I Will Be Your End pt. 2
Vampire!Abel Morales x Vampire!F!Reader x Vampire!Fontaine x reader
Oscar Isaac x Reader x John Boyega
MDNI // Part One // Explicit // warnings: descriptions of blood l, gore, mention of abuse, fantastical non con but no R word or SA // masterlist
“I think you’ve made up your mind.” Shante said sadly.
“I think I have.” You added with finality.
At that moment Abel and Ghezo walked in.
Abel was still upset, but his anger had subsided.
You rushed over to him. Cupping his face and looking into his eyes.
“I’m fine.” He sighed and patted your hand on his cheek before slowly lowering it, not letting go. He clasped your hands tighter together as they fell by your sides.
“I think it’s time we made our leave.”
Leto nodded, and you both left. Hand in hand.
The crowd had died down, but the music was still thumping. The bass booming as you got your coats at the door.
Abel skipped the vallet and you both walked. Where you were going you didn’t know. You couldn’t bring yourself to care either.
The moon was a crescent. A small sliver of white and silver, the air unforgivably cold. Abel let you clasp your arm in his as you both faced the night together.
“You’re planning to kill him?” He asked calmly. Like he wanted to know what you wanted for dinner.
“I am.”
He nodded, bouncing his head from side to side, weighing the pros and cons in his head.
“If you kill him, I can’t have you stay with me.”
He stopped walking, and so did you.
You looked into his eyes. What once brought you warmth was now chilling you to the bone. The moon is a far away thing. The sun may give it a glow, but it’s just dark rock far away in space for no one to see, but even then did it have an even colder, darker side.
“I guess that’s how it will be then.”
Abel’s jaw clenched. Closing his eyes, he turned away from you for just a moment.
When he opened them, he also opened his mouth to reply, but then he froze.
“Wh—“
“— they’re still on your neck?”
You scrunch your eyes in confusion. “What are you—“
“— why are they still on your neck?” Abel raised his voice. “The- where he bit you! Why are the holes still on your neck? Every other wound, scar, or bruise will heal as soon as you want it to, but you hold on to these?” He seethes at you, grabbing your arm.
You paused.
“Oh.”
“Answer me!” He hissed. His eyes were glowing, frantic and crazed as he looked at you.
You wanted to run your hands through his hair.
“I was thinking about looking at them in the mirror. I didn’t know I could control whether they stayed or not.”
He bristled, not exactly calming down, but he didn’t get angrier either.
“Do you know what I’ve been thinking this whole time?”
You shook your head. Not wanting to interrupt him.
“I can’t get the image of you and another vampire out of my mind. How you looked at him and how he looked at you! How you let his hands touch every inch of you and how you clearly wanted to touch every inch of him. His mouth on your skin!”
He threw his hands up. Taking a step away from you before whirling to face you once more.
“As soon as we stepped outside I wanted to drag you into that alley!”
“Abel—“
“Shut up!” He pushed you Into the wall of whatever building you two were in front of.
“I wanted to bite over whatever holes you wouldn’t let go of until they were ripped and raw. I wanted to compel you to not let them heal, so I could watch the ripped holes of your flesh bleed out and out. The tender meat of your neck and collar mangled by my mouth and my mouth alone.”
He was panting now. His voice softer.
“I wanted to erase him from you and claim you as my own. . . But you’d hate me for it. You would have never forgiven me, and vowed to kill me just like you do this other vampire called Fontaine.”
You watched his eyes frantically search your face as his chest heaved up and down.
“You’re right.” You swallowed. “I would have.”
You slowly raised your hand to his cheek and he nuzzled into your hand, briefly touching it with his lips. Tentatively, you brought it to his hair.
With a smile you sighed.
His hair was so soft. It was softer than anything you could have imagined. He closed his eyes as you ran your fingers through his hair over and over again, savoring the feeling.
“Thank you.” You whispered softly.
He opened his eyes. Much calmer now.
“Anytime.” The cold air made his breath visible as it fawned into the air over your face.
“I’m not going to stop you. I just want to make sure you really know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I know.” You sighed.
He nodded, stepping away from the building and off of you. He let out a hand to keep you from stumbling back into the sidewalk.
“Let’s go home where it’s warm.”
-
“She said that?” Fontaine swallowed and sat down.
Slick was wincing as he stood, waiting for Fontaine to throw something.
