#“olive skin” “brown eyes” “dark hair” does this sound like fucking dracula to you

[zapsoda]

looked up the book i just read in tumblr search. big mistake. theyre bleaching my south european boy

#“olive skin” “brown eyes” “dark hair” does this sound like fucking dracula to you

[megthemewlingquim]

This Is Your Wilderness

Summary: You learn new things about the world you have entered, both the easy way and the harder way.

Pairing: Adam x Reader

Warnings: foul language (it’s a given for Adam), violence, angst

A/N: This is for @just-the-hiddles 's 3500 Follower Writing Challenge! The prompt was Bliss: A shot of pure, self-indulgent euphoria! A scent that is very, very wicked in its own way: the serotonin-slathered scent of pure milk chocolate. This turned out to be much more angsty than I expected, and you can thank @empower-bi-women​ for that little nudge. This is also an AU where Ian never died.

“Adam, don’t be so paranoid. No one has come around for ages.”

The tall, dark figure at the window sighs. His fingers had only moved the curtain for a second, and he had peeked out and looked down, but now he shifts, lets the curtain fall again. His eyes glint in the dim lighting, and they seem black. “Yeah, but I’m still worried,” he mumbles.

“I could try and get them to stay away,” you say lightly, a suggestion you know will fail tremendously. “Say it’s all fake, what with you and your reclusiveness.” You fiddle with a chess piece, a white rook, in your right hand, glancing back up at Adam. “It’s no trouble.”

“You’re the only zombie I trust now, you know that.” Adam moves back over to where you sit cross-legged on the floor. “You’re all I have. I’ll be damned if I let you go out there alone.”

He sits back down across from you, eyeing his own black chess pieces. Currently, he is down two pawns. “Besides, if the Others find out about you, they’ll… fuck, they’ll kill you. They’d kill you and leave me alone. Because they’d want me to suffer.”

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches. Adam never speaks about the “Others” — at least, never more than a mention of the name.

“Why?” you ask. “Why would they want that?”

“Because I don’t care about their fucking wars. The zombies cause enough trouble as it is. When the vampires and werewolves started their clans, I was not there to join them. I was... I was actually trying to settle down with someone.”

“That’s why you’re in hiding? Because you love?”

“I love, yes. I love and I care and I don’t just survive. This isn’t the goddamn 14th century anymore. I don’t just drink someone and throw their body in a ditch. I get my blood from hospitals. That is if it isn’t fucking... contaminated.” Adam winces. “That’s how Marlowe died.”

“Wait, who’s Marlowe?” you ask. “Was he a friend of yours? Another vampire like yourself?”

He smiles, an amused hum leaving him. “Yeah, he was a friend. Eve knew him longer than I did but we were friends. He was a visionary, an absolute genius. He wrote most of Shakespeare’s plays, y’know.”

You have to take a second to process this, and another to make the timeline match up. “You don’t mean the Christopher Marlowe?”

“He was one of Shakespeare’s biggest influences... and one of Shakespeare's real writers.” Adam smiles. “He really died a couple of years ago. Blood poisoning from a French hospital.”

“Is that why you only use me for your blood?” you ask softly. He nods. You look down, realizing the severity of it all. “So no drugs, huh?” you ask jokingly.

He laughs, a small amused chuckle. “Yeah, no. Drugs... if you’re still helping me out, are off limits. The occasional coffee is okay.”

“‘S okay with me.” You shrug. “As long as you stay safe.”

“And I can say the same to you,” Adam says, coming back over to sit beside you. He brings you close, resting his chin on your head and cuddling you from behind. “All I’d ever want is for you to be safe. Which is why I can’t have you talking to the Others... or anyone who might know them. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I do.”

After a long pause, you perk up.

“We should go to the store.” You glance at the electric clock, which reads 1:43 AM. “I’m sure some convenience stores are open. Do you need anything?”

“You ask me that every time we go,” Adam mumbles amiably. “I don’t need anything, no, but I’ll go with you if you want.”

And so you go.

All you get at the end of the trip is a loaf of bread, a gallon of milk, and some milk chocolate bars (an essential in your opinion). 

“I’ll go for my actual shopping tomorrow,” you say, getting the gallon out of the freezer. 

