#vampire henry au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

foundtherightwords · 1 month

Text

The Hollow Heart - Chapter 1

Pairing: Hellcheer, Gothic AU

Summary: To escape her mother's control and the stifling society of Gilded Age New York, heiress Christabel Cunningham impulsively marries Henry Creel, a charming and seductive stranger, and accompanies him to his remote mansion on the West Coast. There, as Henry grows cold and cruel, Christabel must uncover her husband's sinister secret before it's too late. But can she trust Kas, her husband's enigmatic assistant, who seems to be her only ally in this strange place, or is Kas's loyalty to his master stronger than his attraction to Christabel?

A/N: This was inspired by the moodboard for "Vecna's Bride" by @a-strange-inkling. I saw the title and the Gothic imagery and my imagination just ran wild.

I changed the names to differentiate them from my Regency AU and better fit the Gothic vibe, so Chrissy is now Christabel (after the poem by Coleridge; the fic title and chapter titles are also quotes from the poem) and Eddie is Kas, because I took some inspiration from the D&D lore of Vecna and Kas (big thanks to @waterfallsilverberrywrites for helping me with that!) When I did a poll, the consensus was that Eddie's Gothic name should be Edmund, but... I prefer Kas :P (I already have plans to use Edmund for another AU.)

Chapter warnings: none (but Eddie doesn't appear in this chapter yet... please bear with me)

Chapter word count: 3.9k

Chapter 1 - At the Old Oak Tree

Christabel ran.

In the distance, she could hear the shouts and cheers of the hunting party, the excited barking of the dogs, and the occasional gunshots, cracking sharply in the crisp autumn air. She was not far enough. Lifting her heavy wool skirt above her knees, she pushed deeper into the bushes. The dead leaves from years past formed a soft carpet under her feet, muffling the sound of her steps, while the leaves of this year, despite having turned all shades of gold and crimson on the trees, had not yet fallen, so she need not worry about being discovered from their crunch underfoot. She hoped the party was not headed this way. After all her endeavors to snatch a moment alone, she intended to savor it to its fullest.

Christabel Cunningham hadn't had many opportunities to be alone in her twenty-three years on Earth. The only daughter of a wealthy New York businessman, she had been since birth surrounded by nurses and governesses and servants, who took care of her under the watchful eyes of her mother. Her father had died, quite suddenly, of a heart attack, when Christabel was only a child. Christabel did not miss him. To her, he was but a dim, distant figure, always away on business trips, or holed up in his study when at home, hiding from his wife, leaving Christabel to bear the brunt of her mother's nagging. The sole mark he'd left on Christabel's life was her name, given to her by him in a fit of romanticism, much to the disapproval of Mrs. Cunningham, who preferred classic names like Elizabeth or Catherine or Amelia. His death didn't leave much of a void behind.

Her mother, an ambitious and exacting woman, embittered by her failure to have a son and by becoming a widow so young, had poured all her affection and thwarted dreams upon her daughter, smothering the girl with them. She dictated everything Christabel wore and ate and read and play, and all the friends Christabel made and all the parties Christabel attended had to be approved by her. And so Christabel had grown up with her books and her dolls, lonely but never alone.

In truth, she hadn't been allowed to attend a lot of parties. As she grew up and learned more about her father's will, Christabel discovered a more mercenary side to what she'd once thought was her mother's overprotectiveness. As the trustee of her daughter's inheritance, Mrs. Cunningham could enjoy a lavish lifestyle, a townhouse on Fifth Avenue, a summer cottage in Newport, the latest fashion in her wardrobe and the most luxurious dishes on her table. But as soon as Christabel was married, she would be in charge of her own fortune, and Mrs. Cunningham would be left with half of what she was used to. Christabel believed that to prevent this, her mother would have locked her away forever, like Rapunzel in her tower.

But social standing has its advantages. Afraid of the wagging tongues of the town, the whispers behind closed doors that she was keeping her daughter from society to hold on to her money, Mrs. Cunningham had reluctantly allowed Christabel to make her debut when she came of age. Since then, her days had been filled with balls and theater trips in the winter, tennis matches and yacht races in the summer, giggling friends and fawning suitors, still under the watchful eyes of her mother. It was tedious, but Christabel had endured it because it was better than staying at home, surrounding by the dark walls of her room and feeling her mother's disapproving stare on her at all times. Besides, that was what was expected of all the debutantes. Smile, dance, flirt, ride, sketch or sing a little, play a little piano, speak a bit of French, a bit of German, be amusing but not sarcastic, be vivacious but not feisty, be modest but not withdrawn, and hopefully make an advantageous match, and then have daughters and watch them go through the same thing, over and over again.

Christabel knew she would not break free of this cycle. Her whole life she had been taught to do what she was told, to never question, to never put a foot out of line. But as her own, feeble form of rebellion, she made it a point to refuse every proposal she'd ever received—and there had been plenty of them. With her delicate features, dewy skin, wide blue eyes, and strawberry blonde hair, Christabel always turned heads in every room she walked in. It was true that her nose was slightly upturned and her front teeth were slightly crooked, but these flaws were seen as charming, not defective. And if her manners were at times rather listless and uninterested, well, her inheritance could more than make up for it. So a lot of men had fallen in love with her, or at least with her beauty, or with her money, and had proposed, but she had refused them all.

When Mrs. Cunningham found out about these refusals, Christabel always had a believable reason to convince her mother of her decision—the family had an unpleasant reputation, their fortunes were not equal, or the boy himself did not have a promising enough prospect. Mrs. Cunningham was appeased, for a while, but after two seasons and Christabel remained unmarried, she began to grow uneasy and warned her daughter of the perils of spinsterhood.

To all her admonishment, Christabel said nothing. It wasn't that she wanted to be an old maid for the rest of her life, far from it. But unlike other young women, who dreamed of marriage as a celebration of love or even as a way to further their social connections, Christabel saw it as a means to freedom. And none of the men in her circle could give her that freedom she so thirsted. They all grew from the same stocks, the same root. If she married one of them, she would move in the same circle, lead the same life, beating a tired circle from Manhattan to Newport and back again, perhaps with the occasional trip to Europe, but still seeing the same faces, doing the same thing as everybody else, and never be free of her mother.

For that summer season, Christabel had tried to convince her mother to go to London or Paris, or, if they had to stay, then she was secretly hoping—as hateful as it sounded—to catch the eyes of a European aristocrat, many of whom were flocking to America in search of an heiress to restore their family fortune. Europe would be the ultimate escape. However, her mother disliked traveling, and although Christabel's inheritance was sizeable, it was not large enough to draw the attention of an impoverish earl or baronet.

At least her mother had accepted Mrs. Carver's invitation to their summer mansion in Tuxedo Park for two weeks of English-style country party. There were to be riding and shooting and picnics in the woods, all culminating in a costume ball on All Hallows' Eve. They had just come back from Newport, worn out and looking forward to some quiet days to recover before the winter season, so Christabel had been afraid her mother would refuse, knowing her dislike of the outdoors. But an invitation to the exclusive Tuxedo Park was hard to come by, and when Mrs. Cunningham learned the party was thrown for Mrs. Carver's eldest, Jason, who had just come back from Yale, nothing could have kept her away.

Jason Carver. Christabel sighed. All the debutantes were in love with him, though to Christabel, he had always been just a good friend, nothing more. She'd never imagined he would set his sight on her, not when he was always surrounded by so many other girls. So it had come as a complete shock when, after a dinner party at the Carvers' mansion, Jason had asked to speak to her alone in the gazebo overlooking Tuxedo Lake. There, while the moonlight rippled over the water, turning the surface of the lake into a broken mirror, he had taken Christabel's hands in his and, tremblingly, haltingly, asked her to marry him.

For the first time, Christabel had hesitated.

Jason was one of her few childhood friends her mother had approved of, as the Carvers' Manhattan residence was not far from the Cunninghams'. He had always been kind and attentive to her, and unlike some men, she knew he cared not a jot for her inheritance, since the Carvers was one of the richest and most prominent families in the city. A marriage between her and Jason would send her mother to Heaven.

That was the problem, of course. Christabel never wanted to do anything her mother wished.

"If we are to marry, can we live here?" she'd asked. It sounded as though she had accepted him already, but she didn't care. She looked around at the untamed parkland of the mansion, with the woods surrounding it on all sides and the sparkling lake in the distance. It may not be far enough from her mother, but it would be something.

"Of course!" Jason had said, squeezing her hands. "We'll come here for the summer, and—"

"No, you mistook me. I don't mean for the summer. I mean permanently."

Jason had laughed at that, thinking it was a joke. "We can't possibly live here! I have my business in town, and there's nobody here for half of the year anyway. Why would you want to live here?"

Christabel had tried to say that she wanted to live in Tuxedo Park precisely because there was nobody there for half of the year, but one look at Jason and she knew he wouldn't understand. Nobody would.

"I'm sorry, I can't," she'd said and withdrawn her hands.

She'd half-hoped Jason would try to get her to change her mind, that he would say they could live anywhere as long as they were together, but he had only shaken his head, said, "It's not meant to be then," bowed, and gone back inside, leaving her alone on the shore of that moonlit lake. Of course. No amount of love could be enough to compel a man to throw away his whole life like that, and even if he had made the offer, she couldn't possibly have accepted such a sacrifice. Perhaps it was for the best.

Still, that hadn't stopped things from being rather tense and awkward between them when they set out for the hunt that morning. Christabel had never enjoyed hunting, but she jumped at any chance to be outdoors, to be able to walk and run and move freely without being criticized for not acting ladylike enough. And another reason—her mother, having no interest in hunting and riding, always stayed behind on such occasions. That morning, though, Christabel could feel Jason's mournful eyes on her whenever she turned. She'd only wanted to be alone with her thoughts, but it was difficult when she was surrounded by the hunting party with their guns and dogs and servants. It was only when they came across a flock of partridges and the others' attention was diverted that she managed to slip into the woods.

Now, as she walked through the trees, Christabel pondered her situation. Would it be so bad, being married to Jason? It would at least let her be mistress of her own life... except that life would still be tied to another's. No, if she simply wanted to claim her inheritance, she would've married the first man that proposed and had done with it. This regret was simply because she had started to feel anxious about her future. Could she go on like this until her mother died? Could she live as a spinster, becoming brittle and bitter in her old age, facing the pity and contempt of others? Christabel felt the old, helpless anger toward her father blaze up inside her once more when she thought about the predicament he'd placed her in. What was the use of ensuring no one could touch her inheritance, if she had to saddle herself to a man to claim it?

She passed through the line of trees and came to a clearing on the side of a hill, gently sloping toward a small glen, where an old oak tree spread its cape of gold leaves over a murmuring brook. It seemed something straight out of a Washington Irving story—all that was missing was a covered bridge. Tucking her skirt into the top of her gaiters, Christabel threw her arms over her head and sprinted down the slope, letting the cool air fill her lungs and clear her head.

Near the bottom of the slope, her skirt slipped out of the gaiters and tangled around her legs. Her ankles twisted under her and sent her tumbling down. She rolled head over heels the last few feet before skidding to a stop right by the oak. Luckily, the hill wasn't steep, and her fall had been more embarrassing than painful. She cursed under her breath. When they received Mrs. Carver's invitation, Christabel had begged and begged her mother to let her have a split skirt for the occasion so she could move about with more ease and perhaps even learn to ride a bicycle, as some of her friends had, but Mrs. Cunningham had insisted that her old riding habit, with its long trailing skirt, would do just fine. Christabel shouldn't do much walking or moving about anyway, Mrs. Cunningham had argued. Men wouldn't be interested in overly energetic girls. And as for riding a bicycle, showing off her legs in those newfangled bloomers, like some common hoyden? Forget about it.

"Are you all right, miss?" a voice said somewhere over her head.

Christabel looked up and saw a pair of blue eyes. A man had stepped out from the other side of the oak tree and was looking down at her. She suddenly became aware that she was sprawled on the ground with her skirt hiked up over her knees. She bolted up and pulled her skirt down, face burning crimson.

"Yes, yes, I'm perfectly fine, thank you," she sputtered, struggling to her feet.

Her ankle turned painfully. The man reached out a hand to help her. His grip was firm and strong.

"Thank you." Christabel peered at him more closely. He was dressed for a day out in tweed and stout boots, but with a walking stick, not a gun. "Are you with the Carver hunting party?" she asked, for she did not remember seeing him. He was a little older than Jason and her circle of friends, in his late twenties or early thirties perhaps, tall, with a fine-boned, elegant-looking face. But what startled her the most was his eyes, as clear and blue as the sky above, fixed upon her with an expression of fascination and interest quite unlike anything she'd received from her suitors. She reached a self-conscious hand to her hair, trying to dislodge any dry leaf that may have gotten stuck there.

"Carver? No, no, I'm a guest of Dr. Brenner."

Christabel's eyebrows shot up. Dr. Brenner was an eccentric who had inherited one of the largest fortunes in New York, but rather than continuing to run the family business, he had devoted his time to studies of the occult and other esoteric sciences. Unlike most of the residents of Tuxedo Park, who only kept their mansions here as holiday homes, he lived in a cottage deep in the woods year round, engaging in all sorts of obscure experiments, never interacting much with his neighbors. They tolerated him out of respect for his family name; some saw him as a harmless old fool and even invited him to some of their parties to show him off to their out-of-town friends, much like the ornamental hermits that the English aristocrats of old often kept on their grounds. Unfortunately, the Carvers were not one of these open-minded people, so Christabel had never met Dr. Brenner. She had to admit that she sometimes felt envious of him and the male privileges that allowed him to give up his family business, but not his wealth, and pursue his true passion. Alas, no such luck for her.