“She did.” Yoyo fiddled with her hands in front of her.
“But did you not hear the other shit I said. About the doppelganger's and prophecy?”
“Now let’s not put the horses first before the carriage just yet. We don’t know for sure if it’s a prophecy.”
“Like hell we don’t!”
“Shut, the fuck, up.” Fontaine glared at them one by one.
“Either way, I think it’s time I go over there and find her before she finds me.”
Yo-yo started talking about what he should and shouldn’t do, and He was sure that Slick opened his mouth to agree with whatever Yo-yo was saying, but Fontaine waved them both off and with a hand walked out the door without saying a word.
He . . . Walked.
To where, he wasn’t sure. He just walked.
Looking at the sky he sighed.
He might have five more hours left of moonlight before he needed to get inside somewhere. That was plenty of time for a head start.
Stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets, he kept walking.
Every other person gave him some sort of smile or greeting. Not aware that he was going to be gone for some time.
Was it this time of night when you left him?
It’s only been a few hours since your tie to the clan was gone. There wasn't a big boom or some large wave of energy. Just a small trickle of something going away, forever.
He can’t let it go out like that.
Everyone had demanded to know why.
Who is this girl Fontaine? Why did you bring her here? Why did you turn her?
He wanted to explain, he tried to, but even Yo-yo didn’t understand, so he just stopped explaining. He stopped talking about it.
He wished he could explain the way his mind was screaming at him, or maybe it was his soul burning, eating him alive from the inside out until he turned you.
An explainable force, or maybe his own selfishness was just that strong,
Fontaine shook his head and sighed.
No point in focusing on the past.
Reaching into his mind he looked over the memories Yo-yo had showed him a week ago of when she followed your path to New York and the trail of bodies you left.
It’s not possible for you to be stronger than him. You had only been turned ten years ago, and you fought the process so hard.
He tugged his jacket a little harder as the chill of the night started to settle further into his bones. His thoughts drifted to the first time he met you.
He remembered seeing you at that party around your friends. A literal light seemed to shine out of you, making you stand out amongst every person.
He couldn't help but stare at you as you bounded to and fro.
Even talking to you felt like a song in his ears. Like you were some witch putting him under a spell. Outside of your own aura, you made him feel seen. Truly and utterly seen.
When he turned he didn’t know what to do, and everything was so hectic and chaotic.
He was turned and had no idea. He remembered how he suffered. How scared and painful it was, but only for one day. He quickly made his way.
But stumbling around town one night, no one missed him. No one asked about him or wondered where he was. His so-called friends only acted as if he’d been shut in his house, keeping to himself for no reason at all.
Only the homeless old man outside the liquor store seemed to notice.
He pushed away the thoughts of everything that came next.
He hated thinking about finding out his life was a lie. That everyone had been turned and compelled to forget, so they can be observed like a big colony of fucking lab rats.
In a large field of grass, there were stray lines of paint and stray pieces of yellow tape.
Yo-yo had pulled up an article saying it was an animal attack. They all knew it was something else.
You were here.
Finding a tree with more than enough shade, he stumbled down underneath it and out his back to the trunk. Looking up, he watched the wind rustle the leaves.
Daylight would come soon.
He closed his eyes, continuing to think of you.
He wished he could take it back. The pain that is.
When he saw you and you talked to him, something in him started screaming.
He knew if he didn’t turn you, the screaming wouldn't stop. The buzzing underneath his skin would grow and grow and drive him crazy until he found you again.
He had to turn you. He didn’t know how or why, but he knew he was supposed to.
As soon as his lips touched your skin, he came to terms with the idea of you hating him. You’d hate him, but you’d still be with him. He could find a way to gain your trust, somehow make amends with you and beg for some type of forgiveness later, but at least he’d have you.
But once he turned you and took you somewhere safe to transition. Before he could even get the chance to make yours less painful and lovely as his, you fought every step of the process. You ended up in a coma, rejecting every little change to your body.
Everyone expected you to die.
But he couldn’t. He didn’t lose hope, he had to hope.
Because accepting a world where he killed you forever to be lost, is not one he could have accepted, so he’d hope.
But now. . .
He sighed.
He’d make it right. He didn’t know how, but by everything on this earth he’d find a way to make it right. There was nothing else to live for. There was no purpose. Everyone in the Glenn was free to do whatever they wanted to do.
