window, waiting for headlights to illuminate the dark.

Natasha arrived and you heard the gravel crunch beneath tires. Your heart began its unsteady pounding.

Yesterday, she’d still been hungry when she’d left. You knew she was trying to hold back. She was trying to keep you alive for longer. She was too good for you.

You wanted to cry, Natasha didn’t understand that you wanted her to have it. Your blood, your love, your body, your soul. They were hers already, what did it matter.

You watched Natasha slam the car door shut. Her tight silver dress made her pale skin glow like moonbeams. She gazed up at the window and her eyes met yours. For a moment, they were red. You gulped and she watched your neck move.

You listened to her enter the house. You could hear her heels clacking across the floor beneath you. You waited for the sharp footsteps to come to you.

Your body began to tremble and you shifted with the need building inside you. You crossed your legs tightly as the need began to throb. Natasha’s footsteps were now on the staircase. Any second now. You gripped the fabric of your bed. The door opened fully and Natasha stood there. She was centered in the doorway. Her loose curls flickered like hot flames. You stopped breathing.

She was here.

‘What have you been doing?’ She asked, her voice low and accusatory.

‘Waiting for you.’ You whispered, throat thick with longing. You wanted her to pull you close. You wanted permission like a sharp pull of your hair. Her voice ran through you, slick like water.

Natasha regarded you from the doorway. You watched her tongue run over the sharp ridges of her teeth.

‘Liar.’ She spat. Fear jolted you, but the desperate longing didn’t stutter. You started to speak, but Natasha held up a finger and you quietened immediately.

‘I can smell you.’ Natasha told you with cutting precision. Your cheeks warmed, the realization. Your thighs clenched needlessly, the wetness of your underwear touched your skin.

‘Oh.’ You whispered again. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You’re needy.’ She accused again as she walked towards you. ‘I left here for you. And I come back to this.’

‘I’m sorry.’ You whispered again. Natasha ran her tongue over her teeth. You wanted to beg her. To touch you. To hurt you. To hurry.

‘Come here.’ She said at last. Her voice was calm now, almost melodic.

You walked forward, compelled by everything that made her irresistible. She smiled with barely hidden delight. Her sharp teeth caught the light.

You wanted her. Your heart thumped harder, desperate to be close to her.

Her fingers slid into your hair. They tightened sharply and you yelped. Natasha’s red eyes were endless. Your mouth was dry. You wanted her so much.

You opened your mouth. Would she listen if you begged?

Natasha’s lips moved to the crook of your neck.

The last thoughts slid from your mind as pleasure coated everything.

At last. At last.

Her tongue ran lower. She pulled your head back by your hair. Your neck was exposed to her. You stopped breathing and felt your vision begin to blur.

Her first kiss touched you just below the ear. It was soft and light, but warm enough to melt you. Her teeth barely grazed your skin. Your body was shuddering. The heat of her lips. You wanted to scream, but you’d forgotten your lungs.

Her tongue ran lower. She kissed your shoulder. Her teeth pressed your skin.

Your knees tried to buckle. She gripped your side now. Holding you upright. You tried to stay conscious. You didn’t want to forget.

Natasha murmured your name. A breath gasped into your lungs.

She bit the base of your neck.

You whined with pleasure, pain mixed in.

Somewhere, somewhere. You went somewhere else.

‘I love you.’ Natasha whispered a moment later. Her throat was coated with the taste of you.

Her tongue slid back and forth over the bite.

You whimpered. You could feel the bruise forming with the sweet ache. Natasha’s grip loosened and she stroked your hair. You felt beautiful.

#natasha romanoff x reader #vampire!au #Vampire!natasha romanoff #marvel au #fawktober2023 #kinktober #vampire!nat

102 notes · View notes

puppetmaster13u · 8 months

Text

Batman & Spiderman crossover, with the batfam having a bit of spider bite issues. Honestly is it too much to not have a local creature mutated in Gotham? Especially a giant ass spider-thing?? Why does it seem to get bigger each time they see it??? Aka, the batclan are also a spiderclan with various levels of spider-abilities.

Ideas for names/strongest spider ability: Batman = Spiderbat(?) Mr Anxiety deserves a very powerful spider-sense

Nightwing = Nightslinger(?) He deserves organic webbing that he can use to go places

Redhood = Orbhood(?) Let's be honest, give him the fangs & stingers that some variations had

Oracle = Seer(?) She deserves to have the enhanced senses

Black Bat = Dark Spider(?) Give her the wall-crawling abilities for peak shadow creachur vibes

Red Robin = Red Weaver(?) Let him have the hibernative super-healing

Spoiler = Jorogirl(?) She deserves the enhanced healing factor to go along with her gremlin-ness

Signal = Radiance(?) He already has a bunch of powers but honestly give him night vision too

Robin = Spiderling(?) Allow this boy to communicate with spiders

Jarro = Sparro(?)

#dc x marvel #dcu #prompts #spiderman #spiderbat au #batman au #cryptid batfam #batkids #batman #batfamily #Honestly there's so many more spider-based abilties they could have but I am trying to limit myself to canon #Tim: *looses spleen*#Also Tim: Whelp I guess I'll grow it back now #trying to stick to canon but also what if they all had fangs/venom #make people whisper about how the waynes or gotham vigilantes are vampires lol

74 notes · View notes

nekojetto · 1 year

Photo

Is it a strangesona? Is it an AU ? 🤷‍♂️ compliquate question!

I imagined a story about Suprem falling into an other univers where Christine is alive (As Chris) so Suprem fallow him everywhere just because he’s scared something bad happened to him as his original Christine. And I just wanted to simplify Suprem’s design because I have difficulties to draw him x) But it’s just because he’s from a 3D serie and I just need to adapt/ simplify his design. But of course I prefer his original design! (sorry the three last draw are from and old design for Chris x))

But now you can totally find him too OOC so :/ idk how to call this idea x)

Oh and the Bucky’s design is from an @harlekin6 ‘s idea where Bucky(from zombie AU) fall into Suprem dimention and they become friend :D That’s why he has his old blue uniform /o/

#marvel #what if...?#suprem strange #strange supreme #doctor strange #doctor strange supreme #Bucky barns #AU #charadesign #sketch #doodles #my art #artist on tumblr #as always nothing serious to see here #And yes some of my friend already said me he looks like a vampire and it s not what I wanted :(

316 notes · View notes

haflacky · 11 months

Text

Last month I drew some sweet fanarts for my patreon as always! 💔

And you can find all of them and 500+ exclusive posts on my patreon only for 2,5-5 usd! I’m always grateful for your support, only it allows me to draw more content for you! 🥺💕

116 notes · View notes

frying-panties · 2 months

Text

Some Vampire!Frank Castle and Karen Page

Clawing my way out of my semi-hiatus as caused by my mental and partly physical(???) health 🤠 I truly can't wait to make life bark at my command!

#frank castle #karen page #kastle #punisher #marvel #vampire #au #art #doodle #artist #commission #digital art #procreate #drawing #commissions #digital drawing #illustration

25 notes · View notes

hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch · 9 months

Text

Nat: I think your girlfriend is a little possessive…

Wanda: What do you mean?

Nat: Well…..

Vampire!Y/n wrapped around Wanda’s body like a spider monkey: Go on Nat

Nat: Why are you so attached?

Vampire!Y/n: I can smell the way people think about her and I don’t like it, she’s mine

Wanda: I think it’s cute

Nat: I think it’s creepy

Vampire!Y/n: I think you should keep your inappropriate thoughts and feelings to yourself Natalia, the stench of arousal coming off of you is almost stifling

Nat:

Wanda:

Vampire!Y/n: Anyway how about dessert *looking at Wanda’s neck* I’m craving something sweet and red

#marvel #wanda maximoff #mcu #wanda maximov #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel incorrect quotes #natasha romanoff #marvel au #marvel imagine #vampire!Y/n x Wanda #vampire!reader #vampire!reader x Wanda maximoff

844 notes · View notes

gaysindistress · 7 months

Text

Van Helsing Retold - masterlist

pairing: Vamp!Bucky Barnes x Vamp Hunter!reader

status: complete

Summary: Under the cover of night, vampires and their hunters have been at war for centuries, never letting their bloodshed reach the light of day. That is until the wife of a powerful vampire leader, Steve Rogers is murdered and he demands revenge. Y/N Van Helsing is the target of his crusade and she comes face to face with his right hand man, Bucky Barnes.

warnings: Vamp!Bucky, cursing, vampires, death,, violence, angst, fluff, murder, violence, weapons. Each chapter will have it’s own warnings as well and please read at your own risk!

gaysindistress masterlist

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest. The women in the banners are not how Y/N is supposed to look. They are merely for aesthetic purposes and Y/N is written so that anyone to see themselves in her.

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #vampire bucky barnes #vampire #vampire!bucky x reader #vampire au #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel imagine #marvel #van helsing retold Bucky

191 notes · View notes

celestialspecial · 10 months

Text

Blood Rush (Pt.2)

Read Part 1 Here

After being alive for far longer than any man should be, Billy is convinced he's seen it all. Until his path crosses with a mysterious girl and the game changes-for both of them. In ways neither could have ever imagined.

Warnings for Series: Mentions and descriptions of blood/grisly scenes, 18+themes and spice, use your own judgement.

One second you were in a dark alleyway, the musty smell infiltrated your nostrils. The dank heaviness that hung in the air.

Then you could smell the man holding onto you- a musky scent, punctuated with a spice you couldn’t place. It wafted from his skin, from his hair that hung in your face.

The dull ache between your legs, a pressure from his knee pressing where you needed it but it wasn’t enough. You never needed anything quite so bad before.

An unhinged desire seemed to crash against you in waves. Then you felt it. A sharp prick against your neck, searing pain then bliss.

Like all the blood in your body was replaced with warm honey. Flowing through your veins, every major artery pulsed in pleasure.

