#severen near dark

[slasher-male-wife]

Horror characters seeing their s/o covered in blood

Happy Halloween everyone. I did a poll awhile ago on what I should post for Halloween and this won. So I'm here to deliver what y'all voted on. I included a lot of characters in this just for fun. Disclaimer I haven't written for some of these characters in awhile or that much at all, so sorry if some of these are ooc.

Includes: Amanda Young, Michael Myers, Otis Driftwood, The Lost Boys, Candyman, Doomhead, Patrick Bateman, Severen Van Sickle, Pyramid Head, and The Sinclair brothers

Warnings: Mentions of real and fake blood, slightly suggestive content, gn reader, talk of drinking blood in The Lost Boys and Severen's section, violence, murder

Amanda Young

You weren't supposed to find out about what Amanda did. She wanted to keep you separate from the gore of her apprentice work. But accidents happen and somehow you get to where a trap had happened.

You were in the where-house when you slipped on a puddle of blood and got your entire front half covered in it. You screamed out and Amanda quickly came rushing in.

You standing there covered in blood made something tick inside of Amanda. Something she knows she shouldn't feel seeing you covered in blood.

But she pushes this aside and quickly assures you it's fake blood that happened to spill all over the ground. She can't stop herself from giving you a quick kiss before helping you leave.

She'll get you all cleaned up back at home but she won't be able to stop thinking about seeing you covered in blood.

Michael Myers

Michael was out while you were getting ready for a Halloween party. A part of your costume involved you getting drenched in fake blood. After pouring the fake blood all over yourself in your bathtub you let it dry and step out.

You're downstairs, gathering up your things for the party when you notice the feeling that you're being watched. You turn around and spot Michael watching you.

Michael knows what real blood looks like and considering you're pretty calm he knows this is for your costume. But something inside of him is yelling at him. Not in the usual 'kill someone' way, but in a 'get them and try not to hurt them' way.

You're going to be late to that Halloween party. Michael is going to stand there and make you spin around for him so he can watch you move while you're covered in blood. You know he's getting some kind of kick out of this, so who are you to stop his fun.

After this Michael will try to hint at you to get covered in blood more often. He'll even offer to get the blood this time, but it wouldn't be fake if he got it. He'll keep thinking about you covered in blood and won't be forgetting how it made him feel anytime soon.

Otis Driftwood

You walked in on him at a bad time. While you've grown to accept what your boyfriend does, you don't like partaking in his torture of other people. But when you walked into the wrong room at the wrong time you got sprayed all over with blood.

It coats your face, hair and chest. You thankfully didn't get any in your eyes or mouth. You do let out a scream of surprise but you're not too grossed out by the blood, living with the Firefly family for as long as you have will do that.

Otis takes a good long few moments to just stare at you. You're hot enough as it is, but seeing you all covered in blood like this? Otis is going to have to go take a long cold shower.

"Well isn't this my lucky day." He'll say before walking over to you, completely ignoring the victim now. He'll take all of you in and won't let you wash it off so quickly.

"I just wanna take a couple pictures of ya darlin'." He'll quickly get his camera out and have you pose for him while you're still covered in blood. This will come in handy when he's having art block or he just needs to have some 'personal time'.

The Lost boys

It's your first time feeding and it ended up getting really messy for you, considering you've never done it before. So you got just as much blood all over yourself as you did in your mouth.

Dwayne is the first to notice and he's smirking a little to himself as he watches your blood covered body move. He's committing this sight to memory and he'll probably find a way to get you covered in blood again.

David is the next to notice. He'll smile wider than Dwayne and make some comments about how messy eating can get at times. But he'll also talk about how hot you look covered in blood.

Marko doesn't even make a comment, he just straight up lunges and kisses you right then and there, fangs still out and everything. Seeing you all vamped out and covered in blood really got to him, making him loose all self composer that he has.

Paul also joins in on kissing you, but he'll opt for your neck since your mouth is taken. I can see him licking some blood off of you, but not too much because he loves the sight of you drenched in blood. But the boys will agree to try and get you that messy again the next time you feed.

Candyman

You didn't want to go with him. You summoned him and when he showed you how devoted he is to you, you didn't want to go. So he had no other option than to make you go by force.

You're entering your apartment after going to a Halloween party. Your costume was something you put together quickly and involved you pouring fake blood all over your front half. As you walk further into your apartment you get a strange feeling.

You try to ignore it as you walk to your bathroom to wash off the fake blood. Before you can do that you hear something moving in your medicine cabinet. You open it and after a few moments a hook jumps through it. You obviously scream and run out of your bathroom.

You're in your kitchen, picking up your phone when you see him again. He's looking at you with that same adoration in his eye from the first time you met him. He's looking you up and down. You're frozen again as he watches you.

"You're even more desirable covered in blood," He says in his sultry voice. You shed a couple tears as you try to move, but you're unable to. "I'll have to remember this the next time I see you my love. I'll never be able to forget this."

Doomhead

He knew you were going to a Halloween party, but what he didn't know was that you were going to be covered in blood when you came home. He knows real blood from fake blood and when he sees you he can't help but chuckle.

31 is coming up and he's always tried to keep you separate from it. Seeing you covered in blood is a bit of a double edged sword for him. On one hand he loves seeing you covered in blood, but he also can't stop thinking about 31, and what would happen if you got caught in it.

"Ok so I got a little too close to one of the decorations and I accidentally got covered in fake blood." You explain, taking off your shoes, "I should probably shower all of this off."

"Well I was hoping to get a better look at you like this." He says with a Cheshire grin. You roll your eyes but smile and walk over to him. He spins you around a bit, taking a good look at all of the blood on you.

He knows he'll have to tell you about 31 eventually, and that he'll always keep you away from it. But for right now he can enjoy watching his s/o look stunning while covered in blood.

Patrick Bateman

He got a little too careless and right as he was killing someone you walked in, getting covered in blood from the victim. You of course start to scream and he quickly covers your mouth.

He's so angry with you for interrupting this, but something about seeing your face and body covered with blood, excites him. "I can explain this. Calm down and listen to me." He says, trying to keep his voice calm. His anger starts to mix with arousal as he slowly slides his hand away from your mouth.

"Oh my god Patrick what happened? Who is this?" You ask, holding back tears. His attraction to you is starting to get a bit too much for him. He'll find a way to explain this murder, just like he'll find a way to explain why he wants to do it while you're covered in blood.

"He broke in and attacked me. I had to fight him off and I went a bit too hard I think. We can't tell anyone about this alright?" He says, trying his best to keep a calm, in control voice, "But right now we need to get to the bedroom.

Murder's don't get him as excited as seeing you covered in blood got him. He'll have to go out and buy some fake blood and recreate this with you again. He's glad he has such an understanding s/o.

Severen Van Sickle

It's been awhile since your last feed and when you finally got someone you could barely hold back from drinking as quickly as possible. Because you were so worried about eating as much as you could as quickly as possible you got yourself covered in blood.

After you pushed the body away Severen took notice of your blood soaked clothes. He couldn't stop himself from smiling and taking a good long look at you. He knows you'll be too full to do anything after feeding that much so he'll have to commit this sight to memory, just for some fun activities later.

You wipe your mouth and smear more blood over your face and Severen can barely contain himself at this point. He'll have to quickly ask you if you're up to help him, or if he should do it alone.

Either way he doesn't want you cleaning yourself up anytime soon. Even after his issue is taken care of he just wants to see you covered in blood. He loves how it looks in general but also aesthetically. If he has a camera on hand he's taking a picture of you.

He will try to recreate this later. Next time you're feeding he'll try to get blood all over you. I can see him filling up his mouth with blood and just spitting it on you because let's be honest, he's very dirty and probably has as many diseases as a stray cat.

Pyramid Head

You're walking around Silent Hill, trying to find some more food to stock up on when you come across one of Pyramid Head's recent kills. You don't notice and you slip on the puddle of blood.

You're used to the blood and gore of living with Pyramid Head in Silent Hill so slipping on blood and getting it all over your clothes is more of an inconvenience than scary. You groan and stand up, looking at blood slightly dripping off your clothes.

You turn around and find him standing near you. "I just slipped on some blood. It's not mine and I'm not hurt." You say. You can never really tell what he's feeling or his emotions but you can sense he's feeling a certain way about you being covered in blood.

You two just stand there while Pyramid Head is thinking about smearing more blood all over you. Seeing you covered in blood is doing something to him. So he walks over, get's blood on his hands and rubs it over your face and clothes.

He'll follow you around and just keep watching you while you're covered in blood. He'll be thinking about this for awhile, and he'll try to recreate it whenever there's free time or he just needs to see you covered in blood.

Bo Sinclair

You were busy going after a victim and it got a bit messy. You got yourself covered in blood. By the time you get the body back to the House of Wax the blood that's on your hair and face has dripped down to soak your clothes even more.

You hand it off to Vincent and when Bo sees you he pauses for a moment before he chuckles. "I like yer new look darlin'." He says teasingly. But he's using that teasing to mask how damn hot you are covered in blood.

You're able to pick up on this and you know a great way to get him back for making you chase down someone and kill them.

"Oh I know. I love this look too." You say teasingly back to him, moving your hands up and rubbing your hand over your face and neck, getting a good amount of blood on it. You walk over to Bo and smear the blood on his shirt before you step back.

"Too bad I'm about to wash it off." You say before you dodge Bo trying to grab you, "If you catch me before we get to the house I'll let you wash it off." You say before running out of the house, Bo follows behind quickly.

Lester Sinclair

You're helping Lester out by picking up a deer from the road. You're in the middle of lifting it into the truck when something happens and you get covered in deer blood.

Lester quickly rushes over to you and lifts the deer into the back of the truck. He's looking you over and making sure that you're ok. You'll have to assure him at least ten times that you're perfectly ok and that the deer just got blood all over you.

Now knowing that you're ok he does kind of realize that, you look good covered in blood. Lester loves when you get a bit dirty in general, but blood has him feeling a bit more excited than normal.

He'll zone out a bit for awhile until you bring him back and he acts like everything is good and he's totally not obsessing over the look of you covered in blood.

He'll keep this to himself until it starts to boil over and he admits to you that he hasn't stopped thinking about you being covered in blood. If you suggest the idea of getting covered in blood again he'll be all over that idea.

Vincent Sinclair

When you offered to model for Vincent's study you didn't expect to get covered in fake blood. But Vincent wanted you covered in blood and you didn't really mind so that's what the two of you do.

You stay still the entire time but you notice Vincent staring more than he is drawing. But once he notices you noticing him he gets back to drawing you.

He takes his damn well time to draw you and at one point he stands up and walks over to you. He starts to pose you in a different way and it's totally not an excuse to touch you and see you covered in blood up close.

He'll put you in so many different positions and will keep pouring blood on you. He's honestly memorized by you standing there covered in blood. At one point he'll bust out the camera and ask if he can film.

He sees you being covered in blood in a more romantic, artistic way that makes his heart beat faster. He'll have to get you covered in blood more often so he can draw, paint, photograph, etc you.

#amanda young x reader #amanda young #michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #michael myers #otis driftwood x reader #otis driftwood #the lost boys x reader #lost boys x reader #candyman x reader #candyman #doomhead x reader #doomhead #patrick bateman x you #patrick bateman x reader #pyramid head x reader #pyramid head #severen x reader #severen near dark #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #slasher x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction

[man-moth-hook-hand]

#the lost boys #tlb #the lost boys 1987 #blade #blade 1998 #deacon frost #deacon frost blade #deacon frost blade 1998 #fright night #fright night 1985 #near dark #severen van sickle #severen near dark #severen near dark 1986 #vampire #vampires #from dusk till dawn #john carpenters vampires

[bonniebird]

1980s (mostly) obscure Horror movie references in Stranger Things

#stranger things #bonniebird #the lost boys #near dark #halloween 1978 #eddie munson #steve harrington #michael emerson #sam emerson #edgar frog #alan frog #star the lost boys #nancy wheeler #severen van sickle #severen near dark #michael myers #there's more but i can only upload thirty at a time and i cba to make more lol

[vampirewrestlinglover]

#buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #spike btvs #near dark #near dark 1987 #severen near dark #vampire poll

[e1dritchjackal0pe]

You're Just a Fellow, Darlin' (Severen x F!Reader)

Summary: When trouble in paradise ruins your otherwise perfect life, you find yourself fleeing in a rented car and heading off into the sunset. Stopping for a quick bite to eat along your journey in a dusty roadside diner, trouble finds you there too. And things quickly take a turn for the worse.

Notes: Around 11.4k words. This is a prequal to my first fic, Stripped Bare, but you don't have to read it for this one to make sense. Caleb remains turned and everyone lives AU.

Warnings: Cannon typical violence, death, blood. Severen is NOT nice in this. He sees the reader as prey and treats her as such until right up at the end. He gets a little nicer. The reader does not like Severen in this, apart from mild flirting in the beginning, but all those feelings quickly go out the window due to regular Hooker clan antics. The reader goes through it in this. Violence such as biting at and aggressive hair pulling is committed against her, so please don't read if that is triggering to you.

Part II

You should have known it would have turned out this way. It was doomed from the start, feigned interest and superficial attraction embellished underneath plastic "I love you's" and planned kisses. What hurts you the most is how blind you were to it all. Force fed lies by everyone in your life, Sam, his father, your friends- hell even your own parents had told you that you were just making assumptions. Being paranoid.

That all of the late work nights, the impromptu business meetings, the abrupt hushed phone calls throughout the day. They were perfectly normal things. Nothing to be concerned about. "It's just business, muffin. " Your father had told you once, reading the morning paper while sipping coffee from a ceramic mug. " He has to make money for all those pretty dresses you wear somehow." 

God, you had been so stupid. You had let everyone blindfold you and muffle your ears because you were too afraid of the truth. Too scared to accept the fact that the man you have loved since you were nineteen had turned his back on you. He spat on your three-year long relationship like it was nothing. All for his secretary . . . And that cute blonde maid at his father's country club. 

You can't help glancing away from the cracked backroad to sneer at your left hand that clutches the steering wheel in a death grip. Your ring finger is now startlingly bare, no longer shackled by the thick band of yellow gold and the obnoxiously large sapphire diamond - a horrid caricature of princess Diana's engagement ring. Lack of originality is what it was.  And to think you had been so overjoyed when he had gotten down on one knee and proposed. But you do still feel some satisfaction to know that the ring is gone. Sold off in some greasy pawn shop off the street corner back in Scottsdale.  About 90 miles behind you. You technically didn't need the money. You had your own little stash of savings despite Sam's insistence that you didn't need to worry about such things. That he'd provide for you. Yeah, right. Initially you had been tempted to flush it down the toilet. The less petty side of you had even contemplated simply leaving it on the table next to his side of the bed. But then you had a thought- why give up all of that free money? It is technically your ring. It was bought with you in mind, right? You could at least get something out of it. 

And so that afternoon, you had found yourself standing behind the glass case of a pawn shop. Scanning the numerous arrays of items from the safety of the display case. Everything from antique pistols to frosted bracelets, passing the time while the man on the other side of the counter examined the ring you had proudly worn only a few hours ago, squinting at it through a loupe magnifying glass, delicately turning it this way and that. 

"I'll give you five thousand for it," he suddenly speaks, pulling your attention away from a velvet tray showcasing old war medals. You can't even contain the scoff that leaves you, all decorum and self-restrain completely ran thin after the night before. "That's nearly a twenty-thousand-dollar ring." You counter, eyebrows pinching with poorly disguised frustration. 

He chuckles with a loose shrug that telegraphs his opinion better than his words ever could. Not my problem, it had said. His stained dentures peeking out from behind his lips when he goes to bite in a horridly dry looking donut, flakes of the glaze chipping and falling onto his button up. 

"That's my price. Take it or leave it." 

As previously stated, you didn't technically need the money. You had your cheque book, but not all places took cheques. You had your bank card, but a lot of places outside of big, wealthy cities still didn't have the machines to even use them. You needed the cash. And despite the fact that the man is woefully skimming you on the price, five thousand is still five thousand. 

So, with a great amount of swallowed pride and defeat you managed to grit out a stiff: "Fine. I'll take it." 

And now you're driving down a desolate road, seated inside a rented Ford Escort, with long stretches of the vast desert on either side of you. It's a boxy little car that Sam would have absolutely turned his nose up at. Good. Both of the front windows are completely down, letting the warm summer air tunnel inside the cabin of the car and tussle your hair around. The radio is on full blast, with a random rock music blaring out the vehicle's speakers without care. You tried to find a steady station earlier but had quickly given up whenever the music would dip down low and speckle out into static every time you drove through a patch of slopping hills. It was gorgeous, you have to admit. The way the landscape shifted from soft creams and rich rusted oranges and browns, with saguaro cactuses looming across the expanse of the dry desert floor like tall watching figures. 

But what struck you the most was sunsets. The ones you got back in New York were often dull. Muted by layers of pollution and the glow of the city lights, blocked by the sheer scale of the skyscrapers that blocked out the sun. It couldn't compare to the sheer vibrancy that painted the sky out here. 

With the sun dipping low, just barely peeking over the horizon, splashing shocking shades of pink and gold across the faint blue. It was also a painful reminder that this was all temporary. That eventually your little joy ride would have to come to an end. You would have to return to New York and face reality. Listen to the barrage of questions and accusations that would no doubt be thrown your way like stones and rotten tomatoes. You couldn't wait for the disapproving glare your mother would give you. The disbelief and disappointment. The excuses from Sam and the arrogant satisfaction that would waft from his parents. They never liked you anyway. Luckily, you still had your own apartment. Thank God that past you had the foresight to keep it and drag your feet on it giving up. That at least means that you won't have to stay with your parents or burden one of your friends by laying up in their place. You're not sure if you could stomach that honestly. 

Up ahead you notice a glint of a red light shining in the growing dark from a muted outline. It takes a few more minutes for the building to take shape, but you're quick to recognize it as a quaint little diner. The first thing you notice when you pull into the gravel parking lot is that the roof is in shambles, the old tiles cockeyed and skewed looking like they might take off in a good storm, and a red neon 'open' sign flickers unsteadily from behind a window - the only thing that would let you know that the building isn't abandoned, if not for the couple of cars scattered about out front. And there's a random statue of a horse standing next the dusty glass entrance. It looks like someone tried to paint it brown some time ago, but the paint has begun to chip from years of enduring open weather, exposing the grey base underneath. 

It's . . . cute . . . in a rustic sort of way. But you could hardly care about the aesthetic. Your legs could use a stretch and you honestly haven't eaten much today apart from a hastily grabbed bag of potato chips the last time you were at a gas station. And you should have a decent amount of distance put between you and your fiancé - ex fiancé. 

The bell above the door chimes when you enter, announcing your arrival. But the first thing you notice is how empty it is. Not that you were expecting it to be packed full and brimming. The lighting is a tired gray tone, which does nothing to combat the cool tones of the white walls and you can hear the light fixtures buzzing with electricity, almost competing with a low energy country song playing in the background. You don't notice any staff, but you do spot an older couple - the only customers apart from yourself - sitting at the first booth to your right, the pair leaning conspiratorially over a collection of post cards spread over the tabletop. Old love birds probably here to see the Grand Canyon and Tombstone. You wonder how long they've been together. How they've managed to find love in someone over all the years.  "What do you think about this one, Curtis?" She's asking, tapping a glazed card with a manicured nail. "Do you think he'll like this one?" 