The air is cold all through the tiny store, and the surprisingly satisfying scent of beer cooler is all around you. Adam wears his sunglasses and gloves, and looks around the shelves. He has nothing in his hands.

He glances at you. “Okay,” he says hesitantly, standing quite rigidly.

When you step up to the counter, the cashier looks suspiciously at Adam, who stands behind you, looking at a beer bottle: it has a tiny little Dracula on it. He is reading the flavor: blood orange.

It seems like the cashier had not heard the two of you talking, but had only seen you look at each other.

“Is this man here, uh, bothering you, miss?” he whispers.

You do not see it, but Adam’s head lifts, just a little.

“N-no,” you say, trying to make your voice as firm as possible. “No, I’m with him, actually.”

The cashier nods. “Uh huh,” he had said, not sounding convinced at all.

Adam comes up to accompany you at the register. Even through his glasses, you can see that his gaze is piercing. “She’s with me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’d like to leave.”

Maybe it’s something about Adam’s gaze or his dark tone: the cashier looks slightly worried, but he does what he was told. In a few seconds, you are out, Adam following closely behind you.

“Don’t want anyone coming close to my girl,” he mutters, his breath steaming in the crisp air. “Even if he means well. We’re out in the open now. And I can’t take any chances.”

Without saying anything in response, you both make it into Adam’s car, your little plastic bag sitting peacefully near your legs. Adam turns the key and the car rumbles to a start, and he is just about to shift into drive when he looks up.

He freezes, nostrils flaring in anger. His grip on the shift tightens, and your eyes go from his gloved hand to the dashboard, to see what he sees.

As if on cue...

There are three middle aged men in front of the car, almost completely shrouded by the darkness. The sides of their faces are lit up from the left by the white light of the store’s inside.

Their eyes seem black, and their faces are deathly pale.

“Stay in the car,” Adam hisses, his voice dark and angry.

“Adam—” you try to protest.

“Stay. In. The fucking. Car.” Adam’s teeth are gritted, and his voice gets even angrier, if that’s possible, but he never takes his eyes off of the three men in front of you.

“Wh-what are they going to do? Wh-wh-who are they?” you ask, stammering.

“Lock the doors,” is all he says.

He takes the key out of the ignition. The car stops its rumbling. He opens his driver door and steps out, placing the key in his back jean pocket. He shuts the door behind him.

“Adam!” you whisper, knowing he can still hear you. “Adam, get back here! We can just drive away.”

You see him mouth something: No.

You lock the doors.

Your ears are unable to pick up what they all say: but I will fill in the details.

One of the men steps forward, his white teeth showing in a sickly sweet smile. “Adam,” he says, welcoming in tone. “It’s been a while. When was it we last saw each other, hmm? 1805?”

“Walter… Henry… Jesse,” Adam says quietly, nodding at each of the men. “It has been a while, yes.”

The first man — Walter — glances toward you, and winks. “We've come to talk to you about enlisting. But... this is much more interesting. What’cha got there, huh? A little mouse?”

The name is not positive, nor is it cute. With Adam, it would be. But, right now…

You’re already petrified. From a wink, and a bittersweet smile. 

Your heart pounds.

You know, then, that they can hear it. All of them. They can hear your heart racing, the blood rushing through it. They can probably see you shaking, hear the breath leaving your mouth in trembling whispers.

Adam. Adam, run.

“She’s no one,” Adam says darkly. “She...found out about me. I have to kill her. She can’t know about me. About us.”

“How did she find out?” asks another man. Quite tall, nice looking, with light brown hair and stubble at the jaw and cheeks. A gold chain is around his neck, and he wears a brown jacket and white t-shirt. He is also pale, extremely pale, just like his friends, and his eyes seem black.

“There was a friend of mine who broke the confidentiality agreement. That friend is dead now. I killed him, too. But she also has to go.”

“Did she tell anyone?”

“No, Jesse, she didn’t.”

“Good,” the third man — Henry — says. He looks nice, too. Black hair, olive skin. He looks a little older than Jesse or Walter, though. “We can’t let that happen, now, can we?”

“Hey…” Walter says, getting an idea. His smile is not a good one. “Why don’t we help you out? She’s gonna die anyway, isn’t she?”

