Hi!! I'm Conjira. I'm a writer who's into horror and witchy media. But I do enjoy other genres from time to time!
I decided to get on here and write for dead spaces in fandoms and characters who get little to no love, because I needed more media myself and simply because I wanted to add fun in my life lol. But my writing does take time because my inspiration tends to fluctuate, so bear with me.
☆ I write x readers and OCs!
☆ I DO NOT use AI!
☆ I am a BIPOC friendly blog (because I'm black as well) so everyone will be able to imagine themselves into my x reader works (or make y/n your own, iykyk). Sometimes I'll just do Black!reader though if I feel it necessary to the story.
☆ My Masterlists are available below:
TV & Movies
Games & Visual Novels
I think that's all I got for now, but feel free to recommend anything else in my asks! Also, if you haven't seen any of these movies, shows, or games I'd encourage you to check them out!
☆ REMEMBER to be kind and respectful on my page. I will not allow anything otherwise.
☆ I will also not write anything I'm uncomfortable with (such as incest/step-incest, cnc/noncon, etc.). There may be some suggestive themes and sexual content. There will also be slight gore and violence (especially if we're dealing with supernatural creatures). There will always be warnings in the beginnings of my work!
ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: Returning to Forks, possessing a newfound secret about your lineage, proved to be more difficult than you could've imagined. No one knew you anymore. He didn't know you at all. Part of you wanted it to keep it that way.
ɢᴇɴʀᴇ(ꜱ): Strangers to lovers, not really slowburn, but not too fast-paced, angsty, shifter x witch, kind of thriller-ish (it is a little dark ngl)
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: eventual smut (will be included in future chapters), mentions of blood/gore, mentions of violence, mentions of death and descriptions of death, mentions of harassment and traumatic experiences
ᴡᴄ: 2039
ᴀ/ɴ: Embry needs more love, so here's my contribution to the cause! Thought this type of story would be interesting with him, because I could see him fascinated by a mysterious witch. Also, all the employees at the restaurant reader works at is completely made up!
One
With a new set of eyes, you nearly couldn't imagine yourself here again. Living within the grey curtain that stretched to each corner of your small, childhood town. Even during spring and summer, the sun didn't shine its brightest.
Perhaps, you surmised, the way you saw the town only reflected the things that were hidden from you. You lived in the grey, because you lacked the knowledge you'd just recently came to know.
"You were never imagining it, sweetheart. You have a gift living inside of you," your mother confessed, nothing short of guilt residing in her eyes. The guilt, you assumed, was from her continuously shutting you down many years before about the premonitions that constantly came to you in dreams. She did a wonderful job convincing you that you were insane at one point, because you saw things that "weren't" there. Felt things that no other could feel; like the energy of wind buzzing upon your palms. She even denied the pendant you wore as a necklace at one point, claiming that it was ridiculous to put the intention of protection in an inanimate object.
Yet, it worked every single time. Especially that time you'd nearly died.
It happened at a random party after graduating. You associated yourself with people that you thought were going to be your friends for life. They'd been with you throughout middle to high school, so of course you thought that they wouldn't ever do you wrong.
However, that night, one by one, they all seemed to disappear. Next thing you knew, it was only you and a group of guys you barely knew.
They followed you around the crowded house, even when you told them many times that you had no interest with them.
They tried following you home, so you ran into the woods, hoping to lose them.
You remembered the sound of their footsteps chasing after you. The crunching against the woodchips and leaves. Then the pitter-patter against the pavement when you darted across the street. Midway, vibrant white lights and a horn consumed your senses. You thought this was the end for you, and acceptance came much quicker than you expected.
But then, you found yourself staring down at the body of one of the guys—crushed beneath the weight of the urgent car. You saw blood oozing out from underneath him. It just missed you. So did he.
You disappeared from the scene before the other guys could notice, gripping the buzzing-hot pendant like a crucifix.
For your mother to deny you of your power up until that moment you returned from that hellish night, you couldn't help but reserve a bit of resentment for her. She could have taught you many things all this time, instead of allowing you to flail around helplessly until you could manage saving yourself.
"It was dangerous! I didn't want to risk anyone else finding out! Who knows what would happen to us."
The next day, you found her packing up the house.
A few weeks later, you were back in Forks, in your old childhood home. You'd probably say it was for the best, considering you no longer had friends after the incident. You didn't keep in contact with the friends you did have before moving away from Forks, so the slate was completely clean.
You were rebirthed, essentially.
☾
"Have a good day at work! Don't stay out too late," your mother called after you, as you stepped off of the porch.
"Thanks. I won't." Your response came out much dryer than you intended. However, these days you found it hard to place much enthusiasm behind anything you said. Though you were "starting over," your mind wouldn't quite let you.
That night weighed heavily on your mind, and you didn't have a good enough escape.
Ding!
As you entered the back door of local restaurant, the hostess, Bianca, immediately greeted you with a tight-lipped smile. She seemed to be grabbing something from her bag, right before returning to her place at the front. You gave her a shy nod of acknowledgement as you made your way toward the staff room to clock-in.
