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mellowwillowy · 1 year ago

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Being a livestock for a vampire has never sounded good until you were kidnapped by a vampire as his spouse.

TW: Yandere, NSFW, SH, and massacre

The vampire was intrigued by the puny human he ran into when he was walking around the river in the morning, testing his new potion and spell that would keep him immune to sunlight.

What was once a plan to kidnap you as one of his livestock turned into a moment where you had to nurse him because he suddenly dropped his whole weight onto you, face blistered from the sunlight.

“You are awake now.”

Your voice stirred him awake more than ever. His once droopy eyes were wide opened in shock. He didn't remember having anyone in his manor.

Your eyes were locked with his Emerald ones and he defensively squinted his eyes. You raised both of your hands, “You passed out right behind me and I had to drag you all the way from the riverbank to my cottage.”

The curtain was drawn close suspiciously, not allowing any light to filter inside the bedroom. Did you know he was a vampire already?

“Was it an allergic reaction?”

“Huh?” he asked, baffled.

“Your face was blistered because it was the only part of you that was exposed. Nonetheless, you healed really fast so there was no need for any extensive care from my herbs. You were only out for a day.”

He started to feel his face, aside from patches here and there, there was nothing wrong with it.

“Ah yes, let me get the hand mirror for you—”

Just before you could stand up, his hand grabbed yours and held you on the spot immediately. If you were to realize he had no reflection.

“Can you help me stand and get me to the kitchen instead? I'm quite thirsty since I haven't drunk in a day.”

You stared at his eyes and glanced at his pale hand. It took you seconds before you agreed to him and supported him by slinging his arm over your shoulder and walked toward the kitchen downstairs.

His eyes scanned through your cottage, it was mainly dominated by white, ornaments, furniture, trinkets, and even flowers.

“You must have really loved white, considering even having flowers that can't grow in this land.” Yulian glanced at the potted flowers. Lilies of the Valley, daisies, baby’s breath, and lilies.

At that, you only hummed and sat him down on one of the chairs. You placed a cup of water for him and returned to the sink to prepare him what he assumed to be breakfast, judging from how bright it was outside the window.

Mindlessly staring into the window, he accidentally hissed from the sunlight reaching his bare-handed hand, alerting you of his discomfort.

“Oh dear, what happened?”

Yulian flinched at the endearment term you spoke before he regained his composure.

“Nothing, I just accidentally bit my tongue.” he lied as he tried to cover his blistered hand. You nodded and turned your focus back to the breakfast you were preparing.

“Are you allergic to dairies?” you asked him. “No.”

“Thought you were one unlucky man, it seems like you are not immune to light or something like an albino. I'm assuming Your skin is very sensitive to light since you were so covered.”

He only mumbled a few incoherent words before you snapped him out of his trance with a clap of your hands, “So what's your name dear?”

“Alan-” instinctively, the man shut his mouth and took a few seconds of silence before answering you.

“Yulian. My name is Yulian.” “Nice to meet you,” you served him a plate of sandwiches, “I’m the local physician here, you’ll be staying here with me for rehabilitation.”

Yulian raised both of his eyebrows, “But I am not wounded terribly in any way.” “Perhaps not, but this is how I work. Could it be that you are not a local?”

Yulian shook his head.

“Where’s your house? Do you need to go back home to your family immediately? I can stay in your place for a few days to make sure there are no more anomalies.”

Yulian frowned, what a persistent human. It was almost annoying, breaching people’s boundaries just to sate their own curiosities. He could read you that much.

But he agreed to stay in your cottage nonetheless.

𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆.

But you had always been attentive, drawing the curtain for him when he walked out of his bedroom. Offering to hold the umbrella for him when he wanted to walk.

What was once a plain bedroom was slowly adorned by flowers, mainly baby’s breath.

The food you made or bought was also not bad. They were decent for a human but not a vampire. Sometimes he had to mask his distaste to any food that consisted of onions.

It was not easy to sneak out of the cottage since you were sometimes awake and roamed around the cottage.

But it was a rather peaceful life. There was bustling sounds and noises from the cottage, unlike his dead and dark manor.

It was bright in your cottage but it didn't hurt him in the slightest bit. Was it because it was a ‘White House’?

𝑯𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔.

If there was something he disliked from you then it had to be your silver ring. Whenever you touched him with your hand ring, you would sometimes graze his skin with your ring.

He tried not to hiss but there were occasions when it was unbearable, just like when you were compressing him and felt his temperature.

Unlike in a few cases where he could hide his blisters, it was visible that his forehead was bleeding from the contact.

It was alarming for both of you, paranoia and fear downed him as he suspected you were testing him while shock and suspicion flashed onto your face.

There was a rift but Yulian was a great reader, he knew you did not mean anything bad and decided to lie his way out again. Alas, it's harder this time.

Another thing he didn't like about you was how you could be ignoring him for a whole day sometimes. It could be something interesting that got your whole attention or another patient coming.

Perhaps he was simply unamused by the idea of a lesser being taking away your attention from him.

𝑬𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒔.

You often strolled around the riverbank and forest, collecting herbs and wildflowers, sometimes walking down toward the village to buy daily necessities.

You didn't allow him to follow you at first, making him have to secretly follow you out of boredom and partial curiosity.

But upon week later, Yulian started to show you his interest in going out with you. It took him lots of convincing that he wouldn't fall sick from this and you reluctantly agreed to it.

For the first time, he could finally walk side by side with you instead of following you from the dark. It almost felt like his still heart was beating from excitement.

Apparently, all the villagers recognized you as a talented physician. They were all friendly to you and would do anything to help you as well.

It made something within him sting. Was it envy that he wasn't treated just as nice?

𝑽𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚’𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉.

Sometimes the two of you would sing under the moonlight as a pastime. Sometimes you would come to his bedroom at night and converse with him until he pretended to fall asleep.

Sometimes you would diagnose him. Sometimes you would tell him stories of your life. Sometimes you would ask him questions about his life. Sometimes you would cry in your bedroom.

He couldn't help but wonder what sorrowed your frail heart.

Sometimes he would enter your bedroom and observe your patterned breathing while you were asleep. It was almost as if the role was reversed. He was observing you out of curiosity and perhaps, adoration.

A human’s lifespan is as short as a stick. Not only couldn't they live long, but they were also vulnerable to almost everything.

Yulian brought his hand to cup your cheek, squeezing it just a bit before his fingers traced down toward your neck, feeling your jugular vein pulsating in rhythm with your heart. You were alive but he wasn't. You were loved but he wasn't. You were adored but he wasn't.

Was it envy that brought his fangs close to your neck? Was he envious of your life? Or was he simply being unreasonable? You stirred awake from your sleep, eyes adjusting to the moonlight that lit your bedroom. No one was in sight and the water you placed on your nightstand remained warm despite the chilling temperature.

Perhaps the envy in him was never directed at you.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒚𝒆𝒕 𝒑𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒗𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒚.

The only reason why Yulian was still resting in your cottage was because of his self-sabotaging. You were a physician and he was a patient, unless he had a logical reason to stay in your cottage then he had to excuse himself.

It started with how Yulian started to fake food poisoning, burn himself from the sunlight, fake an anemic, and wound himself with the silver ornaments you had in the cottage.

But Yulian understood it was only a matter of time before your dense self realized that something was wrong and chased him out of your cottage.

Would you scream at him in fury, fear, or disappointment? He thought he was used to rejection already but something changed within him with the time spent living with you.

And he didn't want to betray your trust. You trusted him with your little secret. The secret that you were actually the village's 'Witch'.

Yulian sighed audibly as he walked toward your bedroom, observing it from corner to corner for any anomalies. It had always been a paranoid habit of his. He wanted to make sure nothing dangerous was inside your bedroom or, to be frank, your surroundings.

Yulian walked toward your dressing table and gazed into the mirror. There was not a single reflection of himself, a reminder that he was never supposed to let you live in the first place.

Yet your touch never failed to soothe his stoned heart, it never failed to make him melt under your touch. And your existence did not hunger him in any way unlike the others would.

He had learned to co-exist with you before he realized it, it was too late for him to undo this dependence and bond, let alone feed on you.

Yulian walked out and waited for you to come back from your visit to the local church. As much as he wanted to join you, he couldn't risk getting caught by them.

Hours passed and the sun sank, the moon lit the dark sky and yet not even a single sound of your footsteps approaching the cottage was heard. Yulian dissipated into thin air and teleported to where you were supposed to be but you were nowhere in sight.

The church was eerily silent to human ears but not to an otherworldly being like him. He could hear an ominous chant beneath him. He could smell the sickeningly sweet incense lit beneath him. And he could feel the mark he left on your neck that night beneath him.

The 'Witch' play ends tonight.

You woke up in someone's embrace, the night was lit by the moonlight above you yet there was an unbearable heat nearby.

"You are awake now."

His voice stirred you awake more than ever. Your once droopy eyes were wide opened in shock. You didn't remember seeing him.

Your eyes were locked with his Emerald ones and you stared at his eyes. He smiled at you, “You passed out amidst the fire and I had to carry you all the way from the village.”

You looked behind his back and saw a huge fire consume the village, the villagers' cries were audible despite the distance. You clutched his black robe, "Wait, no! The villagers, they need me! I need to save them!"

"May I know why?" "Because I'm a Witch, the protector of this village!"

Yulian chortled at your remarks before he smirked, "And yet you let an outsider reside in your cottage for months."

All colors were drained from your face, and your heart sank down; "What do you mean?"

Yulian sat you down on one of the rocks and knelt in front of you, his gloved hand brought your hand ring, "Observe this."

He took off his glove and pressed your ring finger to his palm, the skin blistered from the contact and you instinctively pulled away, "What was that?!"

There was a tale of vampires and you wished he would deny it.

"It was troublesome for me having to avoid the mirrors in your cottage and anything that would reflect." Hand mirror.

"I never really like the dishes you made with onions but I stomach it all because I just couldn't muster the courage to see your sullen face," Onions.

"I really hate strolling when the sun is still up because I have to carry an umbrella with me all the time." Sun.

"Though I must say I don't mind being touched by you with your ring hand because it was worth the pain and trouble." Silver.

You backed away from him and just before your back could hit the grassy ground, his arm prevented you from tumbling back, "And I must say, it took me lots of time to properly mark and make you submit to a contract with me."

Contract?

Yulian cradled your confused body into his chest, the warmth you felt was not emitted from his skin but instead, the fire that devoured all the villagers who had been deceiving you.

All of the shock that weighed upon made you succumb to unconsciousness again, mainly from stress and trauma. Yulian frowned at your limp figure as he stood up and continued walking deep into the forest to his manor.

𝑳𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕-𝒄𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒚, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 '𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝑯𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆' 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒓𝒖𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒆 𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒕.

Yulian did not like the hostility that you showed him at all. The ongoing stress and trauma drowned you in the hysteria that would also make you harm yourself. It pained him that he was one of the causes of your hysteria, a hypothetical scenario would sometimes flash across his mind. What if he had not appeared in your life? Then perhaps your heart wouldn't sorrow to this extent.

Yulian tried his best to help you adapt. The once dark and grim manor slowly turned white. The exteriors and interiors were white before you could remember how it originally looked like. Flowers were blooming in the garden to your liking and a potted white flowers near you for you to adore.

While Yulian had the patience to make you warm up to him and face the reality of your life, he did not have the heart to see you suffer for so long. And as much as he wanted to change you into a vampire just like him, he'd rather not have it done unwillingly.

But time was not so kind for your age. The longer he delayed it, the older and frailer you would be.

Alas, luck was on his side when he secluded himself in his room for a long time for the first time you came here. He didn't expect you to find his presence soothing for you.

It appeared that all his efforts had made you think that his action of kidnapping you was just an attempt to save you from the villagers who tricked you into thinking that you were a 'Witch'.

You looked for him, calmly at first then frantically when you suffered from a panic attack. He didn't mean to test you but he knew well deep inside he was hurting you.

Even for a selfish and cold-blooded creature like him, he had to steel his heart before he could see you again. Everything he was feeling after he met you was his first. You brought colors to his monochrome life. You taught him that the smell of a morning was calming. You taught him how to spend his time with pastimes.

He could not find it in his heart to leave your side. It was his first time to feel alive and he was greedy, wanting more of it.

You stood in front of his chamber, waiting for him to open his door instead of avoiding you altogether.

"The servants took great care of you while I was away right, dear?"

Yulian never found the charm in terms of endearment, but whenever you called him 'dear', incomprehensible emotion and feeling surged into him. He still remembered the day you first called him that, it was foreign and weird to him but he didn't find it that bad at all.

You squirmed under his touch, squeezing yourself closer and deeper into his embrace while your hands clenched on the bedsheet. That was not the only thing you were clenching though, for his fingers were knuckle deep inside you.

You tried to form a coherent answer but what came out was simply a blubbering. Tears dripped down from your cheek from the way he curled his fingers, feeling your spot until your toes were curled.

You didn't know that even vampires could feel this much stimulation from sex. You assumed they just reproduced while feeling only half of the pleasure humans could have because of how cold-blooded they were.

You thought they only did it out of curiosity or memories of their past lives, or perhaps from the mood itself instead of doing it for pleasure as well.

Yulian brought his lip to yours, nibbling your lower lip why urging you to open your mouth, allowing his tongue to roam inside you while his fingers did not stop even one bit, drawing multiple orgasms out of you.

You really loved every bit of the man who once tried to kill you. The way his soft fangs felt your skin, pricking it playfully instead of sinking it deep inside your jugular vein and killing you on the spot.

You loved it when he caressed your cheek, you loved how gentle he was when he wiped the tears from your eyelashes.

You loved it when he was inside of you, you loved it when he knew every inch of your body so well to the point he could make you cry out of pleasure effortlessly.

You loved to see his cute face from how fast he came inside you but he never stopped his hip. You loved it when he kissed your face. You loved it when he intertwined both of your hands.

You loved it when he made your insides feel warm and full.

You loved him for severing the illusion of the 'Witch' inside of you. It was undeniable that Yuliad had saved you from the villagers' torturing you for accepting an outsider into your cottage for the first time.

You were simply curious of his condition and yet you were punished terribly for not keeping the said tradition. Yulian knew there was never a tradition, it simply was a doctrine for you who was a prodigy of a physician to save everyone from your village.

You were exiled deep in the forest so that you couldn't learn the life beyond the forest and village.

Yulian knew just as much when he first joined you on your stroll to the village. Everyone treated you differently as though you were a deity and you considered it to be something normal.

It looked normal to him considering they believed in the 'Witch' but Yulian knew better. You were just a human and all of these were just a doctrine from the church. To ensure the prodigy never left the village and was forever loyal to the church.

Spies were sent and he knew the church had probably noticed him as not only a weird outsider but also a vampire. It was unfortunate of you to be dragged into the church's underground and interrogated, forced to drag him to the church and had him staked to death. But you were persistent, you didn't trust them.

Just before Yulian was about to save you, you made a grave mistake of swearing on your name to make a promise with the devil to save you and your companion which was him. He knew you had always been so kind but wasn't that sort of naivety a little bit too much for a stranger like him? Perhaps this was the reason why the church wanted to force a much stronger doctrine onto you.

Their mistake was to not sense the danger that was him earlier. Your flaw was that you were too kind-hearted.

It gave him more reasons to seclude you from the world beyond the White House. His paranoia and obsession growing stronger with each day never seemed to unnerve you who were just a bright soul with a kind heart. A kind heart that was a contrast to his stoned heart.

That alone justified his paranoia of losing you. Surely you understood him right?

Author's Note: Thank you for reading this half-hearted work, I was so motivated to write a damn vampire fic but got writer's block mid-way smh. Happy 7th Anniversary to LIfE Project and 5k to this blog!

#Yulian the Corruption #Yandere x Reader #x GN Reader #Yandere Smut #Yandere Vampire #LIfE Project 5k Celebration #Behold #As promised; Yulian as a vampire #LIfE Project

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aetherraeys · 4 months ago

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bloodmoon pt2

(part 1)

remus lupid x vampire!reader ⊹ 11.9k

cw ⟢ swearing, harrassment, men being vile, blood, detailed description of pain, friends to lovers, slowish burn, biting, suggestive at the end

a/n: not proofread x SORRY THIS ACTUALLY TOOK DAYS IVE BEEN TRYING TO MAKE IT LESS THAT 12WC!! i hope you enjoy ,,, slightly obsessed with vampire!reader now.

“Finally realised she’s not the devil incarnate, have you, Moony?”

Its as though Sirius just physically couldn’t stop himself, everyone else had been ignoring it for weeks—the skeptically raised eyebrows changing into almost knowing looks. They’d all been silently watching.

Him and you, you and him.

How essentially overnight, Remus had become one of the people he used to openly scoff at, roll his eyes as if they’d fallen into some sort of trap that was only obvious to him. To his friends shock and relief, their dear old Moony, was not as immune to you as he’d made out to be.

Now, if anything, it seemed that he was more affected than anyone else, walking you from the slytherin common room, to the great hall, and back again—visiting you multiple times a day when you were working in the hospital wing. The complete 180 in the way he reacts to you, a sigh of relief when he sees you enter the room, rather than the erking gut reaction he had before.

And even as discrete as Remus has tried to be, he was unable to escape Lily’s watchful eye—having caught glimpses of a few Bloodsuckers rolling a round in the bottom of his bag.

It literally wasn’t even as secret as this point.

But, apparently unbeknownst to Sirius and Sirius alone, there had been an unspoken agreement: do not acknowledge it. Which explained why, the moment the words left his mouth, the entire table fell into a stunned silence.

A silence Sirius was still exactly one beat behind.

The ghost of a smirk still playing on his lips, Sirius barely had time to register James’ foot swinging under the table before—

“Ow! Bloody—fuck—” He doubled over, forehead colliding with the hard wood of the table.

By the time he pried his eyes open from the sharp sting of pain, everyone was staring at him with identical looks of disbelief, as if he were the idiot in the situation.

Raising his hands in surrender, he huffed, utterly perplexed by the turn of events.

“What?! So we’re all just supposed to act like it’s normal that one minute he hates her and the next he’s so far up her arse he could whisper in her ear?!”

At the very least, Sirius expected someone to back him up. James, maybe, because he was always on about Remus being a hypocrite. Or Marlene , who at least had the good sense to find humor in all of this.

But no.

Instead, James pinched the bridge of his nose like he was battling a migraine, Marlene muttered something that sounded suspiciously like for Merlin’s sake, Black, and Lily was just avoiding eye contact altogether, suddenly very interested in buttering her toast.

And Remus—Remus just sighed. That slow, patient sigh that meant he was this close to losing his temper, but he was doing that thing where he convinced himself he was above it.

“Pads,” he said, voice clipped, “I swear to God—”

“No, no, sorry,” Sirius cut in, straightening up despite the throbbing ache in his shin. “Am I the only one who remembers how you used to look at her like she’d burst into flames if you kept staring? How you’d turn green when she walked in the room?”

Across from him, James let out a sharp, incredulous breath. “Are you actually daft?”

Sirius just ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

He looked to Lily, hoping for a shred of backup, but the traitor was still focused on her toast. He turned to Marlene, but she just gave him a wide-eyed look that screamed drop it, Black.

He turned back to Remus, who was now very pointedly stirring his tea, as though pretending he wasn’t the center of attention would make Sirius forget the absolute insanity happening right in front of him.

“I hated her?” Remus repeated blandly, finally looking up. “That’s a bit dramatic.”

Sirius let out a laugh. Loud, disbelieving, scandalized.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he mocked. “What would you call it, then? Casual disdain? Deep-rooted, undiagnosed allergic reaction? Because I distinctly remember you not being able to stand within a three-foot radius of her without looking like you were about to be sick.”

At that, Remus’ jaw ticked. It was barely there, the kind of reaction only someone who knew him well would notice. But Sirius did notice, and so did James, and it was definitely why James suddenly went stiff beside him.

A beat of silence.

Before he could go off—before the tightness in his jaw and the twitch in his fingers could escalate into something actual. Just as the inevitable explosion was about to happen, Sirius bracing himself for the verbal annihilation that was surely coming—there was a sudden shift in the room.

You walked into the Great Hall, oblivious to the absolute war zone you were unknowingly interrupting.

Just barely brushing past him as you made your way to your seat, as always, Pandora on one arm, lolly in your mouth—as normal as ever.

It was nothing. Just a fleeting moment. The soft whoosh of your robes as you passed behind Remus, your fingers lightly skimming the back of his chair in a casual, absentminded way. Barely even a touch.

But it was immediate.

Remus’ shoulders relaxed. His hand, which had been clenched into a tight fist against his thigh, uncurled. The sharpness in his jaw eased, the tension around his mouth smoothing into something effortless.

He didn’t even turn his head. Didn’t watch as you crossed the hall to your usual table, settling in without a second thought.

But Sirius saw it all.

He saw the way Remus exhaled, slow and steady. Saw the way his fingers twitched slightly—like maybe they wanted to follow where you’d been. Saw the way, without even realizing it, Remus tracked your presence out of the corner of his eye before returning to his tea like nothing had happened.

Sirius gawked.

“You have got to be kidding me.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but the disbelief in it was palpable.

James cleared his throat, poorly disguising a smirk as he reached for the pumpkin juice.

“Pads,” he said, in a tone that was dangerously close to condescending, “I’d drop it if I were you.”

Sirius snapped his head toward him, scandalized.

“Did you see that?” Voice whispered, eyes gesturing wildly at Remus, who was now painfully composed, stirring his tea with the patience of a saint. “She brushed past him, and suddenly he’s a bloody monk! He was about to rip my head off, and now look at him—he’s practically floating.”

James just shrugged, taking a sip from his goblet. “Yeah, mate,” he whispered still, far too amused. Only mouthing his next words, in hopes to not break the peace—“We know.”

Remus quite literally looked as though he’d reached enlightenment, comfortable in letting himself ignore everything else around him.

He didn’t think it was weird how, as of late, his mind often wondered to you.

It seemed only natural really, you were more affected by him because of his condition, and he was more affected by you. Guessing that this was how everyone felt this whole time, drawn to you all the time—presence undeniably addicting.

Yeah. It made sense to him. A perfectly reasonable explanation.

That’s why he felt absolutely no way about having found himself in the hospital wing, yet again. Clearly once he’d been sucked into your orbit, there was no escaping—completely unavoidable, not that Remus was complaining.

You could smell him from a mile away, not even turning away from your station—

"Hello, Remus," you mused, setting down a tray of fresh bandages. "What is it this time?"

Remus hummed, glancing down at his hands like he needed to double-check. "Not sure yet. Give me a moment, I'll think of something."

Even during the hustle and bustle of the hospital wing, multitasking as he perched on the edge of an empty bed, silently observing your movements.

You were good company.

That was all the reason he needed.

All that mattered was the way the steady hum of your presence started to settled something deep in his bones, the way the corners of your mouth twitched in quiet amusement whenever your eyes caught his—half-exasperated, half-knowing.

Rolling your eyes, but there was no real bite to it. "You do know this isn’t a common room, right?"

Remus exhaled a slow breath, something curling warm and weightless in his chest. "Strange," he said, tilting his head. "Feels like one."

You gave him a look, but he could tell from the slight twitch of your lips that you were trying not to smile. "Unbelievable," you muttered, shaking your head. "Well, since you're so comfortable, you might as well make yourself useful."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

You turned away, reaching for the large pile of freshly folded bedding, before handing it to him. “Put these on top of the cabinet in the corner, since you’re clearly in no rush to leave."

He took the pile without hesitation, fingers brushing against yours in a way that sent something sharp and fleeting through him—odd, but not unpleasant. Not anything worth thinking about.

"Mm. Of course." Using his height to his advantage, placing them with ease. As much as he wanted to trail after you as you moved around the ward, he’d already been told—several times—that if he wished to stay, he needed to stay out of the way.

Even if he wanted to help it, he couldn’t. There was a pull to you, a presence that drew in attention in ways both subtle and impossible to ignore.

As much as it was special—it’s not something unique to him, at least. You had that effect on everyone.

Rather unfortunately actually.

Not everyone who was drawn to you, was quite as pleasant as Remus. You had a feeling he would come, saunter in—unbelievable high and mighty, friends trailing behind him.

Remus was still sitting on the empty bed, reading, as you packed up the last few things—only fifteen minutes left before the end of your shift. That’s why he was waiting, having fallen into the habit of walking you back to the common room—supposedly because ‘company wouldn’t hurt’.

The sharp inhale that left your lips had him sitting up straight immediately—alert.

“You okay?” Already walking over to where you stood, face twisted into an expression of concern, you simply shook your head—mumbling “Yes”.

Still training your gaze downwards, eyes almost twitching and lips pressed into a thin line. Then he heard them, not too far from the entrance—obnoxiously loud, howling laughter accompanying.