So he’d focus his eternity of death, to begging for your forgiveness. . . . you.
On quiet moments like this, if he’d closed his eyes and concentrated on you, he could hear your voice. He could feel your energy.
You thought of him sometimes. He could feel the anger and pain, your fury. But it would pitter out into nothing and then you’d be gone.
“Is he still alive?”
Fontaine didn’t know that voice.
“Yes.” You huffed, closing a book and tossing it to the end of the bed.
“You don’t sound disappointed.”
Fontaine scrunched his brow and frowned.
He wasn’t in the woods anymore. He was in a bed, lying on top of plush cream sheets.
He opened his eyes and saw you.
Your large natural hair and how it fanned across your features and shaped your face. Your big brown eyes and how they seemed to grow bigger with adoration and fondness for the man on the other side of you.
“I won’t say anything to convince you, but you already know how I feel.”
There was another man on the other side of you. Tan skin and a dark head of hair. He looked rich. This bedroom looked like it belonged to a man that could buy the whole Glenn if he wanted.
Someone who doesn’t even know they exist and would probably never give a fuck about them either.
“What would you say to him,” you almost got up, but Abel put a hand on your shoulder, “I’m not telling you to actually do it. I’m just creating a hypothetical question.”
You sighed, and settled back down to the bed, snuggling closer to the strange rich man’s side.
Away from him.
He swallowed and momentarily licked his lips.
“If he was here right now,” Fontaine looked over to him and met his eyes. Briefly flashing an old yellow gold. Fontaine kept the same face, puffing his chest and clenching his jaw a bit, “what would you say to him.”
The had you had comfortably placed on his chest started to grab and squeeze at the fabric of his shirt.
“Why?” You huffed out a breath and sucked it back in a little too quickly, causing your voice to crack and Fontaine’s heart to break. “Why me? Why this way?”
“Fuck you!” You sobbed now, burying your face into his chest. “Fuck you for doing this to me! For taking me away from my family, for ruining my life!”
Fontaine woke up with a start. The air was hot.
The sun glaring just a few feet away from him outside the shade of the tree.
He closed his eyes and pushed away the feelings that were starting to rise within him, ignoring that he had no idea how to make this right.
-
Fontaine’s eyes snapped open at the smell of blood. The chill of his own power coursed through his veins. The cold tendrils of his magic was something he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to.
But it was fitting.
Before he ever had an ounce of magic, when he didn’t know his entire existence was a lie, he was often accused of icing people out, that he was too cold and rigid, never letting anyone in, that he was standoffish and rigid in his anger and retaliation. . . But that wasn’t true.
He felt a fire growing within him from the moment he saw you.
He’s been chasing the warmth of your glow that basked over him on your first night together. The heat of your skin burning his, reaching far down in his pores and burning his insides.
He was a moth and you were his flame.
As he followed the scent of blood the magic in his veins caused his pulse to race faster and he started running.
He didn’t know how. He couldn’t prove or explain it, but he knew you’d be near it. That when he got to the source of the blood, he’d see you.
He just needed to see you.
The trees were getting thicker, and the smell was stronger. He slowed down, stepping carefully in case you decided to run if you saw him. . . Or worse.
The man from the vision thing was there. He was wearing a long wool coat and suit. He rolled his eyes as he remembered the useless details about his wardrobe that Slick went on and on about.
A cigarette loose in between his fingers, he bit into the neck of a young light skinned man. Full figured and thick hair. He could see his face clearly despite how far he was standing. He had his vampire instinct magic bullshit to thank for that.
His heart swelled as he watched you standing to the side. Despite the situation, he smiled.
You were wearing baggy jorts and an oversized Nike shirt, he knew you paid way too much for. If he remembered correctly that was one of your dream pieces of clothing and from the off white cream sneakers you wore, you got your dream pair of shoes to match. You told him you were too scared of baggy clothing. You feared it made you look bigger then you actually were or sloppy or some shit like that.
This man though, this other man you been with had some typa money.
He smacked his teeth.
He could have copped all that and more for you if you let him.
“Wait,” the man held out a hand as you leaned in too close to him and the boy, well boy might too harsh, but Fontaine wasn’t exactly thrilled about your relationship with this stranger and whatever the fuck you were getting up to without him, “take a step back.”
