i see you | armand
pairing: armand x gn!reader
summary: reader is contemplating ending their life. armand shows up. set in 1930s/40s paris but could be read as modern?
warnings: blood, suicidal ideation/thoughts (quite graphic, please don't read if you're in a bad place mentally)
wc: 2.5k
a/n: first armand fic hehe. this man has been living rent free in my head since i watched the show oops. i'm obessed with him. i really hope i captured him ok and i hope you enjoy <33 and if anyone has any armand reqs....... send 'em my way ;)
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One step.
That’s all it would take. One small action to end everything. Your life, everything you’d ever known, the pain, the suffering, the heartbreak – one step to be free from it all. You stared over the side of the building, looming over the precipice of your demise. It’s strange how the brain reacts in situations like these. The dichotomy of self-preservation. So unwilling to let you throw yourself from a roof, while simultaneously overflowing your mind with thoughts of self-hatred and hopelessness.
You took a deep breath full of the chilly night air, exhaling out a puff of steam. The wind whipped around your legs, playing with your hair, and you couldn’t tell whether it was pushing you to jump or pulling you back to safety. From up there, you could truly see Paris in all it’s renowned glory. Lights twinkling in the distance, low jazz playing from nearby restaurants and cafés, the sound of Parisians making their nightly commutes home, by car and by foot. In any other situation, it might have seemed beautiful, nostalgic even.
But it only proved to strengthen your resolve.
These people, bustling around while so ignorant, so wilfully uncaring. The world does not stop when one person is suffering. You’ve been taught that all too many times. You are but one person, in a sea of billions. You are not special. You are nothing.
You let out a shaky sigh, clenching your palms into fists in an attempt to stop the trembling. You’d thought that jumping would be the most passive form of suicide you could attempt. Step, fall, then nothing. You would feel nothing but the breeze in your hair and tingles throughout your body and you would hopefully be dead on impact. But now you were there, tempting death on the edge of the tallest building you could find, you wondered if there had been a better way. Pills, the knife, drowning – they had all seemed far too violent.
Well, at least you could pretend you were flying.
You took one last look out into the open city, memories flashing through your mind like warning signs. The park where you rode your first bicycle, the café you’d worked in during college, your very first apartment, the street where you’d had your first kiss. In your last moments, you wanted only to remember the good ones.
You lifted your foot.
“It’s a long way down,”
You gasped, startled by the sudden voice behind you. You did not turn around, steadying yourself on the ledge. Your heart pounded, your breaths short and quick; shocked out of your trance.
“I did not mean to startle you,” the voice came again, with the same calm intonation. It was definitely a man’s voice, the low timbre sending shivers down your back. Light and honey sweet, but with a firmness to it that felt ancient in nature.
“Leave me be,” you said it so softly that you couldn’t be sure he’d even heard it, your words whisked away in the wind. When he didn’t respond, you repeated it, louder.
There was a brief silence. For a moment, you thought he’d listened – left you to your own devices and to meet your death by your own hand. The thought made your heart sink, though you weren’t surprised. Why would a stranger care what happened to you? The world had made itself very clear in the missive that you are on your own. You didn’t matter, not to this man, not to anyone. Nobody cared, nobody noticed; no one saw you.
“I see you,”
The soft words sent a warm spike through your stomach, your heartbeat increasing tenfold at the sentiment. Had you heard him correctly? You couldn’t have. It was almost as if he’d read your mind and plucked the perfect words to say right out of your head. It wasn’t possible. You hesitated, your mouth hanging open for a moment before you found your voice.
“What do you see, exactly?” you breathed, staring down at your feet, a toe’s length away from the edge.
He hummed. “A lost bird, perched on the highest point of the tallest tower. It’s wing broken, it’s song muffled; it’s growth stunted. Left to fend for itself among the eagles and the foxes of the world, never more than a few metres away from a hunter. It is tired,”
Your brow furrowed at the colourful picture he’d painted for you, of you, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. You nibbled at the skin nervously, the metallic taste of blood seeping into your mouth. “And… what does that make you? A hungry cat prowling for a meal?” You asked finally, half sarcastic and half genuinely curious.