"Hey, hey, y/n," an urgent, cheerful voice belonging to a fellow waitress reached you. Once you finished tying your apron, you looked up to see Tommie smiling at you. You didn't really speak to her often, but when you did, she treated you as if you were already the best of friends. "Do you mind taking over for me with table five? A big family just came in, and I've gotta get them settled."
You furrowed your eyebrows. "Sure, um—are you the only one on the floor right now?"
"Yep! It's kinda sucky to be honest."
You chuckled. "Where's Kendall? I thought he was supposed to be with you today."
"He called in sick."
You and Tommie shared a look after it was said.
'That man was not sick at all.'
"I'll take on table five for you, Tommie. It's no problem."
"Thank you soo much! I'll get you something as a token of my appreciation. I don't know what, but something." Before you could say anything else, she rushed out of the back vibrantly.
Taking in a deep breath, you followed in Tommie's trail toward the second to last booth by the window. There sat three black-haired guys; two seemingly around your age compared to the other, who may have been a bit older, and quite muscular. All of their attention immediately glued to you once you stood before them, taking out your pen and pad.
"Hi, how are you guys doing today? My name's y/n, and I'll be taking care of you while you're here." You glanced at their table. "I see that Tommie's already got you settled with your drinks. Are you ready to order or do you need more time?"
The three guys looked at each other, nodding and pointing at their menus.
"Uhh, yeah, I think we're ready," one of the guys with a soft gaze and a dimple in his chin said to you. The others busted into laughter, earning a glare from the dimpled guy.
"What a tone change, dude," the muscular one remarked, leaning over to take a straw into his mouth.
"Whatever. Fuck off." The dimpled guy chuckled bashfully, scratching the back of his neck.
He was cute.
Internally smiling, you jotted down their orders.
"Okay, great. I'll come back with refills shortly."
Throughout the night, you noticed his eyes following you everywhere you went. When you took over new tables, you found yourself glancing over to his, only to see those dreamy brown eyes avert from you like a game of eye-tag. You wouldn't completely admit it to yourself, but it was fun. Amusing, if you will. Even Tommie pointed out in passing how much you were grinning, when you assumed you weren't.
When the time came for their check and exit, a sort of dullness found you again. It was dark outside, and reality settled in.
"You know, I've never really seen you smile like that," Tommie said, watching as you moved around cleaning tables. "You don't really talk much, either."
You shrugged. "Today was a better day, I suppose."
There was a pause that hung in the air. You quickly noticed Tommie staring at your pendant. "It's pretty. Where did you get it?"
"Some metaphysical shop where I used to live."
"Is it special to you?"
"You could say that."
Tommie held up her wrist to show off a silver cuff with a Tiger's Eye stone nestled in the middle. "I wear this every day, too. But I got it from my grandma. It's like a piece of her is always with me."
You nodded. "She definitely is."
"You're pretty cool, y/n," Tommie said.
"Glad you think so," you chuckled. "You're pretty cool as well, Tommie."
It went unspoken, but you could see yourself being friends with her. She didn't seem pushy like your old friends were. She gave you space, allowing you room to warm up to her. There was a light air you felt when speaking to Tommie. It was much different than the sense of dread that you never previously classified when it came to your betrayers.
The time to get home rolled around seconds later, as you left the restaurant through the back door. The moonlight was bright, and a significant chill nipped at your skin, prompting you to tug your jacket closer to your body.
A familiar laughter reached your ears as you rounded the corner to walk past the front of the restaurant. Three heads of black hair immediately turned your way.
He was there.
"Oh, hey! You were our waitress, right?"
"Yep. That's me," you told him, a bit quiet.
The dimpled guy tilted his head. "What was your name, again?"
You stared at him for a moment.
Oh, he remembered your name. You reminded him anyway, playing into whatever game he entertained.
"I don't think I got yours," you told him. Your eyes flickered to his smirking friends. "Or theirs."
"I'm Embry. These are my friends, Paul and Quil." He nodded his head towards each of them.
"The food was delicious, by the way," Paul chirped.
"Well, I'll be sure to let the cooks know. Was it your first time here?"
"In a long time," said Embry. "We hadn't been here since middle school. I'd say the food was a little nostalgic."
You hummed. "Well I'm glad that your experience was nice. I would agree that this place was nostalgic, but I've only been here once when I was a kid."
"I mean, you did look a little familiar. But I don't think we've ever talked," said Quil.
"Well, if I seem familiar, then you probably saw me before I moved away. I don't think I look too different from back then." Usually, you didn't share this much with strangers, but there was a certain comfort level you reached with these guys. They seemed laid back and were all ears for you.
"Where did you move to?" Embry asked.
"Some town in Georgia. Definitely a lot more people than here."
"Nice! Why did you move back, then?"
Hesitation came. "My, uh, mom. She wanted to go back to the roots, and the roots are right here in Forks."
Embry hummed, his eyes running all over your face as if he could uncover something right then and there. "Are you happy to be back?"
'I am now.'
You cleared your throat, pushing the thought away. "You could say that. It's been a few weeks, but I'm figuring some things out for myself here."