And here was this man, claiming to be a guest of the mysterious doctor! Her curiosity was pique immediately.

"Are you?" she asked, with interest. "I didn't know he ever invited anyone here. You must be a man of science or some sort of scholar, for him to allow you to encroach on his solitude. What is your business with him?" Then she colored again, realizing how intrusive her question was. Usually she never allowed herself to behave so casually with a gentleman, but there was something about this man that freed her from the confines of propriety. Or perhaps it was the scene around them, the wild woods and the open sky that had no use for etiquette. Still, the habits of upbringing were hard to shake off, so she cast her eyes downward and murmured, "I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to pry."

"Not at all," the man said with a friendly smile. "As a matter of fact, my family came from this area before it was developed, and Dr. Brenner is helping me to research our history. I'm just looking for the ruins of their village."

"Oh. That sounds very interesting."

"And if there's anyone who must be pardoned," the man continued, "it should be me, for I have been so presumptuous in talking to you without so much as an introduction. You must allow me to make amends, Miss—"

"Cunningham. Christabel Cunningham," she said.

"What an unusual and beautiful name." The man looked into the distance. "The lovely lady, Christabel, whom her father loves so well. What makes her in the wood so late, a furlong from the castle gate?" he recited in his rich, musical voice whose reverberation seemed to reach Christabel's very core.

She laughed to hide her blush. "A very fitting quote. Only it's not so very late, and while the Carver mansion is grand, it is far from a castle," she said. "And I'm simply taking a walk, not praying for my betrothed. In fact"—the noise from the hunting party had ceased, and she realized it must be nearly time for luncheon—"I'm just heading back now."

"And alas, I am no Geraldine," the man said. "But may I accompany you anyway?" He extended an arm toward her.

Christabel hesitated, thinking what her mother would say about walking in the woods with a stranger. But surely, there was no harm in it. The hunting party was not so far away, and she could always tell the truth—that she had gotten hurt, and this man was helping her. She took the proffered arm, and they started walking toward the Carver mansion, not following the route Christabel had, but taking the longer way, along the lakeshore, Christabel hobbling to keep up with the man's long strides. There was a dull ache in her ankle, but she bit her tongue, not wanting to complain.

"I see that you are an admirer of Coleridge, like my father," Christabel said.

"Your father must be a man of great taste then."

Her smile disappeared. "I wouldn't know. He died when I was very little." She caught herself again. Why was she telling this man, whom she met not five minutes ago and whose name she still didn't know, all these things about herself?

"Oh, I am so very sorry." The man took off his cap, revealing longish blonde hair that fell over his forehead in soft curls. His eyes were full of sympathy. "I know how difficult it is, losing one's parents. My own parents—" His voice hitched. "They died when I was very young as well. An earthquake, in San Francisco."

Christabel's heart panged with sympathy. "That must be horrible."

Those brilliant blue eyes dimmed for a moment. "It was."

"So you live in San Francisco?"

"I do, yes."

"What is it like?" she asked eagerly. Outside of Newport and occasionally the Catskills, she had never been anywhere. She had never even left the state of New York.

Before the man could answer, she put her weight on the sore ankle by mistake and let out an involuntary yelp. He turned to her, all solicitous concern. "Have you hurt yourself in the fall?" he asked.

"I must have," she replied reluctantly.

Tucking his cap into a pocket, he knelt down, took her ankle in his hand, and gently turned it this way and that. "Does this hurt?"

"Only a little," she said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, that won't do." He put one arm around her and the other under her knees, scooping her up easily as though she weighed no more than a feather. "I should have noticed sooner," he said. "I'm sorry."

"It's quite all right." Christabel was feeling a little dazed. None of her suitors had ever picked her up like that—indeed, none of them ever touched so much as the hem of her skirt without asking for permission first. She found that she didn't mind being handled, didn't mind the lack of permission-seeking. Nestling against his chest, she glanced shyly up at her gallant rescuer. Despite his slender frame, he was carrying her across the uneven terrain with no effort at all. The sun was shining upon his blonde hair, turning it into a gold helmet, and his blue eyes sparkled as he smiled down at her. She was glad they were taking the longer route.

But all too soon, the shingled walls of the Carver mansion appeared behind the trees, and the hunting party came into view. Christabel was afraid her rescuer would put her down the moment they came upon the others, but if anything, his hold around her seemed to tighten.

"There you are, Christabel," Jason said, stepping forward. "We were about to send out a search party—" His countenance changed upon seeing her in the arms of the stranger. "What happened?"

"Miss Cunningham had a bit of an accident," the man said. "I happened to come across her and took the liberty of escorting her home."

"How fortunate," Jason said, his voice icy. He all but yanked Christabel out of the other man's arms, as though she was a child, or worse, a doll, a toy to be fought over.

"I'm perfectly all right, Jason," Christabel said, fighting to put her feet on the ground. "It's just a sprain."

Jason relented and put her down. Christabel turned to her rescuer, who was replacing his cap on his hat, preparing to go. "Thank you so much," she said. "I hope I haven't delayed you from your quest."

"It was my pleasure. It's not every day a beautiful lady fell from the sky and landed at your feet, is it?"

She couldn't stop a smile from spreading across her face. "I still don't know your name."

"Haven't I told you?" He looked confused.

Christabel frowned, trying to recall. "No, I don't think so."

"Ah." He tipped his cap at her. "Henry Creel, pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Will I see you again, Mr. Creel?"

He flashed her another of his dazzling smiles. "You can count upon it." Then, with a bow in the general direction of the hunting party, who was staring at him, he turned and disappeared into the woods.

Chapter 2

As usual, if you want to be tagged, drop me a line! Any likes/reblogs/comments will be greatly appreciated, thank you!

#hellcheer #hellcheer fic #hellcheer au #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #henry creel #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #kas!eddie #vampire!eddie munson

45 notes · View notes

hornedqueenofhell · 7 months

Text

Lost in the Shadows - A Lost Boys Steddie AU

Happy Halloween all!

The first time Claudia Henderson saw the Harrington's raise a hand to their 9 year old boy she didn't think, just waited until they walked away leaving little Steven there crying and scooped him up. She took him home with her, packed up her and Dustin's belongings and after picking her youngest up from school they left Hawkins, Indiana behind.

Claudia took her sons to Los Angeles, California and they lived there until Steve Harrington, now Henderson, was almost 20. Now Claudia's father was getting up in years and needed some assistance with getting his affairs in order, he offered to let them move in until he passed and then he'd leave the house to them. Steve had been looking at colleges up that way anyway and Claudia knew Dustin would love the nearby pier, so they moved to Santa Carla.

After getting all the boxes set inside the little family decides to go check out the boardwalk. Claudia heads to the shops to inquire about work, see if there's a need for a nurse somewhere, while Steve and Dustin go tearing off towards the rides.

There's a concert going on and Dustin tells Steve to go have fun after he spots a comic book shop and some kids his age. Steve makes his way into the crowd of dancing and thrashing partiers, swaying to the music when he spots a flicker of something out of the corner of his eyes. Deep brown eyes lock onto his for just a moment and Steve rakes his eyes over the most gorgeous man he's ever seen. Thick brown curls, a white low cut shirt with studded military jacket over it decked out in patches and chains. He's got a red headed girl who looks to be about Dustin's age with him and he's trying to get to dance.

When the mystery man turns back Steve is still looking at him, he smiles shyly and tugs a lock of hair over his mouth before letting himself get distracted by the music.

Meanwhile Dustin is becoming friends with and also kinda getting harassed by Mike and Lucas who are obsessed with vampires after their friend Will was supposedly kidnapped by one before being found by the police. They show him all sorts of comics about it and the group becomes close as they all toss questions and theories back and forth, getting the first smile out of Will in weeks.

When the concert wraps up Steve goes looking for the mysterious dark haired beauty and learns his name is Eddie. He offers to escort Eddie home and sees if the other man might be willing to show him around sometime. Eddie looks torn between saying yes and looking very freaked out. His interest wins out though and with a shy nod he allows Steve to lead him to a motorcycle he spent the last summer repairing at his job.

Right as they get on though the pair are surrounded, a blonde with bright blue eyes speaks to Eddie, making snide comments until Steve tells him to shut up. Billy goads Steve into a race and Steve reluctantly agrees so the gang heads to the bluffs, Eddie giving Steve directions on the way. Steve pulls out just in time to avoid going off the cliff and attacks Billy for trying to kill him. The two of them get into it with Billy easily beating the shit out of Steve until he's unconscious.

Steve wakes up to bitter wine being poured in his mouth and Eddie sniffling.

"I didn't know what else to do, I didn't know how to save you."

Steve tries to ask Eddie what's happening but the older man shuts down and just tells him to leave. Steve gets his bike and goes home falling face first into his bed. The next morning Dustin and Steve are unpacking, Steve with his sunglasses on because he feels exhausted and hung over, and Dustin making fun of him the entire time.

The brothers have plans to get groceries that afternoon so Steve shoos Dustin upstairs to go wash up and make himself all pretty while he writes up the list. While in the kitchen Steve is working on the list when the hunger cravings hit and he finds himself almost attacking Dustin until his dog Dart lunges at him and bites him, breaking the thirst's hold over him. Dustin figures out what's happening to Steve and is determined to bring his new friends over to help despite Steve's protests about them ending up in trouble.

Mike immediately tries to stake Steve who grabs the sharpened branch and easily shatters it, surprising all of them. Everyone begins loudly debating on how to 'deal' with Steve and the other vampires but no one has any idea how to besides destroy the head vampire, who none of them know the identity of. Steve says he knows how to get answers and takes off on his bike as Claudia brings home her new boss, Victor Creel. Creel is the head surgeon at the hospital Claudia now works at and she offered him a home cooked meal after he lost a young patient on his table.

Will immediately recognizes him and drags the others off to tell them he knows who the head vampire is, because it's the same guy who kidnapped him. The kids all proceed to torment Creel to get him to leave but Creel sees Will and promises to be back for him.

Steve goes back to the cliffs looking for the vamps hideout, Eddie had gotten the blood to turn him from somewhere so they have to be close. Using his advanced senses he finds the sunken hotel and inside is Eddie. Steve demands answers and Eddie breaks down, telling him how scared he is. He distracts Steve by kissing and sleeping with him instead.

Billy catches them together after and is pissed that Eddie has again failed to kill Steve to complete his own transition and snatches Steve. He drags Steve to a beach side bonfire and forces him to watch as Billy and the others massacre the innocent party goers. He tells Steve that this is what will happen to Eddie and Dustin and all the other kids if he doesn't hand over Will and lets him go.

Steve tells the kids what happened and Billy's demand for Will Byers. No one is going to allow that to happen and plan on destroying Billy and other vamps to weaken Creel before trying to stake him next since Steve will still be a half vampire. Steve has two conditions to the plan, Eddie and Max (who he learned was Billy's half sister) since they are both only half vampires as well. The group agrees to scope out the nest and rescue the two that morning before gathering supplies to kill the vampires.

Steve, Dustin, Lucas and Mike go to the hideout and the kids start running around investigating while Steve carries Max and Eddie out to their grandfather's car he and Dustin borrowed. But the sun weakens him too and he ends up asleep in the driver's seat with Eddie and Max piled in the back. Back inside Lucas has climbed up a tangle of vines and managed to stake Jason Carver, one of Billy's cohorts, killing him. The kids end up sprayed with blood and viscera but all escape safely back to the car, they did unfortunately wake Billy though so they've lost the element of surprise.

Dustin is able to wake Steve who manages to stay conscious long enough to get them home and transfer Eddie and Max to his room before succumbing to the day sleep as well.

Realizing that the adults are useless until sunset Dustin and the kids set out to prepare for Billy's gang. They load up on holy water, garlic, and every silver object they can find. They manage to boobytrap the entire apartment just in time, but they forgot about Dart. Steve runs outside and manages to get the dog to safety as they are besieged.

The kids escape upstairs and manage to take out Angela, but their spilled blood during the fight causes Max to franzy and try to attack Lucas. Eddie stops her and together the group manages to kill Tommy Hagan, Eddie’s hands getting burned from the holy water in the bathtub as he holds Tommy’s head under.

Downstairs Steve goes for round two with Billy, the two swinging at each other with wild abandon until Steve manages to launch Billy into part of the broken staircase, impaling him through and getting rid of the bastard once and for all. Eddie manages to join Steve downstairs, taking his hand and squeezing. Then the screaming starts again.

Creel has one hand wrapped around Will’s neck and is facing down the other kids.

“Take another step closer and I’ll force both of you to tear the children apart.” Creel hisses. Steve shoves the other children behind him, clocking Lucas and Max holding hands as he does. Before he can find a weapon or think of some kind of clever plan Eddie rushes at Creel and tackles him out the window. Eddie shields Will with his body as they fall and both of them land on top of the other vampire.

