Rewarded
Pairing: Florian x GN!Reader Word Count: 2k TW: blood?, florian is a little bit of a yandere creep of course, but its mostly a good time, no beta reading we spit words out and pray to whoever listens note: sorry to my other wips. bloodlust consumed me. we will spin the wheel another day
You don't know how long you've been running for, every tree a repeating pattern, narrowly dodging branches and rocks and just barely managing to keep from stumbling over flat onto the ground. You would not be able to afford such a mistake, for your life and for your pride as one of the best vampire hunters in your clan.
So if you were the best, why were you running?
You can't stop to think about that, can't dwell on it lest it slow you down for just enough time to get caught between the claws and fangs of the abomination chasing you down. In the privacy of your own head, you curse that informant for giving you such misleading information, causing you to be so, so unprepared, but you curse yourself too for not doing even more research, for underestimating your opponent. How was this situation your fault anyways? You were expecting blood sucking parasites, not a fucking werewolf. Now the price for that information could very well be your life.
Your ankle snags around a concealed branch and the world spins around you. Not so distantly, you hear what sounds like the delighted howling of the monster. You're quick to change your stance from rolling to something more prepared, ignoring the stinging pain of new wounds and the ache of bruises sure to come later, a stake held in your hands though you wished desperately for something made of silver, eyes focused on the approaching figure and ears straining to hear any other sound. Yet, there are no accompanying howls, and you can't help but be secretly grateful. A lone wolf. How incredibly rare.
Still, you refuse to let your guard down. The beast comes closer and closer, bottles worth of saliva dripping from its jaws, growling as it approaches…
It pounces. Your grip tightens.
Just before you could swing, the beast switches directions to the side—wait, no, that isn't right. Something tackles the beast to the side, crashing it into the trees. You hear the sickening sound of flesh being torn apart, skin stretching until it rips, and the agonized howl of the werewolf’s screams. Through the spray of blood, you manage to make out a figure more human than a beast, and yet not quite so human all the same. Familiar. A vampire.
Eventually the vampire slows, the werewolf that chased you a barely recognizable mass of flesh, bones, and gore on the ground, the trees—on the vampire that saved you. No, let’s get that right. On the vermin that merely found something more fun to tear apart. But now that the fun is over…
He turns to you. You tense instinctively, but your legs refuse to listen no matter how much you silently beg yourself to attack him and hunt down a vampire, just like you were trained to do, but you realize that you actually recognize this guy.
“Florian,” you say, tone falling flat from a mixture of emotions ranging from shocked, annoyed, relieved. You try not to feel too disgusted at yourself with how thankful you are that it’s him and not anyone else. You’re not sure how you would feel if Sofia, or god forbid Nikolas found you first.
“S… sorry. Did I… take too long?” The vampire asks, a voice too soft for the manic look in his eyes, wiping his bloody cheeks with an even bloodier arm and only managing to succeed in smudging the red specks across his face. “I wanted… to let you handle it but then… well…” he trails off, glancing to the side. He giggles. “Yeah. You know the rest.”
“It’s alright,” you speak an honest lie, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly despite the way your hands tremble with leftover adrenaline. A silence falls between you two while you try to figure out what to do or say next, and you watch how he begins to rock back and forth on his feet, picking at the cuticles and dead skin (what isn’t dead?) on his hands, moving to scratch at the dirty bandages on his arms, on his neck—
Ah. He’s waiting for something isn’t he? You barely manage to keep yourself from sighing out loud, but you can’t help but feel… amused. Endeared? It’s complicated.
You take a moment to mentally prepare then stretch your arms out. The start of his name just barely manages to leave your lips before you’re practically tackled to the ground, the sound of leaves and twigs being crushed beneath your combined weight just barely managing to cover up the sound of wet, bloody clothes being squished between you two. You momentarily think about the stake still gripped in your hand, but you’ve long since gone past the point of wondering about his reckless behavior.
“I missed you,” he mumbles into your neck, practically purring as you pet the back of his head. “We saw each other a few days ago,” you say in mock exasperation. He stiffens for a moment before relaxing again, but considering he’s fully pressed against you, you notice.
“... Florian,” you say for the second time that night. “We saw each other a few days ago, right?”
He’s silent for too long. “...Yes,” he lies, and then, “...No. I mean—I knew you were busy… so I didn’t… I mean you didn’t even know… so I did good, right?” Oh, the almighty heavens above, what are you going to do with this guy? Your hands pause momentarily and he panics. “I… saved you tonight… right? So—well—if I wasn’t… I just missed you. That’s—that’s all. And if I didn’t then…” He buries his face further into your neck. “You’d be like that… wolf… and that would be bad, right?” Florian almost giggles as he says it, a hysterical sort of sound. “I did… good, right?”
“Yes,” you sigh. Deep inside, you were grateful for his interference even if your pride was wounded for it, and that one simple word seems to make him completely melt once more. “Oh, good. Thought you would be mad at me, dewdrop,” he giggles, tilting his head to the side and pressing his cheek against your collarbone. “Does this mean… I could get a reward?”
