Archive of Our Own ^beta

Rage. Blistering, bubbling anger bursting underneath her blood-drained skin; an untamed fire coiling in their veins, making up for the eternal frost. The blaze, ever growing, devours the remnants of her humanity, completing the transformation wholly; the white strands cascading around their pale face evident of their metamorphosis.

Their emotions have been amplified since her turning, overwhelmingly intense, spawned from the rebirth of her undeath: angry at Pyro for turning them, furious at Avid for quite literally everything the pathetic excuse for a vampire had done. Her life she lived before, every emotion, every impulse has been inflated.

Quite frankly she was done with everyone in town, done with the castle vampires: she was in this for themself… and perhaps Pearl.

Pearl. Pearl who they had left curled up in their double bed with Oscar snuggled against her chest, peaceful and graceful even in sleep. Pearl who had somehow thrown herself head first into every confrontation with the vampires and somehow, somehow surfaced with crimson still blossoming underneath her skin.

Was it selfish of them that some part of her longs for Pearl’s companionship through their eternal life? To drain the life out of their roommate so that for the endless years to come they could stash her away and keep her safe?

She was helpless; the werewolf hunter didn't falter in the face of danger, triggering Owen and carelessly throwing herself into the worst possible scenarios. How many vampires had she faced today alone? How many times had Cleo failed to keep the woman safe?

Owen and Apo had driven her out of town, forcing her to jump off a bridge to hold onto her remaining life – and what had Cleo been able to do? Plead… and lay themself vulnerable.

”I won't hurt Pearl. She’s min- my… puppy..” What had they even been saying? Pearl wasn’t theirs, she was her own person but the thought of Owen or Avid or quite literally any other vampire’s fangs approaching the bare flesh of Pearl’s neck sends tsunamis of some unknown emotion flooding through Cleo’s entire system.

Groaning they shake their head, lifting their scarlet eyes to gaze at the sky, inked with crimson. The moon glowers with red, an unholy warning that the town failed to identify before Pyro had been dragged into the depths of the lake and turned so early into their founding of the town’s ruins.

Her clawed fingers curl into the flesh of her palm, digging deep and exposing a pathway for what little stolen blood they possess to seep down the lengths of their fingertips and drip down in sticky clumps towards the forest floor. Their hunger has been just barely satiated for the moment, replenished on the bottles of chicken’s blood in which she’d consumed at the rate of a drunkened man addicted to the lull of alcohol.

Despite the blood trickling in her veins in a territory foreign to its origins, the lust to sink her fangs into human skin and draw out the savoury taste of human blood is overwhelming. If it wasn't for their role as a double agent they would’ve long since dug into every remaining townsfolk and gorged themself on the taste that they’ve only received the scraps of.

Sausage had offered some of his blood and the taste was indescribable and outmatched any animal blood she’d been surviving on. “That’s because you haven’t tried Pearl yet, right Pearl?” He’d responded to her ravings of his blood being the first and only human blood to drink.

And the worst part, it was true. They hadn't been able to stay in town with the scent of Pearl’s wounds clinging to her. The blood was so fresh and sweet; pulling her in like some kind of anchor. They’d left town with the hopes of clearing her head and instead every train of thought had been directed back at their roommate.

“Cleo. What are you doing out here?” She startles, sharp eyes turning around swiftly and landing upon an approaching bat, her clawed hands unclench, at the ready to defend themself.

“Scott.” They acknowledge. The man emerges from his second form, wings seeming to fall back into his shadow as the man steps forward, bat form discarded. “Is there anyone else with you?” Their eyes flick into the endless shroud of darkness through the forest barrier, even with their enhanced night vision gifted in the wake of their death, it was impossible to know who was listening in to any given conversation.

The elder vampire pauses, his unbeating heart eternally frozen. He presents a hand in front of him and borderly observes his nails. “Drift, Apo and Shelby are asleep at the castle.” Scott’s eyes flick up to watch her with thoughtful eyes, dissecting their carefully crafted layers with little struggle. “And quite frankly I don’t care for where Owen is.”

“And your entourage of fans who would do anything for a drop of your attention?” The quite literal undying devotion that Pyro and… Avid of all people were presenting to Scott was honesty sickening; the two of them enthralled under his carefully crafted charisma disguising the cruel machiavellian reality.