Quickly pushing Will aside Eddie grabs part of the window pane and stabs it through Creel’s chest. Right as Creel shatters Eddie’s collarbone. Creel dies and Eddie just about keels over himself as his newly human again body chooses right now to start feeling pain again.

Steve rushes out to Eddie’s side, Max sobbing in Lucas’ arms as well, and helps him sit up right as a new voice speaks up.

“Eddie?”

“Wayne!” Eddie reaches out with the arm not cradled to his side as his uncle falls to his knees beside him and hugs him tightly.

“I’ve been worried sick boy, where have you been?” He pets Eddie’s hair and his nephew winces in pain but refuses to let go.

“It’s a long story. What are you doing here? How did you find me?” Wayne pulls back enough to let both Steve and Eddie see Claudia, dressed up for a date, standing a few feet away and looking very pale.

“Is it a long story for you too Stevie?” She eventually pulls herself together enough to ask. Steve nods and throws himself into her arms, letting a few relieved tears of his own escape as he squeezes her tight. “Well, let's get inside then. We can put up a few tarps and you boys can tell us everything.”

They get back inside and Claudia patches everyone up as they all put together their bits of the story. They’re able to reach out to Max’s mom and let her know that they found her daughter. Claudia will be "keeping her overnight for observation,” She tells Ms. Mayfield with a wink to Max, “But Max should be able to head home as soon as she’s cleared.”

Eddie is twenty types of delighted that his Uncle seems to be interested in a lady even though it raises twenty more types of questions about Steve’s hand still being in his. But that’s a problem for tomorrow, they’ve earned a chance to finally rest tonight.

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #dustin henderson #vampire eddie munson #vampire steve harrington #lost boys au #billy hargrove #will byers #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #henry creel #wayne munson #wayne munson x claudia henderson #steve henderson

69 notes · View notes

geonbaeeee · 3 months

Text

Vampire!Henry, anyone? 🩸✨

#my art #red white and royal blue #firstprince #digital art #prince henry rwrb #vampire!henry #vampire art #its the ✨eyes✨#rwrb au #rwrb art

36 notes · View notes

eleanorroseaxoxo · 4 months

Text

If Stranger Things was set in The Vampire Diaries AU (Part 3)

Nancy Wheeler - Human (Hunter)

Comes from a hunting family. Good with a gun. Need I say more?

Steve Harrington - Werewolf

Triggered his curse in 1983 after Barb's death (she died in his pool, in his house, at his party, and he unintentionally ignored her cries for help, idk). He always thought it was a punishment, a curse, and he hated himself and what he was until he met Robin. He's currently mentoring Lucas.

Robin Buckley - Heretic

She was originally a siphoner and was labelled a freak and an outcast by her powerful with family. She was turned in 1985 by the Russians who wanted to experiment and create a witch-vampire hybrid, becoming the first (and only) Heretic in Hawkins, she also lavishes and happily accepts her vampire lifestyle (after a huge meltdown ofc).

Billy Hargrove - Vampire

Turned in California pre-1984, he flipped his humanity switch the first chance he got.

Eddie Munson - Vampire

... Do i need to explain this one?

Henry Creel/Vecna/001 - Original Witch

He's 001, the first of his and Eleven's kind, makes sense.

#the vampire diaries #stranger things #stranger things au #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #billy hargrove #henry creel #vampire eddie munson #werewolf steve harrington #tvd au

23 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitable-rwrb · 3 months

Text

A post went around talking about werewolves being the ones who are most likely to be aristocratic, rich, etc. so ~ Werewolf!Henry

Rich family with several properties for full moon runs.

Excellent sense of smell.

New money vampire!Alex who can't stand self-privileged wolves, wants to raise vampires out of the gutters of gothic novels, and can't understand why he doesn't mind when a specific wolf knows his perfume every time they meet.

#i'm watching interview with the vampire #i will make it everyone's problem #vampire!au #werewolf!au #werewolf!henry #vampire!alex #firstprince #red white & royal blue #rwrb #red white and royal blue

14 notes · View notes

imagine1622 · 1 year

Text

128 notes · View notes

cardierreh15 · 9 months

Text

The Stranger

A lil’ sumn, sumn just in time for spooky szn my dears 😩🧡 enjoy.

**I do not give anyone permission to repost and/or copy my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Cursing , Blood , Cutting & Stabbing with claws , Non-Con Sex , Full Nelson Position?? (I think lol) , Biting , Oral (Female Recieving) , Praising Kink , Breeding , Kidnapping .

Pairing: Vampire!August x Maria(Black!Plus Size Female)

Description: August has a lil fun with his food. 😋

Word Count: 2.9K

Song: Eat Your Young by Hozier

They’re having sex in a graveyard. Thought I’d make that clear. Basically: Dead Dove Do Not Eat

The woman wheezed as she rested her hands on her knees; trying her damnedest to breathe, but the cold air burned in her chest. Doubled over, she coughed hard before slowly inhaling through her nose and then out through her mouth. Standing up straight, her lips trembled as the winter’s air embraced her in a deadly hold.

‘Home, just— try to get home.’ she muttered to herself as she wrapped her torso up in her own arms. It had seemed as if she were walking for ages now, but at least she caught her breath. ‘Home… just…almost there.’ she shivered.

Run, girl, run. A dark essence whispered through a cool breeze, heart sinking into the pit of her gut as a familiar dark laughter followed suit.

‘Stop!’ she cried out, placing both hands over her ears as she started running again. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to focus on pure thoughts. ‘This— *huff* has to be— *huff huff* a nightmare!’ Suddenly, she tripped over a branch, tumbling and rolling until her weight betrayed her; head colliding with something cool and hard. Vision blurred and disoriented, she let out a pained groan as she weakly reached out, ‘Mmmmhhhff.’

Whimpering out, she felt something wet and warm trickling down the side of her face. Dragging her weight across the cool, dewy dirt and grass. ‘Please… please,’ she begged; placing her hands on the tombstone while struggling to pull herself to her feet. ‘Please just— leave me alone!’ she called out, her knees buckling as she stood up straight.

‘Hahah, and what’s the fun in that?!’

Heart ramming in her chest, her breathing had become shallow, the lump in her throat growing painful. ‘Who— why do you follow me?! Why can’t you just leave me alone?!’ she broke out in a hysterical sob, words inaudible. ‘Please! I have nothing to offer you— I can’t— I can’t…’

It grew quiet for a moment. Only the sound of the wind dancing through the trees and the dead leaves scraping against the ground filled the air. Suddenly, when safety seemed sure, she got wrapped up in a tight embrace. A cold hand covered her lips as she began squeal into the stranger’s flesh. The stranger grinned darkly as the woman flayed her arms and legs around.

‘Tag. I've got you now!’

He snickered, turning her around to get a good look at her. She was ravishing! Full puckered lips, gray eyes that made her tears resemble a rainy day. Her skin, soft and silky like raw honey. She was almost too pretty to eat. But he’d always been the type to play with his food.

Grabbing her jaw, his pointy nails gently stabbed at her flesh. She tried to let out a shriek but he placed his index finger against her full lips, ‘aht, Aht, — that’s not a smart idea sweet pea. He grinned, ‘Scream, and I’ll slit your throat ok? Give me a nod if you understand.’

The woman’s frightened eyes stared up into his bright blue irises that shone in the darkness, resembling that of the deepest depths of the ocean. She nodded hesitantly, never taking her eyes off of him.

‘Mmm, that’s a good girl. You are awfully pretty.’ He cooed, dragging his claw down the side of her face. ‘I would have hated to kill you before I've had my fun.’ he grinned; salivating at the thought of her being his personal blood bag.

‘Now, you’re going to do whatever I say… alright?’

The woman nodded again, a single tear falling down her face. She was freezing! It wouldn’t have been a shock if her tears turned into icicles at this point.

He brought her head towards him, gently sniffing at the open wound she’d created from her dance with the ground earlier. ‘Mmm,’ he hummed in delight. ‘So sweet,’he said, before licking up the blood that dripped down the side of her face.

She was stiff as a board, unable to move from the shock that coursed through her body. There was no way this was truly happening. No, no this had to be some kind of nightmare. Shutting her eyes tightly, whispering, ‘it’s just a dream, wake up Maria, it’s just a dream—‘

His thunderous laugh ripped through the air. ‘Are you sure about that princess? Seems real enough to me.’ He cooed in her ear as he pushed her thick hair behind her ear and ran his claw down her cheek, leaving behind a simple cut. She started to cry once again.

‘Awww, shhhh —don’t cry princess,’ he said as he wiped her tears away with the pad of his thumbs. ‘Everything will be over soon. And, if you behave, I might just let you go. All you have to do… is be a good girl.’

Maria swallowed her sticky spit and nodded once again, letting out a shaky sigh. She was willing to do anything if it meant for her to live.

‘Wh— what will you have me do?’

He smirked as his eyes flickered from her face to her breasts. ‘Well,’ with just a quick swipe of his finger, he tore the fabric of her shirt with his pointy nail. His eyes immediately landing on her silky brown skin, his fangs tingling at the thought of sinking them in that supple flesh.

‘Ah!’ she gasped, instantly wrapping her own arms around her body to conceal it. ‘Wh—‘ she backed up slowly until she tripped and fell back against a stone. ‘Oof!’ she whimpered, looking up at him. ‘H-here?! Now?’ she looked around as she quivered. ‘It’s cold! And we’re in a graveyard! Have you no respect for the dead?!’

‘Oh honey… haven’t your parents taught you not to assume?’ his smirk never faltered as he stood above her, glaring down at her like a hawk stalking its prey. ‘I am… the dead.’ His fangs seemed to appear out of nowhere! They were massive, frightening and white. Very distinguishable even with nights as dark as these. She stared up at him in fear as he reached down and lended her his hand.

‘Up…’ he commanded.

Maria swallowed her spit once again and placed her hand in his before he whisked her up to her feet in a fast motion. He pressed her against his chest, listening as her heart hadn’t ceased to keep its fast pace. ‘Why were you hiding that pretty body from me huh?’ he said, running his tongue over his fangs.

‘B-because I don’t know you! You’re a stranger! A monster!’

The stranger chuckled and backed her up against a tall tombstone. Her back was pressed flush against the coolness. ‘Alright,’ he placed his hand against the stone, ‘My name is August… there, am I still a stranger?’ He drug his pointy nail down the hill and the valley of her breasts, down her tummy until he rested it beneath her button to pop it.

‘I mean… no… I guess. B-but you’re still a monster!’ She bit back.

‘Oh really? Why… that’s not very nice.’ he chuckled, ‘You’re scared of me… aren’t you princess?’ he asked, popping the button to bring the zipper down. She jumped at the sudden flick before giving him a hesitant nod.

‘Good, you should be.’ he said before grabbing her wrist and swiftly turning her around and pinning her against the stone. ‘I’m not gonna hurt you… yet,’ he whispered softly in her ear. Something so sweet, like a lullaby. ‘Just—want a little taste,’ August added as he got down on his knees and pulled her jeans down to her ankles.

‘Wha—?!’ Her panties followed soon after.

‘What are you doing?! Stop!’ She tried to move but he grabbed her thighs and held it in a tight grip. ‘Aah!’ she yelped out at the sudden pain. His claws dug into her cool flesh. ‘I told you to be a good girl! Move again, and I will crush your femur!’

‘Ughh,’ she cried out in pain. ‘Please! Just let me go! I promise I won’t tell anyone!’

‘Well you may not make it out of here to tell anyone sweetheart. We might as well have a little fun huh?’

Maria’s bottom lip trembled before she sucked it between her teeth to keep from wailing like a wraith. But instead, she utter a sound.

‘Attagirl,’ he grinned as he released his grip on her skin, ‘Now… sit still,’ he said before inhaling the scent of her core. ‘Mmmm,’ he let out a guttural growl, stretching his neck and pressing the flattened tongue against her womanhood.

‘Ooh!’ Maria’s mouth fell open as a chill slid down her spine. She could feel her knees growing numb as his tongue assaulted her clit with a vengeance. If she were going to die, at least her last few moments would be of her experiencing a one in a lifetime moment. Fucking a monster.

August lifted her thigh as he flicked his tongue over her glorious abyss and her sensitive nub. ‘Mmmm,’ he hummed before pulling away for a second. ‘Fuuuuck, you’re delicious,’ he pressed a kiss on her inner thigh before he sank his teeth into her soft flesh.

‘AAAAAAH!’ she yelped out, startled by him biting into her. Maria looked down between her legs. ‘You said you weren’t going to hurt me!!!’ she whined out.

August licked at her punctured, swollen skin before placing a kiss on it, ‘Oh relax, baby girl. It’s just a love bite. You’ll be fine.’ He chuckled before his tongue was met with her pussy once again. Such a hungry lover he was.

‘Ooooh! Dear God! That feels sooo fucking good!’ Her head fell back as her fingers gripped at the tombstone. She subconsciously began to grind her hips against his face and reached behind her to grab a hand full of his thick dark hair. His face was just a seat for her at this point. And he didn’t mind it either.

A gasp ripped through her chest as her groin began to tighten as she grew closer to her orgasm. ‘Aaah! FUCK!’ She felt as if the world were crumbling beneath her feet.

