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whumpsoda · 1 month

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Coming Back to Bite You Part 1 - Swept Up

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Finally putting this out there, hopefully I continue it :) updates will probably be pretty slow and gradual!

cw: vampire whumper, kidnapping, hypnosis, alcohol use, mention of death

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He was going to throw up.

Marshall gripped the can of beer in one calloused hand, taking an aggressive swig of the beverage, still cold droplets of liquid dribbling over his fingers. His throat bobbed with each continuing gulp, and his stomach churned in a boil of acidic bile. The bitter taste of alcohol coated his mouth, swishing off his tongue and dancing down his throat, until he realized he was going to choke. Marshall’s moist lips released the can with a weak gasp.

He lazily dropped it to the concrete with a clang, the last sip of liquid slipping And seeping into the cracks of the concrete. With a groan he dug his trembling hands into the skin of his flushed face, bits of dried and cracked blood still crammed in rings underneath his crooked nails.

The sour smell of gore still tainted his runny nostrils, infecting the scent of his several tossed away and half finished drinks. Begrudged tears pricked at his eyes, leaving his vision glassy and wet as he desperately tried to wipe them gone.

He should’ve be used to it. Five plus years of vampire hunting experience should’ve prepared him, but it didn’t. It never did.

Marshall choked back a soft sob, brushing at his face roughly in an attempt to rid the tears stained with embarrassment. He didn’t know why he did it. Why he had for five years, and why he continued to. Why he still didn’t quit after seeing yet another young newbie die a gruesome death at the hand of a monstrous creature, with nothing to do to stop it.

How pathetic.

“Something wrong?”

His limbs froze rigid, the sharp, close words cutting through the nightly silence. He shifted, gaze meeting with that of a small woman seated neatly beside him.

Her face was shadowed by the light shining upon her back, but he could still clearly see her soft grin and glittering eyes.

“Um,” he sputtered, gears turning to catch his mind up with his mouth. “Leave, leave me alone.”

She grinned, eerily soft and sweet, tilting her head a smidge. The essence of a mother speaking to her child. “I’d love to help.”

Help? Puzzled anger bubbled bigger in his belly, only strengthened by her audaciousness. “I said,” he snarled, face twisting and seething, his crooked teeth bared in likeness to that of the creatures he was trained to kill. “Leave me alone.”

“Driving home?”

Marshall groaned, sickly, taking a peek at his tattered old truck sitting in the empty lot. His vision shifted, rolling down to the can he’d placed beside his foot, previously filled with alcohol.

He gritted his teeth, grabbing the can once again and lifting it to his lips as the stranger watched. “Yeah? So what?” He spat, taking a petty sip.

The woman sighed, her smug grin never so much as faltering. “Just thought I’d remind you.” She huffed, holding back a chuckle.

“Why don’t you just mind your own business?” Marshall grumbled, glaring sharply at the stranger. She simply giggled, dripping with condescension, waving him off. Was it so hard to get five minutes to himself?

“Oh, you are very funny, dear. A bit temperamental as well, I see.” She chuckled again.

What was her problem?

That was it. It was not the time. The stranger obviously didn’t have anything better to do than irritate someone crying in the middle of nowhere covered in grime and vampire blood, and seemed to be having a good time with it. Marshall, on the other hand, was no short of seething.

He pushed himself to his feet, wiping his cheeks of sweat and tears and adjusting his coat. Without another word he stepped to leave.

To his surprise, shocking strength wrapped around his wrist, holding him back and leaving him unable to walk off.

“Oh, please don’t go. I didn’t mean to upset you. Sit back down with me, won’t you?”

Marshall stared back in bewilderment at the woman firmly clutching his wrist. What? Confusion was boggling him, poking at his brain. Was she crazy? Who was she to think he would follow her request? After she’d been practically taunting him when he was obviously distressed?

Though-

He paused. He had meant to snap another insolent response, but nothing came out. Why did he-

His vision swiftly glazed over blurry, fogging up his eyes as they turned glassy and unfocused. Marshall wobbled in his spot, legs buckling and shivering with weakness. The ground spun under him, dizzying his head and coating his mind with wretched nausea. His fingers reached out for something to grab, something to stabilize him.

He needed to sit, he needed to sit, he needed to sit, he needed to sit, he needed to sit-

He lazily stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet, plopping right back into his seat. This time, he was a smidge closer to the woman. Marshall’s head lolled into his hand, catching himself from such dizzying disorientation.

Why was he… back on the bench? Was he not just about to leave? Was she touching him?