“I managed to throw them off.” He grins, fangs glinting pearly white in the red light of the crimson moon, "Truly such devoted fledglings, they're growing on me, I’ve almost forgiven them for stealing my prey… ehem… Pyro.” They glare at him, a new flicker of rage bursting at being referred to as prey.

“How unlike you.” They respond, attempting to gain an upperhand in this situation. “I thought you rather liked having a collection of suck ups to walk all over.” The other vampire, still leaning against the bare bark of one of the darkened oak trees, narrows his eyes.

“That reminds me,” he begins with a sharpened grin, ruby eyes glinting. If she could still breathe their breath would be stuttering at the tone and intensity that Scott had just turned upon them. “I was talking to Owen earlier about a little… accident that happened just yesterday.” They mask their face and continue to face the other vampire. “One involving a bridge and your dear roommate Pearl.”

Something in their stomach drops as they’re brought back to that horrifying moment, watching helplessly as the human had been driven out of her own town by a flock of vampires. If it weren’t for her holy cry and Apo’s flinty loyalty Pearl would’ve been dead under the ruthless vengeance of Owen. She still remembers the enraged snarl “Apo!” that had escaped their jaws as her roommate had thrown herself off the bridge.

“Owen seems to think she’s just like the rest of them, a threat that needs to be eliminated and frankly I’ve fought her a few times in the past few days, some of those times came dangerously close to my demise.” He steps closer, clasping one of his cool hands over her shoulder and squeezing, it’s awfully uncomfortable “Drift hangs off every sentence you speak and you as well have mentioned a desire for Pearl to be turned to me earlier.”

They send a glare his way. “You’ve said so yourself, she’s dangerous, a threat.” She shrugs his hand off her shoulder, attempting to remove the unwelcome ice that he’s been infectiously spreading across the surface of her collar bone. “If we want any chance of winning this brewing war we need to eliminate their strongest fighters.”

“Eliminate.” He repeats, “And turning one of the stronger fighters and giving her more strength? You think that will benefit us?” His undead eyes turn on them, voice flat.

“Yes.”

“I see right through you Cleo. You want her turned so you can be together through your forced eternity. You don’t care for anything else in this game of cat and mouse.”

“Well, maybe a little bit.” They admit, Scott is facing her with unreadable eyes, “Even so, she would be a good addition to the vampires, far better than your other new fledglings, Drift and Avid. At least Pearl has a backbone.”

He grins, fangs flashing once more, “Like I said before, I’ll consider it, I can see your little girlfriend means a lot to you.” He pauses, “Although from the hunger in your eyes I doubt you’ll resist much longer before turning her yourself.”

“I won’t hurt Pearl.” They push back the dangerous thoughts of claiming the werewolf hunter, sinking their fangs into her flesh and going drunk off of her impossibly sweet blood.

“Look, Cleo,” Scott begins, "I'm like, totally supportive, just so you know, I swing towards the same gender as myself too, just saying.” She throws him a confused expression, “I don't know what the societal stance is on homosexual relationships but back when I went to sleep — six hundred years or so ago — they were still hunting down witches – but like, I’m a proud sire over here to see that one of the fledglings is emotionally competent enough to get a girlfriend!” He fawns a hand over his heart.

“...not my girlfriend.”

“If you say so.”

They startle, surprised at his draw back from the questioning, slightly confused to his weirdly proud expression. She shakes their head slightly to push away the thoughts of… Pearl… again... and pulls back up their facade as they continue speaking to Scott about the typical information sharing that comes with being a double agent.

Suddenly their conversing is broken off by the sensation of a heartbeat approaching – a human – Scott vanishes in a plume of ashes, using his invisibility to fade into the treeline as Cleo spins around swiftly to defend themself against the new comer, stumbling slightly at the appearance of her roommate sauntering through the forest with little care, approaching Cleo.

“There you are Cleo!” She smiles, the faint scent of blood growing stronger and stronger, impossible to resist, their stomach churns uncomfortably. Her brown hair looks perfect despite her recent awakening from her slumber. Blue eyes impossibly pale and bright; a vibrant sky in the sea of crimson around them, their last anchor to humanity, to hope.

“Pearl, what are you doing out here?” They take a step towards their roommate, pausing when a fresh wave of nausea hits them. Pearl's wounds have dried by now but the emotions in her stomach are undecided; a sour tang laces their tongue, a desirable taste that contradicts everything they value.

