Supernatural Oneshots

Never Get Caught (Vampire!Reader)

Random Fanfiction, not a pairing with anyone off Supernatural. 

Vampire!Reader

You don't remember who you are, or how you became what you are.

What were you anyway? 

The first thing you ever remembered was a desire, one that burned through your body, tearing away at your very existence. What is this desire? The raw desire to kill; to feel the life fade from your prey as you drain the crimson fluid that runs rampant in their veins. Blood is your life; your whole world is centered around it.

Always on your own, never settling, always running from your own food source, the ones that show up with the bad blood and try to kill you. Flight or Fight, the natural instinct, but you kill when angered, and humans that try to harm her deserve Death as much as her food does. Fighting the poor things is always successful, but you soon have to leave the town, a trail of empty husks of humans and blood in your wake.

In a eat or be killed world, you were constantly at battle with yourself and others, but one particular hunt was different from the others.

It began with a strip club, you were comfortably settled in to obtain a part-time job as a stripper, but not settled down so much that it was a struggle to suddenly have to leave. After a normal shift, you felt the familiar burn of hunger settle in your stomach. You fought it off as long as you could, but a young couple decided to take a 2 A.M. stroll. The seemed fit, with one sniff, you could already taste their warm blood trailing down your throat. They would be difficult to silence quickly, but what could you say? You loved getting fast food, it makes a lovely hunt when the prey puts up a good fight.

Taking off after them, you hide in the shadows, creeping up on them like a twisted version of cat and mouse. As soon as the bleach-blonde woman turned around, her husband crumpled to the ground, his neck snapped by your delicate fingers. Blonde twisted around, screaming in horror as she saw her dead mate.

Rolling your eyes, you twist her neck also, making sure Marilyn wouldn't call any unwanted attention on you. Can't have any interruptions during feeding, or you will be furious. Pulling your (h/c) to the side, you scan the deserted street for any witnesses, before dragging the bodies into the alleyway where she would eat her breakfast. Pulling the man behind a soiled dumpster, you quickly began to feast on him, for the blood was beginning to sour, and drained him in seconds. Blonde was a bit cold by the time you began your feeding on her pale skin, which meant you needed to hurry. 

As if to loathe you, the sun was beginning to show it's hideous face over the purple clouds. You quickly darted home after finishing the girl, just as sunlight began to stream through the clouds. You licked your lip, drop of blood having spilled on you during your meal. The streets were already crowded, as you smiled; you wouldn't have to feed for a while.

Two weeks and a dozen bodies later, you were interviewed by two Feds, one lanky man with a mane of hair, and another that had piercing emerald eyes, plus a snarky attitude toward strippers. Keeping your cool, you answered questions like a normal stripper would. The lanky one smelled wrong, like he was sour, almost like out cottage cheese left out in the sun.

They talked to the manager, a son-of-a-bitch if you had ever met one, and he pointed in the direction of you. You just needed to play it cool; don't look suspicious.

The Feds seemed so out of place, here they were surrounded by sexy women, revealing skirts and shirts, plus add in some heels, glitter and some misplaced sequins. As the Feds passed some girls, they hiked their skirts even higher, or their shirts even lower, trying to get some Bozo in a suit to stare at them.