"Cool, cool." Silence hung in the air between the two of you, as you continued to stare at each other. "Well, it was nice meeting you, y/n. We won't keep ya."
"Oh, yeah." You blinked rapidly. "I gotta head home. It was nice meeting you guys. See you around."
"Don't be surprised if he comes back tomorrow!" Paul called after you, triggering Quil to laugh along with him.
☾
You sighed, closing the side door of your home behind you.
"Hey! How was your shift?" your mom asked as you slipped off your shoes.
It was basically the equivalent of asking how school was. She'd get a "good" even if it was or wasn't. You knew it well in your heart that your mom was trying her hardest to make up for her mistakes, knowing that she hardly cared before. However, it was blaringly obvious and excessive.
"It was fine, Mom," you told her. "I'm gonna shower and go to bed, so...goodnight."
"Did you eat at all?"
You paused in front of the entrance of the hallway. "If I get hungry, I'll make something."
"There's still some spaghetti left over. You can have some of that before it goes bad."
It was small, but it still pissed you off a little.
'I'm tired of that damn spaghetti.'
"Okay, Mom."
You began walking again.
"Y/n, are you really okay?"
"I'm fine, Mom!"
A loud cracking sound rushed through the house. You slowly turned your head downward to look at the rug beside your feet.
It's literally the way I have so many ideas with so many fixations rn. I'm now thinking of writing a mini series with Embry Call and a witch reader that's kind of TVD Bonnie coded. I think it would be cute and interesting!
My first Guy Thwarte fic is en route! I was inspired to make a past lives type of thing after I couldn't think of any good tropes for the 1870s timeline (though I'm still brainstorming for that).
OK, so I recently got into watching The Buccaneers (it's so good!) 👀 Little did I know, I'd have a Matthew Broome fixation almost immediately. I need to hop on the fic train asap for him, because there's just not enough rn 😩 (might also get into My Fault London for him)
ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: Lottie and Y/N used to be the best of friends in their childhood, up until high school's trials and tribulations came to cut them apart. Now that senior year is almost over, a yearning for old times and something much deeper arises between the two.
ɢᴇɴʀᴇ(ꜱ): slowburn-ish, childhood friends to lovers (but they weren't talking for some time), kind of supernatural/spiritual
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: angst, mentions of smoking and drinking, mentions of blood
ᴡᴄ: 2276
ᴀ/ɴ: A little flashback in the beginning. Jackie feature.
TWO
಄
"I've never seen the moon this bright before," you said, staring up at the dark sky that displayed the enchanting blue moon before you and Lottie.
The pair of you were nearly intertwined with the tree branches of the big oak that lived in your backyard, sitting in comfortable silence. The times you spent with her back then didn't consist nearly as much of things like this—rather watching 'Creepshow' for the nth time, taking turns listening to your favorite songs, or asking each other random questions.
"Would you ever live in the universe of your last dream?"
"Which of the five senses would you be alright with losing?"
"When's the last time you screamed at the top of your lungs?"
One could say that you two were a little boring, to say the least, but that's the honest factor of what made you fit for each other. Those days, she wasn't so worried about being liked. She wasn't worried about what people said about your friendship. And neither were you.
"I never thought a floating rock could be so pretty," said Lottie. Her shimmering eyes, which contrasted with the darkness flickered to you. To this day, you still didn't know exactly why your stomach fluttered when it happened. The way your skin grew warm, and a slight smile tugging at the corner of your mouth was far from a typical reaction to her.
"Well, the moon is more than a rock, Lottie," you told her, clearing your throat. "She's a beautiful force, whether you know it or not."
She hummed. "Yeah. I guess I can see that."
Though change would forevermore be inevitable, why did it feel like the lightning of divine intervention was striking you down? That night, you could feel it all, even when experiencing the showcase of the full moon together. To you, looking back at it, the moon was speaking to you—saying that there was something you were not yet willing to accept.
Something that was coming to a close.
಄
Tonight was the night.
Lottie's party.
When Taissa pulled up to the curb out front of the girl's house, the past seemed to come rushing back. You managed to suppress the churning sensation in your stomach, though it was quite strong. Nearly strong enough to overtake your entire being.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Taissa asked, watching as you pulled out your compact mirror to fix your lip combo. "Because we can turn right back around if you say the words."
"No. It's fine," you told her, snapping the mirror shut. "I was invited. I'm here to pay my respects."
And to obtain closure.
You looked over at Taissa to see that her eyebrows were raised, concerned. "Alright. I'm just saying, you can always stick with me if you feel uncomfortable. Even if you wander off, come and find me, yeah?"
"Yeah. Thanks, Tai."
When walking up to the door, you were completely expecting Lottie to open it and greet the two of you. You didn't know what she'd be wearing, but you expected it to be something nice. Like always. Even back then, she had a good fashion sense that was just so...
Lottie.
"Hey!" Instead, a girl with brown hair and a seemingly resting pout that complimented her wide eyes greeted you on the other side. Her smile was bright and kind. This girl seemed very familiar to you, but you could not seem to place it. Nonetheless, it seemed like she knew Taissa quite well, because her expression seemed to glisten with recognition. "Tai! You're here!"
