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Pairing: adoptivemom!Scarlett X vampire!child!reader
Summary: After feeling watched by the shadows while filming in an alleyway, Scarlett finds a young girl living there, cuddling, face hidden in the neck of h a man who looks equally roughed up except– no. That's not cuddling.
Word count: ≈2700
Warnings: brief mentions of blood. i think that's it?
Reading time: ≈14 mins
Type: Oneshot
Scarlett wasn't exactly a usual in the alleys, but a new movie had her constantly in the dark, shady areas.
And the dark, was exactly where she kept seeing...something. Something small, with skin that caught the light strangely, drained and unnatural, eyes that seemed to glow in the right light, staring out at them from the darkness of the night.
Scarlett felt uneasy every time, with every reset she was more and more desperate to get back to the main streets with the big lights and flashing signs, where she didn't feel like danger was lurking in every corner.
The first time she saw you, she was alone, waiting while the crew carried equipment from the van to the alley.
She heard a quiet whine, a small thing stood at the end of the alleyway. Not a full figure, just your legs, really, the rest of you hidden by shadow. Still, short, legs covered by black pants and scuffed boots, unlaced.
Then she blinked, and you were gone, receding back into the night.
________________________________________
The next time Scarlett saw you, she wasn’t alone.
Crew filled the alley this time—lights, wires, people calling back and forth. It should’ve felt safer. Busier. Normal.
It didn’t. She noticed you before she meant to.
A flicker of movement just beyond the edge of the lighting rig. Too fast to follow properly. Too deliberate to be nothing.
Her head turned slightly, eyes narrowing toward the darker stretch of the alley. At first, there was nothing. Then, there. Further back this time. Not as hidden.
You were crouched low near the wall, half in the light, half out of it. Close enough now that she could make out more than just your legs. Small. Too small to be out here alone.
Your clothes hung off you slightly, dark fabric blending into the shadows, but your skin—pale, almost grey under the harsh lighting—stood out just enough to catch her attention.
And your eyes, they reflected the light wrong. Not like glass. Not like normal.
Sharper. Brighter. Almost— Scarlett blinked. And you were looking straight at her. Not at the crew. Not at the lights. At her. Her stomach twisted.
There was no curiosity in your expression. No mischief. No recognition. Just stillness. Like you were waiting. Watching.
Someone brushed past her shoulder, breaking the moment. “Hey, we’re ready for reset,” one of the crew called.
Scarlett didn’t answer straight away. Her gaze flicked back to where you’d been. Empty. Again.
She swallowed, forcing her shoulders to loosen as she turned back toward the set. “Yeah,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “Got it.”
But her focus didn’t come back as easily this time. Between takes, her eyes kept drifting. To the same spot. To the same shadows. Waiting to see if you’d come back.
You didn’t. Not that night. But the feeling didn’t leave. If anything, it got worse.
Because now she knew she hadn’t imagined it. And whatever you were, you were watching her just as much as she was starting to look for you.
________________________________________
The third time, she ended up walking past the same dark alley she had been filming in to get to her car.
As she glanced down into the darkness, by the wall under the moonlight, a child sat, face buried in someone's neck.
Scarlett felt her heart ache at the sight of that familiar child. In ripped, dirty clothes, matted hair and dusty cheeks, snuggling into the neck of a man, just as disheveled as you.
For a second, just a second,it looked almost gentle. Like you were hiding. Like you’d found someone safe.
Her steps slowed without her meaning them to, heels quiet against the pavement as she drifted closer to the mouth of the alley. “Hey—” she started, voice softer than she expected, not wanting to startle you.
You didn’t react. Didn’t pull away. Didn’t look up. Something about that felt… wrong.
Scarlett’s brows pulled together slightly, her gaze sharpening as she took another step forward. The man’s posture wasn’t right. Too still. Too slack. “Kid?” she tried again.
That’s when you moved. Not away. Not startled. Closer.
Your shoulders shifted, pressing further into him, and Scarlett caught the angle of your face as it turned just slightly, and the dark smear along your mouth. Running down his neck. Her breath caught.
For a second, her brain didn’t catch up. Didn’t want to. Tried to piece it together into something else. Anything else.
“You—” she started, but the word died in her throat. Because the man didn’t move. Not even a flinch. And you froze.
Slowly, like you’d just realized she was there, your head lifted from his neck. Your eyes found hers instantly.
Too bright. Too sharp. Too aware. There was no confusion in them. No innocence. Just…caught. Like a stray animal mid-step.
Scarlett’s heart slammed against her ribs, a cold rush flooding her chest—but her feet didn’t move. She didn’t run. Couldn’t.
Because underneath the blood, underneath the wrongness of it all, you still looked like a kid. Small. Thin. Clothes hanging off you like they didn’t belong to you.
Your lips parted slightly, like you were about to say something—but nothing came out. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, you bolted. Too fast.
