This is my first time creating a list of future works in this blog.
I usually publish things basing on my creativity at the moment, but since I've been thinking about the volturi, some ideas of the Volturis past make me creat some plots.
Since SM has been focusing more in the Bella, Jacob, Renesmee and Edward story.
I want to create some back stories of the volturi, and give them the justice they didn't have in the books.
I must clarify that for the headcanons, I am based more than anything on what we have seen in the film, the books, the illustrated guide and the historical context in which it probably happened. And sometimes in some headcanons that have been in the twilight fandom.
Marcus was the son of a famous politician, one day his life changed consequence of a revenge that let him alone before he gets a vampire that propose him an interesting plan.
🩸Aro Headcanons (7 September) Already posted
Have you ever wonder how was Aro human life? How was his gift while he was still human? What make him desire power so much to become the king of vampires?
🩸Cauis headcanons (17 January) Already Posted/ Part 2 (Coming soon)
Cauis was a soldier an expert in war strategy, how someone like this ends helping other two vampires to create a empire in the vampire world?, How his special personality capture Athenadora? How did he met Aro?
🩸The fall of the first Empire (The Romanian War) (many parts)
The fall of the first vampire reign, the beginning of the reign of the volturis, the fight of the most powerful covens that existed.
As a coven so strong that it did not care that humans knew its existence because they knew its power fell before a coven that aspired to steal the power to decide on one of the most powerful species on the planet.
🩸The cursed angels
How did children end up being more dangerous than vampires themselves once they were converted? How was the hunt for the immortal children? how many went? how many covens were destroyed by them?
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SUMMARY: The Queen considers whether it is time to move on with her life, but the past is not so easily buried.
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 4 ½ | PART 5 | PART 5½
MASTERLIST | ROBB STARK MASTERLIST
A/N: All will be revealed in time 👀 Please reblog, comment or send an ask so I can hear what you think! Really hope you enjoy this one 🫶🏾🥰
The rain up North is nothing like the summer showers you experienced back home. This rain stings and bites at your skin as it falls, but it doesn't send you back inside under the shade.
Today is the first time in a few days that you have been outside, breathing in the fresh air. Your moon blood came particularly harsh this time around and left you bedridden for two days. It was a terrible ordeal, but it allowed you to see another side to your husband.
This morning, you awoke with no pains. Although your body is still tired and weak, here you stand, in the rain, embracing the Northern cold and eagerly awaiting nightfall because surprisingly, you have missed spending your evenings with Robb.
Your thoughts are interrupted by Amiria calling your name.
"My Lady, what are you doing out in the cold?" she sounds panicked as she wraps a blanket around your shoulders, "Seven hells! You'll make yourself ill!"
You chuckle as you welcome the blanket and follow her back under the shade, "It's alright, I wasn't out there for long."
Amiria runs the blanket over your damp hair. "It is a good thing I found you. Any longer and you might catch a fever," she presses the back of her hand to your cheek, "You have just been unwell, you should not tempt fate, my Lady."
"I apologise, I did not mean to worry you," you smile warmly and give her a short hug to reassure her, "Found me? Were you looking for me?"
"Yes, Lady Stark has requested your presence in her quarters."
You're taken aback by this. Lady Stark, though pleasant since the wedding, has never once asked to speak to you alone.
"Did she tell you why she wants to see me?"
Amiria looks up at you and chuckles when she sees the nervousness that has settled into you.
"Don't be afraid," she says in a tone that suggests your anxiety is amusing to her, "She did not seem to be in a terrible mood."
"That is good," you breathe a sigh of relief, but your eyes remain apprehensive.
Amiria smirks and takes you by the arm, pulling you towards your chambers, "Come. Let us get you dry for the Queen Mother."
***
As soon as you enter the parlour, Catelyn rises to greet you at the door, embracing you before you even have a chance to curtsey. When she releases you, her smile turns into a frown as she cups your face with her hands.
"You still look a bit unwell, darling," she says, looking between your eyes, a hint of pity in her voice, "Come and sit, let us have some tea. Perhaps it will help you feel better."
You follow her to where a small table is set with all your favourite treats and a teapot to share between the two of you. She takes a seat in an armchair on one side of the table and you sit opposite her on the other side of the table. Without a word she begins to pour the tea for the both of you.
"Does it normally trouble you so?" she asks as she hands you a cup.
You take a grateful sip, smiling when that familiar warmth begins spreading in your chest. "Sometimes the Mother offers mercy and my bloods pass painlessly," you say, "Other times I am confined to my bed chambers for some days."
"Poor girl," her forehead wrinkles when she frowns, "I'll speak to Maester Luwin about giving you something that might take away your pain."
"Thank you, my Lady."
There's a pause in the conversation as you sip the mint tea and enjoy the warmth of the fire burning. Your worries begin to fade away as you relax in Catelyn's company.
“I see you’ve been spending much more time with my son as of late,” she says, breaking the silence, “I hear you’re with him in his study into the late hours of the night.”
It's an abrupt turn from your initial conversation, but you suppose it is normal for her to ask about her son.
“We talk mostly. Sometimes I sew while he works.”
A thin smile forms on Catelyn’s lips as she hums in response, “And what is it that you talk about?”
The question catches you off guard. It’s a bit impolite to ask about private conversations, but you would never dare to point out such a thing to your good-mother.
“I tell him about my family, what it was like growing up in the South,” you say hesitantly, “He talks about you, his family…his father and sisters.”
You can’t help but pity her when you see how she deflates at the mention of her lost family. Her eye twitches as she looks away, trying to stop her mask from slipping.
“He tells me stories about all of them as children,” a tender smile forms on your lips as you think back to the conversations, “It makes me wish I had siblings of my own to fight and play with.”
Catelyn nods again, but her smile seems even more strained than before. Your brows furrow in concern as you reach out to touch her knee.
“Lady Stark?”
She presses one hand to her lips, taking a moment to collect herself. Not a single tear falls from her eyes, though they come close. After only a few seconds, she blows out a breath and sits up properly in her chair, composed once again.
“He rarely talks about them with me,” she whispers, eyes downcast.
“I think he finds it easier to talk about them with someone who doesn’t know them,” you reassure her, “I assume it feels more like recalling a fond memory to a stranger than it does reminiscing about loved ones he’s lost.”
She nods her head, though she seems unconvinced. You can’t imagine the pain and fear she must be feeling knowing that her son has made an enemy of the same family who have her daughters in their grasp. That he is in open rebellion against the King who took her husband's head.
"He must trust you quite a bit."
You consider it for a moment, "I hope so. I would like to think he does."
"How have you been finding all of this? Being here, married to Robb?"
It is not a simple question to answer. In truth, you did not expect this much time to pass with your heart still refusing to fully open to Robb, nor his to you. Your mother always told you that falling in love is quick and simple, and in the past you found that to be true. But for some reason, it is slow and difficult with Robb.
A month since your wedding and you still hold each other at arms' length, merely allowing glimpses into your souls on occasion.
Instead of telling her an outright lie, you choose to focus on the good. "Your family have been so accommodating, as has Robb," you plaster a smile on your lips, "It has taken some time to adjust, but everyone has been so kind."
Judging by the look on Catelyn's face, she knows that you are hiding something. She doesn't come across as the kind of woman who is fooled easily.
“This may be crude of me, but I must ask," she begins, leaning forward ever so slightly, "This is your second time on the bloods since the wedding?"
It only takes you a second to decipher what exactly she is asking. You nod quickly, suddenly very uncomfortable.
"Have you and Robb–?"
"We have not."
"The marriage is unconsummated?"
You nod again, averting your gaze in embarrassment. Catelyn looks off to the side, deep in thought. Each passing second only serves to make your stomach turn and your palms sweat.
Eventually, she turns back to you, but there is no anger nor shame in her eyes, only determination.
"I truly do not wish to make you uncomfortable, but I must stress the importance of your consummation." She speaks in a matter-of-fact tone that is only slightly intimidating.
"Your marriage is not valid until the act is done. And I need not remind you of your duty to each other as husband and wife, and as rulers of the North."
Children.
"I understand."
"Then why, may I ask, are you waiting?"
This time, there is a hint of frustration in her tone. She looks at you with eyes so piercing that for a moment you forget that you are not a child being scolded by her Septa. Yet, it is somehow worse because the person asking the question is your good-mother.
"We only wish to know each other better before we–" you cut yourself off to find the right words, "There is still time–"
"There is no time," Catelyn's patience seems to have worn thin, "Robb will return to the frontline before long. And only the gods know if he will come back."
That thought sends a chill down your spine. Robb may not be some great love, but the mere idea of his demise makes your heart sink to your stomach.
"I have been in your shoes before, Y/N," she says, her tone softer, "I did not know Ned very well when I first met him. I certainly didn't love him either. That comes with time."
Her words are optimistic. Reassuring. And they get you thinking.
"We all have our roles to play. It is time you and Robb started doing your part."
***
"She wants us to consummate."
Amiria sits on a stool beside your bath, washing all the grease and dirt out of your hair while you soak in the warm water.
"But His Grace said that you do not have to if you don't wish to, no?" she asks.
You sigh deeply, "That is true. But I'm starting to believe that she may be right."
The longer you think about her words, the more they cut deep. You have been ignoring the reality of your situation, going through the motions and capitalising on Robb's busy schedule to avoid hard truths.
Robb is your husband now, and the North is your home. That will never change. This is not King’s Landing where you will have to endure for a time and be rescued. This is your life, forever. And deep down in your heart you know that if you are to start a new life, you must let go of the old one.
Without warning, tears begin to well in your eyes and blur your vision. This is not the life you imagined for yourself. To never experience love, you were prepared for – you always knew that your marriage would be arranged, and if love never happened with your husband, you would’ve been content given he was kind and gentle.
But this? To have loved and lost it? To know what it feels like and know that you will never have it again? It’s a pain you would not wish on anyone.
And Robb. He is kind, and he cares…somewhat. But he does not love you. And if he loves Elyse the way you have loved, then you know he will never love you. That is the hard truth.
You bury your head in your hands and let the tears flow. Amiria crouches down beside the bath and wraps her arms around you, letting you sob into her shoulder.
"I hate to see you in such pain, my Lady," she says, her voice thick with emotion.
The day you left King's Landing, your heart was shattered. A part of you has been holding on to him for so long because it is a reminder that what you shared was real. And how could you repay the love he gave by letting it go?
Selfishly, you want him to be happy, to have moved on. You pray that he has forgotten you. Maybe then you would not be riddled with guilt over letting him go. The truth is, you have responsibilities that you can shirk no longer. And you cannot be a good wife with him still in your heart.
With a deep, shaky breath, you pull away from Amiria and wipe your eyes, splashing your face with the bath water to calm yourself down.
Once your heart stops racing and your breathing relaxes, you turn to Amiria, "Could you fetch my robe, please?"
She hesitates momentarily before doing it. You climb out of the bath and slip on the robe, walking to your dresser with Amiria following close behind.
"Help me dress."
Your sudden switch from distress to being resolute is alarming to Amiria. She stares in bewilderment as you begin to get ready. "Where are you going?"
"I always visit Robb in the evenings," you say, "It is the perfect time to raise the topic of consummation."
Amiria places a hand on your shoulder to grab your attention. She looks straight into your eyes and asks sincerely, "Are you sure that you are ready to take that step?"
You know that you are not ready, but you also know that it is time to stop living in the past. It is exhausting, and it hurts you more than it makes you happy. You want to believe that you can be happy here, if you only give it a chance.
"Yes. I'm sure."
***
It’s not a question that Robb has a face any woman would love to look at. You see the way women giggle and blush when he smiles as he walks past them. The way they always seem to crowd when he spars with Ser Rodrik. You understand, you like to look at him too. He’s really quite…beautiful, but it’s more than that.
His guard is never lower than when he is in this solar working, and you like to watch the way he does things when he is not concerned with appearances. These are the moments when you see the truest version of him. His brows knitting together when he reads something particularly unpleasant, the way he occasionally looks up at you and offers a sweet smile. He curses sometimes. It used to shock you, but you find it amusing now.
Your admiration grows the more you see him like this, constantly fighting through mental and physical fatigue to lead his people and be there for his family. When he talks to you about them, you wonder if he has even had time to properly grieve his father, or if that is yet another thing he has pushed aside for the sake of his responsibilities. It breaks your heart to think so.
Most mornings you wake up alone because he is up by the crack of dawn. And at night, you leave him here in this study, working into the late hours. You see the bags under his eyes and the way he pauses every so often to massage his shoulders and neck. He takes on…too much.
Sitting across from him tonight, all you can think about are Catelyn's words. How do you even begin to discuss such a sensitive topic? Especially when he is under so much pressure?
Your mother says it is time we consummated our marriage. Shall we start making love?
Ridiculous.
Robb stops his writing for a moment to crack his knuckles and stretch his back, and as he puts down his writing quill, he looks up and catches you staring. You quickly tear away your gaze, returning to your embroidery and ignoring the rising heat on your neck and chest.
Robb knows you well enough now that he can tell when there is something disturbing you.
"What is on your mind?" he asks, leaning forward to give you his full attention.
This is your opportunity to broach the subject, but for some reason, you are unable to form the words. So you tell him something else.
“Just that I...forgot to tell you something. I went into town the day before I fell ill.”
Robb sits up a little, visibly concerned, “Alone?”
“No, Amiria went with me. And a few guards.”
He relaxes then, leaning forward once again.
“We took some food and clothes to the homes sheltering the children orphaned in this war,” you say, “I wanted to be sure they’re being taken care of.”
He looks pleasantly surprised. “That is very kind of you. I had not thought to do that yet.”
You wave a hand and shake your head. “Of course not. You already have so much on your plate,” you gesture to his cluttered desk, “I have never ran a household much less an entire castle before, so I leave it to your mother. I’m just trying to do what little I can to support your efforts.”
You return to your embroidery, but Robb doesn't take his eyes off you. He knows there is still something eating at you and yet you refuse to say it. Suddenly he's full of regret. Perhaps, if he had not been so determined to dislike you at first, you would not still hide behind your wall.
Eventually, he looks away from you with a sigh, picking up a letter from his unopened pile and breaking the seal. You glance up at him, relieved that he has broken his scrutinising stare.
“What are you reading?” you ask, attempting to change the topic.
“A report from our scouts.”
You sit up properly, now curious, “How goes the search for Arya?”
Robb puts down the letter a little forcefully and run his hands through his hair in frustration. That about tells you all you need to know.
"Have you thought any more about what I suggested? About the Owls?”
This is a conversation that has already been had before. Multiple times. Robb turned down your father's offer, and he has rejected yours as well each time you've brought it up. At this point, he is tired of reiterating his position.
“I have already told you that I have no intention of using them,” his tone is clipped when he speaks, and he attempts to busy himself with other work to end the conversation.
His efforts are futile because you refuse to let it go, “They would be inside the Red Keep within hours of receiving your letter–“
“I don’t want to have this conversation again.”
“–and they would have Sansa on the road back to Winterfell within days.”
“I am not going to use spies.”
“Sansa is not–,” you pause mid-sentence to gather yourself, “Sansa is not safe with Joffrey.”
Robb sighs deeply and rubs his tired eyes with his hands, "Do you think I am unaware of that?”
“I just don’t understand why you won’t use them,” you press, “Do you doubt their capabilities?”
“No, I am sure they are very capa–“
“Because they managed to smuggle me out of King’s Landing without issue,” you cut him off, “Daenerys Targaryen is alive in Essos today because of them.”
“Enough!”
You flinch at the sound of his raised voice. Instantly your heart starts racing, the hairs on your body standing on end. For a second, only a mere second, you are back in King's Landing, and you are terrified.
“I am fighting this war with honour,” he continues, his voice now back to normal, “This is the last time I will have this discussion, do you understand me?”
He stares you down for a few seconds until he thinks you have dropped it. You wait until he relaxes some before speaking.
“Your enemy would pay a starving child two coppers and a loaf of stale bread to poison your supper,” you say in the calmest tone you can muster, “Spying ought not be where you draw the line.”
You rise to your feet and walk to the door, ignoring Robb’s burning gaze. As you place your hand on the handle, you turn to him once more.
“I don’t suppose you will be retiring for the night?”
He begins shuffling some papers on his desk, “No, I still have much to do before the morn.”
You don’t believe him, but you nod anyways. “Very well, then. I shall bid you goodnight.”
Once you step outside and close the door, you lean against the wall of the corridor, sucking in the cold air and placing a hand over your chest to slow your heart. Hot tears burn behind your eyes – not of sadness, but of anger.
It took one word – one little word – and you were back there at the lowest point you've ever been. It's a reminder that all the pain and hurt inflicted by that monster is still inside you. And it hurts that Robb was the one to bring it to the surface.
***
When Robb eventually retires for the night, he half-expects you to be waiting for him, ready to continue the conversation from earlier, so he's surprised to find you curled up under the blankets on your side of the bed.