If this was deaths warm embrace perhaps you could stomach it. A slow decent into darkness.

Billy fed and fed until he could feel a wobble in your pulse. Pulling back and staunching the flow with a pin prick of his own blood.

You’d slowly slipped into unconsciousness, held in place by his arms. The buzzing in his head reached a fever pitch.

You tasted so good but it wasn’t what he’d experienced before. Some peoples blood just tasted better, gave off an undeniable fragrance that tantalized the intense sense of a vamp.

This wasn’t that.

He felt a prickling sensation creep across his skin and heat rose to his cheeks. THe usual blood rush would streak through his system in a matter of minutes.

This built slowly. The poor girl in his arms shifted and Billy knew he needed to get her home and off the streets. God forbid another vamp came back with friends looking to end her for good.

Her wallet had an ID and address on the other side of town. Resting her against his chest as he thumbed through the other contents of her purse to verify this information.

Something stopped him cold in his process. His fingers. They looked…pink.

The pale flesh he had grown accustomed to was replaced with a soft tinge of a flush. The pads a deeper hue of the tone.

His heart sunk. He’d drunk too much. He’d killed her, for the blood to overtake him so powerfully.

Pushing aside your hair, fingers skimming against the revealed skin. He felt a pulse. It wasn’t weak or fading. She truly was just passed out.

Shaking his head, Billy adjusted the wallet back into her purse and tossed her into a carry that allowed him to move more easily.

What would take a normal person hours to traverse, it only took Billy less than 15 minutes. Moving quickly and staying out of sight, carrying this girl in his arms with ease.

He could feel the blood settling into his system. Strength and speed picking up, it was as if his joints crackled with newfound power and dexterity.

Muscles tensing and releasing in powerful synchronicity.

It was a familiar rush that happened after every feeding.Go too far and an inexperienced vampire could go drunk with that power. Become lost in it.

Losing sense of time and space itself. Some would go crazy. Killing and killing until another vampire took them out for risk of being caught and their species being exposed.

The door to your apartment popped open, key swinging inward as Billy carried you over the threshold carefully so as not to wake any prying neighbors.

It was a small place he noticed. A tiny kitchen table strewn with all matter of paper. The dark screen of a laptop stared back at him.

A couch in a makeshift living room, bookshelves from floor to ceiling completely enveloped in books on every subject. He didn’t miss the few shelves dedicated to romance novels.

If he didn’t know better he’d say he felt the telltale whisper of a blush on his cheeks. What did you like to read about? What naughty ideas popped into your head when reading them?

Did you touch yourself-

No.

He needed to get you to your bed then leave. And probably never see you again. The thought turned his stomach in a way he didn’t want to think about.

A small bedroom stood off to the side, a queen bed consumed almost the entire room. Soft purple sheets and a crumpled duvet lay off to the side.

Setting you down gently, adjusting the pillow so your hair splayed across it, he took a step back.

You looked so small and innocent lying here before him. Grabbing the corner of the duvet he pulled it up to your shoulders. Being sure not to make it look too staged that you were tucked in.

Denying himself the urge to reach out and caress the skin of your cheek. How had you not been killed by another vampire smelling the delicious scent that you carried?

The thought would most likely consume him in the high hours of the day when he’d be trying to sleep.

Along with thoughts of your face.

The undeniable tightness at the front of his pants reminded him he needed to go. Making sure the key was back on your table with your purse as he climbed out the window onto the nearby fire escape.

Billy didn’t remember the last time he prayed. Maybe it was as he lay in the street bleeding out. How he’d foolishly believed his prayer was being answered at the sight of a beautiful face above him.

How stupid he’d been.

But tonight he’d pray. For your safety, that for however long you had seemed to fly under the radar of the vampires in the city, that it would continue.

And with that, he pushed off from the wrought iron railing, jumping to the alleyway below and taking off back in the opposite direction of your home.

“Damn you look like shit.” Cassie lovingly noted through your FaceTime call in the morning.

“Gee thanks. I feel great.” The sarcasm leeches into your words as you tossed your hair into a messy updo, grabbing the nearby spoon coated in peanut butter.

“Sorry, I just didn’t realize you’d partied so hard. You didn’t even text me you got home!”

To be honest you didn’t remember getting home. All you remembered were deep red eyes and a flourish of pleasure coursing through your veins before passing out.

Somewhere in there you must’ve got your shit together and called a cab. How else would you have got home?

You did not plan on mentioning the fact that bloodsucking vampires existed and you almost became one’s meal last night.

Your body tensed at the thought of the large bald man with razor sharp fangs.

But then the other man…the handsome one who had been watching you from the club.

How he’d found you after you’d taken off, how he’d saved your life.

“Earth to bestie?”

“Sorry. I’m just really tired. I passed out and totally forgot to text, but as you can see I am home. I am safe. I am dead tired.”

Your response seemed to assuage your friend as she visibly relaxed on her end of the phone screen.

“Im just glad you’re ok. I could tell you were feeling…itchy to leave.” She delicately danced around the subject of you feeling you had been watched.

You had been right.

“Yeah I’m just going to veg out and catch up on some tv shows before work tomorrow.” You took the peanut butter covered spoon into your mouth as you navigated your pathetically small kitchen.

Work. Right.

Sex and the city had made writing in New York seem like a dream gig. You’d have a penthouse somewhere in the upper east side, glamorous outfits to don to extravagant parties.

Instead you were behind a month in rent for a flat the size of a matchbox. You owned exactly three button up shirts that were work appropriate and the rest of your wardrobe consisted of T-shirts with various wolves and dragons on them.

Cleaning the last of the peanut butter off the spoon and tossing it into the sink with a metallic clang you turned back to Cassie, taking a deep inhale, forefingers and thumbs touching in a mock gesture if inner peace.

“Aaaaaand I’m going to prepare for my interview tomorrow.”

“That’s right!! Who was it with again?”

Tugging at the hem of your sleep shorts, ripping a loose thread before you set the phone down, sticking your head in the fridge to see what food you had. Food that was still edible and not having expired months ago.

You frowned as you picked up an old yogurt container that was slowly evolving into a living breathing animal. Tossing the mold ridden thing into the trash.

“Some big shot CEO. Founded Anvil, a personal security service or something. I don’t know, he’s probably one of those high and mighty types.”

“Why’d they give you that interview? It seems like a big deal and you seem….blasé about it.”

The sigh, slash groan that dramatically left your lips as you slammed the fridge door shut, collapsing into a seat at your very tiny kitchen table.

“Because Maura is out on maternity leave, Ross is out of the country on vacation and Jeremy is covering fashion week. The dream team is occupied so they’re stuck with me.”

Cassie frowned, brows furrowed on her semi pixelated brow.

“I don’t like this kinda attitude. YOU are an amazing writer and deserve to be considered a top tier “dream team” occupant as well as any of those others.”

You wanted to believe her, you really did. But writing was your passion and honestly all the projects you’d been put on as of late fell short. No stories had enthralled you, and your lack of enthusiasm clearly showed.

“Cas, I’m tired. I don’t know if I have another droll business-y interview left in me. I try, I really do, but I don’t care about the latest vegan restaurant opening in soho or the new wearable garbage that vogue is printing. How am I supposed to stoke a fire with my words when I’m given the scraps?”

What started as boredom had turned into a blood pumping anger fueled vent session.

“I don’t want to interview a ceo. What am I supposed to ask? Did you always dream of being a millionaire? How do you feel about the stock market right now? Are your suits custom or store bought at Saks?”

“I’m gonna cut you off right there-“ Cassie interjected. “You got a piss poor attitude about this. I know it’s not your dream gig. I know you’re tired, but a high ranking business owner who runs a company making a small fortune that HELLO, people know about.”

She took a long deep breath before continuing.

“People, maybe not you…or me…but people, know about this company and want to hear about its owner. Think of them, write it for them. People who look up to this guy and want to be inspired. Inspire them. Paint one of those lovely pictures with your words.”

Damn her. Cassie was right. Just because you didn’t care about this company didn’t mean other people didn’t.

And this could be the chance for you to impress your boss. Really create a passion piece that blows your readers away.

“Damn you, Cas.”

Your friend grinned brightly on her end. Knowing she had gotten through to you, in the way only she could.

“Go, Go and shine on for both of us my little star!” She exclaimed blowing a kiss to the phone screen. “Now me and my handsome fiancé are going to go get dinner. Make me proud mama.”

With newfound fervor you turned on your laptop, the screen flickering to life as you placed an order for Chinese food. Extra lo mein and crab Rangoon to assist with your brain storming.

Fingers zoomed across your opened word document, typing up juicy question after question. This time would be different, you could feel it.

Billy groaned into his pillow, running his fingers through his mussed locks. Convinced that sleep would evade him but instead he had passed out and slept better than he had in years.

Turning over in his large bed, the image of the girl from the club seared into his mind. The smell of her skin, the way her hair lay framing her face, how those wide eyes had watched his every move.

The way her blood tasted.

The mid-afternoon light shone in his eyes, forcing him to cover his face with his hand to block the…sun.

Sunlight.

The closest thing to fear he could experience shot through his body. Pushing off to the complete other side of the bed, sheets tangling up around his legs.

Holding his hand up to his face and inspecting it carefully. No burns. Not even a red mark marring the pale skin. Allowing his fingertips to poke and prod along his face where the light had hit, coming up empty.

Not a scratch on him. Impossible.

Pushing off the covers and coming to stand on the razor edge of his blackout curtains. The menacing blade of sunlight danced across the carpet, to anyone else it appeared to be a bright clear day outside.

To a vampire that meant certain death. To be caught in the sunlight and burned alive before you even had a chance to escape to the shadows.

Vampires experienced fear less and less as they aged. Soon the only fear that remained was the sun.

Thankfully Billy ran a company and when you’re in charge you get to make meetings and social events whenever you damn well pleased.

Swallowing the anxiety rising like bile in the back of his throat, Billy stuck his hand out tentatively. Inch by inch moving towards the ray of light.