August smiled softly as she came in his mouth unreluctantly. She was so warm on his tongue. He could stay here forever if she allowed it. Pulling away from her pussy, he bit into her other thigh. Hissing at the sudden pain, Maria gritted her teeth together and just bore it.

He bit her thighs, over and over again, as if trying to mark his territory. He stood up, peppering sweet kisses against her shoulder, and then her neck. ‘My, my— you are so delicious.’

Maria was lost in a world of pure bliss. The way he touched her, the way his cool lips danced across her now burning flesh— she felt like she was in heaven; or perhaps, hell.

‘How do you feel?’ August asked as his nose nuzzled comfortably behind her ear, in her braids.

‘Am I— am I dead?’ She whispered.

He chuckled darkly before grabbing her face once again as he leaned in for a kiss. ‘Not yet princess.’

Her now hooded, lust ridden eyes stared up at him as her lips parted gently, ready to embrace his frost bitten lips in a warm kiss. Once their lips met, it was as if she’d taken ecstasy. She never felt like this before on behalf of the lips of a man. Could it be the venom on this tongue?

The more her lips indulged on his taste, the more hooked she became. Plus, she kind of liked being able to taste herself on his tongue.

He broke the kiss and looked down at her with a twinkle in his eye. Hmm, he might need her after all. But he immediately pushed those thoughts to the side and walked over to a gravestone. August unzipped his pants and pushed them down along with his boxers.

Maria’s mouth fell open in shock and partly in fear when she saw that monster spring free from the prison of his pants. How was that thing going to fit inside of her?! She’s probably had sex only a handful of times in her life. It wasn’t at the top of her To-Do list either. So it was safe to say, she was scared.

‘Don’t be afraid princess. I promise I’ll be gentle,’ he gave her a devious smirk as he motioned his sharp claw towards himself. Her head fell forward, ashamed. Once in his grasp, he spun her around so her ass was facing him. August scooped her up effortlessly with a carnivorous grin on his face.

‘Whoa—‘ she gasped as she wrapped one arm around his neck for stability as he sat down on the destroyed grave.

August lowered her down on his dick. Thanks to the blood intake, he was standing at full attention and was ready to take advantage of this moment with her.

Maria hissed, digging her nails into his shoulder as the intrusive member basically split her in half. But the pain was blissful. He was filling her out the way she deserved, the way she needed.

‘Uhhh. Damn baby girl. You are so fucking tight.’ He lifted her thigh, hooking his arm beneath her knee and using his right knee to keep her leg up. He dug his sharp claws into her flesh. His other arm lay draped across her belly in a tight hold. This way, he was able to move her body up and down just the way he wanted.

The curvaceous woman threw her head back as he took full control of her body. And the way that he used her felt so good.

‘August! Please!’ she begged before she grit her teeth together, ‘Augh!! Fuck yes!’

‘That’s good baby? Damn, you take this dick so fucking well. Such a good girl for me!’ He let out an animalistic grunt, still bouncing her body but now adding in his own thrusts.

With the two frictions coming together to make one, Maria could feel her fragile human body begin to betray her. She breathed in short breaths, the cold air burning at her chest as she did so.

‘Ooh!’ With August’s fleeting movements, Maria thought she was seeing stars. The grip she had on the upright headstone was so tight, she split her nails.

August howled as his grip on her thigh grew a bit tighter. His nails finally pierced the skin and he drew a little bit of blood. But Maria was far too gone to even pay attention to the pain. August landed multiple slaps on her inner thigh as he reached between her thighs with his free hand and began to rub at her erected clit. He picked up his thrusts, ‘Fuuu—‘

Maria’s head fell forward, her mouth falling open in a big “O” as she watched his strong hand go to work on her clit. ‘Ohhh shit!’ Her bite ridden thighs began to shake as he handled her like a $2 whore.

‘Yeaaaah? You’re gonna cum aren’t you? I can feel it. I can feel you throbbing… that pretty pussy just begging for a release.’

‘Uh huuuuh!’ She whimpered out.

He thrusted harder, faster. Her cries grew louder as he abused her pussy with purpose. With the way she was wailing, someone would say this graveyard was haunted! ‘C’mon princess,’ he gritted his teeth, ‘Come on! Give it to me!’

Maria’s toes curled in her shoes as he plowed into her as if he were trying to explore new realms. She felt the numbness creep up her neck, and now she felt like she couldn’t breathe. This didn’t feel like a common orgasm. It felt euphoric but she felt as if he’d snatched her soul.

August let out a sinister laugh. ‘Oh you sweet thing. You don’t even know what to do with yourself!,’ he cooed teasingly before he grabbed her face. He opened his mouth to welcome her in another kiss. He allowed her tongue to slither between his teeth. And with just a gentle bite, he pierced the muscle.

She whined out in pain, squirming in his embrace as she bled into his mouth. Once he broke the kiss, she laid her head back lazily against him as he had his way with her. She’d lost a lot of blood now because of him. Her body felt completely numb and at this point, he was just using her like a doll. She couldn’t feel much anymore. All she could taste was iron, and hear his desperate grunts over the sounds of the night. Her eyes filled with tears as she knew what was to come of her.

‘Ugh. Fuck, you’d be the perfect mother for my children,’ he snarled out, his teeth clenched as he felt his member throb within her. ‘Sooo, fucking warm princess.’

Maria’s eyes grew wide as a tear slid down the side of her face. She couldn’t find the strength to speak! It was a miracle she was even alive! So she just laid limply on him.

His hand cupped at her bruised up thigh as he rammed his hips faster, coaxing and milking his own nut out of him, ‘Aaah. Fuuuck!’ His balls squeezed as he shoved his member deep inside of her, kissing at her warm cervix.

Used like a whore, Maria just laid there in his hold. Just waiting for her demise. She barely blinked as she felt it would be her last.

August let out a sigh before he laid her on top of the flat gravestone. He stood up, putting himself together. ‘Aww don’t play dead on me baby girl. You’ve proved to be a lot more useful than I thought.’ With the “warmth” of his embrace gone, she laid curled up on that cold stone shivering. She was mute.

‘You’re gonna be staying with me for awhile,’ he said before effortlessly scooping her up in his arms before he began to walk into the darkness of the night.

Her eyes were heavy… and she was growing cold by what had seemed to be the minute. ‘Sl—sleeep,’ she muttered out in pain.

Sleep my princess… for you will be my Queen once you’ve awakened.

50 notes · View notes

oh-for-fic-sake-library · 2 years

Text

Thicker Then Water Final

Masterlist

Summary: being a vampire is not what youd expected. There are odd instincts and strange protocls you adhere to. But one thing remains an issue, diet. Sherlock decides enough is enough, if you cannot stomach the donations then you will live feed.

Warnings: vampire au, feeding, coercion, gore?, fluff, swearing and poorly written vampire lore😅

A/N: here is the final chapter! Woohoo! Im glad i got this finished for Halloween, that was my goal. So yay! Anyway i have enjoyed writing this and am happy with how it turned out. I hope you all enjoyed this little fic!

The last few weeks had been the strangest and most euphoric of your life being with sherlock and the boys was just? Something else. You were complete. There had been a mundane emptiness in your mortal life. Worry, money, health, bills, food everything was just so? Fucked up! You hadnt realised how inconvenient makeing food was or just how much your period impacted your entire life, not just that one painfull week. It was insane but you felt like you could live your life properly. The vampirism had freed you from a very constricted human life.

Thats not so say adjusting was a walk in the park though. You still did daily human things, watching and fretting over the news. Sometimes you forgot what you were and made a coffee only to curse and tip it in the sink going into a rage swearing the house down before curling into sherlock after having the man eye you sternly. You quickly aplogized and sulked about how yoh didnt meant to be so ratty. But it never lasted long, hushed words and gentle kisses always helped perk you up. And sex. Yeah sex helped alot, youd be a liar if you said you hadnt faked a few tantrums to get some tough lovin'

And sure the diet was still shit, the others still insisted that it would get better. They tried to use mikey as an example but the boy was only three weeks ahead of you and still joined you at the sink spitting out blood occasionally. Sometimes you just couldn't force it sdown and you seemed to set one another off. He'd mention it was salty, then you would notice it, then hed get up heaving spitting it into the sink and you'd be right on his heels doing the same.

And you did miss the sun. Not that you never saw it, saw it from inside. The uv protective glass letting you admire the huge star. But then you fell asleep after a few moments of sunrise, it was the type of sleep anesthesia gave you. A blanket suddenly smothering you and then nothing. You fought it, each night... day? You were like a child wanting to stay up later with everyone else. But you failed each day time passing out. Only to wake the next night curled up in sherlocks daybed with him drawing light patterns across your skin as he read what ever book had captured his interest.

But there were other unexpected changes to being a vampire. Random embarrassing vampire quirks, and they were pissing you off now. Your fangs dropping randomly, the sniffing and scenting, growling and purring even some ridiculous possessive. It was just so wierd, the others found it sweet as you began falling to instinctive behaviour.

You roughhoused with mikey and clark who were both young enough to give in to almost pack like playfulness. You'd hiss and pounce at them nipping one another as if learning your own strength and bite pressure. Youd been embarrassed at first as you squabbled and tussled with them like a child. But sherlock was quick to sooth you, explaining it was all part of the change. It was a natural process just like many other predators you were learning through play fighting.

The worst part of your new instincts revolved around sherlock himself though. You'd randomly get protective over him a rush of fierce anger and indignation would wash over you if the others got too close to him. Youd race over putting yourself between him and who ever was. Bareing tiny newborn fangs at them.

You felt so proud when youd made sy back away when he moved to fast around sherlock. Youd climb onto sherlocks lap almost too fast for you to even realise you had moved. Youd sat on sherlocks thighs crushing the new paper hed been reading not that he cared. His heart swelt as you gave into the protective pull. You glowered up at sy snarling savagely rising slightly as he blinked down at you smirking scoffing at you muttering how cute you were comparing you to a puffed up pomeranian small and feral

You slumped feeling a little pathetic, disappointed that you hadnt scared him. A wave of sadness washed over you. How were you going to defend your maker when you cant even scare a single lone vampire off! You flicked your gaze beack up. And grinned excited as Sy paled and backed off quickly retracing his steps and retreating. You spun to your mate proud as punch, beaming up at him

"Did'ja see that!? I made him run off! I did it, i did it!" Sherlock wrapped his arms around you tugging you close not willing to tell you it had been he who'd frightened sy off, bareing his own fangs at the boy releasing a growl you felt rather then heard. Eyes glowing and pupils lengthening to slits warning sy off.

"I did see, your becoming a fearsome little fledgling already. I will have to watch my back, soon you'll be challenging me for the top spot" he hummed laughing softly nuzzlung you sweetly soaking in your scent.

Sherlock would never let you know who sy had actually retreated from. He'd never break your little heart like that. He wanted you to become confident in yourself, you had to believe in yourself and your new abilities. Find your feet and trust in the change,not just accept your new outlook and little quirks but hone them, thrive even. Over the years sherlock had found that a fledgling that was confident and proud of themselves and their achievements accepted their change quicker. Self esteem was important, it helped avoid morbid thoughts and resentment.

And you were certainly a little firecracker, having already nipped august and walter when they had been too careless with their words. Youd drawn blood on both occasions, and felt absolutely terrible afterwards. Youd cried some5hing fierce upset youd attacked them. But it was natural, they had unknowingly challenged you and youd whipped them into place. You were the alpha female, second in command despite being newly turned.

August and walter hadnt minded much, infact they both felt a tad sheepish afterwards. They had forgotten themselves and paid the price, it didnt help that after youd succumb to your slumber that day sherlock had made a spectacle of them infront of their brothers chastising the both of them. It had felt like turning the clock back as he upended one and then the other making them both retreat to their rooms afterwards feeling sorry for themselves and embarrassed.

"What is going on?" You asked peaking out from the games room as you heard scuffling in the hall. Napoleon and august froze on the spot quickly trying to cover the third person with them. A sniffling shaking human that stunk of acidic urine who was pleading in half sobs, a bag over his head.

"O-oh shit" August grunted looking like a deer caught in some headlights. Leon glanced from you to his brother and then back to you, words failing him. You crept out of the games room fully to face the trio. You scrunched your nose sniffing the air once before shaking your head at the stench.

"August? Leon? Whats going on? You know how sherlock feels about this whole... role play thing in the house" you uttered recitin one of the unofficial rules pf the nest. No human sex-capades or role play fantasies within the home. Especially not with fledglings in the house. One drop aof blood and you and mikey could go apeshit... perhaps not this mortal though? He smelt of piss and panic. Salt, sweat grime. Ew.

"Its not roleplay-i do not roleplay with men;agh fuck! LEON?!" August quickly grunted, seemingly insulted you thought he'd be into those kind of extracurricular activities with his own sex. He was cut of with a swift punch to the gut, leon had spun and stuck him true. They gleared at one another, august snarling makeing to retaliate but you stopped him by speaking up.

"Not role play? August? That human has a bag over his head!" You exclaimed waving a hand to the dank human in a 'what the fuck?' Motion. Because what the fuck?

"He is a gift!" Leon huffed and gave a rough sco.ding shake to his bagged charge as his knees almost gave out under him. You blinked perplexed by the statment. August sent a sharp loo, to leon but sighed nodding in agreement. You got the feeling you werent supposed to have been told about this 'gift'.