Adam, by all means, should say yes. It would give him some more time to banter, to discuss horrible ways of torture and death. It would help to keep your cover. He should shrug, say yes, and let you out of the car. Then, he should rip the other three vampires to shreds.

But he doesn’t.

Adam growls — and though you are not able to hear it, you can see his expression. It is hunger, it is defiance, and it is anger. “You are not to touch her. She’s mine: mine to kill, mine to torture — ”

“Yours to marry, yours to love?” Walter asks, mockingly. “Yours to fuck?”

Adam freezes.

“Nobody we know — you least of all — would ever get that protective of a fuckin’ zombie. What are you not telling us, Adam?”

“Get the fuck away from us,” Adam snarls, suddenly furious. “I don’t want any part in your little wars — and neither does she.”

“So you’re admitting it,” Jesse says, almost excitedly. “You love her, don’t you? That's what this is about?”

“That, and the fact that that he hasn't joined a clan in his entire existence,” Walter murmurs over to Jesse. “We discussed that already.”

“I told you once, I’ve told you a million times: I don’t want to be involved with you,” Adam groans.

“You know it’s frowned upon. Both things,” Jesse says.

“A vampire hasn’t mated with a zombie in centuries. And you remember how that went, don’t you?” Walter takes a singular step forward.

Adam’s eyes narrow. “Don’t,” he growls, his voice practically dropping a whole octave with anger.

“It’s only for the good of our survival, Adam. You mustn’t blame us,” Henry says, a mad glint in his eye.

The next five seconds happen with lightning speed. You only recognize the sound and feel of broken glass when it hits you, and a bloodied hand unlocks the door. You blink, it seems, and you’re suddenly pulled roughly out of the car and onto the cold pavement below. Then, you’re hoisted up into someone’s grasp, and into standing position. They still hold you tightly and roughly, and their grip is harsh. A cold hand is slapped onto your mouth.

You scream through it, though, your voice muffled and frantic.

In an instant, Adam’s alert, animalistic, beastly. He growls again, and spits out, “You will not harm her!”

“Adam, what are they doing?” you pant frantically through the hand covering your mouth, knowing that he can hear it loud and clear.

“We’re gonna fuckin’ skin you alive,” the one holding you whispers, gripping you even tighter when you flail and whimper in fear.

“No, you won’t,” Adam murmurs. “Let her go.”

“How do you think this’ll go, Adam?” Henry asks. “You think you’re gonna come out on top? You think you’re gonna stay away from our destiny? You need to help us, Adam. You need to be a good soldier and join us in the wars.”

“I’ll die first!” spits Adam.

“No. You won’t. But she will... whether you say yes or no. Because you’ve gone against our code anyway. Being with... and mating with... a mortal. Now, Adam, you’re better than this.” Henry’s tone becomes condescending. 

Adam’s eyes glint with offense and anger. “If you say one more word, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Not if we kill her first.”

You hear something, then. The breathy sigh of someone holding you... it sounds like a grin. A hungry grin.

You’ve heard that noise before. It happens whenever Adam drinks blood... yours included.

Your stomach drops to your feet.

A childish, delusional part of you wants to say something. Hey, ya want some chocolate? We got some in the car, it smells really good! Really sweet! Sweeter than blood!

You go mad, flailing and screaming, trying desperately to escape, but the one holding you keeps you in his grasp.

“It’s dinnertime,” Henry says, and his voice is a growl.

The next ten seconds happen in a blur. You hear several whooshing noises, feel light brushes of wind all around you, and see blurs of black, white, and gray all around you. You also hear growling — feral, ferocious, angry growls.

You land on the pavement, scraping your knees. Not enough to draw blood, but they sting all the same. In a frantic rush, you scramble as far away from the fight as possible. And that is what it is — a fight. A fight between four —

Three vampires. One of them has dropped to the ground in a heap. You fight the urge to vomit when you notice his head is at an extremely abnormal angle. It is not Adam, however.

Adam was the one, you realize, that has broken the vampire you don’t know to be Jesse’s neck. Adam is lunging, swiping, roaring at the other vampires, who are doing the same. They dodge each other’s grasping hands and punches. You can see flashes of white in the middle of this: fangs.