Then he watched as his fingers touched the beam. It flickered over his skin harmlessly. His palm turned this way and that, marveling at this new quandary.

It had been over fifty years since sunlight had touched his skin. Feeling a bit braver he stuck his arm into the light. Then the front of his chest.

Nothing.

Curiosity conquered the fear and he tore open the curtains, letting them fall wide and drenching the room in bright yellow light.

And for the first time in just under a century Billy stood in the light of day. Looking out at the city. His city.

Basking in the warmth on his skin. Admiring how the skyscrapers glowed and glittered in the brightness. Looking down at himself. Bare, save for a pair of black boxers, looking at his form in daylight.

A knock at his bedroom door was the only thing that broke his concentration on the skyline around him.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Russo?” His assistant, Marcus.

“Come in.” He’d never usually say that, but today, today was different.

Marcus walked in, a towering stack of folders balanced in his hands. Two cell phones in his pocket, a lanyard hung around his neck, and a laptop case draped over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry sir, I know you never want to be bothered at this time…I wasn’t gonna knock, but your secretary said some of these documents needed looked at immediately.”

The young man continued on musing about some meetings he had scheduled that night, intermittently apologizing for the intrusion. Billy couldn’t help but realize that Marcus barely registered that Billy was standing in the sun before him.

Because of course he wouldn’t understand. No one knew what he was. Why would it be weird to see your boss standing before the open window in the light?

The man prattled on about something else but Billy only turned back to gaze at the city. Why was he unharmed? Why was he able to do this?

He examined his hand once more, watching the illuminated dust fall around it before asking,

“Will that be all?”

“Yes, sir.” Marcus hoisted the pile back into his arms, giving a somewhat silly bow type move as he backed out of the room. He was a good kid. Very green, but good.

He had a certain affection for the younger man. Maybe he reminded Billy of what he’d been like before he became so jaded in his years.

Not wanting to move from where he stood, but eventually strolling over to the table with his itinerary for the day…well night rather, on it.

All the usual things and an interview that evening at 9 pm. Wonderful. He hated interviews.

It took exactly 4 hours before whatever magical protection had fallen over Billy to disappear. It was then that he’d felt the tell tale burning and searing pain wrap around his body from the sunlight.

Hissing and pulling back, nearly knocking the table over with him. His coffee cup spilled onto the ground, coating a few documents that would need printed again.

He had pulled his table over in front of the windows to work, tying back the curtains for the first time ever and letting the vibrant yellows and oranges coat the room as he worked.

Typing away in his laptop, answering phone calls, he even had a brief meeting on zoom so people could see his face in the light. Maybe these last years had been a horrible hallucination and he was still human after all?

Maybe the sleepless days and endless nights, the death and destruction of all he knew or cared about wasn’t real. He had been asleep and dreaming awful vivid dreams of needing blood to sustain himself.

Toppling backwards and landing on his rear in the shadowed area of his room. Bringing a hand to his face and seeing red blisters, already beginning to heal but prevalent nonetheless.

His time in the sun had ended. Why did he feel so…terrible? Anguish. That was the word. A longing for something he swore he’d forgotten.

To feel the heat on his cheeks and savor the warmth that had begun to feel like a far off dream.

He sat dumbfounded for another minute, hearing a buzzing coming from his phone. A reminder for his next appointment.

The stupid device still lay on the table completely covered in daylight,

Well almost. The sun was setting.

Billy watched from the side, hidden safely in the darkness as the sun slowly fell below the skyline and his room was once again cloaked in darkness.

Safely walking over to his phone and typing in his passcode. Pausing to look out over New York once more.

This was the sight he had become so familiar with. The buildings no longer glimmered, but fell muted.

They shine in their own way at night, the moon and stars could be dazzling and bright but it would never be day.

His phone beeped again. Right. His interview. Deciding to ignore the spilled coffee and messed papers, choosing to attend to those things later and get this stupid thing over with.

Adjusting his suit collar and tightening his tie in the elevator, watching the numbers light up as he ascended to the floor where his office resided. With a delicate ping the metal doors opened and he was greeted by his secretary, Jess.

“Your 9pm is already in the conference room.” She noted, passing a notebook to him and another stack of papers.

There was always something.

“Thank you. This will be quick.” He strode off down the hall and turned right pushing the frosted glass door open.

Only to come face to face with the girl from the club.

158 notes · View notes

therenlover · 7 months

Text

Slain (Vampire Hunter!Helmut Zemo/Vampire!Reader)

Chapter One: No Compasses, No Signs

Synopsis: The world undergoes change. Helmut Zemo finds new residence and perspective on his journey for revenge.

Tags: Vampire!AU, Vampire Hunter!Helmut Zemo, Slow Burn, Blood Drinking, Manipulation, Everyone Is Morally Grey, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Rating: E (+18) For Later Chapters, Minors DNI

Warnings: Mild Gore, Minor Mentions of Child Death

Word Count: 9,900~

--------------

Her lips were a breath away from his neck, fangs bared, when his weapon found purchase in her heart. She settled there a while, leaning closer into him and the great bolt of wood that sat between them. He stilled as she did.

One last shuddering breath escaped her lips. “Thank you, Helmut,” It was more than that, though. A confession of love hid itself within her words.

Helmut grimaced. Not this. Not now.

Before there was even a moment to reconsider, he wrenched the stake free and brought it down again, and again, and again, and again… Better to make sure the job gets done than leave her to suffer.

He walked from that room into the daylight an untethered man. The hunt was just beginning, though.

Every inch of the floor sat soaked red in his wake.

———

Sokovia was always most beautiful in the autumn.

It was a timeless place, or at least that’s what all the brochures had said. After spending the morning exploring old-growth forests or quaint villages, a three-hour car ride could take you straight into the city, filled with modern Sokovian culture and art. The capital city of Novi Grad was bursting at the seams with theaters, galleries, museums, historical districts, and Michelin-rated restaurants serving farm-to-table cuisine: anything you craved on an international vacation, you could find it there. Students the world over chose the Sokovian National University over all others across Europe and the globe for its arts department. People thrived there.

At least they had.

Now the theaters that still stood sat empty, never to play another film or host another symphony. Museums were looted, restaurants burned, and the university, with a campus several hundred years old, turned to dust as Novi Grad disappeared off the map forever. The bricks that had once built a nation came crumbling down in one final, fatal blow. In the span of one night, the history of the whole country was lost forever.

Some things still remained, though; things older than even Sokovia had been.

Helmut Zemo just had to find them.

There was no map to follow towards his prize. There had been once, an ancient thing that sat rolled up tight in a glass case on his father’s desk for all his life. It had been there, untouched, in every memory Helmut had of that office. He imagined his father and grandfather had similar memories there, looking up at the very same desk and pondering the stiff, crumbling parchment above. Not anymore, though. There would be no more young Zemos to gaze up at that sturdy oak desk. It had been found crushed beneath the rubble of their ancestral home.

In fact, there wouldn’t be any more young Zemos at all.

Carl had been found crushed in that rubble too.

It was better that way. He had met a nobler fate than most Sokovian citizens had. Still…

Sometimes it was better not to dwell on things like that.

Helmut’s father hadn’t had much time to teach him the ways of the family before his passing, but some things came with time and the rest could be gleaned from superstition.

Silver, for example, was plentiful across their vast collection of heirlooms. Those trinkets had become incredibly useful to melt down for bullets and crossbow bolts when he started to hunt. Much more helpful, though, was the fact that the furniture in their homes was often made of fine wood, and some of those handcrafted bedposts and coat racks, when twisted just so and pulled at the socket, would reveal a perfectly sharpened end hidden within.

Those stakes had come in handy.

And even if there hadn’t been any childhood lessons on how to slaughter a creature soundlessly in the darkness of the night, Helmut had learned plenty about that in the Sokovian special forces.

After months of little revelations, his preparations were long past done. Now the only thing left to do was follow his father’s footsteps.

Surviving the journey was a secondary priority.

Helmut didn’t need his family’s map to know exactly where to seek the first of his quarries. He had heard tales of her for his whole life in nursery rhymes and whispered childhood stories.

Women, children, and wandering folk with pure hearts couldn’t be led astray, but if a man with a guilty mind followed the Behnit River, he might just get lost. Thankfully, Helmut had that part covered. Once lost, the poor soul would trek through the winding Sokovian mountain passes, traveling far beyond the shadow of Mount Wundagore until he came across a forest of fog. If the man wandered the forest long enough, evading the great beasts that lurked there, he would find the castle of the Grey Lady.

Anyone foolish enough to seek her there would see the face of death.

Now, Helmut Zemo was not afraid of death. He had been intimately acquainted with it from birth as had twelve generations before him. Ever since his father’s head arrived home on the morning of his eighteenth birthday, shipped neatly in an ice-packed crate and wrapped with a red ribbon, the abyss was attached to him like a lover. Not even his wife or child could escape that cruel mistress’s clutches. Without anything left to lose, Helmut found himself in only death’s company.

Even now, as he wandered the abandoned villages and barren fields of the country he once called home in search of the Grey Lady, he spent his time slaughtering the last stragglers of Ultron’s army and putting any live victims out of their misery before they turned. Neither tended to last long once they were starved, but a few stubborn bastards held on. He liked to think of it as a mercy when he drove his stake through their skulls.

Death walked beside him like a friend, and Helmut didn’t fear his friends.

They feared him.

That suited him just fine.

To be fair, not everything was bad here. The Behnit flowed through fields of flowers and fruiting trees where all manner of soft, warm, innocent creatures slept, untouched by the horrors of modern civilization. Helmut slept among them unnoticed. He sustained himself off of their sacrificial charity.

Another silver lining: the longer he traveled along the riverbank the less it seemed to rain, which was appreciated. His coat kept him warm and the stars kept him company. The autumn leaves seemed just as beautiful as they were advertised to be in the travel brochures he used to wipe his ass on the trail.