You smacked your teeth and then groaned into the air. The gold in your mouth twinkling underneath the moonlight.
His heart stopped.
You kept them.
The air around Fontaine grew chilly, frost starting to form in the grass and leaves underneath his feet, and it’s not because it was in the middle of winter on the east coast.
“Pleaaase, hurry up Abel.” You begged. “You said I could start feeding again.”
Fontaine didn’t know too much about being a vampire, but he knew the signs of overeating. And you had more than enough over the last few months. It’s too soon to start eating again, but with a strict schedule and guidance, it might not.
Who the fuck does this guy think he is?
Abel paused, taking a step back from the human and gave you a hard look.
“It’s not too late to go home and call it a night.” Taking one last drag from the cigarette in his hand, he put it out on the human’s skin, but instead of protesting or crying out in pain he sounded like he. . . enjoyed it.
Fontaine wanted to be here a little less now.
What kind of freaky messed up shit was this? Did you like this? Are you even into this kinda shit?
“Abel, please.” Your eyes were wide now, pupils so large and black Fontaine swore he could see the moon reflecting off of them. Your lips pouting as your wide button nose scrunched up from the cold.
“You aren’t some fucking wild animal with instincts and a dumb fucking brain. You are a vampire,” Abel growled at you with bared fangs, “act like it.”
He sighed. Balling his fist. “Reach deep down within you, that fucking hunger, that urge to just devour,” he looked into your eyes, hard.
You nodded. Mouth closed.
“Control it. Fight it.”
He bit into the boys next.
The sound of Abel's teeth breaking into his skin sounded like a grape snapping, when he chomped his jaw and sucked the sounds of flesh mushing and wrangling outside of its natural state were the only sounds they could hear, amplified with their supernatural hearing abilities.
He moaned as Abel began to suck the blood from his body, one, two to three seconds before he licked at some of the blood that was rapidly falling out of the gaping gash on his neck.
You licked your lips and swallowed.
“You're doing so well Jay.”
Jay kept his eyes closed. “Really?” He asked meekly, probably unaware of just how much blood was leaving his body.
You gave a pointed look at Abel and he gave you one to match. Fontaine had no idea what was goin on because neither one of you we’re saying anything.
Abel took a few steps over to a tree. Keeping his eyes on you and Jay.
“Wait.” Was all he said.
As the silence stretched in the clearing of the forest, snow began to fall. Decorating the crimson in a backdrop of white.
Abel nodded and you were on Jay in an instant.
Not even thinking of removing your grill, you dove right in. Placing your mouth over the mangled ripped marks on his neck that Abel had left. There was no need for you to have to bite him, but Jay seemed just as satisfied.
“That’s enough.” Abel’s voice was barely above a whisper, but you immediately pulled off of Jay and stopped.
You froze, waiting.
Nothing.
You looked up to Abel with a smile.
“I did it!”
“I told you, you could do it.” He smiled softly, letting out a breath of relief through his nose.
He walked over to you, his footsteps crunching in the snow, and placed a hand on either side of your face, smiling from ear to ear.
You gave him a smile too match and his face faltered for a second.
Then he kissed you.
Fontaine's heart stopped cold as he watched him nudge your mouth open with his as his hands slid up your sides to the back of your neck as his tongue slipped into yours. Hating, how you two seemed to be sharing the taste of Jay’s blood off of one another.
“Wait,” Abel stopped breathlessly, biting his wrist he shoved it a little too quickly and strongly into Jay’s mouth, almost knocking him over. Jay cried out a little but took one suck and shoved his wrist away. “You're alright, son.” Abel patted him on the back as he dry heaved over the snow.
“It’s always so gross!” He sucked in a large breath of air, “every time!”
Fishing his hand into his pocket he gave you a small smile before presenting a large wad of cash towards you.
“T-t-thank you.” He looked at Abel who only stared at him. He wasn’t glaring, but he had a certain way of holding himself that put people off of him. This strange air of polite superiority that intimated in ways people were unfamiliar with.
“I.. better go.” He gave you one more timid smile before waving and stuffing his hands in his now ripped hoodie pockets, trailing away in the snow.
“Are we like, hookers or something? Did he just give us money like in a sex worker way?”
“No,” Abel raised an eyebrow, “he gave you money like a sex worker or hooker.”