A clear grimance was stuck on your face now, placing a hand on his chest as you finally raised your eyes from the tray of empty vials you’d been sorting.

“Let me handle this, okay?” Voice suddenly hushed, hand lightly pushing him to sit in the far corner, out of sight. He didn’t protest, walking backwards in the direction you motioned him, despite the look of confusion, only asking—

“What? What’s the matter—“

You cut him off completely, practically pleading while you backed away to close him into the bay, brows knit high.

“Just promise you’ll stay here? Please?”

When he finally nodded, you shut the curtains behind you, taking in a final deep breath before plastering the most polite smile you could muster on your face.

It made you want to physically shrink into yourself, the arrogant, smug smirk his lips curled into when he saw you—as jarring as ever.

Avery.

Closely followed by Malfoy and Mulciber. Pathetic really, the lot of them. Walking around as if they were Heaven’s gift to earth, like they graced the presence of everyone they’d met. Fragile, weak men, who so clearly took pleasure in the discomfort they caused others.

So self-important and big headed that they can’t fathom the idea of rejection.

Because you had, in fact, rejected him.

But Avery was relentless—so used to being the one doing the discarding, so accustomed to having others scramble for his approval—he’d not taken it well.

You had tried patience. You had tried politeness. But it was becoming increasingly clear that neither would get you very far.

He leaned against the nearest bedframe, all mock ease and arrogance, his lips twisting into a grin that sent a fresh wave of repulsion through your stomach, setting uncomfortably beneath your ribs.

"Merlin, love," he drawled, letting his gaze drag down your figure, lingering far too long in places that made the surface of your skin crawl. "You really shouldn't be wasting your time in a place like this." He tutted, shaking his head in exaggerated pity. "What a shame—a pretty thing like you, running around cleaning up after other people's messes. Bet you could be doing something much more...suitable for a girl like you."

Malfoy and Mulciber chuckled under their breath, the former nudging Avery's shoulder as if egging him on.

"Shame she's not taking any applicants," Mulciber added with a grin. "Not officially, anyway."

Spine becoming taut, you didn’t even try hide the way your expression visibly distorted into disgusted frown.

Avery’s grin widened, his tone dropping into something lower, more vile. "Come on, sweetheart. I know you’ve got better things to do than play nursemaid to a bunch of useless sods," he said, stepping forward. "That uniform—" He whistled, dragging his eyes over you like you were something to be had. "Merlin—makes a man wonder, doesn't it?"

Roughly dropping the empty vial he’d been fiddling with back into the tray—"Bet you'd be a real treat with a bit less of it on."

The pressure in your jaw from the clench sent sharp pangs through your skull, stomach twisting.

"Shame, though," Avery continued, completely ignoring your stiffened posture, "a bird like you, wasting away in a place like this when you could be spending your time with someone who can show you a good one, a real man."

"Yeah?" you deadpanned. "Where would I find one of those?"

Mulciber let out an obnoxious bark of laughter, while Avery's smirk wavered for the briefest moment before he recovered.

"Feisty," he mused, tilting his head, eyes glinting with something nasty and superior. "I like that."

Knuckles white, fingers numb—you were sure your nails had drawn blood from their harsh digging into your palms.

"But let’s be honest, love," Avery continued, stepping even closer, his voice taking a somewhat conspiratorial cadance. "A girl like you—" He clicked his tongue. "I know what you really are. You act all high and mighty, like you’re better than us. But I reckon if I just—" He reached out toward you, fingers brushing against the fabric of your sleeve. "Pushed a little, you’d fold like the rest of them."

That was it.

"Right," you said, voice cold and even. "If you haven't got anything wrong with you, feel free to leave. I've already given you my answer." Snatching your arm away from him as though he was something filthy—purposefully dusting off where his fingers had been with a loud, “ugh,”

It was painfully silent, and for a moment Avery didn’t move.

His smirk vanished.

Its replacing expression, something ugly, almost unhinged—filled with malice, his nostrils flared as your words, your viseral reaction set in.

"Right," he sneered, stepping even closer, until there was barely a breath between you. "Of course. Because you think you're too good for me, don’t you?"

You stood your ground, not moving an inch—but the fury radiating from him was palpable.

"Don’t you?" he repeated, louder this time, his chest rising and falling in quick succession, puffed out as if to make you cower before him.

A dramatic sigh passed your lips, head rolling over your shoulders—when you looked back at him, an almost devious smirk played on your lips and with a condescending, feigned sympathetic coo, you responded.

“Yeah…I do.”

And that’s what really did it.

Avery’s lips curled into something vicious, eyes narrowing.

"It would be real unfortunate if something happened to that pretty little face of yours," he murmured, voice mockingly sweet but dripping with spite, his finger suddenly reaching up—so light, so deceptively gentle as he brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. You began physically recoling away from his touch, but his fingers gripped the bottom of your jaw—holding you in place, "Seeing as that’s all you really have."

A hand clamped down over his wrist.

It happened so fast—one moment, Avery was inches from you, the next, he was yanked back, spun around so fast that his head barely caught up before he was staring at the broad chest of someone towering over him.

Remus.

He wasn’t angry.

No—anger was too simple, too small.

He was seething.

His grip on Avery’s wrist was bruising, his knuckles white with the pressure. His expression, usually so composed, so calm, was something terrifyingly unreadable.

"You’re a sick bastard, you know that?" Remus finally said, voice eerily smooth—so quiet it sent a shiver of something primal down everyone’s spine.

“Pestering a girl who’s already rejected you, and when that doesn’t work, you threaten her? Because your fragile ego couldn’t stomach the idea of her not wanting you?”

Avery sneered, yanking his arm, but Remus didn’t let go. If anything, his grip tightened.

“You’re a sick little boy with nothing to offer,” Remus continued, slow and deliberate, his voice dripping with disgust.

“I mean, it’s no wonder no one wants you—you’re a pathetic excuse for a human being.”

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Avery’s face turned red—not just with fury, but humiliation. His eyes flickered to Malfoy and Mulciber, both of whom had stepped back ever so slightly, watching with careful amusement, not stepping in. The muscles in Avery’s jaw ticked. His free hand twitched, curling into a fist.

Remus didn’t so much as blink.

The cracking, whining sound of the hospital wing doors is all that was heard.

“What on earth is all this commotion?!”

Madam Pomfrey’s sharp voice cut through the ward, almost bouncing—echoing violently off the walls, her stern expression making even Malfoy stand a little straighter. She narrowed her eyes, gaze flicking between each of you before they landed on Avery.

Yanking his arm from Remus’ grasp, stepping back with a sneer.

"If you’re not sick, you’ve got no business being here," she snapped. "Out—the lot of you!"

Avery was still enraged, but he knew better than to argue.

"Disgraceful," Madam Pomfrey muttered under her breath as she turned to you, her hand coming onto you shoulder with a soft pat. "You’re dismissed for the evening, dear. Go on and get some rest."

You exhaled slowly through your nose, lips still pursed into a thin line, nodding.

But just as you turned to leave, Avery leaned in just close enough for only you to hear, voice low and dark.

"You’ll regret this," he murmured.

Then, with one last glare at Remus, he turned on his heel and stalked out, Malfoy and Mulciber following close behind.

You still hadn’t moved from behind your station, lost in deep thought, goosebumps still raised on your neck from Avery’s vile touch—the blood beneath your skin felt warm, too warm and buzzing with something you’d only describe as fury.

Gaze still fixed on an unimportant spot of the floor, the agitation seemed to only swell, invasive—inevitable, its just that you couldn’t believe it.

The audacity, the nerve, and on top of that; you let him get to you, knowing he relishes in the rise, knowing—

Warmth and a gentle hand, ghosting over your spine is what broke your chain of thought, you could still feel the skin of your cheeks internally burning. If it was anyone else, you would have flinched away, but, it was Remus.

He didn’t say anything at first, just let his hand settle lightly against the small of your back, grounding. You finally took the steps to remove your dressings, hanging them by the doors��still warmed by the heat radiating from his palm.

A silent question, a quiet offering of comfort.

You exhaled, long and slow, willing away the leftover tension still coiled in your muscles. It didn’t work. Barely having made it half way through the walk to the common room, almost trudging to a stop—footsteps getting heavier the further you walked.

“That was—” You stopped yourself, shaking your head as a humorless huff left your lips. “Unbelievable.”

Remus’ fingers twitched against your back, the only sign of the anger still simmering beneath his composed exterior.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that, you didn’t deserve it,” His voice was even, comforting but still slightly strained, turning the last corner before reaching the dungeon, he pressed further—“You know that, right?”

Pausing outside the common room door, you nodded, rolling your shoulders as if that would shake off the lingering filth Avery had left in his wake.

“I know,” you muttered. “Doesn’t make it feel any less disgusting.”

Remus didn’t respond right away, and when he did, it wasn’t with words. Instead, his hand slipped from its place on your back, pulling you in lightly by your wrists towards him. Engulfing you completely, arms firmly wrapped out you, anchoring—when you lifted your head to look at him, he was already looking down at you. Eyes swimming with sympathy and unspoken words of compassion that just escaped him.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you murmured, searching his face. “Step in like that.”

The way his brows furrowed made it seem as though the thought had never even occurred to him.

“Of course, I did.” The answer was simple, final, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And to him, it was.

You studied his face for a little while longer, the look in his eyes so unbareably fond, it had the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end—you forced yourself to look away shaking your head, the ghost of a smile twitching at the corners of your lips.

Just the glimpse of your smile had a small twinge of pride blooming in Remus’ chest—unable to avoid the way his lips mirrored yours, forming a crooked one. Having felt the tension in your shoulders melt away, the way you comfortably tilted your head up at him again—a soft, sincere “Thank you,” resting in the air between you, he allowed himself to relax.

Ever so slowly, reluctantly, you were putting space between you, arm trailing down his as you walked backwards towards to door, drawing out the seconds so you could absorb his warmth just that bit longer.

“You don’t have to thank me,”

Still basking in the lasting grip of his hand on yours, arms stretching out and away from both your bodies, inching painstakingly back—”I know,”—the words were soft, airy—fingertips just barely connecting now, eyes locked with his.

The heavy sound and creeking of the door, is all that hung between you for a few long moments, both still savouring the last whisps of skin on skin—until your back was pressed against the door, a lazy smile spread across you lips, breathing out—”Goodnight, Remus,” before finally disappearing behind the cold metal.

Not even moments after you were out of his sight, he sighed, almost dreamily—fingertips still buzzing from your touch, he ran a hand through his already messy hair, letting it drag down the side of his face. Settling on his lips, still stretched into a cheesy grin as he started his walk back to his common room.

After that day, Remus somehow found a way to make sure you were rarely alone, always with you on your shifts, putting imperative effort into essentially escorting you around the castle—its not that he thought you couldn’t handle yourself.

It was that Avery was notoriously cruel and twisted on his own, but with the added encouragement of his entourage, and the burning desire Remus knew he had to defend his bruised ego.

It felt necessary to him.

He’d been so thorough, that even as the full moon came and went—Lily had coincidentally taken the time to join you before the end of your shift, grabbing dinner in the great hall every night that Remus was away. You were almost never alone.

Almost.

To and from classes, it became a bit harder to ensure you had company. But quite frankly you weren’t convinced it was necessary at all. It’s not just that you weren’t particularly fond of people taking time out of their day to get you from point A to point B.

It’s that you didn’t even believe Avery was actually going to do anything, it had been almost two weeks and he still had yet to utter a single word to you. Apart from the occassional glare from across the great hall—Avery’s little threat had been relatively harmless.

You didn’t even grant him the satisfaction of acknowledgement as you walked by him and his friends while they sat on a bench in the courtyard. And even as another snide and vulgar remark reached your ears, you continued to where you needed to—completely unfazed.

Though, it did make the grip you had on your textbooks, that tad bit tighter. Taking in a deep breath, you told yourself—you’re above it, you’re better than them.

It seemed that Avery was a bit of an opportunist, waiting for the right time to jab at you, waiting until you were alone.

One after the other, they hopped off the bench—trailing after you, the scuff of boots against the dry ground, the low murmurs of laughter that sent a wave of irritation down your spine. It was calculated—deliberate, the sun was low, casting long shadows across the courtyard—students milled about in the distance, not too many, just enough.

“Going somewhere, sweetheart?” Avery’s voice was deceptively light, laced with the same condescension that it dripped the last time. “You’ve been awfully rude, you know. Ignoring me like that.”

You sighed through your nose, forcing your steps to remain even—you’re above it, you’re better than them.

A presence at your side. Another just behind. You were surrounded, their shadows stretching long under the fading sunlight.

“I’m busy, Avery—don’t you have a stone to kick or something.”

His smirk twitched, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw his fingers flex like he was resisting the urge to grab you. “You know,” he said, voice all mock thoughtfulness, “I wasn’t going to let you get away with what happened in the hospital wing.”

That made you stop.

The words dug under your skin, prickling, burning, unrelenting—you turned sharply, finally looking him in the eye.

Avery smiled, slow and victorious, relishing in the reaction.

“That’s more like it,” he murmured, taking a deliberate step closer.

The urge to wipe that smug, entitled look off his face clawed at your insides.

“Oh, so that’s what this is about?” you said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You think you’re being gracious, do you? Letting me ‘get away with it’? What, so I’m supposed to thank you for your mercy?”

Avery’s smirk twisted.

“Wouldn’t kill you to show a little gratitude,” he mused, eyes flicking down your body with a slow, assessing gaze had you fighting every urge to not simply swing at him. “You’ve been walking around here like you’re above people. You ought to be taught a lesson.”

He took a step closer, a sick, dread beginning to pool in the pits of your stomach, fingers twitching for your wand—you’re above it, you’re better than them.

“That uniform of yours,” he murmured, tilting his head like he was considering something. “You have to know what it does, don’t you? Little skirt, all dolled up like you’re just begging for attention.”

Eyes darkened with something vile.

“Though I suppose you’re already getting plenty of attention, aren’t you?” he sneered. “Flitting around in that little thing, acting all innocent, when we both know what you are.”

He leaned in slightly, just enough to make it invasive.

“Lupin have you playing nurse, is that it? Bet he just loves having you at his bedside, don’t you, sweetheart?” His voice dropped lower. “Bet you wouldn’t even have to ask to get on your knees for him.”

You’d finally had enough, completely disgarding your textbooks to the floor as your shoved him back aggressively. The heated argument erupting in no time—vexed and roaring, “All this bitching because one girl doesn’t want you—pathetic!” You almost didn’t recognise your own voice, shrill, abrupt, nasty.

Words violent and clashing against his, boiling and sharp, insults spewing, slicing through the once peaceful air of the courtyard. A few heads turned, a few onlookers slowing their steps as the tension grew thick, simmering with something electric, something dangerous.

It was the principle, you refused to back down.

Refused to let him win.

And when the venom on your tongue reached its peak, when you could no longer stand the sight of his smug, entitled face—taking a step back, face twisted and scrunched into a look a revolt, while you surveyed him. Eyes scanning from head to toe, you let out a loud, bellowing incredulous laugh before spitting, “You’re not even worth it, Avery. Infact, you’re a waste of time and good air,”

Then you turned away.

Disregarding—dismissed him like he was nothing.

The sharp crack of an insult, a curse from Avery’s lips, venomous and unchecked.

And that was when it happened.

You heard the whisper of fabric, the flick of a wrist—the fizzling hiss of magic.

The moment was barely a fraction of a second, having put just enough space between you, there was time—you’d be quick enough to deflect it—the hex. Every instinct, every reflex kicking and screaming to do so, to move, fight back before it hit you.

But—there were just too many people.

Too many bodies standing in your proximity, too many possible targets, too much risk of having someone else caught in the crossfire. Enough time to deflect, not enough to redirect—you’d have no control over where it would go, you didn’t even hear the curse he muttered, no chance of knowing what it could do, no control of who it could hit.

So you made a choice, bracing yourself, every muscle of your being constricting, becoming taut.

You took it—biting into your lip as the awful, searing burn of the spell made contact with your back, the impact making you seize up even further, hurtling forwards, upwards.

The world around you blurred, spun—then—

Stone.

A sickening crack as the side of your body collided with the hard stone of the courtyard walls, ribs taking the brunt of the impact, before you bounced off it, gravity pulling you down. Slamming against the firm ground with a dull thud.

At some point, Regulus has caught sight of the commotion and was already running to the great hall in search for his brother—who would without a doubt be with Remus.

Pain exploded through your side, agonising, blooming mercilessly with every breath, every slight movement. The sharp stinging throb of your ribs, your lungs burning as the weight of every inhale pressed against the bones—each one more of a struggle than the last.

Curling in to yourself, hand desperately clutching at your side—eyes squeezed shut, the world sounded so distant, muffled, the first thing you register was the silence—all you could feel was the small shards of grass brushing against the side of your cheek with each shaking tremble of your body.

Then, a second later—murmurs. A ripple of shocked voices.

A small crowd had formed, hesitant, concerned, a voice was so close but so far away you wouldn’t make it out over the gurgling, rushing sound that floated between your ears—instictively raising a hand, a signal—stay away.

Barely hearing the sharp gasp from somewhere in the distance—the sound of loud panicked footsteps—running. Unsure of how much time you’d spent laying there—only disturbed by the way the footsteps made your body shake as they got closer, you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the desperate calls of what you thought might have been your name.

Hand coming into contact with something hard and hot—trying to push it away, it was all too much and you were still—the pain of movement so overbearing. Pushing through the crowd, his heart rested firmly in the pits of his stomach at the sight of you—fragile, just a small mass of robes, folded into yourself.

Eerily similar to that morning two moons ago.

He scooped you up quickly, despite the weak and pitiful protest that left your lips, the heartbeat that was now pressed close to your ear was mildly soothing—familiar.

Remus.

Each one of his rushed jolting strides made the stabbing pain in your side more noticeable, and though the voices blurred and blended into eachother, you could make out three, maybe four other sets of rushed footsteps behind you.

A mild, faintly sweet smell of anti-bacterial filled your nostrils, the hospital wing. Even in his panic, you could recognise the overly catious, gentle way Remus set you down on bed—still pained whimpers spilled from your lips, once again curling in on yourself.

Pomfrey’s voice was sharp and alarmed, bringing you ever so slighty back into the room, she was telling, no asking something, and Regulus’ voice chimed in.

“It was Avery, he hexed her while her back was turned—coward.”

You could feel the heat of Remus’ hand on your back, trying to sooth you, calm the injured groans that you couldn’t hold in. And as Pomfrey’s gentle hand came to move yours from their desperate grasp on your side, you squirmed away—cracking an eye open as another wave a pain radiated through your body.

She shushed you, voiced becoming more tender and quiet—”You have to let me see, dear,”

Slowly, reluctantly, you withdrew your hands, breaths becoming more shallow with each moment, and as she lifted the hem of your shirt, revealing your skin, a chorus of horrified gasps sounded around you.

Your side adorned with dark splotches of red and black and blue surrounding the area, streaking up your side in cruel, uneven smears. The skin was swollen, raised in places where the bone had set wrong—a clear distorted, raised bump peaking at the side. Flinching sharply at the prodding touch Pomfrey pressed into you, hands gripping the sides of the bed in restraint.

“Oh dear,” The grave tone in which she spoke did not give Remus the sense of comfort he was looking for, brows knit high on his forehead, and like the others, gaze transfixed on the huge blossoming mark on your side.

She turned in a flurry of motion, disappearing behind the curtain only to reappear moments later, her expression unreadable but urgent.

They waited anxiously to be in the know. Barely minutes had passes since your arrival, and a sobering silence had already hung in the ward, the only audible sound was you.

The laboured, heaves and cries you struggled to contain.

No one spoke.

Lily and James stood stiffly at the foot of the bed, their worried eyes darting between you and Pomfrey. Regulus was deathly still, his lips pressed into a tight line.

Finally, after multiple rounds to and from the cabinet Pomfrey, took the first of three vials and put a few drops of the cloudy white liquid under your tongue, doing the same with a few more drops from a vial with green liquid—it must have been foul tasting from the way your body stiffened with a small retch. With a deep breath, she announced to them—

"This is nasty business," she said, voice low, steady. "I’ll need you to hold her down."

Remus’ head snapped up.

"What?"

His hand had come up to your head, stoking the hair that had stuck to your face away—sweat prickling at your hairline.

Pomfrey didn’t hesitate.

“She has a broke rib, it’s healing in the wrong position,” her hands her already moving to press against the swelling at your side, even as you twisted in agony, she continued,

“I need to re-break the bone.”

Eyes nearly popped out of his head, heartbeat ringing loud in his ears—though still not loud enough to drown out the constant shallowed, wheezes that left you, littered with moans of distress that got weaker as the seconds passed—your lungs struggled to fill with enough air to support your voice.

Re-break the bone.

It sounded so clinical, so matter-of-fact, so detached from the reality of what it actually meant.

Your breaths were coming too shallow, too fast, your vision slightly spotting at the edges. The sharp, stabbing ache in your ribs with each inhale made it impossible to breathe properly. Every tiny movement sent daggers through your body, the weight of it all crushing.

“But she’s still awake,” James whispered mostly to himself, soft, quiet—but everyone still heard.

The words rattled around in your skull, sinking past layers of pain and exhaustion, now, you were panicking, hand frantically clawing up Remus’ forearm.

“We don’t have time to wait for a sleeping potion to work, it’s already healing as we speak.”

Your vision was blurry, but you could feel Remus’ hand against your forehead, could hear the barely restrained emotion in his voice.

“Shhh, it’ll be over soon,” What else could he have said?

There was nothing he could do.

Nothing anyone could do but hold you down and watch.

It needed to be done, you understood that, but it didn’t make your next words any easier to say, every syllable a struggle against your fractured ribs, “Do it now—,”

Pomfrey nodded.

James and Regulus hesitated for only a second before stepping forward, grim-faced, exchanging silent glances before reaching for you.

James’ hands found your shoulders, firm but careful, his grip like iron. Regulus settled by your legs, a single hand pressed against your thigh, his face etched with a deep frown—your pain so clear, so raw he couldn’t look at you. Lily hovered just beside him, her fingers twitching at her sides, as if resisting the urge to reach for you herself.

And then there was Remus.

His hands were steady, one gripping yours tightly, the other resting against your head, his thumb brushing against your temple in slow, comforting strokes, feeling truly tormented—harsh wrinkles between his brows as he winced with you. Dreading the idea that you will now know of a pain so awful and familiar to him.

Pomfrey took a deep breath—"On three."

Your own breath caught by the lump in your throat.

"One.”

Gripping on Remus tighter, gaze fearful as it fell on him.

"Two."

Your body tensed, finally screwing your eyes shut, forcing the brewing tears out the corners, instinctively bracing—

"Three."

The crack was sickening.

But the sound that followed was much much worse.

Your jaw slacked releasing a truly blood-curdling, tortured, harrowing, an ear-splitting scream—it ripped through your throat, hoarse and choked, resonating through the ward with an echo.

A pain unlike anything you’d ever known exploded through your side, hot and sharp, rattling up your spine and everywhere. It felt like being torn in half, deep and intense. Your body tried to arch away, escape the splittering agony that set every nerve on fire, but James held you down, gritting his teeth as you thrashed weakly against him.

Only able to focus on the reorganising of bones at your side, the low grinding and shifting sound you heard from within yourself.

A fresh wave of agony struck—white-hot and blinding—and suddenly, you weren’t sure how much longer you could stay awake, head lolling in clear delirium, vision blurring, blackening at the edges, sob ridden whimpers and hiccups still tumbling out between wheezes, your grasp on Remus faltering.

Your vision tunneled, black at the edges, fading—

"Stay with me, y/n,” he whispered, voice raw—wrecked, laced with something aching. "You’re okay."

You didn’t believe him.

The slow and gentle soothing, lulling stroke of his palms over your hair matched the pattern his fingertips ghosted over your hand, fingers intertwined—he held your hand close, pressed to his chest as if letting you go would mean losing you completely.

Still reeling from the pain, nerve endings on fire, all you could muster the strength to produce was one word, weak and unsteady—”Remus?”

Pomfrey worked quickly again, pressing another vial to your lips, the taste barely registering past the burning in your chest—applying a large bandage coated in medicinal ointment to your side. Remus took the small towel by the bedside, softly dabbing off the beads of sweat that remained on your forehead—

"Breathe, love," he murmured, voice soft as silk, but no less urgent. "In through your nose, out through your mouth."

Your lungs shuddered—staggering at the effort, the air thick, heavy, impossible to take in. But you tried. The worst of it dwindled away, not gone, not by a long shot—but enough for the unbearable pressure to settle into something dull, something that no longer consumed everything.

Your body went slack.

Regulus let out a long, slow breath.

James loosened his grip, rubbing a hand over his face.

And Remus—His legs almost gave out beneath him, barely able to swallow the lump in his throat as he took a deep breath for the first time in what felt like forever, and he leaned in closer—the idea of continued space between you was basphemous.