He had pitched his tent for the night in a cluster of boulders by the pebbled shore. The greatest of the stones were still jagged from where a slowly dying glacier rended the earth and left a river its wake. Still, they were softened somewhat by moss and time.

When Helmut woke that morning, emerging from the boulder’s shadows, the once open field that had surrounded the river the night before had been replaced with more trees than could be counted. Thick morning fog rolled in from the water’s edge. Visibility was at almost zero. There were just trees and trees and trees and nothing.

It was exactly as he thought it would be.

So he packed up his tent, tucked it away in his bag, and freed his wicked, silver blade from its holster- another heirloom coming in handy. Its weight rested naturally in his hand. Then, he walked on.

Thus began the first leg of Helmut Zemo’s journey towards revenge.

———

Black blood splattered against the cobbles as my ringed fingers slammed into the younger man’s cheekbone again.

It pooled in the stones’ creases; a thick, stinking ichor that clung to my jewelry and my skin as it continued to dribble down from his face and body. I couldn’t help but lick a stray droplet from my lips.

He wasn’t quite broken yet. It wouldn’t take much longer, though. My hunger could wait until then.

The pathetic creature stood his ground in the corner of the darkened stable as his eyes darted about to search for an escape route.

There were none. I had made sure of that. There was only me and the sturdy walls behind him. Nowhere to go but down.

As expected, he sunk to his knees after just one more sharp hit to the cheek.

I allowed my hand to linger for a moment. It may have been cruel, but I didn’t care to think too much about it. “Are you ready to tell me now?”

His red eyes glinted with tears. Slowly, he nodded.

“What is your name,” I asked.

“Pietro,”

“Pietro,” I repeated the word on my ancient tongue, feeling each syllable roll over the muscle. A strong name. Sokovian. I brought myself down to his level, resting on the balls of my feet before him. My fingers danced along his skin. “How did you receive the gift?”

“Please, I don’t kn-”

His voice shuddered and stalled as one of my pointed nails slowly began to dig into the cold meat of his cheek and more sticky blackness coated my fingers.

I smiled right through it despite the growing unease in my stomach. Maybe a gentle hand would be more helpful…

“You do know, Pietro, even if you don’t think you do. Don’t you want to tell me? To get this over with?” My voice was sickly sweet. The dank stall, once reeking of stale piss and rot, began to match my cloying tone. The air grew thick with a dizzying perfume and Pietro’s stiff posture softened at the first breath of it. All at once his eyes swam with not fear, but relief. He wanted to make me happy now. Nothing would make him feel better than following my command. It almost made me want to vomit more, if I were capable of it.

The words came soft and dreamlike from his trembling mouth. “Novi Grad, at the university. My friend was a student. We were walking back from the bars to meet my sister and a man was waiting in the alley… oh god. No.” Pietro shook his head. His pulse began to speed. “I ate him. I ate Paul. The man attacked us and Paul tried to run and I- I ate him!”

His story was sad but unhelpful.

My voice stayed even despite his hyperventilation. It was best to keep him calm for both our sakes. “Who changed you, Pietro? Who was that man?”

The air grew heavy around us both, blanketing him in warmth and pleasant feelings from all sides. It was calm. It was safe. It was all a deception.

Pietro leaned into my touch like a young, blind animal searching for his mother and I hated to admit it stirred something more in me than nausea. Whatever it had awoken, and I didn’t care to find out, it was bringing out my mercy. Death no longer waited for him at the first wrong move. I sat quietly at his side, smearing dark blood across his hair as I stroked it without meaning to; a small comfort. Absent tears dripped from his empty eyes.

After a long while, Pietro decided he was ready to speak again.

“He said he was a friend of Stark… that he would change the world,”

My voice came in a low sigh. “Starks always think they will,”

I had known. Even if I hadn’t been absolutely certain, it was hard to ignore the sinking feeling his scent brought on. If I wasn’t in so much denial I could have guessed as much the second even a drop of Pietro’s blood hit my lips. He was of my own flesh in a way, however diluted by distance and time. I had tasted it in him. There was a flavor only attributable to myself under his chemical bitterness and the musk of wet dog.

Slowly, I let my hand slip away from his face and stood, kicking at a pile of rotting straw on my way up.

Pietro drooped further into the corner. His sandy hair covered enough of his face that I couldn’t tell if he was still crying or not. “I was just so hungry,” he breathed, “I couldn’t even think, I just kept eating them. All of them. Anyone I could catch. I was just… so hungry,”

“Are you still hungry,” I asked.

The stable went silent.

He nodded. “I’m starving,”

It was a huge risk, and a stupid one too. I hadn’t taken on a familiar since the 1800’s. It had been much longer than that since I’d created a thrall or spawn, and this… this was much more complex in new and different ways. He was not mine, even if he shared traces of my disease in his blood. Whatever hybrid monstrosity he was—I was almost certain he contained something other than the vampiric curse I bore—it meant he could not be controlled by force as a young spawn could. Pietro would instead need to be tamed to be trusted, much like the legacies of wolves that dwelled alongside me in my woods.

Pietro didn’t look particularly defiant, though. Keeping him leashed to my side couldn’t be that difficult. Besides, the idea of having some company wasn’t a completely unpleasant thought.

In fact, I rather liked it.

I approached him again like I would have approached a wounded animal, undoing button after button on the sleeve of my coat and exposing the smooth flesh of my forearm. It was an offering. An olive branch. He swallowed hard.

“I will not give you this gift lightly Pietro but I am in a particularly giving mood. You only need to answer one more question, and this can all be over. Do you wish to pay penance for your hunger? Or do you wish to die?”

His body trembled as the pungent reek of fear took over the room once again. My glamour had worn off well before. It was only fair to let him make this choice with all of his mind in his own hands. “What are you doing?” He asked. His accent trembled on every syllable.

“I’m offering you a choice,” I replied. “You weren’t given the luxury of choosing what you have become, but now you can choose what you do with it. We’re similar, you and I. We’ve made mistakes. I know from firsthand experience that one needs to learn to control this curse or die before it kills them in the ways that matter, and you don’t look dead to me. At least, not yet. So what would you prefer, Pietro? How does this end?”

Pietro gulped. His shaking hands were fisted in the soft cotton of his dirty AC/DC t-shirt. “I don’t want to die,”

My face relaxed into a soft smile. That would do just fine.

“Then drink,”

He attacked my wrist like a mad dog. It didn’t even feel like a pinch as his teeth ripped into my skin.

Cool, red blood flooded his mouth in an unholy communion, and, in that moment, I could have been his god.

Pietro ate like an animal.

It was clear that nobody had guided him when he was created. No one had sat at his side as he fed for the first time, showing him just where to put his teeth or how to keep things from getting messy. Of course he’d had to kill to eat. There were no lessons on where the major veins and arteries lay: which ones were deadly, which could be pierced and healed, how to heal them… It was a damn shame. He could have been so much more than an animal.

Now, blood splashed wildly from his mouth as he tried to swallow as much as he could, ripping with his new, sharp molars to try to coax more viscera into his throat. I pitied his lack of understanding. He could barely feed himself, even off of my near-endless supply.

That being said, his desperation was almost cute.

He drank his fill of me until his eyes glazed over. As a fed man, he was flushed with life again, breathing deeply and gaining color in his pallid complexion with every breath. From the looks of it, a few more hours without a meal would’ve killed him before I could. When he finally detached from my wrist there wasn’t a hint of guilt or shame or fear in his eyes. Instead, they reflected pure satiation into the darkness. His look promised gratitude. Servitude.

I released a cold huff of breath into the air. “Full?”

Pietro replied shortly, wiping his mouth with the butt of his palm. “Yeah, much better,”

“Good,”

His eyes darted to the wound he’d left. “Are you ok?” He asked. For all of his previous boldness, he now refused to meet my eyes.

It didn’t matter much to me, but I shrugged, examining the previously mangled flesh. “No harm done.”

Pietro gaped at the improvement. My skin was already knitting itself back together, though it was working a bit slower than usual. I needed to feed soon myself.

Strong with a fresh supply, his pulse beat hard enough in his jugular that I could watch it pulse from half a meter away. More thoughts sparked behind my eyes.

Well… it couldn’t hurt.

I needed far less than he did to keep myself running. It would only take one bite. One big mouthful. One swallow. I had given him far more than that, so it shouldn’t leave him wanting in the least.

“Would you do me a favor, Pietro?” Using his name was a manipulation. The air grew thick again with the scent of pear blossoms and juicy, dripping stone fruits. “The first step towards controlling your new form,”

“Anything,”

The graphic on his t-shirt was soaked with blood and bits of ripped vein.

“Give me your neck,”

It wasn’t a question. Instead, I found myself demanding access to him.

The worst part was he followed me blindly, even with his own understanding of what it meant to feed. Pietro tilted his chin to the sky as if he might begin to wail at the moon and waited. Not a muscle moved as he waited for brutality.

I didn’t quite know what to do with him anymore. He was filled with too many unexpected surprises.

This man, barely more than a boy, was an abomination, a scientific marvel, living and dead all at once. He never should have been thrust into his creation, but abomination or not he would satiate the hunger that gnawed at every cell in my body better than any other source of blood at my disposal. His blood, however tainted, was warm beneath his skin. It called to me like the predator I was made to be.

As I moved in for the bite, though, his eyes met mine again despite the obvious effort he was taking to close them and imagine he was anywhere else. I found a new terror overwhelming him there. Something even more ancient than I was sat deep in the dilated pits of his pupils, like a pig finally understanding his purpose as the axe began to drop. I had seen it more times than I wanted to count: The looks they gave when it was too late to squeal or run. Fear, understanding, and acceptance of the end. It was the place they went when there was nowhere left to go as they waited for the slaughter. I could stomach it in animals, a needed sacrifice to sustain myself, but to see it in the eyes of one so much like me, his eyelashes wet with blood and tears… I saw my own face looking back at me.