"Hey, Jackie! I didn't know you'd be here."
Ah, yes. Jackie Taylor.
Taissa hadn't properly introduced the two of you, but you knew that she was the soccer captain. Her name always carried through the air of the halls, never lacking a note of jealousy behind what others masked as praise. You never truly listened to whatever rumors or gossip spread around the school, because you minded your business. You saw no point, and got no gratification from stirring the pot. Why, when it had absolutely nothing to do with you?
Besides, she seemed like a sweet girl, at least cordially. When Taissa finally introduced you to her, she was intrigued by you. Enthusiasm rushed through her body as she took you by the hand and sat you in an empty space on the couch.
"Apparently, Tai has done a good job of hiding you away. Where have you been all this time?" At this, you could hear a small scoff from Taissa, as she stood beside your place on the end of the couch.
"I've been...around," you laughed. "I don't think we have any classes together. You wouldn't know my face."
"Okay. So where would I find you, other than class?" Jackie hummed curiously.
You shrugged. "Maybe the library. Or the orchestra room. I'm not in that class anymore, but, uh...I visit. Sometimes."
"Yeah, she used to play cello," Taissa chimed in. "She aced every performance, too." You rolled your eyes, yet internally you knew she was telling the truth. You never thought it was a lie, after all that practicing.
The elaborate sequences of notes that chased after another.
The musk of the resin filling your nose as you polished your bow.
The bloody, chipped nails that told of your passion.
Yes, you did miss it.
"Aw. Why'd you quit?" Jackie's question, though expected and simple, took your mind back to that place.
Back to her.
"I just—" you shook you head. "Fell out of love with it, I guess."
When you looked up from your lap, it seemed as if the universe was taunting you. Your eyes immediately latched to Lottie's, as she stood by the doorframe that led to another, much more crowded, living room. In one hand, she held a red solo cup, and a fresh cigarette that had yet to be lit.
Lottie slowly approached the group you were in, a tight-lipped smile finding her face. "You guys made it. Thanks for coming." She intended for the message to reach you and Taissa, but the way her eyes refused to leave you caused it to be much more personal.
You mirrored Lottie's distant smile. "Thanks for inviting me."
There was a beat of silence between everyone despite the muffled music playing from outside, paired with the overlapping conversations from the guests.
"It's getting a little warm in here, isn't it?" Jackie chuckled, shifting around in her seat. Not a second later, she decided to stand up. "I think I'll step out for a little and get some air. It was nice meeting you, y/n!" Then, she was gone.
The silence returned a moment more, leaving you in a state of anxious anticipation. You could practically hear your own heartbeat resounding in the depths of your ear like little drums.
Ba—dum. Ba—dum. Ba—dum.
"Tai, can I steal her for a second?"
There it was.
The question you were, unknowingly, waiting for.
You glanced up at Taissa, only to be met with a small shrug. 'it's up to you,' is what you would have heard from her if you had the power to read minds.
Sighing, you blinked away and met Lottie's soft gaze again. "Let's go, then."
⭑.ᐟ ═══════ ⭑.ᐟ
The walk up to her room was like a trip down memory lane. As much as Lottie had been at your house, there's been a few times you could count on your hand that you've been to hers. And those times were mostly when her parents were away—either working or at business dinners.
You'd almost convinced yourself that you've never gotten the chance to interact with her parents because of how often they were gone, but that would be a lie. There were moments, early on in your friendship, where they'd give you a slight nod of the head and ask how you are. Nothing more, though.
When Lottie opened up the door to her large bedroom, you noted that it had a definite change over the years. It was less pink than it used to be, however it did not lack the pastel pallet that seemed to remain the entire duration of knowing her. There were accents of a light blue scattered from the walls to the fluffy pillows on her bed, joint with the shy hint of vanilla bean.
"You can sit down, if you want," Lottie said, gesturing to the cushioned bench at the foot of her bed.
Without a word, you went and sat there—as stiff and awkward as ever. You could sense the subtle confusion she had, one of probable assumption, as took herself back to familiarity with you. Time was simply a concept for her, though it was blaringly evident that it was one-sided.
Once Lottie shut the door, it was just you and her.
Alone.
The girl took her place at the cluttered desk at the corner of the room, placing her cup and cigarette on an empty spot. She turned her chair to place her full attention on you, though you refused to even look at her out of the corner of your eye.
There was a painful sigh that drew itself out of her. "How...did we ever get here, y/n?"
You weren't sure if you liked the way her name rolled off her tongue. It invoked an unwilling shiver to run across your skin.
"Have you not asked yourself that question before, Lottie?" your words were softer than the previous time you spoke. No more did you hold an impossible amount of anger towards her obliviousness. Instead, you couldn't help but be a little sad, rather than wishing you felt absolutely nothing.
"I have. Many times. But I still don't seem to understand it," she shook her head. "You and I were just...so close. Sure, I got busy and branched out a bit. You did as well. But I figured nothing as small as growing apart would shake us."