No one spoke.

For a long moment, the only sound in the ward was the shallow, uneven rhythm of your breaths.

"It will heal properly now," she said, her voice more gentle than before, but edged with a small tinge of relief, “I slowed her healing, so the pain will linger for a few days. She’ll need rest.”

Then she was gone, disappearing behind the curtain, leaving the rest of them standing around your bed, and Remus—he only stared at you, his thumb still absentmindedly tracing the back of your hand, eyes running over your exhausted figure, eyes clearly heavy with the grueling after effects of your ordeal.

A long silence stretched between you.

Letting out a slow, jagged, painful inhale, tongue darting out to wet your dry lips to no avail—it was hushed and raw, “Water,”

Remus all but scrambled to get the small metal cup by the bedside, gently slipping a hand under your neck to tilt your head forward—helping you take a few sips. The others all just watch the scene unfolding infront of them, the comfortable way you leaned into Remus’ touch, the unnecessarily fond and tender look in his eyes as he instinctively dotes on you. How his hand trailed back to yours, drawn in to it like a magnet.

Lily couldn’t help the small knowing smile that twitched onto her lips.

Then, the heavy wooden doors of the hospital wing slammed open abrupty with a force that rattled the glass vials on Pomfrey’s shelves.

Everyone’s heads snapped up.

Sirius stood in the entrance, his chest rising and falling with sharp, heavy breaths, his knuckles raw and split. His robes were disheveled, streaked with dirt and something darker, something red. And in his grasp, dragged by the scruff of his collar, was none other than Avery.

Or, at least, what was left of him.

Avery was battered—face swollen, a deep gash running from his cheekbone down to his jaw, lip split so severely that blood had seeped into his teeth. His robes were torn, dirt and grime smeared across the fabric, and his wand—his precious, useless wand—was nowhere to be seen.

Sirius took a few steps forward, his grip tight on Avery’s collar, until they were just a few paces away from your cot.

And with a sharp jerk, he threw Avery to the floor.

The Slytherin crumpled like a ragdoll, landing in a heap at the foot of your bed, groaning as his battered body hit the stone.

Pomfrey gasped, hand flying to her chest.

"What on earth—"

But Sirius wasn’t listening.

He stood over Avery, hands curling into fists at his sides, his entire body still taut with adrenaline. For a long, stretched-out moment, he simply stared at the boy on the ground, nostrils flaring with every furious breath, as if daring him to move. Then, voice low and seething, Sirius asked,

"Haven’t you have something to say?"

The room was silent.

Avery coughed, his body shuddering with the effort.

Straining yourself to move further up the bed—you watched with everyone, every breath rattling in your lungs, eyes dark and cold.

Avery hesitated for a second too long, and Sirius moved—a single, sharp step forward, hands twitching, still ready to rip him apart.

"Alright!" Avery wheezed, flinching back. "Alright!"

The silence stretched thick.

"I did it—I hexed her!"

The words came out weak, broken, almost panicked—pathetic.

Sirius said nothing, only raised a brow, unimpressed.

Avery swallowed hard, shifting painfully on the floor.

"I’m sorry."

There it was.

Sirius still didn’t speak, just watched him, waiting—the digust dripping off of the scrowl that sat on his face.

"He—" Avery’s voice cracked, shaking violently as he forced himself to continue, "—he didn’t do anything to me. I just…" His throat bobbed, his entire face twisted in humiliation. "I just walked into the Whomping Willow."

James was grinning now, shaking his head in mock pity. "Wow. That’s just—" he let out a low whistle, "—real unlucky, mate."

Sirius smirked, slow and dangerous.

But Remus wasn’t smiling.

He was staring at Avery, his face unreadable, his grip on your hand still firm but not tight. He hadn’t said a single word since Sirius arrived, hadn’t moved a muscle—just watching.

Sirius took a deep breath, exhaling sharply as he rolled out his shoulders, like he was only just calming down from whatever happened before he’d stormed into the ward.

Then, crouching down so he was eye level with Avery, he grinned.

"You should consider yourself lucky," he mused, voice dangerously casual, "because if it were up to him?" He tilted his head, nodding over to Remus, smile sharp and positively wolfish. "You wouldn’t be conscious right now."

Avery’s entire body shuddered.

Sirius only chuckled darkly, clapping him on the shoulder—hard enough to make him flinch.

“Off with you now, before Remus decides to be less forgiving,”

Avery swallowed thickly, glancing toward the matron—who, while still clearly appalled, had her arms rigidly crossed but was making no move to defend him. Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself off the floor, every movement making him wince. And then—without another word—he turned and limped toward the exit, humiliated beyond belief.

The moment the doors shut behind him, a collective breath was released.

Remus turned his attention back to you, the anger that previously blazed in his eyes melting away in seconds, another smaller, more comfortable silence lulled over the ward. Sirius turning, and as he took the last few steps toward your bed, looking you up and down, taking in the way you were still clutching weakly at your ribs, holding onto Remus, he let out a breath, asking—

"You alright?"

The very corners of your lips curled, twitching up every so slightly as you huffed out a choked snicker, and though it was cut off by a sharp hiss—you were clearly amused. Letting your head fall back tiredly with—”I’m alright, much better now,”

Pomfrey slipped through the curtains again, and while she changed the small now sweat ridden towel by your bed, refilling the water, she said—

"I assume I don’t need to tell any of you to let her sleep."

She eyed the group pointedly.

James had the decency to look sheepish. Lily nodded. Regulus said nothing, but his arms were crossed, as Sirius rested his elbow on his shoulder—the usual indifference returning.

But Remus, he couldn’t bring himself to tear his hand away—you looked so tired, probably wanted some rest, but he was frozen in place, stuck by your side.

Pomfrey sighed.

"Fine," she muttered, almost to herself, "just don’t let me catch you keeping her awake."

He let out a sigh of relief as she left, the others slowly filtering out, Lily giving your hand a comforting tight squeeze as she left. Remus pulled his chair up closer, allowing his body to lean slightly on the bed, just watching you eyes full of worry.

It was slowly and shaky, but you brought your free hand up to him—he stayed still, watching expectantly for your next movements. Your fingertips threading slightly through his hair in a gentle stroke, pushing it away from his face—mirroring his from before.

But yours slipped down and settled at the base of his neck, fingers still curling around the strands—touch too tender. Eyes scanning his face just as much as his were scanning yours.

“You don’t need to stay here—I’ll be fine for the night,” It came out heavy and mumbled, less convincing than you’d hoped. His face flashed slightly with an almost offended expression, the idea clearly never having crossed his mind.

“I want to stay,”

His words were plain, honest—left little room for protest on your end, but you still tried. And even as your eyes got heavier, sleep weighing heavy on your body—”But you can’t sleep on that chair all night, you’ll break your back,”

A huffed laugh came through his nose, typical crooked smile playing on his lips—”I’ll be fine—”

“Come up here,”

Yours words cut him off, light and simple, and you shuffled over onto your side—lips pursed to hold in a wince, making space for him before he could protest. His eyes just darted between you and the now open space, trying and failing miserably to stutter out an excuse—but the sleepy bored look in your eyes, accompanied with the light pats on the bed made him relent.

Slipping into the bed, careful not to knock you and keeping a safe, meticulous distance from you, you couldn’t help yourself, eyes rolling with a dramatic sigh—”I’m not made of glass, y’know,”

Watching as his form relaxed a bit, taking up more space, you slowly curled into the gap he’d left, drapping the thin cover over you both, humming as you finally closed your eyes. He watched you settle carefully, hesitating before bring an arm around to softly pull you in slightly closer to him, the smile twitched onto his face, when you unconsciously burrowed into him—allowing sleep to over come him too.

The change between you wasn’t instantaneous, nor was it something either of you consciously acknowledged. It was slow, creeping, like ink bleeding through parchment—gradual, yet utterly inescapable.

Because it wasn’t just that night you spent in each other’s comfortable and content company, and though it started with the nights, this was the first of many.

Somewhere along the way, your post-shift routine had shifted. You never really meant to end up in Remus’ dorm every night—it had just happened. One moment, you were finishing up in the library, the next, you were in his bed, limbs tangled lazily, a book forgotten between you as you talked in hushed voices about anything and everything. His sheets smelled faintly of parchment and something woodsy, and without fail, your shoulders, your knees, your arms would brush, a constant, grounding touch that neither of you ever pulled away from.

At some point, you both stopped pretending this was something normal friends did.

Maybe it was the way his fingers always lingered on your wrist when he passed you something, or the way he never failed to have a Bloodsucker rolling around at the bottom of his bag.

It had started as a small thing—insignificant, really. You hadn’t even noticed it at first, not until the third or fourth time it happened.

The first time, it was after a particularly long shift, your legs aching from standing too long, your mind buzzing with exhaustion. You’d barely slumped into your usual seat beside Remus in his common room when he wordlessly reached into his pocket and pulled something out. A small, wrapped sweet.

You had blinked at it, then at him.

“What’s this?”

He shrugged, as if it was nothing. “Thought you could use one.”

Then again between classes, during late-night study sessions, in the middle of a quiet walk back to the dorms—whenever you reached for one absentmindedly, he had one ready, handing it to you without a second thought. He never even looked like he thought about it, just pulled it from his pocket like it was as natural as breathing.

The realization hit one afternoon, sitting across from him in the library, books scattered between you. He passed you a piece of parchment, and along with it, he slid a familiar, wrapped sweet across the table.

You narrowed your eyes at him, picking it up. “Okay, you definitely don’t carry these around for yourself.”

He barely looked up from his book, but the ghost of a smirk played on his lips. “Maybe I just like being prepared.”

“For what?”

Remus finally glanced up, a single brow raised. “For you, obviously.”

Maybe it was the projects—you always ended up partners. Whether it was a conscious decision or just something unspoken between you, you gravitated toward one another like it was inevitable. Like it was meant to be. The others barely batted an eye anymore, rolling their eyes as you took your usual seats together, heads ducked in close as you whispered back and forth, scribbling notes in the margins of each other’s parchment.

Or maybe it was the bookstore.

That trip to Hogsmeade was different. You’d both walked through the cobbled streets, the wind crisp but pleasant, your arms brushing as you made your way toward the small, tucked-away shop Remus had offhandedly mentioned once before. It was his place—somewhere quiet, somewhere his. And yet, he’d brought you.

He watched as your fingers trailed the spines, his own hand brushing over yours as he pointed out his favorites. There was a certain weight in the air, a quiet understanding you both wordlessly acknowledge—both so easily able to find solace in each other, a unspoken harmony—solidarity.

And then there were his nights.

Pomfrey was very understanding when you began to ask to have the days after the full moon off.

You had entered his dorm without knocking—because, by now, you never had to. You expected him to be curled up in bed, exhausted and aching, maybe reading, maybe just resting. Instead, the moment you sat down beside him, he shifted—eyes heavy-lidded, body sluggish, but his arm curled loosely around your waist, his face nudging into the fabric of your jumper.

You barely even hesitated before your fingers found his hair, carding through it with a softness you didn’t even have to think about.

You were there every morning after, pulling the duvet up over his shoulders, murmuring softly as he pressed closer, his fingers grazing the fabric of your sleeve like he needed to feel you near.

And somehow, somehow, the nights you stayed over became less about exhaustion and more about something else.

You weren’t sure when you stopped leaving.

There was no more, “I should go,” no more, “It’s getting late.”

One day, you simply didn’t.

It just took one moment—you were dozing beside him, your legs tucked between his, your cheek pressed into his pillow. The next, you were waking up, his arm draped heavily over your waist, your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. His scent clung to you, warm and familiar, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the soft warmth of him against your back.

It was inevitable.

The stolen glances, the lingering touches—each one more obvious than the last. The shift had been slow, careful, but now it felt like a rope being pulled taut, a thread stretched thin between the two of you, waiting to snap.

The day it did, was so ordinary.

Nothing out of the daily routine for you and Remus—you’d made your way over to his dorm, to keep him company, of course—James and Sirius were off at quidditch practise, leaving just the two of you. Both lying on your backs, sprawled across the bed.

The light music of one of Remus’ records droning on in the back as you listened to the low and steady melody of his voice—reading outloud, you’d have to admit, you weren’t paying as much attention to what he was saying as you were to the light vibrations his words sent through the matress beneath you.

Taking a few moments of near silence for you to realise he’d stopped reading, mumbling out quietly, “Why’d you stop?”, as you turned to look at him—but he was already looking at you. The sudden intensity of his gaze made your breath catch in your throat, but his voice as casual as ever in your ears—”You were falling asleep, that’s why,”

The ghost of a pout reached your lips, lightly defending yourself in feigned offence, “No I wasn’t.”

He huffed out a light scoff, shifting onto his stomach, somehow impossibly closer to you—the breath of his words brushing over the curve of your cheek. One of those crooked smiles that made your chest bloom with an undeniably fuzzy feeling etched onto his face, “If you weren’t falling asleep what did I just say?”

Your lips parted, sucking an inhale as if you were about to answer, but all that came out were stammered stutters of half started words, before you huffed out in defeat—he was already laughing at you. And it shook the bed, making you bounce slightly up and and down in sync with him, it made you giggle—joining and mixing in with his as it echoed off the walls of his dorm.

When it finally quieten down, lazy grins still stretch out on both of your faces, he couldn’t help it—it was second nature at this point, he leaned in closer, fingertips rushing the hair lightly away from your face with a low content hum.

It didn’t make sense, the familiarness of his touch was the same as always, and yet today, it made your mouth so incredibly dry—swallowing thickly as he inched closer and closer. The space between you barely a fingers width.

The sun shone in lightly through the window behind him, giving a small spotlight to the golden brown whisps of curls that framed his face—his eyes were scanning your face, for reluctance, hesitation—anything.

But your expression was calm, matching his movement—eyes darting around his, catalogueing his features, the way his eyelashes became slightly straighter towards the ends of his eyes, and the extra freckles by the edges of his eyebrows. Involuntarily, you sucked in a small sharp breath as he closed in, when there was just a slither of space left between you.

He paused, eyes flicking between yours and your lips, words so shockingly tender, barely above a whisper—”Do you want me to stop?”

You couldn’t trust your voice to not break under the pressure of his gaze—so warm, so fond. Instead you just shook your head, fingers twitching up to his arm, he was so close—but hesitant still. Catious.

Even as he leaned down towards you, he paused again, just as the tips of your nose brushed against each other—eyes still searching for even a drop of doubt in yours. Shifting to hover over you lightly, fingertips coming to just lightly trace along the line from the bottom of his jaw, to the drip in his neck.

His lips brushed against yours.

It was soft at first, testing, but the moment your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, he pressed closer, Remus abandoned all his reserved. Melting against your touch with a low sigh, dropping the weight he held on his forearms and pressing into you, deepening the kiss. Something that was once gentle and timid, bloomed into more feverish, wanting touches and grasps.

His hands gripping almost roughly at the curve of your hips, rolling you over and onto him—erupting in giggles against his lips—the sound muffled between the spaces where your mouths met, soft and breathless.

His laughter mixed with yours, a quiet, husky sound that sent warmth curling deep in your stomach. His hands slid over your waist, fingers splayed against the thin fabric of your shirt, his touch firm, but reserved—like he wasn’t sure if he should be holding you like this but couldn’t bring himself to stop.

You didn’t want him to.

Both hands sliding to his neck, exploring, travelling up and down—carding through his hair one moment, holding desperately onto his jaw the next, pulling him closer as if to fall into him—become one. His touch leaving the surface beneath your skin, warm and craving.

Muffled groans and whimpers sounded through the room, the pads of his fingers pressing slightly harder into the rounds of your hips—leaning up into you, into the kiss, breathless and greedy. Sitting himself up straight—allowing his hands to wander, trailing down your spine—spending jolting shivers through you, pawing at your thighs.

Indulging in the first taste of you, the pent up desire set free in the form of unrestrained, frenzied kisses. Relishing in the contact, the cooling sensation of your cold body against his—touches becoming rushed and eager as he drank in every gasp of his name that passed from your lips onto his.

It wasn’t until his hands, once again, found purchase on your hips—grasp almost bruising, causing your to rock helplessly against him, did you pull away suddenly with a sharp gasp. Burying your face into the curve of his neck, chest heaving. A string of apologies immediately tumbled from his mouth, “fuck m’ sorry, I didn’t mean to—y/n,”

He leaned back, trying to catch a glimpse of your face, but you’d brought your hands up to cover it, barely loud enough to hear, squeaking out, “It’s fine—just don’t look at me,” It was a bit late for that, he could already see them—the small dark veins that pulsed and protuded from the base of your neck stretching further up.

“Y/N,”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, not yet, not like this—hands still stuck firmly to your face—chest still rising and falling in quick succession, just as breathless as him. He pressed again, voice low and soft, comforting—”Lemme see,”

“Just gimme a minute,” Voice panicked and muffled by your palms.

He didn’t wait, just taking your wrists lightly, and pulling them away—your head hung low in shame, avoiding his gaze, still trying to catch your breath. Letting go of your wrists, they fell to your sides, and his hands came up to your face, compelling your gaze to meet his.

“Why are you hiding from me?”

Eyes as warm and sincere as ever, he let his hands trail down your neck, ghosting over you shoulders—gently tracing the curve of your spine, forcing a soft gasp from your lips as a shiver ran through you.

His touch was delicate, reverent, as though he feared you might break beneath his fingers. His thumbs brushed just beneath your jaw, tracing slow, featherlight circles against your skin—where the veins pulsed dark and traitorous against the curve of your throat.

“Y/N,” he murmured again, softer this time, like he was afraid to startle you. “It’s alright.”

Leaning down, peppering slow, calming kisses to the exposed skin of your collarbones, the goosebumps raising in their wake impossible to ignore—hands finding their way to grasp at the fabric of his jumper.

His hands now rested low on your waist, making your breath hitch as he nipped lightly at the skin of your neck, trailing his soft pecks up and down from your neck to your jaw. Humming as you leaned into them, melting.

Becoming putty in his hands, once again.

Light gasps slipping through your lips when he brought the thin skin behind your ear in between his teeth—the lightest of bites and bruises littered between his words; “Did you have your potion last week?”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, just barely tugging at the soft brown tufts, panting out, breathless; “Forgot,”

He only hummed back again in acknowledgment, bringing his lips back to yours, swallowing the whines of his name the your couldn’t contain. “So pretty,” he mumbled against your lips. Touch worshipping each piece of skin it passed, fingertips inching up the underside of your shirt—leaving light feathering touches across your skin before residing in the dip of your waist.

Kisses slipping away from your lips as you shuddered against him—lips pressing firm against the curve of your jaw he whispered, “Want a bite?”

The drag of your fingertips against the skin at the nape of his neck forced a groan from his lips, as he continued his assault on the sensitive skin by the dip in your neck. You almost didn’t notice what he said, brain warm and fuzzy from the hot kisses—eventually mumbling out, “Not funny, Rem,”

Your words came out breathy and distracted, less convicted than you’d like, sighing dreamily against his touch. You could feel the way he smiled against your skin—“Mmm not laughing,” so close you could feel each rumbling vibration of his words in your chest the warmth radiating off him mind numbing.

A gasps catching in your throat as he tightened his grip on you, anchoring—punctuating his words with the small nibbles and pecks, “Been thinking about it…for a while,” it was so hard to focus on what he was saying with the way the pads of his fingers dug into flesh at your side—as if it were possible to pull you any closer than you already were, “—trust you,”

He leaned back slightly, taking a look at your hazy expression—lips swollen and glistening, half lidded and breathless. Absolutely bewitching. He looked just as tempting, tops of his cheekbones reddened matching the deep red of his parted lips. Just barely brushing his nose against yours, sighing almost dreamily at the contact—his thumbs stroking slowly back and forth over the flesh of your hips.

Whispering so softly, “Only if you want to,” a pressure-less offer.

Instead of responding, you just leaned into him further, reconnecting your lips making him sigh contently. Eventually, trailing cautiously light, ghosting kisses down his jaw, mirroring his own nipping and sucking pattern. Fingers twiddling and intertwining with the small curls at the base of his scalp.

Testing, contemplating his offer when you found yourself hovering over the junction by his neck, his heartbeat joining yours in its loud thumping rhythm that rung in your ears. Ever so slightly craning his neck, baring the skin to you—soothing your hesitation with simple words, “It’s okay,”

The air almost stilling, his voice so delicate even as he felt the small sharp, piercing of your teeth into his skin. He’d thought it would hurt more, be more uncomfortable—unpleasant. But he just felt a rush in his head, jaw slacking slightly permitting the prettiest groan you’d ever heard. Hips stuttering against yours, eyes almost rolling as he flooded all your senses, unconsciously grasping onto him tighter.

A hot buzzing filling him entirely—surprisingly euphoric, intoxicating. Your body shuddered against his, muffled delicate whimpers passing through you, licking lightly at the broken skin as you withdrew—it was short, barely ten seconds of connection. All nerve endings in your body set alight, looking back at pupils blown.

Drunk on him.

Exhaling with almost a honeyed purr, he lifted his thumb wiping gently at the corners of your mouth. Planting a kiss just by where is thumbs had been, letting them trail again down your jaw—slower than before, less fevered, more lax. Smirking against you when he bit over a mark he’d already made—earning a sweet gasp from your lips.

“Better?”

His voice took an almost smug cadence, and when you hummed back shy and lazy, lips still parted, satisfied sighs spilling for you. Remus couldn’t help the bubble of light laughter that rumbled in his chest—shaking you on his lap. Messily kissing back up to your lips, smiling against you. Savouring each and second of your moment.

When lunch struck and you strolled into the great hall, hand in hand—you shrunk slightly at the quiet murmurs that sounded as you walked between the benches. It wasn’t that you were together, no, that was normal.

It was the trail of red and pink bruises and hickeys that adorned both your necks—failing miserably to cover it with the collar of your shirt. Remus on the other hand, walked in as confident as ever—squeezing your intertwined fingers reassurance. Wearing his marks like a badge of honour—leaning down to your ear, whispering in a teasing tone,

“At least we’re matching,”

And when you sat down at the table with him, rather than your usual spot two tables across, lolly in hand—after Remus silently shot a look at Sirius that said you better not start. He settled beside you, hands interlocked under the table, his warmth against you, your cold against him, comfortable. Blissfully ignoring the way Sirius muttered “About time,” under his breath.

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imaginespazzi · 1 year ago

Text

Part 5: The Answers We Wait For

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15

I'd go back in time and change it (but I can't)

(In which a writer's busy schedule somehow still had time for her favorite obsession)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining

Words: 7.0K (it's very on-brand that my busiest week would produce the longest chapter)

TW: Swearing (I think that's it?)

A/N: Happy Monday lovelies :) How I managed to pull this off is between me and God at this point but here we are. I know it's been an interesting day to say the least, so I'm hoping me living up to my promises can be a silver lining. Quick note that I already fucked up the timeline at some point and Paige Olivia have actually been divorced for almost 3 years. I'll change that eventually. I actually didn't even try to really edit this chapter and in the choice between editing tomorrow and giving it to y'all today, I chose the latter. So please help a girl out and point out my typos/mistakes if you spot them and I will also eventually go back and edit. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and anything you'd like to see going forwards. Have a lovely week my loves <3

December 2027

Marriage and weddings had never been at the forefront of Paige’s mind. To be completely honest, for most of her life, there wasn’t much occupying her brain other than the court under her feet and the basketball in her hands. But the couple of times she had let herself picture it, she’d always thought that she’d have a Fall wedding, probably in Minnesota, maybe even on a basketball court. An indoor winter wedding in Texas had never once crossed her mind. She’d imagined vibrant fun bouquets made of pink lilies and purple hydrangeas, not the elegant red and white roses arrangements that were currently being placed along a far too heavily decorated aisle. Instead of vintage wines and carefully constructed fancy cocktails, she’d thought it would be nice to have spiked shirley temples and maybe even blue and white jello shots. She had expected to have a quiet ceremony followed by a vivacious gathering of everyone she loved. It had never even occurred to her that her wedding would become a public spectacle with People's magazine in attendance. She’d pictured a party, not an event.

Most of all she’d dreamt of getting married to a girl with dark eyes that could see all of Paige’s flaws and a soft smile that promised she’d love Paige despite them all.

But the thing about dreams is that they’re fleeting trains that travel through the tracks of your mind when you’re asleep, and when you wake up, reality is nothing but a devastating train crash.