You turn away from the private exchange to perch yourself at the L shaped counter, sitting on the tearing and stiff vinyl of the stool cushion and notice a sheet of pale paper sticking out against the faint yellow of the counter. The bold letters atop proudly declare that it's the menu that you notice as the standard font from a computer and the page is laminated with thick strips of packing tape. The low effort does have you wondering if you might be risking the chance of food poisoning, but with the combination of a shitty few days and a rumbling stomach, you can hardly find the energy to care. 

Suddenly there's an exchange of yelling coming out from past the serving window that peers into the kitchen, making you pause in your examination of the menu. You can hardly make out the words thrown back and forth, but the tones are heated. It sounds like a man and a woman, and the latter is confirmed when a frazzled woman comes barreling out of the kitchen, leaving the swinging door to slam up against the bar, rattling the glass cake displays and napkin dispensers. And based on the name tag - Rachel it read - she seems to be the waitress. The man's voice must belong to the cook . . . or maybe the owner then. She looks mortified when she sees you, face flushing pink and you do your best to reassure her with a soft smile. 

" I'm so sorry you had to hear that, " she tries to laugh but it's strained and short and not at all convincing. 

"It's alright, " you replied with a light shrug. "I could hardly make out what was said. And I think the pair behind me are too engrossed in their post cards to notice." 

That seems to settle her a bit, shoulders relaxing. Her eyes notice the menu in your hands, and she nods her chin. " You see anything on there you'd like?" 

You glance back down on the back, going back down the quaint list available with a hum. "Just a cheeseburger with cheddar and a side of fries is fine. And a coke. "

She's quick to give you your drink before she leaves with your order, slipping back into the kitchen to deliver it personally. And you can't help but feel bad for sending her back into the hypothetical lion's den. You take a moment to breath and really focus on events of today. How you wound up in a dusty diner in the middle of nowhere after spending the first few days of your vacation alongside the country clubs pool in a sleek hot pink two-piece bikini, drinking mixed drinks and enjoying the sun while Sam spent his time playing golf with his father and new colleagues. 

And that's how you found him. After days of trying to get him to go out, to go on a date like a normal couple, and him deflecting, saying that he was busy with his father's business friends, you found him balls deep in the young housekeeper that you had seen pushing a maid cart down one of the halls a few days before. She was moaning in that exaggerated way that porn stars do. 

For a moment you all you did was stand there. You didn't know how to react, water soaking the carpet from your damp feet, still wet from your recent swim in the pool. And there was a nasty voice in your head telling you that it was your fault. That it was all of your paranoia and insecurities that had drew him away from you. That it had probably made you distant and cold and you were too caught up in your own fears to see the strain you had put on him and your relationship. 

But it wasn't your fault. You weren't crazy. You were right the entire time. All of those little glances that his assistant used to send him, the looks that would linger a bit too long. Like the time that you had showed up to his office to surprise him. You had known how stressed he was at his job, the workload pilling up with no end in sight and so you figured you'd pop in and see him. It was after hours but the guard knew you and let you in regardless. And when you were rounding around the corner of cubicles the door of his office had swung open and she had walked out, tugging at the edge of her skirt to smooth it out. And when she had saw you, her body visibly stiffening while she blurted out a quick hello, quickly followed by a hasty excuse for her rushed leaving. Something about being late for something. 

When you had entered Sam's office, he looked put together enough, except the first few buttons of his shirt were undone and his tie was on his desk. It was the first red flag that you had avoided, slipping on your rose-tinted glasses. And the worried phone calls to your mother did nothing but convince you that you were trying to make something out of nothing. "You're just nervous about the wedding, " she had said, " Sam is the best thing that's happened to you. Don't go and ruin this opportunity over some cold feet." 

And then there you were last night. Him and the maid. She had screamed when she noticed you standing there, nearly kicking him with her foot and sending him off the bed. She was up faster than you could blink, snatching up her clothes and taking a linen sheet with her as makeshift cover, rambling apologies under her breath, saying that she didn't know as she slipped out of the room leaving you to numbly stand and stare at your naked fiancé. 

He had tried everything to get you to stay. A pathetic amount of 'I'm sorry's" streaming out of him. Claiming that it wasn't you it was him, it was stress from work, that he didn't mean to, that he'd never do it again. You had spent the night in a separate room, and you were gone in the morning without as so much as a note. 

The bell above the door chimes, too cheerful for its gritty environment, and you boredly look over your shoulder to see what other wayward soul has stumbled in. It's definitely an interesting band of characters to say the least, a family you'd assume. With a platinum haired woman ushering a young boy in by the shoulders who looks less than enthused about being guided to a booth on the left side of the diner, openly grumbling under his breath. They're closely followed by a lithe, stoic looking man who looked about as friendly as the mean dog that your old neighbors had chained out in front of their house. The one who would lunge at the fence and snarl whenever you'd walk past to get to the bus stop. The glare he had cast across the room felt like the blade of a cold knife running across your skin. And there was a young couple behind him, the young man's arm curled around the girl's shoulders while she tried to lean into him as they walked, whispering secretly to each other like they were the only people in left in the world. 

Young love. They'd be at each other's throats soon enough. Or maybe you're just bitter. 

And despite the clear dynamic between the group, the sense of family that comes from them you can't help but feel like you're looking at something odd. There's a faint chill that runs down your spine like some quiet subconscious part of you is trying to get you attention. You feel a bit of guilt gnaw at you. You had no right thinking about a random group of strangers like that. 

And you nearly look away but then a hand is catching ahold of the door before it can swing closed and someone else is stepping inside with the sound of jingling accompanying each step. It takes you a second to notice the spurs strapped to the heels of his scuffed cowboy boots. Your eyes continue to trail upwards, past the glinting silver of his belt buckles - two belts? - and up the expanse of his torso, taking in the black leather jacket, decorated with badges and medals and other little embellishments like the tiny metal longhorn heads that decorate the edges of the coats collar. There's a beaded necklace around his throat in a pattern of yellow, red, yellow, and black. And it reminds you of that little rhyme you heard a long time ago about how to tell if a snake is venomous or not. 

Red and black, safe for Jack. Red touching yellow, kill a fellow. 

You can't help but wonder if it applies to him as well. Then you get up to his face where an all too wide grin sits. Like a jack o' lantern, you muse. But despite the unsettling quality to his smile, you can't deny that he's an attractive man in a rough and wild sort of way. He looked like someone you'd see mentioned in a Rolling Stone publication or in a messy pop culture magazine discussing rockstars. 

" Looks like we struck gold again!" He hoots sarcastically, either completely unaware of the volume of his voice or simply not caring and you take note of the southern drawl that honeys his words. His eyes scan over the room, trailing over the older couple in the corner who have since looked up from their cards to squint at the man causing all the noise. He winks at them in a cheeky sort of way, completely shameless. "It's gonna be slim pickins' tonight!" 

Before you have time to evaluate that little remark, the waitress is pushing the kitchen door open, carrying a plate holding a burger and fries in one hand. It's either the sudden sound or the weight of your stare that has the stranger looking over in your direction and the hold of his eyes on you seems to siphon the air from your lungs. Blue, the thought rings across your mind, they're a stormy sort of blue. 

You turn away from him, like a scolded child who got caught doing something that they shouldn't have and focus down on your plate, the hollow pit of your stomach reminding you why you're even here. To eat, not to ogle at strange men. No matter how handsome they may be.  

"Well, they sure are a colorful little group, aren't they," Rachel whispered in an amused sort of way, watching as the family piles into the booth. With the mother, her son and the father filling up one side and the couple on the other. The cowboy straggles behind, instead opting to stay outside the table, leaning over it and propping himself up on both hands while the group discusses something amongst themselves. But you see a bit of unease flit across her face, and it gives you some pause. Surely, they couldn't be that much different from the other types of people that frequent this place. It makes you wonder if she felt what you had. The feeling that came with crossing paths with something dangerous. Like walking into the grocery store and seeing a bear ransacking the shelves. 

"I'm sure they aren't as bad as they look, " you encourage before biting into a fry. And she nods along like she's trying to amp herself up. " A customer's a customer. " She replies in a worn but robotic drone, like the words have been drilled into her head. Probably by management. And then she's dipping out from behind the counter leaving you to enjoy your meal by yourself. You nearly moan at the first bite of your burger. It's nothing show stopping. But it's good. Good enough to quell the empty rumbling in your gut with a couple of bites. 

"What's a sweet thing like you doin' in a shithole like this?" That sugary voice breaks out across the quiet. And it takes a moment for you to realize that the question is even addressed to you. And you're twisting around on the stool with a mouthful of food bulging from your cheeks while your mothers voice scolds you from the recesses of you mind for having such bad manners. You come face to with a chest covered in a worn white wife beater that's definitely seen better days and you're swallowing the bite of food as your gaze continues upwards until it locks with a set of piercing baby blues.  

The rockstar.

"I was hungry," you respond bluntly. Cut and dry. You figured that would have been enough to give him the hint that you weren't in the mood for idle chit chat or mindless flirting, but he doesn't remove himself from the way that he leans against the countertop, suspending his weight on a single elbow and cocking a hip. "Well, shit darlin' I've ate better slop from the inside of a jail cell," he chuckles at his own joke, and you honestly can't tell if the comment was a joke or not. Firstly, the food isn't even that bad. A bit greasy but not bad. Worse case you'd probably get a stomachache, which is pretty small in terms of how awful your past few days have been. 

"I'm sorry, are you trying to flirt with me?" you ask, huffing incredulously. "Because, if you are, most guys like to leave out the fact that they've been arrested. " 

He doesn't take offence to it like you'd expect, but instead little hiccups of laughter bubble up from his chest like it's the funniest thing he's heard in a while. " Oh, those? Just a coupla thievin' charges." He admitted airily, like he was talking about something casual. Like work or he was commenting on the weather. "Plus, that was years ago. " And he's waving a hand in the air, gesturing like it isn't important, and all you can do is watch him, smiling from disbelief - not amusement - while you rove over his features like they might be the answer to the oddness of the entire situation. 

"What is your plan exactly? " You ask, sipping from the straw of your coke without looking away from him. "I mean, you're here with who I assume is your family. Probably on vacation. So, what was the goal? That you were going to sweep me off my feet and we'd grind one out in the bathroom?" You shake your head. At one time you would have had more tact. You would have chosen your words carefully and danced around the topic. But not tonight. You look away to read the clock that hangs above the serving window, silently reading the minute and hour hand. 8:13 it told you. You should probably get a move on in a bit and find lodgings for the night. Hopefully the next town over won't be too far over, but everything is so spread out on the west coast, less compact and huddled than the east." Classy." You remark without any sense to cover your scorn. 

"Shit, girl what kinda John's are you used to? I was just tryin' to make a bit o' conversation," he laughs, combing a hand through his hair as he turns just a notch to look over at his family and Rachel is standing in front of their table, no doubt trying to get their order, but she looks tense and rattled. But then again. you've practically known her for five minutes and that seems to be her default state. "I ain't that bad, am I?" 

The group doesn't answer verbally instead chortling at the question like a pack of coyotes yipping at the joy of a successful hunt and it gives you the feeling that he might be worse. 

"You're about as welcomin' as shit on someone's doorstep, " the kid sneers, and you can't help but gawk at the language that comes out of his mouth and how openly he insults an adult and assumed relative. But what is even more surprising is the way that his mother doesn't make a move to scold him. Instead, it's the cowboy that speaks out, leaning forward like he might leap across the distance that separates them and throttle the kid, hissing out a strained " shut up, Homer before I tan yer hide," between his teeth and then he's turning his attention back to you, the irritated scowl that he wore was now gone in a flash, like a switch had been flipped he was smiling like the exchange hadn't happened. "Aw, shit darlin' - I've seemed to've left my manners at the door. The name's Severen," and he's extending his hand for you take. "Do I get a name to go with a pretty face?" 

You let go of the hold you have around your plastic soda glass to accept his hand, exchanging a firm shake. You really don't know why you're even entertaining this random stranger. Severen. An odd name if you've ever heard one. It defiantly fits the leather cowboy rockstar aesthetic he has going on. Sure, he seems a little shady, but he has a sort of magnetic charm that keeps you from tossing a few bills on the counter and leaving the diner all together. It also helps that he seems to be a complete one-eighty of Sam, who was all forced politeness and feigned confidence. His words always seemed a bit too rehearsed, like he was a part of a scripted play and was forced to do improve on the spot. He was always trying to sell something, even outside of the office. Whatever dominate personality was in the room he'd mold himself to imitate it like a chameleon. An old business trick he had told you. And maybe it was. It had certainly worked on you. The empty promises, the constant stream of expensive gifts, the vacations to private islands and resorts. They were all just pretty distractions to keep you blind to his awful personality. 

But this random stranger carries himself like time operates on his whim. Like he could tell the world to stop, and it'd quit breathing entirely until he gave it the okay. He was the kind of man that your mother warned you not to go near. The type you'd see hanging outside of seedy bars on the nights that you and your friends would sneak out of your homes to go wander around town, sipping from gas station slushies and gossiping near the old train tracks. And your mother was right to warn you all those years ago. Guys like him can be dangerous. Maybe it's all your bent out emotions getting the better of you, but you kind of like it. 

And truthfully, it feels a little validating to have a guy - especially one as attractive as he is to approach you and strike up a conversation. After Sam's betrayal and the menagerie of twisted and self-depreciating emotions that came with it, it feels good to know that you're still wanted. Even if the attention is coming from a random man in a lonely roadside diner that ultimately won't go anywhere. You've never been the type to entertain men. Granted it's mostly due to the fact that you and Sam had officially put a label on your relationship when you were twenty-one, so your experience with flirting and one-night stands are quite limited. But this wasn't something that was going to go anywhere. It was simply something to pass the time before you set off and head back out on the road. Two strangers sharing a conversating before going on with their lives. It was harmless. So, you tell him your name and he parrots it back like he's trying to memorize it and it shocks you how much you like the sound of it dressed under his voice, sweetened under his southern drawl. It's Texan you think. 

"A pretty name for a pretty lady." 

"You lay it on thick, don't you?" 

"Well, I've never been one to skim it when it comes to the truth. " He flashes that charming grin again, and you glance down at the fries and shuffle them around the plate to distract yourself from it. You hate the heated flutter that fills your stomach at the sight of it. "So, what's a guy like you doing in a place like this?" You shoot back at him, not word for word but you can tell by the twinkle in his eyes that it amuses him, nonetheless. 

"About what you said, family vacation. Sightseeing and all that. " You nod along with him, thumbing at the straw of your drink while you meet the dark blue of his eyes. The conversation fizzles out. But not in an awkward or uncomfortable manner. It feels completely natural; the silence that falls over you both. And you just barely register the outside noise. The soft, idle chatter of the elderly couple, the hum of the old lights, the dull drone an energetic rock song, but then a sharp abrupt sound is breaking the spell that fell over you. The sound of someone clearing their throat. Not in the way you might do to dislodge something from your throat but in a way that demands attention and both you and Severen are looking back over to the booth where his family sits. It's the older man who fixes Severen with a stare. Firm and a little chastising. There's another quality to it that you can't make out and it has a cold shiver trickling down your spine. Severen doesn't verbally respond, but the exasperated look he gives the man seems to carry words of its own, the two of them seemingly having an entire conversation with only two heavy stares. It makes you feel awfully singled out. The shift from the flirty banter and light energy to a looming, heavy air happens so quickly that your brain is still struggling to comprehend it. It's like you've been foolishly stumbling about and have suddenly walked into a room that you shouldn't have, and then there's a cold nagging feeling that you need to get up from the stool and leave the building. But you don't. 

"We gotta get a move on now, Severen." His voice is resolute and fixed, holding no room for argument and despite the fact that his attention hasn't shifted from the man standing next to you, you feel just as affected by the piercing tone. You just so happen to glance down on the table, noticing the lack of drinks or appetizers on the counter and for some reason it flares up a little red flag in your brain. 

Severen sighs in an exaggerated way, like a kid who's been told they couldn't have something and then his attention returns to you, but it feels too stifling. The playful warmth that was once lighting up the blue is now gone. His eyes are sharp and burning with laser focus and you feel like a rabbit caught between a lethal maw. "Sorry to cut our time short darlin,' " he purrs out from an almost manic grin. " You've been a real treat." 

It's all a blur then, cuts of color and streaks of light, and you think that you can hear someone screaming, shrill and pained, but that can't be right, right? There's a white expanse above you, stained with water marks and muted from years of being exposed to cigarette smoke. It's all sluggish, like trying to focus when you're several drinks deep and seeing double, but there's a searing, overwhelming sting slicing throughout the column of your neck, and it grounds you somewhat. Enough to blink back the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. Enough for you to realize that you're staring at the ceiling and that there's a rough, white knuckled grip threaded through your hair keeping your head tilted at an excruciating degree. And then you can feel a body pressed against yours, an arm cinched across your waist to hold you close. 

You can feel a damp heat pouring down your throat and underneath your shirt. Every bit helps you focus. But it's the throbbing ache that takes ahold of your mind and jostles the fog free, lifting the curtain to expose you to all the pain. The sting, the white-hot scorching burn of teeth embedded in the flesh of your neck. There's a tongue laving at the skin held between his jaw, working blood into his mouth. Blood. Your blood. He's biting you. He's fucking biting you! 

A freezing cold grips your heart. A terrified fluttering thing that seizes your limbs and keeps you frozen in place while your brain short-circuits between the conflicting commands of either fighting or remaining still in fear. In the midst of your panic some tiny shred of self-preservation takes ahold of you, and you reach into your front jean pocket with a shaking hand while the man continues to gulp at the red that flows from you, moaning around your neck. Your fingers quiver unsteadily, from the fear, the overflow of adrenaline, the blood loss that starts to mist the corners of your vision. But you continue your blind search until your fingertips curl around the set of keys in your pocket. Ignoring the other horrified cries that echo around the diner, the sharp clatter of glass breaking on the tiles, the squeal of someone's shoes slipping across the floor in a wild struggle you secure your grip on the keys and pull them from your pocket as quickly as possible without having them slip from your unsteady hold. 

Your sight blurs just a bit. From the tears or the blood loss you aren't sure and the rock song, despite the low volume being projected over the speakers is suddenly too load, drumming in your ears along with the erratic pulse of your heart and the gulping of the man latched to your neck. And your sluggish brain is suddenly grappling with the fact that you might die here. 

It's enough to still your shaky resolve, thumbing the key to direct the point of it forward like knife. It's small, the edge quite dull. You'd have to drive it in deep for it to do any damage. It won't kill him, but hopefully it will be enough to get him to let you go. 

You draw in a frail gasp, pulling a weak draw of air into your lungs to try and give yourself more focus around the panic that's currently fraying your nerves. Securing your grip around your sweaty palm you don't give yourself time to think, to second guess yourself that it may not work. You're drawing your arm back and striking forward, hoping that you manage to hit something of importance in your visionless jab. You're right in your aim, and the tiny strip of steel is burrowing deep into his side, wiggling your wrist to work it in deeper. 

There's a brief feeling of elation, of righteous satisfaction that courses through you when he jerks away from the crook of your neck with a startled yelp that tells you he's more surprised than injured. He practically pushes you away from himself, spitting out insults and curses. The shove sends you falling, your body too weak in your current state to keep you upright, lethargic and drained, and you land on your knees and the heels of your palms. The deep ache you feel from the impact is quickly shoved to the side, while you clumsily scramble back upright, shoes slipping in a puddle of a deep scarlet that you distantly register as blood.