"Like I told you, it's more than that," you insisted, now turning your body to face her.
"Then, can you explain it to me?"
"A whole lot. Yes, you're right, we both got busy—all wrapped up in our interests and figuring out what we wanted to become. But I felt like I was still trying to keep what we had, while you, over time, placed more and more weight inside my hands. Right until it was just me carrying the load." You noticed the quiver in your voice as you spoke. "And it really surprised me because you—we—promised, that we wouldn't ever replace each other. That we would always remain the best of friends. But that's clearly not how it was supposed to go for us." Lottie's mouth opened up to speak, but you continued. "I became non-existent to you, Lottie! I felt like you were avoiding me for quite a while. Almost like I did something bad to you. And yes, I sat at home, several nights wondering about my shortcomings because you wouldn't own up and say a goddamn word about it to me."
Bewildered. That's the expression Lottie wore when she processed what you were telling her.
"It's shocking to me that you don't even fucking remember! How wrapped up in yourself do you have to be to exude this level of confusion?" You practically spoke too soon about not feeling anymore anger, because just like that, it returned.
"I—I'm really sorry. Really, I am." You thought that was all she was capable of saying, until you could see the gears turning inside her head. "I think you just enlightened me, actually. I...didn't know I was doing that, even though it was obvious that I was. Clearly I was in a completely different mindset." She laughed dryly. "None of it was your fault. You didn't do anything wrong—you could never. It was all me."
"But why?"
"I think that..." she paused. "I was focusing on the wrong things."
When she didn't elaborate, you leaned your body forward. "What do you mean?"
"I wasn't planning to tell you this, but I think I was going through something. I think I still am, to be honest." She exhaled. "I don't think I was sure what I wanted. From myself. From anyone else. And I was trying to figure that out all on my own. That's why I found new friends, got into new, different things to see what made me feel good. None of it really helped, necessarily, because I knew something was off. But I couldn't figure out what. I wondered if it was the particular people I surrounded myself with. The particular hobbies I picked up. But then one day, I woke up one morning, and realized something significant was missing. That something—or someone is you."
Your heart warmed at the words. "That's my point, though, Lottie. Why didn't you say anything?"
"I thought it was too late. Really, I did. And from the way you avoided looking at me, like you did a few moments ago, it didn't help much."
It was strange, but you could truly feel a weight being lifted off your shoulders. You felt much lighter, after all you'd been withholding was received and out in the open.
It was nice.
"So, what do you want to do now, Lottie?" you asked. "Do you still feel discouraged?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I understand if you don't want to be around me anymore. That's fine. I just wanted to make sure that we talked, at least."
"You're so quick to give up, aren't you?" Lottie's eyebrows raised at your words, but when she noticed you were smiling—genuinely smiling at her, the walls lowered significantly.
"So...uh, do you want to hang out tomorrow, then?"
ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: With your parents losing their jobs and your grandfather's passing, you drive back up to your childhood town in the Midwest the summer before college. While you realize there's nothing much to town, you meet a mysterious girl who opens the door of your fate to a darkened path.
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: blood, mentions of death, Lottie being kinda freaky towards the end (what's new?)
ᴡᴄ: approx. 2225
ᴀ/ɴ: Thought Lottie would fit this very well. I also thought of the book and movie Beautiful Creatures for this.
One
Never did you think you’d be returning to that old place.
That place holding absolutely no opportunities. No weight. Hardly any people since you’d last been. You weren’t even sure those friends of yours still lived by your grandfather’s place, those times you’d go and visit him for the summer. You wouldn’t doubt that they went off to live somewhere better—in those bustling cities. Those relaxed suburbs that still managed to have a lot going on.
Hell, that’s what you and your parents did.
At the bright age of eight, you witnessed the mere excitement plastered on your mother’s face for the first time, when she told you that you’d be moving into the city for her new job. The house was already halfway packed before she broke the news to you, so you were really no stranger to it. Your father's previous job was also less that satisfactory, so of course he was completely on board. But you? You were anxious. You didn’t want to leave and go someplace that wasn’t familiar—someplace so large that you could easily get lost in. The city intimidated you.
To your eventual surprise, the roles would be flipped onto their sides. You’d grown to love city life, and all the friends you’d made from elementary all through high school. Though you visited town during most summers, the idea of living in such a vacant area had become foreign to you. You weren’t even sure how you were able to love the place you were born with the city vision you’d fostered.
But now, you were packing up again and hitting the road up north.
A few years ago, it was no secret that your grandfather wasn’t doing so well. He slowly began to neglect the farmland. The weeds grew taller—some places browned by the scorching touch of death that would come round in the hot season. It was unfortunate, because that used to be his routine, tending and nurturing the land as if it were one of his children. You remembered being on that swing out front a lot of the times, only to see it covered by the spreading vines that made you itch when staring too long. The land, as well as your childhood was dying with your grandfather. It would do so until his very last breath.
That’s what ended up happening, right after your graduation.