"A gift? For who?" You asked flic,ing your eyes from one assassin to the other. They shrunk under your gaze for a moment, deliberating whether to reveal just who was receiveing such an odd gift. Finally they seemed to agree and both looked at you.

"You Mother" the two words confused you. They were giving you a human? To do what? A pet? Do vampires have pet human? You hadnt heard about it before? Perhaps you were deemed old enough to get introduced to the darker side of vampire life.

You shook your head frowni g at them and shifted on your feet not con ecting the dots. Just as you gave up and made to ask sherlocks voice called out from a doorway you swore had never been there.

"Boys? Oh good you found him! Brilliant; this way, take him down into the crypt" sherlock said in a chipper tone. But despite his s,ile here was so thing else? A chill in his gleeful words. Ice in his eyes that burned, stinging and swift. Leon and august both quickly shuffled into the doorway, managing to squeeze through woth the human tucked between them. You sworethere were faint aplogetic whines from them as they passed their maker.

"Crypt? We have a crypt? What crypt; Wait sherlock? Do you know about this gift?" You questioned stretchingnonto yourmtippy toes trying to follow where leon and august had just dragged the unfortunate human. Sherlock tipped his head to you before capturing you in his arms, pulling you to his chest when you tri÷d to sweep past him. You grunted and swerved, now far to intrigued to let this go. You had a fucking crypt! Maybe it was spooky with candles and coffins!

Your mind wandered, conjuring scenes with armands nest from invterview with a vampire. Sherlock chuckled at your excitment thrumming through the bond. But quickly spun you and rested his chin on your crown amused when you whined. You hated that, it was a short thing apparently. He coiled his arms around ou and began slowly letting you follow his sons into the crypt.

"Yes love. Well no, we dont have a crypt persay, but we do have a concrete vampire proof safe room incase anything unfortunate happes. But mostly it has been used as a time out. Its just a room thats stong and easy to clean." He spoke with amusement as you grunted and tugged him along with determined steps, making your way down the once concealed hallway.

"But yes i did arrange for a little present for you." Sherlock finalised. Before halting you, weaving arohnd you and pressed a neavy hand on your shoulder squeezing once and then tentered the room where the human was nos sbdued. A large manacle on each writst weighingnthem down, each one connedted to the floor with a few yards of chain.

You hovered by the door for a moment. The room was plain. Cpncret walls and floors a simple spotlight in the center illuminating the space in a dark orange glow. Ou ould make out the slight tilt to the floor, a grate covered drain in the center below the humans feet. It was like a big sink, designes to let everything find the drain. You shuddered for a moment there was only one thing meant to be drained away in this room.

Sherlock strode in like he owned the place. But the again he did so no surprises there. Both leon and august moved back from the human as sherlock prowled around him. Making his shoes grind on the floor with a slight twist. His grin darkened as the human began sobbing in earnest shaking and twitching, turni g his head trying to follow sherlocks movements.

Your mate finally came to a halt before the human and glared at him sinisterly. And then he beckoned you raising a hand, palm up waiting foryou to enter the room. You felt both leon and augusts eyes on you, their excitement growing. Sherlock pivoted his head to you and then spoke softly.

"Come my love, dont be so aprihensive. This is a gift. For you. I know how hard it is to feed from livestock and I want you to be healthy and well fed." You crossed the space between you and held his hand tightly. He squeezed it reassuringly before be8nging your hand to his lips kissing it gently.

"So today we start your vein feeding"

"really? so soon" you asked quietly, bearly whispering. Your stomach dropped and suddenly you were tense. There was something dark about this. Sherlock wasntmyour sweet lovable mate. Since entering this room he had become your master, your maker, a predator and more frightening then anything you had ever seen in your life.

"It easier when you hate the human. You have less guilt if you accidentally kill.You need to learn to feed from the vein eventually, this is the easiest way" sherlock explained sharply, cleary letting you know he expected you to obey him in this, this was serious business.

"I... i cant i dont think;" your throat tightened as you vocalised your defiance. Your chest hurt, it was unnatural to go against your maker. Your eyes teared, red blurring your vision and you shook your head glancing at your mate lleading with him silently. You wasnt ready for this.

"Love, im afraid you must. Its something we all must master, feeding and handling human frailty. And the bagged supply isnt as healthy for us. You are falling behind, soon you will become ill we must act now prevention is better than cure" sherlock insisted softly, cooing at you making sire to be gentle but firm. You were going to have this lesson today. Here and now because he will be damned if you let yourself waste.

Though he was pleased with your progress in other areas you were under nourished, you were failing to feed as much as you needed to, and were a few weeks behind in development. You should be strong enough to sprout your secondary fangs and a few pin teeth by now! But your weren't even close. It unsettled him. You need to vein feed, higher nutrition in a smaller amount. And he couldnt very well bring in some human livestock and pay out a hefty insurance for an accident and be black listed. It just wasnt worth the risk right now. So hopefully this will.

"But what if?" You began questioning sherlock,peering up at him but he hushed you quickly.

"If he dies he dies. Come lets see what our boys have brought you" sherlock uttered rubing his hands up and down your biceps, holding you infront of him.

"Mother here he is!" August announced and tugged the bag from the humans head revealing your gift. You froze, gasping as you took in the sight. You felt sick to your stomach, quivering and tried backing away but sherlock hushed you, coaxing you to take some calming breaths as he blocked your escape. He will not let you run from this mortal, you ahd no reason to fear.

"Tada! The one who caused you such pain" August finished and slapped the him on the back drawing a yelp from him. You bearly heard the vampires gloating. Your entire being was transfixed on watching your tormentor as he blinked rapidly still sobbing whilst trying to adjust to the light.

"He can pop your vein cherry so to speak, or if you dont want to puncture him i have these new interesting figit spinner knives;" leon began getting excited and was about to launch into how you could slice and dice to get the best out of your prey.

"Leon" sherlocks voice was nothing but a rasp, a gravely threat echojng off the barren walls. He stepped around you slightly dropping his hands from you entirely and stood tall befor Leon with a stern look.

"Sorry father, i got excited" leon had the decancy to look sheepish and ducked his head away from his fathers gaze. Sherlock eyed him for a moment before sighing.

"Yes well im beginning her lesson. August, i will call you and walter down to clean up once we are done" both august and leon took that as their cue to leave and inched past you, each placing a kiss to your cheek wishing you a happy feed. And just like that it was you sherlock and the terrified mortal.

A few moments of silence fell over the room, the harsh breaths of your would be victim seemed to become the backing track to you and your makers stareing contest. You hadnt been aware you were challenging him at first. You were at a loss. You didnt want to feed from a mortal yet. Certainly not this one!

Sherlock hovered and his eyes narrowed, head tiping forward you could practically hear him 'What do you think you are doing?' Finally you looked away unable to endure his unwavering stare. Your fingers twisted your top nervously and you made a point to knaw at your lip glancing around the room avoiding eyeing both your lover and the whimpring man in chains.

"My love i wanted to take the pressure off. You dont have to be worried about ending his life. Because if you kill him during a feed it will be one hundred times kinder then what death i have planned for him. slow, painfull as he deserves for ever hurting you. No one survives attacking my heart" sherlock reasoned, trying to make you come arohnd to his way of thinking. You wanted 5o argue, but there was never any arguing with sherlock. Especially when he was in this dominant kind of mood. You hadnt seen him this extreme before, but you knew when he would budge. And now was not the time.

You nodded to your mate in a reluctant acceptance. The sooner you faced this the better? It might not be that bad. Bite suck

Leave right? What happened dow here after you fed wasnt your business. If sherlock killed him the it was a natural death right? A predator ending his prey. Thats how the food chain worked. You inched closer to your maker finding yourself agreeingnto give this vein feed a try. It was the least you could do after august and leon had hand delivered your meal. It was like just eat! In a morbid kind of way.

"Ana! oh My god your alive!?" The spell was broken as the male finally recognized you as you stepped closer.

"God ive been so worried! We were looking but never; the vampires? Everyone assumed you were dead!" His words were desperate, lies dripping with a panic that so ehow felt relieved. Like he now bthought yoh wouldnt dare let anything happen to him. That you were obligated to protect him despite all he had done?

But then again if you were mortal you probably would vouch for him. Feel some sense of responsibility for him because your were kin. Mortal. Human, that being the same species placed some kind of responsibility on you?

It was an odd realisation. That your humanity had somewhat vanished in that respect. Were you scared? Of course, did you fear your violent nature? Yes. But your fear wasnt about the act, or worry for your would be victim. No your aprihension was somthing more selfish. You feared youd cross a line and become a monster driven only by hunger and greed. You feared making yourself a murderer. You did not fear the act of killing, or the consequences.

"Ana? Ana where? Your here? Youve been here all this time right? They thought you were dead! But your here! You can! Ana please! You gotta help me out here... ana?" The hope in hos words was tangible, you could feel the desperation and pleading undertone in every hushed syllable. It made your stomach churn. Yet sherlocks grin widened, his fangs clearly elongated from the excitement. He looked frightful.

"Why are you just standing there!? Help me! Talk to them! Tell them this is a mistake! Your close to them; friends even!" Anger seeped into the male as his panic rose. Yet you watched on, trying to figure out how to avoid this mess. Not just to escape live feeding, but also to avoid this particular reality.

You could ignore what youd become all the while drinking from blood bags and coffee cups. But this? This was something no one could mistake. It was a hurdle, possibly the final one to solidify your acceptance. You were not human anymore. You were a vampire, a predator, a killer. And tonight it seems was your night to prove it to yourself and make peace with it.

"Ana? Wait... ana... whats wrong? You look different." You hissed through your teeth as sherlock slowly crept closer to you, coaxing you forward so the once cruel now pitiful mortal could see you properly.

"Oh... oh god, oh god no! No! NO ANA NO, PLEASE NOOO!?" The penny finally dropped and he began to scream once more, louder and shrill. He had realised he was beouht here to endure a fledglings feed. And wouldnt make it out.

You whined, shivering and shook your head, hands snapping over your ears as the man youd once cowered from screeched high enough to hurt your sensitive ears. Your ear drums threatening to burst.

Sherlock snarled as he saw and felt your discomfort. The terrifying sound echoed off the barren chamber walls and he lunged hands gripping the human startling him into silence. Whimpers and harsh yet quiet breaths drowned out everything around you. Sherlock left you to clm down, feeling the way you eased again. Clearly uncomfortable about what must be done but like all obedient feldglings you were willing.

"Here my sweet child. The first lesson, you grip here. The hair at the base of the scull" sherlock called you closer, lulling you as he did so. His hands were frim on the mortal, controlling his head and neck with one well placed fist in the hair. His words captrued your attention and you lowered your hands to your sides slowly.

"Normally youd caress gently, coo soft reassuring words. But we dont need to be as delicate with this prey now do we?" You nodded absentmindedly agreeing with sherlock. This human was undeserving of any mercy. Thats what sherlock felt, and honestly youd be lying if you didnt admit to thinking this was somehow karma? But you realistically youknew it wasnt karma. Your confusing rage and conflicting though were from revenge.

"Come, its fine he wont harm you. He is small, weak. Insignificant. He has no power over you anymore love. You are stronger then he will ever dream to be." Your mates coaxing was topped with subtle command. You couldnt find it in you to refuse him. Your feet carried you closer and finally you stood beside your lover warily, shifting on your feet eyes seeking out his willing him to let you leave this lesson for another day. But the pleading gazr did nothing to sherlock. He had slipped into another head space. For the time being you were not his heart, you were his child, his weakened fledgling that bordered being malnourished. And you will obey him, come hell or high water you will feed properly tonight.Thats not to say he will be a brute about it.

"Its okay my love. See hold here, see how you can twist his head around, side to side, front to back? You can choose your side" his voice was calm, soft but somehow still firm. He directed you gently pulling your hand to the quivering humans hair and perssing you to latch on with a tight fist tangling into the strands.

You moved you hand slowly, testing out your grip. Twisting your victims head this way and that. And then stopped grunting as the thundering vein on the column of his throat caght your atention. The blood pumping furiously below the thin skin capturing you in a trance.

"Ah, i see your instincts are awakening. And youve choseen the correct side. The right side is always better full of oxygen rich blood, it has the most nutrients. High in iron, exactly what a new little fledgling needs" he announced, excitment bubbled inside of you from the praise, you smiled at him casting your lover a glance. Sherlocks hand moved towards your victim and before you knew what you were doing youd snarled at your maker ferociously, warning him to back off whislt suddenly jerking your meals head to the left and tried to bite.

But for all the speed you instincts gave you sherlock was older and faster. His hand captured your jaw with frighteneing precision and held you still a breath away from the violent thudding vein. He moved another hand to you, wagging it in your face before tapping you on the nose and scolded you.

"Ah ah, no. We do not just dive in, we are not werewolves fighting over a carcass. We are refined creatures and i will not have such an ill-mannered fledgling" the chiding words made you whine up at him with wide eyes. You suddenly felt like a small child being told not to chew with your mouth open.

"Now pretend this is wine, or a fine meal. Savour it. Scent him first." All embarrassment left you as you took in his words, drawing in a few deep breaths trying to find the subtlety hidden in your meals scent.You paused frowning and drew another breath and grinned.