Slowly, deliberately, I guided his head back to its front-facing position, patting his unscathed cheek with a cool but soft hand. “You passed the test, now go to the house. Find somewhere comfortable. I’ll meet you there,”

I wasn’t that hungry anyways.

Pietro sat still for a moment, eyes shifting warily from wall to wall, but as soon as he realized there were no more instructions to wait for he scrambled to his feet, bolting from the stables almost on his hands and knees until he managed to keep his balance. In a moment’s time, he was shoving his way out the door. Every few seconds, though, he would look back at me until he couldn’t manage to keep me in his sights.

He still reeked of fear.

Good. It was best for him to fear me. I would rather keep him in line with fear than with pain, and we weren’t here to make friends. Things would be better this way.

Brushing wet straw from the thick leather of my day pants, I rose to follow, leaving the bloody stall behind me. I only paused long enough to spare a look towards the piles of rotting, ichorous bodies packed into the adjacent stalls from the months and weeks before. It would need to be dealt with eventually, but not tonight. I continued into the gloom, locking the door to the stables on my way out.

There was more important work to do.

———

Pietro adapted to my solitary life far better than I could’ve expected him to.

He mostly kept himself entertained, never lingering too long in my presence, not that he should want to. There was very little of mutual interest between the two of us anyway outside of mealtimes. Still, I kept a close eye on him, from a distance of course.

The garden had become his main refuge, and that suited me just fine. It had gone neglected for a while anyway. Having a hobby would help him adapt to his new life more smoothly, and hey, a little uninformed TLC at his hands couldn’t possibly hurt the plants that had already survived generations' worth of being harvested but otherwise ignored.

When he wasn’t scrounging around the loamy dirt, Pietro spent his days patrolling the grounds. He had probably seen more of the expansive property in the past weeks than I had in the past decade. It was a stark reminder of what a homebody I’d become in the past hundred years.

Every night, when the gardening and patrolling was done, he would trot back to his seat at the dinner table, right beside my own at the head, and share his informal report on the events of his day. Once it had been news of the wolves he’d befriended, then a broken fountain that needed repair, then a deer caught in a fence. I figured this was his way of earning his keep, even if I had never asked him to. I had barely done more than feed and house him since his arrival. No progress had been made on controlling his power. His proverbial leash grew longer each day I refused to put in the time (and effort) to discipline him.

It would be so easy for him to slip away

I had no more control over him than I did over the weather. If he truly wanted to, Pietro could have run off into the mist the second I let him out of that stable, escaping to whatever fate awaited him outside the bubble of my protection. There was no glamour, no psychic energy compelling him to stay. It would be as easy as him making the choice and enacting a plan.

Still, he came back each night like a hound with a rabbit in his teeth, sometimes literally. We shared the details of his day over light, meaningless conversations each dinner time until he fed from my wrist once more and shuffled off to rest.

Despite everything, the time I spent with Pietro in the evenings was the most fun I’d had in ages.

Not that I’d ever admit that. There was still a certain air of decorum and fear-based respect that hung between the two of us and I refused to bridge the gap. He was my ward, after all. Or… manservant? No, he didn’t do enough around the interior of our home to warrant the title. Housemate indirectly threatened with death upon his departure? Whatever. The semantics of what he was to me were unimportant. What he wasn’t was a friend or equal. I lorded above him in every way: age, knowledge, sheer supernatural power. It wouldn’t do either of us any good to pretend we were closer than tentative acquaintances.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t privately relish in the meals we shared, though, and the brief bits of humanity he coaxed out of me somehow with his presence. Our quiet companionship would perfectly toe the line to keep him respectful but less fearful. At least, I hoped so.

It would be painfully miserable to be alone again now that I’d remembered what it was like not to be.

My own days hadn’t changed much, with the exception of my evening meals. Dawn was spent in the animal pens. I fed and watered the pigs and chickens and lambs before taking their offerings: the sheep were sheared on seasonal rotation, the chickens laid in the mornings, and every once in a while, a pig would grow round and tired enough to be culled. Mostly I would toss anything slaughtered and drained to the wolves to keep them happy, but on occasion, I’d leave with a lamb of my own to quench my unending thirst. Not often these days. Instead, I supplemented my diet with wine in the hopes that, eventually, I could overcome my hunger entirely. It hadn’t happened yet. I hadn’t given up hope.

Once the beasts were tended, the rest of the day was spent curled up in one nook or another attempting to pass the hours with whatever useless activity was available. If I stayed put too long, I had learned my flesh would begin to petrify, so I forced myself into monotonous, limited activities each day. Recently that meant embroidery, which made its way into the rotation once every few decades. Before that, I’d organized the library alphabetically by the author’s names (before it had been by book title), taken up oil painting until I ran out of paint, and spent a small stint attempting to design my own clothes for the hundredth time. It turned out as well as it always had. That was to say, every single design was awful and/or impossible to sew with the materials at my disposal. Even the garden Pietro loved so much had once been a time-sink to keep me from turning to stone. After almost a thousand years, though, nothing kept my attention long.

Nothing new was left to discover here. On rare occasions, a new hobby would arrive on the body of an interloper, like the Game Boy with its drained batteries that sat next to my bed, but even those didn’t take long to break or lose their novelty.

Besides, visitors had become a rarity as soon as cars and highways came into fashion.

Who would spend their days wandering down old forest paths when they could take their new vehicle down a well-mapped road instead? It was quicker, cheaper, safer- and then came the airplanes and the busses and the high-speed rails. By my nine-hundred and eighty-seventh year of immortal life, I was lucky to get a lost hiker at my door once or twice a year that the wolves didn’t shred before I found them.

Things changed for a bit after the world shook. Suddenly, it seemed as though there was a wave of new bodies wandering the wood every dusk and dawn. No companionship could be found with those maddened newborn creatures. They were like only one man-made monster I had ever witnessed, almost seventy-five years before, but they were mindless with the endless tug of their starvation, an unprecedented side effect of their disease. Always so hungry. Few retained any scraps of humanity by the time they made it to me, sunburnt and emaciated and so very confused.

After a while, though, even they became rare. It was as if they had all been sent in a great burst before whatever event that bore them was over. The whole situation concerned me. I wondered if they weren’t coming to me anymore, where were they going? There must have been more of them than the ones who had come to my door. If this hadn’t been an attack on my home, organized to finally rid me of my life, why were they created? And if so many had made it as far as my castle, what had become of Sokovia? I feared I would never get an answer.

Pietro was the last.

I couldn’t have known it when I spared him, but no more followed in his footsteps. He himself had arrived almost a month after the young man who came before, and he had taken a few weeks to find me after the one before him. Then, after Pietro, there was nothing. If he hadn’t been spared, I would never have known of Ultron, or the children he sired to prove himself to Stark, or the bomb Stark had dropped to rid the world of the vampiric plague that would descend upon it.

Maybe it was the renewed scarcity that made me pause when I first saw him stumbling through the bushes. That split second of indecision before I gutted him on sight, was it curiosity or loneliness? Or was it luck? Whatever it was, and I didn’t care to dig too deeply into any of my feelings on the matter, I was glad for it.

The pair of us kept each other company. Fog rolled in each morning and the moon glowed full each night and the world kept turning, but things were new now. The same china and linen and dining table I had stared at for hundreds of years seemed to have new detail in it every day.

We had peace.

Until the morning Pietro came wailing through the study doors with that mangled wolf in his arms.

“There’s a man!” He gasped, blood running down his front and into the deep auburn of the rug at his feet. The poor thing was long dead. From a few feet away I could tell it had gone quickly to whatever had felled it. Even still, Pietro’s eyes were wild with something more than fear at the sight of the corpse’s state. “He-“

I cut him off, rising from my chair. “Where,”

His eyes darted to the dripping gash in the wolf’s neck.

“The front walk,” he said, “I didn’t see much of him, just a shadow, but he’s armed with something bad, something that felt wrong. There are more dead too, too many to carry, but I thought she might make it. I thought I could fix her,” Pietro was babbling now, talking faster than he could even rationally think. It was evident that he had never seen a slaughter like this. At least, he had never seen a slaughter like this without a driving bloodlust that would drown out every thought other than hunger. A slaughter that wasn’t his own to make.

I crossed the room to him. “Watch the house,”

“But-”

My eyebrow raised. I was chillingly calm, tutting at him softly. “Do you think I am incapable of defending my own home?”

“No, no, but he’s just… I… how can I help you?”

Despite his fear, Pietro still so desperately wanted to do what was helpful. His moral compass was strong. I appreciated it. He was already making progress all on his own. I didn’t need him though, not for whatever awaited me in the woods. There were few people who had any knowledge of my location, and fewer still who would be able to enter and hold their own against my defenses. Knowing what I knew of Ultron, I was prepared for my feud with the Starks to come to an end. Besides, he would just be a liability, a clear weakness in my rock-solid strong persona. He was still too young.

Teeth bared, I let out a soft growl. “Like I said, watch the house. That is how you can help me, just in case someone else attempts to enter while I’m distracted,” I gestured towards the door into the greater hall outside. “Eat, then keep watch. I would only judge you if you wasted her body. If I need you, I’ll whistle,”

“How will I hear you from so far?”

“I have my ways,”

Without waiting for confirmation, I started my warpath towards the front of the house, leaving the sounds of sloppy tearing in my wake.

———

As soon as I was out the doors I could feel him at the end of the walk, but it wasn’t until he had broken the tree line, several hundred yards away, that he noticed me waiting for him.

Not a word was exchanged. That blurry body on the horizon shifted, reached back, postured, and- snap.

One soaring arrow cut through the air and found its target in my chest.

He wanted violence? I would give him violence. It had been so long since I had someone to toy with, someone who had the capability to even try to resist the toolbox of horrors that my nature had lent me. I grinned. This was a game, and I was a sore loser when my life laid on the line.