Paige sighs, forcing herself out of her own head, as she stares at her reflection in the mirror. She looks pretty. Brittany had found her a nice white wedding suit -fitted to perfection- matching it with dainty silver jewelry. Paige normally liked her outfits a little looser but Olivia loved it and Paige likes that Olivia loves it. Her hair is styled in a bun, with two straightened strands to highlight her face. She thinks she might have preferred to have them curled in the front but Olivia had sweetly insisted on them being straight because hers would be curly and they had to complement, not match. Paige doesn’t really understand the difference or the importance but she thinks if Olivia wants it like that then she's fine with it. She thinks the bold red lipstick heavily coating her mouth makes her look a little bit like a vampire out of a badly directed 90’s horror movie but Olivia had said it was necessary so that the lights and cameras didn’t wash her face out.

Paige looks pretty. She just doesn’t really look like Paige.

“What do you think Drewski?” she asks, twirling to face her stone-faced brother who’s sitting on the couch, with a bout of enthusiasm that rings hollow to her own ears, “do I look gorgeous or what?”

“You look weird,” Drews says stiffly and Paige sighs.

“Dr-” Paige is cut off by her younger brother sauntering over. A confused expression spreads over her features as Drew takes her hand and places it on his forehead, “uh- what are you doing?”

“Paigey, doesn't my forehead feel hot? I feel so sick,” the little boy whines, letting out a series of overzealous dramatized coughs.

“Your forehead feels fine,” Paige says, slowly removing her hand.

“Well of course you’d think that. You’re not a doctor who knows how to feel foreheads correctly. I think we need to go to the hospital to see a real doctor. Like right now,” Drew pulls at Paige’s hand as she begins to catch onto what he’s trying to make happen.

“You’re fine Drew.”

“I’m NOT. I’m very, very, very sick. So we have to leave right now. I could be contagious. I could be a danger to all these people,” Drew’s animated hands start to fly everywhere, “you can’t get married when your little brother’s sick. It’s- it’s just wrong. Bad juju or something like that. Everybody will understand that you just had to call off the wedding. For family reasons.”

“Drew-” Paige tries again, a hard pit settling in her stomach.

“Are you worried cause you didn’t bring your car? That’s okay I’m sure Ice or KK will drive us but you can’t get married today Paigey. You just can’t,” his bottom lip trembles as the façade of illness slips and Paige feels her own eyes start to get glossy, “it’s not right Paigey. This is all wrong. She’s all wrong.”

“It’s not like that Drew. You just haven’t gotten to know-”

“I don’t want to know her,” Drew yells, “you don’t even know her. How can you get married to someone you’ve barely dated for a year. How can you do this to Az-”

“That’s enough,” Paige’s voice is eerily calm, as she digs her fingernails into her palm, “watch how you talk to me-”

“You’re being stup-”

“Drew Thomas I am not going to repeat myself again. Behave yourself. You’re not nearly old enough to be questioning what I do with my life,” it takes every inch of self-control Paige has to not let her voice shake.

Her younger brother’s words feel like acid rain pelting against her already wounded skin. They slip into the gashes, mixing into her bloodstreams to create an army with the battalion of her own thoughts that have been hacking away at her heart for god knows how long. Paige wonders how long it’ll be before she finally bleeds out.

“Please don’t get married Paigey,” Drew pleads, gripping his sister’s hand, “please.”

There’s nothing but silence as Paige opens and closes her mouth. And she doesn’t know if she’s trying to get words out or breathe air in; all she knows is that Drew might be squeezing her hands, but it feels like someone is strangling her lungs.

She’s saved from having to say anything by a hesitant knock on the door. As Drew begrudgingly goes to open it, Paige scrambles to put herself back together. She closes her eyes, taking in three deep breaths before-

Drew gasps and Paige’s eyes fly open. With her back turned to the door, she can’t see who it is and something like hope starts to bloom in her chest, vines of maybe it’s her weaving through her ribcage. And as she turns around, they turn to dust; dust that floats up to her eyes and makes them tear up again as she stares dumbfoundedly at the two people standing somewhat awkwardly in her doorway.

Paige had grown up an independent child. It wasn’t that her parents were neglectful or that they hadn’t loved her enough because they had. But at first it was the constant fighting and then it was the nurturing of a brand new family with new children and Paige had slipped through the cracks of oh she’s so mature we don’t need to worry about her. She had always had her parents as cheerleaders in the stands; no one was prouder of Paige than they were. But no one had bothered to force her to drink terrible tasting immunity boosters. No had patiently dyed her hair purple and pinky promised to like it even if it turned out terrible. No one had yelled at her for being in the gym till one a.m or woken her up at an ungodly hour to run drills. Not until she’d met a girl at 15 and that girl’s parents had decided that Paige was just as much theirs as their own daughter.

And suddenly there were more people added to her cheering squad for her wins. But that’s not when Paige fell in love with Tim and Katie Fudd. It was when she lost and there was a nagging finger followed by a full breakdown of what she could do better next time and finally, a bear hug promising they’d help her do it. They’d been there every step and she’d sent the invitation, scared they wouldn’t show up, that they wouldn’t be there for this step, a step that inadvertently took her further away from them. But here they are anyway.

“Hi sweetheart,” Katie says softly, her own eyes moist as she takes in the sight of the bride, “you look- you look absolutely stunning Paige.”

“You came,” Paige whispers, “I didn’t- I didn’t know if you would.”

“Of course we came,” Tim exclaims but his normal boisterous voice doesn’t feel nearly as enthusiastic, “always told you we’d be front and center at your wedding.”

Because I was supposed to marry your daughter; I was supposed to become your daughter, officially.

“I’m really glad you guys came,” Paige says, letting Katie wrap her into a warm hug. She only gets a second to let herself enjoy it before Drew’s asking a question that makes her stiffen.

“Where’s Azzi?”

It’s like there’s lightning wrapped in that one syllable and it strikes right through Paige’s heart, setting every inch of it ablaze with the flames of a name that used to feel like cotton candy on her tongue; now it feels like lava.

“She couldn’t make it,” Tim says slowly and Paige knows she shouldn’t be surprised, let along disappointed that her ex wasn’t coming but there’s a string that snaps anyways.

“Why not?” Drew asks petulantly.

“The baby’s due next month,” Tim tells him gently, “she can’t fly.”

The air feels suffocating at the mention of the baby. She’d been scrolling mindlessly through her tiktok feed when the announcement had popped up. She still has it memorized.

Golden State Valkyries superstar shooting guard Azzi Fudd announces pregnancy on Instagram; she’ll miss the upcoming WNBA season.

For a moment the world had stopped as Paige had hurriedly switched apps to instagram. And there it was. A smiling picture of Azzi holding a sonogram. Paige doesn’t know how long she’d stared at the picture but she remembers that it was set against a white background and she remembers that Azzi was wearing a green top. And as she’d typed out a congrats! that blended in seamlessly with all the other felicitating comments on the post, Paige had wondered if Azzi had felt it too. She’d wondered if, when Azzi had left a similar congratulations <3 post on Paige’s engagement announcement, she’d felt something unravel too. She’d wondered if Azzi had felt this hollowness of and i guess this is us signing off on never getting forever with each other.

“So Azzi’s not going to stop this wedding?” Drew’s voice is dangerously even as he rounds on Paige, “and you’re really going through with this?”

“Drew please” Paige says tiredly as Katie runs a soothing hand down her back.

“You’re stupid. And she’s stupid. You’re all so freaking stupid,” Drew bursts out, stomping past the adults in the doorway, his anger palpable in every single word.

“I got it,” Tim says, wrapping a wrist around Paige’s hand as she moves to follow her younger brother. He squeezes gently, a half-hearted smile on his face, “it’s gonna be okay kid. It always is.”

Paige wishes she could just believe him, turn off the voices in her head and just be a kid who could take an adult’s word as gospel. But Paige is the adult now and believing no longer comes so naturally.

“Hey,” Katie says after Tim runs after Drew, pulling Paige to sit with her on the couch, “I have a little wedding gift for you.

“Katie you don’t have-” Paige begins, watching as the older woman pulls out a velvet box from her bag, placing her phone on the table next to her.

“Oh hush. I told you I’d give this to you,” Katie chides as she hands the velvet box. Paige’s eyes glisten as she opens it to find a familiar purple amethyst necklace. She’s flooded with the vivid image of her and Azzi on a random day in lockdown helping Katie organize her minimal jewelry. Paige had fallen in love with this necklace and Azzi had her eyes set on a pink topaz. It was fitting to say the least and Katie had promised them, with a glint in her eyes, that she’d give it to them as their something old on their wedding day. They’d been in between something and everything but Paige and Azzi had shared a shy smile over it anyways.

“I can’t accept this,” Paige shakes her head trying to hand the box back but Katie dodges it expertly.

“Yes you can. It’s basically a family heirloom and you, Paige Bueckers, are family,” Katie says firmly.

“Katie-”

The older woman presses a kiss to Paige’s forehead as she starts to head out, “you’re always gonna be family Paige. Always.”

Katie’s words act like a band-aid but they’re not enough- maybe nothing will be enough- to fully heal the wound of today i was supposed to officially become a Fudd.

A ringing noise interrupts Paige’s pity party and she starts half-heartedly digging around for her phone. She’s confused when she finds it because no one’s calling her and the room is still vibrating with noise. Crinkling her eyebrows, Paige’s eyes finally land on the couch side table, where Katie’s phone, clearly forgotten, is buzzing.

Azzi’s CallerID flashes on the screen.

Paige stares at the phone, rooted in place. She knows she shouldn’t pick it up, knows she should go return it. Still without a decision, Paige slowly starts to reach for it. And then it stops ringing and Paige goes still again, unsure if she’s relieved or disappointed. Swallowing, she takes another step. The phone rings again. A myriad of thoughts dance through Paige’s mind, opposing thoughts clashing with each other and making her head hurt. She lies to herself that it’s out of concern; that Azzi’s pregnant and this could be important. She lies to herself as she hits the green answer button that it’s not because she’s desperate to hear Azzi’s voice.

“Mom?” Azzi sounds distraught when she picks up but Paige thinks it’s still her favorite sound any way, “Mom? I think I did something wrong. I can’t do this Mom. You’ve been gone a day and I’ve already fucked up. I don’t know what and I don’t know when but I think I fucked up. Maybe I ate something I wasn’t supposed to. Maybe it’s because I lay on my back instead of my side but Mom she hasn’t kicked all day and I can’t get Dr. Myers on the phone and I-”

“It’s a girl?” Paige breathes out. And suddenly she’s 22, sitting in a UConn apartment living room, grinning foolishly as Jana points out an AI picture that looks like the perfect mixture of her and Azzi. Azzi, who’s having a daughter.

The woman in question is quiet and for a second Paige thinks that Azzi might hang up.

“It’s a girl Paige,” Azzi says finally.

“Are you- are you okay?” Paige asks slowly, trying not to dwell on how much she’s missed the way Azzi says her name. It’s been Bueckers every time they’ve seen each other this year and she’s never hated the sound of her last name more.

“Yeah, I just-” Azzi sighs, her voice still a little frazzled, “I’m just being paranoid cause my Mom’s not here and my doctor’s not answering and the stupid baby hasn’t kicked all day,” she pauses, “sorry. I-I don’t mean to dump on you. Not today at least.”

“Az-”

“Where’s my Mom?”

“She- she’s probably outside. Think she left her phone here by accident. I can go find her but can I-” Paige hesitates, chewing at her lips in a way she knows Olivia hates, “can I help?”

“I don’t think-”

Paige shocks herself with her next words, “put the phone to your stomach.”

“What? Paige, did you hit your head in the last two seconds or something?”

“Just- just trust me,” she’s not really sure what she’s saying but now that she’s said, might as well commit to the bit, “I’mma talk sense into her. I saw it in a movie.”

“You saw it in a-” Azzi sighs and Paige can practically picture her rolling her eyes. “I don’t know who’s more insane. You for coming up with the idea or me because I’mma follow through it,” there’s a bunch of static noise on the other side as Azzi adjusts herself, putting the phone on speaker and pressing it to her belly, “alright Dr. Bueckers work your magic.”

Paige is nervous as she speaks, “hey there little bean. I’m your-” she stops because what is she, “I’m your Paige,” she decides softly, “and I think- I think you should stop stressing your Mama out. She’s a bit of an overthinker so if you could just help her out, I think she’d really appreciate it. Because if- if you don’t she isn’t gonna be able to sleep tonight and you don’t know this yet but when your Mama doesn’t get sleep, she’s kind of a bi-”

“Paige,” Azzi hisses.

“Big baby,” Paige corrects, “she’s a big baby. And then she cries and it’s not a pretty sight-”

“Hey!”

“Sshhh Azzi I’m working my magic,” Paige scolds, “where was I? Oh yeah. She cries and it’s not a pretty sight because,’ her voice softens, “seeing your Mama cry is the worst thing in the world. I hate it and I know- I know you’re gonna hate it too because when you finally come out little bean, the first thing you’re gonna see is your Mama’s smile. And you’re gonna think it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. Just like I do,” a sob escapes on the other end of the line and Paige feels tears start to cascade down her own cheeks, “come on little bean, give us a little kick. Make your Mama smile.”

Time ticks by slowly and Paige closes her eyes, thinking maybe her desperate attempt to keep Azzi on the line had failed miserably. And then Azzi gasps, “she kicked. Oh my god Paige she kicked.”

Paige’s grin stretches her whole face and for a second it almost feels like she’s right there with Azzi, that instead of her ear being pressed to a phone, it’s pressed to Azzi’s belly. For a second she almost feels like she can feel the baby kicking. And then she opens her eyes.

“Did it make you smile?”

“Yeah, yeah it did,” Azzi admits and Paige can hear the relief in her voice.

“I’m glad- I’m glad you have something that makes you smile.”

“Do you?” Azzi sucks in a sharp breath, “do you have someone that makes you smile?”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” and it’s not a complete lie. Olivia does make Paige smile. And maybe it’s not quite as big or bright or real but at least Olivia’s here to try.

“Good. I-I’m also really glad you have that.”

“You are?”

“Of course I am Paige,” Azzi says quietly, “I want you to smile. I just- I just want you to be happy. Are you happy Paige?”

“I’m getting married today,” Paige says in lieu of an answer and she can hear Azzi’s breath hitch.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is. It’s a yes or no question,” Azzi presses.

“Then you answer it Azzi,” Paige bites out, “are you happy?”

“I”m-,” the younger girl lets out a sigh, “I’m content.”

Her answer makes Paige’s skin itch with irritation and she can’t stop it from seeping into her next question, “so you have no regrets then?”

“I didn’t say that,” there’s a warning edge to Azzi’s voice.

“Do you or do you not regret saying no to marrying me Azzi?” Paige asks, unable to hold it in any longer.

“Paige-”

“What? You gonna say it’s not that simple? It’s a yes or no question Azzi,” Paige mocks.

“That’s not it-”

“Then what is?”

“You’re getting married Paige,” Azzi yells, “you’re getting married,” she repeats again, softer this time, “to someone else. And so it doesn’t matter how I feel. It isn’t fair of you to ask and it wouldn’t- it wouldn’t be fair of me to answer. Not today. Maybe one day- one day it'll be the right time but not today.”

“And what if it’s never the right time?”

“Then maybe it’s a question you were never meant to know the answer to.”

There’s something final in the quietness that follows, like they’re having a moment of silence at a funeral for what never even got to be.

It’s Azzi who speaks first.

“You’re gonna be a wonderful wife P.”

“You’re gonna be an amazing mom Az.”

They let it left unsaid that they were supposed to be wives to each other, that they were supposed to be moms together.

***

March 2033

Paige doesn’t know how long she stands outside, staring down the winding road that had taken Stephie and Azzi away from her. The neighborhood is slowly waking up and if the woman across the street opens her curtains and thinks it’s a little strange that her new neighbor is standing like a statue on her front porch, she only raises a slight eyebrow before going back to her day. It takes almost twenty minutes before her head finally convinces her heart that no matter how much she stands outside, they’re not coming back.

There’s a part of her that can admit that maybe Azzi had a point and maybe she shouldn’t have asked her to stay over last night. But Paige has never been known for her common sense, especially not when it comes to Azzi. Because truth be told, asking Azzi to stay the night was perhaps the least ridiculous of the thoughts that had invaded her mind last night. It was easy- too easy- to fall right back into whatever with Azzi. She’d done a good job pretending that the nightly facetime calls had been for Stephie’s benefit but the truth is that they had become just as much a necessity for Paige. She’d fallen asleep with a smile on her face every night and the temptation to have that in person last night had been too hard to resist. And so she hadn’t.

She makes it about three steps up the stairs, when the fort still set up in the living room catches her eye. And that’s when the first tear falls, and then the second and then the third until she thinks if she tried to swim in them, she’d probably drown. Paige abandons the idea of going up to her room and crawls back into the tent made of blankets. And she must be going insane because she swears she can still smell the faint scent of a toddler and Azzi’s lavender perfume on the pillow she cradles to her chest. It’s ridiculous to be so attached already. She knows that. Stephie isn’t hers but it feels like the little girl has crept underneath her skin, burrowing herself in a part of Paige’s heart that the blond didn’t even know was there. And Azzi- well no matter how long it’s been, no matter how much resentment Paige has held, the truth is that there’s a little patch of Paige’s soul that will always belong to the younger woman.

Paige barely registers herself falling asleep until there’s abrupt knocking on her door and she realizes she’s been cocooned in the fort for almost three hours. She hesitantly lets go of the pillow, groggily walking towards the door. It’s useless to pretend that she isn’t hoping it’s Azzi and Stephie on the other side, isn’t hoping that Azzi had realized her mistake, isn’t hoping to scoop both of them into her arms and fill the hollowness that’s been thrumming against her ribcage. God Paige has barely survived a month -a day if she’s completely honest- she doesn’t know how she’s going to survive this whole season.

She crosses her fingers behind her back as she opens the door.

“Hey,” Katie’s smiling face looks back at her, holding up a tray of coffee and a bag of something, “figured you haven’t eaten breakfast yet?”

Paige blinks stupidly as Katie lets herself in, moving through Paige’s house with ease and immediately locating the kitchen. She hands Paige a cup of coffee before ransacking through the bag and pulling out a glazed donut, “eat. I know you haven’t.”

“Does Azzi know you’re here?” Paige asks slowly before taking a bite out of her donut.

Katie gives her pointed look, “who do you think gave me your address?”

“Is she- is she okay?”

“You two are something you know,” Katie shakes her head, “you’re asking me if she’s okay and she sent me over here to make sure that you were okay.”

Paige feels her heart swell with after all this time, “she sent you?”

“I have breakfast with Azzi and Stephie every Sunday morning. Now imagine my surprise when I get there today and my oh so sweet and wonderful granddaughter isn’t talking to her mother. And so I forced the story out of Azzi and I barely understood a word she was saying through her tears-”

“She was crying?” Paige feels her lungs constrict.

Katie shoots her an unimpressed look, “can I finish the story?”

“I don’t like this story. It has Azzi crying.”

“Yeah well the two of you seem to enjoy doing that to each other,” Katie cocks an unamused eyebrow and Paige flinches at the truth of it, “anyways I didn’t understand much of it but she was clear by the end. Seemed to think you needed someone, needed me and so here I am Paige.”

“Why is your daughter like this?” Paige demands, “how is she gonna make me cry and then send somebody else to wipe my tears.”

“Well I can leave-”

“Why couldn’t she just have stayed?” the blonde questions, “why does she always have to overthink things and make it more complicated? Why can’t she just listen to her heart once in her fucking life? Why can’t she just let herself live? Why is it always no with her and never just yes?”

Katie gives Paige a sad smile, reaching for her hand, “that’s why.”

“Please don’t speak in riddles. It’s 10 a.m and I’m sad,” Paige whines. She might be in her early thirties but there’s something about Katie Fudd that makes Paige feel like it’s okay to be a bit of a child.

“Why is it always no with her and never yes?” Katie repeats, “c’mon Paige you know that’s not about last night.”

“It is,” Paige argues stubbornly.

“It’s not,” Katie says, gently squeezing Paige’s hand, “it’s about her saying no 8 years ago.”

“I’m ov-” Paige stops, withering under Katie’s glare, “okay maybe it’s a little bit about her saying no 8 years ago. But I’m allowed to still be upset about it. She broke my heart. I wanted forever and she walked away. I’m allowed to be mad about that.”

“Of course you’re allowed to be mad Paige but that’s exactly why Azzi had to go this morning. And it’s exactly why you shouldn’t have asked her to stay last night. You guys can’t just pretend none of it happened because it did. You’re still hurt Paige and ignoring that is gonna get you guys nowhere. Especially with Stephie involved.”

“So what are you saying? You’re saying me and Azzi should just be teammates? You’re saying I should just never see Stephie again,” even the thought of it makes Paige feel like she is laying down on a bed of thorns.

“You’re so goddamn dramatic Bueckers,” Katie rolls her eyes, “I’m not saying any of that. I’m saying maybe you just need to take it slower, with both of them, instead of having a goddamn sleepover the literal first night you’re in the same city. Besides,” Katie gives her a knowing smirk, “my granddaughter is obsessed with her Miss Buecks. Pretty sure she’d find a way to see you again no matter what.”

“Good,” Paige lets out her first smile of the day, “because I’d find a way to see her again too. She just- she’s kinda great isn’t she? Azzi did a good job with that one. She’s- she’s perfect,” she looks at Katie who’s regarding Paige with a thoughtful expression, “what? Do I have donut glaze on my face?”

“No, no it just- I’ve seen that expression before.”

“What expression?”

“The one you just had on your face while talking about Stephie,” Katie laughs to herself, “it’s the same one Tim had when he first met Azzi.”

***

“Oh my god. It’s Paige Bueckers. Can I have your autograph?” Steph Curry winks at Paige as she walks into his office. The Golden State legend had started an after-school basketball camp for kids in the Bay Area and as soon as he’d heard the news of Paige coming over to the Valkyries, he’d messaged her if she’d be interested in helping him out in the off-season. Paige had been more than willing to be a part of it, always invested in giving back to her community. If she’d been excited by the idea before though, today, after the worst sleep of her night as she tossed and turned to the hopeless depression of not having spoken to Stephie and Azzi for far too long, Paige really needed this distraction.

“Don’t think you can afford my autograph,” Paige smirks lazily as she basically droops into the seat opposite him.

Steph laughs goodnaturedly, “welcome to the Bay Area kid.”

“I’m a little old to be called a kid don’t you think? I’m nearly 25,” Paige grins, wiggling her eyebrows..

Steph shakes his head, “nah you’re always gonna be a kid to me. You and Azzi both,” he chuckles to himself, “even though Azzi’s got her own kid now. Have you met her?”

Well that distraction lasted 30 seconds, Paige thinks to herself as she forces a smile onto her face, “yeah. I’ve seen her around.”

“She’s cute as hell right? And she knows it. Little miss bossy pants has everyone wrapped around her fingers. Kinda reminds me of Riley,” there’s a goofy expression as Steph thinks of his daughter and Paige wonders if the same one is reflected on her face as she thinks about Stephie, “and she’s a natural at basketball. Only five and her shot’s already pretty good. You’ll see it today when she comes to camp. And she’s pretty good at defense-”

“I’m sorry what?” Paige blinks rapidly.

“I know. What defense can a 5 year old play but it’s just the way she moves you know?” Steph tries to explain and Paige shakes her head.

“Not that. Stephie- Stephie’s coming to camp?”

Steph grins large and proud, “of course she is. She was the first camper I signed.”

“Right,” Paige nods, giving the man in front of her a tight smile, “can you- can you excuse me for one second.”

As soon as Paige is outside of Steph’s earshot, she’s calling Katie; Katie who had sat at her kitchen counter yesterday and listened with a smile as Paige told her all about Steph’s camp. Katie who hadn’t said one word about Stephie being a part of said camp. Katie who was maybe grinning just a little too hard at the idea.

“Did you know Stephie goes to Curry Camp?” Paige asks as soon as the line connects.

“Hi Katie. Hi Paige. How was your day? Oh mine was good Paige, thanks for asking, how was yours?” Katie replies sarcastically.

“Katie,” Paige groans.

“Did I know that my granddaughter goes to her godfather’s special camp for the sport that her mother plays and she’s obsessed with?” Katie says slowly and Paige can tell she’s holding back a laugh, “nope, didn’t have a clue.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“And ruin the surprise?”

“What happened to telling me to take things slow?” Paige hisses.

“Well if I left the two of you two to your own devices y’all wouldn’t go slow, you wouldn’t even move at all,” Katie defends.

“So you’re meddling?”

“I am not,” Katie protests, “you were always gonna help with the camp and Stephie’s already been going to the camp. I just didn’t let you stress out about it. Really you should be thanking me.”

“Thank you Katie,” Paige bites out mockingly.

“You’re so very welcome Paige,” Katie sing-songs, “by the way, come over for dinner soon okay sweetheart. Love you honey. See you later darling.”

She hangs up before Paige can say anything and the blonde saunters back into Steph’s office, trying to corral her facial expression into something more neutral.

“All good?” Steph asks.

“Just peachy,” Paige hums in response, “we gonna head over to the court soon? It’s almost 4.”

