The woman who gets ignored by Patrick Zweig through their entire date, is left alone while he chases down his ex, and still fucks him when he offers the slightest bit of attention is the most relatable character ever put to film.
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You and Joey had always been a package deal—inseparable, shoulder to shoulder, like two halves of the same heartbeat. The precinct knew it, the perps knew it, hell, even the coffee guy on the corner knew it. Nothing and no one could wedge themselves between you.
It hadn’t started that way. You were just another detective on his radar—until that case. The one where you stood your ground for him in front of the captain, voice steady, eyes daring anyone to contradict you. That was the moment. You didn’t notice, but Joey did. That night, he asked you out, awkward and grinning like he already knew you’d say yes.
Now, here you were. Joey lounged against his headboard, legs stretched out, watching you with that unguarded softness he’d never admit to anyone else. You sat cross-legged on his bed, flipping lazily through a stack of case files you’d already read twice, feigning boredom. Every now and then you’d toss him a comment, and he’d roll his eyes like you were the most irritating person alive— while looking at you like you were his whole world.
The room hummed with the quiet comfort you’d built together. Then, out of nowhere, he broke it.
“Thanks for the memories, even though they weren’t so great,” he said, his voice low, quoting the song you’d once told him you couldn’t stop listening to when you first met.
Your lips twitched. He was hopeless. Completely gone for you. And somehow, you still managed to be oblivious half the time.
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and i whisper in your ear, "i want to fucking tear you apart."
dark vampire! stanford art donaldson x reader
warnings: blood, smut, kinda vaguely dubcon themes (he drinks her blood), violence, general vampirism idk, this is so freaked out, dacryphilia, voyeurism, stalking mention, art is a little freak, lowkey dom/sub dynamics but it's really just bc of the power imbalance, kinda not much plot, lowkey stockholm syndrome, soooo many pet names, mentions of murder (not reader) lmk if i missed anything!
wc: 1.2k
notes: this came to me in a vision (the fall menu at sbucks and the temp dropping to 70) twilight and challengers will never die
art didn’t mean to fall in love with you, really, honestly. you were just so sweet, so naive! you didn’t even notice, didn’t bat an eye, when he followed you between classes, or when he slipped between shadows on your walk home from the bars at night, your friends left behind. you slept too soundly to know when he perched at your window, eyes dark, mouth practically watering at the sight of your chest rising and falling, pulse thrumming in your neck as you dreamt. he didn’t want to hurt you. really, he’d never let anyone hurt you, wouldn’t even let them think of it. your ex, for example. he’d gotten a little too bold, a little comfortable dragging your name through the dirt. when he'd disappeared, turning up mauled by an animal (so insane for stanford!), you'd sobbed, all alone in your bedroom. the next day, though, it was as if nothing had happened. art wondered what that meant, if maybe you were over him, or maybe if you were over him you'd never have cried at all. he didn't know, really, but he knew you were at least moved on enough not to be hung up on it, and that was good enough for him.
soon enough, you were his girl, his love, his sweet, bright eyed angel, his salvation. he’d lured you in with a sharp tongue and cloying words, and you’d fallen for it, just like he knew you would. he knew everything he needed to, really; how you liked your coffee, how you cried when you thought no one was around to see it, how your good girl act fell apart when you were all alone at night, hands beneath your blankets. he knew the exact right thing to say and do, to get you to melt for him, to be his and his only. it was easy, like he knew it would be, and he couldn’t be happier. especially on nights like tonight, when you knew his appetite had been building, and his sweet girl would do anything to make him feel better. that’s how he got you in his favorite position, writhing around beneath him, pink cheeked and red lipped, alive, full of fresh, beating blood.