“I woke up and you were gone.” She replies simply, voice soft, melodic. “I was worried about you.” The flowers in her hair are red like blood.

“The woods aren't safe at night – nowhere is safe to go alone, Pearl.” They fret, “What if the vampires found you?”

“They haven’t got me yet.” She gleefully states, now fully in front of Cleo and forcing them to look up to meet their eyes. “Besides, you’re more important to me. As you put it, we’re the only sane ones, we’ve got to stick together.” Cleo can’t help the fluttering burst of wings enclosing their throat.

They open their mouth then shut it fast, a waft of Pearl’s blood hitting the glands on the roof of their mouth. Eventually they softly speak. “Thank you, Pearl. That's actually really sweet.” Pearl smiles and it almost makes her forget their gnawing hunger. “Even so, you should get back to the town.” Where it’s safer.

“I’m not leaving you out here to brood alone.”

“But I’m a vampire, it’s not safe for you to be with me.” Never mind the fact they were pretty sure Scott was still around here somewhere, watching.

“I trust you.”

“You shouldn’t. I’m scared I’ll hurt you, Pearl, and I couldn’t live with that.”

“You won’t.” She pauses, “Hurt me that is.”

“You can’t be so sure of that, I mean, look at my hair, my eyes.” They can see the crimson reflected in the depths of Pearl’s dilated pupils, that pretty sky blue, a moat around them, protecting them. Their white curls flowing down their back and shoulders, the polar opposite to the fiery ginger they’d had when they first came to this town.

“Cleo, listen to me; since being turned have you or have you not hurt anyone.” They shake her head, emotions lulled by the soft tone of Pearl’s voice, laced with her familiar accent. “I need a verbal answer, Cleo.”

“I haven’t. Only animals.. And Sausage, but he volunteered.”

“Exactly.” She steps forward, it’s dangerous. “I trust you Cleo, I know you.” Her warm palm, a temperature so foreign to them now, gently cups their face and they immediately melt into it. “You’re Cleo, Cleo who somehow is able to keep the entire ragtag group of Oakhurt together despite everything you’re going through. The Cleo who bravely stormed the Vampire’s castle with Martyn.”

“That wasn’t brave. That was stupid.”

“You took Drift under your wing — quite literally — with no hesitation, you’re kind, Cleo, anyone can see that.” Her voice has grown softer, the scent of her blood dissipating as their heart attempts to restart under the proximity of the hunter. Pearl’s other hand reached up to cradle her other cheek. “You chased after Owen when he tried to kill me earlier. That’s not even all of it, Cleo, I trust you with my life.”

“Then you’re a fool.”

“Then I’m a fool.” Pearl parrots, teeth, perfect and white and human smiling back at her.

“That doesn’t change the fact of what they’ve made me, I’m a part of their vampire family in the castle whether I want to be or not.” They lift up a hand to move Pearl’s hand away but can’t help but soak every last remnant of the provided warmth — the provided comfort — their hand usually hovers over the werewolf hunter’s own.

“Let them have their vampire family, but Cleo, you’re my family and nothing's going to change that.” She brushes her thumb across Cleo’s cheek — when had they let that tear fall? “Just because you’ve got yourself a new set of flappers, a gorgeous makeover and some fangs that are unfairly hot doesn’t change who you are Cleo, you’re still my roommate, my friend.”

They don’t know how it happens, the both of them are so close to one another. She doesn’t care that Scott is probably still watching but in the silver eclipse of the moon they pull Pearl impossibly closer, the brewing tension flowing over as they take the chance.

And then they’re kissing.

Her warm lips are pressing deep into their own cool ones, Pearl’s hand having reached around the side of her face into the roots of her hair, pulling Cleo closer into the kiss. Their bodies are flush with one another, the warmth engulfing them both.

Their fangs graze over Pearl’s lips and she feels the sensation of the other woman’s eyelashes fluttering against Cleo’s own skin. Greedily they push further, sighing into Pearl’s mouth.

It’s everything they’ve ever dreamed of, the sensation matching the hallucination of the wildest of drugs. The air they cannot breathe forced into their lungs from Pearl’s own, her lips forcefully pressing against their own and digging into their fangs.