A few of the candles in the room are still lit – he knows you left them burning for his benefit. He uses the dim lighting to make his way around the room, removing his jerkin shirt as he does so. It gets hot in the room because even with the natural heating from the hot springs, you still insist on having a fire built every night before you sleep. Robb doesn't object to this because he knows you can't sleep in the freezing cold – but it does mean he now sleeps in as little clothes as possible.
He hears you stir when he walks to your side of the room and blows out the candles there, but he ignores it and returns to his side before climbing into the bed. As always, he turns his back to you, stares into the darkness and listens to your breathing.
Steady.
"I know you're awake," he says after a moment.
He's not sure you know that you snore when you sleep. It's not bothersome at all, the sound resembles the light purring of a kitten. On nights where sleep eludes him, the sound helps to calm his mind and lull him into a slumber.
That is how he knows that you are only pretending to sleep.
You don't stir, and after a while he assumes that you are choosing to ignore him. The moment he closes his eyes, he hears your voice call out to him.
"Robb?"
He hums in response, not wanting to seem too eager to reconcile.
"Don't ever raise your voice to me in that manner again."
Your tone is flat and unemotional, but the words are extremely sobering for Robb. He's rendered speechless, and no other words are spoken by either of you that night.
***
The bridge connecting the Great Keep to the Armoury offers the best view of the courtyard in Winterfell. That is where you go to forget your troubles, distracting yourself with the activities happening below you. But even watching the bustling of people fails you this afternoon. All you can think about is the night before.
Deep down you know that you provoked Robb into having that row, simply to avoid having a difficult conversation. You did not realise that was what you were doing until you had some time to yourself. And yet, you cannot seem to stop yourself from thinking about Robb's reaction.
He has never presented himself as a man who is quick to anger.
Neither did Joffrey. Not at first.
You shake those thoughts out of your head almost as soon as you have them. Robb is not like Joffrey, of that you are certain. He is...attentive, in the ways that matter.
Not a single stew or soup has been served to you since you told him about your unusual diet. He found out you enjoy lemon cakes, and before long there was a lemon tree growing in the glass garden. And not once has he complained about the fire you keep burning in your chambers before you sleep even though you know he despises the heat.
Joffrey was never that way, even before he revealed his true colours.
Perhaps this is all you will ever have, you don't have to love him to bear his children. A kind husband is more than most have. Shouldn't that be enough?
It is at this moment that Robb arrives at the top of the bridge, emerging from the armoury with Lord Umber in tow. He sees you standing there, right in the middle of the bridge, looking out onto the courtyard. There's a distant look in your eyes as you stare down, and Robb knows exactly what is weighing on your heart.
You don't notice him or Lord Umber until they are only a few steps away from you, at which point you quickly stand up straight.
"Your Grace," you curtsey to Robb as you always do around other people.
Lord Umber bows his head to you, "Your Grace."
"My Lady, this is Lord Umber. You might remember meeting him at our wedding feast?"
His face is unfamiliar, "My apologies, Lord Umber, I met quite a few people that night."
"No need to apologise, Your Grace," he laughs heartily, "The ale flowed freely that night, I'm not sure I remember our meeting either."
All three of you share a laugh at that, but before the conversation can continue any further, Robb turns to Lord Umber.
"Lord Umber, might you wait for me by my solar? I would like to speak to my wife in private."
"Of course, Your Grace." he bows his head to you both and walks past you towards the Great Keep.
Robb turns to you once you're alone, but he does not speak. He notices that the smile you put on for Lord Umber has faded, and the sadness in your eyes has returned. Your words from the night before play over in his mind, as they have been all morning. He knows that your upset at this present moment is because of him and only him, and for that, he's ashamed.
After a moment, he turns to face the courtyard, arms resting against the railing. You watch him, curious about his troubled expression, before joining him. Your forearm brushes against his as you stand next to him, waiting for him to speak.
"I'm sorry for raising my voice at you," he says, eyes downcast, "I did not mean to frighten you, and I will never do it again."
You didn't expect an apology, not for this. Many men have done worse to their wives without a second thought, but as you glance at Robb out of the corner of your eye, it is clear that he is remorseful. It warms your heart.
"Thank you," you whisper, "And I am sorry too."
"What for?"
"Picking a fight," you look up at him, "I should not have taken your decision so personally."
Robb nods briefly, accepting your apology – one he is surprised to receive because he knows that you still believe he is making the wrong choice.
"I'm trying to be like my father," he explains with a heavy sigh, "I want to fight this war in the most honourable way I can. And if I resort to spying and trickery to win, how would I be any different to my enemies? To Joffrey?"
At those words, you turn your head sharply to look at him. Your eyes soften when they meet his.
"You are a good man, Robb. Nothing like Joffrey."
The hint of a smile plays on his lips.
"I know you don't believe this, but I truly do value your advice," he says, "Even if I don't always agree, I would still like to know your opinion on those choices. Don't ever hesitate to tell me what you think."
You stand side by side, overlooking the courtyard. Down by the guest house, a little boy and girl are wrestling in the mud. Within seconds, a woman who you assume is their mother appears by their side and begins scolding them over their spoiled garments. She pulls them away from the scene by their ears, the two children giggling as she does so.
You and Robb both laugh as this unfolds, revelling in the innocence and mischief of childhood.
"They remind me of Arya and Bran," he says, a mournful look in his eyes.
The same urge to console him when he first opened up to you about his father overwhelms you once again. But instead of drawing back, this time, you place your hand over his, and he welcomes it without hesitation.
You lean against his shoulder and give his hand a comforting squeeze as he absent-mindedly strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. A simple touch but it’s enough to make you wish things were different.
"Do you think we will ever be happy?" you suddenly ask, "The way my mother and father are? The way yours were?"
Robb doesn't know how to respond to that. Mostly because in the midst of this seemingly endless war, he has been unable to envision life beyond it. But judging by your question, you may have started to, so it may be time for him to start as well.
He looks down at you with a thoughtful expression. "I don't know," he answers honestly, "But I hope so."
That makes you smile. You hold his gaze for a moment, only tearing your eyes away when the deep blue of his begin to grow too intense for your comfort.
You chuckle nervously and nod your head towards the Great Keep as you stand up straight, "Lord Umber must be waiting for you."
Robb blinks as if the fact had slipped his mind. "Of course," he says quickly with a bow and you regret that he chose to be so formal.
You watch him as he walks away, but he stops after a few paces and turns back to face you.
"I'm going into town later, I thought you might accompany me if you'd like," his tone is cheery, "I have some business to attend to, but you can visit the market while we're there?"
It is a kind offer, but you simply want to be alone with your thoughts for now.
"I'm afraid I'm not feeling up to it today," you say apologetically, "But I thank you for the invitation."
Robb is disappointed with your answer to say the least, but he does not let it show. Instead, he nods in understanding with a wistful smile and heads back inside, leaving you alone on the bridge.
You turn your attention back to the courtyard, resting your arms on the railing and letting out a deep sigh. That is when you notice the very familiar silhouette of a man.
His back is to you while he talks to another man just outside the armoury. Even though he's far away and you cannot see his face, he looks too familiar.
There is absolutely no chance.
You lean so far forward that only a few inches more and you'd fall over the railing. The man throws his head back and laughs. Instantly a pit forms in your stomach.
You know that laugh.
Your body begins to move faster than you can think. Within seconds you've hitched up your skirts and ran back into the Great Keep. Your heart is beating out of your chest with every step down the stairs. There are no thoughts in your head. All you hear is that laugh and the thumping of your heart.
In the courtyard there's people bustling about everywhere. You want to scream at them to stop moving so that you can see. To stop talking so that you can think. Your shoes and the bottom of your dress are caked in mud as you run from one end of the courtyard to the other, frantically searching for him.
The armoury. He was standing in front of the armory.
You take off running in that direction, stepping in puddles and all kinds of dirt and muck on the way. Once inside, you stop to catch your breath, panting heavily as you look around, hoping to catch sight of him. All you see are large, oily men carrying pounds of steel, shields, armour and all sorts.
You begin to wonder if you only imagined seeing him. Your mind playing some kind of sick trick on you. It wouldn't be surprising considering everything that has happened recently.
Just as you are about to let it go, a hand grabs your shoulder and turns you around.
The black hair. Those blue eyes.
You forget how to breathe for a moment. Completely frozen in shock. It's like the whole building goes silent and all you can hear is your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You're sure he calls your name, but you find yourself incapable of doing anything but stare at him in confusion and awe.
This is not real. This is not real.
You cannot allow yourself to believe that this is happening because the devastation if it's not real is not one you will recover from easily. With a shaky hand, you reach out to touch his face. Before you can even cup his cheek, he takes your hand and leans into it.
A stuttered breath escapes your lips as tears start to flow freely down your cheeks.
"Gendry."
*
Special thanks to these lovely people (and extra shoutout to everyone who called it 😉) Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 💞 (@’s in bold I can’t seem to tag :/):
In this blog, in part, it is to vent doubts that I have had, feelings and conflicts. But also for those who are also lost in the area of love and can feel identified.
After the honeymoon
In relationships there is a time of honeymoon can last a month, 6 months or a year. Everything is beautiful words, they spend more time with you, there are more calls, more appointments, everything is almost like a fairy tale. But after that honeymoon, disagreements, doubts, fights begin to arise.
I stress that it is not bad to fight, but you have to fight in a healthy way and seek to solve the problem.
After that honeymoon there is always one who returns to land first, and another who takes a little longer.
What usually happens is that sometimes we girls come to resent him a little more.
Thinking that love is over, wondering where those beautiful details were, the daily calls and everything.
But it is at this stage that we should trust the most. Because both you and your partner need their space. Remember that this person, just like you, has friends, family, dreams and things to do.
That doesn't mean it's more important to that person.
But sometimes we all like to have space to do our things, maybe in that period they don't go out as much as before but still find time to send you a message or something nice.
At that time sometimes you begin to notice defects or insecurities.
And that's fine, but you must trust that this period is for both of you to grow.
We have always grown up with the idea that a couple is a team and it is true, but there are dreams and things that we must do individually but telling your partner or giving them support.
So if someone is going through that phase of fear that it's all over because it's not like before, don't worry, things will take their course again. Trust your relationship and your partner, while you start doing things you didn't do before, go back to your hobby, find time for your friends or yourself.
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comfort fic but i’m starting to feel like every single thing i write is the same ?!?!?
ʚɞ
It was early hours of the morning. You were sleeping soundly in your shared bed occasionally stirring as you did quite frequently during the night. Alec was sat on a couch opposite, book in hand as he mindlessly flipped the pages. He was brought out of his daydream by harsher movement of the sheets, small whimpers being drawn out of your lips though you were still in the state of sleep.
Alec placed his book down on the sofa, speeding over to you worriedly. Your whimpers grew louder as he climbed onto the bed and as gentle as possible he shook you. He didn’t want to startle you further - it was clear you were having a nightmare again and the last thing you needed was to be violently brought back to reality.
“Cara mia, sh sh” He stroked the hair out of your face as he pulled you into him, shaking you again. You woke with a loud gasp. The tears had already started streaming down your face and he moved a hand up from your back to wipe them away softly.
“Alec I-i’m sorry” you sobbed as he shook his head lightly.
“Tsk now there’s no need to apologise, hm? It’s okay, i’m here now. I’ve got you, love” He pressed a light kiss to your nose as he stroked your back, willing you into a calmer state.
You laid in his arms peacefully, not fully comfortable enough to go back to sleep yet. Alec didn’t press the issue and simply held you. You pressed a kiss to his chin as he nuzzled his nose lovingly into your forehead, pressing another kiss there as he looked down at you. You smiled up at him.
“Thank you, my love.” He furrowed his brows at you; shaking his head. Kissing your lips gently before replying:
You had admired him all last year... Even knowing that nothing could come of it. But now it's sixth year, and you've undoubtedly caught his interest. While you should be thrilled about it, it's somehow occurred in entirely the wrong way: you've become the focus of his bullying. Will he ever change his ways, or will your sixth year be one you'll wish you could forget...?
• angst; fluff; language (derogatory use of the word "Mudblood")
"Aren't you the least bit excited, though? It'll be your second year here with us, you know." Hermione says, offering you a kind smile. You shrug, staring out the train window, watching the scenery race past in a blur. "I don't know, I suppose so, yeah. I'm just hoping that things will be different this year. Last year kind of sucked. Like, epically sucked." you answer.
It was the truth. Last year had royally sucked in the worst way imaginable. The Ministry of Magic had chosen to indirectly interfere with things at Hogwarts, by placing Dolores Umbridge in the position of a teacher there at the school. But the old bat had taken things one step further by appointing herself Head Inquisitor of Hogwarts, something each and every one of the students at the school would all agree was a terrible idea.
By the end of the school year, things were not even close to how they had been the previous four years, according to your friends. You had only just been transferred from Ilvermorny a little more than a year and a half ago, since your family had moved to the outskirts of London. You were the only American that Hogwarts had opened its doors to, and the only fifth year to be Sorted, apparently.
Ron's light snicker breaks you out of your thoughts, bringing you back to the present. "I never will get over the way you Americans talk." he says, grinning. Hermione elbows him in the side, shooting him a pointed look. "Be nice, Ronald. We're the only people she talks to, outside of school." she scolds him. Turning to face you again, she sighs.
"Things are supposed to be better this year, but I doubt it." she murmurs. You lean forward, unable to hide your small grin. "Not very optimistic, are we? Who are you and what have you done with our Hermione?" you tease her. A nervous half-smile flits across her face, before disappearing as quickly as it came. "I just... I feel like something dark is coming. Like everything is changing." she explains.
"That's because everything is changing. It's because Vold-" Harry starts, but you quickly cut him off with a wince, raising both your hands in protest. "Please, don't say his name! The last thing we need is loads of bad luck before the school year even starts. Trust me, I need all the good luck I can get if I hope to make it through this year unscathed." you tell him.
He raises a brow at you, trying not to smile. "Still fancying Malfoy, are we?" he lightly teases you. Ron scoffs, shaking his head at you. "Mental, this one. Malfoy's a lost cause, leave him alone, Y/N." he says. You shrug, glancing out the window again. Great, dark clouds have started to gather in the skies, and a few raindrops tap at the windowpane.
"I don't know, I... I just wonder if maybe the only reason he's such a bully to you guys is because of his family, his father, especially. Maybe he just needs someone to talk to." you muse aloud. Now it's Harry's turn to scoff. "No, he's a bully because he enjoys it. You watch some more this year, you'll see." he says. You sigh, staring out at the blurry trees and hills passing by.
"I just feel like there's more to him than he's letting on... I don't know. Maybe Ron's right, maybe I am... How did he put it? Mental? Who knows... Guess we'll find out, huh?" you say softly, glancing across the compartment at your friends. Hermione frowns at you, a concerned look in her eyes. "Just be careful, I suppose. He'll have a go at you any chance he gets." she warns you.
You nod, returning your attention to the scenery outside. Deep down, you know she's right. Draco was 100% the type to have a go at somebody if they let their walls down. But you just couldn't help trying to see past the mean outer façade. There had to be at least a small shred of decency within the boy, right? Maybe with any luck, you'd find it..
🐍DRACO'S POV 🐍
"You seem awfully grim this year." Pansy Parkinson's voice tugs me harshly out of my thoughts, and I look up sharply, meeting her gaze across the table. "Something on your mind, Draco?" she asks, her mouth turning down in a frown. I drop my gaze, focusing instead on the individual wood grains in the table. "Doesn't matter." I mutter quietly.
All of a sudden, the sound of laughter reaches my ears, and I look up again, determined to find the cause of my annoyance. My gaze lands on the table where the stupid Gryffindors sit, and I hear the laughter again. It's coming from that Muggleborn who transferred here last year, the little fifth year who hung around with Potter and his dumb friends.
As I watch, she reaches across the table as if to swat at Weaslebee, and to my own horror, one corner of my mouth quickly twitches up in the faintest half-smirk. Annoyed, I let the smirk drop from my face, replacing it with a sneering frown instead. The little Gryffindor girl sticks her tongue out at Weaslebee then, rolling her eyes at him.
I can't see what color they are from here, though there's a tiny part of me that wishes I could. Annoyed again, I heave a sigh, running one hand through my hair. "Penny for your thoughts?" Blaise suddenly asks me. I glance over at him to see him raising a brow at me, and my jaw tenses. "It's that stupid little Gryffindor and her stupid little friends. Gods, she's so annoying. Her laugh, those little child sized hands, everything about her... So fucking irritating." I grumble.
Pansy laughs, nudging me under the table with the toe of her shoe. "Sounds to me like you almost fancy her, Draco." she teases. I scowl at her, one corner of my mouth lifting in a sneer. "Don't be absurd!" I hiss. She shrugs, exchanging a look with Blaise, who nods. "Lie to yourself all you want, but admit it: you can't get her out of your head. Not since you first saw her last year." she tells me.
Why the hell does she have to be right all the damn time?? It's true; that annoying little Muggleborn has occupied my thoughts since fifth year, when I first saw her with Potter. Maybe she's his new girlfriend now, maybe he finally got tired of that Weasley girl from second year. Gritting my teeth, I glare across the table at Pansy. "She's infuriating. I hate it, I hate her!" I spit the words out.
