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0-dear-rose-0 · 5 months

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bitten, smitten- what's the difference?

Summary: He's been waiting so long for this moment

He can't go through with it

Warnings: Swearing, stuff that's suggestive because one of them is a vampire, small identity crisis, light drinking, check Ao3 port for full tags

Authors Note: I have once again written a ballroom dance scene that follows no rhyme or rhythm. anyways, I went insane over the vampire hunter Mysterion/vampire Kyle that @kennysdeadbody drew, and I am once again asking everyone to go look at his art because its good. and if ya'll enjoyed consider dropping a reblog or checking out the Ao3 port

There are three simple rules to being a vampire hunter, all of which Mysterion has been following since the first day he got his hands on a wooden stake and a silver bullet.

Rule number one: if they aren't dead, then you are, finish the job at all costs even if the cost is your life.

Rule number two: never verbalize your full name unless it's for something off duty, even at that.

Rule number three: Mysterion broke rule number three, don't fall for their charming ways no matter what.

Who can blame him either, the ever elusive Kyle Broflovski has men dying at his feet. He's slept with every monster in the encyclopedia and somehow Mysterion finds himself shocked the charm worked on him. A vampire, his sworn enemy in life, the plague he hopes to purge alongside his other companions in the business. Of all monsters, he could tolerate falling in love with a werewolf because their monstrous aspects only show once a month, but a vampire? That's full time.

Still, he's spent a year living in the town that Kyle inhabits, aware he runs the town behind the scenes. He has old money, all the power he holds is old power, inherited like everything else he has. He holds grand parties sometimes, the old style, like his town is a locked ten, twenty, thirty, forty years behind the rest of the world. And Mysterion knows he's fibbing when he says that, but he knows for the fact that the wine doesn't taste this fine outside of this town, the air isn't as clear, and the water as velvety on his throat.

He waits, tends to the crops under a different false name, Kenny, a nickname his old partner gave him before dying in the line of duty. He waits so very, very patiently for the day that he gets a chance to attend one of those grand balls that the vampire holds once more. It's not like people doubt he's a vampire, they all know he is, he's shockingly open about it. He's Kyle Broflovski, this town is his bitch, and Mysterion is his only predator who dares to set foot in his town. He flaunts his immortality, offers free food to those too poor to buy it themselves, let's those who needs a quick buck or a place to rest stay in his castle.

And he never gives a lethal bite.

There isn't a single recorded lethal bite that the hunter can find town records on, but he knows it isn't because Kyle doesn't bite. Every single vampire needs to feed, to drain a human till they die or else the vampire will die. It's common knowledge, they all have a bloodlust, unmistakably so, it's what makes them vampires. They need to drink at least once a year or else they'll go rabid and after the craze, then they keel over.

The invitation arrives when he's packing his bags, getting ready to leave because luck hasn't been kind to him so far like it has in the past. He's wearing a shitty orange hoodie, scratched and dirty through years of use when off duty, and the mailman just hands him the letter wordlessly.

"Thanks man," Kenny answered with stiffly.

"It's just my job," And they're pivoting on a heel to leave before Kenny can say anything else.

He shuts the door and slides open the envelope, he tosses aside the paper casing gently. He meanders over to the kitchen and leans on the counter as he reads.

A masquerade ball shall be held on the Friday evening of October thirteenth, and you are invited as is the rest of the town. Please come with a plate of appetizers if you can manage, I fear for my main chefs health and don't want to overwork her. Arrive with a mask at the very least to keep your identity sealed, my doors are open if you so desire to stay the night in the case of drinking too much. And in the spirit of Friday the thirteenth, I'll be feeding upon someone, chosen in the usual fashion and without lethal consequences.

As always, I hope for a turnout with how fun they've been in the past, sincerely, Kyle Broflovski.

Kenny gives an amused hum, he was there last time Kyle fed at one of his balls. Someone was taken away and didn't return back to town until the next day, and Kyle returned with blood on his lips and wiping his fangs with his snow white sleeved shirt. He remembers finding it to be attractive, he also remembers berating himself for it later in the night when he was in his own home. He did see Kyle afterwards, and he looked so much more vibrant, full of life, because he stole someones life force in a sense. And the lass he drank from became his chef, Wendy, and she buys crops from Kenny as the seasons pass, and more importantly, she tells Kenny about Kyle and his habits.

She's been none the wiser to the actual career Kenny had taken up and she does have good gossip. Maybe if he wasn't out for her bosses life they could've been actual friends, not just fake friends for the sake of Kenny's own job. It would be nice, to till the field and gossip with the girls, live an innocent and naive life unaware that their vampire ruler is a bloodthirsty monster whose pulling all the strings. Even Wendy, the closest thing Kyle has too a firsthand man, is seemingly unaware of the danger she lives with and serves.