Another unlucky thing was that your mother, and your father lost their main sources of income. The city was pushing you out, just as quickly as it was welcoming you in. The only way to salvage the family's sanity, was to move into your grandfather’s house and start all over again.
“It’s for the best, kiddo.”
“I get it.” And truthfully, you did.
You weren’t as frustrated with the situation as you’d thought you’d be when you pulled up to the old house. Sure, you were out of school now, and on your way to college (you hoped so). You only wished for a stable situation right before the fall, and though that didn't necessarily happen, how could you assume that this town didn’t change at all? It could have had some significant growth over time–with better jobs that could set you up real good if you played your cards right. There could be more people here than you said before, because it was summer. It was in a condition where people could truly enjoy the place for what it was. And you were open to it. You were more than willing to see this place through the eyes of your younger self again.
Through the eyes of your grandfather.
After helping your parents unpack most of your things, your father decided to get straight to work on the lawn. Settling yourself on the top stair of the porch, you watched him as he struggled to get the mower to turn on—cursing about and gritting his teeth. The buzzing sound of bugs and singing of little birds graced your ears, reminding you of the serenity you once loved. Pleased, you closed your eyes, relishing in the feeling of being able to sit outside and just exist.
✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲
Later in the afternoon, you decided to take a walk around town on your lonesome. That’s how you came across the familiar clearing that was right across PEARL’S, a worn-down diner you used to frequent. Curiously, you stepped your way through it, approaching another curtain of forestry that now possessed a wooden path. Your footsteps creaked along the old planks as you followed it toward a large, green creek. The first thing you imagined was yourself, at ten years old, sitting at the edge of the path with a few of your old friends. You allowed your legs to dangle right over the surface of the lazy water as you traced all kinds of shapes into the ripples with a long branch.
Smiling, you took another step forward, wanting to hold onto the vision just a little longer. Instead, it disappeared into thin air and was replaced with another sight.
A young woman staring at you.
Seemingly around your age, she sat with her legs crossed—her long brown hair cascading all the way down her back as ocean waves would. Her wide, brown eyes, reminding you of a deer’s, burned into you once she turned her head. You weren’t sure if she was surprised to see you, or if you simply disturbed her peace.
“Oh! Uh…hi. I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” you said to her, timidly. Carefully, you took a step backward.
She scanned you, running her eyes up and down your being. “Hi.” She turned her back to you. “You aren’t interrupting anything.” There was a long pause, which made you conclude that you had no other choice but to leave. So you turned your body the other way.
"Are you lost, or something?"
You stopped in your tracks, turning yourself back around. Now, the girl was standing on the planks facing you. She was tall—taller than you expected her to be.
“No. I was just…looking around,” you told her.
She tilted her head inquisitively. “Are you new here?”
“Kinda.” You shrugged. She then blinked, a bit puzzled by your answer. “I used to live here, when I was younger. I just recently moved back.”
“Oh.” A morsel of a smile tugged at her lips. “Well, welcome back.”
You squinted, taking a step-and-a-half closer to her. “We haven’t met before, have we?”
It was her turn to shrug. “I don’t think so. Does the name Lottie ring any bells?”
Lottie, huh? Hmm.
“I’m afraid not.” You shook your head. “But it’s nice to meet you, Lottie. I’m y/n.”
“Nice to meet you.” The words from her came out a little quieter, almost bashful.
“So, where are you from, then?”
Lottie’s brows furrowed at the question. “What do you mean?”
“Well, if I don’t remember you, you’ve gotta be from somewhere else, right?”
“Maybe.” You weren’t completely sure, but it almost sounded like she was teasing you.
Chuckling, you asked, “Why maybe?”
Smirking, she stared at you for a moment again. Only this time, it was entirely unreadable. “I actually moved here when I was younger. But I’ve always been around this area. This is all I’ve known.”
You nodded. “So, you’ve never really been out of town?”
“No.”
Humming, you shoved your hands in your back pockets, walking past her toward the creek. You could feel her trailing behind you a bit, being sure to keep a bit of a distance between the two of you. What for? You didn’t know. But you understood that you were technically still strangers.
That could be the explanation of why there was a sudden shift in energy when you conversed. Growing a little comfortable with one another, but still navigating how to approach each other. It was like walking on eggshells, to say the least, for the both of you. That’s why you found meeting new people quite difficult. Some people were less open than others. You knew that this Lottie girl was a good middle ground, yet there seemed to be an invisible barrier blocking what could be.
“Is it easier for you to stay here?” you questioned Lottie, following up with the reply she’d uttered out a minute ago.
“It’s more like...” she began. “I know what I’m expecting from here.”
“I get that. I used to feel the same way back then.” You sat yourself on the edge of the wooden planked path, allowing your feet to hang above the surface of the creek. Just like before. “I’m guessing you don’t like surprises, huh?”
“You could say that.”
“Noted.” At this, she let out a small laugh. It was a nice sound.
Lottie joined your side by the creek, drawing her legs up against her chest. “So what was it like? Wherever you were before?”
“Hectic. Fast-paced.” You picked up a small rock and tossed it into the water. “But I liked it for a moment. It made me feel like I was doing something with my life. Even though I clearly wasn’t doing much.”