Pansy glances over her shoulder at the Gryffindor girl, watching her for a few seconds, before turning to face me again. "You just hate that she's friends with Potter, and you aren't." she teases me. My breath comes out in a forced exhale, almost a hiss. "Yeah? Fuck you, Parkinson!" I growl, getting up from the table. As I turn to leave, I cast one last glance at the Gryffindor table.
Almost like she can feel me watching her, the girl looks up then, her eyes meeting mine. Slowly, she offers me a tentative smile, lifting her hand in a brief wave. My jaw tenses again, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. I shoot her the darkest of glares, my mouth turning down in a sneer of disgust. Her eyes widen and her face goes pale, before she quickly drops her gaze, staring down at the table again.
She almost looks afraid of me... Good for her. Maybe she'll leave me alone. Shaking my head, I abruptly turn and storm out of the Great Hall, my mood ruined for the night. Stupid little Mudblood, who the hell does she think she is, thinking that she can associate with me like that, get a reaction out of me like that?! I'll show her; by the time I'm finished with her, she'll wish she'd never even heard of me...
🦁READER'S POV 🦁
You stare down at the bedcovers, your fingers idly playing with a loose thread. "Did you see his face, Hermione? I've never seen him look at anyone else like that, not even Harry." you mumble. The brunette lets out a yawn, before offering you a sympathetic half-smile. "I did tell you to be careful with him. He's mean by nature. We all tried to warn you." she says.
You nod, heaving a sigh. "Just... Remind me again why I even try?" you ask weakly. Hermione laughs, unable to keep from grinning as she rolls her eyes at you. "Because you, Y/N, are a hopeless romantic and way too nice." she teases you. You fight back the urge to smile, but fail miserably, the corners of your mouth lifting in a grin of your own.
"I know, I know. You'd think last year would've beaten that out of me, but here we are. I don't know, I just feel like maybe if I keep trying, I'll finally break him. And he'll finally start being nice." you tell her. She laughs again, shaking her head at you. "There's not a spell in the world, not a single bit of magic, that would get Draco to be nice to anyone, not even for a day! Though it is a nice thought." she answers.
You grin, your fingers playing with the loose thread again as you shrug. "Maybe I should invent one, then. A spell, I mean. Who knows, maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn't. Either way, I'm determined to at least try and play nice with Draco this year, get him to talk to me." you muse aloud. Hermione gives you a wary look, one eyebrow raising.
"Valiant efforts, Y/N, but I just hope you know what you're in for. You might not like what he has to say." she warns you. With another yawn, she reaches over to turn out the bedside lamp. "Anyhow, goodnight, Y/N. See you tomorrow." she adds, her voice trailing off sleepily. "See you tomorrow." you whisper, letting go of the thread to reach over and turn out your own bedside lamp.
As you lie there in the darkness, your thoughts drift back to the Great Hall, to the way Draco looked at you tonight. You had been laughing with your friends when out of the corner of your eye, you had seen the blonde boy abruptly get up from his table. His eyes had met yours, and you had smiled at him, even went so far as to wave at him... And then he had glared daggers at you.
What if Hermione was right, what if there really was no point in trying with him?? What if all of your efforts were useless, wasted? You don't think you could bear it if he looked at you like that again. There was so much hate, so much vitriol, in those eyes of his... It brought to mind the Muggle expression "if looks could kill".
Merlin, with the look Draco had given you tonight, you would have been keeled over in an instant! But tomorrow was a new day, and you were determined not to give up on Draco, not yet. There must be some way to get through to him, to get him to play nice with you.
After all, you were a Gryffindor, for Fawkes' sake! What wasn't there to like?? Tomorrow... You would try again tomorrow. You would keep trying, until things worked out and you were on good terms with the Slytherin boy. This was sixth year, right? Anything could happen... Anything at all.
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A/N: Aaand welcome to my first ever series involving Draco Malfoy! Can you tell that I'm nervous about this? 😂 Eh, I don't know, I think I'm doing pretty good, so far. After all, we do love a mean Draco, don't we? I thought so. Hopefully you guys enjoyed this one, but don't worry! The fun's not over yet. Part Two will be coming soon, I solemnly swear it. Thanksss! 🐍💚
It's late at night and you can't sleep, so you sneak over to Draco's private dorm room, where he's still up studying. The two of you end up talking, and you end up spending the night in his bed. Little do you know, he might be falling for you just as hard as you are for him...
You sigh, rolling over in bed for the fifth time. It must be nearly 10 o'clock by now, and yet you still find yourself unable to sleep. Groaning into your pillow, you scrunch your eyes shut, trying desperately to fall asleep, doze off, anything. No such luck; with another groan, you haul yourself up into a sitting position, running one hand through your hair. Why was this so bloody difficult??
Getting up out of bed, you quietly sneak past the other students, all of them fast asleep in their beds. Sure, they could fall asleep when they wanted to... So why couldn't you? You silently close the door behind you, turning to head for the stairs, when something catches your eye. The flicker of candlelight, peeking through the narrow space of one slightly-open bedroom door...
That was Draco Malfoy's private room...! Merlin, what was that boy still doing up at this hour?? With silent footsteps, you slowly walk up to the door, raising your hand as if to knock. But you hesitate; what if he didn't want your company? What if he told you to go away, or even worse... What if he ignored you?
While you're standing there waging a silent war with your own thoughts, you don't notice the door opening further, until it's too late. You look up to see the Prince of Slytherin himself standing there, blonde hair in a slight disarray, blue-grey eyes fixed on you with one eyebrow raised. "Y/L/N. What do you want?" he asks, his voice low. There almost seems to be a hint of disgust in his tone, but you're not entirely sure.
You shrug, staring down at the floor. "I... I couldn't sleep. Can I come in?" you mumble. "Please?" you add, as an afterthought. The boy sighs, and your heart sinks. What if he says no? But to your complete shock, he steps aside, beckoning for you to enter his room. You look up at him in surprise, taking in the expression on his face. He doesn't look pleased... But then again, when does he ever...?
With a grateful nod at him, you quickly enter his room, trying not to be nervous as you hear the click of his bedroom door closing behind the two of you. So this is Draco Malfoy's room, then... A four-poster bed made from dark ebony wood sits in the corner of the room, the green silk sheets on it peeking out from underneath the myriad of papers and books scattered atop the surface.
In the small fireplace on the far wall, bright orange and blue flames flicker away, crackling softly. Ah, so it wasn't candlelight you'd seen earlier, after all... But rather the light from his fireplace. Atop the small ebony chest of drawers sits Draco's wand, his House scarf lying next to it. Adjacent to the chest of drawers sits a fair-sized wardrobe, made of the same ebony wood as the other furniture.
Draco's voice sounds behind you, startling you out of your thoughts as he goes to sit on the bed. "You going to just stand there, or what? Sit down, you're making me nervous." he grumbles. You don't know quite where you're allowed to sit, so without thinking about it, you plunk yourself down on the floor, trying hard to avoid Draco's gaze.
He scoffs, and when you glance up at him, he shakes his head at you. "Not what I meant, Y/L/N. Here, you can sit on the bed, you know. You don't have to occupy the floor." he says, rolling his eyes at you. He moves a few of the papers and books out of the way, before beckoning you over. You get up off the floor, moving to sit down in the spot he's cleared for you.
The next few minutes are spent in a soft silence, the only sound that of the crackling flames in the fireplace and the quiet scratching of Draco's quill on the parchment as he writes. It's almost a comfortable sort of silence, until Draco breaks it. "Couldn't sleep, huh? Thought you'd be off already, dreaming about Potter." he says, sarcasm laced throughout his tone.
You scoff, staring out at the fireplace, watching the flames dance among each other. "Why would you think that?" you mutter. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Draco shrug. "You seemed awful animated when you two were talking earlier." he answers, offering no further explanation. You frown, your fingers digging into your thighs as you continue to stare at the flames.
"Trust me, our exchange wasn't friendly. I was telling him off. He called you an ass, and I told him you weren't that bad. So he called me mental." you say quietly. The scratching of Draco's quill on the parchment suddenly ceases for a moment, and when you glance over at the boy, he's watching you closely, his blue-grey eyes wide, one eyebrow raised.
"You were defending me." he says flatly, almost like he's not quite sure how to process this. You nod, staring down at the papers scattered across the bed, unable to hold Draco's gaze any longer. "And he called you mental for it? Wow. I should think if anyone was an ass, it would be Potter." he murmurs. "Y/N... I'm sorry." he adds, his voice quiet, almost a whisper.
Your eyes shoot up to meet his then, widening in surprise. This is the first time you know of that he's actually called you by your first name, instead of your last. Draco offers you a tiny ghost of a smile, before returning his attention back to the parchment in front of him. "Why'd you do it? Defend me, I mean." he asks, not looking up from his writing.
Does he really not know how you feel about him?? Surely, he must know by now... Right? "Are you thick? Do you really not see it?" you ask. He looks up sharply from his papers, his blue-grey eyes flashing in defiance at your words. "See what?" he asks, his jaw tensing. You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you stare back at him.
"The way I feel about you, you numpty. I like you." you whisper. His eyes widen momentarily, the quill dropping from his fingers to land atop one of the books. "Why?" he asks quietly. That one word hangs there in the air between the two of you, seeming so heavy all of a sudden. "Because you're not as bad as people say you are. I can see it, I can feel it." you answer, after a few moments' silence.
Draco swallows hard, his eyes drifting to stare at the flames in the fireplace. "And what exactly is it that you see?" he asks, not meeting your gaze. Your fingers play with a loose thread sticking up from the bedspread, as you deliberate on how best to answer Draco's question. "I see... Someone that deserves so much better. Someone who maybe made all the wrong choices, and now they're starting to regret it." you begin.
Ever so slightly, Draco turns his head to look at you once, before his gaze drops to stare at his hands... Hands that have probably been dirtied with all the dark deeds he's done over the years. "I see... Someone who didn't get enough love as a child. Not real love, anyway. Love that isn't just for the sake of keeping up appearances. I see... Someone who, deep down, is just as terrified as I am. Terrified of failing, of not being enough." you whisper.
"But most importantly, I see a boy who would do anything, maybe even go to hell and back, to protect the people he loves. And that's pretty damn admirable." you finish, swallowing hard past the sudden tears building up in your throat. Draco turns to face you then, hesitantly reaching across the bed to take one of your hands in his, interlocking his fingers with yours.
The look in his eyes is one of both pain and relief. Pain, because of the truth and conviction in your words... And relief, because maybe somebody has finally bothered to try and actually understand him. His lower lip wobbles for a second, almost like he's going to break down and cry, before he looks down at the papers scattered all over his bed, not really seeing them.
"None of them understand. None of them ever will. I just... I just want to be more than this, what I am now." he whispers, his voice unsteady. You give his hand a firm, reassuring squeeze, leaning forward a little. "Hey. Not one damn person is perfect, but... You're awfully close, Draco. There's good in you, yet. I'm not giving up on you just because everyone else has." you tell him, your gaze earnest.
He swallows hard, his fingers trembling briefly against yours, before he reaches for his quill with his free hand. "All this time, then? Why the bloody hell did you never tell me?" he whispers. Tears well up in your eyes as you stare back at him. "I didn't know I had the nerve to say it, until now." you answer. He laughs, though the sound is a tad rueful.
"You could've told me." he murmurs. Now it's your turn to laugh, as you fight to keep the tears at bay. "You wouldn't have wanted me." you whisper. His gaze softens, the quill slipping from his fingers once more as he reaches out to gently caress the side of your face. "You don't know that." he murmurs, a sad little smile pulling up one corner of his mouth. The tears in your eyes slip out then, unbidden.
"Hey... Come on, now, angel. No crying in my bed. Come here." he murmurs, letting go of your hand and patting the spot beside him. You get up and move to sit next to him, being careful not to disturb any of his books or papers. With the gentlest of movements, he takes your face in his hands, brushing your tears away with his thumbs.
"So all this time, then? Truly?" he asks, and you nod. "Always." you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder. He sighs, putting an arm around you and holding your hand again, before picking his quill up once more with his free hand, going back to his studies.
"Oh, angel, have you any idea how this feels for me? Little Y/N... Smartest girl in our Potions class. Always so quiet, always giving help to others, even when they don't deserve it... And she likes me. The boy who hated everybody." Draco says quietly.
"The boy who had no choice." you amend in a whisper, watching him write. He laughs that familiar laugh again, his quill ceasing its scratching on the parchment for a moment. "I do, though. Have a choice, I mean. But you were right, earlier. I've made all the wrong ones." he says. You shake your head at him, giving his hand a light squeeze. "Not this one. This one feels right." you whisper.
Draco is quiet for a moment, as he goes back to writing. Finally, he breaks the silence, and his voice is so quiet, you almost have to strain to hear him. "Yes, yes it does." he agrees, turning his head to place a soft kiss on the side of your forehead. The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes, and you can hear the faint sound of rain beginning to tap along the windowpanes, outside.
"By the way... Remind me to kick Potter's ass the next time I see him. He doesn't get to treat my angel the way he did..." Draco suddenly murmurs, his voice firm. His words ignite a small spark inside of you, gradually growing into a flame as bright as the ones burning away in the fireplace. His angel... He really does care about you too, then...
"Can I spend the night here, with you? If that's alright?" you ask him quietly. He nods, scoffing lightly. "I'd be rather insulted if you didn't, Y/N." he retorts. "Please... Stay as long as you'd like, angel." he adds in a softer tone, almost as an afterthought. You nod, letting out a yawn, hoping it'll go unnoticed by the boy. No such luck, though...
Draco laughs, squeezing your hand softly in his. "Go to sleep, Y/N. I'll be here when you wake up. I promise." he says lightly. You nod again, letting your eyes fall closed, the sounds of the crackling flames and softly scratching quill on the parchment lulling you into a peaceful slumber.
The face behind your closed eyelids is that of a beautiful blonde boy, his ocean eyes watching you as he smirks at you, making that spark in your very soul burn even brighter than before. How anyone else could make you feel like this... It would be impossible. Nobody else compared to Draco...
🐍DRACO'S POV 🐍
Y/N... Her quiet snores keep me in a tranquil frame of mind as I finish the last of my assignments, collecting the papers together before setting them aside on the bedside table. Gently shifting Y/N down onto the pillows, I get up from the bed and gather up my books, dumping them all in my school bag. Their muted clatter has me quickly glancing over my shoulder, afraid I've awoken Y/N, but she's still fast asleep on my bed.
As I watch her, she starts to shiver involuntarily in her sleep, her shoulders trembling a little and her jaw tensing. "Tsk. Poor angel, give me a moment. There we go." I whisper, shifting Y/N's legs out of the way and pulling the bed covers over her, tucking the heavy blankets up underneath her chin as I climb in beside her.
Almost immediately, her entire body relaxes, and a faint smile settles on her face. Looping an arm over her and pulling her close to me, I press a soft kiss to the back of her neck, breathing in her comforting scent. Huh... Green apples... It's like she knows. This thought makes me smile as I settle in beside her, holding her close.
She had been right, earlier tonight. I might have made all the wrong choices these past few years, but... Letting Y/N step foot into my room tonight. That had been the one good choice I'd made. I suppose maybe she wasn't as bad as the rest of the lot, then. Fucking perfect Saint Potter...! Calling my angel mental for loving me.
He would think I've gone absolutely mad then, because... I loved Y/N, too. I loved her more than I was willing to admit to myself, more than she herself probably knew. She saw only the best in me, she always had. It was just a damn shame it had taken me so long to see it, too. Maybe things would change for the better, after tonight. Maybe little Y/N would be the one light for me in all the darkness. She saw what I had never been able to see in myself... She always would.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: So, there's this. 😳 Not me sitting here listening to Nilu's song "Are You With Me" on repeat while writing this. I really feel like Draco would be completely caught off guard by Reader confessing their love for him. 👌🏻 I hope you guys enjoyed this one as much I enjoyed writing it. Thanksssss... 💝
okay, okay, okay, so...I hate Draeden. There, I said it. I hate it. A lot. I don't trust Braeden and I just want a season where Derek isn't having strange women thrown at him when we don't know (or have speculated) if they're evil or not and goddammit he needs a break and I'm sorry I'm ranting in your ask but FUCK I hate Draeden. (and Stalia*coughs*)
Nah, it’s cool! I’m glad someone agrees with me!
Rather, I should apologize to you. I’m about to rant really hard…This rant isn’t particularly aimed at you, which you’ll see very quickly.For you, I’m telling you why I agree.
For draeden fans, I’m telling them why I don’t.