Lightly she rubbed in circles over his back, a motion he almost took no notice of. “Sorry about that, dear. It’s alright now.”

“I… what…?” Marshall slurred, his mind still a thick sludge that desperately gripped the walls of his, hopeful not to slip further into befuddlement.

He… he’d felt similar. Before. Marshall knew the sensation well, the sensation of his brain slipping through his fingers like water, liquified and stolen right out from his own control. Stomped to mush.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no-

“Very pretty rings you have. Mind if I take a look?” She held his hand between both of her gloved ones, fingers trailing over silver that glimmered in the light.

“Um…”

Not waiting for an answer, the stranger swiftly slipped each ring off each finger, holding them oh so carefully. “Very nice. Very.” She inspected them for a moment, right before turning and tossing them in a garbage bin behind her.

With widened eyes he sputtered, lazily trying to claw for them a second too late. She swept right back into his personal space, forcing him to retreat back with distraction. “Hm. And what might that be?”

She pointed to his pocket.

To his wooden stake, a necessity for vampire hunters.

It couldn’t be-

“I- you, that’s-”

Before he could so much as react, she slipped it right from him with her impossibly quick and nimble hands. “A wooden stake? Silly, silly.” She tisked, ignoring his growing concern and tossing it to the floor. It rolled a few feet away, and with drowsy, draped eyes Marshall watched it crawl out of reach. “You won’t be needing that.”

Please, no-

“You! You- you’re-!” Voice rising with muddled heat, his brain’s realization was catching up with his mouth.

Oh, God-

“Relax. I’m just here to help you. Calm down, dear.”

“N-no… you’re-! Get off me!” He swiped at her outstretched hand, feebly slapping it away.

How could he have been so foolish? How could he have let a vampire so close? How? He’d been so distressed and out of it from that nights job he hadn’t even noticed. What a fool, what a fool, what a fool.

He recoiled, jumping right off the bench and running. With his brain already such a mangled mess he nearly fell over, only catching himself with one hand and pushing himself back up.

His steps were slow and drowsy, swaying arduously and dramatically on his weighted feet. Nonchalantly the stranger stood behind him, taking her sweet time to catch up.

“Go-! Go away! Go away!” he hollered, stumbling around in a growing daze toward his truck, slipping over nothing several times. Her follow persisted. “Go away!”

Her vampiric aura strengthened by the second, taking hold of his susceptible mind and pushing him back into a distant, fuzzy haze. His words were tumbling and quieting, his movements gradually decreasing.

“N- no… no… leave…! Go…”

Soon enough subtle fingers trailed swiftly down his spine, stopping him in place. “Shhh, shhh… relax, dear. Just allow your limbs to go all numb and sleepy.”

His shoulders buckled, jaw falling slack under the immense weight of hypnotic force. Even still, infected by disgusting pleasure, his stomach tensed with sour acid. “Nooo…”

She walked around him, meeting his gaze with sweet, mind melting eyes. “I know you must be scared, little one. My apologies for messing with you, I just couldn’t help it. I’ll be nice now, okay? So be a good boy and just sleep.”

Easy. She’d overpowered him, so easily. Five years of practice and he’d lost just like that. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. How could he not hate himself? How could he not detest the world for such a fate he never deserved? Five years of service and he was going to lose his life at the hands of a vampire?

He’d been so careful.

“Just calm, oh so calm. Your mind settles, all sleepy and exhausted. Just let go for now. I won’t hurt you.” She soothed, cupping his face in her palms.

“Nuh… no… go…”

He didn’t want to let go. He had to escape. He wanted to escape. He wanted…

He wanted…

“Let… go…”

She smiled, warmth spreading through his belly, a blissful, distracting sensation that scattered any coherent thoughts clawing to the edges of his mind. “Good, good. Let go, dear. Just for a bit. You’ll have a very nice nap, okay? It’s all dark out here, which means you must be very tired. And nighttime means you sleep, doesn’t it?”

Marshall yawned, head lolling and body melting. He’d like a nap. He’d been working so dreadfully hard, he deserved one, did he not? A nap would be just wonderful.

“Aw, how cute. You’re so drowsy. Just falling asleep right in my arms, huh? Lovely. An easy catch, weren’t you?” He hummed in agreement, her words flowing through one ear and out the other. He was swiftly floating into unconsciousness, head gradually falling forward into his chest. “Shh… so very relaxed, sleep just holding your putty like mind in it’s hands. Just let go to the call of sleep and exhaustion. I know you want to, dear.”