One second you were there, the next you were gone, disappearing deeper into the alley like you’d never been there at all. Scarlett stumbled forward a step without thinking. “Wait—!”
Nothing. Silence swallowed the space you’d left behind.
Her chest heaved slightly as she stood there, staring into the darkness, her pulse loud in her ears. After a second, she forced herself to move—toward the man. “Hey. hey, can you hear me?” she asked quickly, crouching beside him.
He groaned faintly. Alive. Relief hit her just as fast as the fear had. Her gaze flicked back to the alley. Empty.
But now she knew. This wasn’t just something watching from the dark. This was real. And whatever you were, you were out here alone.
________________________________________
The fourth time, Scarlett doesn’t wait for chance. She comes back.
Same street. Same alley. Later than she should be out, long after filming has wrapped and the city has thinned into something quieter, colder.
It’s stupid, maybe. Coming back alone. No crew. No security. No real plan.
But she can’t shake it. The image of you, small, shaking, bolting like something hunted instead of something dangerous. So she stands at the mouth of the alley for a second, just looking in.
“Hey,” she calls, not too loud. Not sharp. Just enough to carry. “Kid?”
Nothing.
Just the distant hum of the city and the faint drip of something further inside. Scarlett exhales slowly, stepping in anyway.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” she adds, quieter now, like that matters. Like you’re even here to hear it.
A few steps in, her eyes adjust. There.
Further back this time. Tucked between a dumpster and the wall, where the shadows sit thickest.
You’re there. Not moving. Not hiding properly either. Just there.
Scarlett slows immediately, hands lowering slightly at her sides, like she’s approaching something fragile instead of dangerous.
“Okay,” she murmurs, more to herself than you. “Okay, I see you.”
You don’t respond. Up close, it’s worse.
You look smaller than she remembered. Thinner. Your clothes hang off you more than before, fabric wrinkled and worn. There’s dirt smeared along your arms, dried and layered like it hasn’t been washed off in days.
And your face, there’s no blood this time. Just exhaustion.
Your eyes still catch the light wrong. Still too bright. Still not human. But they’re not sharp now. They’re dull.
Your back presses into the wall slightly as she takes another careful step forward.
“Hey,” she says again, softer now. “It’s me.” A pause.
Your head tilts just a fraction, like you do recognize her, but you’re not sure what that means.
Scarlett crouches slowly, lowering herself to your level instead of standing over you.
“I’m not gonna come any closer,” she adds, stopping a few feet away. “Alright?”
You don’t answer. But you don’t run either. That feels like something.
Her gaze flicks over you again—taking in the way your arms are wrapped around yourself, the slight tremor she hadn’t noticed before.
“You… eaten?” she asks carefully.
The question sits there. Heavy. Your expression shifts, just slightly. Not defensive. Not guilty. Just uncertain.
“…I’m not hungry,” you mumble.
Too quick. Too familiar. Scarlett’s chest tightens. “Yeah,” she says quietly. “I figured you might say that.”
She doesn’t push it. Not like that.
Instead, she reaches slowly into her bag, movements deliberate enough for you to track. You tense immediately, shoulders pulling tighter—but you don’t bolt.
She pulls out a water bottle first. Sets it down on the ground between you. Then something small, wrapped. Food. She slides it forward just a little.
“You don’t have to take it,” she says. “Just… it’s there.”
Your eyes flick down to it. Then back to her. Suspicion. Confusion. Something else underneath it, something younger.
Scarlett swallows slightly, keeping her voice even. “You don’t have to run either.”
That lands. Because she saw you do it. A beat passes.
“Can't...eat that,” you tell her, raspy.
Scarlett leans back slightly on her heels, giving you a little more space without leaving. “You got a name?” she asks after a moment.
Silence. Then, hesitant, uou give it.
It sounds strange in your own mouth. Like it hasn’t been used in a while. Scarlett nods once, like that matters. Like you matter. “That’s a good name,” she says quietly.
Another pause. Slow. Careful. Still watching her.
Still expecting something to change. It doesn’t. She just stays there.
Grounded. Steady. Close enough that you’re not alone, but far enough that you don’t feel trapped. After a minute, she adds, softer “You don’t have to stay out here, you know.”
Your hands still. Your head lifts slightly. Scarlett doesn’t push it further. Not yet. Just lets the idea sit there between you.
Warm.Unfamiliar. Possible. And for the first time since she saw you in that alley, you don’t disappear.
“No...where else,” you comment quietly.
“I've got a guest room. You could stay with me, if you like.” she replies carefully, her gaze briefly fixated on your sharp canines as you talk.
You don't reply.
“Well...I'm heading home now. You're welcome to come. If not...I suppose I'll see you when I'm filming tomorrow, huh?” she smiles lightly, standing up again.
As she turns away, “wait.”