Draeden, to me, is just as shady as all the rest of sexual female relationships have been. His sexual relations seem to follow a pattern:1. Show up rather suddenly in a season.2. Warm up to him/have him warm up to them3. Start “doin the do”
And the women go like so:
Kate: 1. Shows up to a teenage Derek before the season starts, so this one kinda doesn’t fit, but it must’ve been sudden to Derek, who most likely was still recovering from Paige’s death, and thus was in a weak state of mind2. Due to his weakened state of mind, he was open to a distracting relationship, thus the two warmed up to each other, rather he warmed up to her3. Kate is disgusting…she took advantage of a fucking teenager.Result: NEARLY ENTIRE FAMILIAL DEATH
Jennifer: 1. Shows up as an English teacher that worked late one night an attack extended to the school2. She somehow gets him to warm up to her so quickly that he decides she’s trustworthy enough to tell about the pack and werewolves, perhaps this is because she reacts to situations just like Stiles did (ie. he shows up bloodied/they look at him shocked from their cars before helping; he growls or threatens them/they respond by saying they aren’t scared) and he trusts Stiles at this point, so he thinks she’ll be the same—just as a note, I read an article once that said there was an interview with Haley Webb (her actress) in which she said Jennifer was doing some wicked mojo on Derek that the mojo should’ve been evident (it wasn’t, Jeff or the writers didn’t bother explaining that plot point in the show—this has been confirmed to be true), therefore, she was forcing him into a relationship with her 3. She has sex with a mortally-wounded man…eeeeeh why would you do that…also, the mojo thing is true, so it goes from mortally-wounded sex to mortally-wounded rape…wow that’s so much worse…wait a second, it’s rape either way…a person going in and out of consciousness and in a state of confusion cannot consent to sex…either way, Derek was raped by Jennifer.Result: TURNS OUT SHE’S A MURDEROUS BITCH KILLING FOR POWER
Braeden: 1. Shows up suddenly in Season 3 as a protector to Issac…but since she showed up earlier rather than first appearing in Season 4, this doesn’t qualify2. She’s pretty emotionally constipated just like he is…that’s it, I think 3. Well, she was sick but now she’s better and he apparently needs to learn how to defend his human ass by her, so they better get started on that, especially with the gu—*sex noises*—nnnnnhow did this become a sex sequence…why…yeah, just choose sex over self-preservation, ya dumb butts…Result: N/A
By my rules, she’s not the worst, but the relationship’s still in the running.
Here’s another few points:
1. Why is he learning humanity from a mercenary? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean to insult all mercenaries, just her. Due to her job, she has to hide her emotions and, as I said earlier, she’s just as emotionally constipated as he is.
She says that “When you’re a human going against a supernatural, you have to bend the rules. I’m going to teach you how to bend,” but he could very easily learn that from humans he knew before her!
Why not learn humanity from the Sheriff, who is human yet faces very real danger everyday, has raised a (technically) well-functioning boy, and has had to dig into feelings some other families don’t have to in order to come back up from his wife’s death—aka he knows all about human emotion and action (he’s a damn policeman for crying out loud). This relationship would be mutually beneficial: John (cause that’s his fucking name since Jeff didn’t name the man) learns some supernatural stuff while Derek learns about being human from him.
Or maybe even from Chris Argent, though perhaps a little less likely. The man, though he has some emotional constipation, is still very human and knows human mannerisms. He already knows about the supernatural world, thus Derek would be in a commensalistic situation: he learns how to be human, and perhaps gets tips on how to avoid being easy hunt meat. The tip-learning scenes could be really cool, you know?
Lastly, Derek could learn humanity from, oh, I don’t know, the only pack human he knows right now? While Stiles is in no way an expert in the supernatural, he’s quickly growing into one, which is where Derek could help him out. Stiles has next to no emotional constipation—rather his problem is that he lets his feelings out a little too much (except when he was hiding things from his dad, but he doesn’t need to do that anymore, so that puts him in an even better position). He understand wolf-life to a point (seen in how he attempts to comfort Derek upon Boyd’s death, knowing he needed someone to get him out of his daze), so he knows how to bring the wolf perspective into human perspective. Not to mention, the two already have a solid respect for each other, since they’ve saved each other’s asses several times.
Even so, despite all of these prime options, they’re settling with a mercenary woman that the audience barely knows—that Derek doesn’t quite know himself—to teach him how to shoot and all about how humans feel…
2. Why trust her? She’s a mercenary. Once again, I don’t intend to insult mercenaries—just hear me out. Mercenaries work for money, which is completely understandable. Ms. Morrell is a “neutral-good”, Deucalion is a “chaotic-evil” at the point he hired her even though he seems to be doing good, Araya set her on a good target but the lady herself is definitely a “chaotic-evil”, and Derek/Peter duo, well it’s the Hale family. Why does she work for such a wide array of people? She wants or needs the money, because, as she said in the Deucalion-hire situation, “a girl’s gotta eat”. Also, I will mention that Deucalion scratched her for saving Issac, yet in that same season she is employed by the one who wounded her because of this moral: “a girl’s gotta eat”. With that, it can be deduced that she will work for anyone and do nearly anything for a person who hires her if the price-tag is right. Well, let’s just say that some bad mofo like, I don’t know, the Benefactor, hires her to kill someone that Derek likes or relates to. What would happen?
Well, “a girl’s gotta eat”.
3. Why is Derek rushing into sex anyway? He has trust issues.
Ah, that’s because Jeff Davis and the writers don’t know how to handle PTSD, which Derek definitely should have. In fact, he’d probably be sent to a mental hospital or a major psychiatrist with how much PTSD could be going through his brain.
Potential triggers of PTSD in Derek Hale’s life:
As caused by Kate:1. Death of most of family -danger zone-2. Causing feelings of guilt over dead family -danger zone-3. Turned into teenager by her -perhaps major-4. She just won’t die -quite major-
As caused by Alpha Pack:1. Death of Erica -extremely major-2. Constant haunting and tormenting -quite major-3. Death of Boyd (and he was forced to do it) -danger zone-
As caused by Argents:1. Well, the arson was already mentioned, so I won’t put it here2. Constantly hunted during his youth -quite major-3. Tortured on several occasions -quite major-
As caused by Peter:1. Dead sister -danger zone-2. One of last family, but can’t be trusted -extremely major-
As caused by Jennifer:1. He was directed into sex while injured and under a spell; that is certified RAPE no matter what anyone says -danger zone-3. Grew trust in her only to be betrayed -extremely major-
I don’t think I even listed them all, but this is what I could remember right now.
Anyway, both of his previous sexual relationships have a -danger zone- marker, meaning that those situations could have just plain shut him down. Since he most likely knows that having sudden relationships with women that suddenly show up is a bad idea, it doesn’t make sense that he would continuously follow the same pattern, unless, you know, it’s because of lazy writing or something.
4. Also, I mentioned trust issues several times in earlier points. This is because it took a long time for him to trust Scott or Stiles, yet Braeden shows up and she’s the most trustworthy person in Beacon Hills all of a sudden.
I call BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUULLSHIET.
PTSD-caused trust issues do NOT fade away with “a lil bump-n’-grind”. She should’ve earned the right of his trust the same way Scott and Stiles did: by spending a lot of time with him and showing him who they were on the inside.
She pops up and suddenly he cares enough about her to sit at her bedside in a hospital.
no…
NO, NO, NO.
No.
It doesn’t work that way. Trust issues don’t work that way.
4. Braeden could’ve been a much better character without them reducing her to a love interest. Like, she was doing well all on her own. We were interested in her. We liked how good she was at shooting. We loved her skills. Now, after maybe 3-4 conversations, she officially banging Derek and…ugh. She coulda been a “strong black woman who need no man”, but she’s not now. I’m not saying that she doesn’t deserve love or anything, but because so many female leads only get more airtime because of relationships with male leads, she’s just kinda…part of the trope now.
It’s not the kind of forward movement Jeff promised us.
5. About that last point, I fully understand how adult relationships work. I know that one-night stands happen between random people. That’s all good. Good for them. Random people banging, yay.
But this isn’t a random person. This is Derek Hale, aka Teen Wolf’s punching bag. He doesn’t (rather, he shouldn’t *glares angrily at writers*) trust people easily, and for good reason. The women who do the one-night thing with him have murdered his family and raped him. He (should) have trauma from that. He (Should) have some form of PTSD. He (SHOULD) be wary of her. He (fucking SHOULD) avoid new relationships and watch them from afar with judging eyes and threatening growls like he usually does (ie. Scott, Stiles).
As such, this “adult relationship” argument I sometimes see thrown around still doesn’t make any damn sense. It just doesn’t suit him.
That’s all for my points.
I’m not being “salty”, as is the common term for those who disagree with draeden now under the “anti-draeden” tag where it
shouldn’t be
because the right tag for people who like the ship is the “draeden” tag, even if they are complaining about anti-draeden people.
I’m not being difficult.
I’m not being racist, sexist, or any other term that can be misused and thrown at me.
I’m being sensible.
I’m recognizing human emotion based on my understanding.
I’m acknowledging that the human psyche is a fragile thing.
I know that Derek’s should already be damaged.
I predict this relationship won’t end well…
Just like the others haven’t.
…
Oh, I guess I’ll post a little anti-Stalia thing, too, since you coughed it.
It’ll be shorter, I promise.
I’m supposed to believe that Malia, who has been stuck as a coyote for eight years is perfectly fine for sex but is too mentally challenged for math.
No.
From my understanding of dissociative situations, she is still eight in her mind. She didn’t grow up in human terms brain-wise because she was a coyote. Though her body is bigger and older, to me she’s still eight because upon turning and remaining turn’t, she was running on an eight-year-old mind. She essentially paused her human-brain production by switching it with the coyote in her time of need. Rather, because she turned when she was eight, she remained running on eight-year-old knowledge, adding animal knowledge as she grew. Therefore, my headcanon for her is that of a high-functioning-eight-year-old rather than a sixteen-year-old.
Ah, just as a fun-fact: if the Teen Wolf writers actually followed the timeline they had established earlier in the series, Malia would’ve been five when she turned. That would mean that she is thirteen timeline-canonical. This is the one thing I’m glad they ignored, but the fact they established a faulty timeline just shows their lazy writing.
With that, it’s easy to see why I don’t appreciate that Stiles, a smart young man of seventeen—or is it eighteen now? I forgot—canonically consented(?) to romantic relations with her—not that she’s in her right mind either. He has the innate need to know everything. He’d try to find out what’s up with her mind. The instant he finds out would be the instant he tries to find a way to catch her brain up so she can function better, cause that’s the way Stiles is. He finds problems and tries his best to fix it. He wouldn’t just ignore the fact she’s eight in the brain. He wouldn’t just stare at her body and think that she’s okay for that kind of relationship. He just…wouldn’t.
The key to my other point is the question mark by “consented”. When Stiles and Malia get to mackin’ on each other’s faces, Stiles is struggling with drugs in his system as well as constantly fighting off the Nogitsune. That is not prime time for consenting to romantic things. Also, I don’t care how endearing Malia punching Stiles is to some people. It looks like relationship abuse. She punches him, she sneaks into his house and spoons him, and she leaves him with bruises, and when Stiles tells Scott about it, he’s not sounding happy or looking pleased. He’s put-off and dissatisfied. I’m supposed to think that’s love? That’s the “power couple” I’m being presented with? Bullshit. That’s abuse. Grade A+, certified abuse. I know it’s being played off as her “showing affection”, but that’s not going to fly for me. Also, in this last episode, we were presented with the idea that Stiles can no longer sleep alone because he’s used to Malia being there, spooning behind him… This…annoys me. I don’t want to call it Stockholm Syndrome, because I feel that would be too over the top, but…it’s the closest thing I can think of. I’m not calling it that, but it feels like it’s something dangerously close. Getting used to something that isn’t liked doesn’t make it stop being bad. For example, a person gets a new boss and this boss yells at them for no reason. This person works the job for a while and eventually gets used to the boss yelling at them to the point they think something drastic or very wrong happened if the yelling isn’t present. Just because the person got used to the yelling, it doesn’t suddenly make the yelling alright. It’s not Stockholm, but it’s close.
I’d also like to point out that Dylan previously stated that Stiles was the kind of guy who just wouldn’t get the girl, and canonically, I expected it to stay that way, even if I do read fanfiction in which he’s in a relationship. Canon and Fanon are different. I expected it to stay as promised. Perhaps I shouldn’t really complain, but it just kinda bothers me. Another Davis promise down the drain, I guess.
I’m done now.
Ah, sorry for the rant. I just thought I’d get it out since you mentioned it.
I really like it when you send me asks! I usually don’t say anything unless someone else starts the topic on it, so I’m glad you’re giving me that option to open up!
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It's late at night and you can't sleep, so you sneak over to Draco's private dorm room, where he's still up studying. The two of you end up talking, and you end up spending the night in his bed. Little do you know, he might be falling for you just as hard as you are for him...
You sigh, rolling over in bed for the fifth time. It must be nearly 10 o'clock by now, and yet you still find yourself unable to sleep. Groaning into your pillow, you scrunch your eyes shut, trying desperately to fall asleep, doze off, anything. No such luck; with another groan, you haul yourself up into a sitting position, running one hand through your hair. Why was this so bloody difficult??
Getting up out of bed, you quietly sneak past the other students, all of them fast asleep in their beds. Sure, they could fall asleep when they wanted to... So why couldn't you? You silently close the door behind you, turning to head for the stairs, when something catches your eye. The flicker of candlelight, peeking through the narrow space of one slightly-open bedroom door...
That was Draco Malfoy's private room...! Merlin, what was that boy still doing up at this hour?? With silent footsteps, you slowly walk up to the door, raising your hand as if to knock. But you hesitate; what if he didn't want your company? What if he told you to go away, or even worse... What if he ignored you?
While you're standing there waging a silent war with your own thoughts, you don't notice the door opening further, until it's too late. You look up to see the Prince of Slytherin himself standing there, blonde hair in a slight disarray, blue-grey eyes fixed on you with one eyebrow raised. "Y/L/N. What do you want?" he asks, his voice low. There almost seems to be a hint of disgust in his tone, but you're not entirely sure.
You shrug, staring down at the floor. "I... I couldn't sleep. Can I come in?" you mumble. "Please?" you add, as an afterthought. The boy sighs, and your heart sinks. What if he says no? But to your complete shock, he steps aside, beckoning for you to enter his room. You look up at him in surprise, taking in the expression on his face. He doesn't look pleased... But then again, when does he ever...?
With a grateful nod at him, you quickly enter his room, trying not to be nervous as you hear the click of his bedroom door closing behind the two of you. So this is Draco Malfoy's room, then... A four-poster bed made from dark ebony wood sits in the corner of the room, the green silk sheets on it peeking out from underneath the myriad of papers and books scattered atop the surface.
In the small fireplace on the far wall, bright orange and blue flames flicker away, crackling softly. Ah, so it wasn't candlelight you'd seen earlier, after all... But rather the light from his fireplace. Atop the small ebony chest of drawers sits Draco's wand, his House scarf lying next to it. Adjacent to the chest of drawers sits a fair-sized wardrobe, made of the same ebony wood as the other furniture.
Draco's voice sounds behind you, startling you out of your thoughts as he goes to sit on the bed. "You going to just stand there, or what? Sit down, you're making me nervous." he grumbles. You don't know quite where you're allowed to sit, so without thinking about it, you plunk yourself down on the floor, trying hard to avoid Draco's gaze.
He scoffs, and when you glance up at him, he shakes his head at you. "Not what I meant, Y/L/N. Here, you can sit on the bed, you know. You don't have to occupy the floor." he says, rolling his eyes at you. He moves a few of the papers and books out of the way, before beckoning you over. You get up off the floor, moving to sit down in the spot he's cleared for you.
The next few minutes are spent in a soft silence, the only sound that of the crackling flames in the fireplace and the quiet scratching of Draco's quill on the parchment as he writes. It's almost a comfortable sort of silence, until Draco breaks it. "Couldn't sleep, huh? Thought you'd be off already, dreaming about Potter." he says, sarcasm laced throughout his tone.
You scoff, staring out at the fireplace, watching the flames dance among each other. "Why would you think that?" you mutter. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Draco shrug. "You seemed awful animated when you two were talking earlier." he answers, offering no further explanation. You frown, your fingers digging into your thighs as you continue to stare at the flames.
"Trust me, our exchange wasn't friendly. I was telling him off. He called you an ass, and I told him you weren't that bad. So he called me mental." you say quietly. The scratching of Draco's quill on the parchment suddenly ceases for a moment, and when you glance over at the boy, he's watching you closely, his blue-grey eyes wide, one eyebrow raised.
"You were defending me." he says flatly, almost like he's not quite sure how to process this. You nod, staring down at the papers scattered across the bed, unable to hold Draco's gaze any longer. "And he called you mental for it? Wow. I should think if anyone was an ass, it would be Potter." he murmurs. "Y/N... I'm sorry." he adds, his voice quiet, almost a whisper.
Your eyes shoot up to meet his then, widening in surprise. This is the first time you know of that he's actually called you by your first name, instead of your last. Draco offers you a tiny ghost of a smile, before returning his attention back to the parchment in front of him. "Why'd you do it? Defend me, I mean." he asks, not looking up from his writing.