She says that he's nice, and that even in private all he ever does is play chess, backgammon, and occasionally offer to get drunk with her because she never takes a night off even though he says he can cook for himself. He fashions her dresses, and fashions suits for the men who've worked for him, a ploy, Kenny decides it's merely a ploy to lull them into false safety. He's just a gentleman, Wendy always says, he never does anything to make her displeased, he just wishes the town is prosperous.

And he scoffs every time, says a vampire took his best friend, he can't trust the man. And Wendy always answers with a somewhat smug 'how come you always attend his parties?' which consistently pins Kenny into a rough spot. He always answered with 'well maybe I find him appealing' instead of anything else, and perhaps that is what's finally deciding to come back and bite him in the ass. He's still yearning for the moment he gets to end Kyle, three days from now, he'll stake the vampire through the chest and leave. But, there's this terrible feeling at the idea, a small one, and he chalks it up to just being a shame that he doesn't get to sleep with the hottest monster he's been given the honor of slaying.

-/-/-/-

Kenny really missed the way his Mysterion garb fit on him, he hasn't worn it in nearly a year. It definitely fit tighter around the shoulders, but he supposed that tiling fields will give you some muscle. Thankfully the hood still fits like a charm, draping over his shoulders and down too just below his knees. The gloves slide on the same they always have, no chafe, and soft lining, just like the boots.

Maybe if he were a renowned vampire hunter he would choose against wearing his signature purples, but alas, he's still just a shadow in the business. Besides, the boldness to wear his vampire killing outfit to a vampires ball? He's never heard of another hunter so confident in the history of vampires being hunted and hunters hunting vampires. He'll be the first, he'll be renowned, decimating the Broflovski bloodline, one that hasn't been ended despite being so very, very old. He'll go down in history, for killing a vampire so cruel, tricking an entire town like it's nothing.

He hides the stakes to the side of his hip, hooked along belt loops and covered by his cape. He feels this burst of adrenaline (almost glee) as he slips on the mask, deep purple and tied back with a small knot of near silken fabrics. It's time, he knows the procedure of how these feeding events go, how Kyle 'chooses' even though his choice can decline. He glides onto the dancefloor with the grace of a swan and asks someone to dance, they agree and he gives them a dance, and then he bites. Sometimes he takes them to a separate room, sometimes he doesn't- Kenny just knows the only way he'll get a chance to strike is if he's chosen.

So if he messes it up, it's not his fault. It just means that he'll have no choice but to stay for one more year until Kyle has to feed again, and he has another chance to be chosen. Another chance to strike when thematically appropriate and rather bold at that.

He meets Wendy at the door and gives a genuine smile, "What do you think of my outfit?" Maybe he's being a little bit too upfront, oh well.

There's instant recognition on Wendy's face at his voice, "It looks amazing, matches your eye color," She's polite enough not to drop his name, to keep the spirit of the masquerade.

Kenny, no, he can't be in the 'Kenny' mindset right now. He'll drop a couple octaves once he's done his conversation with Wendy, "Think he'll pick me?"

And Wendy laughs, "Maybe he will, his taste changes every single year; so long as you've been easy on the garlic you're plenty a candidate."

And he has been easy on the garlic, he's fallen ill with a horrible rendition of the cold twice since he stopped eating as much of it. But he has to do so, for the job, and he had to double down on other spices and herbs to keep his food flavorful. He will wreak havoc on some innocent jackalope population if it does fail, anger management if you will.

"I haven't eaten garlic in months, if he doesn't pick me I'll die," Kenny answered with a laugh to his voice, "I really should be on my way though, I don't wanna miss my chance."

Then he's waving off Wendy and making his way in, keeping his cape curled around his hip to hide his weapon. He wasn't ever trained for social interactions, he was just told how to kill, so he isn't exactly doing this 'dancing around' thing properly. He's just chatting, drinking, trying to be social and enjoy the spirit of the event despite the sense of dread that he'll be the one to bring it all down.

It's nice, sipping slowly on fine red whines as he talks to acquaintances and people he's never met despite the town being so small. He almost doesn't want to go through with it, almost, this is his lifes work, once he's done with this mark he can leave forever. He just steels himself for when that lifeless entity enters the room and chooses someone for a dance.