A reward? You think for a moment, ignoring the way his breath brushes against your skin. It wasn’t a bad idea, and at least in this way, you wouldn’t feel like you owed him anymore. For this, at least. “Alright,” you agree, and he quickly raises himself off of you in surprise, hands pressing on either side of your head. “Really?” he cheers. “Can I pick? Oh, wait sorry, you… you choose.” And honestly when he speaks like that, you can’t help but want to tease him.
Still laying on the forest ground, you leave your stake on the ground and reach your hands up to touch his cheeks. “I know,” you muse, wiping the drying blood away. “You can have a bit of my blood.”
You swear you hear his already dead heart stop. Florian blinks rapidly, mouth wide open in shock before he quickly closes it to keep the drool in. He tries to pull away, but there’s barely any effort in it considering how little he moves with how gently you hold him. “Hunter,” he whispers breathlessly. “You… shouldn’t say that so carelessly, you know…?” “I know.” You dig your grave further, running a thumb over his lip and gently pressing into his fangs. He jerks away but returns back to his position just as quickly. “But it’s just a little bit. As a reward.”
“Really?” he hesitates. “Really,” you confirm.
There’s a pause. The wind washes over you both, carrying the smell of nature and death. Florian takes a shaky breath, his dilated pupils glimmering in delight as he zeroes in on your bare skin. “You’re… sure?”
“Yes, Florian, I’m sure—ah!” You’re interrupted halfway through your sentence when Florian abruptly leans straight down towards your neck, puncturing your skin with his fangs. The area around it begins to feel a little numb, pulsing with the warmth of your blood. You bite your lip a bit and try not to cringe (or blush) at the sloppy sounds of his drinking, each wet lick brushing over your skin, the sound of saliva and blood mixing together and you swear you hear him sigh in delight in between it all.
For a few moments, you simply exist together on that forest floor, staring at the light of the moon peeking in through the trees and enjoying the cool air… but eventually, you begin to feel the effects, your skin growing colder and your head beginning to float. You give a gentle tug on his hair. He whines — not from pain, but disappointment — lingering for another second before finally pulling back, lips red and wet. His eyes search yours, delight and anxiety swirling around in an odd mix.
"Too much?" he asks.
You nod slightly, but your expression stays even. “Yeah,” you admit, voice quiet but firm. “Any more and I’d be pissed.”
Florian stares at you, blinking slowly, and then smiles. Not the unhinged one — the softer, hesitant one that rarely sticks around for long. “But not dead,” he says, almost like he’s checking.
You snort. “You know I’ve had worse. You just caught me off guard.” You sit up carefully, brushing leaves from your shoulder, ignoring the dull ache at your neck and the slight throb behind your eyes. “I wouldn’t have let it get that far.”
He watches you like he doesn’t believe that, and neither of you mention the initial time you had met each other, truly met each other, and any of the events that followed. But you know your limits, usually. Most of the time. You just… tend to push it a bit too far every now and then. And so far, you’ve only technically died once. It’s not a bad win ratio, all things considered.
Florian rolls off of you and lays sideways, knees tucked and curled a little beside you. “You’re so… confident, dewdrop,” he mutters softly, then giggles. “I wonder what would have happened if I let you be then. A moment ago.”
“I didn’t need saving.” You watch him pout. “But to be honest, I’m glad it was you.”
He stares at you with genuine surprise, like even after all this time he can’t fathom the idea of you being any sort of kind to him, which is honestly ridiculous, but he says nothing in response and instead just grins wide. You swear there are hearts in his eyes. You pretend not to notice.
The silence settles again. The trees creak. The air buzzes with the leftover energy of violence and companionship, and beneath it all, Florian’s breathing—slow, steady, almost human but not quite so.
After a while, you move to sit up, ignoring the dizzy sway of your head and brushing off the bugs that began to crawl over you. “We should move. Wolves usually come in packs, it’s weird enough that this one was alone.”
He hums, but doesn’t move from his position. “No. That one was alone. I checked.”
You turn to glance at him, frowning. “You really were following me.”
“Always,” he says simply, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like if it came from anyone else it would be absolutely insane and creepy and weird. And yet from Florian, it is so perfectly him that you can’t even be mad.
You sigh again, this time out loud. "Of course you do." And yet, despite it all, you can’t help but feel… charmed.
Must be the blood loss.
You look at him then. The blood on his face. The strange brightness in his eyes. The absolute ruin of the werewolf’s corpse behind you. “Alright,” you start, getting up onto your feet and brushing off the dirt. “Let’s check the perimeter one more time then clear this up.”
“Do we have to right now?” he asks.
“Yes,” you say. “We have to.”
“But this was so nice,” he insists softly. “We should do this again sometime.”
You snort. Sure, the next time you get chased to almost death by a werewolf, you’ll make sure to call him in and spare some time to lay on the forest ground and let emerging worms and maggots crawl over you for fun.
Let Florian crawl over you and take a bite for fun.
“Sure,” you agree. “Some other time.”