Steph nods, “yeah they’ll be done setting up for us. Azzi usually brings Stephie to say hi to me right before cause no favoritism in front of the other kids you know? But maybe she’s running la- oh no wait there they are!”

Paige freezes, heartbeat erratic, as Steph walks to the door in anticipation.

“UNCLE TWIN,” Stephie screams and something in Paige’s heart starts to fix itself at the sound of the younger girl’s voice. She’s scared to turn around, unsure if she’s more scared to realize it’s a dream or find out that it’s reality.

“TWIN NIECE,” Steph yells back with equal vigor and Paige can hear Azzi’s laugh now too, each giggle acting like a needle, stitching up the parts of Paige that had felt broken since yesterday morning. She turns around deliberately slowly. Stephie is cradled in Steph’s arms and Azzi’s watching them with a fond smile. And it’s ridiculous to be jealous of a happily married man who’s practically Azzi’s brother if not her uncle, but the sense of that should be me, weighs heavily on Paige’s lungs anyways.

It’s Azzi who sees her first, smile slowly fading as dark brown eyes clash with light blue ones.

“Paige,” she whispers softly and there’s a multitude of undecipherable emotions wrapped in that one syllable and Paige thinks she could spend forever just trying to uncover them.

Stephie’s ear perks up at the mention of Paige’s name as her own little eyes finally land on the blonde, shuffling her feet nervously in the corner. Her bottom lip trembles, eyes watering as she forces herself down from Steph’s lap, racing to Paige. It’s instinct the way Paige falls to her knees, ready to catch the bundle of limps that practically falls into her waiting arms.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whimpers, “I missed you so much.”

Paige’s own eyes water as she buries her face in Stephie’s hair, “me too sweetheart. I missed you so, so, so much.”

In front of them, Steph looks beyond confused as to what's happening and Azzi’s determinedly looking away, even if there’s a lone tear waterfalling down her left cheek.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” Stephie confesses, voice choked up as she tightens her grip on Paige’s neck, “and I begged and I begged Mama to let me call you but she said you were busy. And then I yelled at Mama and it made Mama cry too and I hate making Mama cry.”

“I know. I know sweetheart,” Paige soothes softly, running her hands down Stephie’s back as the little girl continues to babble. They stay like that for a long time and Paige thinks if she could ask the world for one thing that doesn’t belong to her, she’d ask for Stephie.

Finally Steph coughs, looking apprehensively between the three girls in the room, “so um- I take it you’ve more than just seen Stephie around then Paige?”

Paige lets out a watery laugh, finally letting Stephie go and turning around but still keeping a hand on Stephie’s shoulder, “yeah I guess that’s true.”

“What are you doing here Miss Buecks,” Stephie asks, looking up at Paige.

“I’m uh- well Mr. Steph-”

“Uncle Twin,” Stephie corrects immediately and Paige can’t help but grin at the nickname.

“Right. Uncle Twin asked me to be a coach at his camp and I agreed,” Paige explains, trying to catch Azzi’s eyes but the shooting guard seems determined to focus on a picture of Steph and Ayesha on the wall instead.

“You’re gonna be my coach,” Stephie squeals, turning around to hug Paige’s knees, “this is the best news of my life.”

Paige feels her heart soar into a sky of you’re the best new of my life Stephie as she bends down to kiss Stephie forehead, “let’s see if you say that when I make you run laps after you miss a shot.”

“You wouldn’t?” Stephie says, looking horrified at the idea.

“I totally would,” Paige teases.

Stephie is quiet for a second before a proud smirk blooms on her lips, “that’s okay ‘cause I don’t miss. I’m Azzi Fudd’s daughter. Right Mama?”

“Right baby,” Azzi says, finally letting herself meet Paige’s gaze.

“Well Miss-I-Don’t-Miss, how about you walk over to the court and show us how you don’t miss,” Steph teases.

Stephie waddles out of Paige’s grip and holds her arms up at Steph, a saccharine smile on her face,“I can’t be tired if I don’t wanna miss Uncle Twin, so can you please carry me over there?”

Steph rolls his eyes but it doesn’t stop him from hoisting Stephie onto his shoulders, “alright your highness, let’s go.”

Stephie’s giggles echoe down the hall as Steph runs towards the courts and Paige can’t help the fond laugh that escapes her.

“She gets that from you, you know,” Paige says softly to Azzi.

“Gets what?”

“Being a princess who gets everything she wants.”

“Not everything,” Azzi says wistfully, “not everything I want.”

She moves to start following but Paige wraps a hand around her wrist, “I didn’t know Stephie was a part of Curry Camp. I swear I- I didn’t do this on purpose.”

Azzi sighs, “I know. I know you wouldn’t Paige.”

“And I- I wanted to thank you for sending your Mom yesterday. I really- I really did need it even if I didn’t know it,” Paige’s thumb subconsciously rubs against Azzi’s skin, “but you- you always seem to know what I need.”

Azzi rips her hand out from Paige's grip, “you’re doing it again.”

“I’m not-”

“Yes you are. You keep saying things like that- things you shouldn’t say- things I can’t just listen to and be okay,” Azzi brushes her hand against her face, “I know the way I left yesterday was wrong and maybe I was projecting,” she admits in a whisper, “but you just- you make me feel too fucking much. And it's too quick and it’s scares me.”

“Scares you?” Paige scoffs, “I’m not the one who broke your heart Azzi.”

“You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I’ve lived with that guilt for the last 8 years? Jesus fucking christ Paige. I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of me,” tears stream down Azzi’s face as she paces the room, “I have never heard Stephie cry so fucking much in my life Paige. And you know who did that to her? Me, I did that. Apparently I’m really fucking good at making people cry but I don’t want to. I don’t want to break her heart, I don’t want to break your heart and I don’t want to break my own heart. Not again.”

“Azzi-”

“And so I’m stopping it before it happens. Before I ruin it again.”

Azzi tries to leave again but Paige is faster, wrapping her arms around the younger woman’s waist and pulling her flush against her chest so she can’t escape. It’s a terrible idea because now all of her senses are consumed by Azzi as they both become acutely aware of how close they are now.

“Paige,” Azzi whispers weakly, one hand pressed right against Paige’s heart, “let me go.”

“I think today’s the right time,” Paige says softly, hands grazing Azzi’s waist, “I asked you a question once and you said one day, when the time was right, you’d give me an answer. It’s the right time.”

“I don’t think so-”

“Azzi please,” Paige begs, “do you regret saying no?”

“Paige let me go,” Azzi wriggles against her grip but it only makes Paige tighten her hold.

“It’s a simple yes or no question.’

“Stephie’s probably wondering where we are-”

“Then answer the damn question and we can go to her-”

“Paige please.”

“Answer the fucking question Azzi.”

“What do you want me to say?” Azzi bursts out finally, “you want me to say that I’ve never regretted anything more in my life? You want me to say the minute I said no, I wanted to rip out my tongue? You want me to say that I almost called you several times in the last decade to tell you how stupid I was? You want me to say that I flew to Dallas once to tell you that I fucked up but then I saw you with Olivia and decided you deserved better than me-”

“What?” Paige feels the air being snatched from her lungs.

“The answer to your stupid fucking question,” Azzi’s voice breaks, “is yes. Yes I regret saying no to you Paige. But it doesn’t matter. Because I said no and you found someone else who’d say yes and now it’s too late.”

And Paige thinks that Katie was probably right, that she should probably take things slow. But when it comes to Azzi Fudd, Paige Bueckers has never been one to do what she should.

“It’s never too late for us,” Paige whispers before crashing her lips against the woman, who’s always been the reason for her biggest, brightest, most real smile.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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nightingale2004 · 9 months ago

Text

Severus Snape headcanon ideas

He has a journal that was gifted to him by his mother before he went to Hogwarts.

He writes everything in that journal. His thoughts, his feelings, ideas for potions, and spells, along with poetry. He even does little sketches in the journal (they're not half bad)

Ever since the marauders entered his life and his own house doesn't like him all that much, halfway through his first year at hogwarts, he casted a bunch of spells and runes on his journal so that way no one other than himself can open or see what is written inside the journal

The first page is titled "Property of the half-blood prince."

Severus never goes anywhere without it. He also casted a charm on it so that way whenever it's stolen or missing from his person, it will appear right next to him, in his bag, or in his hand

His journal also had dried plants and flowers from his journeys through the forbidden forest

The journal is very old and is held together by magic, pure determination, spite, and a dream (😂). Plus, he cherishes that journal

No one (I do mean NO ONE) has ever seen the inside of Severus's journal, including the marauders, his parents (his mother one time was granted access), his house mates, and even Lily

He once had an old walkman that he found in the streets and managed to fix it up from remembering, seeing how his father used to fix up machinery before the abuse

When he has a train compartment to himself, he immediately falls asleep (it's his only moment of peace!!!!!)

He secretly found the room of requirements that turns into a potions lab for him. He uses it for potion experiments

His experiments with potions have both literally and figuratively blown up in his face.

Would talk with the paintings of Hogwarts

Would find jewelry in the most random places and often wear some of them after he resizes them and cleans them

He loves dark and milk chocolate, along with raisins, and vanilla

Learned occlumency and legilimens very early in his Hogwarts years and has used it on more than one occasion

When he was a child, he couldn't dance to save his life, but McGonagall taught him everything she knew

He and McGonagall play wizards chess together

Before the bullying started, he secretly wanted to be James and Sirius's friend, but after they insulted his mother's house, that thought immediately vanished

Despite being very skinny, he throws an incredibly strong punch

If he did have an animagus form, it would either be a raven, crow, cat, or bat

He would brew health potions for the sick people in Cokeworth or those who couldn't afford decent medicine or medical attention. He became their young doctor and gets paid a bit on the side

Has done a lot of odd jobs in Cokeworth to help keep his home afloat

Whenever Tobias would kick him out, he would originally crash at the Evans home, but ever since the 'Mudblood' incident, he started crashing at some of the people he helped at Cokeworth's homes

He would wish he was born into the Evans family instead of the Snape family

Loves art and poetry

Has read chemistry books at the Muggle Library

He learned how to cook and bake when he was a kid

After the 'Prank' incident, he and Remus talked and have kinda sorta made amends, but there is still a wall (and rightfully so)

He loves science fiction, dark romance, romance, adventure, tragedy, poetry, fiction, horror, Gothic literature, action, and mystery, both films and books (mostly books)

Secretly loves the story of Hades and Persephone.

Will make Blancmange every Christmas at Hogwarts (hphm made this canon)

He has tried to deny rumors about him being in love with Lily and him being a vampire or a bat, but it came to a point where he was done and didn't care

His scent would be herbs, flowers, old books, and rain

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brittle-doughie · 4 months ago

Note

(There is a lot of cookies, I can't write them all so there is going to be examples of few cookies instead)

Cream Ferret Cookie ratings of cookies

Living, breathing Embodiment of Green Flag, can completely trust them 10/10 Cream Ferret wished for little one to marry someone like them (Pure Vanilla, Rockstar, Herb, Milk, Caramel Arrow)

A bit flawed, but Cream Ferret knows that they care for little one and will protect them until the end (Dark Cacao, Purple Yam, Golden Cheese, Hollyberry)

Er? Are you sure you want this one? They are not bad, but Cream Ferret feels like they could do better. (Vampire, Madeleine, Royal Margarine)

Conflicted at this one, at one side, they completely care about little one, on other side, they obviously have a ton of issues they need to work with. (Werewolf, Dark Choco, White Lily, Licorice)

You know those bad girls/boys/gn that your parents hate because they think they would be a bad influence on you? Yeah, it's basically these ones (Chilli Pepper, Twizzly Gummy, Roguefort)

Red Flag, red flag! Nope! Bad influence! Stay away! (Pomegranate, Affogato, Black Forest, Butter Roll)

That's not a red flag, that's straight up a crimson beacon! Little one, you weren't threaten or brainwashed, are you!? (Beast Cookies, Dark Enchantress, basically any villainous cookie.)

Anything below the first two is probably going to be a no from Cream Ferret, you’ll need 100% trust from them if you want to pursue something with Y/N Cookie.

Oh and fighting the league of seven evil exes

#brittle answers #cookie run x reader #cookie run x you

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oliversrarebooks · 11 days ago

Text

The Rare Bookseller Part 103: Fitz's Escape

Previous > Masterlist > Next

tw: mind control, blood drinking, suicidal ideation

December 1925

"Killing the old man at his own party is a crazy idea. You're a madman."

"I'm desperate," said Fitz. "But you're calling me a madman when you're the one who's made a thrall out of a witch and a hunter."

"She's a prestige acquisition, don't you think?" Lily stroked her new thrall's hair, and she looked up at her madam with nothing but love in her eyes. Leave it to Lily to be confident enough in her enthrallment skills to keep a hunter by her side. Fitz certainly could understand the appeal, though. The enticing smell of her blood was a drain on his self-control, and turning a hunter into a docile little thing was a nice trick.

"She'd be worth a fortune, I expect. I'm surprised you're not selling her."

"There are some things more important than profit, even to me. I wanted to make sure she ended up with someone who properly appreciated her."

"I think our Lily has become quite attached despite herself," said Lex with a grin.

"I think you're right," said Fitz. "Isn't that what you've always warned us about?"

Lily scoffed. "I'm not unnecessarily attached, I just know good value when I see it. Now are you going to carve the rune or not?"

"Excuse me for being reluctant to drive a silver knife into my arm." Of course, that was the entire reason why Lily and Vivian were here, so that Fitz could test out the modifications to the rune. If everything went well, he'd be immune to his sire's powers, a theory they could test right away with Lex. If not, then both Lex and Lily would both be at the mercy of the Maestro's compulsions, making it next to impossible for them to kill him.

For all his big talk about the plans, though, he really did not look forward to how much this was going to hurt. The silver knife seared his flesh as soon as he touched it to his forearm, the sudden pain nearly causing him to drop it. It took all of his willpower, gritted teeth and embarrassingly pained noises for him to actually persist in carving out the rune. As he did so, Vivian sat up from Lily's lap, watching Fitz's progress intently.

"It's done," he said, gasping and panting.

Lex didn't congratulate him, though. Instead, he looked very sour.

"What's wrong? Are you worried about going an hour without being able to enthrall me? I promise I won't take advantage of it in any way you won't like."

Truthfully, Fitz's feelings on the matter were far more complicated than he'd like to admit. He'd forbidden Lex from enthralling him without permission as an attempt to establish his own presence as a vampire, and Lex had mostly respected it, as far as Fitz knew. But sometimes Fitz would just as soon be happy to let Lex plunge him into blissful unawareness. He wanted to ask Lex to do it, sometimes, but he had his pride. He was a vampire in his own right now and he didn't need Lex to sing him to sleep.

And if he did indulge himself too far, if he did become accustomed to allowing Lex to take away his thoughts, he might never return from it.

"It's nothing," said Lex, blatantly dodging the question, uncharacteristically irritated. "Let's complete the experiment."

Lex sang, a beautiful perfect clear note, and the already burning cuts on Fitz's arm seemed to sear into him. Fitz wanted to say that it hurt and ask if that meant it was working, but his voice failed him. There was nothing, nothing in the world but the song and its singer. He wanted to shut his eyes. He did so.

"Fitz? Fitz, wake."

His eyes snapped open. He was still sitting up, and he felt groggy. "What -- was I asleep?"

"Soundly asleep," said Lex. "It appears that rune configuration is a failure."

"It should be me to do the deed, sirs," Vivian blurted out, and all turned to look at her. "The rune works for me, and I have experience killing vampires. I've been training my entire life for the chance to kill this wretched monster."

"No," said Lex firmly. "We've tried before with hunters, experienced ones, and it was an abject failure. As skilled as hunters can be, they inevitably lack a vampire's speed and strength."

"But, sir --"

"Hush. It's too dangerous," said Lily. "And I will need you to protect me if things go sideways. Isn't that enough of a role?"

"Madam…" Vivian's brow furrowed. "I could best protect you by carrying out my duty and destroying the Maestro."

"None of that. Lex is right. A hunter won't be enough. Lex can draw close to his sire without arousing suspicion, as well." Lily stroked her hair, trying to soothe her agitated pet, and Fitz couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy. "Now, where do you think we've gone wrong with the protective rune?"

Vivian's mouth opened and closed. She clearly wasn't over the conversation, but she seemed too conditioned to put up much of a fight against her madam. Fitz knew Lily's talents firsthand, and knew how easy it was for her to wrap a human mind around her fingers. That had been him, once.

"The part we were most uncertain about is here," said Vivian, pointing to one of the symbols in Fitz's still-bleeding skin. "It's possible that our substitution of 'vampire' is in the wrong location, or in the wrong dialect. I think the next best thing to try…"

Soon enough, Fitz was carving another agonizing rune into his arm. Soon enough, he was unconscious and disoriented once more. Another failure.

They tried several times, Lex simmering in frustration as Lily grew impatient. Fitz was growing impatient himself. He was running out of room on his arms, and every inch of them burned. The wounds made him crave blood to heal himself, and the hunter smelled delicious, but he knew better than to lay a hand on her without Lily's blessing. The pain and the craving were driving his rational thoughts away. What would happen if they couldn't make the protective rune work on a vampire? Would Lex chance it anyway, hoping to catch his sire off guard? Or would they have Vivian attempt the deed, despite Lex's insistence that she shouldn't?

Would they fail again, and leave Fitz to be stripped of himself once more? He shuddered.

Lex sang his lullaby once more, and the rune burned, and…

Fitz looked up at Lex in surprise. He was still awake, somehow. "Are you running out of steam?"

Lex shook his head, brow furrowing, as he sang with more urgency. Fitz could hear the command in it, trying to lull him asleep, and yet here he was, eyes wide open. Could it actually be working? It seemed too much to hope for. Emboldened by the possibility of success, Fitz tackled Lex to the floor.

"Gotcha."

Stormy eyes bore into Fitz as Lex pulled him close, sang in his ear, and the rune carved into his arm hurt so much, but he kept resisting. Every moment he could keep resisting was a moment that Lex might be able to hold out against his sire, improving their chances of finally killing the old man. He shoved Lex away and rolled, standing up again. "You had better not be toying with me, Lex. Give me everything you've got."

The wave of enthrallment that washed over Fitz was dizzying, enticing him to sink back into sweet oblivion, but he still held out.

"We might actually do this," said Lily in awe. "We might truly pull this off."

It was definitely too much to hope for. He couldn't bear the thought of being captured by the Maestro for good, having his memories and personality obliterated and descending into an eternal hell. Yet he also couldn't bear the opposite thought, the thought that they might win, the thought that there could be a future.

Fitz remained numb to the possibility even as Lily cheered and Vivian clapped his back, even as Lex pulled him into his arms and kissed him. Oh, he maintained an outward show of cheer and good humor. It wouldn't help to pull everyone else down, and acting was always his forte, after all.

After Lily and Vivian had departed, satisfied at the accomplishment, Lex's mood dropped too. He flopped onto one of the overstuffed couches, beckoning for Fitz to join him, and Fitz wasted no time slotting himself into Lex's arms. Even after all these years and all that had happened, Fitz still felt safer there than anywhere.

"There's something very important I must ask of you before we carry out this plan," Lex murmured.

"What is it?"

"If I fail -- and I don't want to argue about this -- if I fail, I want you to take Oliver with you and escape as far as you can go."

"What on earth for?" Fitz asked. "What escape? We both know that there's no escape from him."

"We don't know that, not for sure. After all, he let you go overseas for years. He may not care to pursue you, once he has me at his mercy."

Fitz scoffed. "He'd never let anyone truly escape him for good. Not me, and especially not Oliver."

"But both you and Oliver can use the rune. You may be able to use it to prevent me from compelling either of you. Without me, he has no direct hold over you. He may be counting on being able to control you, and not realize he can't until it's too late for him to catch you."

"Seems like a long shot." Of course, it wasn't the risk that made Fitz want to reject Lex's request. It was the potential loss of his sure way out. If he were responsible for Oliver, if he were forced to make an escape attempt in earnest, he couldn't simply stake himself in the event of failure.

"I don't want you to kill yourself."

Fitz looked up, startled. "I wasn't --"

"I know you. I know you'd rather take your own life than be under my sire's control again." Lex's finger traced a pattern along Fitz's collarbone, close to the place where his old scar was. "But don't, for my sake, if not for your own. You deserve better than a lonely death. You deserve a chance to shine on the stage. To live without fear."

"Mm."

"And if you do make it, you can drink your fill of Oliver's blood. He's a good thrall who would serve you very well. He'd get along with Roger, too. You could make a good life for yourself, far away from here. From me."

Fitz pushed Lex away, standing up abruptly. "I need blood. I'm going to go feed."

"Right now? Are you okay? I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset. I just carved half a dozen runes into my skin, and I need blood to heal. I'll be back."

"All right." Lex looked wounded as Fitz retreated from the library.

He threw on his coat and shoes and made his way outside into the cold night air, looking up at the moon. The wind was crisp and smelled of damp earth.

And if he were taken by the Maestro again, there would be no more night air, no more moon, no more wind. No pleasure in any form, not even in his own mind, as even his dreams would be tightly controlled. He'd much rather die as himself, die while he still had some happiness left. Sometimes he wished he would have died before he was taken by the Maestro so many years ago, when he was still human and still remembered what the sun felt like and food didn't taste like ash.

It would be easier if he hated Lex, and Oliver too. He could easily deny Lex's selfish request, if he did. He could abandon Oliver, his replacement, and leave him to meet an awful fate. It wasn't his business. Lex should have never taken such a desirable thrall in the first place.

Of course, he couldn't hate either of them. He was drawn to Lex no matter how he thrashed against the desire, and every time he returned to his old lover, he was reminded all over again how good it felt to be wanted. Lex wanted him in a way no human could, vampiric need shining in his eyes, and he was the only one who could truly quiet Fitz's mind and give him peace. It was addictive, intoxicating, and although Fitz wasn't sure if he could love as a vampire (or if he ever could have loved as a human), this mutual possessiveness was probably as close as he could come.

And he couldn't hate Oliver, even though Fitz burned with jealousy at his replacement. He was too delightful, the ideal thrall, and he smelled so nice and took to enthrallment so well and reminded him so much of what Lex might have been as a human… no, he didn't truly want to abandon Oliver to be destroyed by the Maestro. It was a fate he wouldn't wish on anyone, much less this dusty, nervous intellectual who looked as if a strong wind could blow him away.

So his only choice left was to hate himself, and that was thankfully easy.

There weren't many people out at this time of night, well after midnight and edging close to morning, but he could still pick up a few scents on the breeze. The most enticing of those scents led him to an exhausted looking man in coveralls, probably returning home from a night shift at a factory. The smell of metal and grease couldn't block out the aroma of his blood, especially when Fitz was so famished.

"Hello," said Fitz, wasting no time at all to invade this man's space, grabbing one wrist and planting his other hand on the man's cheek.

The man tried to back up, but found he was held fast by Fitz's strong grip. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded. "If you're trying to rob me, you're going to be disappointed. I'm flat broke."

"Shhh." Fitz placed a finger across his victim's lips, tilting his gaze up to meet his eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm a friend."

"A… a friend…?" The enthralling touch was clearly having an effect on this unsuspecting human, his eyes already starting to glaze over. Tired humans always made such easy targets. "I don't… I don't know you…"

"You don't need to worry about it." Fitz stroked his cheek tenderly, pouring his power into the poor man's defenseless mind, infusing him with bliss. He was rewarded with a dazed smile. "That's it, just relax. Let yourself feel good. It's been a long night, and you deserve to feel good, just like this."

The man nodded dreamily, slipping easily under Fitz's spell. Satisfied that the human was subdued, Fitz pulled him into a dark alley, away from any prying eyes, and backed the man against the wall. He didn't even try to struggle -- an easy mark. That was just as well as far as Fitz was concerned.

"Nothing's wrong, nothing at all," he whispered in the hypnotized man's ear. "You're going to feel even better when I feed."

"Feed…?"

"Shh, shh, nothing to worry about. Just enjoy yourself." Normally Fitz would draw this out more, enjoy playing with the cute defenseless human, but he was absolutely starving. He wrenched the man's shirt collar to the side, ripping it a bit in the process, and sank his fangs in. Deep relief flowed through Fitz as he satisfied his urges, the pain from the carvings on his arms lessening, his anxious monologue fading. At times like this he wished he could drink forever, keep filling himself up with a human's blood until he felt full and complete and human again himself.

He drank too much, of course. The poor soul collapsed to the filthy ground as soon as Fitz was done with him. Fitz licked the last of the blood from his lips, leaning against the wall. It wasn't as satisfying as Roger's blood, but then Roger was a top-grade thrall who had the benefit of familiarity going for him.