She scoffed. “You probably did a lot more than I did. Here, I just ate, went to school, worked, went home, and repeat. That’s all you can do out here.”
Truthfully, you did quite a bit academically speaking. You were not popular in any way, but you were in the top ten for highest GPA. You also occupied yourself with at least three clubs, because you simply wanted to stay busy. You desired a sturdy base. Just in case there came a time where you had to list all the things you’d done to a shallow fool who actually gave a fuck. Of course, there were people who did more than you. Who were better than you. But you weren’t interested in competition, really. Just doing you.
You turned your head to look at her. Her eyes were forward, out into the creek–her chin resting atop her knees. “You don’t have any friends?”
“Not really.” Lottie turned her head, making you lock eyes for the nth time. “I have acquaintances. If that even counts. But really, I’m by myself a lot of the time.”
'I don't know why,' you thought. 'She’s really pretty.' Of course you knew that wasn’t a main reason to befriend someone. It shouldn’t be. But Lottie was hard to miss. You couldn’t quite find the right words to describe it yet, but you could just feel it. Right between the fibers of your soul.
“Well those people are missing out,” you told her. “I just met you, and I’m already enjoying myself.”
A light blush dusted across her cheeks at your words. “Oh. Well, thanks.” To avoid your eyes, she looked down at the heels of her shoes before asking another question. “So, why did you move back here?”
You paused, hesitant to answer. “My...grandfather passed away.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that.” She set her sight back onto you, placing a hand on your shoulder. Her touch was light—soft and comforting. The feeling made you shiver internally, which you hoped she didn’t notice if it happened to be visible on your face.
Why in the world were you acting like this?
“Thanks.” You cleared your throat. “Yeah, in addition to my parents losing their jobs, we just decided to move back here and basically start over. I’m fine with it though. I think my grandfather would have loved to see me again, in that house.”
“I’m sure he’s very glad you’re back." Though it was supposed to be a wholesome thing, there was something inside you that was put off by the comment. Almost anxious.
Was it the way she said it?
“Right. Thanks again." There was a prominent silence between the two of you once more, until it was interrupted by a growl.
A growl from your stomach.
“Are you hungry?”
“Probably,” you chuckled. “Hey do you want to go grab something with me at Pearl’s?”
Lottie hummed. “From across the street?” You nodded. “How about I take you somewhere better? It’s just around the corner.”
“Sure.”
Lottie got up from the wooden planks and turned her body to begin walking. You, gathering the energy to stand up, pressed your hands into the ground.
“Ow—FUCK!”
Something sharp stabbed the middle of your hand.
You were bleeding.
A lot.
“Oh gosh. What happened?” Lottie was already back at your side, taking your injured hand into hers to examine it. You winced in pain as she tilted it around. “Looks like a coffin nail snagged you there.”
“More than a snag,” you whimpered.
Lottie’s eyes caught yours again, pinning them in place. “Close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Just close them.”
You shot her a look of suspicion before doing as she said. What was it that was going through her head? What was she going to do? All these questions infiltrated your mind within a millisecond. Then they ceased when you felt something warm slowly dragging against your palm. Something wet.
“Lottie, what are you—”
And then, you saw it for yourself.
She was lapping up the blood from your wound like it was nothing. And you couldn’t find it in yourself to move away. You just watched, bewildered, as she worked to stop the bleeding with her saliva. After another second, she released your hand.
“What was all that?”
She stared at you, just like that moment from before when you found her expression unreadable. But from her hooded eyes, you noted that there was a subtle hunger in them. In those pupils that framed you beneath her.
“Ready to go?” Lottie blinked and the hunger was gone.
Just like that.
She helped you up on your feet, and began to guide you out of the woods.
ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: A night of fun dancing and music awaits you at Dorian Gray's manor, as you've been extended an invite by Vanessa Ives. Little did you know, the mysterious host takes interest in your intriguing, human design.
ɢᴇɴʀᴇ(ꜱ): romance, short story
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: a little sensual/suggestive (because it's Dorian), mentions of a dark past
"Would you mind accompanying me to Mr. Dorian Gray's gathering tonight?"
Before you could bother yourself with a response, Vanessa eased the parchment letter into your lace-gloved hand. Innocently, she gave you a tight-lipped smile and a bat of those long, dark lashes—that look you could never build up the courage to deny.
"Oh? I suppose?" Her arms were thrown around you in an immediate embrace, earning a small giggle from you. "But, Vanessa, I do not know this man very well. What could I possibly expect fro—"
"No need to worry, dearest friend. I have your dress and jewelry already sorted out. Check what's left at your porch."
At this, you raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? That was hasty."
She chuckled, nodding. "Sembene and Sir Malcom made sure of it. Now, be sure to stop by here around eight o'clock. I'll be waiting for you in the carriage."
As quickly as you arrived, the heavy door of the Malcom home shut behind you, punctuating the new plan for your evening.