“Go!” Adam screams, and the breath leaves your lungs. You’ve never heard Adam shout. His voice has never risen above an indoor voice or a menacing mutter.

“Not without you!” you cry desperately. “Adam, they’ll kill you!”

“RUN!” 

This time, you know there’s no argument to be had. You run as fast as you can away from the scene, tears stinging your eyes and your legs burning with the effort.

Eventually, you have to stop your running and settle for walking on the cracked sidewalks. Something howls as the night grows deeper and darker. Fortunately, you know the way home, and you also know that whatever is out there, howling at the moon, will not hurt you. Adam made sure of that one.

You’re a lone figure, shrouded in darkness, walking back to safety with cold arms and stinging knees. Occasionally, you glance behind your shoulder, but you don’t see anything.

After a long while, you start to hear the rumble of a car’s engine driving up behind you. You look behind you and see that this car is driving quite close to the sidewalk. Moving further to your right, you avoid it — that is, until it slows to your walking pace and stays beside you. Keeping your head down, you try to walk a little faster. The car, you notice, looks a bit like Adam’s, but it is not. Your heart pounds, and you almost start to run when a car window is rolled down, and —

“Hey — what’re you doin’ out here?” A soft voice. He sounds like he’d be a surfer in another life.

You recognize it. “I-I-Ian?” you stammer, your eyes widening. You turn to the car and exhale a sob of complete relief. It is Ian, driving slowly beside you and looking at you with the utmost concern.

Ian has known you for a long while, ever since you started dating Adam. He has always been sweet, kind, and considerate, and has always been a good friend to the both of you.

“Y-yeah,” Ian says softly, “what... what’s the matter, sweetheart? You ok?”

You shake your head. “No,” you mutter. “A-Adam got into some trouble. We were attacked in the parking lot of some shitty convenience store. He t-t-told me to run, and I did. R-Reluctantly.” 

“Holy shit...that’s fucked up,” Ian says incredulously. He leans “Is Adam still there?”

You feel tears rising to your eyes again and you sniff. “I don’t know where he is... or if he’s ok, and — and — I don’t wanna go home and wait and find out that —” Your voice is dangerously close to cracking.

“Hey,” Ian says, his voice a little firmer now. It still keeps its compassion. “Y’want me to take you home?”

“Would you?” you ask desperately.

“Of course, sweetheart, come on in.” He leans over and, with a little grimace of exertion, unlocks and opens the door. You can't get into the car fast enough. You slam the door beside you and slump against the seat.

“We're gonna get you home, ok? It's not far from here. Want me to turn the heater on?”

You drive in silence for most of the trip. Ian must know you don't want to talk too much.

Ian's head comes into your peripheral vision. You're looking down at your feet.

“Hey... Adam's gonna be fine,” he says softly. “He can take care of himself. Something about him just tells me that. My guess is that he's driving home now, actually. He probably fucking destroyed whoever did this to you.”

You nod. You know it's true.

“He cares about you a lot. He loves you. I've... I've never seen Adam look at someone the way he looks at you. Well, maybe except his wife. But... that was some time ago. And she—”

He stops himself. You can both feel the tension there, and you shuffle nervously in your seat.

“Anyway,” Ian continues hesitantly, “he — he cares about you. He'll come back, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

You get to the house, Ian driving slowly up to the curb. The house, as always, is dark.

“Check the back?” you ask. Ian drives further, and you crane your neck to eye the garden. There's an empty spot where the car normally would be.

Your heart sinks.

“Hey, sweetheart...” Ian says. “It's alright... I'm sure he's just...” But he trails off. “A fight wouldn't take this long,” he mutters under his breath. You can still hear it.

There's a pause in which none of you move. You're hesitant to get out of the car and into the house. Ian watches you, waits for you. The rumble of the car is quiet and hypnotic.

“I don't... I don't wanna go in alone,” you say, and you inwardly scoff at your own childishness.

“I can stay with you if you want,” Ian says. “Adam mostly leaves his doors unlocked, doesn't he?”

“Yeah.”

“Why is that?”

You hesitate. “I don't know.”

But you do know. Regular people are pretty much out of the question — they wouldn't come in, because they think the house is abandoned. If they do come in, Adam could play it off as nothing suspicious and get them to leave as soon as possible. The werewolves wouldn't hurt you, and vampires suffer awfully bad luck if they enter a threshold uninvited. If the Others did come in, well... Adam could take care of them, couldn't he?