It’s soft. That’s the best way they can describe it. They grew up under the cruel, exploiting of their adored mother under the false guidance of love. Forced into caring for the livestock and providing for the other vampire — not once in their life had they ever received anything in return.

And what Pearl was giving her now was unmatched to anything in the world. It makes all of this worth it, their turning, Oakhurst as a whole — to feel Pearl so purely against their own body, having to slightly tilt their head to push upwards into the kiss..

They’ve only stopped out of necessity as Pearl still has to breathe. Her face is flushed, air coming in pants out of her lungs. Her brown hair cascades down her shoulders, slightly frazzled after the passion they’ve both shared. “Hopefully more than just a friend after that.” She smiles slightly between breaths, lips swollen from the intensity of Cleo’s own.

It takes them a second to connect the dots of their prior conversation, chuckling slightly before murmuring, “I’d like that.” Over Pearl’s shoulder they see the silhouette of Scott, toothy grin with a thumbs up before he morphs into a bat and flies off.

As soon as it looks like Pearl has caught her breath she draws in close again, Pearl happily complying to this arrangement, running her blood-warm fingers through Cleo’s hair with such care and love they’ve never received before, her lips part slightly with a gasp as they placed a cool hand on the back of her neck and Cleo hungrily takes this opportunity to deepen the kiss further, engulfing this taste of Pearl.

Strangely she tastes like hope, like forests in the dead of night, engulfed in the gentle caress of the wind. She tastes of freedom, of love; it’s addicting and they can’t help but miss the sensation of Pearl’s lips upon her own when they depart from their second kiss. Pearl’s warm breath still hot against her blood-less skin, those pale blue eyes slightly open as if she were awakening from a long night of the softest dreams.

It’s then that the reality comes crumbling down, they back away slowly, panic starting to consume them as the momentary pause gives back the despair of that ever persistent hunger. Desperate to claim Pearl fully.

“No.. no.” They mumble, Pearl watches them with such soft understanding eyes, “We can’t do this, you still have a life to live Pearl — I’m a vampire.”

“I’ve already said, Cleo, I don’t care whether you were Bigfoot himself, I love you. I care about you… but if you truly don’t want this I would never force it upon you.”

“No!” They startle themself with this, she wishes her organs still worked to push this chaotic energy into functioning their body rather than running off the flood of emotions from what they’ve just shared. “No, I want this, I want you. But Pearl, the hunger, it’s constant, I don’t trust myself to hold back, to not hurt you.”

“Then stop holding back.” Their eyes widen, following the movement of Pearl’s outstretched palm, reaching out in an offer for Cleo to clasp it with their own.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do. For you.”

“But-”

“I think you’re forgetting the part where I confessed my undying devotion for you,” Pearl says with a mischievous grin, “Have I not made myself clear enough?”

They groan, “Please refrain from saying stuff like that, I’ve just been forced to witness Avid and Pyro trailing Scott around like lovesick puppies all day.” Pearl’s grin only widens, their eyes can’t help but focus on the swollen rise of her lips. “No, you definitely made it clear but.. Pearl, are you sure?”

“Yes.” She responds fast, way too fast. “Yes, one hundred percent sure, the night won’t last forever.”

“I-” but their hand is willingly in Pearl’s and they’re being drawn back to the familiar walls of Oakhurst, the walk back being continuously interrupted by the pair of them peppering kisses onto the cheeks of one another.

They’re left to foolishly dream and hope while being pulled along by the other woman. Pathetic daydreams of being curled up in the pocket of Cleo’s dress or perching upside down from Pearl’s awaiting arm. Foolishly, they continue to hope, something they’d long since given up on, dreaming of sunflower crowns the pair of them could share, of nights curled in the others arms.

Pearl slips out of her grasp and walks ahead once they arrive by the gates, glancing around to check for any watchful eyes before pulling Cleo back into the shared walls of their own home, Oscar exactly where they left him, curled upon their bed.

The moment that door shuts, a gentle click, they are gifted the solitude no other environment could provide. Their own bubble is excluded from the wrath of the caste vampires, free from the prying eyes of other villagers.

The desire is overwhelming, the thought of possibly being allowed to drink from Pearl, to satiate their hunger unreachable. Yet their entire body yearns for the werewolf hunter like it depends on her for its function. “I.. don’t really know how this goes.” Pearl begins and they laugh.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes, please.” She flutters her eyelashes and Cleo gives in.