"See? Its so much better when they are frightened; it gives them a light acidity like lemon but maybe sweeter citrus" sherlocks explanation should have troubled you. But it didnt? Was this it? Was thisthe moment of true transformation? When you let go of humanity and embrace your nature. Accept your new fate and food?

"Oh like err oranges?" You asked quietly, trying to block out all the frightening questions that roamed you kind. This wasnt meantmto be a thinking moment. This was instinctive, you were meant to learn, not question the morality of your new diet.

"Yes, you dont get the same... seasoning from the blood bags. Each emotion add a garnish. Fear citrus, lust and sex adds a honey or maple sweetness, hate and anger is like a smokey hint" you blinked at him nodding as much as his hpld on your chin and jaw would allow, but couldnt help your gaze flicking down to the mortal impatiently. Your not sure at what point youd stopped caring about the life of your meal, or your human morals. But they had dissolved, crushed under your new undeniable need. Sherlock chuckled shaking his head at you. You were a darling little fedgling, he almost felt for you. He'd triggered you on purpose, drawing you close to your meal, letting you lock onto your vein before moving unexpectedly. Forcing you to react in a natural food aggression. Once you had let yourself subconsyourself seperate the concepts of human life and food, it was easy to give in.

"Now i belive we have waited long enough darling" you swallowed dryly as sherlocks hand dropped from your jaw. He smiled nodding to the vein subtly encouraging you. You frowned unsure if it was a test? Lost in this strange primal feeling yet still trying to hold back and behave. You didnt want to disappoint your maker a secodn time. So carefully sniffed the human again with your eyes still watching your maker.

"No no, its okay love, drink up you need it" with that you threw caution to the wind and clamped down harder then you probably should have. You whined feeling something shift inside of you as your fangs descended into the flesh of your tormenter. As if the odd transition from mortal to immortal had finally been complete. Any fear or guilt youd have around feeding left you as you tore into you meal. A Ravenous hunger spurring your every movement, for the first time since your own bite you could taste something reminiscent of human food, the bloods salty copper twang was overpowered by a fearful citrus flavour. Sweet orange with a light sour note. You understood now why som many vampires accidentally killed their first few meals. After relying on bags of sickly salt monstrosities having something fresh to taste was heaven. You couldnt stop. You wouldnt.

Sherlock watched you with a light smile, pride lighting his gaze. His hands resting on your hips as you drained your first human. It was a morbid act, terrifying and horrific to a human. But for makers it was a proud moment, it meant their feldgling would survive. It was private and signified the final stepping stone in a vampires creation. Sherlock could now officially grant you your rightfull place beside him as his mate and the mother of his nest. And he could now reveal you publicly to the night society. And he couldnt wait to flaunt you.

#henry cavill #oh for fic sake fics #henry cavill fanfiction #henry sherlock #vampire!sherlock x reader #vampire au #dark fic?#fic: thicker then water

176 notes · View notes

stratocumulusperlucidus · 4 months

Text

Fic recs but they're all wips

I'm currently reading some really good First Prince fanfictions that are in the process of being published (some are already written, some are not), and it's been really fun having to wait for the next chapter and getting notifications so I thought I'd share.

Looping Day by TuppingLiberty

Chapters: 3/?

When Alex wakes up at the Melbourne Climate Conference after meeting Prince Henry, and it's actually not the next day, he realizes he's looping time.

Common Misconceptions of Ghosting by @faketrex

Chapters: 4/7

It takes Alex several years in the residence before he meets a White House ghost.

It takes him a good while longer yet to actually realize it once he has.

(Or, five times Henry haunts Alex, and one time he doesn't.)

NOTE: This story is complete, updates will be posted Tuesdays and Fridays.

False Dichotomy by chamel /@cha-melodius

Chapters: 2/12

One of the world’s largest retailers is opening a store on his street. A bookstore. He looks down at the article in his hand again and catches sight of a phrase: “We hope that people will see this as more than a bookstore, and hope to foster a sense of community.” As if Henry Fox-Mountchristen has any concept of what community means.

Alex very narrowly does not break something.

(When global mega-retailer Mountchristen opens a new location—led by the infuriatingly attractive and insufferable Henry Fox-Mountchristen—near his LGBTQ-focused bookshop in Soho, Alex's comfortable life is turned upsided down. Luckily, he has one of his best friends to turn to: a guy he met online and knows only as H. Meanwhile, Henry is battling against his family to make a positive difference in the world and falling further in love with a man he's never met. But... what if they changed that?

Yes, it's a You've Got Mail AU. Completely written, updating Tuesdays and Fridays.)

Sweet Like Cinnamon by KarsKars

Chapters: 3/?

Soulmate Vampire AU where soulmates share senses. Alex and Henry share the sense of taste - which poses a problem when your soulmate is an actual vampire.

Hair Twined With Flowers by Thee_Maxwell / @gay-flyboys

Chapters: 3/5

Most people get used to the feeling of their soulmate flowers appearing—it’s never something that’s too intense. They show up with just a slight pain so you didn’t accidentally look down one day and find your shin had been entirely covered in a bright red bouquet of whatever flower the cosmos decided to permanently etch onto your skin.

Alex has long since made peace with his flower being a fucking type of mint. Technically. His skin is decorated in several places with long strands of lavender. They’ve all faded now, a ghost along his skin, barely visible if you weren’t looking, though they never fully go away.

The Soulmate Flower AU

12 notes · View notes

foundtherightwords · 12 days

Text

The Hollow Heart - Chapter 4

Pairing: Hellcheer, Gothic AU

Chapter warnings: some violence

Chapter word count: 4.7k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Chapter 4 - Over the Mountains Haste Along

She was running through the woods. It was dark, and the mottled silver carpet of moonlight did nothing to illuminate her path, except to deepen the shadows. Her heart was pounding in her chest, making it hard to breathe, and her legs burned, the muscles so exhausted it was like moving through molasses. But she couldn't stop, she couldn't afford to stop. Something was behind her, an evil, terrible thing. She didn't know what it was, she only knew she must not let it catch her, never let it catch her...

This is a dream, she told herself. I'm no longer in Tuxedo Park. I'm on the train, going—somewhere. Where was she going? She felt that if she could remember that, she would wake from this dream and everything would be right. Why couldn't she remember?

She stumbled over something and went sprawling on the ground. Usually, this would be the point where she woke up, but this time she didn't wake. The dream continued.

She looked down at what she had tripped over, and recoiled in horror.

It was herself.

She was lying on her back, eyes wide and unblinking, staring at the dark sky. One leg was caught in a steel trap, still dripping blood. The pendant lay glistening on her chest. No—it wasn't the pendant. As Christabel bent down to look more closely at her own body lying there on the forest floor, she realized that the dark spot on her chest wasn't the stained glass pendant, but blood—a pool of black, thick blood, frozen like a lump of volcanic rock, right where her heart should be.

The trees exploded behind her.

Turning away from the horror of her own death, Christabel whirled around and saw another horror—the thing, the terrible, evil thing that was chasing her, had finally caught up with her. She saw now that it was a hare, a giant hare, so tall that the tips of its ears rose above the canopy of the forest, and so big that it blotted out the moon, so all she could see were its whiskers shining silver under the moonlight, and its eyes, glowing like two furnaces, blinding her.

At her feet, her other body stirred. Bloody fingers tugged weakly at the hem of her skirt. The mouth opened. Though no words came out, Christabel knew, knew from the look in those desperate eyes. Her other body wished to be put out of her misery, before the hare caught her—caught them both—and did something even worse.

And somehow, she found herself closing her fingers around her throat, but it wasn't the throat of her other body, it was her own throat, and it wasn't her fingers, but Henry's. The hare was gone, and there was only Henry, his face looming above her, his eyes burning just like the hare's, his hand crushing her windpipes, choking her...

Christabel opened her eyes. Her heart was still hammering in her chest, and for a moment, she did not know where she was. Bright sunlight was shining over her eyes through a large window, and the window was moving. No, the window wasn't moving, the whole room was moving, and it wasn't a room, it was a train compartment. Yes, she was on a train, to—San Francisco. She was married and on her way back to San Francisco with Henry.

She slowly sat up, watching autumnal woods and farmland pass by peacefully outside the window, playing with the new weight of the wedding ring on her finger, letting the steady click-clacking of steel wheels over rail joints soothe her jangled nerves.

It was a dream. Just a dream.

Once her heartbeats had returned to normal, Christabel started to take in her surroundings. The compartment was as well-appointed as the most luxurious hotel room, with gilt moldings on the ceiling and along the walls, silk curtains, velvet upholsteries, and carved mahogany furniture. With all the giddy delight of a child on her first trip away from home—and this was true in her case, for she had never been anywhere further than Newport—she looked over her compartment, turning on the tap over the little sink, opening the cupboard to find her two cases, hat, jacket, and shoes neatly placed inside, marveling at the electric reading light over her bed.

But where was her husband?

The compartment only had a single berth, the cupboard only held her things. There was no sign of Henry. He wouldn't have left her here, would he? Or—a knot of worry started twisting her stomach—had something happened and he had been held back in New York?

That terrible possibility wiped all thoughts from Christabel's mind. She jumped off the bed, threw on her jacket, and went out into the corridor in search of her husband.

All the compartments along the corridor were either full or locked from the inside. She passed through the sleeping cars and into the dining car. It was mostly empty, with only a few passengers sitting over cups of coffee, and she realized the knot in her stomach wasn't just from worry, but from hunger as well. She was absolutely famished. How long had she been asleep?

The ladies' parlor was next, where a number of women were chatting or reading or writing letters. Some gave Christabel a curious glance as she went past, and she forced herself to slow her steps. She must be looking terribly untidy, with her wrinkled dress, flyaway hair, and panic-stricken eyes. She shouldn't have gone to search for Henry herself. She should've sent a porter, or at least made herself look more presentable, instead of running through the train like a madwoman. But she went on anyway.

A burst of masculine laughs told her that she was approaching the clubroom car, and Christabel hesitated. She didn't want to burst in on the men's place. But she had to settle her worry. Perhaps she could just open the door to peek in and make sure Henry was there, and return to her compartment.

She pushed the door open. And there he was. His back was to her, but she could see him throwing his blonde head back in laughter amidst the cigar smoke and the clinking of whisky glasses in the dark interior of the saloon car. The knot in her stomach loosened, but at the same time, a new feeling rose in its place—not quite anger, more like irritation and disappointment. This was their first day as husband and wife, and he chose to spend it away from her.

The men fell silent as Christabel entered. Henry turned around, and a peculiar look passed across his face—a scowl that briefly drew his eyebrows together over his Roman nose, which once again put her in mind of Cabanel's Lucifer. Christabel shivered, remembering her nightmare.

Then the scowl was gone in a flash, replaced by his usual smile as he stood up to meet her.

"Darling, what are you doing here?" he said. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I've slept quite enough, thank you," she replied stiffly. She longed to kiss him, but not with all these men ogling her as though they had never seen a woman before. "I've been looking for you all over. Where were you?" Though she tried not to show it, some of the disappointment still seeped through in her voice.

"I was right here."

"You aren't even staying in the same compartment?"

Henry took a quick look around the room. Christabel had the uncomfortable realization that they were having the very first quarrel of their marriage life in a public place, so when Henry grabbed her arm and took her into the corridor, she didn't fight back.

"Don't blame me, blame Kas," Henry said, once they were outside the clubroom. "He couldn't find a suite or even two compartments close together, so he booked me a compartment at the other end of the train. Besides, you were fast asleep. What do you want me to do, sit and wait until you wake up like Sleeping Beauty?"

She was quiet, abashed. He was right, of course. She was acting like a petulant child who had woken up from a nightmare and become sullen when she couldn't find her mama. No wonder he'd scowled at her.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's been a rather eventful night, and I was tired, that's all. You're right, I should rest some more."

He let go of her arm and nodded. "I'll see you at dinner then."

Fully reprimanded, Christabel returned to her compartment. Passing through the dining car, she realized she was too hungry to wait until dinner, so she sat down and ordered a pot of tea with some scones. She ate with relish, putting three sugars into her tea, piling cream and jam high on the scones, knowing that she would never again have to listen to her mother telling her to watch her figure.

It was only after she'd had her fill that Christabel made a mortifying discovery. "I don't have any cash," she said sheepishly to the waiter. She could go back to the clubroom car and ask Henry for some money, of course, but she did not want to be humiliated again, after he'd basically sent her to her room.

"It's all right, madam," the waiter replied smoothly. "If you would give me your compartment and berth number, we'll charge it to your bill."

The whole situation soured the trip for her a little. Mostly she was angry with herself for being so clumsy and naïve about everything. She was a married woman now and must act accordingly.

When it was time for dinner, Christabel felt a little better. The train offered a ladies' maid service, so her hair was now properly dressed and she'd changed into an evening gown—how lucky that she'd thought to pack one! When Henry came to escort her to the dining car, she thought she could detect an admiring look in his eyes and flushed with satisfaction.

Over dinner, Henry told her that they would arrive in Chicago early the next morning, and then it was three more days to San Francisco.

"Is the train going to pass by the Great Lakes?" Christabel exclaimed eagerly. "Can we see them? It's"—she tried to conjure up the map of the country from her geography lessons—"Ontario and Erie, isn't it?"