Does he really not know how you feel about him?? Surely, he must know by now... Right? "Are you thick? Do you really not see it?" you ask. He looks up sharply from his papers, his blue-grey eyes flashing in defiance at your words. "See what?" he asks, his jaw tensing. You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you stare back at him.
"The way I feel about you, you numpty. I like you." you whisper. His eyes widen momentarily, the quill dropping from his fingers to land atop one of the books. "Why?" he asks quietly. That one word hangs there in the air between the two of you, seeming so heavy all of a sudden. "Because you're not as bad as people say you are. I can see it, I can feel it." you answer, after a few moments' silence.
Draco swallows hard, his eyes drifting to stare at the flames in the fireplace. "And what exactly is it that you see?" he asks, not meeting your gaze. Your fingers play with a loose thread sticking up from the bedspread, as you deliberate on how best to answer Draco's question. "I see... Someone that deserves so much better. Someone who maybe made all the wrong choices, and now they're starting to regret it." you begin.
Ever so slightly, Draco turns his head to look at you once, before his gaze drops to stare at his hands... Hands that have probably been dirtied with all the dark deeds he's done over the years. "I see... Someone who didn't get enough love as a child. Not real love, anyway. Love that isn't just for the sake of keeping up appearances. I see... Someone who, deep down, is just as terrified as I am. Terrified of failing, of not being enough." you whisper.
"But most importantly, I see a boy who would do anything, maybe even go to hell and back, to protect the people he loves. And that's pretty damn admirable." you finish, swallowing hard past the sudden tears building up in your throat. Draco turns to face you then, hesitantly reaching across the bed to take one of your hands in his, interlocking his fingers with yours.
The look in his eyes is one of both pain and relief. Pain, because of the truth and conviction in your words... And relief, because maybe somebody has finally bothered to try and actually understand him. His lower lip wobbles for a second, almost like he's going to break down and cry, before he looks down at the papers scattered all over his bed, not really seeing them.
"None of them understand. None of them ever will. I just... I just want to be more than this, what I am now." he whispers, his voice unsteady. You give his hand a firm, reassuring squeeze, leaning forward a little. "Hey. Not one damn person is perfect, but... You're awfully close, Draco. There's good in you, yet. I'm not giving up on you just because everyone else has." you tell him, your gaze earnest.
He swallows hard, his fingers trembling briefly against yours, before he reaches for his quill with his free hand. "All this time, then? Why the bloody hell did you never tell me?" he whispers. Tears well up in your eyes as you stare back at him. "I didn't know I had the nerve to say it, until now." you answer. He laughs, though the sound is a tad rueful.
"You could've told me." he murmurs. Now it's your turn to laugh, as you fight to keep the tears at bay. "You wouldn't have wanted me." you whisper. His gaze softens, the quill slipping from his fingers once more as he reaches out to gently caress the side of your face. "You don't know that." he murmurs, a sad little smile pulling up one corner of his mouth. The tears in your eyes slip out then, unbidden.
"Hey... Come on, now, angel. No crying in my bed. Come here." he murmurs, letting go of your hand and patting the spot beside him. You get up and move to sit next to him, being careful not to disturb any of his books or papers. With the gentlest of movements, he takes your face in his hands, brushing your tears away with his thumbs.
"So all this time, then? Truly?" he asks, and you nod. "Always." you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder. He sighs, putting an arm around you and holding your hand again, before picking his quill up once more with his free hand, going back to his studies.
"Oh, angel, have you any idea how this feels for me? Little Y/N... Smartest girl in our Potions class. Always so quiet, always giving help to others, even when they don't deserve it... And she likes me. The boy who hated everybody." Draco says quietly.
"The boy who had no choice." you amend in a whisper, watching him write. He laughs that familiar laugh again, his quill ceasing its scratching on the parchment for a moment. "I do, though. Have a choice, I mean. But you were right, earlier. I've made all the wrong ones." he says. You shake your head at him, giving his hand a light squeeze. "Not this one. This one feels right." you whisper.
Draco is quiet for a moment, as he goes back to writing. Finally, he breaks the silence, and his voice is so quiet, you almost have to strain to hear him. "Yes, yes it does." he agrees, turning his head to place a soft kiss on the side of your forehead. The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes, and you can hear the faint sound of rain beginning to tap along the windowpanes, outside.
"By the way... Remind me to kick Potter's ass the next time I see him. He doesn't get to treat my angel the way he did..." Draco suddenly murmurs, his voice firm. His words ignite a small spark inside of you, gradually growing into a flame as bright as the ones burning away in the fireplace. His angel... He really does care about you too, then...
"Can I spend the night here, with you? If that's alright?" you ask him quietly. He nods, scoffing lightly. "I'd be rather insulted if you didn't, Y/N." he retorts. "Please... Stay as long as you'd like, angel." he adds in a softer tone, almost as an afterthought. You nod, letting out a yawn, hoping it'll go unnoticed by the boy. No such luck, though...
Draco laughs, squeezing your hand softly in his. "Go to sleep, Y/N. I'll be here when you wake up. I promise." he says lightly. You nod again, letting your eyes fall closed, the sounds of the crackling flames and softly scratching quill on the parchment lulling you into a peaceful slumber.
The face behind your closed eyelids is that of a beautiful blonde boy, his ocean eyes watching you as he smirks at you, making that spark in your very soul burn even brighter than before. How anyone else could make you feel like this... It would be impossible. Nobody else compared to Draco...
🐍DRACO'S POV 🐍
Y/N... Her quiet snores keep me in a tranquil frame of mind as I finish the last of my assignments, collecting the papers together before setting them aside on the bedside table. Gently shifting Y/N down onto the pillows, I get up from the bed and gather up my books, dumping them all in my school bag. Their muted clatter has me quickly glancing over my shoulder, afraid I've awoken Y/N, but she's still fast asleep on my bed.
As I watch her, she starts to shiver involuntarily in her sleep, her shoulders trembling a little and her jaw tensing. "Tsk. Poor angel, give me a moment. There we go." I whisper, shifting Y/N's legs out of the way and pulling the bed covers over her, tucking the heavy blankets up underneath her chin as I climb in beside her.
Almost immediately, her entire body relaxes, and a faint smile settles on her face. Looping an arm over her and pulling her close to me, I press a soft kiss to the back of her neck, breathing in her comforting scent. Huh... Green apples... It's like she knows. This thought makes me smile as I settle in beside her, holding her close.
She had been right, earlier tonight. I might have made all the wrong choices these past few years, but... Letting Y/N step foot into my room tonight. That had been the one good choice I'd made. I suppose maybe she wasn't as bad as the rest of the lot, then. Fucking perfect Saint Potter... Calling my angel mental for loving me.
He would think I've gone absolutely mad then, because... I loved Y/N, too. I loved her more than I was willing to admit to myself, more than she herself probably knew. She saw only the best in me, she always had. It was just a damn shame it had taken me so long to see it, too. Maybe things would change for the better, after tonight. Maybe little Y/N would be the one light for me in all the darkness. She saw what I had never been able to see in myself... She always would.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: So, there's this. 😳 Not me sitting here listening to Nilu's song "Are You With Me" on repeat while writing this. I really feel like Draco would be completely caught off guard by Reader confessing their love for him. 👌🏻 I hope you guys enjoyed this one as much I enjoyed writing it. Thanksssss... 💝
• You and Draco sit together during the lunch hour, and he catches you drinking your soda, one of the many Muggle products you've taken an interest in. Naturally, his curiosity gets the better of him...
"Ugh... Saint Potter! What a pathetic excuse for a Gryffindor!" you hear Draco grumble, as he sits down next to you. You glance over at him, trying your hardest not to smirk. "What's he gone and done this time?" you lightly tease him, taking another sip of your soda. Draco raises an eyebrow at you, and you can't hold back your grin.
"What hasn't he done?" the blonde boy retorts. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. What's that you have?" he adds, nodding at the bottle in your hand. You grin sheepishly at him, showing him the label on the green-tinted plastic bottle. "Soda. It's a Muggle product. Good one, too. Interesting texture." you answer, taking another sip.
He scoffs, though he continues to watch you, those blue-grey eyes fixated on you. You smirk to yourself, before passing the bottle to him. That raised eyebrow comes back, as Draco shakes his head at you. "No. Absolutely not." he says. You give him your best pleading look, even pushing your bottom lip out in a tiny pout. He sighs, rolling his eyes at you before taking the bottle from you.
"Fine. Fine, fine. If it'll get you to stop looking at me like that..." he grumbles, taking a small sip from the bottle. His reaction is almost instant; those blue-grey eyes widen as a look of mixed pain and confusion settles upon his face. He quickly hands the bottle back to you, covering his mouth with both hands. "Is it the taste?" you ask, and he shakes his head at you.
"Is it the texture?" you try, and he nods, his eyes squinting shut as he continues to cover his mouth with his hands. You try your hardest not to laugh as you tap him on the arm. "Dray, either spit or swallow. Come on." you say, grinning. He quickly swallows, letting out a few loud coughs afterwards. "Fucking-! Why would you willingly drink something like that?!" he exclaims.
You can't hold back your laughter, now. "What is it you didn't like? Is it a texture issue?" you ask. He nods, his eyes still wide as he looks over at you. "Why is it so... So violent, Y/N?!" he asks, that look of confusion back again. You laugh, lightly shaking the bottle in your hands, before pointing at the little bubbles rising up from the bottom.
"It's the carbonation. It's what gives it that texture." you explain. He scowls at the little green plastic bottle, scoffing again. "Honestly, those bloody Muggles! I don't want it, you finish it." he grumbles. You shrug, finishing the last bit of your soda, before getting up from the table.
"Come on, sourpuss. We're gonna be late for class." you say, grinning again. "Yeah, wouldn't that be a damn shame." Draco says sarcastically, getting up and taking your hand in his. As the two of you leave the Great Hall, you smile to yourself. Duly noted; the Prince of Slytherin doesn't like soda...
Everyone knows Alec Volturi has his darker moments, the moments that truly show why he's earned the title of the Volturi's most dangerous vampire. But when you try to help him, things take an unexpected, dark turn. Your one moment of helpfulness could very well be your last, thanks to one witch twin. But that couldn't be your Alec... Could it...?
• angst; TW dark themes; TW mentions of blood and violence; language
You stand there at the open window, watching the rain patter down noisily onto the stone ledge, leaving little drops and streaks. The water stains the usual sienna-colored stonework a dark red, reminding you of blood drops.
A shudder runs down your spine, and you pull your cardigan tighter around your shoulders, the sleeves a little too long for your hands, almost covering your fingers... Fingers that are currently clenched tightly into fists as you wait with bated breath for him to come back. Alec... He left without a single word to you this morning, merely shooting you a dark look as he stormed out of the room.
He hasn't come back, yet. You two had only been mated for about 6 months, and you still felt like you barely even knew the witch twin, really knew him. Oh, you had heard all the horror stories, though. Tales of how in one of his many fits of rage, he had single-handedly beaten one of the human secretaries to a bloody pulp, not even a single tooth left intact for dental record identification.
Of course, at the time you hadn't believed a word of it. Surely he couldn't be the terrifying monster everyone depicted him as, right? He had been fairly cordial to you the first few months you two were together. Always letting you hold his hand, occasionally giving you the soft kiss on the forehead, things like that... And then one day, it all just abruptly... Changed. And not for the better.
He had become cold, distant. It was like someone had flipped a switch, honestly. All of the light and love had left those soft red eyes of his, the crimson pools hardening into stone rubies, not an ounce of warmth in them. You had no idea what had brought it all on, but you missed the old Alec, your Alec. With a sigh, you turn away from the window, closing the little doors as the rain begins to pick up.
The wind outside beats against the glass panes, howling eerily, an almost mournful sound. "I know. It feels empty here..." you whisper, curling your arms around yourself, as if to hold all the pain inside. You cast a forlorn glance at the door, before making a decision, one you didn't know you would regret until later. If Alec didn't want to come to you, maybe you would go try and find him...
》》 ◇▪◇▪◇▪◇▪◇ 《《
You run your hand along the wall of the hallway as you walk, letting your fingers brush against the rough stone. As you round the corner, you almost walk face-first into Demetri, and he reaches out a hand to steady you before you lose your balance. "Good morning, piccolina..." he greets you with a warm smile.
You shake your head at him, your eyes wandering to gaze out the window for a moment, before you stare down at the floor. "Doesn't feel like it..." you murmur, despondent. The blonde Tracker lifts your head so you have to look him in the eyes, and his own eyes are filled with concern. "What has us in low spirits this morning, pretty girl?" he asks, his brows furrowing as he gazes down at you.
You shrug, heaving a weary sigh. "Alec." you answer, your voice so quiet you almost breathe the single word. Some unknown expression crosses over Demetri's face, before he quickly regains his composure again. "Do you know where he is?" you add, heaving another sigh. Demetri hesitates for a moment, his eyes uncertain.
"Piccolina... I wouldn't go looking for him, not right now..." he says, a hint of desperation in his tone. You tug your arm from his grip, suddenly frustrated. "Please, Demetri. I have to find him. I have to know that things are okay between us." you say. The Tracker nods once, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers before gesturing behind him, down the hall.
"He's... He's down in the training room. But, might I give you some advice, Y/N? Please. If you have any sense of self-preservation, you'll leave him be to work this out on his own. Just a thought..." he murmurs, before giving you one last parting glance. There's so much fear there in his eyes for you, his expression almost that of a man being burned at the stake.
And his words remind you of the warning Alec's sister had given you, just last week. In fact, everyone had warned you in one way or another to stay away from the witch twin when he was in one of his fits. But surely there must be some way you can help him, some way to get through to him, despite the proverbial black clouds that seemed to hang around him all the time. You were his mate, after all. That had to count for something...
》》 ◇▪◇▪◇▪◇▪◇ 《《
With a nervous swallow, you push open the familiar set of doors to the training room, trying hard to slow the frantic beat of your heart. Even now, it's as if your body and mind know that something terrible is coming, something you won't have even the slightest chance of running away from.
Your eyes scan the room, and for a moment, you doubt Demetri's words, until you spy a dark-cloaked figure standing near one of the shadowed corners. You squint, peering into the dimly lit space, your eyes trying to adjust. It can't be him, can it...? "A-Alec?" you ask, your voice shaking as you take a tentative step forward. The figure tenses up, before whirling around to face you, and the expression on his face is murderous.
The witch twin's hair is untidy, a thin band of scruff along his jawline, and the irises of his eyes hold only a narrow line of red around the pupil. His mouth turns up in a smirk, but it's not the one you're used to, the one that's full of humor and love and warmth. This smirk contains ice in it, cold enough to chill the blood running through your veins, to nearly freeze your heart mid-beat.
"Well, well. You should have listened to my sister when you had the chance, Y/N." he tells you. "Y/N"... The way he says your name sends another chill down your spine. His voice is cold, flat, uncaring... The way he almost forces himself to spit that one word out, like it's vitriol on his tongue. It's not the Alec you remember. This is not the Alec you remember, not by a long mile.
This Alec looks like he hasn't fed in days, or weeks. He looks almost... Feral. You swallow hard past the sudden fear building up in the back of your throat as you take a half-step back, just in case. You take notice of the way Alec subtly mimics your movement, shifting his weight forward. And then his words finally sink in: the warning his sister gave you, not even a week ago.
~~~~◇~~~~
"Y/N. Talk to me. I can tell something's bothering you." Jane says softly, looking up at you. You sigh as you sink down into one of the library chairs, your gaze drifting to meet the petite blonde's. "It's... It's Alec. He seems... Different. More distant, lately. Less attentive." you whisper. Jane's eyes widen momentarily, a brief look of panic in them, before her gaze returns to normal.
"It's happening again, then. My brother has his... Moods. They can change on a dime, without any warning. Y/N, I want you to listen to me very carefully. Do not try and approach him when he's like this. Give him his space, he'll get through this on his own. I say this not to be rude, but out of fear for your own safety. Do you understand me?" she says slowly, firmly. You nod, your heart sinking.
While you want nothing more than to be able to go to Alec and comfort him, you know his sister is right; he needs time to work this out on his own, whatever it is that's bothering him. With a weak smile, you reach across the table to pat Jane's hand, before getting up and turning to head for the door. "Thank you." you whisper, your voice barely audible. You know the blonde's heard it, however, because you hear her quiet hum in response. Give Alec some time... You could do that. Right?
~~~~◇~~~~
A low growl brings you back to the present, startling you out of your thoughts as you glance across the room at Alec. His expression is a black cloud, his eyes narrowed into slits as he takes another step forward. "I j-just... I wanted to help..." you stammer quietly, in an effort to bring him to his senses. He scoffs, shaking his head at you.
"That's the problem with you pathetic humans. You're always just 'wanting to help'. You don't ever learn, do you?" he sneers. The last part hits home where it counts, a double-edged dagger straight through all the important arteries, directly to the heart. Has he always felt this way about you, then...? You swallow hard, taking another step backwards.
"A, baby? Please, let me-" you begin, your voice trembling. Alec shakes his head vehemently at you, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides. "Enough!" he hisses, shifting his weight forward as if preparing to spring. For all you know, he just might.