They push the woman against the wall, purring at the gasp of shock they draw from her. Gently they pepper kisses down the line of Pearl’s jaw tracing along the bare flesh of her neck before letting her fangs rest over the vein that slots perfectly under the stretch of skin that gracefully curves to meet her exposed collarbone. Pearl gasps and the noise is everything they’d ever wanted to hear.

They wait for Pearl’s final nod before they bite down, some instinct driving their actions, fangs indenting the perfect canvas Pearl is offering. The noise reciprocating the action fueling the power behind it, they allow the warmth to seep up through the puncture wounds, suckling at it like some pathetic starving animal.

Sausage was right, this was infinitely better — no offence to him.

That hope that they’d just grazed the taste of in that kiss is exemplified beyond possible comprehension, she cannot physically put into words the pure warmth and hope that pumps into Pearl’s blood. They consume it greedily, pushing the other woman further into the wall who in response tilts her head further upwards to give Cleo more room.

Their hunger is filled so eagerly, they lap at the drug with their tongue, exploring their addiction to what Pearl provides. Pearl in response pulls Cleo closer, her own body arching to collide with their warmth. “Cleo..” she whispers huskily, warmth flowing in her voice, Cleo begins to draw back and she hurries, “No, no, it’s okay. You can keep going.”

The vampire within her has completely consumed them, sinking deeper into those punctures and going high on blood that rewards them. Pearl starts to slip and they pull her upwards, allowing the last of the blood to drizzle out, kissing at the wound and cleaning up the remaining crimson.

Pearl’s repeatedly saying her name in a voice so quiet, so soft and so full of love. She presses her own, shaky kiss to the crown of Cleo’s forehead as the vampire continues to drain her of her blood.

This experience is something Cleo quite literally cannot put into words, they draw the essence of every last drop of Pearl’s blood that’s been offered from the puncture wounds, careful to not take enough as they feel the woman slumping further in their hold. Cautiously they continue to clean the wound, leaving two perfect puncture wounds, boldly displayed on Pearl’s pale skin.

The woman is pliant in her hold, head burrowing into the crook of Cleo’s own neck and drinking in the scent, “Was it enough?” She whispers and Cleo nods.

“More than.”

“Good.”

Pearl’s blood sits within them so unlike the chicken’s blood. It flows within their own veins as if this was its purpose, as if it hadn’t been drained from another life source. The monster in her stomach coils, fading in the afteraffects of the feeding; they find impossibly that for the first time in so long they don’t feel an ounce of hunger.

“I’m sorry, Pearl.” They murmur shushed by the other woman before they try again, “Thank you,” the impact of everything crashing down upon the pair and the lull of sleep all the more tempting, “I… I love you too.”

“Glad to get that one sorted.” Pearl grins into her skin, sighing softly. “I’m glad I could help with your ‘vampire-ness.’”

She lifts her head, eyes tired, kissing the underneath of Cleo’s jaw, possessively Cleo can’t help but focus on their mark they’ve just imprinted on the crook of Pearl’s neck.

She was hers, finally. After so long of waiting out wistful dreams and begging them to fall into the depths of their mind.

“Gosh I’m tired.”

“Sorry.”

“No, Cleo, no.” Even despite the fact it was well into the earlier hours of the morning, the sun well on its way to take over the moon’s shift within a few hours, Pearl’s eyes blaze with determination, “Cleo, you’re worth being loved. I’d let you drain me dry if it meant I could save you. What we did just now, I enjoyed it.”

“Did I mention that I loved you?”

“Once or twice, I wouldn’t mind hearing it a third or fourth though.” They roll their eyes but comply… just this once…

“Pearl I love you, now come on, I won’t force you to stand when you so clearly need sleep.” She gently draws her partner towards their shared bed, Oscar having moved to the end of the frame to allow them to fall onto it together, within the other's arms.

Cleo gently presses a kiss to Pearl’s forehead, “Thank you.” They whisper, “Goodnight.” And as Pearl mutters her own soft wishes of sweet dreams, light blue eyes fluttering closed, she vows that no matter what they will fight above all to protect this wonderful woman from the horrors of the world, to keep her safe forever.

Oscar moves further up, resting in the crook between their intertwined legs, his rumbles adding to the domestic peacefulness of the night and finally allowing Cleo to fall into that caring darkness.