Fitz wondered what Roger was doing now, if he'd ever see his loyal thrall again. He hoped that if none of the rest of them made it out, at least maybe he could. He could take the cash Fitz left for him and start a new life, one without a vampire to wait on.

The man on the ground coughed, and Fitz came back to his senses. He wasn't in the habit of just leaving his prey unconscious, and that pesky bit of morality could certainly be inconvenient at times. He sighed and hauled the man up. "Where do you live?"

Bleary eyes cracked open, and the man mumbled some directions. Fitz carried him home easily, sticking to the darkness so as not to invite attention, and soon he was carrying his prey up the stairs of a rotten tenement. With his hunger sated and the human deposited on a thin mattress in a drafty room, Fitz felt that he could get back to Lex's manor.

Perhaps he should get some food for Lex, as well, but truthfully he was still irritated at Lex for how determined he seemed to protect Oliver, when he'd utterly failed to protect Fitz all those years ago. He didn't mind being a bit petty about it, because he knew he was going to agree to what Lex had asked. If Lex's plan failed, if he had the chance, he would take Oliver and try to run, and maybe, just maybe, they could find some kind of existence far away from all of this.

He didn't truly believe that, but he wanted to.

Previous > Masterlist > Next

Thanks for reading about this vampire's trauma. Next week: Oliver is returned to Alexander, and has a pleasant chat with the Maestro on the way.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @und3ad-mutt

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @light-me-on-pyre @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping @natthebatt @fire-bugg14

#whump #whump writing #vampires #mind control #vampire whump #rare bookseller #alexander #fitz #lily #vivian

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cherienymphe · 2 years ago

Text

Haunted (Damon Salvatore x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, MURDER, compulsion, blood, stalking, abusive relationship, domestic violence

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies

summary: If you'd known that your ex-boyfriend was a vampire, you would've gotten a stake instead of a restraining order.

You patted your face dry with the small hand towel, basking in the silence that surrounded you. It was the silence of a home that belonged entirely to you, occupied with no one else but you. You weren’t concerned with who was standing over your shoulder nor whose face would greet yours in the reflection when you looked up.

When you walked out of the bathroom, there was no surprise guest waiting for you by the door…or on your bed.

You liked to think that you were always a good judge of character. You always made good and trustworthy friends, always avoided conflict with wicked people, and even picked boyfriends that treated you nothing less than decent. Every single one had been perfect, and the only thing that contributed to the downfall of your relationships was nothing more than maturity and growing apart.

Then Damon happened.

He was everything you always avoided. Devilishly handsome—the kind that drove girls to lose all common sense—, hedonistic to a fault, and mysterious in ways that grew less sexy and more concerning over time. That crooked smile of his went from mischievous to nerve-wracking. His knack for knowing where you seemed to be at all times morphed from caring to worrying.

Damon looked like the devil come to earth…and he slowly started to feel that way too.

You stared out of your window with your hands at your side, dismayed at how you of all people ended up in such a situation. Gone were the days where you always wanted to be around him and soon came the days where you were scrambling for just five minutes away from him. There was a time where you thought you’d never get that again…but here you were…back home…

…and safe.

Mystic Falls was small and quaint and quiet. Granted, you hadn’t been home in years, but upon returning, it was like nothing had changed. Your house was still the same, your cousin and great aunt were still the same, and you felt more at peace with one foot into the town than you had in almost a year. It wasn’t until you were finally away from him did you realize just how much Damon had drained you.

He took up so much of your time that you’d been driven to drop out of school with only another year left. You’d been too overwhelmed, and unable to pinpoint the exact problem at the time, you’d broken down in class and came to the conclusion that college was the problem when in actuality…the problem was the raven-haired man who shadowed your every footstep.

You looked down at your wrists, recalling the way he used to wrap his hands around them when he wanted your full attention. That was something he seemed to hate, how much he could never fully hold your attention. How your every waking thought wasn’t consumed with him.

Damon absolutely hated not being the center of your universe. He hated when you’d call your cousin or great aunt to see how they were doing. He hated when you went out with your friends after class. He hated when he’d call or come by, and you were otherwise occupied. It had seemed like he wanted you to sit around twiddling your thumbs with nothing to do but wait for him.

You’d thought it was cute at first, that he was just so enamored with you that he wanted to spend all his free time with you, but then… Then you saw it for what it was, most especially when he’d snatched your arm one day, forcing you to pause in your phone call. It happened so suddenly, and you’d been in shock, but your incredulous stare had done nothing to deter him.

“Sweetheart…I had plans to take you out.”

He’d said it in that smooth baritone of his, the kind that made your knees weak, and instead of holding your resolve, you’d actually given in. You had actually felt bad for holding him up and ruining his surprise, profusely apologizing before bidding your cousin goodbye. He hadn’t let you go once that night, and if you’d been concerned by it—something you couldn’t even recall—it had definitely been long gone by the end of the night.

Damon had a way of making you overlook every concerning detail, especially when he was kissing you and playing your body so well that it seemed like you’d been dating for years instead of less than seven months. Whenever you closed your eyes, it was easy to recall the feel of his soft lips gliding down your stomach, his nimble fingers sliding into you, his hips pressing against yours as he filled you up.

It was all a distraction, a pretty package to hide his true nature.

Even though you were hundreds of miles away, far away from your ex-boyfriend, a shudder still passed through you at the mere thought of him. You stared out into the night with your arms wrapped around yourself, teeth sinking into your lip. You flexed your wrist, still surprised at what it felt like to not hurt after all this time, and you took a step back away from the window.

Your eyes strayed to the lock, confirming that it was locked, and you slowly made your way downstairs. Despite the fact that you knew they were, you still wanted to make sure that both doors were locked too. Damon was far away, and even if he wasn’t, your restraining order made sure he would stay that way, but something in you couldn’t hold off the feeling that he was just over your shoulder.

You didn’t think Damon would ever go through such lengths, but there had also been a time where you didn’t think he’d ever show up at your door again after you’d blatantly broken up with him. You didn’t think there’d be a time where he sprained your wrist. You never imagined a day would come where you’d make your way down to the police station and have to plead your case about getting a protective order.

In truth, you still didn’t know how you’d been granted it. One minute they’d been adamantly against it because Damon hadn’t done anything to you that you could prove, and the next, you’d been staring at a piece of paper that said if he came within a certain distance of you, he’d be arrested.

You made your way up your stairs with a small sigh, chest feeling heavy no matter how many times you exhaled. You glanced over your shoulder on your way up, gaze lingering on the front door as if some entity from the other side was willing you to open it. With a shudder, you turned back around and locked yourself in your bedroom.

The cool Virginia air was almost biting as you deposited your groceries in your car. As convinced as you were that you hated the cold, you missed it infinitely when you were away. You had longed for the comforts of home a lot, but more so when deep in the toxic cycle of your relationship. You had never longed for home more than when Damon was cornering you and intimidating you with those icy blue eyes of his.

You paused at the thought, hand on your car as one incident in particular came to mind. You struggled to swallow at the memory, almost able to feel the gentle brush of his nose against yours as he leaned in and asked if you were stupid. The words alone had been insulting, tears springing to your eyes at the sound of Damon talking to you in such a way.

However, the true hurt set in when his hand had pressed into the wall next to your head, completely trapping you. He wouldn’t let you leave, and anytime you’d moved to one side, he would be there…blocking your way, blue eyes staring you down. It was one of the first moments you’d been scared of Damon, and instead of recognizing that for the true sign that it was, you only wrote it off as a once off.

A honking horn pulled you from your thoughts, and you flinched, startled by the sound.

You glanced over to see that someone had almost hit someone else in the street, one of the two clearly not paying attention to the other. You stared at the cars for a moment more before glancing up. You were just about to slide into your own vehicle when your eyes passed over something scarily familiar. Or…

Perhaps someone was a more fitting word.

You glanced up again, but your gaze landed on nothing. There was no one standing across the street in the square even though you’d been absolutely sure of what you saw. The longer you stared, it was like you were trying to will yourself to see what you swore you just saw, but no familiar fair skinned figure appeared. No man with dark hair and hypnotizing blue eyes was in sight, and you stood there for a few seconds more before finally sinking into your car.

Your fingers were tight on the wheel the whole way to your house, and you didn’t realize just how badly you’d spooked yourself until you were parked and unloading your car. Your house wasn’t out in the middle of nowhere or outskirts of town, but the dense woods faced you, and as you carried groceries back and forth from the car to the house, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being…watched.

You stood at your door with your last groceries in hand, staring out before you with a small frown. It was late in the evening, and while the sun hadn’t disappeared completely, it was threatening to. Your town was no stranger to the odd string of animal attacks here and there, and it was that thought that forced you into the house, turning the lock shut behind you.

The silence that met you was as welcoming as it always was now.

Dinner was quick to make, and your shower was even quicker to take, towel securely wrapped around you as you stepped out of the bathroom. You faced your window when you came out, and you stopped short at the sight of a crow perched on the sill. You tightened your fingers in your towel, clutching it to you as you stared at the dark bird.

Your brows slowly furrowed with a frown.

You were working hard to remember if it was normal for crows to be out at night, and despite the fact that a singular bird was of no consequence to you, you still couldn’t shake the feeling its mere presence was…off. Pulling your gaze away, you dropped your towel and threw on a t-shirt. One deep inhale told you that it was one of Damon’s old shirts, and you were tempted to rip it off, throw it in the garbage even, but the smell of a scent you hadn’t inhaled in ages gave you pause.

How was it possible to miss someone who was so horrible to you?

Refusing to linger on what that meant, you quickly made your way downstairs to eat. You replied to a few of Bonnie’s texts, telling her you might come by tomorrow or another. It had been a good week or so since you’d last seen her, and you were feeling like a bad cousin. You weren’t of the right mind to explain your odd behavior and reclusive habits as of late. You wondered if you ever would be.

You were washing and drying your dishes when something out of the ordinary made you blink.

You lifted your eyes, startled by the sight of a familiar face faintly appearing in the glass. The sight had the plate slipping from your fingers, and you only tore your eyes away when the sound of breaking glass reached your ears. You quickly glanced down, taking in the sight of your unblemished feet before glancing back up.

The only face that stared back at you was yours.

You felt paralyzed, lips parting and chest heaving as you just…stared at the window. The more you stared, the crazier you felt, and you pressed your hand to your forehead. Your heart wouldn’t stop racing no matter how hard you tried to make it so. Your lips were parted in dismay, and you slowly dropped a hand to press it to your chest.

With trembling hands and legs, you slowly knelt down.

You were so sure… You had been certain, in fact… Damon’s face had been clear as day in your kitchen window, and yet in the blink of an eye, it was gone just as quickly. You knew that you were quite literally driving yourself insane, and you struggled to clean up your glass. Once your mess was clear, you quickly closed the kitchen window curtain, blinking back tears.

You trekked back to your room in a daze, and you made sure to lock your bedroom door once you were inside.

You thought to yourself that sleep could not find you fast enough, but sleep was not the escape you thought it would be.

Your dreams—or nightmares rather—were filled with familiar pink lips and cruel blue eyes. Damon’s mouth covered your own even when you struggled for air. His hands ran over you, and his fingers kneaded into your skin. It started out as nice as it once did, but just like your relationship, it quickly morphed into something sinister. The pink of Damon’s lips were replaced with the red of blood, the color smearing all over you as he kissed you wherever he desired.

The gentle touch of his hands became painful, sharp pains flaring in your sides and arms as he held you down. The loving roll of his hips turned into something violent and assaulting, forcing screams from your lips and tears from your eyes. No matter how much you begged, it was as if your pleas fell on deaf ears, and your only escape was in the waking world.

Darkness greeted you when you sat up in bed, eyes wide and lips parted as you gasped for breath. Despite the cold weather outside and the blasting A/C inside, your skin was dewy with sweat. You quickly kicked the covers off of you, pressing your hand to your chest and wiping your face with the other. It all felt too real, and your entire body shook—enough to shake the bed too.

Your gaze traveled over your room, and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest at the shadowy outline by your door. A scream escaped your lips, and you scrambled to turn on the light, no relief filling you when no one was there. You only stared at where you could’ve sworn someone was standing, throat tightening and tears escaping.

You pulled your trembling lip between your teeth, just staring at the empty space where someone once was—had to be. You stared at the space for what felt like too long before finally pulling your gaze away, slowly bringing your knees up to your chest and wrapping one arm around them. Your other hand pressed to your forehead, eyes squeezing shut as you fought against the idea that you were going crazy, but you had to be.

Damon was far away and wouldn’t be coming for you. It was so likely that he’d moved on already, long found someone else to replace you and torment. That thought was equally terrifying and comforting, and you sniffed. Once you started, you couldn’t stop, and the tears kept coming. You didn’t want to accept it…

…but you were starting to think that Damon had truly driven you insane.

“You’ve been back home for a little over a month, and I’ve seen you twice,” Bonnie told you with a tilt of her head. “You need to visit more.”

“I know,” you sighed as she walked you to the door. “Unpacking and all that…”

You didn’t have the heart to tell her you were plagued with thoughts and dreams and visions of a dark-haired tormentor. Damon was everywhere you looked, and in your efforts to avoid him in your dreams, sleep was something you ran from these days. However, he found a home out of the corner of your eye and in window reflections instead. It was haunting, and that bird…

That damn bird.

It cawed at you in the early hours of the morning, and what you’d once written off as a curious creature quickly turned into a terrifying symbol. Something about that crow reminded you of Damon, dark and unmoving and always watching. Every time you tried to shoo it away, it never moved, never even flinched. It was completely unafraid of you…

Like someone else you knew.

You had begun to dread it’s very presence, turning your back to it once settled in bed.

“Well, if you need help taking out all your things, you know I’m happy to help,” she offered with a small frown.

“I appreciate the offer, but…I’m basically done, now,” you lied.

The other girl pouted a bit but accepted your response. When she reached out to touch you, her bare hands landing on the skin of your arms, she froze. Her eyes widened as she looked up at you, fingers pressing into your arms as she swallowed, your gaze drawn to the action. You hadn’t ever seen that look on Bonnie’s face before, expression stricken and face losing all its color.

“Are you…okay…?”

You blinked at her at that, your turn to frown, now. Bonnie suddenly shook her head as if clearing her thoughts.

“I…I’m sorry, I… Grams has been up to her normal tricks again, and she…”

The look on Bonnie’s face gave you pause. You knew how kooky your great aunt could be, and the family entertained her because it was nothing more than good natured fun, but the severity in Bonnie’s voice had you seriously holding her gaze.

“What…? What is it?”

She looked disturbed.

“You just…you just feel so cold…and not like you’re cold, but like you’re…empty of all warmth.”

Your face fell.

“Of all life.”

You slowly pulled away at that, unsure of what to say and only able to settle for laughing it off. Bonnie didn’t really join in, and you ignored her weak attempts to get you to stay, to keep you from going home.

“Bonnie, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you reassured her.

Her expression wasn’t one of agreement, but she eventually let your hand go, albeit reluctantly.

“Just…call me as soon as you get home, okay?” she urged.

You promised her that you would, trying to assure her with your eyes that everything would be fine as you made your way to your car. Her wave back lacked enthusiasm, and you tried not to linger on that as you drove back home. It was dark when you parked in your driveway, and you made sure to be brisk when you got out of your car.

Like before, the imposing presence of the dense woods made your body buzz with energy—with adrenaline. Your hands shook as you struggled to find your house key. You felt clumsier than normal, heart beginning to race beneath your chest. You swore you heard a branch or something snap, and you fought the urge to look over your shoulder, only focused on the keys in your hand.

You only just touched the right one when the entire keychain slipped from your fingers.

The sound of it hitting the concrete seemed so loud, and you felt a chill pass through you at the sight of it at your feet. With a brief pause, you bent down to get it, feeling a warmth in your back that you’d only felt in the presence of one other person. With your fingers on the key, you didn’t hesitate to rise to your feet and unlock the door. A cool breeze passed by you, and the shiver to crawl up your spine somehow felt like it was from more than that.

You practically stumbled inside of your house, tripping across the threshold, and you only spun around once you were inside, shocked at the sight before you.

Only your car, your yard, and the trees greeted you.

Your hand was on the door, the other hanging limply at your side. Your yard was completely empty of anyone, most of all who you feared the most, and you swallowed. Your gaze moved from side to side, tilting your head this way and that, completely shocked with the realization that it was all in your head. Even with this truth staring you in the face, you couldn’t stop yourself from shaking.

Not even when you shut the door and pressed your back to it.

You felt too hot, blood pumping too fast in your body, and with a shuddering exhale, you forced yourself to go upstairs and shower, hoping it would solve your problems for the night.

The blaring sound of your car alarm was what forced you out of your sleep. It was hard to discern what the noise even was at first. After all, you could count the number of times on one hand someone had actually set it off. You rubbed your eyes while struggling to sit up, the annoying sound of the alarm only making you more irritated when combined with your lack of sleep.

It took nothing at all to find your keys on your nightstand and shut it off, and the night was bathed in silence once again. The silence felt so loud though, and for a moment, you almost wished your alarm would sound again. You slowly started to relax when you jumped, the sound of your car alarm filling the room once again. This time you did get up, and you stared down into the yard as you clicked the button.

Silence met you, and the yard was bathed in darkness once more. You stared down into the darkness, wondering what kind of animal could be hitting against your car with that much force. There was a sinister thought in that back of your mind that it was no animal at all, and you struggled to force it away. No. Damon would never…

Even if you wanted to be conceited for all of five minutes, logically, why would Damon follow you here? Why would he come after you? It had been a good month since you saw him before you finally came back home, relaxed in the thought that the restraining order had clued him in on how serious you really were. It made no sense for Damon to still be chasing after you, and yet…

As you stared down into your yard, casting your eyes this way and that for any sign of the man who still haunted your dreams, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was out there. No shape seemed out of place and no shadow stood out to you as unordinary, but you could not shake that feeling that he was staring right back at you…and you didn’t even know it.

Closing the curtain and backing away, you gently dropped your keys back onto the nightstand. Yu clutched your sheet just under your chin as you stared up at the ceiling, laying straight on your back and as stiff as a board. The house felt too quiet, now, and that silence that you’d grown to love only served to torment you, now.

You flinched when something hit your window hard, a familiar caw reaching your ears, and you slowly sat up. Your eyes widened a tad at the sight of that dark bird through the curtain, and you remembered finally reading something the other day that crows were not typically nocturnal. The sight of it stirred something so negative in you that you couldn’t even look at it, turning and facing the wall.

It cawed again, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

Something about this just wasn’t right. You didn’t know how but all of this felt off somehow, and you squeezed your eyes tighter as the bird’s sound reached your ears again. A few tears passed through, escaping your tightly shut eyes, and you pulled your sheet over your head. Lick clockwork, that crow would caw every hour or so, and the silence in between was spent staring into the darkness instead of actually sleeping, just knowing it was there and waiting for it to sound again.

Your lack of sleep was commented on the next day.

“It’s just taking some getting used to, being back in my old house and all that,” you softly said, waving Bonnie and Caroline off.

You remembered Caroline Forbes from when you were younger, the blonde girl barely pushing the age of five then. She was just as talkative and lively as you remembered. You also remembered an additional girl to complete the trio, and Caroline excitedly hummed.

“Elena is off on a weekend trip with her boyfriend. Stefan Salvatore,” she told you, and the way she said his name told you all you needed to know about what he looked like. “I would be so jealous if I hadn’t already had the other brother. Been there, done that.”

She made a face that clued you in on how that had ended.

“It lasted all of three months before he decided he was tired of me and took off,” she scoffed. “I want no parts of that family.”

Bonnie hummed in agreement.

“Damon was way too old for you anyway, Caroline. He’s like…Y/N’s age, and that would be like her dating Jeremy.”

They both made pinched faces, disgusted with the thought, and you were inclined to agree when you suddenly frowned. You blinked, turning to look at Bonnie as the name that came out of her mouth finally registered. You felt your heart sink, and feeling your eyes on her, Bonnie turned to look at you.

“Did you say…Damon?”

“Yeah, Damon. Stefan’s brother. I don’t think you ever met him,” she added. “He came back to town a good year after you left, and he left…maybe three years ago?”

“With barely a goodbye,” Caroline mumbled, and it was easy to tell she was still rightfully bitter about the whole thing.

You told yourself that it was a coincidence, but you recalled Damon’s mysterious nature, the lack of information he ever gave up about his personal life. Although the one thing you did know was that he was from Virginia too…and you told yourself that it was nothing more than a coincidence. It had to be.

You grew quiet, Bonnie and Caroline none the wiser to your silent disposition. You took a sip of your drink, glancing around The Grill. It was a Friday night, and it was packed like any other Friday night. Adults and teenagers alike were hanging out at the one hot spot in town, and when your gaze glided over the bar, a familiar pair of blue eyes connected with yours.

You bumped Bonnie when you jumped, and you were quick to turn and apologize to her after your drink spilled some. She didn’t take offense, seemingly more concerned for you than anything else, and you assured her you were fine, heart racing as you turned back towards the bar. Your eyes passed up and down it at least a few times, but Damon was nowhere in sight, and you set your drink down.

You pressed your hand to your forehead, wondering if you had too much to drink. You knew that wasn’t true. You’d barely had two glasses of beer, and you closed your eyes. You forced yourself to take a deep breath, breathing in through your mouth and exhaling through your nose. You only opened your eyes when Bonnie touched your arm, Caroline now quiet too.

“I think I’m gonna head home,” you suddenly said, standing and grabbing your purse.

“Oh, okay.”

You hated the disappointment you heard in Bonnie’s voice as you searched your purse for some cash.

“I’m just not feeling the best. I shouldn’t have come, but I really wanted to see you guys,” you honestly told her.

Bonnie smiled at that.

“You really shouldn’t have. You can always see us. You need to be getting more rest,” she advised.

You agreed, throwing some cash on the table.

“By the way, Grams is going to make you more of those cookies she always used to send you. I told her that you ran out weeks ago, and she freaked. Demanded to know why I hadn’t told her sooner,” she chuckled.

“Ooh is that like some witchy thing?” Caroline wondered, wiggling her fingers.

You and Bonnie rolled your eyes, loathe to admit how right Caroline was.

“She swears that they protect Y/N and brought her good luck while she was away,” the brunette told her.

“I don’t have the heart to tell her she should probably find a new recipe,” you mumbled with a shake of your head.

If they knew the things you’d been through with Damon, they’d know that those cookies hadn’t done a thing to help you. You waved them both goodbye, keys in hand as you walked out the door. You learned your lesson from last time, keeping the one you needed directly between your fingers to save less time. However, smart thinking would never trump clumsiness, and you cursed when your keys hit the pavement. You were thankful that you were just at your door though, bending down to pick them up…

When another hand beat you to it.

It startled you, and a nervous thank you was just on the tip of your lips…when you lifted your eyes.

Damon was even prettier than you remembered. Skin perfect and unblemished, eyes a crystalline blue that didn’t look real, and hair as dark as the night sky behind him. You thought you were imagining things at first, as you had been for a good month, now, and you slowly forced yourself to stand. You couldn’t find any words to say, just staring at him and trying to figure out if this was another trick of your mind. The faint noise of the people standing outside The Grill just across the street faded into the background as he moved…and handed you your keys.

Your lips parted, a gasp escaping when his fingers brushed against your skin as he laid them in your palm. You stared down at them for a few seconds before lifting your gaze again, heart stuttering and skipping beats as it registered within your mind. He was real, he was really here in Mystic Falls, and you couldn’t even decide on what to feel.

Damon’s blue eyes fell to your chest, right where your heart was as if he could hear it, and you blinked.

“Damon.”

You almost whispered his name, too afraid to say it too loudly.

“You… I have a restraining order,” you finally remembered, frowning at him.

He didn’t respond at first, merely tilting his head to the side as he drank you in. You’d grown to hate that gesture, the act nothing more than an indication of the condescending thoughts running rampant in his mind. When he looked at you like he was looking at you now, it used to make you feel cute.

Now, it just made you feel stupid.

“How does it feel to be back home?”

He completely ignored you, and you clenched your keys in your hand.

“To catch up with the family and the friends,” he drawled, doing that thing with his eyes that made your heart jump. “Unpacking in that big ole house by your lonesome?”

Your frown deepened at his words.

“You know…”

He leaned over, resting his arm on the top of your car, propping his head up with his hand.

“When you broke up with me, I didn’t quite believe you,” he admitted.

“I know,” you whispered, recalling the day he’d shown up on your doorstep like nothing happened.

“…but then the restraining order, that seemed a little more serious.”

You looked around, glancing over your shoulder at The Grill, willing someone—anyone—to just glance over.

“…and the cops…they were never going to take you seriously. Why would they…?”

Making the decision not to hear another word of this, you moved to unlock your door. You opened it for all of two seconds before Damon was pressing his hand against it, shutting it. He was so close, and when you looked up, his lips were so close to yours.

