Vampire! Prussia x Reader - Choices

“Taste me, drink my soul
Show me all the things that I shouldn't know
When there's a new moon on the rise
I had everything, opportunities for eternity
And I could belong to the night
Eyes, your eyes
I can see in your eyes” – Makes Me Wanna Die, The Pretty Reckless

[f/n] had been studying like crazy for the past few weeks. The girl was having some serious troubles to manage the constant jugglery that her life had become. Having to manage her studies, while working and keep having a social life or whatsoever was like playing a dangerous game of Malabar, whose pieces were set on fire. The wrong amount of force, or the right quantity of laziness on any of them and she’d get burnt, quite literally. Her mother had insisted for her not to overstrain herself, but she did have quite an opportunity working at that publishing house and she couldn’t ignore that.

Working while managing her college was a challenge and, like anything else in life, it had its pros and cons. The girl liked to have her own money (even if wasn’t all that much), and the sensation she was closer of making her dream come true. [f/n] dreamed of visiting other countries, discovering new places, so she’d have stories to tell others, trying for herself the wonders and mysteries she knew she’d find hiding on every branch and landscape. She wished to absorb with her eyes what her mind always told her that existed and tell others about it, so they’d see it too, even if it was by the images her descriptions would create. Yes, the girl dreamed of becoming a journalist.

So keeping her job was vital. Letting her grades go down wasn’t an option as well.

…That meant her social life suffered. A lot.

Even if the said publishing house wasn’t all that influent and most of her tasks consisted on getting a decent amount of caffeine flowing through the tired journalists’ veins and other odd jobs that involved a ridiculous amount of paper.  [f/n] doubted that she should stay that long at a copy machine. E-mail, guys. And Facebook. Those things had already been invented and should be put on use. Still, it was a valid experience, or she told herself so. But the girl was sure she wouldn’t miss all the paperwork once it was over.

That morning, however, started differently.

Her boss called her to his office. Mark Johnson was a round little man, far more interested on the leftovers of the pizza she could see laying over the greasy surface that was his wooden table than to actually get some work done. Most of the times, though, he kept nagging back and forth about a Pulitzer he should have won with a story about the economic implications of the aborigine art over the traffic of weapons inside the South America.

Every time he mentioned she felt like the greatest actress ever born, because that for itself sounded so absurd that all logic failed to give her a decent explanation to that mess. Still, she always managed to keep a straight face almost every time. If she transformed a giggle or two into a cough, who could blame her?  Some days she questioned Johnson’s mental stability, but she always stopped herself before giving up and calling a mental facility. Sane or not, he was her boss.

The man cleaned the sweat away from his forehead with a forgotten tissue he had found among the papers he had in front of him (how did that get there, anyway?). She honestly wondered who else but he would feel hot with the coolness of a perfect autumn morning. Judging by that, he’d have a heart attack one of these days. Or a seizure. Maybe she should cut off the sugar he put on his coffee. Or the coffee itself.

After carefully rubbing the dirty handkerchief on each and every pore of his face, the middle aged man looked at her with his permanently watery brown eyes. He light up a half smoked cigarette, blowing the smelly smoke into the stuffed environment. [f/n] contained the primal impulse to cough, stiffening her lips on a thin line.

“[l/n].” He said, calling her lazily, but she still straightened her back as if she had received an electric shock directly on her spine. Something was wrong on the way he said her name. She started to brace herself to the worst. “I’ve seen some of the corrections you’ve been making on Wood’s reports.”

Oh, fu…

A chill ran through her body, not even letting her complete her thought.

Lately, she had been taken the liberty of adding and taking a few repetitions on some of the reports from one of the columnists. He wasn’t a good writer but he wasn’t bad either, Wood was an average journalist, so she thought that her small alterations would pass by unnoticed. True, his stories had become much more interesting, so he was getting more attention. But not even once he complained about her interferences. The girl tried as a form of test, so her writing could improve, and he wasn’t opposed to it, apparently.

Until now.