Time turned to mist in my grasp.

All at once, I was acutely aware of the bolt that had shredded through the shoulder of my coat. It stayed embedded there, the tip jutting out just below my shoulder blade, but the shaft sat too high, missing my heart by a significant margin. Stoney flesh burned all the way through the wound. When I tried to send a tendril of energy through the tunneled muscle, it fizzled out and died.

The damn tip was silvered.

This was a clever one; more than just another mindless, bloodthirsty drone in search of a throat to rip. This man had knowledge. He was a craftsman. A hunter.

My revenge awaited.

With a speed that defied the laws of the natural world, I greeted my opponent.

I moved with the wind. Every molecule of my body sang as I pulled them apart and brought them together at will, drifting over his shoulder in an amorphous cloud of smoke. Blood thrummed under his skin like thunder even if he could not actively comprehend my presence.

He was mortal.

I could feel the loose amalgam that made up my mouth almost watering at the sheer feeling of a human pulse so close to me, however slowed in the wake of my speed. Every bit of him was lean muscle, too, wrapped up in leather and military-issue kevlar. It would rip like butter under my predator’s teeth. He didn’t know that, though. In his mind, he was blissfully protected from the things that went bump in the night.

A quick scan with the looser edges of my cloudy form revealed that, despite his silver weapons, he wore none of the metal on his person.

This man may have been a hunter, but he was also a fool. He wasn’t a Stark, either. No, he smelled wrong, not a note of wolfish musk surrounded him besides the stench of dead dog in his wake. A wild card, then. Or something I couldn’t quite recognize without my nose all put together.

Plum, perhaps.

A sword, silvered like his crossbow bolts, was strapped high on his hip, but it didn’t take much maneuvering to undo the clip and send the blade clattering to the ground. Next came the crossbow itself. Taking something from the man’s hands was a little trickier, but nothing was beyond my grasp, especially when I unleashed this power. Usually, it was kept close to my chest. It was a secret truth I couldn’t even burden myself to recognize. I was ancient. I was so much more than any living soul could be forced to comprehend, I was-

The seal on the crossbow caught my eye. A badger posed regal, gnawing on the snake in its dripping teeth. My snake. Their crest.

Oh.

The game had just become so much more fun.

I felt the air, bringing my nose together enough to sniff at it. I had to be certain. There could be no mistakes if it was who I knew it had to be. And it was: It was like a perfume I could never quite wash out, a song that always resided in the back of my head, as familiar as my own name after all of the years I had known it. Maybe, just maybe, I knew it better than my own scent.

He was a Zemo.

Twelve generations I had killed over that stupid attempt at a takeover to expand their barony. Twelve fathers of twelve sons, each more horrid and twisted than the last, had willingly walked into the lion’s den on the eve of their eldest son’s 18th year to fulfill their end of a bargain struck by the first of them all in the hope to spare their bloodline from total annihilation in my wake. One by one they sought me out of their own free will. Every time they believed they would improve on the failings of the last, finally besting me, but their pride was their fall. They were cocky and stupid enough to think they knew enough to defeat me.

Every single son had died for their gall.

They didn’t have to. If one had simply disobeyed or learned mercy, I would have let them go without a second thought. It wasn’t as if I could leave this forest to find them. Nothing compelled them besides their own hubris.

And now, the thirteenth was there to take his place at the grave.

This was wrong, though. An unshakeable feeling gripped my mind more than even my rage at the damned bloodline before me. Maybe not wrong, no, but not quite right either. He was far too young.

It wasn’t as if he looked exceedingly youthful. The man’s eyes held a certain wisdom that only came with time. I was sure that, if I were capable of seeing my own reflection clearly, it would be a trait we shared. His face showed age too. A thick but well-trimmed beard decorated his cheeks and chin, obscuring the thin line of his scowl. I spent what felt like hours memorizing those features— searching for hidden signs of age, of course, or other features that might give away his weaknesses.

The point wasn’t to admire him, though, or let his features become the focal point of my focus. This was not a man who had raised a man.

He had simply come too soon.

There was no reasonable explanation I could find to explain him birthing a blood son who had reached the age threshold to fulfill our bargain. To take a father from his child… the thought haunted me. Even with the acrid stench of death and dog permeating my home from all sides, with the culprit all but waiting for release in my hands, I couldn’t do it. My standards remained.

It just… wouldn’t do.

I let loose my tight grip on time, letting each shred of my body come together into its correct place like the snap of a fresh rubber band. It was always dizzying to find time’s proper flow again but I leaned into the exhilaration of my physical form’s newness. My voice escaped my lips- at last, my real lips. It was a bone-chilling whisper. To him, I seemed to appear at his back in an instant, traveling with the breeze that froze him.

“Next time, son of Heinrich, you’ll have to aim better than that,”

He went stiff at the feeling of my cold breath on his neck, like every hair on his body had stood at attention the second he became aware of my closeness. It was more than just a startle, though. That fear was genetic, bred into him by father and father and father before him. It was in every drop of blood that rushed to his face in my wake. He masked it as well as he could have. His expression remained schooled even as a freezing hand came up to brush against his neck. I knew better, though. I saw things humans could never dream of comprehending about each other.

Minutiae. Breath and pulse and scent and temperature. Predator senses.

“You were expecting me,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“And you weren’t expecting me,”

Zemo laughed, a bitter thing. “Perhaps not. None of the others have been quite so… fast,”

I tossed his crossbow aside. It landed in the nearby brush and shattered as it slammed against the ground. My own strength was unknown to me. I could only pretend it had been intended. “Your father should have taught you better than this. This is a disappointment,”

“He might have,” he said, “but he didn’t live long enough. So, I believe you are to blame for his inability to mentor me in the rules of your little game.

My pulse raced even as my mind paused. His dark eyes took in the surroundings, surely searching for something to get him out of my grasp and back into the upper hand. Little did he know that uncertainly was creeping below my skin.

Men. They were all the same. They lacked the sight.

“You’re free to believe that if you choose,” I replied, “but eighteen years was plenty of time for the rest of them. If it was not enough for you, well, I can only call that greed. Of thirteen men, you are only the second to lose your weapon before even crossing my threshold. That and the fact that the first was not your father, it seems, means it is your father’s failing that he did not pass on the wisdom he had learned.”

“How long did he last?”

“He lasted more than six hours of combat before I gutted him. It’s a shame you couldn’t do the same. At this rate, you won’t survive the hour. What a bore,” Slowly, and without a wince despite the burning at my fingertips, I snapped off the end of the bolt in my shoulder and placed the silvered tip in my pocket, patting it softly through the fabric once it settled at the bottom. Extracting the rest of the solid metal rod was an easy feat from there. His eyes remained trained on me over his shoulder as it joined his bow on the ground.

Zemo, to his credit, mastered his fear beautifully.

His pulse had stabilized some, though its steady rhythm still rushed through my nostrils and into my dizzy mind like an intoxicating symphony. He was a cocktail of emotion inside his well-kept exterior. The scent of sudden horror was now morphing into surprise, perhaps even curiosity. His gaze only escaped mine to examine the blood dripping lazily from my shoulder to my feet.

“Confused?” I taunted.

He shook his head. “Not confused, no.”

“Then what are you?”

I wanted to know him. I wanted to rip the deepest secrets of his mind from his chest and devour them. I wanted to taste it. It would be so much sweeter if I didn’t have to take it, though. If it were given freely.

“Learning,” he replied.

It was my turn to be unprepared.

I stalked around him, coming to face him head-on, and he held my gaze again. His pulse stayed steady despite the fact that the space between us was near nonexistent, as if he thought of himself as a predator too, just like me. Still, those damn eyes examined me like some sort of experiment, not like prey. Questions sat unsaid between us in the fog.

What makes you different? What makes you special? What makes you tick?

Stars above, he made it so easy. It was impossible to keep from smiling just a little at the absurdity of it all as he took in the sight of my neck and the puckered scars that littered it. This was nothing like my dinners with Pietro. This was dangerous. Almost fun.

Everything I gave to him he shot right back at me in spades, almost as if he was toying with me too and deriving his own sick satisfaction from the electricity in the air. It reminded me a bit of the great bacchanals that had been thrown here in my youth, when the castle halls ran red with the blood of my victims, both unwitting and all too willing to die by my lips. I hadn’t been alone then. There were faces to entertain me around any corner. Even when the party ended and the bodies ran dry, my creator waited patiently for me in the bedroom as dawn broke each morning. It was horrifically, terribly, irredeemably fun. I wanted to forget it so badly that I almost had.

Now, though, the memories were fresh.

How long had it been since I’d really spoken to someone without their fear leaking from every pore? Since there had been someone to laugh with? To bounce off? To feed from?

My throat twitched shamefully at the thought.

Blood was a varied thing. No two feeds would ever taste exactly the same, even if they were almost interchangeably similar. Every emotion, every dietary choice, and every passing second spent aging would affect the profile as it hit my taste buds. Omnivorous or herbivorous animals tended to be brassy and harsh on the tongue, yet somehow watery. Overall, unfulfilling. Carnivores left me a bit more satisfied, but not much, and definitely not in terms of flavor. Other vampires were more substantial than animals, but bitter depending on their age. A young vampire tasted a bit like a berry that wasn’t quite ripe.

Humans, though… humans were uniquely human. There were no words to describe it. Mortals could not comprehend the kind of sensations that fresh human blood would fill me with enough to create the vocabulary to depict it properly. Some were savory, some were sweet; some were stomach-churning and heavy and some lighter than water on the tongue. They were ephemeral. Unique. Devastatingly addictive.

There was one unchanging fact about the taste of blood, though, that haunted my waking dreams on my worst nights.

However disgusting they had been in life, every Zemo had been orgasmically delicious in death from the very first.