You try not to look, to take in the carnage that taints the room. You try not to notice the young couple who now sit at the bar, sitting side by side while they both drink from Rachel's body like they're sharing a milkshake with their faces smeared red. You try not to see the elderly woman slumped at her booth with her neck sliced open cleanly; blood splattered across the little postcards that she had just been excitedly prattling about sending off to family or friends. And there's a blood trail dragging across the tiles and at the end of it is her husband. And the kid - Jesus even the kid is in on it, curled over her dead husband's body, latched onto his throat. 

The sound of Severen's angry cursing has all of their attention snapping over to you, and you feel like a wounded rabbit surrounded by a pack of rabid coyotes. 

Everything falls to a standstill like you're all collectively holding your breath, waiting to see who will make the next move. And it's you who does, bolting towards the exit, and you can hear them all collectively move after you, but you don't look back, not even when you hear someone shout out: "God dammit! Someone grab er!" 

You're barreling out past the door, and Severen's swearing has melted into a deranged string of laughter, and it follows you on your way out like a taunt, still ringing in your ears while you're crossing the stretch of the parking lot, running faster than you've ever ran in your life. Like you've got the hounds of hell at your heels. Your shoes slip in the gravel, still slick from the blood that had coated the tiled floor and it feels like you're running in a dream, no matter how much distance you cross you're still in place, every foot between you and your car expanding out into a mile, and you think that you might not make it. You feel the tips of someone's fingers brush against the nape of your neck, but you don't even know if it's real or if your brain is just playing tricks on you. You almost miss the handle of the vehicle when you skid to a halt, key already at the ready to slip into the lock, but it's slick with blood and your grip is lose, and you're praying to someone out there, some higher power, or even the universe to not let it slip.

And you can hear the sound of rushed footsteps running up on you and it has another pump of adrenalin shooting into your already overloaded body, and it feels like its frying you alive. And one of them is shouting, a light feminine voice chanting "get her! You have to get her!" with a great deal of panic. You don't let yourself look back up to the diner, no matter how much you want gage the distance between you and them. You can't stomach the thought of glancing up and seeing one of them standing directly in front of you, dripping with blood and gore and so you force yourself to focus on working the key into the slot and twisting the lock open, and you nearly sob with relief when you swing the door open and slip inside the car. 

You're peeling out of the parking lot before you can even fully register it, fumbling to slam the driver side door closed, tires spinning in the dirt and gravel while you wildly careen out of the lot and onto the road in an unsteady swerve. And there's an unsettled laughter bubbling from your chest, rupturing from it like a geyser in an uncontrollable fit even though all you really want to do is scream and cry instead, and the music blaring from the radio does little to dampen your current hysteria, but you can't be bothered to reach for the dial and turn it down. Trying your best to breathe so that you can place your attention on maintaining your grip on the steering wheel and getting the hell away from here as quickly as possible. You glance back in the rear-view mirror despite every cell in your body telling not to. You don't want to see them. But you do. Standing out in front of the diner as still as ghosts, faded into dimensionless dark figures from the red neon of the building projecting from behind them in a hellish glow, growing smaller and smaller until they fade into nothing, and the lights are but a tiny pinprick in the distance. 

It takes you a moment to register that you're heading back in the direction of Scottsdale, which is now an uncomfortable distance away and now you're cursing the broad expanse of the desert. How everything out here stretches out for lonely, horrid distances. Mile's gapping between towns and houses. But you should have more than enough fuel to get to the gas station that you had stopped at about an hour or so into your journey. You should be okay. You just have to make it there and hopefully they'll have a landline phone that works, and you can call the cops. But what if they don't? A despairing voice laments somewhere in your mind, what if they aren't even open? You have to force the thought away to keep yourself from spiraling. You glance back into the rear-view mirror expecting to see headlights of a car speeding towards you, but it's nothing but a vast empty darkness. They aren't coming after you. 

But their lack of chase does little to quell the fear and cold dread nestling inside your body, if anything it fuels the panic. It's suspicious, the way they just gave up once you got to your car. Surely, they had done this before, if the way that they had all walked in the diner with ease and promptly dispatched of all the patrons and employees with a horrifying air of calm was any indication. They did it like it was routine. Like it was normal. And perhaps it was. Maybe this was a normal thing for them, slaughtering the poor souls who cross their paths in obscene acts of violence. But this wasn't even the typical serial killer stuff you often hear about. Kidnappings and stabbings. They were drinking their blood. He was drinking your blood. It reminds you of all the times that your mother used to go off on worried tangents about all the supposed satanic cults that are apparently spreading throughout the country, poisoning the children through rock music and D & D of all things.  "I heard it on the news," she had said with a vehemence that you didn't have the energy to challenge anymore. You had never put much stock into it all. The obvious fear mongering that daily new papers and overzealous preachers on the FM radio pumped out in a constant drivel. It had always sounded like bullshit to you, but now that you're speeding down the highway with a massive gash in the side of your neck, shaped by a set of teeth, you're starting to think that maybe there is a shred of possibility to it. You can't help but brokenly giggle at the prospect of it, the insanity of it all. Attacked by a psychotic blood cult. You sound crazy. This entire situation is crazy. 

You reach up to touch the wound on the side of your neck, initially flinching at the tender sting. You should probably try to find something to clean it up with, one of your old bottles of water is probably lying around on the floor, tucked underneath some seat, but you can't stomach the thought of pulling over and parking the car long enough to find it. You don't have anything to dress the wound with but luckily it seems as though the bleeding has stopped despite the skin around it still being damp with recent blood. You pinpoint the inflamed edges of the bite with your fingertips, lightly brushing down the expanse of it so not to irritate it any further. It starts just a few inches beneath your ear and stops just short of meeting your shoulder. That's odd. It feels a whole lot thinner than you would expect and less gnarled. Especially considering that it was a grown man that took a bite out of you. It has you flipping the sun visor down and angling it down to properly investigate the damage in between careful glances at the road. 

It's difficult to make out from underneath the grimy red coating your neck, but you can see the torn strips of flesh glinting underneath the dim glow casted by the rectangular lights bordering each side of the visor mirror. Two narrow gashes that are nowhere near the size you had expected. The wound is strangely small, the angry indents left by his teeth are thin like they're a few days into the healing process and not just a few minutes old. It must have been the adrenaline making it seem worse than it was. But then again, this entire night feels like it isn't real. Like it's a dream -a nightmare that you'd wake up from at any moment. 

Images of the diner flash across your mind, the gore and violence. Rachel's lifeless eyes staring at you, jarringly blank and empty like a broken doll while the young couple fed from her wrist and neck. The red smearing the pale floor, the screaming and banging of pots and pans from the kitchen that had told you that one of them had gotten ahold of the cook somewhere in the back. And it sounded like he was trying to fight them off. And you had left him. You had left him behind without a second thought. The realization hits you like a punch to the gut. You had been so desperate to get out and save your own skin that you didn't even think about anyone else or the chance that they might be alive before you ran out.  But what were you supposed to? If you had stayed behind even a second longer, he would have killed you. You would have been dead-

A short metallic scrape sounds from the roof of your car. Sudden and jarring and abrupt enough for you to jump in your seat and nearly jerk the steering wheel from your shaky grip. A rattled breath leaves you while you glance up at the cloth ceiling like it'll help identify the cause of the sound, and you all you can do is hope that it's something like the wind even though the idea of it sounds completely stupid. But you can't let yourself think of the other possibilities right now. Not when you're still two seconds away from a panic attack while behind the wheel and doing 85 mph down the road. You should probably slow down some now that you've placed some distance between you and them, but you can't seem to move your foot from the gas pedal no matter how much common sense is telling you to. 

And then you hear it again. That harsh cutting noise is slashing through the air over the droning of the engine and Joan Jett's blaring vocals. Definitely not the wind. And there's a dull shuffling that follows after it, heavy and scuffed, almost like -

A large bang erupts from above like a gun shot and a panicked fleeting looks up reveals that there's a dent in the roof, dipping inwards like someone had punched it, and it douses you like cold water and floods your system with another hefty load of adrenaline. The realization that someone is on top of the car. But before you can do anything, the roof above you is bursting open with a shrill grotesque shriek, splitting as easily as tinfoil and a hand is blindly reaching down, frantically snatching at the open air with bloodied fingers. You can't help the scream that escapes your lungs, tearing your already raw throat from its volume. And your already sluggish brain stalls between the directions of either slamming on the breaks or swerving across the road in the hopes of shaking them off that you don't do anything other than try to remain in control of the vehicle and evade the hand trying to claw its way into your hair, its rings snagging on the strands. Rings. You remember the jewelry that Severen had worn on his right hand, how he had tapped his knuckles on the counter when you were talking.  He's the one on your car. That's why they didn't all bother chasing after you, because they already had you. He must have leapt on when you were speeding out of the parking lot, too rattled and busy panicking to notice him climbing up the roof. 

While you're busy grappling with the situation his hand successfully snatches at your roots, pulling painfully tight at your scalp. You cry out in pain, trying to keep your eyes on the long stretch of road and keep control of the wheel while you reach up to claw at his wrist with your own nails, but it does nothing to deter him. If anything, he grips your hair harder, and you know that you're going to have to stop. Maybe if you break hard enough, you'll be able to shake him free and you can run him over on while you're on your way out of this shithole. So, you remove your foot from the gas pedal in the hopes of slamming on the brakes, but then he's securing his hold on your scalp and harshly jerking your head back against the head rest. Even though it's a dull pain, it's enough to disorient you and then the tires are squealing with the acrid scent of burnt rubber tainting the air. 

From the angle he has your head held at you can't see out of the windshield, but you can catch glimpses of the world rushing past you out of your peripherals. Blurs of the desert floor and dried shrubbery rushing past, and the car is harshly jolting over what must be rocks and dips in the ground. 

Admits the chaos you're able to free yourself from his grip just in time to see the barbed wire fence that you're approaching at full speed. But it's far too late to anything, not even the brakes would help to lessen the blow and all you can do is watch as the front of the car hits a heavy wooden fence post, crumpling inwards from the impact. Then it all flashes black under a blaze of searing white hot heat, a steady throb traveling across your skull in steady pulses. You can't help but groan from the pain. You have to force your eyes open and blink away the blurriness that obscures the edges of your vision. You don't know if it's been seconds or hours after the crash, but a quick scan of the pitch-black night around you and the thick stream of smoke that pours from the grill and twists up into the air lets you know that it couldn't have been too long. 

Then you hear the shifting of feet above you, shuffling against the roof and every step is like a gunshot going off. Another nail in your coffin. It fills you with pure dread, but you're too weak- your brain too muddled to move. You watch as a pair of cowboy boots drop onto what's left of the hood, jostling the body of the car from the weight of it, the spurs jingling in a way that sounds light and cheery, like a set of mocking giggles. 

He's dipping over at the waist so that he can look at you, eyes twinkling with crazed mirth and wearing a bloody grin that's too wide. And then he fucking waves at you. You're still too dazed to get out and run, or cuss him out, or do anything, so you settle for pinning him down with a steady glare, hoping that it conveys all of your boiling hatred while you try and shove down the fear running rampant inside your chest. 

Then he's excitedly leaping from the hood and landing on the ground hollering into the air like he just got off a rollercoaster. It's horrifying, the blatant joy that he's exhibiting like the killing and the chase were the ultimate pleasure of life. And while he's celebrating, you're doing your best not vomit. From the head trauma or the sudden empty gnawing in the pit of your stomach you aren't sure. But nausea is swimming in your head and gut and you're blindly fumbling for the door latch. You need to get out, you need to vomit, you need to run. And all the while he's dancing in place, clearly riding some sort of adrenaline rush. "God damn, yer a wild cat!" He's hollering, practically skipping over to the driver side door. You whimper under your breath from the pain and the fear and pathetically try to crawl over the center console to get to the opposing seat, but you can hear the door being jerked open while he chuckles and snatches your ankle. 

"Get off of me!" You shout, kicking out in the hopes that it would deter him some. Of course, it doesn't. If anything, it seems to amuse him further, even when one of them lands and you strike him dead center in the chest. It doesn't get so much as a gasp of air from him, like there isn't any in his lungs. He still has that unsettling feral grin on his face.  "No can do, sugar. Shoulda thought about that before you went an' stabbed me." 

The wild fear is overshadowed for a moment, as short as it is. "You fucking bit me!" You snap back, like a child bickering but you're still to dazed and caught up in the moment to even register how fruitless and bizarre the exchange is.  

"But you smelt so good, " he croons in a sing-songy lilt, still pulling your wiggling body towards his, now gripping ahold of your hips. "You can't blame a man for wantin' a taste." And he's pulling you up by the shoulders completely unbothered by the way you try to claw and rip at his chest and the exposed skin of his throat. His eyes are lit up under the dull cast of the interior light, barring you completely to the wild nature that lurks inside them. 

His teeth are fully exposed behind that horrible grin, and it feels like he's going to try and eat you alive. And you think he is. Of course, he is. Here to finish the job and drain you dry. They were always going to get you. Your car- your only chance of escape is totaled. And even if you somehow managed to overpower him and kill him the group he had traveled with is still out there. No doubt counting the seconds for his return. And the second they realize he's not coming back they'll be coming for you. In this dead empty desert with no houses or towns for miles. You'd collapse from exhaustion before you manage to find help, or some random person finds you alongside the road. 

A sense of helplessness rushes over you. A reluctant defeat. And you look up at him like hundreds of others have probably done before you and ask the question that that you've always made fun of the heroines and victims of countless movies for asking: "Why are you doing this?" 

But you need some sense of closure at least. A reason for all of the violence and horror that you've endured tonight. You try and focus through your blurred vision to search both of his eyes like you might find something of substance in them. Two deep pools of a smothering blue. There isn't a shred of sympathy in them.  He's shushing you in a dramatic mocking sense of kindness, cradling your jaw in his hands like he cares. You try to remove your face from his hold, but he doesn't let you, following your retreating face and caging it between his calloused grip. "There ain't nothin' you coulda done. You were jus' at the wrong place at the wrong time." It's said so matter-of-factly it shreds the final bits of hope that you clung to. 

And then he's leaning closer, dropping an arm to nuzzle at the wound on your neck, ignoring how you hiss and jerk away from him, desperate to evade the sting of his teeth, but it never comes. You feel him go still underneath you, muscles seizing like he's been struck, and it also gives you pause letting you focus through your aching muddled head and pick up on the little puffs of breath bursting across your throat. Is he . . . sniffing you?

Your head is suddenly back in his hands and he's peering down at you, squinting in the dim light like he's searching for something and all you can do is force your drooping eyelids open to warily watch him, trying to ignore the persistent vacant throb in your gut. A series of emotions cross his face, bewilderment, anger, and lastly a frustrated sort of acceptance. "You gotta be shittin' me."  Then he's tearing away from you, leaving your body to weakly sag back up against the driver's seat while he stomps at the ground and swears. You think about trying to make a run for it while he's distracted and busy throwing a fit over . . . something, but when your place your feet on the ground and try to stand you're startled by how horribly they shake. A tremor runs up your body and has you falling right back down on your seat. The blood loss and your crashing adrenaline rush seems to be catching up to you, leaving your body nothing more than a useless painful quivering mess and you could cry but you'll be damned if you give this bastard the twisted satisfaction of seeing your tears. 

The sound of you trying to stand seems to remind him of your presence and he's twisting around to look at you. And the two of you pause in a strange sort of standoff. He briefly gazes back off into the night like he might find an answer somewhere out among the darkness and rolling hills before looking back to you with a dejected sigh. Then he's walking back towards you, lifting his wrist up to his mouth and biting into it without flinching. 

The sight of that alone has you trying to scramble back again, but he's on you before you can blink. "Oh, quit yer fussin'. " He chides while holding you close against his chest. 

"Wha-" you can't even get the question out before he's sliding a bloody wrist against your open mouth. You flinch away from it, smearing it across your cheek and he tuts disapprovingly like he isn't trying to force feed you his blood. "C'mon now, don' be difficult." 

You had fully intended to scold him, whip out some barbed quip to get some sense of having the upper hand, no matter how miniscule it was in the long run, but then a bit of his blood drops along your tongue, and your brain is wiped clean of any coherent thought. You don't know what compelled you to do it, honest to God.  But suddenly you're latching onto his arm like it's a lifeline and gulping down the thick red that pours from the open wound. A thick metallic gush coats your tongue and it's almost too much but he's cradling the back of your head to keep you fixed to his arm. Then notes of something salted and faintly sweet rises up from the coppery flavor and you're pulling it into your mouth like its melted sugar. And you think you can hear him murmur something to you, something like, "see it ain't so bad, is it?" but his voice is distant and far away like he's talking to you from under water. 

That strange hollow pinch inside of your gut is back. It's like hunger almost, but it's also leagues away from any hunger you've ever felt. It feels like a sharp rabid thing is lose in your stomach, all teeth and claws, scratching at you from the inside, begging for you to give it more. And the flow of blood the pours freely from his wrist suddenly isn't enough. And you're pulling away from him with as much strength as you can muster, successfully standing on your feet and snatching at the clothes on his chest for a completely different reason now. You catch the surprise in his eyes, the little puff of disbelieving laughter that leaves him when he lets you roughly nudge his head to the side and place you mouth on his throat, running the sensitive tip of your tongue along the rough texture of his five-o clock shadow. Just keeping the edges of your teeth there. But you can smell the blood underneath his skin and the wild, gnawing hunger inside of you demands to be fed and then you're sinking them in deep. His skin breaks underneath the pressure and the thick red fills your mouth like nectar. The flow of it is much stronger here, gushing across your tongue beautifully. You almost moan from the elation you feel, the stabbing pain muting out in pale distant throbs and the shaking in your arms and legs dies down. 

He groans and grips your hips tightly and whether it's from discomfort or not you don't know. And you don't care. You can hardly think at all, left adrift under the pull the blood that steadily pours down your throat, and if it weren't for the sudden burst of sound to tether you, you might would have floated away under it.  Somewhere in the distance a pack coyotes howls and yips rise up like a delighted strip of laughter, the wind rustles over the desert floor like a wane breath, and far past the horizon something warm and primordial rumbles, but it's still hard to focus on over the sound of your own feverish gulping. Even though the foreign, wild hunger has since died down, you don't want to stop. You want to stay here forever and drink and drink and drink. 

You're being pulled back from his neck before you can register it, pitifully whining at the loss of his blood. It takes you a few moments to come to, the annoying steady tapping of his hand on your cheek helping to rouse you from your drunken stupor. And the grin on his face is too cocky and smug for your taste and something about the look in his eyes tells you that you've just done something irreversible. That you've sealed your fate and won't be able look back. It takes a minute for your slow-moving syrupy thoughts to catch up. The realization of what you've done hits you with the subtly of a charging bull and your entire body runs cold. He must see the change in you because he's lurching forward and snatching you before you can run off with your newfound strength. "Hold on now, " he's laughing. The bastard is laughing. " I mean, shit the way you were sucking on me, I thought I'd be seein' the big man upstairs soon!" 

"Get your hands off of me!" You snarl. Because it had worked so well for you last time, but you don't care. You're angry, you're betrayed. But you can't blame anyone else but yourself and that's what terrifies you the most. 