It was quiet, but you heard a chuckle come from behind you. The sound of him was closer now, as if he was right at your back. Like if you leaned backwards just an inch, you’d feel his warm breath on your neck. “Not necessarily. I’ve already eaten,”
Overcome with curiosity, you had the sudden urge to turn around, to see this man just as he’d claimed to see you. You turned slowly, shivering in the cold night air. It felt like you were there for hours, turning deliberately on your heel, the world and everything around you moving so fast while you were stuck in slow-motion. In your peripheral vision, you could see a glimpse of a man, silhouetted in dark shadow.
Before you could get a proper look at him, you slipped.
It was strange. The way your foot flew out from under you, kicking up as you fell backwards, your hands grasping at the air desperately, an alarmed cry ripped from your throat. To think that just a few moments before, this was exactly what you had been planning. And yet, there you were, somehow aching to live. You closed your eyes and braced yourself for the impact of the ground below.
It never came.
Instead, a slender hand shot out and, with two fingers weaved into the fabric of your collar, held you there. You dangled off the edge of the building, panting as you finally got to see the face of your apparent saviour.
He was beautiful.
His beauty was almost… angelic. Dark slicked back curls clouding around his neck, strong features, brown skin that seemed to glow in the low light of the moon. His frame was slender, his posture impeccable, and he was incredibly well dressed. But the one thing that you couldn’t look past, couldn’t bring yourself to overlook, was his piercing amber eyes. They really were reminiscent of a cat’s; sharp, bright, and expressive. You couldn’t look away.
If he was struggling to hold the weight of you, his face didn’t betray it. His expression remained neutral, his arm didn’t shake, his posture never broke for a second – he held you with two fingers like you weighed nothing more than a cup of coffee.
There was silence between the two of you, the only noise cutting through the air being the hustle and bustle of city life. Your eyes were locked with his and neither of you dared to look away. Carefully, the mystery man began to pull you towards him and back onto your feet, his grip never faltering and allowing you time to steady yourself before he took his hand away.
“You saved me,”
A beat.
“Yes,”
“Why?”
He paused, hands in his pockets as his head tilted slightly. “Humans are terribly fragile. A fall from this height would kill you instantly. Of course, that was your plan, correct? To fall, then to die?” he asked, bluntly.
Your eyes narrowed at his words. “Why do you say ‘humans’ like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you aren’t one.”
His lips quirked up into a knowing smirk, his eyes wandering over the expanse of you, taking you in. It felt almost analytical, as if he was studying you – trying to find out what exactly makes you tick. He didn’t respond. Instead, he circled around where you now stood, safe on the roof of the building. You hadn’t even noticed that he’d pulled you further forwards, away from the danger of the edge. He walked around you, close enough that you could feel the slight breeze waft against you as he moved. You felt hunted.
“What are you do-”
“Why would you do that to yourself?” He asked, stopping in front of you once more, now closer.
You frowned at his question, avoiding the piercing gaze of those eyes. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you said, picking at the skin around your fingernails. Leave it to a random man to think he has some kind of moral high ground over you. You waited for it to come – you won’t get into Heaven, won’t pass the pearly gates, if you kill yourself. If you take the pain other’s have thrust upon you into your own hands and make one selfish decision, you are condemned to Hell for an eternity.
He nodded contemplatively. “I suppose it isn’t any of my business. I was just curious – shouldn’t it go against a mortals entire being to commit suicide? One of the weakest existences on this planet and you decide to go out by your own hand? For what? For how other’s perceive you, for how they’ve treated you, for how they’ve used you? Pay no mind to a so-called God’s word. Is that truly what you want?”
You were speechless for a moment. “You don’t know me,”
“I may know you better than you think,” he said. He wandered over to the building’s edge, dusting it off slightly before sitting down and patting the spot beside him. “So speak to me,”
You felt frozen on the spot. This was not where you were expecting this night to go. This was unprecedented and you weren’t entirely sure what to do. You could do it now, fling yourself off the edge while he’s too unaware to save you a second time. But something in his gaze, in his sincerity, stopped you. You walked over and sat down beside the beautiful man, huddling your knees towards you in the cold Paris air.