“just need a little bit, sweet girl,” he murmured, dragging his lips along your thrumming vein, “look so pretty for me. you’re close, aren’t you?” he had been plying you, getting you all worked up and vulnerable. your blood tasted so much sweeter when he’d gotten you excited and desperate, his fingers thrusting in and out of you, making a mess of his sheets. “ngh- yes, close,” you practically mewled, eyes rolled back, “can take what you need, ‘s okay,” “aw, baby,” his canines grazed your skin, “i know i can. just want my pretty thing to ask me, that’s all,” “please,” you managed, nearly falling apart, “want you to drink me, art, please,” “good girl,” he whispered, voice hoarse as his restraint finally snapped, his fangs piercing your neck. “oh!” you gasped, nails digging into his pale arms as you came, the pain from the bite only swirling with the pleasure, melting you into a delirious mess. he held you as he drank, only pulling himself away when he could hear your whimpers, tears staining your cheeks.
“was that too much, angel?” he cooed, pulling away, your blood painting the scene. it dripped from his lips, down his chin, covered his sheets and soaked into your neatly curled hair. “i’m okay,” you insisted, though you sniffled slightly. “so beautiful when you cry, my darling girl,” he murmured, lips trailing over your bare chest, biting just enough to draw tiny beads of blood to the surface. he leaned between your parted thighs, fingers dragging through the mess he made, bringing them to your lips, “have a taste, sweet girl,” you parted your lips, swirling your tongue around the crimson liquid, distracted as he pushed inside of you. you bit down on his finger in surprise, only slightly, but enough to make him scold you, even as his voice shook with pleasure. “so good,” your tears beaded up again, threatening to spill over, “love your cock so much, artie, you take such good care of me,”
“i know it, sweetheart,” he hummed, watching as you trembled, your blood drying slightly, “take it so good f’me. perfect, like you were made for it,” he knelt closer, thrusting slowly, hands trailing all over the planes of your skin. “can you give me some more, my love? be a good girl for me?” “yes,” you nodded, quick and frantic, “of course,” “that’s my girl,” he smiled, teasing and demeaning, light catching on his fangs. he buried his face in your neck, going straight back to the two pin prick bites he’d already left, moaning against you as he drank. you went weaker in his arms, gasping and whining, spasming around his cock as he drew another orgasm from you. “fuck,” he groaned into your skin, lapping at you, getting any last trace of blood he’d missed, “oh, baby. you have the sweetest pussy, y’know that? i should- fuck, i should turn you right now, keep you forever n ever,”
he pounded into you, his grip undoubtedly forming bruises on your hips, his name falling languidly from your lips as you clung to him. “you want that, hm? want me to make you like me?” he panted, watching as you nodded lazily, eyes meeting his, pupils swallowing your irises whole. “so close,” he groaned, eyes trained on your spit slick lips, “here, angel, here,” he brought his own wrist to his mouth, biting down hard, wincing just slightly as blood, mostly your own, flowed from the wound, “come on, sweet girl, quick. gotta drink f’me,” he moaned, hoarse and rough, as he felt you suck from the wound, greedy and desperate. “good girl,” he managed, teeth grit as he neared the edge, “oh- yeah, that’s it, take it,” he came with a strangled groan, fucking you full, your mouth still latched to him. “enough, angel,” he said after a moment, tapping your cheek with his free hand, “can’t give you too much, now,”
he pulled out, gentle and slow, collapsing beside you, chest heaving, “you feel good, my love? you feel my blood running through here?” he traced your vein down to your heart, tapping lightly, “so pretty, so good for me. gonna look even more beautiful after you change,” he kept such good watch over you as you turned, never leaving your side, never abandoning you. you were sick for a brief period, but he knew it would all be worth it eventually. you’d be strong, just like him. you’d live forever, side by side, just like he always wanted. he never strayed, never worried if it was worth it, never second guessed himself or the love the two of you shared. the fifth night, you woke with a start, lips parted and dry, and he was at your side in an instant. you grabbed for him, eyes shooting open, and he saw it then; red irises, still pulse. his pretty, perfect, undying girl.
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