You slapped him, biting your cheek to keep from smiling. “We should have taken him home.” Was all you said.
“Hell be fine.” Abel huffed softly, the cold air making his breath form a small white cloud in your face, making you smile even wider.
“Maybe—“
“You been a good bitch for your new master?” Fontaine gave you a crooked cruel smile.
It was one thing to see another man kiss you, but the way you were smiling at him? The way you looked at this other man like he was the world? That you trusted him with everything? When you looked at him as if he was your safe place? That. He could not take.
He was about to yell out how this new man was your new pimp, but he was unprepared with how fast you flung your entire body at him.
He was unprepared for your hands to almost ring around his neck and pop it off his shoulders, but he already had your hands in front of him in an iron grip as he moved to the side and let you grab his arm.
“Huh,” he laughed bitterly in your face, “you really do wanna kill me, huh?”
“And I fucking can too.”
Fontaine wanted to keep fighting you, for you to keep yelling at him because if he couldn’t get you to love him, he’d be happy to have you hate him. Pain or pleasure, happy or sad, at least he was around you.
Your hand hurled toward his face faster than his eyes could naturally perceive so he pulled from his own magic to counterattack, preparing to move just as fast as you, but as time slowed around you two, he could only focus on your face.
Your eyes.
From the corners of your irises, tendrils of purple were swarming the dark natural brown of your eyes, and he froze.
“You’re. . . Purple.”
His words made you miss and stumble.
“What the fuc—“
In a blink, you were gone.
The man in a coat . . . Abel, was the only person left standing in front of him. His chest heaving up and down as he breathed out his mouth. He clenched his jaw before closing his mouth. His gaze was hard and steady.
Fontaine squared his shoulders, but otherwise didn’t move.
“This ain’t about you,” Fontaine fought the urge to bare his teeth, “what we have is between us.”
“Well it becomes about me when a vampire you recently turned comes into my territory claiming it happened without their consent.”
“Aye man. I don’t know wha—“
Abel was on him in an instant. Shoving Fontaine back into the nearest tree, making him cough up blood.
“You’re weak,” Abel spoke through his teeth. Fontaine opened his mouth to say something but Abel only bounced his head off the tree. “I’m not talking about how old you are. I’m talking about how you had one chance to own up to your mistakes and lay everything out on the table with her, but you decided to use petty fucking words instead.”
He looked into Fontaine's eyes, waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, he pushed off of him.
“You’re a childish coward.”
“And you’re better?” Fontaine balled his fist when Abel didn’t reply.
“Just because you’re the first fucking thing she ran into while she was running away doesn’t make you better.”
“I don’t know anything about you to hate you. I can barely determine if I even have the energy to think about you.”
“I could say the same thing about you, moutherfucka.”
Abel leveled Fontaine with a look. He was standing rigid and he could tell he was getting on his fucking nerves but he wouldn’t fight him. Most vampires, witches, or whatever else magic bullshit was out there would have tried to hurt him by now.
“I’m sure we both are more than strong enough to snap one another’s necks, but,” Abel’s eyes flashed an old yellow, “I need you. . . She needs you.”
“That’s not what she said last night.” Fontaine shook his head and sat on the snow.
“And I gave you more than enough time to try and fix that, but you’d rather stumble around throwing petty insults with your tail between your legs.”
“Then how. . . “ Fontaine held up his hands out in front of him before sighing, “how do you know she needs me?”
Abel pulled his coat to the side to put his hands into his suit pockets, the cold starting to get to him.
“It’s a prophecy,” Fontaine’s head snapped up and Abel avoided his gaze, looking unit he sky, “I’m not good with this magic shit, but I know rules and regulations when I see them.”
“Fucking magic. . .” Fontaine muttered.
“Yeah,” Abel smiled weakly before continuing, “there’s three older vampires who look exactly like us, I think you know one.”
“I’m not talking about it.” Fontaine let his legs fall out straight and he stuffed his hands into his jacket.
“Well, we’re destined to be together, any lifetime, any circumstance, and usually as vampires. We apparently can’t live without one another.”
Fontaine nodded.
“And she wants to kill me.”
“She wants to kill you.”
Fontaine and Abel let the silence stretch between them. Watching the snow fall and cover everything in sight. The moon was large and white and it shined down and gave the forest a picturesque glow.
“Her eyes were purple.”