“Maybe it's because he's all reclusive. He probably doesn't think anyone will actually come in. Those rock 'n roll kids are exactly that. Kids. They won't do anything.”

You nod. “Er... could you stay with me, Ian? Please?”

He smiles. “Yeah,” he says. “I can do that.”

Ian parks the car on the edge of the road, and shuts off the engine. The cold seeps in your skin again and reaches your bones.

You both get out of the car and walk up to the door. It opens without any struggle.

The house itself is completely dark, and there's no sign of Adam anywhere. The room upstairs — Adam's studio — is completely silent and dark, and he's not in his bed.

Without any words, you two go into his studio again and turn on some lights. Together, you sit on his couch and wait.

After some time, Ian sits up suddenly.

“Oh, shit! We should've called the cops!” Ian cries.

You shake your head. “No,” you say.

Ian looks at you, baffled.

“Ian, Adam's... not one for the police. And, like we said before, Adam can take care of himself. He's strong like that. I'm sure he's...” you trail off. “I'm sure he's fine.”

“Did they have any weapons on them?”

“I don't think so,” you say, remembering the flashes of pointy white teeth.

“Then, what the hell happened afterward? Why isn't Adam back yet? If they didn't have any weapons, and you know Adam can throw a punch and take care of himself, then why the hell isn't he back yet?”

“I don't know,” you say miserably. A part of you thinks Ian is somehow mad at you, but the rational part of you takes over, and decides that he is not.

Ian pauses.

“Fuck it, I'm calling the cops.”

“No,” says a voice behind you. It is sharp and commanding, but you recognize it in a heartbeat.

You turn to look. Standing in the doorway, all battered, bruised, bloodied, is Adam. His sunglasses are nowhere to be found, and neither are his gloves.

“Oh, my God,” you whimper, rushing toward him. Immediately, you're engulfed in his scent, his warmth, his comforting embrace. It's a rush of relief. “You're — you're okay,” you whisper, sniffing as tears of relief come to your eyes.

“Baby, it's alright,” Adam murmurs, “I'm here. I'm here and I'm okay. It's all OK. We're fine.” He rubs your back with a hand.

“Adam, what the fuck happened, man?” Ian asks. “We were worried sick.”

“I'm sorry,” Adam says. “That took way longer than expected. I was also questioned by the authorities. They're looking for the kids now.”

Something tells you that this is not what happened.

Ian looks at Adam skeptically. But, after a few seconds, he shrugs. “I mean... I'm just glad you're alright, man. And I'm glad she's safe, too.” He gestures toward you with a small smile.

“Thank you, Ian,” Adam says gratefully. “Thank you for keeping my love safe. Thank you for staying with her. Now... I think it's time for you to go... Do you need anything before you take off? You can piss in the garden if you need.”

“You sure you don't need anything? You wanna take a look at those bruises?”

“We'll be fine, thank you,” Adam says.

Ian blinks. “You never fail to amaze me, Adam.” He stands up, and rubs your shoulder. “G'night, sweetheart. You're in very good hands now.”

“Thanks, Ian. See you soon, ok?” you say.

“Alright.” He starts to walk down the stairs. “If you guys need anything at all, just hit me up. Later.”

You and Adam don't speak until you both hear his car driving away from the house.

“What did they do to you?” you ask immediately, suddenly frantic and worried, stepping away to get a good look at Adam.

You blink, it seems, and Adam's bruises, cuts, and overall tired appearance are gone. He looks perfectly normal now.

“They did that,” Adam says. “I killed two of 'em. One of them got away.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“No, thank God for that.”

But there's something... off... about the way Adam looks. He seems sad, worried.

“Adam... what is it?” you ask slowly.

“One of the Others got away. He's bound to have talked to his clan by now. I'm still not gonna join them. And I'm sure as hell not gonna give you away and leave you.”

“So... what's gonna happen?”

Adam takes a deep breath. “How do you feel about Tangier, Morocco?”

#jth3500writingchallenge #adam olla #adam x reader #adam olla x reader #adam headcanons #only lovers left alive