It was strange, how delightful it felt. He’d been enthralled before, but never so deeply and thoroughly. His brain never so overridden. Why had he ever fought it? Why had he ever rejected such heaven? Marshall couldn’t so much as think of an answer.

Or, think at all, really.

Placing the kind pressure of her hand on the back of his neck, she easily guided the exhausted Marshall’s slick with sweat forehead into the nape of her neck.

“Good boy, good boy. Just let all your worries go. I tried so hard to make this easy on you, I know how easily fussy you humans can get. But everything is fine and calm. Calm and sleepy. Sleepy and relaxed. The darkness of the night makes you oh so exhausted and ready for bed.”

He shivered from the sound of praise, as well as the vampire stroking down his arms and stirring more pleasant feel as he drifted, brain coming to a stop. It felt better than it ever had to fall asleep. He smiled, and so did she. Even in the middle of winter, he’d never felt so pleasantly warm.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head.” She whispered sweetly, rocking him gently like a small child into an entranced sleep. “I’ll take great care of you, dear.”

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Taglist- @softvampirewhump

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

#Coming back to bite you #Whump #whumpblr #whump story #vampire #vampire story #vampire whumper #whump writing #my writing #Marshall oc #Evangeline oc #Vampire hunter #enthralled #hypnotized #hypnosis #hypnosis whump #hypnotized whumpee #kidnapping

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anarkysm · 2 months

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All of My Heroes Die All Alone - Part I: Easy they Come

Jason Todd x oc fanfic.

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Evangeline didn’t know why seeing Floyd this way had not become the normality in her mind. She thought by this point, now that he had reached the six month mark of being admitted into Elliot Memorial’s hospice ward, that she would have become desensitised to the sight of him. The myriad of tubing that protruded from every orifice, the hollow of his throat, his nostrils, the catheter, the colostomy bag, and the various IV lines that all form a cocoon around him like a fly in a spider’s web, waiting for the inevitable predator to slink it’s way down, long needle like fangs piercing flesh. It would be a quicker death than this, the sharp sting, the rush of venom, the paralysis, then… nothing.

How quiet that would be.

Instead the whirring of machines must be getting to his head. If he could still talk he would tell her as such. He would tell her to leave him be. But, there is a selfish part of her soul that wants to keep him around, that wants his advice as long as she can receive it. That wants to keep him as comfortable as she can before the inevitable happens. She’s selfish like that. She hates that she is, but when one good thing stays in your life as long as Floyd Lawton stayed in hers, those claws would stay buried in that flesh forever.

She eats the worst beef and butter sandwich of her life as she occupies the seat next to him. She stays like this throughout visiting hours, only getting up and leaving the room when the nurses clean him, changing his sheets, scrubbing his thinning skin that shows the intricate webbing of muscles, tendons, veins and arteries underneath. She can’t bear to look at him when they do it. His limbs, once thick and ropey with muscle and scars, were now wiry and fragile. She wondered if he would hate his reflection in the mirror, she wondered if it were the other way around that he would have left her body to give up on itself even if it were painful, so it would be quick. So he could mourn and his life would go on. She knew his would. She didn’t know if she was capable of the same.

Her phone rung with an alarm she had set to remind her that the visiting hours were done. She packed her things, a cheesy romance book that merely sat dormant on the arm rest of her chair, and a newspaper. She bid her goodbye to Floyd with a kiss to his temple, and headed out. The nurses were always lovely, there was a tiredness to their kindness that reminded her of him. The nights when he would come back after weeks of being away, but if she asked him a question, he would answer. If she wanted to tell him how the week had gone, he would let her. There would be a darkness to his skin, a sunken feeling in his eyes, but he would be there.

When she exited the building the chill of November nipped at the exposed skin of her neck and she shivered. She hunkered herself down further into her jacket and trekked through the car park until she was sitting astride her bike. The vibration of her phone in her pocket jolted her out of her thoughts and she dug her hand into her coat to fish it out. She recognised the number immediately and brought it to her ear.

”Hospital.” She greeted, knowing she was talking to a man who preferred to be blunt. “Five minutes to home.”

The voice was impatient. “Wherever else would you be?” Came the reply. The tone was edged, the sarcasm dripping with venom. “Meet me in the Canary Club. Got a job.”

Wonderful. She hung up, buried her phone back in her pocket and shoved the helmet over her head.