Mr. Johnson noticed. She contained the impulse to curse out loud. Well, now that the cat was out of the bag, there wasn’t anything else she could do. [f/n] would probably be fired, with no recommendations, and a big lecture about keeping her hands to herself. Damn.

Her boss watched her reactions attentively before continuing.

“And you actually made the idiot look like he had some brain left inside that thick skull.” Johnson continued and she blinked, taking a while to understand what was going on. She wasn’t fired for that? [f/n] was actually being praised?

But before she could say something, thank him at least, he was talking again.

“So I decided” He made a pause and she was holding her breath again. “that I would give you a chance so you can tell me a fact with your own words, and not play knitting with other’s ideas.”

Wait, what?

Her mouth gapped in pure surprise, but she quickly closed it.

Mr. Johnson was giving her a chance?

She could finally show her abilities?

“Really?” Her voice came up as a small squeak and the man gave her a large smile.

“Yes, I want to see what you’re capable of.” He took another drag of his cigarette, but at the moment she couldn’t care less about her hair become stinking later on, just how happy she was.

The man got up from his chair, rummaging through some old boxes and files, before pulling some papers and pictures, handing them over to [f/n]. She contained the impulse to sneeze, since there was so much dust around her.

“There are some people, most of them teenagers, that are making quite a ruckus lately. They’re making some gathering these days. Loud music, lots of alcohol, possibly some drugs, the normal things expected from these youngsters that frequent college.” Johnson dispensed with a loose hand gesture the frown that formed spontaneously on her face, joining her brows together.

“Don’t give me that look. You’re the exception, not the other way around. Still,” He sat down on his chair again. “there are some weird rumors surrounding them. They all go out dressed in black, a gothic movement of some sort, and claim that they’re vampires.”

He shrugged.

“That would be okay, I mean, it’s not the first time that you kids go crazy in one of these delusional fashions and all that jazz.”

He made a small pause, lighting up another cigarette while he dispensed the ashes of the previous from his fingers. The skin on his hands was yellow, stained with the nicotine. [f/n] felt that something was off on that story. Why would he even bother to describe that type of situation if he considered so common? The newspapers all around complained often about the youth of these days, the over abuse of alcohol and other factors. If he wanted her to make a common report, why he’d have all the trouble to present the situation? She could most likely do fine by herself with it. Unless… There was something else. So she made the obvious (and probably expected) question.

“But?” The small word lingered on the oversaturated environment, like the slightly bluish smoke her boss blew into the air.

He smirked at her, a glint of amusement swirling inside his eyes, as if he was waiting for her intervention.

“That interested already? Wait until you hear the rest.” Johnson gave a small chuckle, resuming his story. “So, they could go around drinking Kool-Aid and wearing capes or whatever pleased their little hearts and we wouldn’t have cared about it. But… Some of the pups disappeared. The ones that came back are interned on the local hospital, with severe blood loss. And one of them, a girl called Lucy, is dead.”

He absentmindedly scratched his beard.

“The police are in frenzy and the parents aren’t all that happy either. But the kids keep going and the kidnappings keep occurring. One of them decided to grow fangs, apparently.”

[f/n] felt her eyes widening. That was big. Enormous. That could be the kick-start of her career.

“And you’re giving this story to me?” She sounded incredulous and she actually was. It was too much for someone who had only fixed a few reports. But, beneath the excitement she could feel a chill spreading through her bones, a strange sensation crawling on her stomach and telling her that she shouldn’t accept it. However, the girl shrugged it off, interpreting as simple anxiety due to her first actual job.

Johnson nodded casually.

“You should infiltrate among the kids, so you’ll get the facts first hand. Just be careful there.” He sounded like a father for a second, caring and worried, seeming wary to let her go. She also sensed that maybe it wasn’t something that she should do, an ominous feeling hovering over her. The sensation vanished just as quickly as it came, though, and her boss turned his gaze away from her.

Johnson didn’t avert his eyes from his paperwork anymore, so she considered the interview over. She left the room, closing the door before leaning on the wooden surface, sliding down, since her legs seemed to have turned into jelly.

There it was.

Her first chance.