"I can't do that now. It's gonna be you and me sweetpea! " He practically sings." For a good long while." 

You can't even form a sentence to ask him why. Why he suddenly has an interest in you, why he fed you his blood, why you wanted his blood. It all fades from the tip of your tongue before you can form the words, and then he's lifting you up like a bag of dog food and tossing you over his shoulder despite your protest. "Oh, hush now. " He scolds you lightly with a few pats on your rear and you try to knee him in the stomach but he's quick to catch the wayward limb. He walks past the totaled Ford, still smoking and crumpled against the fence post and heads off towards the road, whistling jovially as he goes with an arm secured around your waist to keep you held down in place. All while you limply hang from his shoulder, distantly watching the asphalt pass underneath his boots, and the way that the rowels of his spurs slightly rotate between their shanks with each step. You can't help but wonder what your family will think when you never come back home. When a cop or some person on their way into the nearest town spots your crumpled up car on the side of the road or whatever is left of the diner and reports you as a missing person. Or dead. 

Will they look for you? You think about your father sitting at the dining room table, awake too early and drinking a mug full of coffee so black that it'll make your lips twists up like you ate something sour and your mother sitting in front of the TV every night to watch her reruns while she picks out a new novel for her book club- which is really just an excuse to gossip and complain about the neighbors. 

You may never be a part of that again. You may never see them again. And a heavy lump is inside your throat threatening to push tears up. Even Sam and his cheating and his sweet, dimpled smile and his constant prattle about business sales - you'd take it all back in a heartbeat. You'd take the pain and the lying and the hurt but instead you're here. Tossed over some psychopath's shoulder. 

"Calvary's here!" He suddenly cheers, breaking you from your spiral. You have to prop a hand on his lower back suspend yourself up enough to look back over your shoulder, but it gives enough leverage to make out a pair of headlights piercing the through the darkness ahead. The sight of it has a lump of dread forming in the pit of your stomach, heavy and unforgiving. And Severen seems to sense your unease, because he's working a hand up the back of your thigh in what he seems to think are soothing stokes. " Yer gonna be alright, the family is gonna love ya!" 

And some helpless part of you still stupid enough to cling onto hope wants to cry out, to beg him to let you go. To pretend that this entire night never happened. But you know its fruitless. You're in too deep now. You were as soon as they stepped into that diner. Whatever happened now you'd just have to hope that you make it out alive. But maybe you wouldn't want to. 

"Shit sugar, me and you might have some fun after all!" 

#severen x reader #severen van sickle x reader #near dark x reader #near dark #severen near dark #severen #near dark 1987

[venus-haze]

Eat Your Heart Out (Severen x Reader)

Summary: Feral vampires are few and far between, and Severen isn’t sure what to think when you begin trailing the clan. 

Note: Woman reader, but no descriptors are used. This is based on a request by @bowdowntolouis! I love that the Near Dark universe is so vague with its vampire rules and whatnot, because it gives me room to make things up. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Blood, gore, descriptions of mild disemboweling, I guess some elements of cannibalism because the reader’s a messy eater. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

The first time he saw you, he didn’t think much of it. Another pretty face in a backward-ass town they’d leave for the dust as soon as night fell the following day, anyway. He caught it, though, the faintest scent of dead blood that he couldn’t dwell on, because Homer was corralling everyone into a convenience store to see if they had a decent comic book selection. 

Of course, they’d happened upon a dry town. Not a deal-breaker, but messing with drunks was always more fun. In lieu of a bar, the convenience store was the gathering place for the town’s residents after dark with its worn, old-timey soda counter and handful of tables and chairs with stuffing coming out of the cushions. He scoffed. Burning the place down would practically be doing them a favor.

“Y’all better be careful out there,” an older man said from behind the checkout.

“Why’s that?” Jesse asked, humoring the clerk.

“People are sayin’ there’s some kinda animal attacks, bodies just mauled like you’d never seen. Wildcat or coyotes…somethin’ like that,” he rambled before nodding in the direction of some of the people sitting at the tables. “Few loonies think a woman did it, claim they saw her runnin’ with blood all over her face, eyes like the devil. Just watch out if you know what’s good for ya.”

“Don’t you worry, mister. We ain’t got nothin’ to worry about,” Severn said with a grin, reaching over to pat the clerk’s shoulder. He gripped it with a strong hand, pulling him over the counter and throwing him onto the floor.

“You believe that, about the woman?” Mae asked quietly when they’d finished burning the place down.

He shook his head. “C’mon Mae, y’know these assholes huff paint for fun. They got nothing better to do than make up bullshit like that.”

The second time he saw you, he didn’t even know it was you. Shock had overtaken him when he came across your hunched over figure in a dark alleyway, the scent of blood sharp and fresh as you fed. You looked up, eyes wide with the slightest hint of fear as he stood in the darkness. You could see him just as clearly as he could see you. Silent save for your labored breathing, you began sprinting toward him, only to push him aside as you passed him by, further into the night.

He approached the body you’d left behind. A woman, probably in her mid-thirties. He couldn’t tell exactly from the number you’d done on her face. Leaning in closer, his lip curled upon realizing the woman’s arm was nearly detached from her shoulder, chest caved in as if you’d cracked it open.

Glancing behind his shoulder, he shook his head. And he thought he was fucked up.

Kicking the body with the tip of his steel-toed boot, it flopped back to its lifeless place on the ground. He wasn’t sure what else he was expecting. Leaning closer, he inhaled. The body was fresh. It’d be a shame to let good blood go to waste just because he scared you off. So he fed, shuddering a bit when he rested his hand in the open cavity in her chest and felt something squishy and still warm beneath him. 

Upon further inspection, it was her kidney or liver, though not entirely intact. Severen wasn’t squeamish, but poking around, he found her entrails appeared almost shredded. Desperate, as if you hadn’t fed in weeks. Lack of decorum, maybe. Never learned how to hunt properly and went by base instincts alone. He’d heard rumors of their kind who’d been turned and promptly left to fend for themselves. Most ended up perishing in the daylight without someone to mentor them, show them how to look out for themselves. He supposed some turned out like you. Feral, Jesse had said once. Succumbing to bloodlust like madness.

Less than a week later, he caught your scent, as if he could forget it after that night. If it weren’t for that tell-tale smell of dead blood, he wouldn’t have caught on to you tailing the group. His guard up, unsure of your intentions, he split from everyone else to confront you. Well hidden behind a pharmacy, already in a defensive position when he approached.

Your clothing had seen better days, some of it torn, a result of your victims hopelessly fighting back. Your nails were sharp, as if you’d purposely filed them to do the most damage possible on impact. Smudged eyeliner circled your piercing eyes, though it’d clearly been a long time since you’d reapplied it. Similarly, he couldn’t tell whether your lips were red from lipstick or just bloodstained. No wonder you’d been mistaken for some kind of wild cat woman.

“You followin’ us?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?”

“I just go where I smell blood.”

“Why do you feed like that? Makes things a lot harder on us.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, hands balled into fists at your side. “I don’t have to explain nothing to no one.”

“Look, you do what you want, but leave me and mine out of it.”

“Are you done?” you asked, a deep crease in your forehead as you stared him down.

“Yeah, so get outta here.”

He decided against telling Jesse that he’d confronted you, hoping that his discussion with you would be the end of your paths crossing. You had to have been following them, ending up in the same towns so often couldn’t have been a coincidence. Still, his morbid curiosity wandered with thoughts of what it’d be like to feed as you did. He prided himself on his brutality, his savagery. You gave him motivation to step up his game.

It wasn’t much longer after that, somewhere deep in the heart of Texas, he caught a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye while he was feeding on a member of a bachelorette party he’d convinced to leave the cowboy bar with him, promising a good time. He growled upon lifting his head from her body, not at all pleased to see you again.

You approached him, and he growled, pushing the body aside as he stood up. 

“Girl, what’d I tell you about following us around? Like you’re some dumb fuckin’ puppy.”

“You feed after me. Vulture,” you spat.

He grabbed you by the scruff of your neck, painfully pulling your face close to his as he hissed, low and dangerous, “I know you didn’t just call me that.”

“You take what’s mine and don’t even feed from the best part.”

“Oh? And what exactly am I missing?”

You became quiet, and he was confused at your lack of a retort until you covered his bloodstained mouth with your hand. “Shh…someone’s coming, don’t you smell it?”

Clean and fresh, the faintest scent of men’s cologne and laundry detergent. A set of heavy footsteps, quick and purposeful. In a rush to get somewhere he’d never arrive, no doubt. Severen grinned from behind your hand.

“Now’s our chance,” you whispered.

Thrill rolled down his spine at how quickly your demeanor changed, past grievances set aside at the chance to hunt. He released his grip on you, and you lifted your hand from his face. The excited, ragged breath you let out was all he could hear over the cacophony of noises in the night. You were fucked up. 

No pretense, no tactics, you simply grabbed the man from where he stood and shoved him to the ground. Severen observed with an almost academic interest as you tore into the man’s throat with your teeth, straddling him to keep him down. 

Bone cracked beneath your feverish grip on the man’s body. You dug your hands deep into the man’s chest and pushed, the overwhelming scent of blood overtaking all else and making his head spin. Standing over you, practically salivating, he found the sight of you mauling this stranger morbidly beautiful.

His eyebrows raised in surprise when you reached into the open cavity and ripped the man’s heart out. The two of you were already covered in blood, but he supposed he never expected to see firsthand how messy humans’ bodies could be if you really took the time to open them up.

“This is what you’re missing,” you said, offering the baseball-sized organ to him.

His hesitation didn’t last long. He grabbed the heart out of your hand, considering how it felt in his. Warm, like when he’d poked around the woman you’d left behind a few weeks earlier, but more firm with the presence of muscle. Unsure of how to approach feeding from it, he bit into the heart as if it were an apple and let the blood flow into his mouth from the puncture he’d made.

He drained the organ of blood, the taste notably better than just sinking his teeth into flesh. Bare skin, he discovered in that moment, left a strange aftertaste in blood, undoubtedly from the perfumes and lotions and bodily fluids that were on it. Maybe you were onto something, feeding straight from the source rather than through a barrier. Admittedly, it was messier, but he wouldn’t have his razor-blade spurs if he were afraid of being messy.

“You’re gonna get me in a lot of trouble,” he said, releasing the heart from his hands, landing haphazardly back in the victim’s exposed ribcage.

“With who?”

An unfamiliar voice startled both of you. “I swear I heard something back there, man.”

“C’mon,” Severen whispered, grabbing your hand.

“Yeah, probably someone getting his dick sucked. Just forget it.”

You shook your head. “We can take them.”

“It’s almost daylight. Just come with me,” he hissed, tugging on your arm.

“You go. If I see you in another town, I’ll come with you, okay?”

Reluctantly, he nodded, releasing your arm and watching as you ran off yet again. After a few weeks, he stopped looking for you, though you drifted in and out of his thoughts often. Months blurred together for him, but at least a year had passed since he’d seen you. Mae had turned Caleb, anyway, and getting him acclimated to their way of life was troublesome enough. You being there would’ve made things all the more difficult.

At least, that’s what he told himself. Channeled his disappointment into being even crueler when he killed, though he could never quite work up the nerve to dig for the heart when he was around the others. Not necessarily too taboo, but rather it reminded him too much of you. Someone he’d spent less than half an hour with. Homer would never let him hear the end of it. Like he was going soft or something.

Before he knew it, they were back in Texas. The state felt endless, but he loved the freedom of the deserts, the small, unsuspecting towns that dotted the highway. They set up camp for a few nights in a motel right off an exit for the only town with more than 5,000 residents for miles. 

Setting out on his own, Severen walked past a grocery store when he smelled it. Dead blood. Following the scent, he ended up in a department store. In the vast cosmetics section, he found you applying the tester eyeliner in a mirror. You’d switched out your old clothes, wearing something newer and more fashionable. He wouldn’t have been surprised if you had just swapped outfits in the dressing room.

Engrossed in your makeup application, you didn’t notice him sneaking up on you until you smelled him. Your back tensed and you threw the eyeliner aside. Turning around, you relaxed upon seeing the grinning creature of the night a few feet away from you.

You smiled a bit when you walked over to him. “Hey, it’s you.”

“I was startin’ to think you stood me up, darlin’,” he said, throwing his arm around your shoulders.

“Sorry about that; it’s a long story.” 

“How does dinner sound? Give us a chance to catch up.”

“It’s like you read my mind. I’m starving.”

#severen x reader #near dark #severen near dark #near dark 1987 #slasher x reader #slasher community #slasher fandom

[tragantia]

Not to be too deep nor anything but I just want to kneel and suck his d*** is that too much to ask for???? Is it????

#is there some therapy group for this #because I'm running in the opposite direction #One day I will make some valuable contribution to this fandom #Other than p*rn #I swear #But today is not that day #near dark #severen #near dark 1987 #severen van sickle #bill paxton #severen near dark

[3d-wifey]

Thinkin bout Severen from Near Dark, thinkin bout him a lot...

cowboy vampire of my dreams, he means a great deal to me

#3d wifey talks #near dark #near dark severen #near dark 1987 #severen van sickle #severen near dark #severen x reader #bill paxton #bill paxton did his big one with this one #vampire #cowboy vampire #outlaw vampire

[msookyspooky]

Stay Still

NSFW smut • Established Relationship Afab!Reader x Severen Van Sickle • Lost Bet & Orgasm Delay/Denial • Edging • GentleDom!Reader x Reluctant Brat Sub!Severen • Severen Begging • Vaginal Penetration • Vaginal Muscles/Kegals • Vibrator on Reader • Primal Vampire Instincts

Not proofread nor wordcount

He gritted his teeth. Laying on top of you with a steady 'bzzz' noise filtering through out the room. Only thing to be heard above that steady noise was your little moans and sighs...And his heavy breathing as he practically glared down at you.

You had teased him relentlessly all damn evening and he got cocky. Made a bet with some very fun outcomes and he lost. He was so sure he'd win and have you the one begging and trying not to squirm under him. His pride, his greatest sin, was slashed as a harsh jagged breath forced its way out his nostrils as he closed his eyes.

Your inner muscles had fluttered against him as you shifted to get the vibrator on your hardening clit. You smirked up at him having the vibrator on its lowest setting and directed in areas you knew weren't your sweet spots on that bundle of nerves. Wouldn't want to cum too quickly. No...No, you wanted to slowly milk this man dry while he had to stay still.

"Y-Yn...Yer really playin' with fire. Gonna bring the Devil outta me." He huffed out, panting and glaring.

"So you admit you can't handle it and have zero self control?" You countered teasingly.

He scoffed, "I never said that- Ah!" He softly gasped before hissing like a cat when you clenched your muscles hard around him. "Darlin, c'mon. Ya know I don't handle being bossed around well or stayin' still for too long." He almost sounded nervous as he forced that chuckle. All tensed and strained.

His cock twitched inside you. Begging and aching to thrust deep in your heat. Warm wetness washing over his hard aching cock as your muscles moved involuntarily. He pulled back slightly and you wrapped your legs around him and squeezed tighter.

"Oh, I know. That's the point."

He groaned in frustration. Baring his teeth as this had went on too long. He wanted to just grab your thighs, shove them back, pound you so hard and fast even if it killed you...

"So...Ya gonna admit I'm right?" You asked moaning with a naughty smirk. Letting your teeth roll over your bottom lip. "You have no self control."

"Oooh, damn you-" He groaned out as your muscles milked him when you turned the vibrator up higher on yourself. "YN, this is torture! Pure sadistic sick ass torture!" He grumbled as it faded out to a whine of annoyance.

"Just beg and you can pound me into this mattress."

He glared down at you as you both were positioned in missionary on that mattress. "Never! Do I look like a guy that begs for pussy?"

You playfully shrugged, turning the vibrator up higher as an involuntary moan sounded from your throay and you bit your lip.

Severen instinctively started rocking his hips. It felt good, you wanted him to push you over the edge, but instead you pulled the vibe away from your clit to edge yourself. Getting way too much enjoyment out of this.

"Moving already? Like I said, no self control. Absolutely desperate."

He stopped moving and hung his head with a growl in his throat. Fighting just admitting it and getting what he needed and trying to still win. "You're killing me here!"

"Just beg and this will be over, Severen." You mumbled, eager to get that vibrator back on your aching clit just as much as he was to thrust in your cushioned wet heat.

He scoffed, "Oh pretty please baby, may I fuck yer tight lil pussy because I'm just so weak of a pussyhound? My dick can't take it, I'm so pathetic!" He sarcastically gave mockingly before glaring again as you noticed his body was twitching. "It ain't happenin'!"

"Hey, suit yourself. I can go all night. I got self control unlike you. I can edge my clit alllll night while you just gotta lay there and feel-" You did a motion with your kegels that had him moaning with his eyes closed. "That. All night."

Severen was practically biting his lip and inner cheek till he tasted blood. Ripping sheets under you in the motel room. Twitching and convulsing and trying so hard not to whine or moan. His hips were stuttering and shifting as it took what very little self control he had not to forfeit the bet and just pile drive into that warm welcoming hole you had. His instincts had him feeling like a damn animal.

After a few minutes of feeling yourself so close you got the tingles and heat but not enough to cum; vibrator always pulled away in time...Severen looked almost close to crying in frustration at this point. This had gone on almost 2 hours already and he couldn't handle this anymore! If he was doing it to you he could but being on the receiving end was foreign torture for him.

"Fine! God damn fuck it all, finnnneeee-" He whined pitifully hanging his head. Body laying on you trembling with need. "I-I...Damn it...I..." He struggled but as you both were so close you could taste it he blurted out. "I ain't got it! I need it, pleasssee!...Oh God, please please fuck YN please shit. Baby, I can't handle this, I need you." He mumbled as you he looked at you with a pathetically desperate look hanging his head in shame. His blue eyes looking like a sad puppy right now as he trembled and panted. His cock twitched in you like crazy. Balls ached. Mind was foggy as his instincts were taking over. "If you don't give it to me now...I can't control it! I c-can't-"

Truth be told, you had been past your limit a while ago. Praying he'd say it so you both could have this. But you still had to keep it going.

"I don't know..."

"YN, ya ain't playin' fair!" He argued with a strained voice. He grabbed you desperately fingers digging into your hips as you felt warm at how he looked down at you. His eyes were almost mad with desire as he glared down at you chest heaving even if he didn't need breath.

"...Beg just a little more. For me, just a little more." You were trying so hard to stay in charge but with the way he was looking at you you were losing your nerve to not just let him flip you over, dig his teeth in your neck and fuck you senseless.

"Please let me cum. Please, I can't..." He furiously shook his head swallowing hard. Dark locks hanging over his eyes as he put his head down.

"More." You urged as you pressed the vibrator to your clit with a breathy moan.

"...Fuck! Let me cum! Please I'll do anything, I need you. I need you, Oh God...Oh God I need you. I need to cum in you...Let me, please? Please let me." He whined out not even sounding like himself as he was so lost in pleasure that was so close yet out of reach. "If you don't I'm gonna go insane. I'll go crazy, I will, I really will."

"You need it?"

He eagerly nodded his head. Head rolling back with a groan as you started moving your hips as you got close.

"You're drunk.on it. You need this pussy so bad. All you can think of is how good this cunt makes you feel." You started getting so much more into this, losing yourself. Moaning louder as your own words turned you on.