“…but I was in a…let’s say…fun mood.”

You bit your lip when he slid his entire body to rest against your door, arms crossed over his chest as he regarded you.

“I decided to convince them to go ahead with it,” he told you, face even as he stared you down. “I just wanted to see what you’d do.”

You blinked at his words, taken aback with confusion. Damon had changed their minds…? Why would he do that? How did that even work? He suddenly sighed, glancing up towards the sky.

“I never imagined you’d actually leave,” he grumbled, pouting.

You reached your hand into your purse, your fingers just grazing your phone when the whole bag was snatched away. The only thing that remained were the keys in your hand, and your heart dropped to your stomach when Damon sighed, running his hand through his dark strands. You heard your purse land somewhere behind him, and the glint in his eyes told you just how angry he was.

It was not an unfamiliar sight.

“Damon…”

You took a step back, but he was faster, his hands coming up to gently cup your face. You hadn’t realized you started crying until his thumbs brushed your tears away. He gently shushed you, but there was nothing soothing about it. It was often a sound you heard just before his fingers harshly dug into your jaw.

“You need to leave…before I call the police,” you choked out.

He actually laughed.

The sound was so disheartening, and it sounded genuine, like the thought actually tickled him. Like the idea was so preposterous, the idea that they could do anything to him, at all. The sound was so convincing that you almost believed it yourself, almost believed that he really was untouchable.

“…and what are they going to do? Hmm?”

His hand tightened on your jaw, and you winced. His face wasn’t so pretty, now, faint veins appearing under his eyes just before they disappeared as quickly as they came. The sight stumped you, and you stared at him through stricken eyes.

“Hey, is everything alright?”

Relief filled you at the sound of the new voice, and Damon’s expression evened out, just as pretty as before. He huffed, and you watched him roll his eyes just before turning to face the newcomer behind him. You didn’t hesitate to unlock your car, sliding into it and locking the door just as Damon’s hand hit the window. You froze at the crack that now adorned it, looking at Damon through the glass with an expression you couldn’t even name.

The sound of your name reached your ears as he called your name, his mockingly chipper tone barely able to hide the malice beneath it. You didn’t look back as you drove away, hurrying to beat him to your house. His words were stuck in your mind, and you were certain, now that he actually had been stalking you. You weren’t sure how that related to any of the other stuff, convinced he’d still managed to drive you mad, but Damon most definitely had been to your house.

You car was barely parked and turned off good before you were hopping out, sprinting to the door. Light flooded your home when you flipped the switch, and without a cell phone, you were forced to rely on the landline. It took you a good seven seconds to realize that you’d heard no dial tone when you picked it up, and that pressing any buttons was going to do no good.

Someone had cut the phone line.

The phone clattered to the floor as the realization hit you, and no second thoughts were needed to know who did it. The room swayed a bit, and you just knew you were going to be sick any moment now. The confirmation that Damon had in fact been watching you brought you no sense of satisfaction for not actually being crazy. In fact, you wished you’d just made it all up in your head. At least then you wouldn’t have to deal with the harsh knocks on your door.

The scream you let out bounced off of the walls, and you clutched your stomach as you fought to hold in your sobs.

The faint sound of your name reached your ears in the living room.

“I really hate that it had to come to this, you know I do…”

You slowly looked up, tearful gaze resting on the front door.

“…but you should probably come and talk to me face to face…before I do something…”

There was a slight pause, and you could almost imagine that mirthful smirk adorning his lips.

“…drastic.”

His tone gave you pause, and you felt at war with yourself. Logically, you would have to leave your house at some point. You did not think you’d be able to wait him out, but something in you screamed at you to. Something in you was convinced that you could, but a part of you was telling you that if he’d come all this way, followed you all the way back to both yours and his hometown, there was no telling the lengths he’d go to. You’d watched enough Dateline, enough Investigation Discovery, and despite the fact that you didn’t ever want to think he’d be that bad, something in you wondered if you’d wake up to the smell of smoke and burning flames one night.

Slowly approaching the door, you heard Damon chuckle, like he could perfectly hear your footsteps.

“Come on, baby,” he softly said. “I don’t have all night.”

It took all of your strength to unlock and open the door, and when you did…

You almost immediately regretted it.

You didn’t recognize the woman he had in his arms, only knew that she was crying and clearly in distress. You looked between them before resting your gaze on Damon, staring at him as if he were crazy. Your lips parted in shock, and your gaze fell back to his hand, the one he had around her neck.

“Damon…what are you doing…?” you slowly asked him, lifting your hands just as slow as if trying to stall whatever he was about to do.

“I’m doing what you made me do.”

His nostrils flared as he stared you down, blaming you for his actions, and a choked gasp escaped you.

“She-.”

“She’s going to die if you don’t step outside, right now.”

He said it so suddenly, so evenly, that you felt no other option than to believe him. Your frown deepened as you searched his eyes for some remorse, a hint of a joke, some leniency there that would give way if you pushed hard enough, but you saw none of that. Damon’s eyes had never looked so cold, and you knew then that he was entirely serious.

“Damon,” you choked out.

“Now,” was his only response, tone clipped as the girl—no older than you—cried in his arms.

You felt bad. This—whatever this was—was between the two of you, and Damon had dragged an innocent woman into it. You moved, and once one of your feet was over the threshold, a tight grip on your neck completely obstructed your breathing. On instinct, you reached up to grip his arm, panicked.

His blue gaze was all you could see, and you blinked back tears as he spoke.

“You made me do this.”

He didn’t give you time to linger on that before he pulled the other girl closer, having never let her go before grabbing you with his free hand.

You were completely frozen in shock as you watched him lean in and savagely bite her neck. The screams she let out were the kind to fill your nightmares, and you couldn’t believe what you were witnessing. You felt like you were stuck in an endless nightmare, unable to pull your eyes away from the sight of his violent assault, and unable to close your ears to the sounds of her screams, her struggle, and his teeth in her neck.

In her panic, the strange woman reached out to grip your arm, and the longer he bit her—fed from her—the weaker her grip became. Tears sprung to your eyes at the feel of her hand loosening on you, and they spilled over altogether when her hand finally let you go, falling at her side. You knew then that she was dead even if Damon hadn’t carelessly dropped her as proof.

You couldn’t breathe when he turned his gaze back to you.

Like before, those veins were under his eyes, but they were more prominent now, more terrifying to look at. His lips were completely covered in blood, some even smearing across his chin, and despite the new reality you were faced with, you still couldn’t believe it. You only gave some indication that you were still coherent when his lips grazed your cheek, a shuddering gasp leaving you.

“I missed you…you know that?” he murmured against your skin.

He took a step forward…and then another and then another, forcing you back with every one. His hand was still tight on your neck, and the other slowly snaked around your waist, pulling you closer. Damon didn’t stop until you were right in front of your door, and you looked at him like less than a stranger—like a monster straight out of every horror you’d been able to get your hands on.

You couldn’t move as he leaned in, bloody lips pressing against your cheek.

“Now, that those God-awful cookies—and everything in them—are out of your system for good…”

You didn’t understand what that had to do with anything, but soon, you didn’t understand nor comprehend anything.

Damon’s pupils were all that you could focus on, even in the darkness, and as they expanded, they were all that seemed to fill your vision. You felt yourself relaxing, shoulders drooping as the calmest feeling washed over you. Damon’s hand rubbed circles into your lower back, and the hand on your neck loosened some, his thumb smearing blood along your chin.

“Invite me in.”

How insane.

Why on earth would you ever invite him into your home? That was what you thought anyway, but the words that left your mouth were entirely different. You felt your lips move, and you heard your voice as you did what he said, and it was only when the warmth of your home replaced the cold Virginia air of outside did Damon let you go.

In doing so, his gaze broke away from yours, and you stumbled back in both shock and confusion.

Why did you do that? How did he make you do that? You could only back away from him as he slowly walked about the room, gaze roaming over the inside of your house with a hum.

“Cute,” he mused, and more tears fell. “So…homely. I can just imagine you baking in the kitchen.”

He moved his hands about with a chuckle and feeling both out of control and like you finally had control for the first time in moments, you sprinted for the door. In the blink of an eye, Damon’s arms were wrapped around you, and the sight of him drinking from that girl would never compare to the feeling, you supposed.

It was hard to make a sound when his teeth sank into your skin, and you reached back, desperately trying to pull him away to no avail. Damon’s arms were so tight around you, painfully, and you gasped when he backed up, pulling you with him. You couldn’t stop crying, and as your mind still fought to process just what he was, it hit you then that maybe you hadn’t been going insane.

Maybe he had been messing with your head somehow, watching you from the trees, showing up at odd places before disappearing. Your feet kicked at the feel of him pulling from you, and you could feel yourself growing weaker by the second. As if he could feel it too, Damon suddenly let you go, and you collapsed at his feet.

You shakily reached up to touch your neck, unsurprised by what you felt, and you failed to push yourself onto your knees.

“We were so good together…no…?”

You tried to bite back a sob, but it was no use. Damon tsk’d at the sound, and soon you were turned over to face him. He looked down at you like you were a misbehaving child, head tilted and lips pursed.

“You needed some time. I get that,” he nodded. “I even gave you that…”

You watched him kneel down, feeling too weak to even attempt to move, and your heart skipped a beat as you watched him peel off his jacket. He reached out to gently drag a finger down the side of your face, lingering at your lips.

“…but you don’t leave me. You don’t runaway from, and you definitely don’t keep me out.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips over yours before kissing you fully. You pushed at his chest, but it was a weak attempt, and you were unsurprised when Damon batted your hand away, pulling at your clothes with ease. A few tears escaped, running past your ears, and you could only arch up into his mouth when he bit your stomach.

A humming sound escaped him, and a warm feeling filled you.

You didn’t want to feel that, and with every article of clothing Damon got rid of, he marked the area with his teeth. When he kissed you again, his bare chest touched yours, and you felt powerless to stop what was happening. You’d done everything right. You’d broken up with, even went to the police when he didn’t respect your boundaries, and to real put the nail in the coffin, you moved away. You came back home and got far away from Damon.

…but what was far when the equation involved a vampire?

As Damon pushed himself into you with a low groan, you wondered how you had missed it. He obviously fed while you were together, he wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t, and considering how little human life clearly meant to him, you had to assume that Damon wasn’t of the…sympathetic variety. You tried to recall if anyone had gone missing back in the town where campus was, but it was hard to focus with Damon thrusting into you.

His face was pressed into the crook of your neck, and your hips involuntarily rose to meet his with every movement. Blood was still on his mouth when he pulled away, and when you reached up to push at his chest, Damon reached up to grab your hand. He twisted his fingers with your own before roughly pinning your hand down.

“What was the plan?” he wondered, his other hand finding a home on your neck. “Were you going to forget about me…? Move on?”

He said it like it was the craziest thing he’d ever heard, and more tears spilled over. The mere thought seemed to have upset him, and Damon leaned back down to bite into your chest. You hissed at the feel clenching around him, but Damon paid you no mind. He was too lost in the taste of you.

Thinking back on the memories of your tumultuous relationship, it scared you all the more to think of just what you’d been up against, all the while none the wiser.

Damon’s hips came down against yours with vigor, cock sliding in and out of you and making you shudder. The feel of him on top of you and in you brought you back to the happy days of your relationship, but the blood on his face and the tight grip on your neck only reminded you of what it had become.

Damon wouldn’t take his eyes off of you, staring down at you with those blue eyes, and when yours met his, life before, you felt your body relax as your vision was only filled with his widening pupils. You felt completely at his mercy, and you heard Damon hum.

“I want you to kiss me…like you kissed me on our first date.”

His words sparked the memory, and you felt a smile ghost along your lips as you recalled the excitedness in your as you’d pressed your lips against his. You’d been so bold then, so much like yourself before Damon had scared you into submission.

Overcome with the desire to do just that, you craned your head up to fiercely press your lips against his. Damon moaned into the kiss, and when he let your hand go, you threw your arms around his neck just as you had that night. Damon hummed against your lips, and you gasped against his at a particularly hard thrust. Even though you wanted to, you couldn’t stop kissing him.

You felt out of control of your own body, and tears kissed your eyes.

Your back slid along the floor with every snap of his hips, and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the otherwise quiet room. You felt Damon’s hand twist at the root of your hair, yanking your head back and away from him, and you only got a brief glimpse of the veins in his face before his teeth were sinking into your neck again. The feel of his teeth and cock in you were threatening to send you over the edge, too overwhelming to even focus on.

When Damon’s teeth left you, you shuddered, and he hummed. You felt his fingers smoothing along your face, and when he whispered for you to look at him, too afraid to do otherwise, you did. Tears were still skipping down your cheeks, and Damon ran his blue eyes over you, drinking you in with a sigh. He looked disappointed, but it was gone just as quickly as it came.

When his eyes held your gaze again, your lips parted, and another tear escaped at the hypnotizing words that gripped you.

“Do not leave me ever again…”

You swallowed, but you didn’t blink.

“You are mine, and if you even try to, I will kill your loved ones one by one, starting with that meddling family of yours.”

Your lips trembled.

“Nod if you understand.”

You gave him a slow nod, and a cruel smile fell over his lips. He fingered your chin, just looking at you with that small smile.

“Tell me you love me,” he murmured, and hit with the overwhelming urge to do just that…

You did.

#damon salvatore x reader #dark!damon salvatore #tvd #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries imagine #damon salvatore imagine #damon salvatore fanfiction #tvd fanfiction #the vampire diaries fanfiction

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professorsnape394 · 9 months ago

Text

Day 4: "Me or Her?"

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC

Rating:😠🥰

Prompt: Torn

Summary: Severus must chose between his old life and his new life, or risk losing those closest to him.

A/N: Can't resist a good angsty moment. Writing this broke me a little bit in the best possible way. My heart was aching.

Warnings: alcohol.

Word Count: 2184

Credits to Gif Creator

Halloween had always been a difficult day for Severus. While the rest of the world gathered their friends to dress up in ridiculous costumes and gallivant around from door to door, Severus opted to stay at home, mourning the loss of his first love and childhood best friend.

He remembered that night like it was yesterday. It was the height of the First Wizarding War; The Dark Lord had learned of the prophecy and was setting out to murder any new parents with a son born at the end of July. Severus had begged Voldemort not to hurt her. Dumbledore had promised to keep her safe. At that point Lily Evans was the only person in his life who had ever saw the good in him. He needed her to be kept alive.

As it turned out neither wizard kept their promise to their most loyal subject, and Lily Potter was murdered on the 31st of October 1981 Severus was the one to find her; lying lifeless on the floor of her son’s nursery. Her son, who infuriatingly had survived the Unforgivable Curse that was meant to end his life, remained unharmed and wailing in his crib. Lily had not been so fortunate.

Snape fell to his knees beside her limp body, cradling her in his arms. Sobbing openly for the loss of his best friend.

Halloween marked this occasion every year serving as a cruel reminder of everything he had lost that day. So instead of celebrating like everyone else, he chose to drink.

The potions master kept an old photograph of himself and the young witch hidden away in the drawers of his desk. It depicted a moving image of the two of them side by side as young teens, posing and giggling hysterically at the camera. It was his tradition to set the picture on his desk once a year and drink himself numb on a bottle of Firewhiskey.

This year he had thought would be no different. The picture lay flat on his desktop, the uncorked bottle of alcohol stood beside it. Yet, he hesitated.

Without warning his office door swung open, revealing a stunning young witch dressed in a deep red velvet gown with flared sleeves stretching almost to the floor.

“Are you nearly ready honey, if we don’t leave now we’ll be late the party.” Her temporary vampire teeth peaked out through her blood red lips.

While his enchantingly beautiful wife was hard to resist looking at as she relaxed against the doorframe, a party on this night just felt wrong.

“I’m not coming.” He muttered, his hand automatically reaching for the bottle.

“But you promised…” She whispered, the grin dropping from her face.

“I’ve changed my mind, I think I’d prefer to be alone this evening.”

The hurt on his wife’s face could not be clearer; this wasn’t the first time he had let her down at the last minute.

“It’s time to move on Severus.” She removed her fake teeth, not wanting her next words to be slurred. “If you always insist on living in the past, those here in the present will get tired of waiting on you.”

While she had always been sympathetic to her husband’s emotions, she couldn’t help but feel rejected by him. That if Lily had somehow survived that night, she would be the one standing in her place instead.

Severus stared down at the old photograph, not daring to meet his wife’s watering eyes.

“Answer me this, Severus, because I’m only going to ask it once. If she were here. If it was me or her. Who would you choose?”

The question shouldn’t have come as a shock to the man, he had always suspected it had been on his wife’s mind. But hearing it out loud came as a blow to his chest. He knew the answer but it would hurt him deeply to say it aloud. So instead, he loosened the cap of his whiskey, poured himself a large glass and drank until only a few droplets remained.

A frustrated sigh filled the room.

“I’ll be back around 11. If your still conscious enough, feel free to join me in bed.” She snapped, slamming the door behind her.

Severus buried his head in his hands. Of course, he knew his ritual was unhealthy, and now that he was married it was well past time that he stopped it. But still, he worried that by giving up this day that he dedicated to his young love, he was somehow letting her down yet again. That it was his fault she died and by letting this routine go, she was somehow dying all over again. He worried that his memory of her might be forgotten if he didn’t spend at least one day a year wallowing in his grief for her.

He drained a second glass of whiskey.

Snape had fucked up big this time, and now his worry was he was at risk of losing his wife, the only woman who had ever truly loved him back.

Looking down the barrel of his third drink, Severus heard a faint knock on his office door.

“Come in.” He called out.

In bounded a girl no higher than his thigh, clad in shades of pink and purple tulle, paired with a set of translucent net wings and topped with a silver plastic tiara.

“Hi Daddy.” She beamed up at him.

“Hello sweetheart.” Severus picked the girl up by her armpits, placing her gently on his lap. “And what are you supposed to be?”

“Eh, I’m a fairy princess, duh?” She mumbled, brandishing her pretend wand at him.

“Of course, you are.” He nodded in understanding. “And the most beautiful one at that.”

His daughter blushed appreciatively, but almost immediately fell into a look of disappointment.

“Mummy said you’re not coming to the party again.”

“That’s true, darling. Daddy has to stay home this year.”

“Why?”

“I’m afraid I have things I need to do at home. But you and Mummy can still go to the party and have so much fun.”

“No.” She shook her head vigorously. “Mummy is always sad when you don’t come places. I don’t think she knows how to have fun without you Daddy.” The girl pouted.

Severus heart dropped in his chest. He knew his wife was disappointed in him staying at home, but he had always assumed she was out enjoying her time with her friends while he stewed in his self-pity.

“Doesn’t she dance with anyone at the party? I’ve never known your mother to miss out on an opportunity to frolic around a dancefloor.”

His daughter shook her head again, dark ringlet curls swishing through the air.

“She doesn’t even take part in the costume contests, which is rubbish because I bet she’d win every time. She just sits at a table all night watching everyone else have fun, it so boooooring.”

Severus’ mouth turned dry and he struggled to swallow past the lump in his throat. He couldn’t believe that the vibrant woman he had married would sit on the side-lines, dimming her light because of him. She was the life of the party, the one who went all in on everything she does, the one who makes everyone smile just by simply being in the same room them. She was everything he was not, which is why he loved her so much. He couldn’t bare the thought of her losing everything that makes her special because she always felt second best to a dead woman.

“Come with me.”

Severus took his daughter by her tiny warm hand and led her out of his office, but not before grabbing one last thing on his way out.

Yet another crack opened in his chest at the sight he stumbled upon in the kitchen.

His wife sat hunched over their dining table, sobbing into the palm on her hand, while tears poured down her cheeks, streaking her makeup as they fell.

“Y/N.” He croaked, laying his palm flat on her back.

The woman stiffened at this touch, quickly wiping away her tears and composing herself once more. She never let her husband see her cry.

“Oh, would you look at the time, sweetie.” Y/N gulped. “We better get going or else we’ll miss our chance to enter the costume contest, I really think we have a good chance at winning this year.” Her tone was unusually high pitched and alarmingly positive, but Severus could still hear the small sniffles she couldn’t repress every time she took a deep breath.

Y/N turned her back on Snape, rushing to the hooks by the door to grab her daughters coat and shoes.

“Y/N.” Severus repeated, his voice now full of pity.

“Like I said; we should be no later than 11, possibly earlier if this one has a sugar crash, but no need to wait up, I know you have more important things to do.” She didn’t dare even look in his direction.

Doing up the final button on her daughter’s coat, Y/N took her child by the hand and ushered her out the door.

“Y/N!” Snape said a final time, his tone firmer this time. “Look at me.” The woman froze on the spot but hesitated to face him.

Whispering in Delphine’s ear to go play, Y/N knew she couldn’t run from this conversation any longer.

Y/N forced her posture ramrod straight, tilted her chin up, took a long but shaky deep breath and finally turned to face her husband. It was obvious to him that she was trying her best to remain stoic, not wanting to show any weakness in front of the man who had none.

“You’ve made your choice, Severus. I can’t claim to understand it, but I’ll respect it. I know now that I’ll never be able to live up to the woman you first loved. I used to think that maybe if we were together long enough and I tried hard enough that I could be enough for you. I just wish I knew when I married you that would never be a possibility. I have always loved you, with every fibre of my being. I was foolish to think I deserved the same in return.”

“Y/N.”

“Stop saying my name. Please.” She squeezed her eyes shut tight, like it physically pained her to hear his voice. “Delphi deserves to have a stable home, so I’ll stay. But I can’t promise I’ll be the same woman I was. I’m sorry I couldn’t be enough for you.” A tear escaped Y/N’s eye, this time she let it fall. There was no need to be strong for a man who loved someone else.

“Shut up, you foolish woman.” Severus scorned.

“Excuse me? Don’t you dare talk to me like that I-”

“I made my choice a long time ago. I fell in love with an incredible woman. She was uncommonly kind, remarkably clever and surprisingly very funny. She had this ability to draw the attention of any crowd but somehow never made it about herself. Her smile could light up any room, turn any sad man happy. She would dance until her feet hurt, and then get up and do it again, even if it meant she had to go barefoot. She is singularly the most strikingly beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. I made my choice a very long time ago, Y/N.”

“I appreciate your honesty but I don’t want to hear it.” Another tear fell.

Snape slowly stepped towards his wife. He could see her shoulders tensing with every tap of his heel on the hardwood floor.

Severus wipes away her stray tears with his thumb, cupping Y/N’s face between two hands.

“The woman I fell in love with is so stubbornly strong, she has spent the last five years hiding away her tears from me. And it hurts me deeply that she thinks she could ever be second best to anyone. The day I met you was the day I realised I had never truly felt love before. There is no second place in my eyes, you have always been the only one for me.”

“But what about- “

“She was my friend.” He interjected. “And I failed her in the worst possible way. Just as I have done with you; by not showing you how much you mean to me, that changes today. I’m coming to the party.”

“You don’t have to.” She tried to escape his embrace.

“I want to.” He pulled her closer. “For you and for Delphine; the only two girls who have ever mattered to me.”

Reaching into his pocket, Severus revealed the old photograph of him as a teen. He felt his wife’s breath hitch at the sight of it. The source of all her anguish, one silly little picture he had obsessed over his whole life. He wouldn’t subject her to that anymore.

With one singular rip, Severus tore the portrait right through the centre, severing himself from the past.

“No more.” He promised. “I love you, Y/N. No one else.”

#severus snape #severus snape imagine #severus snape fanfiction #severus snape one shot #severus snape smut #snape x oc #snape x reader #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x you #snapetober #severus snape headcanon #severus snape x oc #severus snape x reader #snape x y/n #snily #snapetober 2024 #pro snape

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tragedybunny · 2 years ago

Note

Fun Astarion idea:

Tav finds a wish spell (does the Deck of Many Things behind Astarion's back and gets insanely lucky), and offers to use it to cure his Vampirism.

He would probably be annoyed at them for risking that, at least.

This one ended up short and sweet anon, but I didn't want to belabor it because I think it would be gilding the lily.

As requested, Tav draws from the Deck Many Things, Astarion is less than thrilled.

Gambles and Wishes - F!Reader x Astarion

“Astarion,” you pound on the door to your home’s library until you thought it would break.

“I’m still not talking to you,” he shouts back, not even getting close to the door.

It was locked from the inside and you consider an unlocking spell for a moment but stop. The lock was a boundary, and you hated to cross his boundaries, he didn’t get to have any for so long. Instead you opt to groan in frustration. “Please, this isn’t the healthiest way to solve our problems.”

“Neither is lying, but that didn’t stop you,” he shoots back and you cringe because he’s technically right.

“It wasn’t lying so much as not telling. And see, you’re talking to me so why don’t we stop shouting through the door.” To be honest, it was starting to make you nervous, he’d never been angry at you for this long before. Maybe your good intentions had taken things too far. “Please Love, Starry Sky,” your voice shakes.