That... impossibly good looking, but still heartless, creature makes his entrance. He can't believe himself for having such a thought, that's the wine talking, he supposes he's had a glass or two by now. It's the wine, he tells himself, it's the wine taking facts of matter (Kyle looks just above average) and blowing them out of proportion (Kyle is the best looking monster he's laid eyes on) instead of peeling back a layer of complexities he can't identify. He shudders at the fact his mind is spewing such nonsense, a vampire, attractive, what bullshit. Still, his face heats up the more he tries to counter the unwarranted train of thought by drawing up an image of Kyle in his head and trying to pinpoint what looks bad. What is bad, aside from him being a vampire, and he can't find shit.

There's the sound of someone clearing their throat and he looks up to find Kyle with a hand outstretched. He's wearing this sanguine grin that puts his pearly whites on display, and as usual he's dressed in a white button down and slacks. Mysterion just looks up to meet his gaze, eyes a swampy olive hue.

"May I...?" What a gentleman, and he pauses, retracting his hand just a bit.

"Mysterion," The answer is low.

Kyle gives a hum, "May I have this dance, Mysterion?"

And suddenly the blonde feels so cold, all of his nerves suddenly aware of whatever they're pressed against. It feels like the light is on him, shining bright in his eyes and on his skin. He places his gloved hand atop Kyle's, "Do be warned, I don't dance much."

There's a swift tug before Mysterion finds his back against Kyle's torso, twirling on his heel with the hand taken outstretched. One hand rests gently on his hip, "Just go with it then, I won't let you get hurt," His voice is as gentle as his grasp. Featherlight and almost a ghost of a touch, just enough to remind him of his position.

Mysterion nodded, "Cool, lead the way."

And then he's outstretched on another twirl, a foot forward and he rocks back into the motion. A foots distance between them, the hand returns to his side, resting at his shoulder blade, the other one higher up. He follows the swaying motions rather poorly, but still, he tries. He needs to at least attempt to look good in front of a crowd, it must be amusing to the vampire with how often he fumbles his footing. But, his dance partner keeps making up for it, shifting methods to work.

The hand drops to the small of his back and he twirls out instead because a dip isn't happening in full. And Kyle works around it, gliding over to find himself in front of Mysterion once more (he knocks off the hood, Mysterion knows what it means). He links their hands once more, and its the other hand this time. The blonde follows the next twist, the one under Kyle's raised arm, a pirouette that he can only describe with having similarity to a ballet routine.

He does the same to Kyle twirls him out and catches his half fall, but he slides back. He keeps himself flush against Mysterion as he sidles along the length of the blondes still outstretched arm. He swiftly pivots, hand grasping Mysterion's waist much tighter then before and fangs brushing against his throat. There's a hitch in the hunters breath as he goes rigid, hand gliding along his arm to gently grasp his hand.

"We can go somewhere more private," The offer is spoken so quietly it's clear he's trying to make sure only Mysterion hears him.

"That'd be lovely," There's a certain husk to his voice that rarely makes itself known, especially not with lethal weapons to his throat.

Kyle lifts his head and doesn't release Mysterion's hand, he leads the hunter way with a grace to his motions. The door hinges don't squeak as it's pushed wide open, leading to a comfortably wide hallway. The carpets are red, and the only light is what shines in through too tall windows and the occasional candle here and there on small tables.

Mysterions heart starts to pound a little bit faster as he tries to reach for a stake. It's already drumming so very, very loud in his chest from the dance, probably so the blood is better. His grip shakes just a bit, but this is it, he has to do it now or he'll never get another chance. He tugs his hood back up defensively, he's got this, killing his first full blood is gonna go great.

"Let's get this over with," Kyle said as he turned around, he didn't even look very shocked when he saw the stake Mysterion was brandishing.

He did give a yelp of shock when he was pounced to the ground, quick to get himself up just a bit. Knees rest at either side of his hips and there's this stressed look on Mysterion's face, holding the pommel of his stake just below the base of his ribcage with both hands. Kyle props himself up on his elbows, knees hitching reflexively, the purple fabric of the cape pools a little bit more on the floor.

Why isn't he moving?

He has his prey right where he wants it, and he isn't striking. Stake in his hands, and this impossible existence below him wearing an expression of fear never found on the ferals Mysterion usually deals with. He's used to his marks writhing and screaming and thrashing until he shoots them or cracks their by hand.

This so much worse than that, than anything else he's ever done. He can handle snuffing werewolves who are transformed. He can handle killing seemingly innocent and harmless creatures. He can handle poisoning the food of someones pet cerberus for their own safety.

Kyle sighs, "Go ahead, it's your job."

And Mysterion still doesn't, his grip just starts to shake again. He can feel sweat start to bead on his forehead, stress, he's going to crack under pressure. He's been so excited for this moment for years at this rate and his body refuses to jam the stake through the vampires chest.