"You and all your pathetic words, always trying to help, always meddling where you don't need to be! Do me a favor and stop trying! I never needed you before, and I certainly don't now! Get out of here, before I rip your fucking throat out!" he snarls, taking another subtle step towards you. Despite the frantic pace of your heart, you reach out towards him. "A-Alec, please..." you whisper. "GET! OUT!" he roars, his eyes blazing a furious red.
You flinch, and for the briefest of moments, you could swear you see his gaze soften the tiniest bit, before it hardens again. He clenches his jaw, taking two steps forward, raising one of his fists. In a hurry, you whirl around and bolt towards the door, not even throwing a spare glance over your shoulder. Once outside, you continue to run down the hall, passing both Felix and Demetri on the way.
You ignore their calls of inquiry as you dash past them, heading for the one person you know you shouldn't go to, the one person who may be able to fix all of this. Tears spring to your eyes and your chest feels tight, like your ribs are constricting down around your heart, threatening to smash it to a pulp.
You don't stop running until you reach that familiar door, beating your fists frantically against the dark wood, before sinking down into a crumpled heap on the stone floor. Not even a moment later, the door opens, and a familiar blonde pokes her head out into the hallway, letting out a small gasp when she sees you sitting there. "Y/N, what on earth-?" she breathes, crouching down next to you.
You turn and all but throw yourself at her, burying your face in her chest, letting out huge, broken sobs that seem to shake your whole body. Chelsea pats you softly on the back as she holds you, a little unsure of how to handle your emotional breakdown. "What happened, who-?" she starts, but you don't let her finish, instead sobbing out the name of the one person who has cut you so deep, you might as well be cleaved in two. "Alec...!"
A soft hiss echoes from somewhere inside of Chelsea's room, and you can hear a male voice speak up from the darkness. "We all warned her this would happen. Now he's done it." Afton grumbles. Chelsea shushes him before helping you up off the floor, wiping your tears away and pushing a wet strand of hair off your face. "C-c-can you fix our bond? Please, anything to help..." you cry, staring imploringly up into Chelsea's soft red gaze.
"I can't fix what isn't there, darling..." she answers nervously. Seeing the broken confusion on your face, her eyes widen. "Oh, he didn't tell you? Well, now. Our witch twin certainly has been rather naughty.... Oh, Y/N. You... You and Alec aren't actually mated. He lied to you to keep you here. Although why, I haven't the faintest." she muses aloud.
"It's because she's only a bloodsinger." Afton chimes in from inside the room, his voice holding a note of laziness and boredom to it. Chelsea's eyes widen again, and she lets out a forceful exhale, like the wind's been knocked out of her. "Of course, that's why he...! Oh, Y/N. There's nothing I can do for you, I'm sorry..." she murmurs, remorse in her eyes.
You swallow past the second round of tears catching in the back of your throat, a new idea beginning to form in your head. "C-c-can you b-break the bond he has on me? Make it as if it n-n-never happened?" you sniffle, wiping your nose on the sleeve of your cardigan. Chelsea shakes her head at you, a look of deep regret in her eyes.
"I cannot. I will tell you this, though. If he has hurt you this deeply... Just leave? Leave us all and don't turn back. I'm more than capable of breaking Master Aro's ties to you if the occasion calls for it, though it would take a lot of work. Y/N, you're not happy here, any of us can see that. But don't let the witch twin suspect anything. Promise me, you will get out of here alive." Chelsea speaks quickly, her words fierce and firm as she stares down at you.
It was kind of funny, and also kind of pathetic, when you thought about it. You've never really known just how much of a connection you'd establish with the blonde vampire until this moment, when you needed her most. With a quick nod of your head, you wipe away the rest of your tears, your resolve slowly strengthening, despite the painful state your heart is still in right now.
So this was your only other option, then... To leave. To leave these castle walls and never come back, not for anything or anyone. It would be like you were never here, like you had never even set foot through those heavy wooden front doors. You swallow hard, your gaze drifting past Chelsea to stare into the darkness at Afton.
"Do me one last favor. Please. I know you don't owe me anything, but... When I leave, when I'm gone... Make it hurt for him. Just as much as he's hurt me. Make the wound so deep he won't ever be able to heal from it. I know how much you hate him." you whisper. A low chuckle sounds from the dark room, followed by Afton's quiet voice.
"No promises. But I will see what I can do. Just get out while you still have a chance." he answers. You shoot one last glance up at Chelsea, and she reaches out a hand to smooth down a stray lock of your hair. "Go. Do what you need to do. Some of us will never forget you, you odd little creature." she says sadly, patting you endearingly on the head.
You nod, turning and walking slowly back up the hallway, back towards the room you and Alec still share, despite all the negative energy between you both. Upon opening the door, you see the witch twin himself standing there by the window, the little shutters open once more.
The rain has eased up a little, though the drops are still fairly large as they cascade down from the roof shingles above. Alec's voice is quiet, rough, as he hears you enter the room. "I'm sorry." he murmurs, though he doesn't turn his attention away from the window. Your gaze hardens, your hands inadvertently clenching into fists at your sides.
His words hold very little authenticity in them, you know that now... Especially after what Chelsea told you. He had been lying to you from the start, all in an effort to keep you captive here. You really should have listened to everyone's warnings. Gritting your teeth, you head for the bedside table, reaching for your book you left there this morning.
"It's whatever." you answer coldly. Alec whirls around then, his gaze sharp as he hears your response. "No, it's not whatever. Don't pull that shit with me. I really am sorry. You just-" he starts, his eyes narrowing. You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you stare imploringly at him, your own eyes beginning to narrow into a glare.
"Just what, Alec?? What the fuck do you want from me? Go ahead, hurt me some more, you goddamn sadist! You're no better than the rest of them, you know that?" you tell him, growing angrier by the second. A loud hiss leaves his mouth, and his hands clench into fists again, his eyes flashing with some dark emotion. "Take it back." he warns you, his voice low and cold as ice.
You can't even bring yourself to be afraid of him right now; you're too mad. In a snap decision, you reach your arm back and chuck your book at him as hard as you can, catching him off guard. The heavy book hits him squarely in the face, clattering to the ground, the pages rustling as they make contact with the stone floors.
"Get fucked." you spit the words at him, turning and heading back towards the door. Before you can make it even three feet, you feel Alec's hand on your wrist, yanking you back towards him. The look on his face is one of absolute fury, no longer the dead calm from a few minutes ago. "Y/N. What do you need to say to me?" he demands harshly.
His words are reminiscent of a parent scolding their child, only more abusive. You grit your teeth as you lean toward him, your face inches from his. "You're so volatile... A fucking monster! No wonder they tried to burn you at the stake back then!" you hiss, putting as much venom into your words as possible. His eyes widen in shock as he lets go of your arm, and you know you've deeply wounded him, but you don't care.
He's hurt you and lied to you and probably gaslighted you more times than you care to count. Turnabout is fair play, on all accounts. Before he can even blink, you turn and head out the door, not even bothering to look back. Waiting a week before you leave... You didn't know if you could last that long, seeing his face every single day. You had to get out of here now, or you would never be able to leave.
👿ALEC'S POV 👿
"No wonder they tried to burn you at the stake back then!" Y/N's words echo in my mind, the pain of them still fresh and raw, leaving a gaping wound in their wake. The longer they linger in my mind, the angrier I slowly become, until my vision is tinged with red. Storming out of the room, I slam the door behind me and head down the hallway.
I can still smell Y/N's scent lingering there in the close space, and it burns me, the fire scraping along my lungs and the back of my throat. I pass by Chelsea and Afton in the hallway, and they both do their best to avoid my gaze when I look over at them, though Afton makes the mistake of shooting a nervous glance over his shoulder, in the direction where Y/N's scent is the strongest.
He knows something, he has to. In a flash, I slam him by his throat into the wall, the stone cracking a little under the force. "Where is she going?" I spit through clenched teeth. Chelsea gives me a warning growl, and I snarl back at her in response, causing her to take a step back. I'm not in the mood for games today. Focusing my attention back on Afton, I raise one eyebrow, and he hisses at me.
"Get fucked!" he growls. Funny, that's the same thing little Y/N said to me, too. My hand closes around his throat, and we all hear a sickening crack. "I'm only going to ask you one more time. And then I start removing limbs." I warn him, my voice dangerously low. He smiles, the expression one of sick joy and satisfaction.
"She's leaving you, you piece of shit! The little human has finally had enough of your fucking games." he answers, smug. "Good thing, too. You don't deserve her." he adds, leaning his face closer to mine. In a blind rage, I let out a loud snarl, closing my fist tighter around his throat, not letting go until I hear a vicious snap. Afton's decapitated body tumbles to the ground, his head following suit.
"Run, my darling girl!" Chelsea suddenly shrieks at the top of her lungs down the hallway, her face a mask of worry and fear. My ears pick up on the faint sound of frantic, running footsteps, and I clench my jaw, turning and stalking off in the direction of Y/N's scent. If she thinks she can get away from me this easily, she'll find out soon enough just how wrong she is.
"Y/N...! You might as well stop running, you know I'll just have Demetri track you down!" I call down the hallway, struggling to keep my voice level. I want nothing more than to strangle the living shit out of her right now, and the thought both startles me and pleases me in a sick way.
Her scent gets stronger the further down the hallway I walk, and up ahead, I see a flash of Y/N's hair as she hurries around the corner, disappearing out of sight. The hunter in me revels at how close my prey is, and a cruel smile twists its way onto my face, a low growl building in my chest.
She has little to no chance of making it out of these castle walls alive, not now that I've finally caught up to her. But I have to remember to make this as convincing as possible, one last ditch effort to get her to just be complacent, easy to manipulate and even easier to keep captive here.
All of the muscles in my face relax until the cruel smile is now one of a much softer nature, a misleading sign of hope... False hope. Time for me to put an end to Y/N's nonsense, once and for all. With a deep breath, I step around the corner, coming to a halt as I see Y/N standing there a few feet away.
Her eyes widen in terror when she sees me standing there watching her, and she takes a step back, towards the flight of stairs leading down to the second floor. "Sweet face." I speak up, keeping my voice calm and smooth, a hint of innocence contained within it. She halts, her face shifting into a mask of uncertainty.
"Sweet face, come here. I've thought about it, and... We can work this out. I'm so sorry I've hurt you. Just please, come back." I say softly, leaning towards her. Something flickers in her eyes, and she takes another step back. I fight hard to keep my building anger contained and compressed, to keep my face and voice smooth so she doesn't suspect a thing. "Y/N, little human. Please." I say.
She opens her mouth as if to say something, and I lean forward on instinct. Her eyes follow the movement, and she swallows hard. Even from here, I can see the vein pulsing in that perfect little spot at the base of her throat... A wet, warm place that offers the promise of sweet, velvety red surrender. My throat burns again, and I swallow hard against the pain, forcing it back down.
"Y/N, mia amore... Come home to me. Where you belong." I say, trying again. Something in my words must trigger a reaction in her, because her gaze suddenly hardens, the uncertainty evolving into an expression of disgust and loathing. She shakes her head at me, turning to head for the stairs. Letting out a low snarl, I stalk towards her, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her back towards me. Enough with the damn games...!
"You belong here! With me!" I snarl at her, my fingers tightening their grip on her arm. I can already feel the veins beneath starting to buckle under the weight of my grip, and my throat burns again, a reminder of the precious cargo contained within. "No I don't, let go!" Y/N shouts back at me, her eyes wild with terror.
Something in me suddenly snaps at the look in her eyes. It's the same look the villagers gave me and my sister when we were human, the look of pure horror and fear, the look of people who refuse to have anything to do with the unknown, with the different. Letting out another snarl, I relinquish my hold on Y/N's arm, giving her a vicious shove towards the stairs. "Let go? Gladly." I hiss.
I watch as she struggles to regain her footing, before eventually losing her balance altogether and tumbling backwards down the stairs. The sickening thud as she lands at the foot of them doesn't even phase me, not like it normally would. I take one step forward, peering down the stairs, and grit my teeth when I see Y/N trying to crawl away on all fours. Miraculously, she had survived the fall.
This won't do, not at all. With slow, precise steps, I make my way down the stairs, heaving an irritated sigh. "Just look at the lengths you've caused me to go to, angel. I don't actually enjoy hurting you, Y/N..." I call out. Another lie, just more fuel for the fire. A pained whimper echoes back to me in response, accompanied by the sound of Y/N's fingernails scraping against the stone floors as she continues to try and crawl away from me.
Eventually, I catch up with her, and reaching down, I grab her by the left leg and yank her backwards, towards me. And then I bring my foot down on it, as hard as I can. A satisfying crunch sound fills the quiet stairwell as the bone shatters beneath my foot. Y/N's ear-piercing scream is loud, but these walls are thick. I have all the time in the world for this, and I'm going to enjoy every minute...
"Oh, I know, angel. Maybe if you'd just listened to me, we wouldn't be doing this right now." I say, trying unsuccessfully to hide the gleeful smirk on my face. Leaning down, I nudge Y/N's broken leg with my foot, and she groans in pain, her jaw clenched as she struggles to keep from screaming again.
"I bet you wish you could just take it all back, do it all differently, huh? Kind of a pity, really. If you would've just played nice and went along with everything, it wouldn't have come to this." I continue, gesturing down at Y/N's mangled leg.
Without even thinking about it, I bring my foot down on her other leg, shattering the bones in that one, too. The scent of her blood quickly fills the air around us as the bone tears through her skin, and I swallow hard, ignoring the burn. I have to stay focused, or I won't be able to enjoy a single second of this.
I ignore her loud shrieks of pain, instead shrugging as I gesture down the length of the hallway. "Oh, by all means, go ahead. I'll give you a ten minute head start, sweet face. See, word travels fast around here. I heard about your little plan to leave me. And that bothers me. But do you know what the worst part of it is? I had to hear it from Afton, of all people! Do you have any idea just how badly that wounds me, angel?" I say, raising an eyebrow at Y/N.
She stares defiantly up at me, gritting her teeth against the pain. I wave her off with a look of boredom. "Go on, crawl away like the pathetic little creature you are. I'll wait." I say, shrugging again. To my utter surprise, Y/N begins to pull herself along the floor by her arms, all the while biting back loud groans of pain.
My vision starts to bleed red again, as I quickly realize that this truly is it. She's so desperate to get away from me, to leave me, that she'll do anything... Even with a few broken limbs. Clenching my jaw, I take slow steps behind her, my hands curling into clawed fists. Screw the ten minute head start; she doesn't even deserve that much, anyway.
Without warning, Y/N suddenly stops, twisting herself around to glare at me before spitting in my direction. "They warned me about you, you know. Everybody did... They told me how you helped overthrow the Romanians. But I guess it doesn't really matter anymore, does it? You're no more different than those two are. Thriving on the anarchy, on the pain of others." she hisses at me.
My eyes narrow in a fierce glare as I take a threatening step towards her, but she doesn't even notice. "No, wait. I take it back. You're worse than those two." she tells me, before twisting back around to try and drag herself away from me again. Her words set off a ticking time bomb inside of me, and in that instant, all possible sense of reason goes out the window.
I want nothing more than to make her hurt, to make her swallow her words as she chokes back the screams and the cries... I want to make her pay. With an angry snarl, I reach down and grab her by her shoulders, quickly turning her around so she's lying on her back. "Don't you dare compare me to those two! So help me, Y/N, I'm going to make those words die out in your throat as I rip it out!" I roar, furious.
My hand moves to Y/N's throat, my fingers curling tightly closed around it, as I haul her up off the floor. Her feet don't even touch the ground as I keep her suspended there in a vicious chokehold, my nails digging into her skin and leaving little red crescents there. That look is back in her eyes again, all signs of her earlier defiance utterly gone in an instant.
That look of pure terror and fear and loathing is back in her E/C eyes, as she struggles feebly in my grip, her hands clawing weakly at my arm. Every part of me suddenly feels too hot, too smothering, as the anger boils dangerously below the surface. My eyes narrow as I turn and slam Y/N into one of the walls.
Little hairline cracks form along the grey stonework as Y/N's head makes contact with it, and her blood leaves crimson streaks along the edges of those cracks. I can smell it, and my throat feels like it's trying to claw itself out of my body from the inside out. I can see myself reflected in Y/N's wide, terror-struck eyes, and I notice that my own are a deep, dark black color.
Y/N claws at my arm again, letting out a pained whimper, and I grit my teeth as I let go of her, watching her fall to the ground in a crumpled heap. Purple bruises in the shape of my fingers adorn her throat, and for some reason, that deeply satisfies me. The prey bears the mark of the predator...
She lets out a quiet groan as she lifts her hands to protect her throat, though it will do her little to no good against someone like me. Her wide E/C eyes begin to well up with hot, angry tears. Any other time, my heart would've broken to see her this way. But that was back when the lie was still in place, when she thought she was my mate.