She was so happy that the immensity of the realization didn’t hit her fully. Like it had happened to another [f/n], and not to her. It was too good to be true. The smile crawling over her cheeks was so big that it threatened to split her face in two. Not that she would have noticed at that moment. However, she was slightly scared about what she was going to face. Still…

“I did it.” She murmured.

Her fingers were tingling and her mind was spinning.

“I did it.” She repeated a little louder.

Finally, she was panting, wide eyed and thrilled.

“I did it!” She squeaked and her colleagues looked at her, some angry, others startled at the sudden statement. The girl wanted to open a hole on the ground and bury herself inside of it from shame. She felt a nice red shade taking over her cheeks the longer they stared at her, searching for a cause of the noise.

“Sorry.” She mumbled, embarrassed and they returned to their routines.

Stopping herself from laughing maniacally, [f/n] stood up, patting herself so she would take out the dust out of her jeans. She sighed, passing a hand through her hair with a hopeless smile.

Boy, she had things to do.

(Time Skip)

Well, if there was anything to report about that party/gathering/whatever you wish to name that mess, she’d say it was loud. The music pulsed, as an entity of its own, around the moving bodies, encircling them with a spell consisted of reverberations. Beat and tempo, rhythm and compass, none of that seemed to matter on that electronic chaos, mixing itself with the cacophony of voices, laugher, shouts and other sounds that were half drowned by that pandemonium of swaying figures.

The girl felt that she could hardly deal with the vibrations that surrounded her, penetrating her brain and confusing her ideas. Her eardrums were throbbing and there was hardly any time that she was actually there. How could anyone bear that for more than a few seconds? She certainly was having a lot of troubles to do so. [f/n] was counting the seconds until her ears started to bleed and she went mad with the noise.

And the smell.

The mixed scent of alcohol and sweat, pot and urine, perfume and a metallic presence that he couldn’t quite put her finger over. But it was awfully similar to blood, she thought while shuddering. It inundated her nostrils, spiraling inside her lungs along with the smoke from the dry ice, thick and heavy, making her cough.

Still, everything she had seen so far, even if it was traumatic and she was probably scarred for the rest of her life, was the ‘normal’ and expected things to find on a party. Yes, they were wearing black. Sure, they talked weirdly and looked like they were high on something. But that should be the things one would expect to encounter in any of those occasions.

No kidnappings, fangs sticking out or anything of the sort so far, unfortunately.

She was leaning against a corner, observing the dancing people and the pulsing lights. The drink in her hand had long gone grew warm for the heat of her skin, since she had just held it after she had bought it; far too busy observing the teenagers to care for the cheap liquor.

That’s when she felt it.

An unknown, strange sensation grew from the base of her neck, spreading through her skin and spine. A chill, contorting her insides in anxiety, roamed through her body, tensing all her muscles in something that she could only interpret as fear. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, hastened in its abnormal despair. Her breathing accelerated and her pupils grew, on a response that she only heard about in school, or nature’s documentaries.

Fight or flight.

The predator and prey reaction, ready to chase, enter a battle or flee.

But what was chasing her?

Or who?

And, more importantly, what was she in that game?

She shivered again, nearly hugging herself, when a faint whisper on her thoughts, answered her prey, followed by a low chuckle, as if whoever it was could see her responses. She swallowed, even if there wasn’t anything on her dry mouth, the bitter taste of fear playing at the back of her tongue.

“Hello, frau.” A voice near her said. It was nothing more than a quiet murmur, a baritone hum that should pass by unnoticed at the loud cacophony around them. Yet, on a screaming contradiction, the timbre of his vocal chords resounded, crystal clear, against her ears. It was… Magnetic. Her neck stiffened and she could feel her vertebras, one by one, turning towards the sound as if obeying an unspoken command.

[f/n] turned her head, only to meet a man right next to her, so close that she was scared with the proximity. But at the same time, there was something in her deeply pleased with it and the wishes, blaring for her to run and shouting for her to stay, froze her into the same position.