He's too human. Mysterion sees too much of himself and his family and his friends in Kyle. There's too much kindness behind those eyes, his smiles are too genuine. He isn't evil, he can't be, and Mysterion can finally see that know, sort of. He's sure that Kyle will go feral if he doesn't drink, but he also knows that he's wearing his cross right now.

"Mysterion," Kyle said, raising a hand to rest on the stake, "I've known you're a vampire hunter since day one," He jerked it forward just a bit, "This is your job."

"How come you didn't get rid of me?" Mysterion asked, and his voice shook as he spoke, yanking the stake to the side.

Kyle shrugged, "You kept out the werewolves, kept my town safe, and in turn, I kept you safe."

"Fuck you mean you kept me safe?" Kenny answered with sharply as he could muster.

"What makes you think your business partners weren't ready to come and kill you for failing your job?" Kyle answered with, "They were, I dealt with them."

In a second the tip of the stake was pressed to Kyle's throat, "You killed them?!"

"I scared them off," Kyle said calmly, "I told them that if they killed you, I would end their bloodlines."

Mysterion halts, again, for the third time, the fifth time maybe, he's lost count. Mercy, from this, this monster- this person he's been sent to kill, he's been gifted mercy. And here he is, raising the stake back to where Kyle's heart would rest.

"You have business here Mysterion," Kyle said, he gave a small smile. He was fine with this, he was content with dying, "I let you go without finishing it this long, it's time to do your job."

He presses the tip of the stake to Kyle's chest.

"You're gonna be a great vampire hunter," And he sounds so fucking wistful it makes Mysterion feel like he's the one being stabbed in chest.

"I can't," The words come out strangled as he releases the stake and brushes it off of Kyle's chest like dust, "I can't."

"You kill me and go home a winner, a hero," Kyle said sternly, "Or you don't and get hunted by your once faithful companions- you have a choice."

Mysterion stood up and stepped to the side. He ran a hand through his hair with a heavy exhale. Fuck, "I can't do it, you aren't what I was brought here to kill."

"I will be if I don't drink any blood," Kyle said, smarm heavy on his voice as he stood.

"I know!" Mysterion snapped, reaching to his throat and the chain resting on it. He tugged it off, the silver cross he wore for self defense discarded.

Kyle watched it land on the carpet with rapt attention, watched one of his banes hit the floor. He glanced back up to Mysterion and stepped a bit closer.

"I came here to kill a monster, but you're not a monster," He was pacing now, back and forth. He was shaking and so close to crying, "I don't, what am I supposed to fucking do?"

"I'll say it again, kill me and live, or don't and die," Kyle said calmly, gingerly reaching for Mysterion's form, "Although, if you do kill me, may I see your face?"

The blonde nods rapidly as Kyle stands in front of him. The hood is pushed back first, delicate hands come to undo the knot next and the purple falls off Kenny's face. He leans into Kyle's hand, it's cold, but it's human, it's not monster aside from the fact his nails are sharp. He's not what Kenny was told he'd be killing.

Kyle doesn't speak, just grabs Kenny's hand with his free one, "May I?"

"May you what?" Kenny asked.

"Have a bite, I'm still absolutely starved," He tries to leave an air of humor on his voice but he fails to do so.

And it goes against every fiber of Kenny's being, but he speaks, "Go ahead."

The bite is gently placed along the vein on the inside of his wrist. He barely feels it, in fact he can only tell because of Kyle's bowed head.

He heaves a shaky sigh, "What am I doing?"

Kyle pulls back and Kenny wipes away the blood smudged on his lip, the rosy red hue of his own blood gathers on Kyle's face. The vampire gives a hum, "You don't have to leave," He speaks softly again, how does he keep doing that? Charming Kenny deeper into this pit of conflict.

"I'll be killed, Kyle," Kenny said as he leaned further onto Kyle, "I broke the rules."

"I'll kill them for your safety then, Wendy will shoot them for your safety, Tolkien will burn them for your safety," Kyle promised, "You're part of our town now, you always have been."

"What am I supposed to do, all I've ever fucking done is kill monsters," Kenny said, words spoken quietly.

"You're our farmer now," Kyle answered with.

"I've wanted to kill you for so long, Kyle," Kenny confessed, so much shame rested on them, "I'm not going to though."

Kyle paused.

"I'm sorry,"

The stake is at Kyle's chest again, it falls short again. The display is laughable as Kenny crumbles into Kyle's arms and the vampire just holds him. Rubbing between his shoulder blades as he sobbed.

"I didn't, I failed-" He breaks, he can't even speak.

"You're better now," The words are soft, and affirming, "We won't let them hurt you."

#one of my new favorite fic of yours i literally adore your writing

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