Him too as he nodded as his cock twitched, "Yes. Yes, its all I can think of. I need it like nothin' else...Baby, I can't!-" He gasped out as your muscles gripped him tighter.

"Good boy. Such a good boy for me. You can-"

He never considered himself into it but you saw how he went haywire not even finishing your sentence before he was like a jack rabbit. It almost damn near hurt! But it was enough to have you over the edge as well before he forced himself deep in you; cumming and growling like a wild animal. Biting down on your shoulder as you yelled out. Blood seeping down your arm as your eyes rolled back with a strained gasping cry.

You both made desperate, panting, loud noises as you both came for what felt like forever. It's like you were in another world for a bit.

He buried deep in you as you both came. Almost collapsing on you in a shaky heap as he couldn't stop giving out exhausted groans and pants.

"That was...Damn...Found something new out bout myself." He tiredly chuckled. "God...S' good..."

You breathlessly nodded and held him close. Like he was an anchor for you right about now.

You both laid there for 10 minutes. The vibrator discarded in blissful silence before you felt him moving again as he kissed where he bit you.

"Sev..." You smirked as he licked at where he bit you.

"I told ya, I need it. You're right, I ain't got no self control when it comes to you." He murmured as he moved in you. Grinding his pelvis against yours.

"Sun..." You tiredly gave looking at the sealed off window and curtain. Tiny bit of pale blue peaking at the far end of a pizza box you both used over the glass. It was probably 5 am or so.

"That sun don't mean diddly shit to me. You teased me too much and got me all riled up and with this second wind I'm liable to take care of business all day until the sun sets...So buckle up, cause now ain't no one sleepin..."

He hesitated before kissing you and saying, "I may have lost but that's cause you're a bully. I'll be good but ya gotta make me." He grinned.

The audacity of you being called a bully by someone like him! It was tossed aside as you felt how he kissed you. Your own blood in your mouth from his lips. You groaned but moved with him, this was gonna be a long day. All you could do was let him ravish you while grabbing the vibe for aa round 2.

#been too long since I wrote for him ♡ #severen imagine #severen x reader #severen smut #near dark severen #severen near dark #severen van sickle #severen #near dark 1987 #near dark lemon #Severen lemon #near dark smut

[slasher-male-wife]

How horror characters spend their Halloween with you

I wrote about this last Halloween and I wanted to make a better version of it with more characters this time. I am such a slut for Halloween and just autumn in general.

Includes: Asa Emory, Michael Myers, Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, The Sinclair brothers and Severen

Warnings: Murder and violence mentions, Hannibal being a little mean, blood talk in Severen's part (he's a little weirdo)

Asa Emory

He honestly thinks Halloween is a children's holiday. He never even bothered to get Halloween candy before he met you. If you're really Halloween obsessed he'll consider letting you put up decorations that he approves of. It's not cheap Halloween, Christian girl autumn or classic Halloween, its a secret fourth thing.

I can see him favoring vintage Halloween decorations over the newer ones. But he does like the insect and bug themed things you bring home. He wants the Halloween bug decorations to be casual enough to keep out year round.

He doesn't go to Halloween parties and if you bring him to one he's not dressing up. He'd say he's dressed up as an 'entomologist' or if you know his identity as the collector 'a homicidal maniac'.

He probably doesn't like horror movies because he's one of those people who think all horror movies are bad. But if he happens to see a new way he can torture someone he'll happily sit through a saw movie to see how else he can torment people.

He honestly won't eat any candy but as an 'experiment' he'll see how much you can eat before you get sick. Speaking of candy if you want to get up and answer the door to hand out candy you can do that but he's not joining you. If you're going to be out or you don't want to be disturbed he'll be happy to leave out a bowl.

Michael Myers

He's obviously going to be busy with killing people so for a majority of Halloween you'll be on your own. But he will be watching you the rest of the month as you put up decorations and buy candy.

He'll also be sneaking candy from the bags you buy. It might be smart to buy two bags just for Michael to eat on his own. If he's feeling generous he'll share some with you.

He gets some kind of weird enjoyment in seeing if you dress up and what you dress up as. Enjoyment in a Michael Myers kind of way. He likes more classic costumes and ones that have a good amount of effort put into them. He also thinks that he sexy Halloween costumes are just silly.

I feel like if you let him Michael would enjoy picking out your Halloween costume. Like you give him a pen and paper and he picks out what costume you wear, he would love that. I feel like he'd choose something funny to him, like the sheet ghost.

He'll get home in the early morning of November first and if you're still awake he'll spend time with you after washing up. If you're watching horror movies that's even better for him. He'll sit on the couch and watch them with you. Or if he's feeling affectionate he'll even lay down and have you lay on top of him while you watch.

Hannibal Lecter

He's European and to my knowledge Halloween isn't that big of a thing in Europe. He's familiar with Halloween and stuff but he doesn't really celebrate it. If you're really into Halloween he's happy to listen to you tell him all about it.

He's not really in a neighborhood to give out candy in and he also doesn't eat anything that isn't a 14 course meal so if you want Halloween candy you'll have to get it on your own. Even then he'll probably just silently judge you for it.

He's not much of a decorator for holidays, especially Halloween because of how 'cheap' and 'ugly' the decor is. If you try to put up stuff he doesn't like he'll throw it away or if it gets bad enough, tell you to stop putting things up. It all depends on the decorations though.

I can see him making an excuse to throw a dinner party for Halloween. But without costumes or any Halloween themeing and it's just a dinner party on Halloween. If you're someone who likes to spend Halloween watching Horror movies or going to parties Hannibal is fine with that. He won't join you at the parties and he might try to get you to not go but he's happy to watch Horror movies with you.

I can see him trying to cook stuff with pumpkin in it. But I strongly believe that he wouldn't let anyone carve pumpkins in his house. You've seen his clear suit while he kills people and how clean his house and office always is so I doubt he'd enjoy carving a pumpkin and how messy it can get.

Will Graham

Because of his upbringing he never really got to enjoy a traditional Halloween as a child and I feel like he rarely went to Halloween parties, so he's not a big Halloween kind of guy.

If you're putting up decorations you'll have to keep the dogs in mind. I think Will trains then well and that they're well behaved in general but you can never be too careful. I also think he'd find decorating a little pointless since he lives far away from everyone else.

He doesn't buy candy because there's no trick or treaters to give candy to, also again, his dogs. So you can buy candy for the two of you to share but I feel like you'd end up eating more than him.

Because Will is kind of prone to nightmares he wouldn't be super interested in watching horror movies, or spooky kid movies. But I do think he'd be open to the idea of reading scary stories together.

If Halloween is important to you he'll treat it as kind of important too, because he loves you. I don't see him doing costumes, but I do think he'd be willing to put the dogs in costumes for pictures and stuff like that.

Bo Sinclair

He never really got to enjoy Halloween as a child because he had to take care of Vincent and Lester. I also feel like his parents just didn't really like Halloween in general so they didn't celebrate it. This has led into his adult life where he doesn't celebrate Halloween.

He works like a majority of the time. I feel like he'll wake up at any hour of the night to go deal with victims. So trying to convince him to take off Halloween will take a lot of convincing. But he'll eventually understand and take the night off to spend with you.

I feel like he'd rather give up on the town than wear a costume. He'd be like Asa and just wear his normal clothes and say he's something. Like he'd wear his coveralls and say he's 'a mechanic' for Halloween.

He never bought candy before for Halloween but if you buy candy, he's probably stealing a lot of it, if not the whole bag. There's no trick or treaters so he'll happily watch horror movies with you and eat an entire bag of Halloween candy.

Speaking of horror movies he'll complain about watching horror movies until you throw in something like there's nudity in the movies, then he's more willing to watch the movies with you.

Vincent Sinclair

He thinks Halloween is a good time to incorporate more horror elements into his art as if he doesn't already do that. I can see him enjoying the idea of sketching or painting you in different Halloween costumes. They'll probably come from victims but he doesn't think it's a big deal.

He'd love to carve pumpkins with you but he'd be one of those people who takes it really seriously and probably makes some kind of masterpiece on the pumpkin. He'll probably just bribe Lester to get them for you because Bo would say no.

I don't think he has the biggest sweet tooth so he'll probably not be eating much candy, but that won't stop him from bribing Lester to get you some if you want candy. I can see him decorating the House of Wax for Halloween, complete with wax candy.

He'd be open to watching horror movies with you, but I seem him only really enjoying like art house or psychological horror movies, like ones with commentary or just ones that are really odd in a good way. He'll watch more cheesy and silly horror movies but he won't really like them.

I can see Vincent taking Halloween as an opportunity to kill people in more creative ways. Like the classic poisoning candy. I think he'd get more creative with it too, like using fake cobwebs to strangle someone to death.

Lester Sinclair

I feel like Bo and Vincent let Lester have some kind of Halloween. Their parents tried to keep them from celebrating Halloween but the twins scraped up some kind of pocket money to buy candy they could share with him.

Despite him not celebrating Halloween as a child I feel like Lester likes Halloween in a normal way. He likes Halloween and the aesthetics of Halloween. He has decorations but he doesn't usually put them up, but if you want them up he'll put them up for you.

He'll probably have to work on Halloween because he works almost every day. But he'll make sure to get Halloween night off so he can spend it with you watching Halloween movies and doing fun Halloween activities.

Like Will he'd love to dress Jonesy up in a dog costume and take pictures of her. He wouldn't dress up but if you wear a costume he'd be all over it no matter what you're wearing.

Depending on how long you've been with him he might take you to a haunted house outside of town if you're interested in haunted houses. He'd only do this if you've been with him for a very long time. He'd keep a close eye on you while you're out of the house, but he still wants to make sure you're having a good time.

Severen

He's very into Halloween. Even though he lives in cars and motels he still finds fun ways to celebrate Halloween. I feel like he'd binge blood from people dressed as vampires for Halloween.

He's weirdly into blood. Like he'll get his hands purposely covered in blood just so he can rub the blood all over you because he thinks you look hot when you're covered in blood. So on Halloween he'll get really messy with it. I feel like his costume would just be his normal outfit covered in blood. Also he might make out with you while his mouth is filled with blood.

He totally crashes Halloween parties and drinks himself super sick. I feel like vampires have a high alcohol tolerance but they have worse hang overs. But he thinks it's worth it to drink himself sick at a Halloween party with you.

If Halloween parties aren't your thing he's happy to just sneak into a movie theater and watch some horror movies. He'd especially enjoy if you get scared or squirmy and hold onto him while you watch the movies.

He knows you can't have Halloween without candy so he'll either steal candy from kids (unless you tell him not to) or he'll steal some from a store. He can eat a ton of candy before he gets sick and if you can't eat as much as him he'll tease you about it (but he really does care).

#asa emory #asa emory x reader #michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #michael myers x y/n #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x you #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham #will graham x reader #will graham x you #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #severen near dark #severen x reader #slasher x reader #slasher x y/n #slasher fanfiction

[rock-n-macabre]

Request don’t mind if I do 😂

I was thinking of prequel to your previous fic I wanna see how this sex deviant couple acted in the beginning and middle events of the movie and around Caleb I think it’ll be funny 😭

Thanks so much for the request, love!!

Wrote this from the POV of if he had a mate during the movie. Prequel to the events in the Love's A Burning Fire series ✨ kinda a bit of random-ness, but with the cute and chaotic dynamics of the duo! Hope this doesn't disappoint 💋✨

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"Severen! Will you stop your bellyaching?! You just had your fill and then some!"

I roll my eyes as Severen is pestering Jesse to stop for a quick bite.

You know...as if he didn't just go through a multi course feed of people. Oh! Not to mention he polished off the leftovers of the others.

" 'm a growin' boy, darlin'! Yer gunna stunt my growth!" He groaned, laying it on thick to earn sympathy.

Jesse pulled the RV over to pick up Mae who was cutting it pretty close to being caught in the sunlight. Diamondback gave her a warning of the repercussions of being negligent of the timing of things. Mae simply nodded and kept to herself. Yeah sure the girl was pretty quiet, but way more so than normal. I wonder what got into her.

I get shoved out of the way by an excited Severen as he points out a stumbling figure in the distance and tells Jesse to pull in close to pick up the seemed to be wounded individual for a quick bite. Easy pickins and to quiet Severen's bellyaching?

You bet Jesse was on that quicker than flies on shit.

Severen wrapped the thick blanket around himself as he opened the side door to scoop the unsuspecting figure into the RV, before dropping the boy onto the floor like a sack of potatoes.

Severen swooped on that boy like a vulture and was getting ready to play with his food before Mae intervened. The level of shock amidst the clan was quite something. Normally it was a consensus among the group before one got brought into clan as a mate. Just like with Homer did before he brought Mae in. Severen? Well.... No one wants to argue with him, even though he did get an earful after turning me. But....it went in through one ear and out through the other. What Severen wants, he gets.

That being said, Severen was hungry. The fact that it was decided upon the newcomer would be spared AND without the consultation of the clan. That didn't sit well at all with him. This new guy certainly didn't give proper the vibes of having proper survival traits or anything to offer the clan.

He was useless.

And he was gonna let everyone know it one way or another.

If the fact he didn't get his snack was enough to rile him up, seeing the new guy plop his ass down in mine and Severen's sleeping spot had Severen seething. I was honestly surprised he didn't throw the boy out then and there. I followed Severen to the little dining area where he lounged back after removing his jacket. I crawled onto the table to lay down and was pulled down on top of Severen who looked at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Now, now....it's time to get shut eye there, mister..." I whisper as I lean in. Severen ran his hands up my sides before resting them on my hips and lazily tracing his thumbs on them.

"Can't sleep....." He grumbled.

I rolled my eyes before gently running my hands down his chest.

"Probably because someone got himself all wound up."

Severen let out a scoff.

"Darlin'.... I need somethin' ta satiate my hunger.."

I raise an eyebrow and smirk. He sure knows how to get what he wants. Albeit sometimes in a petulant child sort of way.

"Is that so?...." I whisper as I lean in and he nuzzles at my neck.

I move my hair out of the way, over to one side.Without hesitation he takes a bite - well, what I believe would be gentle in his eyes - and begins sucking on my neck. Sounds of pleasure murmur from him as he laps at the blood. I gently hold his head there as he feeds and he lets borderline sexual moans as he does so. I won't lie, it definitely stirs feelings within me as well between the sensation of the act and hearing his sounds. I feel his leather pants straining at the crotch against me as he slowly grinds his hips against mine and realize that the feeling was definitely reciprocated.

He pulls away eventually as to not drain me dry. I give a small whimper and nuzzle against him as he pulls me to sleep on his chest. Not shortly after, snores were erupting from him and a small strand of drool is escaping the corner of his mouth. I give a small smile and gently rub his chest before I drift off myself.

Hours later as the sun begins to set, I feel Severen start to stir underneath me. I place lazy kisses along his jawline which earns a happy sound in his throat and I grin. I go to stretch and get up , wrapping Severen's jacket around my shoulders, when I hear a grunt of discomfort come from him. Jesse, Diamondback and Homer are all trying to discuss with Mae about the risks of bringing Caleb unwillingly onboard and she just won't take no for an answer.

Severen grumbles before interjecting into the conversation. Voicing his disdain for the newcomer , and blaming him wholeheartedly for why he now is sore from sleeping in the booth. Homer chimes in as well about the negative impact Caleb is having on the clan already. Severen, being still grumpy, can't help but prod Homer during his rant. I shoot Severen a look, putting my finger against my lips to shush him. It's hard enough with Homer's theatrics, we didn't need Severen to push his buttons any further.

It is decided by Jesse to give Caleb a chance. I swear I could see a vein twitch on Severen at the news. Immediately he went over to Caleb and decided to break the news to him in Severen's not-so-subtle way. I couldn't help but smile as Severen went to assert dominance upon the newcomer. Jesse then mentions to Severen that they need to get a new ride and ditch the RV. It was also a way to take Severen's mind off of things and cool down a bit by causing debauchery.

I giggle and let out a shriek as he gives me a piggyback to the car lot. He eyes different vehicles and we notice a motorcycle in the lot as well. We both turn to look at each other for a moment before giving a small shrug. Maybe later on we'd get some alone time to take a joy ride on a motorcycle. Should one trust him with a motorcycle? Not really. But then again...do I have a decent moral compass?

Eventually he hotwires a car to steal and take back for the clan to all pile into. I scooch close to him in the seat during the drive.

"Darlin'...how 'bout we park this thing and.....decompress?..." He gives me his trademark smirk.

"Sev ...later. 'sides...ya still need to eat. Can't have ya runnin' low on me. Speaking of, we need to hit up a gas station pronto." I give a small laugh. He groans and flicks his cigarette out the window as he pulls in to the gas station to fuel up and Jesse keeps driving the RV to a desolate area.

When we meet up with the others who've already began the ceremony of igniting the RV, Severen can't contain himself as he readies his pistol and fires a few rounds to add more fuel to the fire. I wince as I hear him begin to reminisce about the Chicago Fire that him and Jesse had started.

"Severen....honey...I know you're bitter that the textbooks didn't give you credit for the damn fire. But......WE KNOW. Keep it up and you'll be off of pyro duties." I laugh and poke him playfully. He feigns sadness before chuckling himself and pulling me into his side and we head on our way.

I grin as Severen and I sit together in the car and I rest my head on his shoulder. It's all pretty quiet until he starts to try to cup a feel and dips his head to nip at me. I squeak and push him away as Homer looks like he's about to erupt. Severen just smirks at Homer and pretends to look out the window.Out of nowhere, Severen hauled off and punches Homer with a loud THWACK! Earning a screech from Homer before he whips around to look at Severen.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?!" Homer shouts, while pummeling Severen's arm with fists of fury. This earns a snort from Severen.

"Punch buggy. No punch backs, lil boner." He gives Homer a smug grin. Diamondback turns around and scolds the two of them, meanwhile Caleb looks startled at the interactions.

"Welcome to the family, dickanus." I chuckle, looking at caleb.

At the remark I made, Severen turns to me with heart eyes before erupting into a fit of laughter before Homer clips Severen upside the head for intruding in his personal space.

It was a long drive until the next pit stop. Thankfully it was only another two and a half hours until we made it to our rest point and we all piled out of the car. I snickered to myself...it was like a damn clown car.

Wait.

It was actually quite fitting especially after the antics of that drive.

We all parted our ways to hunt. Severen got dressed in his finest and I watched him stand on the side of the road, with an extended thumb.

Vehicles passed by without giving him a glance or desire to stop, until a truck with two girls stopped. Of course. I rolled my eyes as he got in the cab and distracted them while I got in the truck bed.

I won't lie, it irked me as I watched him start to flirt with the girls. I balled my fists tightly and I could feel my nails digging in. I noticed him glance through the back window and I popped up my middle finger, earning a smirk from him. Eventually we pulled up to the watering hole the girls were heading to. Once pulled into the lot and they got out, I made my move.

"What y'all doin' with my man, huh?" I crossed my arms and they looked at me with a confused expression, as if to say what was I doing ruining their night. One of the girls approached me and Severen grabbed her friend and latched onto her neck without hesitation.

He was hungry.

Meanwhile, the feeling of jealousy was taking the wheel and fueling my hunger as I tore into the other girl's neck. I pushed the body to the ground after as I wiped at my mouth and looked up to see Severen looking at me with blood lust filled eyes. I saunter over to him and wrap my arms around his neck, keeping my eyes locked on his for a moment before reaching down to gently tug at his bolo tie.