In all truth, she's nothing more than a bloodsinger, a mere snack to me, something to soothe the aching burn in the back of my throat. I lean down until my face is mere inches from hers, softening my gaze to appear less threatening. "What, sweet face? You want me to take the pain away, is that it? Do you want me to make it all go away?" I say softly, reaching out to caress Y/N's cheek.
She flinches away from my touch, though her gaze never leaves mine. Hesitantly, she nods, and there's a faint glimmer of hope in those tear-filled eyes. Standing back up, I nudge her left leg with the toe of my boot, and part of the bone that's sticking out crumbles, leaving little specks of white dust on the stone floors. My gaze grows cold, all the softness gone. "Then beg for it. Now." I say, my lower lip curling out in disgust.
Y/N's eyes widen even further, and I can see the purple marks on her throat move ever so slightly as she swallows hard. "P-please..." she whispers, her voice hoarse. She won't even say my name, and this angers me. "Not good enough. Try again." I demand, my voice dropping into a growl on the end. "Please..." she murmurs, staring up at me. The fury begins to rise up again, as I lean down and grab her by the shoulders, shaking her.
"Say my name! Fucking say it!" I snarl, my fingers digging into her skin. She winces, and shakes her head at me. "Y-you don't deserve to hear it..." she whispers, giving out a weak cough. That's it; I'm done. I can't work like this anymore, it's no longer fun for me. With another snarl that's almost a scream, I haul her up off the floor again, clutching her tightly to my chest as I wind my fingers through her hair, yanking her head viciously to the side.
The skin of her throat is exposed to me, and I can hear the blood rushing through the veins beneath, can smell the sweet, tantalizing aroma of it. With one last growl, I lean down and bite hard, making sure to dig my teeth in as deep as they'll go. Y/N's cries are choked off into a muffled gurgling sound as the blood fills her lungs and her throat, cutting off her air supply. Her hands beat uselessly against my back, until they go limp at her sides.
At the same time, her sweet blood fills my mouth, washing over my tongue and bathing it in the sweet taste of the crimson liquid. A satisfied groan leaves my mouth, muffled against Y/N's skin, as I swallow mouthful after mouthful of her blood, easing the burn in my throat and stamping out the thirst. All too soon, I find myself unable to drink anymore, though there's still plenty of blood left.
Y/N's eyes blink once, twice, before they finally still, the irises going dull as the light leaves her eyes. Running a hand through my hair, I take my nail and run it along the bite wound in Y/N's throat, widening the cut even further until the flow of blood is no longer a stream, but almost a torrent. The red stains my cloak and my fingers, but I don't care. I'm enjoying this a little too much.
Gathering up more of Y/N's blood on my fingers, I paint a little red heart at the base of her throat, followed by little tear streaks leading down from her eyes. I'm so engrossed in my work, I don't even hear the footsteps sneaking up on me until Jane's shocked voice echoes through the quiet of the hallway, startling me.
"Oh my god.... B-brother, no....! What did.... What did you do...??" she gasps, horrified. I turn to look over my shoulder at her, baring my teeth in warning. She doesn't even flinch, instead taking a step forward. Her eyes are round with horror, and she looks like she might be sick, if that's even possible. "Y/N is... She... She loved you, Alec! She was trying to fix things....!" Jane says, too stunned to continue.
She takes another step forward, and I lose it. A vicious, roaring growl rips its way out of my throat, as I stagger to my feet, lunging at my sister. Before I can even reach her, thick arms wind themselves around my shoulders, holding me in place. "No, you don't. That's enough." Felix's voice sounds from behind me.
I struggle against his grip, shouting out unintelligible expletives, interspersed with loud hisses. An angry hiss answers my own, and I see Demetri step into my line of sight. "Enough! You utter child...!" he hisses, glaring at me. I lunge for him, but Felix's arms lock tighter around me.
"That poor girl loved you, entirely much more than she should have had any right to. She trusted you, Alec! And you abused that trust for all it was worth, you broke her until she couldn't handle it anymore. Imagine how she must have felt, having to seek comfort in Afton and Chelsea, of all people. That darling little girl had so much faith in you, she had such high hopes that things would get better, and yet... Here we are." he continues, gesturing down at Y/N's broken and battered body.
"Here we are, indeed." Jane agrees, her voice somber as she glances down at Y/N. "She wasn't even my mate! She was nothing more than a damn bloodsinger!" I shout, my gaze defiant and my eyes narrowed. Demetri suddenly takes a step forward, doing the unexpected. His hand makes contact with my face in a vicious slap, the sound echoing through the hallway. "Regardless of the fact, she still loved and trusted you!" he roars back at me, furious.
I lash out at him, my hands clawing into tight fists as I reach out to take a swing at him. He neatly dodges out of my reach, giving me a disgusted look. "You are such a goddamn child. Have you no self-control? Wait until the Masters hear about your blatant lack of humanity. You know damn well this will break Marcus's heart. He adored that little human, as did we all." he tells me coldly.
I spit in his direction, but miss. Felix hisses a warning, his arms tightening further around me. "Knock it off. Or I will deck you and put you down like the animal you are right now." he growls. Jane moves to stand next to Demetri, her gaze shifting down to look once at Y/N, before she looks up at me again.
"I don't even know who you are, right now. My own brother would never do such a horrendous thing, not to someone like Y/N. This is too far, even for you." she murmurs, her eyes watering with venomous tears, before she turns away from me. Demetri scoffs at me, shaking his head in disapproval.
"She's right, this was too far. Y/N deserved so much better than this. I can't even deal with you right now. Felix, Jane, will you please take Alec to see the Masters. I need to give our little Y/N a proper burial." Demetri says quietly, moving past us to gently pull Y/N up into his arms, cradling her like a child.
"Don't you fucking touch her!" I snarl, angry again. Demetri glares at me as he passes by, scoffing once more. "Oh, how lovely. Now you care. Too little, too late, Alec." he says, before turning and heading down the hallway, disappearing around the corner. As soon as he's gone, Felix begins forcing me up the stairs and through a hallway, toward the double doors at the end.
I struggle against his grip again, and he growls in response. "Jane, a little help?" he asks. In an instant, I know what he's asking, and my eyes widen, all struggling forgotten for the moment. My own sister, she wouldn't...! But she does. Her angelic face turns towards me as she walks, and her gaze hardens, her lower lip curling out in disgust. Not even a minute later, the pain overtakes me, until it's all I can feel, all I can think about...
✴DEMETRI'S POV ✴
This poor girl, all the pain she must have went through. Both of her legs appear to be broken, the bones utterly shattered. That must have been such agony for her, to have to endure that. My heart aches, the longer I stare down at Y/N's mangled and lifeless body in my arms. "You poor darling. You deserved so much better than this. You loved too deeply, more than any of us could have." I whisper, as I carry her towards my room.
Gently nudging open the door with my foot, I carry her past the threshold and into the bathroom, placing her down gently onto the marble floor. As I begin to fill up the tub with warm water, I cast another glance down at Y/N. Those pretty E/C eyes of hers, eyes that once sparkled with untold humor, eyes that could hold a smile in them even when her mouth didn't... They now stare blankly ahead, the irises dull and void of any life or light.
I reach out a hand to gently close them, so it looks like she's merely sleeping, though even I know better than that. "There you go, piccolina. No sense in having to see any more pain and darkness, even in the afterlife." I murmur quietly. While my beliefs in heaven may be a bit convoluted, I do honestly think there's a place out there somewhere that's better than this one, a place Y/N deserves to stay.
She had brought so much light and love to all of us, even those of us that didn't necessarily earn the right to it. Alec's angry face crosses my thoughts, and my jaw clenches involuntarily. Taking a deep breath, I calm myself and focus on the task at hand. With gentle fingers, I undress Y/N, taking great care not to disturb any of her wounds, though I know she's no longer able to feel any of it.
As soon as all of her clothing is removed, I pick her up and carefully sit her up in the water, with her back against the side of the bathtub. Grabbing one of the softer washcloths, I empty some lavender-scented body soap onto it and begin cleaning up Y/N. "Here we are, darling. I want to at least make you presentable for those proverbial golden gates. They're going to love you on the other side, such a gentle soul you have." I murmur quietly.
It breaks my immortal heart to see how quickly the bathwater turns pink, and then red. There was so much bloodshed involved in that witch twin's tantrum, so much hatred and violence. I gently tilt Y/N's head to the side, dabbing at the edges of her ragged bite wounds. Two large, bloody crescent marks adorn her skin, as well as various purple bruises in the shape of Alec's fingers.
It was going to take a fair amount of makeup to cover those up, but that was alright. I would do anything possible to make sure that Y/N looked just as beautiful as she did on the day she first arrived here in Volterra. I still remember that day vividly, the way the sun had cast an almost ethereal sparkle to her E/C eyes, the way she had smiled warmly at me, even though she had just the faintest hint of nervousness about her.
Without me realizing it, a few venomous tears fall into the bathwater below, and I hurry to wipe away the rest of them, letting out a broken, humorless laugh. "Oh, darling. He had to take you away from us so soon, didn't he? I don't think I'll ever quite forgive him for this... Not for a long while." I say, my voice trembling. With shaking hands, I finish cleaning up Y/N, before reaching down to drain the red-tinged bathwater.
As the last of it goes down the drain, Y/N's mangled leg catches my eye, and I heave a ragged sigh. "I suppose I'll have to mend that for you, won't I? You're lucky I'm good with a needle." I joke, though the humor doesn't reach my eyes or my heart. Scooping Y/N up into my arms again, I wrap her up in one of the larger, fluffier towels, and carry her over to the bed, setting her down ever so gently.
I quickly gather everything I need, setting it all on the bed beside Y/N. Wincing to myself, I reach down and push the bone back through the skin of her leg, until it's no longer visible. Then, I begin to stitch up her wound, closing it off with a secure little knot, before clipping the loose stitching thread.
"Much better. Now let's get you dressed and then we'll cover those bruises, yes?" I murmur, stepping away from the bed and entering my walk-in closet. I have just the dress for Y/N; it's one I had been saving in the hopes that one day I might be able to gift it to my mate, but alas, that day still hasn't come. Ah, well... Y/N needed it more than anyone else, right now.
Grabbing the soft baby blue gown off the rack, I undo the zipper and exit the closet, hurrying to get Y/N dressed before anybody walks in. The soft velvet fabric hugs her body in all the right places, accentuating all of her pretty curves. With a tiny half-smile, I turn and head back into the closet before leaving it again, this time with matching baby blue, satin ballet flats.
As I slip them onto Y/N's bare feet, it feels oddly reminiscent of a more twisted version of Cinderella, and my eyes burn with unshed tears. "You look w-wonderful, darling little Y/N..." I can barely choke out the words, and with a shaky sigh, I hurry to wipe away the tears welling up in my eyes.
After about a minute or two of applying makeup to Y/N's skin, all of her bruises and wounds have been covered. Just glancing at her, you would hardly be able to tell that she went through the horrors of Alec's temper earlier today. "Alright, sweetness. Let's get you ready for your burial, yes? I know the perfect place, somewhere that damn witch twin won't even think to look." I whisper softly.
Carefully, I scoop her up into my arms again, leaving my room and heading back down the hallway. I pass by Heidi on the way, and she freezes in her tracks as she catches sight of Y/N in my arms. "N-no, she's not..??" she can't even finish her question. I nod, and tears fill her eyes as she watches me walk past her, on my way to bury one of Earth's sweetest little angels.
The rain is picking up again, and for once, it feels like little ice shards against my skin, not at all comforting. Once I'm away from the castle and its inhabitants, (and anyone else who might see), I break into a full-on run, heading for the woods behind our massive home. I only stop running when I find the spot I usually visit, the little abandoned wooden bridge that stretches over the small, babbling stream.
I set Y/N down, and using my bare hands, I dig through the earth until I'm about 4 feet down, before leaping out and rinsing my hands in the stream. Taking Y/N into my arms again, I gently lower her into the semi-shallow grave, before reaching down to toss a handful of soft dirt down into it.
My thoughts are extremely somber as I refill the grave, before I grab two fairly large sticks and tie them together with various blades of grass to form a little cross. With a heavy heart, I gather up some of the wildflowers growing nearby and tie the stems together with another few blades of grass to form a bouquet, laying it down on Y/N's grave.
As I stand there in front of the gravesite, I can't stop the flow of venomous tears. "Darling... You have no idea just how much you will be missed. I promise you, not a day will go by where I won't come out here and visit you, and talk of great things with you. Though you might be gone, I will never forget you, and how you made me smile. Sleep well, my sweet little Y/N... Until next time..." I murmur, wiping my nose rather unceremoniously on my sleeve.
The rain beats down on me, the drops creating dark spots along my cloak and on the tops of my boots. A ragged sigh slips out from between my lips, as I push my rain-soaked hair away from my forehead. Today was not supposed to be like this, things were not supposed to be this morose, this... This hopeless. We all knew quite well how badly one of the twins' tantrums could get, but things would usually blow over fairly quickly.
Besides, they had both absolutely adored Y/N when she first got here. Jane had taken it upon herself to allow Y/N into her chambers to see her full collection of porcelain dolls, even going so far as to let Y/N touch one of them. And Alec, well... He had allowed our little human to walk with him among the flowers in our private gardens.
But now all of those sweet memories, they're utterly tainted by the events of today. Alec had no right to take things this far, to snuff out the light that was Y/N. My hands tremble at my sides, as I sink to my knees in the grass, digging my fingers into the wet earth. "You just had to steal her away from us, from me, didn't you? You pathetic fucking child...!" I mutter, my voice breaking on the last word.
My shoulders shake with a few quiet sobs, the ache in my heart nearly overtaking me and drowning me in its pain. Only then do I realize why Y/N's death hurts more than anything else I've experienced in all of my centuries of immortality. The stunning clarity has me reeling, and a fresh wave of tears cascade down my cheeks as I struggle to catch my breath.
It feels like my own ribcage is closing down around my heart, constricting it and threatening to smash it into pieces. Y/N... Was she...? Was she my mate...?? Is that why this hurts, why it feels like someone has taken a million sharp razor blades and plunged every single one of them deep within my heart, where it counts?
"Why now? Why reveal this to me now, when I cannot do a damn thing about it? Where is the justice in that, where is the morality in it?" I growl, looking up at the heavens and silently swearing at any and every one of the gods I believe in. This doesn't feel fair, not at all. I was right earlier, when I was bathing Y/N. I don't think I'll ever be able to completely forgive Alec for what he did today, especially not now, knowing what I know.
I slowly get to my feet, wiping away my tears on the back of my hand. Blowing one last kiss to Y/N's grave, I turn and begin heading back towards the castle, back to an empty and cold life, a life where I would no longer hear Y/N's laughter ringing through the halls, or hear her singing in the shower in the mornings.
As I tug open the heavy wooden door and step inside, a new emotion fills me, one that's darker than what I'm used to. I can only hope that the Masters have decided on a punishment befitting of the damn witch twin. If it had been up to me after knowing what I do now, I would have shown far less mercy than they probably will.
I would not forget this day, not by a long shot. Eventually, if the time called for it, I would avenge Y/N's death... Guard or coven be damned. But for now, I could live with knowing that I have all the time in the world to plan it out, if I really needed to. Y/N's death would not be for nothing... I would make sure of it. Even if it killed me....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
• "piccolina" = "little one"
• "mia amore" = "my love"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: This was DARK. Like, really dark. I honestly had no idea I could portray Alec as someone this evil. 😱 (I'd like to see SM try and top this one, though. Wouldn't that be a treat?) 👌🏻 Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this one, and I deeply apologize if it was way too much to handle. 😅💝 Thanks, guys!
I'm in shock....I'm sad for Demetri, I don't know if you plan to write a part 2 for this, but at least I need the king's pov to this and their reactions to Demetri🥺.....girl you can't let me like this.
Hey everyone. I know tumblr is dead and everything but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to reach out.
It has come to my attention that user yasmineamaro on Wattpad has plagiarized my fic “Not What It Used To Be” on chapter 29 of their book “Possessive”
For reference, here are some side by side comparisons:
I have reached out to her to have it deleted, and instead of removing the story, she blocked me so I could no longer contact her.
To make matters worse, her book is published by the Lilac Publishing Company - meaning she has fully taken credit for my work and published it.
I have contacted Wattpad about the issue, however the chapter in which the plagiarism takes place was only deleted for an hour before yasmineamaro posted the chapter again.
I’m literally begging you to please share this with everyone and to report her account as well as her book. There’s a high probability someone else’s work is embedded in one of her chapters and no one has noticed yet.
This book is absolutely HUGE, as it amassed over 12.5 million reads the first time she posted it. Please take the time to look through it and make sure your work is not inside and that she has not illegally published any of your writing.
I obviously can’t take her to court, but if there’s anyway you guys can share this news and have her account terminated I will be eternally grateful.
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You are beauty, you are grace... And you are suddenly the main focus of one moody vampire's attention. When the one and only Alec Volturi finds himself falling for you after attending one of your ballet recitals, will he allow himself to be open to the idea of having a human for a mate? Or is it doomed to be a tragedy in the making...?