I resisted the urge to unleash my glamour and drain him dry right there and then heroically. I was not that woman anymore. I had to promise myself that, at least, to keep it all reined in. The last human I’d fed from had been his father and before that his grandfather. It would do me no good to give in to my basest urges which I had fought so hard to suppress. He would die with honor and dignity when it was his time, and it wasn’t.

Not yet.

So, instead of ripping his throat clean out, I dragged a nail down the column of Zemo’s neck, relishing in the gooseflesh that raised at my touch.

“Do you always play with your food?” He asked.

I shrugged, playing the persona he needed from me to keep his dignity. “Only with your family. It keeps me young,”

And suddenly, that little playful light in him died. I didn’t quite know what had set him off, or how, but it was as if a switch had been flipped on his mood.

“I would appreciate getting on with whatever this is, then, if you wouldn’t mind,” He hissed. Zemo took a sharp step forward, closing the space that lingered between us in one swift motion. My nail pressed dangerously close to his jugular. “I am not your toy, nor was my family. This little game you’ve played with us is finished. It’s long past time. No more sons,” his nose was almost brushing my own as he spoke. I could taste every lick of hate in his breath. “This ends here.”

Even now, at my mercy, he was spending his last moments protecting his son from meeting the same fate. Not even once had any of the other men who came before even mentioned them. Not even in passing.

For a moment, I almost let him go.

The first of the Zemos had deserved it. The second had almost deserved it more if such a thing were possible. The generations seemed to snowball through the decades like some sort of horrid disease. Each man had found their way through the warding around my forest, and that in and of itself was evidence of their crimes in my eyes. The weight of guilt in their hearts had guided them to me like the light of the north star. Once they’d arrived too, every man had only continued to prove themselves unworthy of life. Every time, I thought maybe I could impart a lesson.

Twelve men had failed to understand their own failings, though, and until they did, I had doomed them to pay the same price, over and over, in an unrelenting loop of loss.

But I was so tired.

So, so tired.

Who could say if they’d ever learn? The blood I spilled might have taught them nothing at all, and it might never teach them. How many years would I spend alone, haunting the halls of an empty castle, waiting for them to learn?

Always starving.

Always hurting.

Even the guilt was gone. It was just…

Emptiness.

Deep down, I had to wonder if I was really doing it to teach them a lesson, or if I was just glad to have a warm meal and a conversation these days. When had it started to become less about them than it was about me and my own feelings?

Thirteen men. An unlucky number, but a prophetic one.

Maybe it was time to let go.

I took a deep breath and crossed my arms, letting my hand slip away from Zemo’s neck. “I have to admit, son of Heinrich, it takes a lot of nerve to demand anything of me,” I sighed, reluctant, “I’m impressed,”

He quirked up an eyebrow. “This sounds like the beginning of another game, vampire,”

“You might find out if you let me finish,”

Zemo stayed silent. I could almost hear the whispers daring to escape him as he licked his lips. Around us, the fog sat heavy and thick.

“As I was saying,” I cleared my throat and my stomach turned. When was the last time I’d been so nervous about something? When had I last felt anything at all? “You want to end the games? Fine. Lay this bare. Why are you here? Thirteenth son of Zemo, what brings you to me? Why risk your life, your youth, for this?”

I did not dare unleash my glamour to pry the truth out of him, nor did I need to. His words came easily from the very depths of his soul.

“Revenge,”

His eyes glossed over as he said the word. No longer was Zemo looking at me, though, even if his eyes were trained on my own. Instead, he was looking somewhere distant. A wrath that moments before had seemed so personally tailored against me and my existence now resided not within me, but far beyond me… Interesting

I could work with that.

The whole situation was incredibly delicate. One wrong move from me and he would be lunging for any remaining weapon in the vicinity. I walked the razor’s edge, the snake in Eden. But would he bite?

My voice came low like a prayer.

“Against who? Me?”

“Against all of the monsters in this world,” Something akin to madness pushed through the man’s demeanor. It smelled inky and burnt on the skin: a human crematorium. Loss. “The things that roam and kill without a second thought, bloodsuckers like you who thrive off the deaths of those around them. Mostly, though,” Zemo grimaced, “I want to put a silver bullet between the eyes of Tony Stark and every monstrosity he’s ever created,”

Tony. He had a son.

Despite the palpable tension in the air and the pang of shock that hit me at the mention of Howard’s offspring, the wrong Stark, I shrugged my shoulders, keeping up my unbothered persona as long as I possibly could. Anything to keep this moving forward. Anything to keep him talking and not attacking. Any excuse to keep him alive just a few minutes more. “You aren’t the first person to wish for a Stark’s demise,”

He stilled. “Maybe, but I will be the last,”

“What makes you so certain that you will succeed where even I have failed?”

“He killed my wife and son,”

After all the years I’d spent surviving off of the sacrifices of others, I had thought my heart was stone. That there was nothing left, just petrified muscle and dust. Somehow, though, I could feel it thump and ache for him. Ache for his wife, his child. All at once his early arrival made all the sense in the world.

There would be no eighteenth birthday to wait for.

No more sons, he’d said. Not now, not ever.

My voice shook ever so slightly in the mist. “I’m sorry for your loss,”

Zemo shook his head. Greasy, unkempt hair fell over his eyes, shading them, hiding them away from my prying gaze. “You say that now, and yet you were the one who killed my father,”

Touche.

Uncomfortable emptiness filled the air. Neither one of us made a move to continue the banter.

It would be as easy as breathing for me to put him out of his misery. I could drink my fill of him and forget. After a few decades, my imagination would stop being haunted by the chubby cheeks of a boy who would never find a calling, fall in love, or have chubby-cheeked babies of his own. Zemo could have destroyed me too, in that moment, just as easily as I could have destroyed him. He couldn’t know it, but I would have let him. It would be as easy as lunging for his unbroken sword and ending it all. I wouldn’t dodge. I wouldn’t dare. Not when the guilt I had hidden away so well was finally rearing its ugly face.

This one felt different. He was like nothing I’d encountered in all of my long, miserable years of life. Maybe he was even more needed than Pietro had been.

If I were to end my empty existence at his hand, I could die happily.

The idea came clear.

It had been foggy before, a half-assed imagining. I could overpower him, control his fragile mortal mind, and keep him tucked away somewhere where I could covet the feeling of his resistance against me, all to ease the endless, aching loneliness I still felt every day. He didn’t need to come willingly. Just like Pietro, I could break him to my will. If I could do it to another vampire, how hard could a stubborn mortal be?

Now, though, I saw a different path through the darkness. It was a terrible idea. Self-destructive. Awful.

The worst part? It might just work.

“Howard Stark stole something from me too, once”

Zemo scoffed in disgust. “Your wealth?”

“No, my blood,”

My deepest secrets flew plainly from my lips like they were nothing more than facts. We lapsed into momentary silence once again.

“So those creatures in the countryside…”

“Are a part of me, yes,” I mindlessly fiddled with the hem of my coat pocket, feeling the weight and heat of the silver within. “I have regretted trusting him every day for the last seventy-two years,”

Zemo stepped back and I let go of the breath I’d been holding for what felt like decades. Finally, someone else knew. The jig was up. In its wake, he seemed pensive. Thoughtful. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he seemed lonely too.

This mess was my fault, that much was plain. I hadn’t set foot outside of this damned forest since 1943 and yet, somehow, the choices I had made back then had led to the destruction of my mother country. No amount of solitude could pay the penance I owed for the crimes I had committed now, no matter how desperately I had tried.

The worst of it all was that so much was still unknown. If so many of those hybrid spawn had made it here to my home, how many more had ended up elsewhere? Was it just Sokovia that was overwhelmed by them? Who made it out? How many women and children had died at the hands of my own blood?

I rid my head of the poisonous memories as best as I could, shoving down the growing pool of guilt and regret that had been threatening to boil over for longer than I thought I could have swallowed.

One thousand years of death was finally here for its vengeance, and it was fast approaching; finally catching up to me. It was poetic, though, for it to come from him.

“I am willing to listen to your proposal,” Zemo said. “Let’s get on with it,”

“Alright. I’m offering information about the Stark family; everything I know about their affliction, my affliction, their plans to use it, the weaknesses of the monsters that will stand in your way. Anything you want, anything I know from all of my years in this life, is yours for the taking,”

He replied plainly, eyes suspicious. “I won’t spare your life,”

“Did I ask you to?” I stepped towards him. We were nose to nose again. “You can’t kill me. It wouldn’t even take a second for me to snap your neck and leave you here to die in paralyzed agony—it would be so easy—but I’ve decided against it. I’ve already had my fun for far too long, so stay here and learn all you must know from me for as long as you’d like. If you ever manage to learn enough to kill me, we shall duel honorably as your forefathers did before you. Either you will die here a failure, or you will leave here with all of the information you need to become the deadliest hunter in history. Once that’s completed, your revenge will be all but guaranteed,”

Ever the skeptic, he tilted his head to the side. “But what do you gain from this? Why would you decide against getting rid of me before I become a threat?”

“Companionship, stimulation, absolution; take your pick,”

“A meal?”

“Not until you die. Not unless you ask,”

Stroking his beard, Zemo took a step back and looked me over with a discerning eye. He had examined me intensely before, but it was like a canine scoping out its prey. Now, though, he searched me for signs of verity, any reason to distrust the suspiciously beneficial deal I had all but laid at his feet. Around us, the world seemed to pause for him as it might have for me.

“As soon as I have the power to kill you, you’ll be dead,” he muttered.

And so my final deal was struck.

“I look forward to you trying,”

--------------

Thank you for reading! Once completed, the next chapter will be linked here.