It wasn't often that you were invited to these sorts of gatherings. You weren't expectant of it anyway, because not many people knew of you just yet. Fresh from the rural pastures of the American north, you'd just recently settled into a nice cottage in a bustling city of London. You weren't quite sure if this stay would be long or short-term, however you knew in your soul that you had an innate desire to explore the world—get away from all the familiar people of your past, the bloodshed that ran rampant, and the memories that turned to night terrors. That desire, after all, is what initially connected you to Sir Malcom and Vanessa in the first place. From the moment you left that docked boat, your eyes met the light ones of a middle-aged man who had, too, seen those terrors from his many expeditions.
Conversation budded between the two of you when he first approached you, and that was when he decided to invite you to his home. Of course, it was never sensible to put your complete trust in a stranger's hands. However, you did have a good feeling about this man—he seemed genuine and of a significant success. Besides, you hadn't had anywhere else to go right away, so why not get to know him better?
That's when Vanessa Ives came into the picture of your young life. At first, you assumed she was Sir Malcom's daughter because he spoke about her with such adoration. Once you learned that it wasn't quite the case, you began to hear a few stories that Vanessa was willing to share with you about their past together. As you listened, you felt an underlying tension, in the sense that there were some things that occurred that were hard to forgive.
Those things, you hadn't yet figured out.
•••
You hadn't realized you'd underestimated the popularity of Mr. Dorian Gray, until you saw the amount of people that crowded the foyer and the corridor leading to the ballroom. Your arm was looped through Vanessa's as she guided you through—occasionally greeting and introducing you to people she's familiar.
"Good evening. This is my dear friend, y/n."
"How are you faring? Please meet my friend, y/n."
"A pleasure to meet you! This is y/n, a close friend of mine."
And despite the overwhelming sensation that overcame you, that light, kind smile never left your face. When the two of you finally reached the floor of the ballroom, the soft orchestra that played over several conversations reached your ears. You couldn't help but sway your body in unison with the rhythm. Vanessa, still latched to you, followed along as her eyes scanned the room.
"What are you looking for?" you asked in a whispered tone.
"Mr. Gray. I would like for you to meet him." Gently, Vanessa unhooked your arms and gave your hand a light squeeze. "I'll go find him. You stay here. Don't be afraid to speak to people, alright?"
Then, you were alone. Rather clueless, too.
You decided not to just stand in one spot, as it would lead to another type of attention that you didn't want. So, you slowly began to walk around, nodding and smiling at people who made eye contact and cheered their glasses toward you. Mindlessly, your feet led you to one of the many blue walls that possessed several paintings.
'Mr. Grey must be a hoarder of some sort,' you surmised, as your eyes grazed over the old portraits of forward-facing women and men, all peering down at you with a notable wisdom inside their eyes.
"This wall is one of my many favorites." A soft, nearly seductive male voice sounded behind you, as if he'd read your mind.
Quickly, you turned your head a bit to meet the intrigued, light gaze of a brown-haired man who held his hands behind his back. A small smirk played upon his lips, leading you to guess that he was one of those men.
Those men who could get anything they wanted at the snap of a finger.
Anyone they wanted.
And you could easily see how that came to be, because you found yourself drawn to him almost instantly. It wasn't anything of a physical substance that you could place your finger on, but rather an invisible pull to the brain.
"How so?" you asked, turning your attention back to the paintings. "What specifically names them your favorite?"
You felt the light brush of his breathing against the back of your exposed shoulder, as he took a single step closer to you. It unwillingly coaxed a shiver from you, given the fact that he hadn't touched you once.
"In their eyes, lies a story," said the man. "You can see that story as a figment of what they are made up of inside. Simply mortal. Simply of their innate sin." That last word came out as a whisper, through the slight grin you saw when you turned your body to look at him once more. "You're not from here, are you?"
You shook your head. "I'm just visiting for a little while."
The man, now smiling completely, held out his hand for you to take. "Dorian Gray. Care to dance?"
Ah. There he was, all along.
"Y/n." You took his hand. "With pleasure."
Dorian guided you out to the middle of the ballroom as a new song began to play on the strings. Many of the other guests partnered up and waltzed in unison with you. You didn't do much dancing back then, however you were surprisingly able to keep up well. Dorian was an impeccable leader, his eyes refusing to leave yours as you floated across the dance floor. That invisible pull seemed to return, as the intensity of his gaze caused you to fall deeper and deeper into his wordless allure. The final staw was when he drew you even closer to him, enough for his lips to ghost the shell of your ear.
"You're quite the rare beauty I've never had the pleasure of setting my sights on before. I can see your story. Completely mortal and of innate sin." He said this in a rather flirtatious way that elicited a fluttering sensation inside your stomach.
Slowly, you drew yourself back to meet his eyes again, only to see them clouded with inspiration and a subtle, hungry lust. He spun you around before taking you back into his arms.
"Is that a good thing?" you decided to tease.
"Very good." You noticed how his sight flickered up to the grandfather clock against one of the further walls before returning to yours. "How about you stay a little while longer? After the party's over. I'll be sure to take good care of you."
You smirked as that one significant, dangerous form of desire pumped through your blood. "As long as you're a man of your word."