The noise of the lock opening causes your heart to leap, but you're not sure if it’s dread or elation, so you just stand there, arms crossed around yourself until the door opens. Astarion stares at you with watery red eyes, “is that really how you want this relationship to work?”

“No, you’re right, but the possible reward was too great to deny.” Why can’t he understand, you’d do anything for him?

“So was the risk, you pulled a card from the Deck of Many things. You know magic, you know what could’ve happened.” He’s not shouting anymore, it’s so much worse. He’s barely whispering the words, and the tears are finally starting to spill over. “And you didn’t even consult me, we’re supposed to be equals in this.”

So much for those boundaries you didn’t want to cross, the realization started to eat you up inside. Protecting him wasn’t a good excuse anymore. “I’m so sorry. It’s just that I would risk anything for you and I knew you wouldn’t let me.”

Even amidst all the pain, the two of you find yourselves holding onto each other. “Sunlight, that’s because you always take risks for me. You need to worry more about yourself sometimes.” He sniffles into your shoulder, and you hope his tears are drying as you stroke his hair.

“I know, last one I promise. But I got what I wanted, one Wish spell, we can have the life we thought was impossible.” The life you wanted so badly to give him, the life he deserved.

Stepping back from you, he appraises you seriously. “Are you sure this is what you would use it on? You could have an Empire, become a Goddess. Not that you aren’t already, especially when it comes too- ” he smiles lasciviously.

“Astarion,” playfully you smack his shoulder, “behave yourself. And yes this is the only thing I could think of using it on. I couldn’t wish for anything more than you.”

“You’re still a silly girl who’s too nice to me.” New tears appear in his eyes you notice, but for an entirely different reason. “Well then I accept, on one condition of course.”

“And what is that?”

“You promise you’re stuck with me as long as we both live. I’m not used to being alive of course, I’m going to need someone to keep an eye on me for a long time. And let’s be honest, you’re the most qualified. I don’t think any of our friends would really be able to handle it.”

He’s rambling but you know it’s because he’s nervous, so you lean over and kiss him softly. “Deal. Now let’s make you an un-undead Love.”

#asks #anon asks #requests #astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x f!reader #astarion x tav #x reader #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #my fanfic #my writing

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npookie0 · 5 months ago

Text

Deranged Sweetness.

Spend your Valentine's Day with your favourite killers + a vigilante!

These are very short because I already made a big valentine thing with the vampire kc collab and because I want to write my oc stuff x

Happy Valentine's Day, sweet reader, this is my Valentine to you <3

You were sitting in your apartament, your face lit up by the screen of your computer. You were writing, filling the pages of your new story with words, a sea of words you were drowning in. Drowning not because it was overwhelming, but because you were losing yourself in the fantasy.

A serial killer short story, a day meant for love spent in a bloody way. It was almost like your reality, well unlike the main character of your story you were seated in your room working instead of having a crazy good time on a date with your partner.

You sighed and looked away from your computer, there was a gift on your desk, a personalised gift for your partner, you knew that _ would love it, after all you picked it out while thinking about your relationship.

Ding Dong!

The sound of the doorbell tore you away from your thoughts, you scrambled out of your chair and made your way to the front door shouting a quick "coming!" to whoever disturbed your peace in that moment.

You swung your door open, ready to see one of your neighbours complaining about a your package being sent to their door, but instead of the usual elderly person there was... no one.

You looked around and huffed in annoyance when you realised that there was truly nobody behind these doors. "Great, another new kid playing pranks." You said to yourself and grabbed your doorhandle to close to door, that's when you realised that something is laying on the doormat.

And that something was a simple white envelope signed "To Y'n."

Ronin Beaufort - Devilish Darling.

You were holding a letter in your hands, a bloody letter.

"Hey there, darlin'.

what? didn't expect me to Write You a love note, didja? hah, glad To make you surprised, baby. let's get to the point, 'case the guy i'm killing won't bleed out for long.

let's meet up tomorrow, you and me On a lil date for the sappiest days of them all. i'll Pick ya up so be ready at four.

~~ eternally yours - your devil x"

You chuckled to yourself and twirled the lily that was attached to the letter between your fingers.

"He's such a dork sometimes." You scoffed and went back to your room, placing the letter and flower next to your gift for Ronin. "I'll see you tomorrow, butcher." You whispered as if he could hear you.

You stood in Purgatory, a small box in your hands, you were standing amidst the rot and ruin. A perfect partner for The Butcher himself, one that is as is love with the filth as he is.

"Well, well, wouldja look at that! My favourite lil darlin' waiting for me so patiently." His voice came from behind you and his arm wrapped itself around your waist, like a snake around the tree in paradise.

"You wrote so I came."

"Good fuckin' choice, I wanted to break your front door if you wouldn't show up, darling." He said half joking half serious.

Any normal person would feel uncomfortable by now, leave and never come back. You're not a normal person though. Not after you kissed him that day.

You basked in his darkness, in his secrets, in the sin. You were in more in love with him everyday, with every new photo of a dead body, every text, call and touch.

You loved Ronin Beaufort more than the moon loves the sun.

"So, what did you plan for us today?" You asked, curiosity present in your voice.

Ronin turned you around, leaning his forehead on yours, looking into your eyes, the beautiful, endless void staring right into your very own soul.

"A surprise, you'll like it. Trust me."

He kissed you. His lips fitting perfectly against yours, like they were made to connect. You kissed back. Accepting this destructive paradise that Ronin gave you.

Your Valentine's with The Butcher already had a perfect start.

Valentin Viljoen - Vigilant Sweetheart.

A special letter was in your hands, neat hand writing and elegant words.

"My love.

I write this letter to invite you to spend this year's Valentine's Day with me. Don't worry dear, I already planned everything for our date.

To be honest I'm worrying I might have went overboard with my preparations, but I couldn't simply stop myself when it's such a special day with you.

I look forward to seeing you soon.

~~ With love. - Valentin."

You couldn't stop yourself from smiling after reading that letter.

V can be so adorable sometimes, and without realising it. You loved that part of him, well you loved every part of him, accepted him as a whole.

You pinned the letter to your corkboard and giggled softly.

"I can't wait to see you, my love."

You entered an art gallery, one that would be hard to enter unless you had either extremely good contacts or a lot of money. Valentin had both so it wasn't a big surprise to see this as the place of your date.

"My love, good afternoon." V greeted you as soon as you approached him. Taking your hand in his and kissing the top of it. "You look splendid." He complimented you, you could feel your face burning up.

V and his heart carried words... He's going to be the death of you.

"Ah, thank you." You flashed him a smile. "You look like fine gentleman yourself." You winked at him, his face flushed and he started stuttering.

"Ah- I- thank you..." He coughed to recollect himself. "Should we get started with out date?"

Valentin asked, outstretching his hand to you, a charming smile formed on his face. His aura was inviting, loving, soft - you would be an idiot to not love this man.

"Yes, of course." You took his hand with a giggle and walked deeper into the art gallery.

What a wonderful day it will be...

Maria de la Rosa - Angelic Love.

A sweet scented letter was laying on your desk, a red rose next to it.

"Hey sweetheart.

I hope your evening is going great, when I'm writing this I am in break between two photo shoots. It's not as exhausting as it was when Finian was still around, so don't worry about it too much.

If you're free tomorrow, maybe we could spend some time together? On a picnic or in a cafe, it's your choice sweetie. I'll be waiting for your call.

~~ Sending kisses. - Maria de la Rosa. "

Maria walked up to you, her beautiful blonde-pink hair being swayed by the gentle win.

Her eyes lighting up in excitement when your eyes locked with hers. She's so beautiful, you find it hard to believe that someone as special as Angel would have trouble with her past lovers, after all you would do everything for that woman.

"I'm so happy to see your sweetheart." She cupped your face with her hands and leaned in to gently kiss you.

"You don't even know how excited I am! I couldn't sleep, you were the only person I could think about today." You replied, earning yourself a giggle from her.

"Awh, who's a cutie?" She teased.

"Mmm you?"

Her cheeks turned bright pink and she looked away.

"Jeez, who gave you the right to be such a tease?"

You chuckled at her response and kissed her forehead.

"Awh, did I make Maria de la Rosa feel embarrassed?"

"Not as much as Ronin." She nudged your side with her elbow. "I'm joking, I'm joking. Don't get all huffy now sweetheart, you'll miss the picnic."

"You're lucky I love you so much." You scoffed jokingly.

"That I am." She replied with a soft smile.

A romantic date for the biggest romantic of them all.

Misaki Katuso - Chaotic Baby.

A letter in your hands, doodles on the back and sides, cats, you, you as a cat... Just your regular Misaki.

"Heyyy you dork!

Clean up your schedule for tomorrow because we're heading out!

... Hopefully ...please... really please!!!!

Let's spend tomorrow together, as partners in crime. the crime is being so amazing. ;p

See you tomorrow!

~~ I hope you liked the gift. - Misaki :3"

Their trailer was decorated for the occasion, star shaped string lights hanging everywhere, a batch of freshly baked cupcakes on the small table, small decorations everywhere.

It all looked cute, chaos and all, it fits Misaki like a glove, even if you wish that they could live in a better way. Live with you... that would be like a dream come true, having them next to you at every occasion.

They smiled at you, beaming from ear to ear, when you finally looked at them.

"How do you like it?" They asked, their tone mostly excited, still a little bit anxious. They wanted your opinion to be positive, after all you are their partner, their life line, they really care about your thoughts.

"I like it, it screams you from the moment I entered." You replied and pinched her cheeks. Misaki scoffed.

"Owie! Be careful this is the skin of a lover Y\n."

"Stop with the twilight references and let's go outside watch a movie." You ruffled their hair and watched their playfully annoyed expression with nothing but sheer joy and love in flowing through your veins.

You're truly in love with them.

You were happy they loved you back, them and all their craziness.

If there are mistakes I'll fix them tmrw after I wake up </3

BYE BYE

#killer chat #fanfic #gender neutral reader #killer chat ronin #fluff #angel killer chat #v killer chat #misaki killer chat #ronin beaufort

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katzkinder · 5 months ago

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Oh right another thing before I forget

Guide book confirms that neither subclass nor Servamps have any reproductive capability 😔 no Alicein dhampirs for me <-probably going to ignore that bit as it suits me anyway

At the same time, Strike says that vampires in and of themselves are more like illusions than living beings and their appearance and even bodily functions rely on both self perception and outward perception soooo (example: if you or they believe they have a heartbeat or should have a heartbeat, they will) TECHNICALLY, a vampire MIGHT be able to self suggestion themselves into having the necessary components to have a child. Although it would prooobably require a steady diet of blood to maintain any significant changes they want to make to themselves or their body…?

Apparently this is also why characters like Belkia and Higan can undergo such drastic physical changes, becoming a literal doll and a much younger version of himself, respectively. Also related to the weird ways their clothes work, like Lawless’s scarf appearing after he has a mental breakdown over Ophelia, and later the way it starts to mimic the wings on Licht’s backpack as they get closer, Ildio’s tattoo changing shape, Kuro’s coattails moving, Freya’s dress changing from one panel to another (I think), Sakuya’s suspenders, and the Wrath pair’s badass wardrobe change in general.

If a vampire wants to badly enough, they can change anything about themselves, if I’m understanding what was said correctly (does this mean Belkia’s hair isn’t actually dyed? I’m choosing to think it is and he instead uses a vampire’s ability for illusions and hypnotism to hide when the roots are coming in lol)

Presumably this would also mean that Higan and Hugh aren’t the only vampires who can adjust their physical ages to some degree. I’m still uncertain whether Lily’s baby appearance was something he did on purpose, a side effect of inner turmoil with his demon, or related to the contract in some fashion. The reason I’m not sure if it’s a contract thing despite him making it pretty clear he could understand everything around him perfectly when he struck out at Tsurugi that one time is because Strike also revealed the distance limit consequences for the other pairs, and Lust’s was stated to be turning into an infant, so?? Not to mention Lily is the only Servamp whose Item wasn’t broken specifically by Tsubaki. Shrugs??

Anyway, I wonder if they can only go to ages they’ve experienced…? Hugh is an odd case where his body never grew up but the personality in control of that body absolutely got old lol. Oh man, now that he can use Tetsu’s coffin to grow up… Does that mean there will come a point when he stays an adult a majority of the time to care for his aging Eve… My heart……

But yeah, uhhh basically what I’m asking is… If Sakuya wanted it badly enough, could he grow up alongside his friends…… Could he act out the life he never got to live originally and do so knowing it’s not a lie because the people that matter already know the truth.

Can he move forward and learn to think of himself as a story teller instead of a liar

#servamp #kat’s katerwauling #servamp guide book #hugh the dark algernon iii #snow lily #sakuya watanuki #btw dhampirs are the mythological offspring between a vampire and a human #fully expecting someone to make this about mpreg btw #and if no one was and I just put it in your head when you didn’t want it there #sorry about that #pregnancy mention #ask to tag

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aaazade · 6 months ago

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HOUSTON WE HAVE A PROBLEM ── EPISODE TWO 𖤐

⤷ 𝄞⨾ 𝟎𝟎𝟐. 𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐖𝐎: 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐙𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐒

AUTHOR'S NOTE : i do not own any of these characters except my own. minors, please do not interact as this is mature content with dark and sexual themes. all of my characters are black women so please respect that as you read! all lowercase is intended in this writing. ( i love choso's eyebags, please don't kill me when y'all read this). i'm so grateful for all the love on my last post! PAIRING: rockstar!sukuna x tourmanager!blackreader RATING: 18+, again mdni WARNINGS: yandere-ish moments, rock band, reader is black, usage of being held hostage, dírty talk, vampire!sukuna, dubcon, biting, drinking blood, slowburn, eventual smut, sort of angsty, stalker!sukuna, set in mostly southern cities, attempted mind control, secret society, royalty, masked men, usage of foul language, fire usage, sleep watching, sukuna's pov

𝐬𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: when tour manager!reader gets sucked into the rock world after big time group ‘dark curse’ seeks her out to plan and arrange their tour in the us. heinous secrets unfold about the group as she gets closer to the pink haired lead singer in the ‘bone demon’ mask. does she run for the hills or does she play cat and mouse? find out in "houston, we have a problem!"

check out the rest of the series here!

“cheers!”

sloshes of maltreated liquor stung the back of his throat with vigor. it was appalling how humans deserted their thinking and ration for a few moments of daze and desire. small murmurs of chatter follow the background’s ambience, the team’s dinner party going slower than he imagined. truth to be told, he would be on the tour bus devouring a long awaited meal if you were knee to knee, pressing up against his arm to make room for the others at the table.

ryomen’s eyes cut to your hazy, relaxed figure. slouching against the padded oak wood chair, you were currently in a heated debate with your sister about… well actually he didn’t quite pick up what it was about.

no, ryomen was occupied being fixated on the curves and dips of your plush duo-colored lips, the way your eyes glowed with a soft brilliance at the suggestions of greasy foods and delights, how your ringlets of your curls fell pass the juncture of your clavicle and shoulder down to brush against your waist.

how dare you enchant him? make him feel as if he has an obligation to be in your orbit, an obligation to admire you as if you aren’t human like the rest of them.

pathetic.

if this damn bind didn’t constrain him, the easiest option would be to drain you and leave your body by some unknown murky riverside in the depths of a foreboding cathedral of towering greenery.

he sneers instead, choosing the route most comparable to an insolent pubescent teen.

one long, slender finger prods the seam at your waist of your wine red dress, your rambling coming to a halt. your eyes flaring at the growing lift at the corners of his mouth.

“fuck do you want, sukuna?” your eyebrows furrowed together, a cute little pout settling on your plush lips.

just as threatening as a baby tiger trying to show off their claws.

shit, he felt his blood rushing south like some measly fucking loser who hasn’t seen the touch of a woman in his life. all because you batted your lashes and spoke to him.

again, pathetic.

you had ignored him all night, opting to throw shots back and participating in team building strategies and other useless parlors. he was no fool, your scent usually stood akin to the smell of a fresh waterfall drifting into a pool of something floral. maybe water lilies? even roses. but now, it’s laced with the burning embers of something sweet. honey.

arousal. he was sure of it.

even now, flushed together as everyone else had risen up to find the dance floor, your eyes showed your true hues of emotions. red, yellow, pinks-

“would you fight me if i said you..?” your nose scrunched up in disgust, pushing the planes of his chest to seek out your sister.

guess it was time to go, huh?

“ugh, shut the fuck up! i’m leaving-” he couldn’t take you seriously with you stumbling and hiccuping your way down the steps, entering into the sea of people below.

and as much as he would love to sit and grovel, his heart felt like it was breaking at its enclosure at the sight of your growing distance with him.

he groaned, taking after you with long strides. his heavy footsteps followed behind the nimble wobble of yours, grasping at your wrist.

“look just-”

“no!” you whipped around shoving a manicured nail in the brunt of his chest. “i know there’s something-.... something that lurks in the shadows with you. i’m no fool, so stay away from m- mmph!”

smart girl. he’ll give you your credit. at least you have some survival instincts and wit about you. not only that, but you had the gall to stand your ground against him, huh?

a dark sneer rippled from his tongue, the kind of laugh that made the air thick and heavy. a heavy hand came up to cup your jaw.

your drunken fury simmered right back down to the tender laps of waves.

those treacherous pulses of heat ate at his control. eating at his will to not to take you into the back of some shitty storage room and show you the purge of darkness you think he hides.

not yet, you need more time.

ryomen tipped his head back to find some semblance of control, wielding the hunger and lust to draw back.

fucking woman, you driving him insane like this must be some sort of sorcery.

“go sit your ass down, now. your sister is fucking fine with those two freaks. ” he commanded, meeting the gaze in your eyes. your stance never wavered, the fire in your eyes refusing to be snuffed out.

yet, you ended up with your ass in a chair.

better than that, before he hung up the phone call to his personal driver, your eyes fluttered shut. the music thrumming in the background lulled you to fall asleep all less than five minutes. your head couldn’t hold it’s weight in your unconscious state, tilting until he had to clasp his hand to your forehead to catch it before it thudded against the table. opting to just sling you in his arms princess style, his boots began the journey, hitting the gravel outside of the building.

the city hummed its gentle tune in the background of the car, each passing street light catching the planes and dips that make the features on your face stand out. your lashes fluttered on the tops of your cheek with every inhale you take, chest rising in miniscule measurements. he felt a desperate urge to swallow you in his grip and hold you tight against his icy skin.

when the car rolled to a stop, ryomen cradled you in his arms once again, stepping into the shadows as a cloud of crimson swirled around the both of them, only dispersing seconds after in the middle of your hotel room like the parting of a fog.

his slender palm caressed your temple, the ice-kissed temperature of his lips pressing a sweet kiss there as he lowered you into the soft cushion of your sheets, his parting goodbye.

with another unnecessary breath, he rose up, striding over to pull the balcony door open.

“goodnight, my little tiger. you put up a good fight today.”

he slipped in the chilled gust of darkness, scarlet eyes lazily observing his surroundings as he appeared again across the street under a pole light. he could see you from his view below, from the tiny flickers of emotion in your expression as you dream dotingly to the soft twitch in your balled up fist uncurling as though you were reaching out from someone. for him.

“here, take it old fart.”

the younger ones these days are so disrespectful.

ryomen tilted his head over his shoulder to meet choso’s bored, chestnut irises ringed with that familiar, awful looking purple bags. pastel pink strands wisped away as he ran his hands through the base of his scalp.

“brat…” he grumbled, snatching the damn stick away in sheer pettiness.

there was an understanding of silence for a second, before choso huffed out a cloud of smoke.

“are you ever going to tell her? she’ll find out sooner than later, y’know.” he stated, rolling his eyes at ryomen’s antics as the second cloud of smoke filled the ice chilled air around them.

“i know that-” he growled. “i’d promptly advise you to shut the fuck up. i didn’t bother you when you were a pathetic loser for your wife.”

but despite the intensity of emotion behind his voice, choso simply shrugged his leather clad shoulders, taking his long strides away from from the 6’3 man. as he departed ryomen was so sure he hear that fucker grumble under his breath.

“at least i don’t have to stalk my wife like some old ass creep. wait until hayden finds you ‘edward-ing’ her sister.”

to fucking hell with that brat, the duo freaks, and their bonded. even if she is your sister, nobody will stop him from making you his.

conjuring forth a spark that gradually speared into a large crimson hue of a flame in his hand, he seeks you out till the sun bleeds a path of light through your balcony and wakes you to the day’s journey.

and when the sun sets and your mind drifts off into a careless realm of dreams… there he is again.

watching. waiting. protecting. yearning.

the usual humid heat of atlanta had simmered down into a drizzle calm. the streets were quite muted and lackluster from its usual loud blares of horns and activity. shades of greys and browns muddles its unique colors into a foggy storm. inside, the light flooded the room into a dim shade adjusting to the small quantity of natural rays from outside.

ryomen preferred this weather, something dreary. the type of weather that you could slip and disappear into the shadows and no one would bat an eye. the tapping rhythm of the rain dripped down the windows, capturing the spark of each flash with it.

“okay, everyone big smiles! one, two, three.”

his expression didn’t change much, of course. with each click next to a fan, ryomen stood tall, only a hint of impish tilt to the corner of his lips.

you stood maybe a good twenty feet away, your sister conducting the line to know that each individual gets enough time. your makeup was all done up, rocking a new hairstyle as you took long, away shots for promo.

he didn’t understand the schematics of it, but today it was a honey blonde, fading into a lighter shade of platinum around your waist.

a tinge of possessiveness curled around his ribcage.

‘pink would look better on you.’ he settled, a needy image rampaging through the cornered angles of his mind about how fucking gorgeous you would look splayed out on his onyx sheets with matching pale pink-

“okay, sukuna. one last picture.”

he slouched, forgetting to keep up with what’s natural to humans and what’s seen as… eerie, abnormal.

appearances, he supposes.

if not for shitty rules and customs he once was a part of, drakari traditions would have no substance on his life.

the last fan staggered on the podium taking the center of the group. he smelt… something pungent radiating from the male, face covered with a black mask.

but his eyes.. they were beady. like the life was sucked out from him, leaving only the remains of an outer shell.

“i remember something..” the man’s voice croaked alive, fingers shaky as they traveled to the edge of his facial mask.

“i remember.. that day that our village burned… so much smoke that the surrounding villages couldn’t see what really happened. what you really did-”

“alright guys! three-”

“is that right?” ryomen’s brows jumped at the man's tone, snarling, his chaos magic swirling, clawing like an animal to be released as the man taunted with those same beady eyes fusing into gold.

“two-”

“emperor ryomen sukuna”

“one!”

a loud cackle left the greasy man the same time a ‘pop’ echoed, heat spilling into the room at degrees to turn bones into ashes. screams ignited at the sight of flames blistering through the plaster covered walls in the building, crowds of people merging together to find any possible exit.

yet with each face he searched, none bared close to the resemblance of yours.

“fuck!” he roared over the crackles of flames and fear induced screams.

all five heightened senses working together as something ill made its way to his still heart at the thought of you stuck under rubble, lungs collapsing as you fight for your last breath.

no, not today. not ever.

and there it was, the scent of the rushing waterfall and bright lilies. he found you grasping desperately at multiple shoulders, presumably searching for the soft touch of your sister.

he swears some more profanities under his breath, clasping your shaky body under his. by the time your eyes opened after you blinked, you stood barreled under him in the middle of the park trail seven blocks down the street.

ryomen studied the contours on your face morphing from shock, to confusion, then finally landing in.. horror.

“n-no. no! how do we get here like that? ryomen…. where is my sister? oh my fucking god, is she still in there?” that unyielding boldness you carried had you clawing at him as if you could escape his grasp. though, you still shook like a leaf.

“my sister- ah! let the fuck go of me! she could be still in there! and you! with your freaky shit, what the fuck are you-”

his hands find their way to your cheeks again, clasping on as he bends forward. the both of you are only centimeters apart, your eyes searching for something found and strong behind the depths of those scarlet irises.

“breathe.”

his only command, and yet you sucked in the crisp morning air, blowing out the smears of smoke you escaped from.

“your sister is fine.. so just breathe, mama. just.. breathe. i’ll tell you everything later..”

those duo freaks would eat the world alive if anything happens to hayden.

ugh, especially blonde freak.

a strong chortle rings through his mind, affirming the hayden is indeed just with freak one and two.

now that not a hair was stinged on your head, maybe it’s time he goes to visit that zenin bastard.

it may end with the last remaining zenin’s heart clutched in his hand, as he sits on his throne in his court full of blood and bones.

all work belongs to to @aaazade please do not copy, translate without permission, or post my work! let me know if anyone would like to be apart of my taglist as i post each episode. hope you enjoyed episode two and be sure to comment for more!

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