The Canary Club was home to most of Gotham’s populace on a Friday night, the place crawling with people and vibrating with music. It was humid and sticky and everywhere you looked the lights were flickering and there were girls dancing. It was the kind of place Slade liked to meet in. He liked the noise, it drowned out conversations, and he liked having something or someone to look at while he talked business. He wasn’t an easy man to figure out, but Evangeline liked to think she had a good grasp on why he was as picky as he seemed. The two had had this arrangement for some time, since before Floyd got sick. Floyd didn’t know, of course, it was one of the many secrets she kept from him.

Slade was in his usual booth upstairs, red pleather couches that overlooked the entire dance floor below. He ‘liked to see things coming,’ but Evangeline knew it was more than that, it was a sense of control he liked to keep over the room, even in his old age. And Slade had gotten older, being in his late 60s had thickened his skin but made his insides more fragile. He was tenser and more brutal, he needed opponents to stay down, there was less of a chance he would beat his way out of a fight with someone younger than him now, but that didn’t mean just anyone would pick a fight with Deathstroke. Certainly not Evangeline. She could see his white hair as she ascended the steps, and she followed it like a beacon as it caught the multitude of lights that cascaded over the room. She greeted him as she sat down, “here, again?”

Slade’s lip quirked up. His Deathstroke mask seemed to hide his nerve damaged mouth well. He’d gotten into a fight with the Batman, maskless, a batarang had sliced through his upper lip and chin leaving the area paralysed on one side. Though it didn’t make him any less menacing. “Why not? Gives us both something to look at.” He adjusted the glasses on his face. “How is Lawton?”

Evangeline straightened her back. “Alive.”

Slade made a noise, something tip-toeing between a snort and a grunt. “Not living,” he mused, fingers playing with the edge of the table. He had a folder resting neatly in front of him. “Middle Eastern prison. Libya. Rich man wants his ward returned here alive.”

Evangeline sucked her lower lip between her teeth. “Prison break? Isn’t that more of a mercenary’s job?” She asked. She’d never been tasked with a prison break before, though if it were one here in Gotham she would be oozing confidence, criminals seemed to just walk out of Arkham as easily as breathe. “How much is he paying for this ‘ward’?”

”Sixty Million.”

The world spun, and Evangeline dug her nails into the meat of her thighs to keep her mind focused. That was a lot of money. It was enough that she could… “Why didn’t you take it?” She asked. If it was simple enough that Slade thought she would be able to handle it on her own, then there was something else underlying that he wasn’t disclosing to her. Sixty million was nothing to Slade, he would have the kid back in a week if the rich asshole doubled it. “Seems right up your alley.”

Slade paused a moment, pursing the side of his mouth that still worked. “I’ve not been allowed in Libya for thirty years,” he explained, gently coaxing the folder across the table towards her. “Take it. Mull it over. I’ll give you three hours. You have my number, send me a message.”

The ride back to Floyd’s appointment was a quiet one, but not long. She had two hours and 32 minutes to think about Slade’s offer. Her mind kept wandering back to the reward. How much could this ward be worth? She had doubts it was Bruce Wayne, that pompous asshole hadn’t adopted a new kid in years and the media kept tabs on all of them. The computer whizz, the acrobat turned cop that moved to Bludhaven, the only one you didn’t hear about anymore was the one that died not too long after he showed up in the tabloids. Apparently, something to do with an accident while they were on a holiday somewhere overseas, but no one knew the details. Poor kid. She doubted Bruce would let one of his own leave the country after a devastating loss like that again.

There were rich people in Gotham, but none of them were that rich. She had half a mind to see if there were any missing persons reports that had sprung up within the last week or so, but there were people disappearing every five hours. Some got on trains and never made it home, others just packed up and left without another word. Evangeline wished she could do that, leave the world behind.

She sent Slade a message confirming her involvement and showered whilst waiting for a response. Once she was dried and dressed a message arrived, a date and time to board a plane to Egypt, and who to contact once she reached Cairo. She set her phone on the nightstand to charge, and went about trying to sleep.

Hey Floyd,

I thought I would leave this for the nurses to read out to you because I don’t know if I could tell you this in person but I’m going away for a couple weeks. Nothing serious, just took a job to get some money and it’s sending me overseas for an assignment. I’ll text you when I touchdown. Don’t get any worse until I’m home, yeah?

Angie.

#royharper #jason todd need’s therapy #jason todd #evangeline lawton #deadshot #arsenal #red hood #robin #batman #deathstroke #slade wilson #under the red hood #arkham knight #all my heroes die all alone fanfic #jason todd x oc #nightwing #dick grayson

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