“I don’t feel human any more,”
His eyebrows seemed to raise in surprise, almost imperceptibly. He waved a hand, as if to tell you to carry on.
“I… I don’t know who I am. I don’t know why I put up with half of the things I do. I don’t know why all of these awful things seem to happen to me. I don’t know why I always seem to meet these... monsters dressed in human clothing. These evil beings wearing skin suits. My so-called family, men who claim they love me but get off on hurting me, ‘friends’ who actively try to make my life worse, strangers who take and take and take. I have no one. It never ends. I don’t feel like a person any more. There is no humanity left in me; it was taken long ago. And if you lose your humanity, what is left?”
You didn’t even notice the tears until they were streaming down your face, dripping down from your chin and wetting your knees. You sniffled, wiping at your face half-heartedly. “What is the point of living if you don’t feel human any more?”
He was silent for a moment, ensuring you were finished before he spoke.
“There is a different kind of living – one you may be more suited for.”
You eyed him warily. A different kind of living? Was he about to try to sell you down some trading scheme? It sounded like the start to a pitch that you had no interest in hearing about. Before you could stop him though, he’d taken your hand in his. His hands were soft, slender fingers with long, perfectly manicured nails. They looked sharp. You glanced back up at him to find him gazing at you intently, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. Those eyes, those entrancing golden eyes. They sucked you in to the point where you truly believed you were the only two left in this world.
“You have endured so much. You do not have to endure any longer. It would take only a moment, a dark gift that will change your life as you know it forever. You will not have to crawl on your knees for love, for acceptance – you will be embraced with open arms. Those of us who are just like you will be there, coaxing and nurturing you along. All you have to do is say the word. You will never feel weak, never feel small, powerless or inferior ever again. Just say the word and I can help you be seen,”
Your hands were shaking, his words seeming like some beautiful lie. But all you wanted in this moment was for him to keep speaking, keep feeding you this lie, keep unravelling this thread for you. You wanted everything he spoke about and more. You did not say a word when he pulled you towards him gently, manoeuvring you so you were pressed against his side. One of his hands cupped under your chin and the other held your waist tenderly. He whispered sweet promises into your ear, his breath cold as his lips brushed against your skin. He had no body heat, no warmth emanating from him; but he was as otherworldly and alluring as can be.
“Please,” you breathed.
He smiled softly against the lobe of your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to your burning skin. Your heart hammered in your chest as his hand moved from your waist to your neck, holding your head in place firmly but not unkindly. He brushed away the hair that laid there, ensuring the skin of your neck was open and inviting to him. You heard his breath quicken as he laid eyes upon your pulse point, his thumb gently pressing into the soft skin.
“Who are you?”
“Armand,”
With that, you felt a sharp pain shoot through your neck. You gasped, your hands clinging to Armand’s heavy overcoat as he held you against him, his fangs pressing deeper into your flesh. He drank deeply, soft moans escaping him every so often as he feasted upon you. In the back of your mind, you registered a weak, fading thought. You wondered what your blood tasted like. This really wasn’t so bad. You were numb, your mind slipping away into oblivion, held in the arms of a beautiful man. There were worse ways to die.
Time moved slowly while you were drained by Armand, his possessive hold on you tightening as he felt the life begin to slip from you, your body relaxing in his arms. He pulled away from your neck, watching as the dark red liquid pooled around the wound. He lapped it up, savouring every drop of your precious blood. You were still alive, barely. He could still hear the weak thrum of your heartbeat, persevering even still. Enduring.
He gently laid you down, using the scarf around his neck as a makeshift pillow to lay your head. He wasted no time in opening his wrist, slicing a sizeable slit into the skin and allowing the blood to pour out. He held his arm over your open mouth, directing the blood to flow down into it. He watched as the crimson liquid stained your skin, his undead heart fluttering for a moment at the beauty of you. You, his fledgling. You, his love. And when you awoke, starved, clinging to his wrist and gulping down your maitre’s blood, he smiled softly.
“I see you.”