Henry shrugged, digging into his roast beef with gusto. "It'll be dark when the train passes them."

"Oh." She deflated, then quickly brightened up as an idea occurred to her. "Can we stop in Chicago for a few days?" she asked. "I've never seen the city."

"You'll find that it's not that different from New York, only even busier and rougher," Henry said. "Besides, we're still too close. Who knows, your mother may have called the police on me for kidnapping you. I can't rest easy until we're settled in San Francisco."

Christabel looked down at her lobster salad to hide her flush. "Of course."

In truth, she had another reason for suggesting a stay in Chicago—she was hoping they could have a proper wedding night. Despite her mother's rigid control, Christabel was not wholly ignorant about what happened between husbands and wives, and she would be lying if she said she hadn't dreamed of Henry in that way, even before he'd kissed her. She had hoped that he would take her hint and suggest a stay in a hotel, where they could have more privacy, but he was right. They weren't out of danger yet. Once they were back in San Francisco, there would be plenty of time to enjoy being married.

After dinner, Christabel lingered over her coffee, expecting Henry would invite her to join him in the observation car—the one public place on the train where men and women could mingle. But as soon as he drained his wine, he got to his feet, offered her his arm, and led her back to her compartment. "Good night then," he said, dropping a quick kiss on the top of her head before sauntering back to the clubroom car.

Christabel sighed as she went inside and got undressed. Perhaps a train was not the best place to be newlyweds.

Over the next few days, she didn't see much of Henry. She had breakfast brought to her compartment, so they would meet only for luncheon and dinner, and afterward, Henry would give her a friendly peck and returned to the clubroom car, where he could read and talk with the other men about things that only men would understand, she supposed. She tried not to mind it too much and found her own ways to kill time. When she got tired of watching the scenery outside the windows—once they left Chicago, it was all farmlands as far as the eye could see, most lying brown and exhausted after the harvest—she turned to the library in the ladies' parlor. The magazines and books of light fiction it offered interested her a lot less than a timetable of the railway she found, left by some absent-minded passenger. She spent hours poring over the booklet, staring at all the stops, most of which she had never even heard of, rolling the unfamiliar syllables on her tongue, trying to imagine what it would be like to visit them. Some sounded charming and quaint, like something out of a fairy tale—Blue Creek, Willow Island, Battle Mountain, Stone House. Others were exotic and romantic—Argenta, Oreana, El Moro. Some were downright bizarre but promised such stories behind them—Miser, Separation, Fair Play, and the incomparable Rough and Ready. So many places. There were also descriptions and illustrations of all the notable sights along the way. She must convince Henry to make the return trip, with stops this time—perhaps in the spring, after they had settled in San Francisco.

On the third day of the trip, the mountains began, and Christabel forgot everything else. She had never seen mountains like these. The homey mountains of New England had nothing over these veritable fortresses that rose dramatically out of the flat plains, their colors ranging from gray and brown to dark green and deep blue, almost purple, capped with glittery snow in the distance. There were few signs of life, except for a homestead or ranch nestled here and there at the foot of these giants, and the occasional cattle, listlessly browsing amongst the brown shrubs near the tracks, and even some white skulls grinning at the sky.

The train began to climb, passing through tunnels that had been cut out of the mountains, showing swathes of their inside all golden brown and dull red. Scraggly pines clung to the rocks, while a foaming river flew swiftly by beneath them. Then even the pines disappeared, and the mountains flattened, their sheer faces looming on one side of the train like the walls of some houses built by giants.

Christabel couldn't take her eyes off them. Her only wish was that Henry had shared her enthusiasm. He didn't listen to her when she talked about them at luncheon, and that evening, he didn't even show up to escort her to dinner as usual. When Christabel sent a porter to search for him—she had learned her lesson after that first day—the porter came back saying that Henry was in the middle of a poker game and told her to have dinner without him.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Christabel thanked the porter and closed the door, before ripping off her evening dress. She slumped down on the bed and turned to the window, though it was dark outside and there was nothing to see. This was not how she imagined the first few days of her marriage would go. Had she done something to displease Henry? Had she talked too much or embarrassed him somehow? Was he still angry with her for barging in on him that first day? Why was he ignoring her like this?

She must have fallen asleep at some point, because when she woke up, the window was no longer pitch black—the sky was turning a soft bluish gray. Then she saw something outside the window and sat up in astonishment, her misery over Henry's neglect completely forgotten.

The train was running over the silver surface of a lake. It spread all the way to the end of the horizon, an endless mirror that reflected the brightening sky. This must be the Great Salt Lake of Utah.

Seized by an urge to see the lake in its entirety, Christabel threw her robe over her chemise and ran down the corridor, toward the observation car at the end of the train. All the compartments were locked, their inhabitants still fast asleep. What fools! Do they not know that they are missing out on such a marvelous sight?

The observation car was empty. Christabel threw open the glass door that led to the platform outside. Her mouth fell open at the scene before her. There was no bridge. Instead, they were traveling on a causeway so low and narrow that the water was flush with the rails, giving the impression that the train was floating over the lake like a boat. The sky and the lake were the same silvery blue, and the smudge of mountains in the distance was so perfectly mirrored on the lake's surface that if it hadn't been for the causeway cutting across the lake like a pencil line, it would have been impossible to tell where the sky ended and the earth began. Not a breath of wind ruffled the gleaming façade of the water. Not a sound disturbed the absolute peace of the place, not even the clickety-clack of the train. For a moment, Christabel felt she was the only person alive in the world.

Perhaps not quite. A small cough behind made her whirl around, and she found herself looking into those unfathomable dark eyes again. Kas. She hadn't thought of him since he dropped her and Henry off at the wedding chapel on Monday morning.

"Beg your pardon, miss," he said, then quickly corrected himself, "I mean, Mrs. Creel. I know I shouldn't be here, but there's no observation platform in third class." He gave her a quick bow. "I'll go now."

"No, that's quite all right," Christabel said. "You don't have to leave on my account." After days of being alone, she was getting tired of her own company, and didn't mind sharing the platform with someone else. Drawing the robe closer around her body, aware that she only had on a thin chemise underneath, she turned back to the lake. "It's quite something, isn't it?"

"It is." Kas came to stand by her at the railing. He pulled a flask out of his pocket and took a surreptitious sip. "That's why I came out here. Wish I could see it during the day though."

"Oh, are we going to pass it by the time the sun comes up?"

Kas seemed discomfited, as though he'd revealed too much. "No," he said slowly. "I just won't be able to see it then."

"Because the first-class passengers may frown upon your presence?"

"No." A pause, then, "I have this condition. Photosensitivity, they call it."

"What is it?" Christabel asked, for she had never heard of such a thing.

"I'm allergic to sunlight," he said, matter-of-factly. "This weak light is fine"—he waved his hand at the dawn—"but anything stronger and I'll break out in rashes and suffocate."

"That's terrible!" Christabel exclaimed. "How do you cope during the day, over in the third-class car?" She thought of the bright sun shining even through the curtains of her window. She could shut them if she wanted, but in third class, where one was surrounded by other passengers, it wouldn't be that simple.

He looked at her strangely, and it occurred to her that perhaps nobody had thought to ask him that before. "I stay in the sleeping berth," he said with a shrug. "It's above the windows so it's darker up there. That and a big blanket will do me just fine. Pretty sure my fellow passengers thought I was some sort of ghoul, but I'm used to that." He cracked a small smile, and she smiled back uncertainly.

"How did you contract it, or were you born with it?"

He didn't answer. A pained look crossed his face, and Christabel realized she was being too nosy again. She wondered what had compelled Henry to hire a man with such a debilitating condition.

"I suppose Mr. Creel hasn't mentioned it to you," Kas said, almost apologetically.

"It must have slipped his mind." She was too proud to admit that Henry hadn't mentioned anything much to her at all.

They were quiet for a while, watching the sky and the lake turn the softest shade of lavender, separated by a border of pink edged with gold.

Christabel glanced at Kas curiously. He was younger than she'd thought, not much older than herself, and the dark curls falling over his forehead and the long lashes framing his large eyes made him look even younger. For all his reticence and politeness, he didn't act like a servant or talk like one. Henry had called him his assistant. Again, Christabel found herself wondering how he had come into Henry's employment.

"So, Mr. Kas—" she began, breaking the silence.

"Just Kas, ma'am."

"All right. Kas. Have you been working for Mr. Creel long?"

"Since I could remember."

"Did you grow up with him then?"

Kas's voice was quiet. "No, not really."

His answer surprised her, but it could mean anything—either Kas was younger than he looked, or Henry was older than he looked, or they weren't close enough to qualify as "growing up together"—and she didn't want to pry.

"Is he a good master?" she asked. "Do you enjoy working for him?"

Again, that strange, searching look, before he answered. Christabel was aware that not many people would care if their servants liked working for them, but she was trying to get a clearer picture of the man she'd married and thought it would be best to ask someone who'd known him for much longer than she had. "He has his tempers," Kas said with a shrug. "But he took me in when I had nowhere else to go, so I shouldn't complain."

That didn't quite answer her question. "But is he—"

"Shh!" Kas said suddenly, nodding to their left. "Look!"

Christabel followed his gaze but saw nothing but the surface of the lake, still deep blue where the light hadn't reached it. "What am I looking at?"

Kas took her hand and pointed to a spot somewhere between the water and the sky. "There. Do you see it?"

This time she did—a bird, long and slender, its plumage a shade or two darker than the sky, was gliding over the lake. It landed not far from them, so nimbly and gently that the water hardly even rippled. Now there were two birds, one the perfect mirror image of the other, bending their necks and touching their beaks together, before raising their plumed heads as though to greet the dawn. Then, with a graceful but vigorous beat of its wings, the bird rose from the lake and flew off toward the mountains, while its mirrored image disappeared into the depths of the water.

Christabel didn't know she had been holding her breath until the bird vanished into the distance and she let out a long sigh.

"It's a great blue heron," Kas said.

"I thought most birds have migrated to the south by now."

"Not these. Their nests are in the salt marsh around the lake shore."

"It's beautiful," she said, smiling up at him. This was what she wanted from Henry, just a sharing of all the simple joys and pleasures in life. Wasn't that what husbands and wives were supposed to do? Perhaps she had been too passive, waiting for him to take charge. She should tell him. How would he know what she wanted if she didn't?

She became aware that Kas was still holding her hand. He, too, seemed to come to the same realization, for he immediately dropped her hand and stepped away. "I should head back," he said, clearing his throat. "The sun's coming up now."

Christabel nodded. She should return to her compartment as well, before some early-rising passengers caught her in nothing but a chemise and a robe, holding hands with her husband's servant. The thought burned her cheeks. She walked into the observation car without another word.

They went down the corridor together, Kas walking ahead to open the doors for her. As they passed the clubroom car, loud voices from inside made Christabel pause. "Don't tell me they've been at that damnable poker game all night!" she grumbled.

Kas looked embarrassed. "When Mr. Creel is focused on something, he often loses track of time," he said. "You mustn't mind it."

Christabel huffed. She was taking another step forward when a shout came from the clubroom, "Thompson, for God's sake, put that gun away!" It froze her to the spot.

"Mrs. Creel, don't—" Kas said, but Christabel no longer listened. She threw open the door to the clubroom car.

She was greeted by a bizarre scene, like a tableau vivant that she and her friends sometimes put together back in New York. The clubroom car was shrouded in darkness, all the curtains pulled, the few electric lights shedding an artificial, theatrical illumination over everything. A green-baize table and several chairs lay on their side. Coins and cards were scattered across the carpet. Two men stood facing each other in the center of the car—Henry, still in his suit, looking as cool and unruffled as ever, and another man, Thompson presumably, in his shirtsleeves, wild-haired and wild-eyed, with a smaller revolver in his hand, pointed straight at Henry's heart. All the other men were staying clear of the gun.

Henry barely reacted to Christabel's arrival. Like the other men, he was standing stock still, probably not daring to make a sudden move for fear of setting Thompson off. Thompson, on the other hand, swung around for a second, took note of Christabel, and turned back to Henry with a crazed grin.

"Looks like you got some reinforcements, Creel," he said. "Too bad your wife is not carrying a rifle under her petticoat."

Christabel gripped the doorframe, forgetting even to blush. Behind her, Kas put a gentle hand on her arm, trying to draw her back.

"Kas, please help him," she whispered.

"He'll be fine, Mrs. Creel," he said. "Go back to your compartment. I'll find the conductor."

Christabel stepped away from the door, but Thompson waved the gun at her. "Oh no, you don't, lady," he said without taking his eyes off Henry. "Make a move and you'll be a widow."

"Don't be a fool, Thompson," Henry said evenly, his eyes cold and hard like steel. "What are you going to do, shoot us all and jump off the train? You can't get away with this."

"No, it's you who can't get away with it, you son of a bitch!" Thompson hissed, spittle flying from his mouth. "You can't cheat a man out of his entire fortune and get away with it!"

"Oh, for the love of—" Henry sounded exasperated. "I did not cheat! All these gentlemen could bear witness to that. I won fair and square. Now, give me the gun before you hurt yourself."

He took a step forward, one hand held up, the other slowly extending toward the revolver. With an angry bellow like a branded bull, Thompson jumped out of reach and pulled the trigger.