"Ya got something on your shirt...." I whisper as I gesture to the blood stains on his shirt.

"Well ya got somethin' on yer face." He leans down to swipe his thumb over my lips as I go to kiss his thumb. This elicits a growl from him as he pushes me against the truck and captures my lips with his.

Eventually after a heated make out session, causing blood to smear over us even more, we pull apart and examine each other being even more dishevelled than before. I pluck the remaining buttons on his shirt open as I peel it off of him.

"Let's get back so we can get changed and go round two, huh?" I smirk as he wraps his arm around my waist and he walks me over to the passenger side of the door and lets me in, smacking my ass as I get up onto the seat. I grin as he gets in the other side and I resume my spot being under his arm.

"Ya know how much I hate it when ya play with your food..." My fingers trail along his jaw, stopping and rubbing at a lipstick mark left by one of the girls.

He scoffs.

"Well darlin', 'magine how I feel when I see them guys with their eyes buggin' when ya walk past 'em. Flauntin' that bod' of yers. Makes my damn blood boil."

Now it was my turn to scoff and roll my eyes.

"Yes darling. It's indeed a shame.....that you eat my damn prey every single time that happens! Ya damn glutton!"

He smirks. "Glutton for punishment, darlin'."

I run my hand down his chest to over the crotch of his pants before squeezing a bit tight, earning a hiss from him.

"Cruisin' for a bruisin' , cowboy." I smirk as I give another squeeze.

Severen jams the truck into park once we reach back to the meet up area and he pins me against the bench seat of the truck.

"It ain't me tha's gonna be bruised, sweetheart.... I can guarantee that." He hisses as he hungrily kisses me, and paws at my clothes.

It didn't take long before he is fumbling with his belts and zipper and he goes to unzip my jean shorts before snaking a hand down and teasing me, while his lips never leaving mine. I groan into the kiss as he goes to push down my shorts before grinding his hips against mine, prodding my entrance before I feel him enter. I gasp as I reach climax with him and lean into his chest.

Severen goes to light a smoke, rolling down the window, but half swallows the cigarette, choking on the puff of smoke he drew, as he sees Jesse peering in.

"S',about damned time, Severen! Get goin'. We're gonna hit up that little dive we saw along the way. The newcomer needs to be taught a lesson. I've had it about up to here with him. He ain't one of us." Jesse grumbles.

Severen's still sputtering from the smoke before managing to collect himself to speak.

"Ya shoulda just let me get my kicks, Jess'."

Jesse rolled his eyes before tossing our bags into the truck so we could get changed before heading back out. I exchanged looks with Severen before slinking off my bloodied top slowly, feeling his gaze on my breasts before they were covered up.My gaze met his once the garment was on.

"Later, handsome." I wink as I hop out of the truck and wait for him to put on his clothes.

The energy in the air was tense. Severen wanted to attack Caleb for not accepting the lifestyle, and Mae was coddling him instead of giving tough love. Severen showed me how to fight, and was impressed I was a natural with guns, but he too had a rough time with me getting accustomed to killing at first. I remember him breaking down one day in frustration, and then I finally was able to feed. He just couldn't see the same with others as he had with me. I looked at Caleb and shrugged.

"Ya have to.... I know it's hard. But....do you really care about Mae? If ya don't feed...you'll be cast off to the sun to die. Think about it. Make your choice."

I wander off to accompany Severen's side as we walk to the entrance, where Severen couldn't help but make a dramatic entrance. Everyone looked startled as he half broke the door.....if only they knew what was in store.

I watched Severen from the booth as he started up shit with the patrons and bartender. One thing led to another , and eventually there wasn't a mortal soul left unscathed in the bar. I walk over to join Severen as him, Jesse, Diamondback, and Homer all prepare to set the place ablaze.

I give a small hum as I reach up to touch his face when he turns to me and pulls me in close. I graze my fingers across his lips and stubbly jaw , pooling some blood around my finger before popping it into my mouth.

"Boy, you're some messy eater. Can dress ya up , but can't take ya nowhere." I give him a smile. Severen lets out a chuckle.

"Yet here ya are, darlin. Still comin' back fer more. It's like ....ya love me er somethin', I reckon." I roll my eyes as I pocket a pint of Jack. Setting all of the stock on fire would be straight up alcohol abuse.

"Let's mosey along, cowboy. The damn dingus is probably still tryin' to chase down his meal- to-go." I pull Severen out of the building, following Jesse and Diamondback's lead.

We all get into the van as we discover Caleb looking defeated , which was a dead giveaway that yet again he failed to catch his prey."Called it." I huffed before gently holding onto Severen. Feeling his muscles tense, I could tell he was getting ready to rip Caleb a new one. Severen was damned determined this time he'd get his wet dream.

It was an awkward drive to the motel, as Jesse unleashed his thoughts on Caleb and it was a race against time to make it to the nearest motel. Luckily Jesse made it in the nick of time and got the keys to a bungalow. It was a small bungalow, but at least we were now out of the sun.

Severen let out a snarl as Caleb and Mae went down to rest together for the day. I could tell he was at his wits end.

"Severen, honey....cmon. Let's get some shut eye." I murmur and gently rub his arm as we make it over to a chair in the corner. He instinctively pulls me against his chest, and covers me as if shielding me even more from the blooming daylight outside.

All is well until there is knocking and some shouting at the door. This causes Severen to wake with a start, half choking on a snore, and releasing a string of drool that was attached to me. You know, the norm when sleeping with him. He gently picks me up off of him and places me back down on the couch, pressing his fingers to his lips as he gets up. He whispers that it's the cops to us as he nears the window.

Severen opens the window to look outside and is met with a blast of sunlight, causing him to reel back and shout in pain. Instinctively I run over to him and pull him into me, checking over his burns and speaking words to try to provide some sort of calm. All hell breaks loose though when Homer hysterically starts screaming about it being daylight. Severen is annoyed at the outburst of a reaction, especially considering he just got smoked by the sun.

Jesse and Severen spare no time in distributing the weapons as Severen prepares to kick off the battle against the cops. He threatens to pop a cap in Caleb's ass but Jesse stops him. Honestly, we were all probably for it to happen then and there, but we had bigger fish to fry. I lean in to kiss Severen before he motions me to take a step back as he readies the 12 gauge.

"Check out time." He mumbles before firing.

And so the battle began.

The shootout was a massive back-n-forth. Eventually the bungalow was starting to be ridden with holes, letting sunlight stream in. Severen went to help Jesse cover some of the exposed areas with furniture before joining my side on the floor. I immediately tuck into him for shelter as I go to reload my six shooter. Maybe I should invest with something with higher round capacity, but it was the piece he gave me when we first got together. Sentimental value.

Out of nowhere Caleb gave the grand idea of taking one for the team to get a hold of the getaway van. Anything was worth a try at this point. I couldn't help but notice the mischievous glint in Severen's eyes at the possibility of Caleb being caught out in the sun and burnt to a crisp.

It was worth a shot.

Eventually after what seemed like a while, and the group of us huddled in the last patch of shade, the van came barreling through the wall. Diamondback, Jesse, and Homer piled in, while Severen kept me covered while helping me in the back before Caleb peeled off.

That fucker just bought himself some time.

Severen chuckled as he pulled me in close and I laid my head on his chest.

"Ya know what darlin'? I was gettin' to think that we were gonna bite it before I was gonna get a piece of .. that.. " he smirked while giving an ass grab. I rolled my eyes, but didn't have it in me to smack his hand away.

"Severen, you're incorrigible, you know that right?" He gave a laugh before playfully pushing me down and pinning me.

"Guilty. As. Charged."

He says gleefully before leaning down to playfully nip at me and I let out a small squeal. Homer rolls his eyes.

"Can we for one minute not have you two trying to play tonsil hockey?!"

Severen doesn't even flinch as he sticks out his arm and flips Homer off, not even missing a beat during his mouth attack.

I pull him in closer to deepen the kiss and I hear him let out a low grumble as he is more aggressive with the kisses.

Passionate. Chaotic.

I wouldn't have it any other way. We couldn't arrive at the motel soon enough.

When we did arrive, Severen picked up our bags and carried them in to the room and I relaxed on the bed, as Severen went to take part in the tradition of the clan playing poker. I couldn't help but anticipate the game to be over for Sev and I to have some alone time.Maybe go out and steal a motorcycle to take a joy ride on and have some.....action.... Together.

Homer went to get a can of coke after the first match, and Severen was biting at the bit to get..it..on. I came up behind him and decided to tease him a bit, whispering in his ear.

"Sev....I need...you...now. Let's go for a ride..." I murmur before giving a soft little moan in his ear as I give his shoulders a gentle squeeze. He shuts his eyes and exhales through his nose.

"Ohhh darlin', I'm gunna rev you up, that's fer damn sure." He said huskily, accompanied by a groan when I went to nip at his ear.

We were shocked when Homer came back with a young girl. Severen looked like he was gonna make a remark when I saw the glint in his eye, but luckily Diamondback beat him to it and instead asked questions about the girl. Once they found out she was with her father, Severen sprung to go get the man and bring him back.

Guess our alone time would be put on the back burner for a bit.

I sigh and wait for Severen to return, as Mae and Caleb come back all lovey dovey into the room from their escapade.

C'mon, Severen.

I am shocked when the little girl seems to know Caleb. It's his little sister! Great. This is gonna go well. I sigh and cross my arms as the events unfold. Severen comes back with Caleb's father and that's when shit hits the fan.

It seemed like we were gonna get the upper hand until Sarah made a break for the door, causing sunlight to enter and all of us to take cover. Severen took one for the team and closed the door. Once he did, I went to his side and gently pulled him into me before guiding him to the bathroom to get a cool cloth to put against his burns.

Guess playtime was gonna have to wait.

Severen was fuming and just wanting to track down Caleb to end him.

"Goddamnit, I'm gunna make that cocksucker pay! And get my damn spur back! I can't believe I gave him my spur. That sunavabitch! Why I oughta -"

I put the damp cloth against his head and he lets out a low hiss.

"After. First we must rest. We can't do much in the daylight. He ain't worth it. Just let 'em go. It ain't worth it." I try to divert the situation.

He grumbles before we settle in to one of the double beds in the room. He tossed and turned the majority of the time. He wanted vengeance. And his spur. Can't forget that spur. I sigh as I try to rub his back, and he turns towards me. I give him a pleading look.

"I don't want to lose you, Sev. Promise me that. He ain't worth it." I relax into his hand as he gently cups my cheek.

"Nuthin' can tear us apart, darlin' . Trus' me on that."

I sighed and leaned in for a kiss before drifting off. The night time would bring forth Severen's plan to action. The night had its price....and those who went against it would pay.

********************************************

((AN: because this gif, albeit not quoted from the film, just is beautiful. And kinda fits. Sorta. Ok, maybe it's just a gift of a gif.))

#severen #near dark #severen van sickle #near dark 1987 #Love's a burning fire series #severen near dark #Sev #severen x reader

[slushi-chan]

Severen would kill people while singing along to the song playing at a bar

#near dark #near dark 1987 #severen #severen van sickle #severen near dark #near dark severen #he consumes my thoughts

[pixeldog4ever]

Near Dark 1987

Dir. Kathryn Bigolow

Severen: [the group has just entered a bar] Well, I'll be goddamned. Shit-kicker heaven.

#procreate #bw studies #80s movies #80s horror #bill paxton #near dark #kathryn bigelow #severen near dark

[lucindanerd]

Severen

#severen near dark #near dark #vampire #80s nostalgia #80s movies

[e1dritchjackal0pe]

Flopped-Draw

Summary: After a bit of bad news and a horrible reminder of your current reality, your mood takes a decline. And when Severen offers to take you out on a joyride, the night doesn't exactly go as planned.

Notes: 6.9k words. Not proofread.

Warnings: AFAB reader. Cannon typical violence, blood and horror. Severen being Severen . . . But he's trying. Just a little something while I fight writer's block.

Part I, Part II, Part IV

God dammit, Severen. 

You been finding yourself thinking that more than you'd like. Who are you kidding, you've been thinking that same thought since you've been forced into this little motley crew. But Jesus, you could seriously wring his neck right now. You're trying not to give it away, to express what you're thinking but your poker face has never been all that practiced. It's something that Jesse has remarked on more than once. Usually while you're all circled around a table, gulping down old warm whiskey that burns on its way down, with a set of playing cards fanned out in each of your hands. But it applies outside of a card game as well, and you're pretty sure that you're showing all of your tells. 

But in his true self-absorbed, cocky fashion, Severen either hasn't taken notice to your obvious distress and irritation, or more undoubtedly, doesn't care. He's too busy leaning himself against the inside of the driver's side door like he might crawl out of the window, lazily grinning at the officer almost like he's flirting. Almost? No, he's definitely flirting and the man in the tan uniform looks like he might be getting a little flustered underneath Severen's attention. The tips of his ears have flushed red, and he has a rosy blush splashed across his cheeks like there's a chill in the air. But this is no winter night. It's warm and muggy. The night air might as well as be steamed soup. It's not the usual western states that Hooker gang typically frequent. The temperature doesn't drop and get cooler with the descent of the sun. It stays hot and sweltering no matter if it's day or night here. 

That blush is all from being flustered. It would have been sweet if Severen probably wasn't planning on killing the guy. It would be sweet if said guy wasn't a cop, and your face wasn't on missing posters and being broadcasted on news channels. 

Jesse had nearly gone into hysterics when Homer had called out for everyone's attention a few nights back from his place in front of the hotel TV set. You had all collectively turned your concentration from the tabletop, covered with cigarette ash and playing cards (and a few wadded up balls of bloody toilet paper that Severen had used to 'clean' his shirt off with) to the screen, where a blond woman with a bob and a red lip that was a few shades too bright for her was busy giving a report on a missing person. Which would have been fine, (well not fine - it still would have been awful-) if that missing person hadn't had been you. 

It was a photograph of you placed in the corner of the screen. A picture that had been taken of you only a few years back while you were on a vacation at you parents' seasonal lake house on the waterside of Lake George. You were in a soft blue summer dress - robin blue, specifically, one of your favorites. You were beaming at the camera, the camera that you remembered your father had been behind, and your head was tilted against a shoulder, nestling against the pale fabric that covered it. The person you were standing beside was cut out of the image, no doubt to fit it on the screen, but even then, you knew it was Sam.  

You could still recall that day clearly. You had spent a good majority of it out on the lake, reclining on one of your father's boats and sunbathing on the dock, which at one point Sam had picked you up from and tossed you off an into the cool crystalline water with a splash. 

It had been a fond memory of you and him at one point, but now it makes you shudder. 

You had felt a lot of things when you saw your face staring back at you from the TV screen. Surprise, concern, guilt, regret but most notably there was a twisted sort of relief. Relief because they hadn't given up on you. They hadn't accepted the possibility that maybe you had died out there in the desert. They were looking for you. But then that brief flutter of joy was snapped shut between sharp, poisonous claws. This wasn't a good thing. You could never go back to them, not as you are now. Not as you'll be until the sun swells up in the sky and scalds the earth until sears like a piece of bleeding roadkill on the searing asphalt of a backroad. And now they had hope. Hope that you were still alive and there was a chance that they'd be able to find you and bring you home. 

This was awful. This was horrible. It was bullshit, and for the first time you had hoped that they had just assumed you were dead. 

Ever since the news incident, Jesse had been on edge, and as a result he had forbade you from going out by yourself. For being out for too long. He even tried to get you to dye your hair and after you had vehemently refused, he had settled for you at least wearing a cap whenever you went out. It was too much. Too suffocating. And all of his constant, paranoid hovering and rules had made you feel just like you had before you had officially been accepted into the group. Restricted and caged. 

As a result, you have admittedly been irritable as of late. Skulking around with a perpetual storm cloud looming over you, that had no one had been able to break. Not Caleb with his equally oblivious but somehow capable advice; not Mae with her tentative, dry humor. Not even Diamondback. Who was typically good at dragging you out of your funk with her motherly guidance and sharp wit. 

At one point they all stopped trying. 

You had been appreciative of their attempts at giving you space. Of letting you sort out your grief and frustration on your own time. But of course, there was one person in particular who couldn't be asked to respect emotional boundaries or personal space. Who practically harassed and irritated you into leaving the motel to get out of the stuffy room. Which was unfortunately how you ended up sitting on the passenger seat of a stolen Corvette on a lonely road while that 'particular person' was busy flirting with the police officer who had pulled you both over. In a stolen car whose owner was lying dead in a ditch. 

The poor guy's blood was still in the vehicle's interior. Splattered across the leather seats and nylon floorboards in thick red stains, and your only saving grace was that the upholstery was black and that the blotches and smears had dried enough so that they weren't reflecting in the glow of the cop's flashlight. But you could still smell the sweetened iron in the air from the carnage. And you could only send a prayer up to the universe or whoever was out there that it was only your amplified senses that made it so easily to pick up the scent of blood. That his dull, human nose wouldn't be able to detect the aroma of damp pennies and rust. 

And while you were one good nudge away from tripping headfirst into a panic attack, Severen appeared to be having the time of his life while he tried to come up with a convincing excuse as to why he didn't have his license on his person while operating a vehicle. And why he was doing fifty-six over the speed limit. 

"Oh, c'mon, I was just havin' fun!" He declared coyly and his mouth twisted into something all too satisfied and full of teeth. Then his voice dipped down so low that it might as well as been a purr.  "You don't like to have fun?"  

Shameless. Completely shameless. 

But as much as you hate how much he likes to toy with his food, it is serving as some sort of distraction at least. The cop - damn, even with your eyesight it's still impossible to make out the name etched into his name tag from the glare of his light - shuffles on his feet awkwardly. He clearly doesn't know how to handle Severen's teasing. 

"Fun?" The cop echos, bright hazel eyes squinting at Severen in a perplexed type of disbelief. "You consider speeding down a pitch-black road in the middle of night, without a license 'fun'?" 

"Well, I consider a lotta things fun, Sheriff." You could scoff at him if you cared enough to. My god, Severen practically bats his eyes at the guy, coquette and cartoonish. 

"I'm not a sher- listen, you're in for a lot of repercussions for this. " 

But Severen doesn't take it as a threat or a warning, instead he looks positively delighted. Beaming up at the cop like he had just been told a hilarious joke. And the officer doesn't seem to share his amusement, glaring at Severen perturbed and exasperated, even with that blush still painted across his cheeks. There's a strained sort of tension rising now - not the good kind - and you're internally scrambling on figuring out how to defuse the situation, but your brain is simultaneously empty and crowded. 

Then you're leaning forward so that you can be seen from the cop's perspective, ducking down low enough to peer at him from the open window. "I'm sorry my boyfriend, he's a complete idiot - super forgetful!" You just blurt the first excuse that comes to the forefront, and you immediately have regrets as soon as you see the pleased smile that pulls at Severen's lips. Boyfriend, really? Out of everything you could have come up with, that's what you settled with?  And apparently feels the need to sell your pretend relationship, taking it as an invitation to toss his arm across the back of your seat. 

"He was just trying to impress me, " you say lamely, swallowing around the nervous lump in your throat. And for one, long horrendous moment the officer doesn't say anything. The world is just silent apart from the distant sound of crickets chirping and sway of leaves rusting in the musky, perfumed air. And you can feel your gut sinking, your skin prickling with discomfort while paranoia trills down the notches of your spine.