He was taller than her, and his features were at the same time out of place and totally blended with the environment. His white hair reflected the lights strangely. Green, blue, red, or a blinding white, frozen locks of snow falling wildly and framing his pale face. His scarlet mocking eyes stared into hers, examining her, as if searching for something in the depths of her mind. The girl felt disturbingly exposed as he smirked, to assure her that, yes, he had found it.

The action exposed his teeth, shining under the confuse illumination, threatening and sharp. She shrugged in discomfort, but at the same time fascinated by it. Again, the conflict was paralyzing.

He was a strange presence there, because he exhaled an ancient air, something far older and more profound that the mess of dancing adolescents, clashing into each other with the fury and the naivety of their youth. It was primal, an elder, though she couldn’t explain why. Yet, there was an unfathomable sense of belonging, that very same characteristic made him so fitting, somehow. He was the embodiment of the night, forever present and yet always new, child of itself.

He was the one they were searching for.

That man was a vampire.

Nonsense. The girl argued with her senses. Vampires don’t exist. The music is messing with your brain. [f/n] told herself, trying to find some logic on that. But that raging awareness didn’t quiet down, demanding her attention, yelling her to disappear from his sight. However, once his eyes locked with her own, she doubted that she could fulfill that, since her legs were now made of stone.

“Hello.” She finally made herself answer him, remembering how to speak, even if it was a quiet murmur. But there was little chances that he would actually hear her if she didn’t scream it to him, since there was so much noise and-

“What a diurnal flower, with the scent of the sun printed so well onto her skin, is doing here, among bats and zombies? Shouldn’t it be playing on the wind?” He questioned, his voice so low, like a growl or a purr, somehow animal like, but covered with a coat of amusement to contain the primitive appeal it gave off.  

His words sounded like a simple riddle more than a comparison, with an obvious meaning lying just beneath the thin surface of his speech. But she was too distracted by the movement of his lips, seductive by the very action of speaking. They weaved the words around the entrancing sounds that left his throat, filled with a Germanic accent, so she could hardly pay attention to what he said. His fingers, long and icy, tilted her chin up, making their irises to exchange glances for a third time that night.

The girl looked into his crimson orbs, confused for what he had said; too fascinated by the color in front of her to gather her shreds of thoughts could tell her. The desire to flee was also there, but now muffled by the fog that was slowly taking over her mind. Still, she forced her mouth to work, taking an enormous effort of her.

“Z-zombies and bats?” She asked, feeling dizzy and unsure, waiting for him to assure her and make that smile on her face grow once more. When did she start smiling at him?

He chuckled, the low rumble shaking his chest, reverberating on her ears. He was so close to her now that she feared that their flesh would merge into one.

“What other children the night has?” He questioned, as if he was diverted with her inquiring, just as evident as it was. But not to her. The man nibbled on her earlobe, his cold breath caressing her skin, making it shiver vulnerably. Her head started to spin, since the air was coming in and out of her burning lungs too fast to allow her a proper breathing.

What was happening?

“Children?” Her thoughts were slow and her voice was slurred, painfully so, as if she was as drunk as the other people there. But even for her lethargic mind something wasn’t quite right on that situation. Still, those demonic eyes of his involved her once more, to the point she was just blankly staring at them.

“Won’t you join us?” His hands crept on her waist, pulling her torso against his, his fingers prying over the smooth fabric of her clothing, feeling the curves beneath it. But there wasn’t a single piece of will inside of her to push him away, the want to escape his grasp long drowned inside that bloody, sensual gaze he had.  “Will you abandon your petals?”

It was yet another enigma that he offered to her on a silver plate. The puzzle seemed terribly important and easy, as if her life depended of her response, so she forced her tongue to function once again.

“A-as a bat? Or a zombie?”

He chuckled softly again and she could feel the vibrations, echoing the pulsing of the hypnotic music around them. Her knees were becoming weak and she found herself leaning against his grasp, the strong arms that encircled her and its tight embrace.

“Do you want to find out?” He murmured against her clavicle.

It was all too much and she didn’t know what she should do, but the girl found herself nodding weakly.

The sound of his approving laugher was the last thing she head before feeling his teeth.

Darkness took over her view.