Chapter 5

A/N: All the stations mentioned in the chapter are real ones, taken from this 1881 timetable of the Union & Central Pacific Railway. The only liberty I took was with "Rough and Ready", which is a real town in California but wasn't actually a stop on the Overland Route, but I like the name so I had to use it here.

The route across the Great Salt Lake is the Lucin Cutoff, which was first used in 1904, a year before the story is set.

#hellcheer #hellcheer fic #hellcheer au #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #henry creel #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #kas!eddie #vampire!eddie munson

8 notes · View notes

fazgoo-connoiseur-1987 · 6 months

Text

oh hey its the most self indulgent thing i can do

#vampire au #hehe hohohehe #fazgoodles #william afton #henry emily #blood #death

23 notes · View notes

klein-sodor-bahn · 7 months

Text

A very late sorta Halloween themed piece

Charlie as a vampire and well she enjoys her daily snack. Although I do have questions for Henry. Like Sir are you alright?!🤨 Charlie meanwhile just goes nom 😂

#ttte human au #ttte humanized #ttte henry #henry the green engine #charlie the onyx engine #henry x charlie💚🖤#akagi’s ocs #ttte gijinka #ttte oc #vampire #human and vampire #Henry my dear you are very sus🤨#Charlie is going nom nom

16 notes · View notes

riderofblackdragons · 7 days

Text

Day 26: Heatstroke

Let's gooooo! I have 3 minutes until midnight, my time, so let's post today's because I'm still on the right day! I had a lot of fun, and a lot of angst, writing this, so I hope you enjoy! And thanks to @crimsonlyinglilly, for being my sounding board whilst i was writing this.

This one's a return to An Original Mother, from the POV of Elijah's youngest son, Henry Hale. His surname is the name I've decided to use for Tatia's child as well, so his name is literally a callback to Elijah's lover's child, and to her youngest brother Henrik.

Hope you enjoy!

As he was dragged into the quarry, Henry felt as though he wanted to cry. His hands were bound, and the pain inside felt like it was ripping him apart, unlike any other full moon transformation he’d ever had. The witch dragging him wasn’t being gentle either, shoving him to the ground once they’d reached her desired destination.

“What did you do to me?” He snarled at her.

He was hungry, he was tired, he was in pain, and above all, he missed his mother. This witch had taken him from his home, where he’d been waiting for her call, and hadn’t even had the decency to answer any of his questions on their way here.

“I cast a spell, to slow down your transformation,” The witch knelt down next to him, although not close enough that he could attack her. “Your insides are trying to tear themselves free,”

Henry frowned at that, ignoring the witch as she moved away, casting a ring of fire around him. He ignored the pain, too, trying to focus on the niggling feeling that something was wrong.

He shouldn’t be in this much pain, he realised. When Henry had been a child, after one of his very first transformations, his brother and mother had worked together, creating a necklace for him. Not one to suppress his wolf, though he knew that both would have preferred that Henry never activated his curse in the first place. Nor did his necklace slow it down, in case that might lessen the pain.

It was a simple thing, big enough to stay around his neck even as a wolf, that was spelled to numb the pain. To reduce the agony of his monthly transformation, so it wouldn’t hurt so bad for him.

Henry grasped at his neck, but his fingers only touched bare skin. His necklace, with all its magical protections, was gone. And for a moment, he felt real fear, even as the pain overwhelmed him again.

There wasn’t even the chain left, to allow him to grasp onto it. He didn’t have anything to remind him of his mother, his family, and it unbalanced him. Henry had never been through a transformation without at least a token to remind him of his mother and brother, although usually his mother was there anyways.

Sobs began breaking free from his body, causing the pain to intensify with each gasping breath. Still, he got himself under control again. This was the witch’s fault.

Because of his little breakdown, Henry knew he’d missed something. The little witch was smiling proudly at a new man, someone who’d recently arrived - and the doppelgänger, Elena Gilbert, was glaring at her.

Henry knew Elena. Of course he did, the whole school did. He’d been friends with her brother Jeremy, before their parents had died, and Jeremy had gone off the rails. The younger Gilbert had pushed Henry away, so Henry had left it, and gone to their other, non-druggie, friends afterwards.

They were both going to die here tonight, Henry suddenly understood. He didn’t know who the vampire was, but he could smell her, and he was sure that it wasn’t a coincidence that here they had the components for the sun and moon ritual his mother had offhandedly mentioned once.

Well, not if he could help it, Henry decided. At first, he thought about targeting the new man. He was clearly in charge, so if Henry put him down, then maybe…

But he looked at the man, and something in Henry recognised something in this man. Klaus, he thought he heard them call him. There was something in his eyes, in his stance, that made Henry think of his mother. She was old, he knew, far older than even his friends’ great grandparents, and she’d never quite hidden it from him or Lukas.

Klaus had that same ancient power, the knowledge that no one could really stand against him, in his eyes.

It was comforting, a little, to see something familiar here. And Henry’s mother had told him and his brother that she had siblings, although she didn’t know where they were. One time, she’d said the bottom of the ocean, but that had to be a joke.

It was also terrifying, seeing his mother’s eyes in this stranger. This man, this vampire, didn’t want to help him, to rock him to sleep when he got nightmares. No, Henry knew, this man wanted to kill him.

So his attention went to the witch. If she died, this Klaus would have to stop his ritual. He’d have to leave, because if there was something Henry remembered about his mother’s old stories, it was that a witch was essential.

Or, well, he hoped that the witch was essential. Henry would have to kill her, either way, even if it didn’t do anything. Better to try, he remembered his mother saying once, and fail, than to never try, and never know if you could’ve succeeded.

So, he started muttering. He’d only have one chance at this.

And he didn’t know if it was his imagination, but Henry swore he heard the witch start to stumble over her words. He kept at it, muttering his own words under his breath, trying not to draw attention to himself as he heated her body up from the inside.

A heatstroke spell. Henry and Lukas had been messing around one day, looking through their mother’s grimoires. They come across it by accident, but their mother had encouraged them to learn it. Elijah had told them they’d be in danger some day, as her children, and as the children of their father, and so she’d urged them to keep at it.

But they’d only ever practised on their mother. Elijah was immortal, after all, truly immortal, and they’d known that she would get back up afterwards, and give them tips on the spell.

This was entirely different. This was Henry using it on a living person, a witch, someone who would most likely die from it.

Still, he kept his eyes on her, continuing the spell under his breath. She was his enemy, after all, and if there was one thing Henry had learned about enemies from his mother, it was that they were to be utterly destroyed, so they could not retaliate.

Sometimes, Henry wondered what kind of a life his mother had lived, that she would tell her sons something like this. And then he would remember how old she was, and that she’d probably had to deal with enemies coming back for vengeance, and he’d shut his mouth.

The witch’s dark skin made it difficult to tell if the spell was working, honestly. Henry could remember what his mother had looked like, under it, but she was a vampire, and fair-skinned besides.

If he squinted, Henry thought that maybe he could see a red flush creeping across her cheeks, but he could hear the way she was tripping over her words more frequently now. Her body swayed, but she held on, and continued, and Henry reluctantly had to admire her resolve to finish this.

Klaus was looking around, as though he was trying to see who was doing this. He didn’t seem to consider that it was Henry, or either of the women in the circles next to the boy. Which was logical, really.

Henry had hidden the witch thing on purpose, at his mother’s suggestion. The werewolf thing was difficult to hide, really, given that he transformed every full moon, and he couldn’t stop it. Comparatively, hiding his magic, only practising when he was sure there wasn’t any non-family members around, was easy.

But there wasn’t anyone around to take the heat, and Henry knew that sooner or later, Klaus would realise that. There wasn’t anyone else around. This was the Quarry, and even the stoners had stopped going here after Vicki Donovan’s death. No one was here.

The pain that he’d pushed to the back of his mind sprung forward, almost making Henry pass out. It definitely stopped his chanting, though, and let the witch go back to her own chanting.

Or not, as the case may be. Henry had been so focused on Klaus, despite the way his eyes had never left the witch he was cursing, that he hadn’t realised she’d collapsed. Collapsed behind her little bowl, which was frustrating. Henry wouldn’t be able to finish her off, now that she was out of his eyesight.

And it seemed Klaus had realised that the mystery witch wasn’t here, as he turned back to his own witch. Or maybe it was just that he realised that said witch had collapsed, and probably wasn’t going to be able to continue the ritual.

Honestly, Henry was hoping it was the second. He hated that he’d taken her life, but he didn’t want to die. He really, really, didn’t want to die, after all.

But Klaus wasn’t as dumb as he appeared, Henry soon found out. The vampire sped down to them, to his three sacrifices, glaring at each of them. His eyes trailed all three, even as Henry finally finished his transformation, fully becoming a wolf now.

And, unfortunately, unable to do witch’s magic. His wolf mouth just couldn’t form the words, and Henry hadn’t ever been all that good at mental spells.

Klaus growled at them, clearly frustrated, before he headed back up the slope to his witch. Henry watched him with a wolf’s eyes, seeing the way Klaus opened up his wrist, dripping blood from it into his witch’s mouth.

A multitude of swears, some in languages he knew were long dead (he’d learnt them from his mother), ran through Henry’s head. The vampire blood would heal her. He was going to die anyways, no matter what he’d done.

And he couldn’t even go back to killing that witch, since his stupid wolf mouth couldn’t shape the words he’d need for it. Briefly, he tried anyways, envisioning the words he needed, trying to push his intent towards the witch, even though he couldn’t speak.

But there was something, at least. It was something his mother had come up, during the full moon. Henry whined, and chuffed, at the witch, feeling his magic taint his own scent.

It wasn’t an exact art, not like it was when he was a human, but it was enough to injure a witch, at least. Henry’s mother had never known another witch-werewolf hybrid, not like Henry, so they’d been purely guessing when she’d come up with the idea, but it seemed as though it was working.

From heatstroke to intense cold, Henry tried to direct his magic to freeze her. She was going to kill him, was all that ran through his head. She’d taken away his gift from his mother and she was going to kill him.

And his magic reacted to it. It was a lot easier, like this, to cool something down, rather than to heat it up, and so Henry reversed his heatstroke spell easily. The witch’s body temperature lowered drastically, and Henry didn’t stop.

A slight whine sent a portion of his magic to his brother, to alert him that something was wrong. Henry didn’t know how to do it as a human - this could only be done when he was a wolf, and it was coming in handy now.

The witch above him was shivering, he noticed. Good. Henry lowered her temperature even more, until she stopped. He still couldn’t quite make out if she was changing colour or not, but he supposed that it didn’t matter. She’d die either way.

But the way Henry could only train his werewolf magic once a month came back to bite him. After all, this was a trained witch, and he had barely 5 years total of training his wolf-magic. He was going to die here, he realised suddenly, when the witch released him from his circle of fire.

His pack bond with his brother indicated that Lukas was getting close, but Henry could tell that it wasn’t going to be enough. Why would things go that way? Still, he ran towards Lukas. If he was going to die, he wanted it to be with at least one of his family members, even if his mother wasn’t here.

It was futile, he knew it deep down. Klaus was a vampire, naturally stronger than a werewolf, and old. Old enough to be able to defeat most vampires, Henry reckoned. But trying to flee was his only option, given everything. This witch wasn’t dying fast enough, but Henry didn’t know any fast-acting spells he could cast on her like this.

He was caught, of course, and caught fast. He’d known he would be. His mother would play with him on full moons, whenever she was in the area, and he’d always have to resort to tricks and hiding to beat her. Speed alone wasn’t enough.

But he’d managed to bite the vampire, at least. A big bite mark, right on Klaus’ shoulder, as the man had grappled him to the ground. He held Henry’s jaw down, after that, as he ripped out the younger’s heart.

Looking up at him, Henry felt like his heart would’ve jumped, if it hadn’t been in Klaus’ hand. Close as they were, he could recognise even more parts of his mother in this man: her nose, the shape of her eyes… His wolf instinctively recognised it; this man was his kin.

And his killer.

“No,” Henry heard a quiet whisper from above, and he rolled his eyes to look at its source.

They didn’t make it, the cold of death already creeping through Henry’s body, but he didn’t really need the visual confirmation. It was his brother, he could tell by the voice. He could smell Lukas’ familiar scent, from so many nights where he’d snuck into the elder’s bed, scared of the dark and not wanting to be alone.

He didn’t like it now, though. It was tainted with the dark smell of grief, like his brother was giving up on him already.

But he had the necklace. Henry’s favourite necklace, the one he loved the most out of their mother’s collection. It seemed to swirl whenever he’d look at it, getting lost in the deep blues of it.

And now, he hoped that this would work. Hopefully, he would now become it, one of its swirls forever.

Henry faintly registered that Klaus had left, not even going after Lukas. Maybe the ritual was more important? He probably assumed that he’d be able to hunt Henry’s older brother down later, before he could tell anyone about what happened.

His paws felt sticky. Henry’s vision started blurring, the colours sliding into each other. It was beautiful, he thought to himself, before it faded to black.

And then, everything was blue.

#tvd #to #the vampire diaries #the originals #elijah mikaelson #female elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #oc - henry hale #greta martin #AU - An Original Mother #whumpay

5 notes · View notes