What if recognizes you? Some tiny, worried voice murmurs in the back of your mind. What if he's seen you on the TV? 

 His eyebrow pinching as his face shapes into a scowl, a tense unconvinces expression taking over his features. "Well, I hope you'll still be impressed with him while he's doing jail time." 

And despite the stifling, tense energy that's dipped over you all, you can't help but sigh with some sort of relief. It doesn't seem that he's placed you. That he knows that you're a missing person, and actually feel thankful. 

You open your mouth to say something - what you're not even sure - but then before you can even form the words, Severen is reaching for the handle and swinging the driver side door open, and with it the energy completely shifts like a coin spinning on its edge and clattering on its side with a pronounced clatter. The door slams into the cop's hips, harshly striking against his front, making him rock back on his feet and forcing him to wobble back with a harsh swear. It makes him drop his flashlight and it lands on the ground somewhere near his boots where it casts elongated, dramatic shadows across the both of them. The brightness of the light almost makes everything monochrome with only the rotating flash of the neon red and blue from the cruisers siren to break up the monotony. 

"Sir, get back in the vehic-" 

But Severen of course doesn't listen, rising up out of the car while he chuckles under his breath. A sound that immediately fills you with dread. Nothing good ever comes from his joy. And even with your vision blocked from the expanse of Severen's back, you already know what's about to happen. You can hear it in the cops wavering tone. He tries to sound commanding as he warns Severen to stop. To take a step back with his hands in the air, but his voice is shaken and broken around the edges, expressing his clear discomfort. And you can smell his fear on the air. Sharp and pungent, but almost sugary. But as enticing as the scent is, it's also a stark reminder that you were once in officer's shoes. Locked in Severen's wild, inescapable glare while he grinned down at you like a wild animal with sharp teeth. 

You know that realistically, you can't save the cop. Those who survive crossing paths with the Hooker clan is few and far between. And it's usually amounted to sheer luck and circumstance, and unfortunately for him, you know that he won't be making it out alive tonight. Not even while you pull yourself into the driver's seat to poke your head out of the open doorway. 

"Severen, please, just let him go. " 

It falls on deaf ears, only serving to amuse to Severen. But it does trigger a set of trilling giggles, which is honestly worse than if he just would have told you to shut up. You'd rather he would have insulted you. 

"Oh, c'mon, I ain't gonna do nothing bad to him." 

Liar. 

And then you hear the cop speak again. Trying to sound imposing but failing miserably. "Sir, I need you to move back and raise your hands where I can see them, or I will shoot." 

You know that'll be no good. And you wonder if he's reaching for his gun now. If his fingers are brushing against the grip as a means to warn Severen and comfort himself. Maybe he's finally noticed all of the patches and badges from slain law enforcement on Severen's jacket and has finally placed some of the tiny puzzle pieces together. 

And Severen of course doesn't heed the warning. But then again, to him it isn't one. To him, it's just a suggestion - if even that. He keeps coming towards the officer with relaxed but calculated movements, like a predator closing in on a wounded prey that's been backed into a corner.  

"But officer, I'm just tryin' to have a bit of fun." 

You hate how relaxed he sounds. How pleased and excited he is. It's the same tone he had used with you once. He had taunted you too, just as he's doing to this man who was trying to do his job. Who was just trying to live his life and happened to pull the wrong car over on the wrong night. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. But Severen toying with people wasn't a new development by any means. It was an unfortunate part of his character. A defining attribute even. In the near couple weeks that you've been dragged up and down the highways and rugged backroads of the U.S. you've seen Severen - hell you've seen all of them - hunt and kill. Tearing into their victims with a remorseless ferocity.

And with your resistance to feed, you've taken up on eating off the rest of the group's scraps, drinking up the remaining gulps of blood in their victims' lifeless bodies. But even then, with your reluctant participation, of witnessing the same violence almost every night, it never makes it any easier. There's always that deep chasm of guilt and self-hatred that grows and expands with every bit of torn viscera. Stretching wider after each slaughter. And you know that if you managed to save this guy that it wouldn't do shit to redeem you. It wouldn't cleanse the blood from your hands. It would be like putting a band-aid on a bullet hole. You've seen too much. Done too much. Been complacent. But maybe, just maybe you at least save one person, or give him a head start at least. 

And then what? 

No matter which way you bend this someone has to lose in the end. Severen won't let this guy go, no matter how convincing you try and talk. And this cop isn't going to let the two of you just up and leave. Not with all of the numerous crimes committed. Not with how outright aggressive Severen is being. It's a wrap all around. Someone has to come out on top in this situation. And Severen will fight tooth and nail to make sure that it's him. 

The atmosphere is fully charged now, prickling with something heavy and fuzzy, like TV static and adrenaline. It forces you to shuffle forward in the seat, the back of your jeans squeak against the leather when you push yourself up to rise. 

"Severen, I'm serious, " you warn, trying to sound firm even though you feel anything but. " Just leave him alone. He's just trying to do his job."

Once you're on your feet you can finally see past the breadth of his shoulder. The cop looks rattled. Completely out of his depth. The hand that's hovering near his holster, just over his gun tremors just a bit. So slightly that if you weren't looking for it, you'd never notice. He's rigid in a way the feigns confidence and authority, and he's just barely holding the facade together. Everything about him screams 'rookie.'  

"Don' worry, " Severen coos. Mockingly. And he raises his arms up in the air like he's complying with the cop's request. But you know better. It's all a show for him, something to be used to just twist the metaphorical knife in deeper. To try and lure the officer into a false sense of security, so that he can rip the rug out from underneath him later. "I'll play nice. " 

Though, even then he doesn't stop his approach, herding the cop back off the shoulder of the road and onto the grass. Back towards the lithe, skeletal trees that rise towards the dark sky with their limbs dripping with Spanish moss. And you can hear the random pebbles and sticks crunching underneath the cop's boots with each uncertain step backwards. You could only imagine what Severen looked like right now. The flashlight was probably reflecting in his eyes, making them glint with that animal sort of glimmer and his mouth was likely stretched in that way that's both a snarl and a grin. 

"What are ya gonna do with that? " He taunts openly. "Gonna shoot me with your little toy. Go on then - pull the trigger. " 

The cop's eyes have widened. Perhaps with realization that he might actually have to fire on the man who's steadily approaching him. And a small blossom of empathy unfurls from the pit of your stomach.  He doesn't want to do this; you can easily see that. But then Severen moves. Twitches, and reaches his arms forward like he meant to reach for the guy. The entire movement didn't have real force behind it. No true intent, like a sort of joke - or at least what Severen qualifies as a joke. But the cop is clearly (understandably) on edge, and it was enough for him to draw his gun from its holster and fire a shot. 

It rang out like someone had lit a firework. The close proximity of it rattles your eardrums in a way that hurts and makes your body jerk like you had been jabbed by an electrical current. The sharp ringing blares before it dips into a muted, thick hum, and it's like you're listening to everything from behind a thick wall. But you can still see perfectly fine, even while you're disoriented. Severen hardly moves an inch from the impact of the bullet, but it had struck him if the way that he's holding his coat open is any indication. And you can see his lips spreading into a cruel grin when he smears his fingers his abdomen and lifts them up close to his eyes to inspect. Sure enough, they come up stained with a glistening red. 

He didn't so much as flinch when he was struck, and surprise is clearly expressed on the cop's face as he watches Severen shrug off a bullet wound like it was nothing. And instead of screaming pain, he's hooting into the humid night air like he'd just been told a joke. " I tell you what, there ain't a single shot of whiskey that'll wake you up that will!" He hollers and stomps a boot on the ground, absolutely thrumming with adrenaline. "Really lights a fire under yer ass!" 

But even with all the humor and the carefree way he's carrying himself you can see the tension in his shoulders. Jesus, he's going to do it. He's going to kill him. 

"Severen - don't. " 

"Sir, please just step- " 

That one fleeting moment seems to pass by in a blink, but it's also frozen in time, forcing you to relive all those minute details with open eyes. It's like chaos. Both you and the officer pleading with Severen to comply. To just stay still. But of course, he doesn't do that. That would require patience and humanity. Instead, he's lunging himself forward. Springing on his feet with a quickness that's difficult to track - even with your new senses. And then suddenly he just there. He's clinging to the cop's body like a parasite, his head lowered into the crook of the man's throat, no doubt actively gulping down rivulets of blood from the fresh wound he had made there with his lethal teeth. 

The cop is clearly frozen in shock and his head lulls uselessly on its neck. His eyes. Those are pinned on you. Somewhat unseeing and glazed over, but there's still a noticeable layer of fear underneath that murky cloud.  And you just stand there and watch like you always do, while Severen continues to drain him of blood. You see the light drain from his eyes and fade out into that torpid stare, and you think that you can feel some human part of you detach and fizzle out with it. 

You aren't sure how long you stand there, underneath the intense shifting projection of azure and scarlet, listening to the way that Severen's throat clicks around mouthfuls of blood. It's disgusting. You have to move your attention from it, opting to study the tree line and the swaying branches instead. But you can hear the way that his body thuds when Severen lets his body fall. It makes you flinch, sucking in a breath to try and steel your nerves. You don't want to look. You don't want to see it. Your body apparently has other plans because your gaze darts down to where he lays on the ground in a lax heap. Giving you no other option but to witness what's left of him.  And in the glare of the flashlight the gold of his name tag blinks, outlining the font printed there. 

Mueller. 

His last name was Mueller.

You don't know why it struck you. But it always does. Learning the names of the people who die in the Hooker clan's wake. The people that you kill. That you watch die. There's something about putting a name to a face that solidifies it. That bears down the full weight it all onto you, and you don't think you'll be able to crawl out from underneath it. 

And something heated in you rises when you see Severen hunkers down to unpin Mueller's badge from the front of his uniform. And he just holds it there in the cradle of his palm, spreading a drop of blood that had splattered across it over the front of the shiny brass star with his thumb with a smile on his lips. Another medal for his collection, it seems. After his inspection he's finally rising from his crouched position and moving away from the body. 

"Which one do you think we should take?" 

The sound of his southern drawl pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. He's turned to face you now with fresh coat of glittering crimson smudged across his mouth, making his jack o' lantern like leer all the more menacing. 

"What?" You just barely manage to croak it out. God, your tongue feels like lead. 

He looks at you like you're slow, his forehead creasing as he nods his head in the direction of the cop car. " The cruiser or the vette?" 

Neither, you want to say. But you know that it would be an uphill battle, one that you wouldn't win. Not unless you wanted to walk back to the Inn by yourself. Which honestly, doesn't sound like an awful idea right about now. Instead, you just shrug, not bothering to hide your exasperation and absolutely doing your best to ignore the disappointed look that crosses Severen's face. He's like a kicked puppy sometimes. A rabid one, but a puppy, nonetheless. 

Unfortunately, you can see the utter joy that sparks in his eyes when he turns to ogle his chosen ride, and your stomach plumets just a bit. You should have known, honestly. His curiosity can only be piqued for so long. He shoots you one last mirthful smirk before he sharply turns on the heels of his cowboy boots and practically skips to the cop car; his spurs jingling with each bounding step. Absolutely thrilled and unbothered to leave the pretty Rally Red Corvette behind for an old cruiser. You can't say that you're surprised. 

"Let's get a move on, slowpoke!" He calls with just the faintest hint of laughter before disappearing inside the cab of the vehicle. But you drag your feet regardless, opening the passenger door with about the enthusiasm as a kid being hauled to the doctor's office. As soon as you're secured inside the car, Severen is laying on the gas pedal, spraying loose rocks and dust from the spinning back tires, and he just narrowly misses careening into the rear end of the Corvette; jerking the wheel to correct the cruiser with the stinging burn of hot rubber and squealing tires on pavement.  

You hate to say that you're already growing desensitized to his psychotic driving, but there's still that nervous cluster of butterflies that drop in your stomach whenever he gets in the front seat of a car. The first time you had been with him while he was the one to drive, you were certain that it was probably going to be your last night on earth. He had run several red lights, nearly t-boning a passing truck in the process and took out a mailbox. At first you didn't know what to make of his skills or competency behind the wheel of a car which you could only label as downright abhorrent. You figured that it maybe came from a lack of interest, but that theory was quickly expelled by the sheer number of times that he's gone out of his way to steal vehicles to take on impromptu joy rides. And he's also driven in the stead of the others during shift rotations when traveling, and he's driven well. Perfectly even. 

And because of that you've come to the conclusion that he drives terribly on purpose. For some sort of fucked up thrill. Like an extreme version of bumper cars . . . that has the potential to cause casualties. 

You honestly can't say why you keep willingly placing yourself inside a car while Severen's the one operating. You aren't sure why you go anywhere with him, honestly. It always ends up in violence and senseless bloodshed. He isn't good for your patience or anxiety, but as much as it pains you to admit it, he's . . . entertaining, almost. 

Even now, with the radio that he had turned up to absolute limit, spewing music out from its straining speakers while he sings along at the top of his lungs and playfully raps at the steering wheel with his fingers. It's amusing to see him like this in a morbid sort of way. If it weren't for the splashes of blood staining his clothes it would have been endearing to see him in these sorts of moments. Even though he's erratic and out of control at the best of times. But your options for socializing are often slim, considering that the others are typically too caught up in each other's affairs to make for an enjoyable night out. Though admittedly the clan does consist of two couples, both of which seem to be permanently fixed in the honeymoon phase. And Homer is Homer. Entirely - but understandably - too grouchy to even try and nudge into a conversation that doesn't somehow manage to irk him or remind him that he's indefinitely trapped inside the body of a child despite the many decades he's lived.  

That usually leaves you with Severen of all people. 

"So what's got your panties all up in a twist lately?" Severen all but shouts over the music but makes no move to turn it down. "Is it 'cause of the whole 'missin' person' thing?" 

You could definitely strangle him now. Just reach over the center console and wrap your hands around his throat, even though it wouldn't do much (with the whole 'not having to breathe' thing) it would still make you feel better. Ease some of your frustration at least. But you settle for reaching over and twisting the volume dial down on the radio until the obnoxious song is down to a low whisper, and all while pinning him with the most venomous glare that you can manage, hoping that all of your anger and vexation truly reads from it. Still Severen appears to be blissfully unaware or unaffected by your apparent irritation while he waits for your answer, which is a seething, blunt, "no shit."  "Don't go and get all pissy and fussy, it was just a question." 

You have to scoff at that. "You do realize telling me not to get pissed off, is going to piss me off." 

"Aw, but I jus' can't help myself, " he teases; eyes twinkling. " You're so pretty when you're angry." 

"Oh, God. " You groan, moving your attention away from him to tiredly stare out at the passing forest, catching glimpses of the trees that stand like ancient, cloaked figures.  "Remind me again why I agreed to come out with you?" 

"Cause you love me so much." You do almost laugh from that, and it isn't because you find him funny. " Don't hold it against yourself, I'm quite gorgeous." 

"Maybe if I was blind, " you mutter. Surprisingly, he doesn't respond, and the cabin of the car is filled with heavy silence, with only the sound of tires coasting over pebbles and cracks to fill the void. And now that you have it- the quiet, you aren't sure if you like it. It leaves you to put too much attention on all of the thoughts rattling around in your skull. It lets you think of crystal blue waters, warm balmy summer light dappling through fluttering leaves, unrestrained laughter while you huddle around a bonfire and burn marshmallows until they're a crisp abomination. All of the things that you'll never get to have again. 

"What are we doing out here?" You ask. Anything to get him chattering again. God, you never thought you'd see the day that that would happen.

"You seemed like it could do ya good, gettin' away from the others." He says. It shocks you to say the least. Leaves you staring at him dumbly, waiting for him to make a joke and tell you that he was just playing around and that he didn't mean it, but it never comes. And you aren't sure how to take it. Sure, Severen has always tried in his own way to try and help you properly adjust to your new life. Granted his methods are often unorthodox and a bit . . . violent in nature. But it's usually because it serves him in some way. He rarely does anything without personal gain in mind. Whether it be emotional or physical, Severen is nothing if not self-serving. 

He must feel the way that your eyes are boring into him in a perplexed way, because he's glancing over from the road with his eyebrows furrowed. "What?" It comes out harsh; confused.

You can tell his hackles are rising, and all you can do is shake your head wordlessly before you manage to say something. "Nothing . . . " You purse your lips. "I'm just surprised is all." 

"What the hell for?" 

"I mean, you aren't always the most caring person, " you say gently. 

"I'm plenty caring!" He insists, glaring over at you with blood still smeared across his face. 

"Okay, " you agree. Mostly to appease him but you can tell by the way that he scoffs that he doesn't believe it, and he grumbles something under his breath. Too low to hear, but you're sure that's a creative and colorful string of words like usual. 

"What is it about it that you miss so much?" He says suddenly. You try racking your brain to figure out just what it is but come up completely empty. And when he catches your confused expression, he sighs like explaining is a chore. Like you're the idiot for not understanding him. 

"Ya know, your life before." 

It feels like a frigid bucket of water had been dunked over your head. You aren't even sure how to approach this, or if you even want to have this conversation with Severen, as tactless and brash as he is. You know that it's next to impossible to try and find sympathy in him. His human life was so long ago. Hell, he's been . . . whatever he is - whatever you are - for longer than he was a human. Trying to get him to care would probably be about as successful as trying to teach a mean streak out of a fighting dog. Not a lost cause necessarily but you aren't sure if you have the patience to even try. And honestly the fact that he even has to ask why you're so distressed makes you realize how out of touch he even is. But on the flip side it also shows that he might be at least willing to try. And that seems to be enough to dampen some of the searing anger simmering in your chest. 

"I don't even know . . . " You answer truthfully. "All of it. Even the things that I used to hate. Having to wake up at 7 am, doing taxes, washing dishes. I'd take all of back, right in a heartbeat." 

Once again, another bout of silence falls over you both. Stifling and awkward for no reason, and a part of you wonders if you've actually managed to offend him. Or hurt what little bit of feelings have managed to survive all of the years that he's been alive. But you also can't find it in yourself to be completely guilty over it if you have. And there's some dark little piece of you that relishes in the fact that you may have cut him somewhere deep; to get him to feel even the faintest bit like you have for the past couple of weeks. 

"I've heard you talk about them, " he says cryptically, and you have to turn to look at him for clarification. "Your family. Your parents and your . . . ex. They all sounded like a buncha overbearin' pricks." 

"Hey!" You snap, irritation flaring. "Say whatever you want about him, but I don't want to hear a word about my parents."

And thankfully that seems to be enough for him to drop his questions. For all of two seconds. 

"What is it that you liked about - what was his name? - Sonny?" He asks. 

You really aren't sure where all of this is coming from, and truth be told, you don't really like it. Why now all of a sudden, he has an interest in your old life, after tearing it away from you and making your day-to-day existence hell. But regardless, you find yourself responding all the same. 

"Do you mean Sam? " You squint at him through the dark. "I was young, and he was sweet, and he actually talked to me. "You confess, shifting in your seat. "We used to spend hours just talking about nothing in particular. It would make me feel like we were the only people in the world."

"But not anymore?" 