This work has been crossposted to Ao3

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader #daniel brühl #fanfiction #fanfic #vampire au #vampire hunter helmut zemo #pietro maximoff #marvel x reader #x reader #marvel fanfiction

55 notes · View notes

soranatus · 8 months

Text

Midnight animals By IxpertishVela

#marvel comics #moon knight #marc spector #hunters moon #dr badr #yehya badr #tigra #greer nelson #greer grant #reese #reese the vampire #soldier #anthro #furry #au #animal au #midnight mission #fan art

61 notes · View notes

pinkthick · 8 months

Text

A sick vampire

Pairing: Vampire!Doctor Strange x Fem!Reader

Summary: Stephen comes home somehow late for your movie night and at first, you thought that Wong gave him extra chores and you were already thinking of ways to kill the Sorcerer Supreme, but Stephen finally arrived so everything was alright. Or so you thought. He had a little fever.

This is for @indoraptorgirlwind 🥹

The cozy apartament was illuminated by the soft glow of the television, casting dancing shadows across the walls. You have prepared a cozy movie night, complete with popcorn, a fluffy blanket and your favourite movie. The only thing that was missing was your husband.

Stephen promised to be home by 9 PM and it was already 10 PM. You knew he wasn’t on a mission, he just had some lessons today at Kamar-taj with some new students — and if you remembered correctly they were little kids — so you didn’t know why he wasn’t already here with you, on the couch, under your fluffy blanket. If Wong somehow gave him extra chores, you would probably kill him, especially since you told him you had the day off today and you would very much like to spend it with your husband.

Just then the crackling magic startled you and saw a very tired Stephen going through it. Well at least he wasn’t in his robes and he was in something more casual.

He didn’t even greet you. Rude. And he then sat down on the couch with his head in your lap, which alarmed you a little bit because he had a slightly disheveled apperance, which was unusual for him. His eyes were a bit darker than usual, and there was a faint sheen of sweat on his pale forehead.

“Hello to you too.” You said and delivered a little shove on his chest which made a warm smile appear on his face, his lips revealing the faintest hint of fangs as he spoke “Hey there.”

You raised an eyebrow at the vampire-sorcerer and placed a hand on his forehead “You're running a little warm. I didn't think vampires could get sick."

Stephen sighed, leaning into your touch. “I didn’t think that either, but Wong said we could so there’s that.” And you wrapped the cozy blanket around him too. Dork.

You took the remote from the coffee table and you glanced at Stephen quickly, who was positioned comfortably in your lap and with a soft smile, you pressed play, the movie’s opening scenes filling the room.

As the minutes passed, you were engrossed in the plot — however, you couldn’t help but notice that Stephen’s attention seemed to be drifting elsewhere. You felt his breathing grow slightly irregular against your thight, and a small frown creased your brown. Gently brushing your fingers through his salt and pepper hair — or oreo hair — you looked down at him, your concern evident “Stephen?” You whispered, your voice a soothing murmur.

His eyes remained closed, his expression serene, though there was a hint of strain in his features. He took a shallow breath, his response almost a whisper. “What?”

You bit your lip and wanted to push your bastard off your lap but didn’t. “Are you feeling okay?”

A faint smile ghosted across Stephen's lips, though it seemed to take effort. “Fine, marvelous even.” he said with sarcasm, his voice carrying a hint of discomfort.

“You’re a dick.” And your fingers instinctively brushed against his warm forehead. Well, he does have a fever alright.

You shifted carefully beneath him, allowing him to stretch out on the couch. You hit him with a pillow and he finally opened his eyes, which were glowing red. “Use it.” And Stephen scoffed but propped his head up as you traced your finger over his features.

Then you gently stood up and went to the kitchen to make him a compress. You found a towel and dampened it with cold water and you returned to the living room in record time. Stephen was still lying on the couch, his expression a mix of exhaustion and discomfort. With a small smile, you approached your husband and gently placed the compress on his forehead.

He let out a sigh of relief at the cool touch, his eyes fluttering closed. As you wanted to pull a way to go in the kitchen to get him a bag of blood from the refrigerator, you were caught off guard by his grip on your wrist. You looked down at him, only to find him pressing kisses against your skin, one after another.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips “What are you doing?” you asked, bemusement coloring your tone.

He paused, his lips hovering just above your wrist as he looked up at you through half-lidded eyes. "Just showing my appreciation," he murmured, his voice a soft, affectionate rasp.

“Yeah, well. Show your appreciation by getting better.” You replied, your fingers gently carding through his hair. A faint, playful glint lit up Stephen's eyes as he held your gaze. “I can show my appreciation by doing other fun things.”

Rolling your eyes with a mock sigh, you teased, "Please, settle down. I don’t want your germs all over me.”

Stephen let out a soft chuckle, the vulnerability he rarely displayed evident in his features. “Yeah, well—“ and a sneeze interrupted him.

“Bless you.” you replied softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, just above the compress. But Stephen sneezed again and you pulled back saying “I said I don’t want your germs.” But to your utter surprise, his form shifted and morphed into something so little. In just a matter of seconds, he changed into a small white bat with striking blue eyes. Okay, first of all, what the fuck? Second of all, weren’t bats supposed to be black or something?

Your heart raced a little bit as you started at the tiny creature before you. The bat blinked its luminous blue eyes, fluttering its wings slightly as if testing out its new form. It let out a series of high-pitched chirps, almost as if trying to communicate with you. Your gaze flickered between the bat and the place where Stephen had been lying moments ago. Your mind raced as you pieced together the situation. “Did this ever happen to you before?”

You carefully reached out a hand, offering it near the bat in a gesture of reassurance and Stephen crept closer, nuzzling against your fingers, almost seeking comfort.

Now that the small white bat was perched in your hand, you found yourself strokings Stephen’s fur with gentle fingers, your touch tender and soothing. The bat seemed to respond positively to your gestures, emitting soft chirps and nuzzling against your palm. It was an odd sight, yet you couldn't help but feel a strange mix of wonder and concern.

As you continued to stroke the bat's fur, your fingers ventured closer to its wings. It was clear that Stephen didn’t want your hands near them, but you started to stroke them and then Stephen became agitated. Of course you didn’t stop.

He started to chirp loud, as if he was scolding you. And then, the bat leaned forward and bit your finger, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make a point.

"Oh you little shit." You said, your surprise evident as you instinctively pulled your hand back. You looked down at your husband, a mixture of exasperation and amusement in your expression. "Oh, you're so sleeping on the couch tonight."

The bat seemed to huff in response, flapping its wings once more before settling down on your hand with what appeared to be an air of defiance. Y/N couldn't help but chuckle, your eyes softening as you regarded the transformed Stephen. "Alright, alright," you conceded, your voice gentle now. "I'll try to take this more seriously, I promise."

The bat's blue eyes met yours, and there was a hint of satisfaction in his gaze, as if he had won a small victory in making its point. Y/N carefully set the transformed Stephen down on the couch, gently arranging a blanket beneath him. As you got up to fetch something to help him with his current situation, you couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of it all.

You walked into the kitchen and after a brief search, you found a small bag of blood in the refrigerator, an emergency supply for Stephen's needs. You made it back to the living room quick and Stephen was already back in his human form. His expression etched with a frown that matched his evident annoyance. Y/N blinked for a moment “What’s with your face?" You questioned, your voice full of sarcasm.

He looked up at you, his gaze still tinged with frustration. "I can't believe you treated me like a pet," he muttered, his tone both sullen and playful.

Y/N chuckled softly, approaching him with the bag of blood in your hand. “You’re always my pet—“

“Fuck you.” He flipped you off and you settled down on his lap “I brought you blood.” you said as you offered him the bag. Stephen put his hands on your waist as he tried to kiss you, but you pulled back and he scoffed. No germs today, Satan.

“It’s not AB4 so shove it up your ass” his expression remained sour as he continued and you shoved him again playfully “Then don’t drink it.”

“I’m sick and you’re treating me like this?” He faked an innocent expression and you got off his lap and threw the bag at him. He looked confused at you and you took your blanket from the couch and said “Good night.”

“Y/N? I’m not sleeping on the couch tonight, am I?” Stephen asked as he swiftly rose from the couch when you didn’t respond and he yelled “Darling?”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as he suddenly sprinted toward you. With a brust of laugther, you turned and began to run up the stairs, the blanket trailing behind you.

But, of course, Stephen being a vampire quickly caught up with you, his supernatural speed allowing him to close the distance effortlessly. He reached out and gently grabbed your wrist, effectively stopping you from ascending any further.

“Hey, come on," he said, a playful glint in his eyes. "I’m very sorry for biting you.”

“Very sorry?” you laughed softly, her heart fluttering at the sight of his infectious smile.

“Very very sorry.” With a playful tug, Stephen pulled you closer, his arms encircling your waist and you said as a matter of fact “I probably caught whatever you have already so let’s go.”

And Stephen didn’t need to be told twice.

“What do you…" you let out a scream as Stephen lifts you up, throwing you over his shoulder, "Stephen Vincent Strange!"

"Yes?" And Stephen snickers as your hands hit his back demanding to be let down. Stephen just smiles as he takes you up to your room.

Part 1/Part 2

Notes: I’m still trying to get out of my writer’s block so this is somehow the best I could do.💀

Tag list: @strangesgirls @paola-carter @hamandchickensandwhich @captainannamerica @ivyheliotrope @lilithskywalker @yumeillu @winter-cant-decide @andlizeth @mintssanctuary @strangesslut @rotindselain @herseraphwings @kujosux @alahmorah @sa-filonzana @kety25jhosson @alchemxx @lucimorningst4r @dragonqueen89 @rinacreateart @clockblobber @quillweavianstuff @k1mikoz @mynamehasbeentakenbysomeperson @crazyhearttragedy @bobateadaydreams @darlingxgirl @crushingonfreddie @cloudedfairydust @robertdowneyhiddlesbatch @cemakkilic @d0ct0rstrangewife @annabelloki @allie131313 @paola-carter @annemarielovesbeenjuice @hamandchickensandwhich @strangelockd

#stephen strange #doctor stephen strange #doctor strange #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange in the multiverse of madness #doctor strange x you #doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange supreme #stephen strange x female reader #vampire #vampire au #wong marvel #stephen strange x you

99 notes · View notes