"I still don't know why you dragged me into this, dear sister." I grumble, taking a seat on the velvet-upholstered bench. "Because it's art, and you owe me, dear brother!" Jane hisses back, throwing a dark sideways glance at me. Her tone is almost condescending, and I clench my jaw to hold back the growl building up in the back of my throat.
Resigned for the moment, I turn my attention down to the front of the massive room, a bored sigh escaping me as I begin to count the individual strings of fringe hanging from the heavy upholstered curtains bordering either side of the stage. As the lights dim, I let out another quiet grumble, shifting in my seat. "This is going to be a long night..." my thoughts sigh impatiently at me.
Almost immediately, music begins to filter down from the speakers around the room, a bit of urgency in the surrounding notes. I watch as one by one, all the dancers step out onto the stage. Right as I'm about to let Jane know just how mind-numbingly irritated and bored I am, one of the dancers catches my eye.
There's something about the way she carries herself, something so vastly different compared to her peers. While her companions are visibly nervous, their movements almost halted, this girl... This girl carries herself with so much poise and confidence and self-assurance. Any previous boredom rapidly dies down in me as I subtly lean forward, my gaze focused on the girl in white, the one who's unknowingly caught my attention.
She takes the lead in center stage, her movements calculated and yet relaxed at the same time, her elegant limbs working in unison to create an effortless, fluid synchronicity. I watch with growing interest as she carries herself in leaps and bounds across the stage, the other dancers trailing behind her and looking like mere ducklings mindlessly following after a swan.
Her feet point perfectly down towards the stage, the white satin ballet slippers an almost blinding contrast against the dark finish of the wooden planks. As she turns to weave between the other dancers, one of them stumbles a little, almost catching the pretty girl in white off guard.
To my own surprise, I hear a quiet hiss slip out between my teeth as I lean forward, and Jane elbows me in the ribs. I glance over at her, and she shoots me a questioning look, but I merely shake my head at her, returning my gaze down to the stage again. My thoughts are a mess as I stare down at the girl, my emotions beginning to get the better of me.
Why can I not take my eyes off this... This human..?! Why has she so effortlessly swept me up and held me captive like this?? I swallow hard as the music suddenly dies down, thunderous applause now surrounding us on all sides. Even my sister, who hates humans as much as I do, is sitting there applauding the performance.
In the dim light of the huge theater, she turns to me with a raised eyebrow. "Still hating me for this?" she whispers. Reluctantly, I shake my head no, swallowing hard again as my gaze shifts down to center stage. A slightly older man with hair that's just beginning to turn gray at the edges steps out onto the stage, a wide smile on his face as he claps along with the audience.
"Weren't our girls simply wonderful? And now... For our annual holiday performance! I hope you all will enjoy this as much as we do!" he calls out, his French-accented voice echoing down from the overhead speakers. As he takes his leave, the dancers all line up along the stage, the overhead lights dimming and bathing the performers in a soft blue hue.
As the dancer in white approaches center stage, she looks up then, her gaze sweeping over the audience. Her steps suddenly falter a little as her eyes meet mine, and I feel a cold shock go through me, my hands clutching tightly onto the gold railing of our balcony as I lean forward. Her mouth opens slightly, and I can see her chest rapidly rise and fall several times, like she's trying to catch her breath.
Within moments, she manages to compose herself again, and she almost reluctantly tears her gaze away from mine to stare down at the ground, her arms lifting gracefully from her sides as new music begins to filter down through the speakers. I recognize the tune instantly, and one corner of my mouth turns up in a slight smile as I watch the girl. It's a modern rendition of Carol of the Bells... How utterly fitting.
With a visible exhale, the girl glances up at me one more time before turning and beginning to leap across the stage, her feet landing softly atop the wooden planks, barely making any sound. Her movements are completely in tune with the beat of the music, and I find myself scooting towards the edge of my seat, my gaze lazer-focused on the entire performance.
All of the other dancers are just mere blurs of color on the stage, utterly paling in comparison to this graceful being who has so easily captured both my attention and my heart, all at once. The startling realization sends my thoughts into yet another hurricane-force spiral in my mind, and my fists involuntarily clench tighter onto the gold railing in front of me.
I hear the faintest groan of the metal as it buckles beneath my fingers, and I can feel my sister's gaze trained on me for a moment, before she looks away. With trembling hands, I let go of the railing and clench my jaw against the raw emotions tugging at my insides, my fingers clasped together in an effort to contain myself.
The dancer down below meets my eyes again, and I could swear I see her smirk, before she turns and spins dizzyingly close to one of the other dancers, her feet pointed down and her back arched ever so slightly. Her eyes meet mine one more time, and my earlier suspicions are confirmed: she was smirking at me!
I shift in my seat, my fingers clenching tighter in my lap as I hold my head high, determined not to let one mere human affect me like this. "Brother." Jane's whispered voice at my ear startles me, making me jump a little. I turn and regard her with an annoyed frown, raising one eyebrow in a silent question. She glances down at the stage, her attention held for a few seconds, before looking at me again.
"If you really want to leave, then just go. But be quiet about it." she whispers, rolling her eyes at me. I shake my head at her, my jaw tense. "I think I'll stay, actually." I whisper back, ignoring the arch of her brows as her eyes widen in surprise. Instead, I focus my attention back on the human girl, though my fingers remain clasped in my lap.
If she really thought she could send my emotions into a chaotic whirlwind like this, she was wrong. It was wrong to fall for a human; everyone in our coven knew that. And yet... No. I can't. I shouldn't even allow myself to entertain the idea, it was far too dangerous. The thought of "What if...?" continues to nag at the back of my mind as I sit there, silently waging a war with myself in the dark theater. Would it really be so wrong...?
🎀 READER'S POV 🎀
You complete the final move of your performance, the grand jeté, the one big leap you've been striving towards this whole year. Ever so softly, your feet land gracefully back on the stage, and you stand there for a moment, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you try to calm your racing heart. A smile of exhilaration rests upon your face, the sound of thunderous applause quickly filling the huge theater.
As you take a bow with all of the other dancers, you glance up towards that balcony seat, your eyes meeting those of the boy who caught your attention near the beginning of your recital. He's watching you with a look of awe and wonder on his face, his dark eyes wide.
Your smile gets bigger as you stare at the boy, and you notice one corner of his mouth turn up in a smile of his own, before he turns to face the blonde girl next to him, saying something to her. You look away, regarding the audience in front of you with one last smile, before you and all the other dancers slowly file off the stage, back toward the dressing rooms.
The whole time, your thoughts are preoccupied with images of the boy's face, the boy who captured your attention. He seemed so enthralled by your every move, and before you can stop it, you find yourself blushing deeply. Who was this boy, and why did he cause this big of a reaction in you...??
》》 TWO HOURS LATER 《《
👿ALEC'S POV 👿
"Oh, my god. You really are serious about this. Aren't you?" she says in a low whisper, her E/C eyes round with shock, though they remain focused on the road ahead as she drives. Soft, muffled music frrom the car radio fills the space around us, the lyrics running together into a meaningless hum of noise, and rain drops pound steadily onto the roof of the car.
I don't answer for a moment, instead staring out through the rain-spattered windshield at the black ribbon of road speeding along in front of us. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her look at me, her mouth set in a grim line. "Eyes on the road, please...?" I trail off, realizing with a start that I don't know this girl's name.
She scoffs once, turning her attention forward again. "Y/N. And why should you be worried? If what you say is true, you'll walk out of any accident alive." she mutters, her voice sullen. I turn to stare at her with slightly panicked eyes, my mouth pulled down in a pained frown. "It's not me I'm worried about. It's you." I whisper, loud enough for her to hear me.
She nearly stomps down on the brake then, and the car shudders around us, before resuming its steady pace. "What?" she whispers, her voice trembling and no longer frustrated. I nod, my fingers toying with one of the buttons on my black coat as I sit there in silence for a moment. When I speak again, my voice is just as unsteady as hers.
"Tell me you didn't feel what I did, back there." I say quietly. She doesn't agree with me, but she doesn't make any objections, either. When I glance at her face, her side profile is bathed in a soft blue glow from the lights on the dashboard, and I see her jaw is tense. "I don't know what I felt." she finally says, her voice nearly inaudible.
I scoff, shifting in my seat to fully face her, my heart wrenching painfully in my chest. "Bullshit!" I protest, ignoring the sharp look she gives me. "You can't tell me you didn't feel the same way I did, that it wasn't like we were the only two people in that theater! I know what I felt, and I know you felt it, too! I could see it in your eyes when I watched you!" I continue, my voice rising slightly in my desperation.
Her jaw tenses again, and she throws another sharp look my way. "Alright, what if I did feel something? It's not like it matters anyway, you're with that blonde girl!" she protests, pain in her voice. Wait... Does she seriously think-? "You mean my sister? Jane?" I ask, incredulous. Her foot catches on the brake again, and we're both slammed against our seatbelts, before the car resumes normal speed.
"W-what? You mean she's not your-?" she can't even finish the sentence. I shake my head at her, a tiny smirk pulling up one side of my mouth, in spite of myself. "No! She's my sister, our bond is strictly familial." I answer, amused. Y/N glances over at me, her face a mixture of embarrassment and guilt, now.
"Sorry. I just thought... Never mind. Wait, so before, what you were telling me about your... Well, about you guys having mates, is that...? Are we...?" she trails off, raising one eyebrow in the dim light. I nod, relaxing back in my seat.
"Yes. At least that's what I'm suspecting. I'd have to ask Marcus about it when I return home. He's the one I spoke about earlier. I'm... I'm kind of hoping that maybe you'll come with me...?" I say, phrasing the last part as a question. Y/N sits in silence for a few moments, as she pulls the car to a stop in front of a small, nondescript house.
She turns the key, cutting the engine, before turning to me with wide eyes. "You... Want me... to come home with you? To... To Italy?" she asks slowly. Spoken aloud, I now hear just how unbelievable all of this must be to her. I nod again, reaching across the space between us to take her hands in mine. She doesn't even flinch at the difference in our body temperatures, her eyes never leaving my face. Outside, I can hear the rain getting heavier.
"Yes. Come with me, see my home. I promise you, if... If you don't like what you see, if you don't want to stay with me and the others, you... You can leave." I tell her softly. I know even as I say the words that it would most likely kill a part of me if she did leave. She swallows hard, and I can hear the quiet thump of her heartbeat in the silence between us.
"Would you... Would you eventually have to turn me, to make me... What you are?" she asks, her voice wavering a little. I nod, a rueful smile on my face. "Yes. But I can promise you that it won't hurt. Not even a little." I answer. This promise, I could keep, at least. Her eyes drop down to stare at our intertwined hands, and I can practically hear her thoughts.
"It's because of what you can do, isn't it?" she says quietly. I nod, my thumbs absentmindedly tracing soothing circles along the backs of her hands. "Do you trust me?" I whisper. The look in her eyes then is almost enough to break me, and I can hear her audible swallow, along with the faint skip of her heartbeat. But to my complete surprise, she nods.
"I think... Maybe I trust you more than I should, more than what's good for me." she admits, her voice a soft murmur in the quiet car. A rueful laugh tumbles out from between my lips, and I give her hands a reassuring squeeze. "You can trust me, I promise." I tell her. That's the third promise I've made tonight; how many of them would I actually be able to keep?
Letting go of her hands, I calm my nerves and focus, closing my eyes. I don't think I could bear to see the expression on her face when she sees the full extent of what I am. It's not long before I feel that familiar itch in the palms of my hands, the irritating sensation quickly becoming a more pleasant tingle as my dark, numbing mist presents itself to Y/N.
Her faint gasp is the only warning I get before her hands suddenly grab at mine, almost like she's trying to stifle the mist, to choke it out. My eyes fly open, just in time to see her own eyes glaze over, the irises turning a filmy E/C color, like she's losing her vision. Hell, she probably has lost her vision!
"What-?" she starts to ask, her voice panicked, but I quickly shush her, carefully disentangling her hands from mine so the mist no longer touches her. Incredibly, I watch as her eye color returns to normal, her wide-eyed gaze locking on my calm one. "You- What- How-?" she starts, unable to form coherent sentences.
I offer her a reassuring smile, letting the mist retract back into the palms of my hands. "Now you see what I meant. You won't be able to feel or see a thing. I can take away all of your other senses, too. Although if you'd like, I'll leave you with your hearing, in case you need my voice to keep you calm." I say softly.
"But you don't have anything to worry about. My family, they're... They'll understand. If you wanted a few more years of humanity, they won't contest it. They know better than to tell me no." I quickly add, with another rueful smile. Y/N looks down at her hands for a second, an unfamiliar emotion clouding over her eyes, before she looks up at me again.
"Take me home." she says quietly, reaching across to place her hands in mine once more. My brow furrows in confusion, as I nod out the front windshield. "I thought we were...?" I ask, but she shakes her head at me. "Italy, um...?" she trails off, raising an eyebrow at me.
I realize with complete embarrassment that not once have I thought to tell her my name, and if I would've still been human, my face would have flamed red in that instant. "Alec." I say helpfully, albeit rather abashedly. "Alec." she repeats, letting the two syllables flow effortlessly off her tongue. Fuck, the way she says my name...!
It sends a little thrill through me, and I fight to keep my composure. "So... You really want to come home with me?" I ask slowly. Y/N nods, offering me a tiny smile. "What about the theater? How will you explain that, I mean... You'll be giving up a lot, here." I add. She laughs, the sound almost breathless in its ease.
"Alec. Tonight was our final recital. If anybody asks, I can tell them I got an offer from a school up in Florence." she answers. "They have schools out there, right?" she adds, giving me a sideways glance. I nod, unable to keep a smile from spreading across my face.
"There's a really good fine arts school only an hour's drive away from Volterra. I wouldn't mind driving you out there myself every day, if you wanted." I tell her. She smiles back at me, a faint twinkle in her eyes. "Italy?" she whispers, giving my hands a squeeze.
"Italy, sweet face." I whisper back, grinning at her in the dim light of the car. This was going to be entirely new for the both of us, but I had a feeling it would also be the best thing to happen to the two of us. Time would only tell, right...?
》》 ONE YEAR LATER 《《
🎀 READER'S POV 🎀
You skip down the hall, a big smile on your face as you fight to keep from breaking into a run. But once those familiar wooden doors come into sight, you can't help it; you full-on sprint towards them, tugging them open and bounding out into the sunny courtyard. Your eyes search for Alec among the group of vampires, all of them with their skin shimmering and glinting in the sunlight.
That had taken you by surprise the first time you'd witnessed it, but now it brought a smile to your face every time you saw it. As you look around the courtyard, you spy Alec sitting on the edge of the fountain, chatting animatedly with his sister, Jane. Almost like he can feel someone watching him, he looks up then, his eyes meeting yours.
A smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth as he gives you a friendly wave, beckoning you over towards him. You happily comply, your heart beating wildly in your chest. "Hi, sweet face, I missed you. Come here." he says, patting the spot beside him. You choose instead to sit on his lap, facing Jane and hooking your arms around Alec's shoulders.
"I missed you, too." you say, leaning down to softly kiss the spot below Alec's ear. You close your eyes, breathing in his comforting scent, before lifting your head to look your mate in the eyes. "I have some exciting news to share... Guess who just got asked to dance in the next winter recital?" you ask, barely able to contain your excitement. Alec's eyes widen, as he raises a brow at you.
You nod, a wide grin spreading across your face. "Me! And guess where it's being held? Here, at the castle! I didn't think they would let me, but they did. Both Aro and Marcus thought that it would be a good idea to try something a little different this year, to... Oh, how did Aro put it? To... To 'indulge in the fine arts, my dear'." you tell him, trying your best to do an imitation of the Volturi leader's voice.
Alec laughs at your poor impression of Aro, as he wraps his arms around you and gently kisses the side of your neck. "Such a clever girl I have. Well done, my little Y/N." he murmurs, pride in his voice. You rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes and letting the sunlight warm your face.
Even from behind your closed eyelids, you can still see faint dots from the rainbow prisms reflecting off Alec's skin as the sunlight hits it. A shadow suddenly falls over your lids, and a moment later, you can feel Alec's cool breath on your face. "You have no idea how happy I am to have you here by my side, my tiny dancer. I love you, mia amore." he breathes, his voice a mere whisper.
Your heart dances a few staccato beats in your chest as you snuggle closer to the vampire, a smile lifting one corner of your mouth. You didn't think you could ever get tired of hearing this beautiful boy profess his love for you. The thought that someone of his kind could love a mere human like you... It was incredible.
"I love you too, A." you say softly, tilting your head up to kiss a spot on his jawline. This, this right here... Maybe this was where you were meant to be. Not in some fancy dance school up in Paris or Switzerland, but right here... Held safely in the loving arms of your vampire, your mate... Surrounded by his family... Your family.
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• "mia amore" = "my love"
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A/N: Sorry if this one was a little long; I knew I wanted to do a bit of a heartfelt piece for Alec, since I've been giving you all a lot of Demetri, lately. 😅 Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this one as much as I did! Thanks for sticking with me! 💝💝💝