It's a simple set of words that shove you back into all of those lonely, isolated days of your engagement. All the excuses for being home late, all of the impromptu business meetings and outings with his friends, and towards the end he didn't even want to touch you. And there was always a reason for that, too. Exhaustion from the job, headaches, and sometimes he expressed an outright lack of interest. All of which you'd blow off. Tell yourself not to take personally. That he'd come to you whenever he was ready to. But he never did. He went to other women for that instead. And it left you scrambling. Trying to navigate a world where the love of your life had suddenly turned his back on you and began treating you like a stranger instead of a lover and confidant. And you couldn't even turn to your own mother or father or even friends as a shoulder to cry on. To express your worries. You were just being a paranoid finance.

It happens, they had all said. He'll come back to you eventually.

You had never felt more isolated in your entire life. Had never been lonelier than you had in those final months. And the reminder leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. 

"No, not anymore," you answer honestly. 

"I could always kill him for you." 

That blindsides you completely. Sends you reeling from the abruptness of it. Yes, Severen threatening murder came as easily as breathing for him, and actually acting out on it was even easier. But him threatening to do it for you was completely new, and you weren't sure how to handle that. In fact, you didn't even want to sit and unpack that little bit of information. 

"No!" You exclaim, and you swear that you can see his shoulders deflate in disappointment. Hypothetically the idea sounds appealing, in some distant alternate reality, but here and now you couldn't imagine siccing Severen on anyone. Not even the man who had singlehandedly spat and torn apart your trust like it was nothing. "Just, no." 

"Do you want some ice cream?" 

"What?" 

"You heard me." He replies quickly." I'm pretty sure we passed a gas station a coupla miles back." 

It's another strange offer. Completely out of the blue and one that you wouldn't have seen coming in a million years. Not from Severen at least. But it seems that he's just full of surprises tonight. 

"Why would I want ice cream?" Truthfully the idea of it doesn't sound bad by any means. It would be nice to do something as normal as going into a store somewhere and just buying a Drumstick from some old reach in freezer or something. But the proposition is so bizarre that you have to fish for some sort of explanation.  

Severen just shrugs, all blase. "Might make ya feel better." 

And there it is again. His apparent desire to appease your dwindling mood. It makes you want to ask him if someone put him up to it. If Diamondback or Mae had come to him and pressured him into taking you out to get some time away from everyone. But some tiny part of you keeps yourself from interrogating him with a rapid fire. You're fine with living in a bit of ignorance. You're too tired to try and figure out if he's just doing this because he had been forced to. And as much as you'd hate to admit it, you'd like to think that he actually wanted to be out here with you tonight; even though he isn't exactly your favorite person in the world. And the idea that he did truly take time out of his night to even try to cheer you up (in his own twisted way) has something syrupy and warm tingling inside your chest. A feeling that you're absolutely going to ignore right now. 

You could tell him no. To turn around and drop you back off at the Inn. But you would be lying if you aren't interested to see where accepting this little olive branch of his might go. If Severen truly does have the potential to be compassionate. 

"Sure." You say, reaching down towards the volume dial on the radio, twisting it up so high that you have to shout over the sound of a blaring guitar solo. "I'd love some!" 

Severen turns his head and grins at you. Bloodied lips stretching over sharp teeth and the blue of his eyes gleam in a feral kind of way. Delight and mischief twinkling in the pair, but there's the hint of something that might be fondness too. And then he leans to flip a switch on the control box and the wail of the siren comes to life in an obnoxious cry. But you don't have the heart to tell him to turn it off now. Instead, a smile of your own tugs on your lips when he presses down on the gas, prompting the car to charge forward with a guttural purr from the engine. 

He howls in the air like a madman, tossing his arm in the air to punch the roof of the car like he's unable to control his excitement. 

"Then strap in, babydoll!" 

#severen x reader #severen van sickle x reader #severen near dark #severen van sickle #near dark x reader #near dark 1987 #near dark

[venus-haze]

Open All Night (Severen x Reader)

Summary: The Hooker clan breaks decorum and sets up camp for a few weeks in a small Southern city after shaking Caleb’s father off their trail. It doesn’t take them long to find out another one of their kind has already made the turf home. You just hope they won't cause any trouble. [This is an AU.]

Note: Female reader, but no descriptors are used. Based on this request by @rock-n-macabre! This was so much fun to write🖤 Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: Yandere elements such as stalking, threats, and manipulation. Canon-typical violence and murder. Sexually explicit content that involves bloodplay, choking, mentions of breeding kink. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Death announced its arrival with a holler. The door swung open, and as each one ambled inside the bar with varying degrees of bravado, you knew what they were. Could smell it on them. The crimson glow from the neon lights that washed over each patron was especially appropriate. It’d been years since you met anyone who was like you, and now six were sliding into a large corner booth.

Most of the ragtag bunch didn’t pay you any mind, too absorbed in taking stock of the bar patrons, mostly regulars who you’d known for years. As you mixed drinks and poured beers, you kept an eye on them as best as you could. Then, the older man made eye contact with you. Clearly the de facto leader of the group. For a few moments, you held his gaze. The woman at his side turned to glare at you before a grin spread across her face. Not one to be intimidated, you grabbed the notepad from your apron and made your way over to the table.

“I’m Y/N, how can I help y’all tonight?” you asked with a deceptive cheerfulness, your eyes scanning the group before lowering your voice. “If you’re here for what I think you’re here for, I’m gonna tell you right now, this ain’t the place.”

The older man held up a weathered, assuring hand. “We ain’t gonna encroach your territory.”

You nodded. “Good, then I’ll make some drinks. On the house.”

“Lookit that hospitality,” the shaggy-haired man with his worn leather jacket crooned mockingly. He licked his lips. “Oughta give you a tip.”

“Charming,” you said sardonically. 

The way he looked at you nearly sent a shiver down your spine, but instead you straightened your back, maintaining your composure. He winked at you, and you smiled despite yourself. 

“I’ll be right back,” you said, turning around to walk back to the bar and make the promised drinks.

“Don’t mind Severen,” the woman said, getting up to walk over to the bar with you. “He’s got hot air where his brain should be. I’m Diamondback.” She named the rest of the clan, and you tried to commit their names to memory.

Clans weren’t uncommon among your kind. They guaranteed safety, though it often meant a nomadic lifestyle as to not draw attention to the sheer number of humans killed. This clan, however, seemed almost hellbent on causing a scene, clearly disappointed you were standing between them and having their fun.

You smirked a bit upon hearing the conversation that had started in the corner booth upon your absence.

“What’re the fuckin’ odds,” Jesse sighed.

“What is it?” Caleb asked in a hushed tone.

“Ya don’t gotta whisper,” Severen said. “She can hear us anyhow.”

“She’s one of us?”

Homer made a raspberry noise. “Duh.”

You snickered, bringing your attention to Diamondback, who was grinning at her clan’s antics. “Nice to meet you. I guess.”

Pulling a flask from your apron pocket, you glanced in either direction as you opened it, pouring the contents into each of the drinks you’d made. The blood was best concealed in dark liquor. It was relatively fresh, having drained it from an asshole trucker who had spent half the previous night harassing you. 

Some nights, during long shifts where you couldn��t carve out time to hunt someone down yourself, the gruesome mixture was all that could keep you going. Your instincts scared you sometimes, as people you considered friends so quickly warped into potential meals. Hands shaking, saliva practically dripping from your lips when you handed them their drinks.

“Just you out here?” Diamondback asked, grabbing two glasses while you put the rest on a tray.

“I’m solitary, if that’s what you mean.”

“Hell, good for you. Must be tough.”

“You get used to it.”

Bringing the tray of drinks over, you set each glass in front of the group. Homer smiled when he saw you were giving him the same thing as everyone else. You just hoped Jimmy, the bartender and owner, wouldn’t notice you serving alcohol to someone who looked like an eleven year old boy. You supposed if you were decades old but were stuck in the body of a kid, you wouldn’t appreciate being treated like one by someone who knew better.

Everyone in the clan looked pretty young, save for Jesse. You figured Mae and Caleb had been hardly out of high school when they were turned, Severen and Diamondback in their twenties or thirties, about the same age you had been when you were turned.  

You were impressed as Severen threw back what was in the glass, while everyone else sipped somewhat cautiously. 

“Blood’s not fresh, but it ain’t bad,” Jesse said, the closest you’d get to a compliment from him.

“You’re not gonna run off now, are ya?” Severen asked, not even trying to hide the way he was drinking you in, the murky blood concoction you’d just served dripping from the corner of his lips.

Out of defiance and curiosity, you did the opposite.

“Hey Jimmy!” you shouted. “I’m taking my thirty!”

He gave you a thumbs up from the bar, and you sat down next to Severen. You pulled a pack of cigarettes from your apron pocket, taking one for yourself and leaving the rest on the table, another peace offering of sorts. No fucking trouble in your territory.

“Don’t come across others like us very often,” Jesse said.

“Me either. Y’all are the first ones to come along since I’ve been working here.”

“How long’s that been?” Mae asked.

“‘Bout eight years.”

“We won’t be stayin’ that long,” Jesse said with a chuckle. “Few weeks at most.”

You nodded your silent approval. It’d be nice having others like you around for a while. Besides, they could only do so much damage in a few weeks. The city was far too big for that, though their disregard for human life of any kind gave you some pause, especially since they didn’t feel the need to conceal it from you.

In the following two weeks, they’d come and go during your shifts, some in pairs, some alone, sometimes the whole group. Severen almost always came in when you were working, sitting at the bar and blatantly flirting with you. He nearly started half a dozen fights with men who dared do the same. You found it flattering. Jimmy thought it was bad for business and threatened to ban Severen unless you got him under control. The notion almost made you laugh. You weren’t sure anyone could control him.

As a compromise, you promised to spend one of your nights off with Severen. He jumped at the offer, the two of you meeting outside of the bar just after sunset one warm evening.

“Ridin’ solo tonight, cowboy?” you asked when you walked over to him.

“Somethin’ like that,” he said. “You ever hunt with someone else before?”

“Nope.”

He grinned. “Shit, I get to pop your cherry.”

“Somethin’ like that,” you echoed, smiling when he put his arm around you.

The two of you wandered downtown for a while, ducking in and out of various shops as they were about to close. Being around Severen was the first time in a long time that you didn’t feel like you had to be guarded. Even with your human friends, you always had to hold part of yourself back. 

“You like workin’ at bars?” he asked.

“Yeah, get to meet a lot of interesting people,” you said, nudging him with your elbow. “It’s pretty much the only job where I can work the night shift and not worry about sunlight. Plus, everyone’s too drunk to say anything about me looking the same for years.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “How old are you anyway?”

“Don’t you know you should never ask a lady her age?” you said. “If you must know, I’m 74.”

“I reckon I’m about a hundred by now.”

“You’re lying!”

“Scout’s honor.”

“Well, hurry up old man,” you teased. “I’m getting hungry.”

The two of you kept walking until you reached a more isolated part of the city, one where the streetlights flickered endlessly or didn’t work at all. If you didn’t feed at the bar, that area was your usual hunting grounds. The Hooker clan seemed to have the same idea as you, since murders spiked in the area and were all over the news. It was more desolate than ever as a result. 

You and Severen stood in the shadows, observing passersby for your first target of the night. Following Severen’s gaze, you spotted a man leaning against a building, smoking beneath a dim light. You frowned. You knew him. Hank. A regular patron at the bar.

“Severen, not him.”

He scoffed. “Don’t tell me you have a soft spot for these people.”

“He has a wife and kids at home,” you pleaded softly.

Severen looked from the man to you, his hands balled into fists as he huffed. “There anyone around here you don’t know?”

“That’s why I work in bars. Got my pick of strangers.”

“And it don’t bother you none that they might have a wife and kids at home?”

You were silent for a moment as you weakly defended yourself. “It’s different.”

“No, it ain’t,” he said, grabbing your arm. “You gotta toughen up, baby.” The term of endearment left a sour taste in your mouth when he used it, mocking your hesitation, your sentimentality. 

He practically dragged you over to Hank, this man you’d known for years, who’d proudly shown you his kids’ school photos every fall. Hank’s eyes lit up in recognition upon seeing you, but just as quickly that light went out when Severen released you from his grip and dug his fingers into Hank’s scalp. You watched, mortified as Hank’s neck snapped at the force Severen used to pull his head back. 

Severen didn’t hesitate to sink his teeth into Hank’s skin, lapping up the blood that flowed freely from the wound he inflicted. The primal hunger that you tried so hard to control clouded your senses, as did an unprecedented lust for the savage man before you, who had no qualms about killing, enjoyed it even. He was free, undoubtedly dangerous, and you couldn’t keep yourself from feeding on Hank’s dying body with him. 

You indulged, feeling the familiar satisfaction of consuming blood rush through your body like a bolt of lightning. Sometimes, when you were especially famished, feeding felt better than sex. Between the blood and Severen pawing at you, humping your blood-soaked body like a stray dog, you felt dizzy.

“I need you,” he practically growled. “Fuck, baby.”

“I know, but we can’t stick around here.” You panted, your hands fruitlessly trying to keep his passion at bay. “My place ain't far.”

His frustration tore through his throat, the blood dripping from his chin the epitome of the apex predator in the moonlight. Nevertheless, he relented, the two of you rushing to your car, which you’d parked just a block over from the bar, as if something in you sensed something like this would happen. The area was dark and mostly desolate, and you took off before he’d even fully shut the passenger door.

You didn’t live far, though the drive felt endless even with your doing twenty over and running through red lights. The headlights seemed to cross as you swerved about the road, trying to drive steady with Severen practically climbing over to your seat, hands roughly groping your breasts while he dug his teeth into your skin.

He shoved his hand between your legs, rubbing the heel of his palm against your cunt, the fabric from your jeans creating a rough friction that you keened into, and your arms jerked as you nearly steered off the side of the road.

“Fuckin’ pull over,” he ordered, his voice low.

“Almost there.”

“Yeah?” 

He applied more pressure, and you moaned, seeing your street in the distance. “Yeah, right there.”

By the time you pulled haphazardly into the driveway, you felt like your heart was going to explode if it even beat at all. The small house you rented was relatively secluded for the area, something you were especially thankful for as you were sure you and Severen would draw attention from any passersby.

Not bothering with the lights, you pulled him by his belt loops into your bedroom, his lips attached to yours until you began peeling off your blood-soaked clothes. The copper scent that filled the room nearly had you drooling, and as soon as he kicked off his boots, you pounced on him.

He reached between you, fingers rubbing circles in your clit, your pussy already sensitive from his teasing in the car.

“Severen, c’mon,” you whined. “Don’t—ah—“

You could feel the tip of his cock poke at your wet cunt, and you lifted your hips in response. He slid into you, his thrusts deep and hard. Sex with human men was underwhelming, but it was something. Severen was a different beast entirely. You choked on your own moan, wrapping around your throat until you realized it was his hand, you could actually feel it.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “You’re gonna be good and take it all, ain’t you, baby?”

You nodded frantically, unable to speak.

“Knew you would—fuck—“

He pounded into you, your pussy clenching around his cock. Sweat brought the dried blood on your skin almost back to life, the smell triggering something deep in you as your bodies practically stuck together. Though he stared intensely in your eyes, you struggled to keep yours open as you neared your orgasm. He reached his first, though, a deep groan as he threw his head back, hips bucking violently against you as you felt warmth fill you.

Pleasure cracked through your body like a whip, and you arched your back, a moan coming from deep in your belly as you came. You couldn’t remember the last time your muscles ached, a dull pain as you settled next to Severen, who’d collapsed beside you on the bed.

“Does this always happen when you hunt with someone?”

“Once. A long time ago. She was a lil’ too wild for me, even.”

“Shut up,” you laughed, lightly hitting his bare chest.

“You oughta come with us. Forget this place and be with your own kind,” he said. 

“It’s not that simple. I’ve made a life here. I have a job, and friends,” you said, as if you hadn’t eaten one of those friends just a few hours earlier.

“You ain’t lonely?”

“Sometimes,” you said. “You don’t ever feel suffocated with so many people around all the time?”

“No, I do best with an audience.”

“I can tell.”

When morning came, your blackout curtains shielded you and Severen from the unforgiving sun, the two of you curled up in your bed, dried blood caked on your skin. About an hour before your shift, you took a shower, though you couldn’t quite scrub all of the blood from your nails. You hoped no one at the bar would notice.

Severen had made himself busy wandering around your house, opening every drawer and cabinet he came across when you told him you were headed to work. He nodded, not sparing you a glance when he mentioned he and the rest of the clan would stop by later on. Strange.

Your car’s upholstery was fucked, but you hoped with enough bleach and elbow grease, you could get it looking less like a murder scene. It kind of was one. You tried not to think about that too much.

Otherwise, your shift went by without consequence, though you’d heard people talking about how Hank had been found brutally murdered.

“You sure you wanna work tonight?” Jimmy asked. “If you wanna go home early, you can. Cops are sayin’ it was an animal attack, but I’m not so sure.”

“I’ll be fine, Jimmy. Thanks,” you said, forcing a smile that just as quickly fell when you saw Severen walk in with the rest of the Hooker clan. 

He hadn’t even bothered to clean the previous night’s blood off, giving you a wicked grin when he saw you.

“How're you shitkickers feelin’ tonight?” he hollered. “Better be great, ‘cause it’s gonna be your last.”

Jesse grabbed a bottle off the bar, smashing it against a man’s face and then pouncing when he collapsed on the floor in pain.

“What the—“ Jimmy muttered, reaching for the rifle he kept beneath the bar.

You watched in horror as Severen jumped on top of the bar, and with a fluid kick, sliced Jimmy’s throat open with the razor sharp spurs on the heel of his boot. Your boss collapsed in your arms, his garbled choking noises drowned out by the sound of gushing blood, and possessed by your instincts, you devoured, your thirst leaving you content to ignore the pandemonium that had broken out among the patrons.

Their shouts echoed in your ears. Bitch. Monster. Demon. Vampire. Someone had thrown a bottle at you. You didn’t even flinch.

By the time you had come to your senses, blood dripping from your mouth, eyes wide and wild, the clan had made a meal of nearly everyone in sight. You caught Severen’s gaze, an expression of pride and affection on his blood-covered face. You stormed over to him, grabbing him by his jacket collar.

“Why did you do that? I’ve known these people for nearly ten years and—“

“Ten years ain’t nothin’. ‘Nother ten and most of ‘em would be dead anyway.”

“That’s not the point! They were my—“

“Friends? Some friends, turned on you real fast once they saw you chowin’ down on your old boss.”

“You better decide what your next move is quick, ‘cause once we burn this place down, cops are gonna be here faster than you can blink,” Diamondback said from a few feet away, pushing aside a young man she’d just drained of blood. Letterman jacket. College football star. Not anymore.

“She’s coming with us,” Severen said in a tone you knew there was no use in trying to argue against. “No more of this human bullshit.”

Jesse nodded. “Alright, then. Let’s light this place up.”

You watched helplessly as they grabbed bottles off the bar, stuffing them with cloth they’d ripped from the bodies of the dead patrons and rushing outside. Severen handed you a bottle, and you had little choice but to throw the explosive when he lit the end of it, watching the life you’d so carefully built for yourself literally go up in flames.

Hearing sirens in the distance, you took Severen’s hand, tears blurring your vision as you ran into the uncertainty of your nomadic life with the Hooker clan.

#severen x reader #near dark #slasher x reader #severen van sickle #severen near dark #severen #near dark 1987 #slasher fandom #slasher community #vampire x reader