Your little, raspy voice calls out. “Don' leave...please.”
Her heels stop clicking away, turning to face you. “Come on,” she tells you gently, holding out her hand for you. “We'll figure something out for you. Even if I have to become a murderer or something.”
You almost laugh a little at that, and Scarlett smiles, her hand gently around yours.
________________________________________
Scarlett's house is quiet.
Not the kind of quiet you’re used to.
Not the kind that presses in too close, where every sound feels like something waiting to happen. This quiet is softer. Warmer. It hums instead of echoes.
You hover just inside the doorway, not fully stepping in. Your hand is still loosely wrapped in hers, but your feet have stopped moving.
Scarlett notices immediately.
She doesn’t tug. Doesn’t pull you further inside. Just pauses, glancing back at you over her shoulder. “Hey,” she says gently. “You’re okay.”
You don’t answer. Your gaze flicks around instead—taking in everything without really focusing on anything. Too clean. Too open. Too… safe. It doesn’t feel real.
Scarlett slowly lets go of your hand, not all at once. Like she’s giving you the choice to stay or bolt. “You can look around if you want,” she adds, stepping a little further in herself. “Nothing’s gonna jump out at you. Promise.”
A beat.
You take one step. Then another.
Slow. Careful. Like the floor might give out beneath you.
Scarlett watches without staring, moving ahead just enough to give you space while still keeping you in sight. “Kitchen’s through there,” she gestures lightly. “Living room’s… here. And—” she hesitates slightly, like she’s not sure how much to say at once, “—you can take the guest room. Or the couch. Or… wherever you feel okay.”
Wherever you feel okay. The words sit strangely in your chest. You don’t remember the last time anyone said something like that to you.
“...I'm getting hungry...” you whisper.
Scarlett stills slightly at your words.
Not visibly. Not in a way that would make you panic. But there’s a shift. Because she knows now what that means.
Her gaze flicks to you. really looks this time. At the way your shoulders have gone tighter again. The way your hands curl slightly at your sides like you’re bracing for her to react badly.
For her to tell you to leave. For her to be afraid. She doesn’t.
“Okay,” she says instead. Calm. Steady.
Like you’d just told her you were hungry for anything else. You blink at her. That wasn’t what you expected.
Scarlett exhales softly, running a hand through her hair as she thinks for half a second. Not panicking. Not backing away. Just… adjusting.
“Alright,” she mutters, more to herself now. “We’ll figure this out.”
Your eyes don’t leave her. Waiting.
Scarlett turns slightly, grabbing her keys from the counter again. Then she pauses, glancing back at you. “You—uh…” she hesitates, choosing her words carefully. “You okay to stay here for a bit?”
You don’t answer straight away. Your gaze drifts toward the door. Then back to her.
“…you’ll come back?” you ask quietly.
That hits harder than anything else so far. Scarlett doesn’t even hesitate this time. “Yeah,” she says, firm. Certain. “I will.”
A small pause. Then, softer, “I promise.”
You nod faintly. It’s enough. She gives you one last look, checking, making sure you’re not about to bolt before heading for the door.
“I won’t be long,” she adds. Then she’s gone.
The house feels… different without her. Still quiet. Still warm.
But now there’s something else sitting under it. Hunger.
It creeps in slow at first. A dull ache. Then sharper. Your teeth press slightly against your lower lip without you meaning them to. Your hands curl tighter. You pace once. Twice. The space is too big. Too open.
Your gaze flicks to the windows. The door. The hallway. Easy exits. Easy escape. But you don’t move. Because she said she’d come back.
The door opens faster than you expect.
Scarlett steps in, a little more hurried than before, keys still in her hand. Her eyes find you instantly. You’re still there. Relief flashes across her face. quick, but real.
“Hey,” she breathes out, shutting the door behind her.
Your attention drops to her hands immediately. To the bag. Scarlett notices. Of course she does.
“Okay,” she says softly, stepping a little closer—but not too close. “I… wasn’t exactly sure what to get.”
Honest. Careful.
She sets the bag down on the counter, opening it slowly so you can see. “Hospital was the safest bet,” she admits, glancing at you briefly. “Figured they’d have… something usable.”
Inside, sealed packs. Blood bags. Your breath catches slightly.
Scarlett watches your reaction closely, her voice lowering just a fraction. “I didn’t know how much you’d need,” she adds. “So I just—got a few.”
She doesn’t push them toward you. Doesn’t force. Just makes them available. Your feet move before you fully decide to. Slow. Careful.
You stop a few steps away, eyes fixed on the bag like it might disappear. “…for me?” you ask, quieter than before.
Scarlett’s expression softens. “Yeah,” she says simply. “For you.”
There’s no hesitation in it. No disgust. No fear. Just fact. Your hand lifts slightly. Pauses. Then reaches for a bag, smiling a little.
