I said what I said. He’s a vampire who ran out on his hive because he was scared. He attacked people he knew would be dead anyway the next morning. He tried to get people to step out by playing the banjo and dancing outside their house. He’s so loser-coded that he can’t get a girl and can’t keep one either (his wife got either captured or killed). He convinced nobody with his shenanigans. The only reason he got to bite as many people as he did was because he used other people to get to them or he got the damn white supremacists to feel sorry for him (Bert and Joan). I am CERTAIN that it was his wife who used to bring home the bacon because this man here has zero survival or hunter instinct. He couldn’t even survive his own movie.
Charlie I’m telling you this in complete confidence. Also on the internet for strangers to see but we can pretend. (I chickened out and turned on anon anyway). I have an idea for remmick. The other blog doesn’t have asks turned on so I’m asking here.
Remmick with a sunshiney girlfriend. Very sweet kind, and bubbly. She ain’t exactly innocent and sometimes uses her innocent like charm to get people to open their doors to him. She won’t exactly lie either, “I trust him with my life!” She says, knowing he’ll end theirs. Loves to sing with him, and loves dancing too. Girl who would run for a field of flowers barefoot for the fun of it unironically
(Maybe it isn’t exactly like the initial idea? I took artistic liberties. 😅👍 Also, Stockholm Syndrome. Enjoy.)
You prided yourself on being a good neighbour so you had decided to go knock on the neighbours’ door after you had moved in next door. You met Bert and Joan. They were a little rude, but you knew it was because everyone was a bit distrustful those days. It was a dangerous world to live in and not all neighbours were friendly. Upon them opening the door, you heard a baby in the back and smiled at them—but they were quick to slam the door in your face. Rude. But understandable. You then decided to return to your new home and hope that you could perhaps change their minds with time.
…What you didn’t plan on was for someone to come knocking at your door at 3 am on a Sunday.
You rubbed your eyes and went to the window—only to see your neighbours standing there with creepy smiles on their faces. What the hell? Why did they look like that? You gathered your courage and opened the window.
“Hey, neighbours! What can I do you for?”
Bert stepped forth and shouted back. “Sorry, lil’ missie! We came to apologise. We were quite rude last time we had a chat and we were wonderin’ if we could come in to apologise properly?”
You frowned. “Do you folks know what time it is? Couldn’t you have just come by when the sun is up?”
Joan had this deeply unsettling smile as she stepped forward next. “We truly sorry. We just couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout it. We were really unkind to you and it kept us up ALL night.”
You hesitated. You no longer believed in Santa Claus, so you really didn’t believe in their sudden change of heart. But still, it would be nice to be friends with the neighbours. You sighed. “Alright. Wait up.”
You then quickly got dressed and went downstairs to open the door. You saw them both standing there and that odd feeling came back instantly.
“Hey there…” You stared at them. “So hum…you came to apologise, huh?”
They nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. We did.”
You looked around. “And hum…where’s the baby?”
Joan’s smile faltered slightly. “…At her grandma’s.”
You frowned. “Really? It’s hum…yeah. Nice.”
You really didn’t know what to say. The next step would be to let them in so you could perhaps have a chat? But really…the way they were both staring at you made you shiver and forget the rules of hospitality. You stood there like a rock at the entrance of your home with your neighbours still as two scarecrows in a field. They were waiting…for what?
You coughed. “Hum…apologies accepted. You really didn’t need to trouble yourselves by coming by.”
You were about to close the door when Joan suddenly spoke up. “Aww. C’mon, honey. We came all this way. We brought pie? We REALLY want to apologise properly.”
She showed you the pie…but it was tightly tilted. She didn’t even look down and the more you stayed there staring at each other—the more you felt that something was definitely wrong with them.
You chuckled awkwardly. “Right. Sorry. But…how about you come back in the morning and then we can all have breakfast together?”
You saw Bert’s hand twitch and Joan seemed to lose her smile.
“Now now…C’mon. It won’t take long, lassie.” Bert insisted.
You frowned. What was that? Lassie? Was Bert Irish?
“The accent is new.” You pointed out and Bert smirked.
“Yeah. Irish. Three generations on my mother’s side. You like Ireland, doll?”
You hummed and smiled. “Hum…Well, I like their dancing. Yeah.”
Bert smiled before making a few steps. “Like this?”
You were momentarily surprised before you smiled and nodded. “Yeah. You know how to dance?”
Bert and Joan smiled and then surprised you by dancing right outside of your house. They started by tapping their feet on the ground and throwing their legs in the air effortlessly. They circled around each other and you found the spectacle…charming in some way. You smiled and giggled as they clapped and sang together. There was certainly a funny side to your neighbours you hadn’t expected. You started dancing too. It was nice—instinctive. It made you want to step out and join them. But the moment you took a step outside, they stopped and their heads snapped towards you in frightening synchronisation. It made you stop dead in your tracks.
“Sorry. Did I overstep?”
They didn’t answer. Their heads tilted and they eyes blown wide. It almost seemed as if they were having a mental debate. You quickly stepped back. But Joan quickly raised a hand and smiled again. “It’s okay, honey. You can come out and dance with us.”
You hesitated before extending a hand forward. However, it wasn’t Joan who took it. Suddenly, another hand had latched from your right to grab your arm and drag you outside. Before you could comprehend what was going on, you were dancing. But with a man you didn’t know. You tried to pull away, but his strength was…out of this world. You opened your mouth to scream, but he slammed a hand over your mouth. He then looked down and smiled—showing you an impressive range of sharp teeth.
“Ssh, dolly. Not a sound now. It’s okay. Am not gonna hurt ye.”
You were scared as you realized that his mouth and neck were covered with warm sticky blood. You started crying and he shushed you again. “Now now. None o’ that, darlin’. I thought ye would like a lil’ dance with lil’ old me. I liked yer lil’ steps earlier and decided I would like to have this dance. Ye do not mind, right lassie?”
You didn’t really have a choice in the matter since you were pretty sure the man was a psychopath. Or some kind of crazy cult leader by the way Joan and Bert seemed to have their eyes fixed on him. You looked up at the sky. Really? Couldn’t you have nice and normal neighbours? Was it too much to ask? You then reluctantly nodded and the man grinned widely.
“Good lassie.” He then removed his hand and was pleased to find you obeying his suggestion, even though your heart was hammering in your chest. You thought for sure that you wouldn’t survive the night…might as well make your last moment unforgettable. When the stranger lead you into a dance, you decided not to fight it as he twirled you around. You could hear a soft symphony. Bert and Joan had started singing as you and your ravisher were dancing. Your eyes looked up at him and he grinned before effortlessly picking you up.
“How ‘bout a lil’ trip, darlin’?”
You opened your mouth to disagree, but before you could…he grabbed you and jumped. You were flying and had no choice but to grab onto him for dear life. You glimpsed down to find that your house was no longer in view and then looked back up at him. His eyes were already on you and he smiled. He already knew he had found himself a good companion. He couldn’t wait to show you to the others…
A month later
“Did I do well, Remmick?” You asked as you had opened the door to get him into yet another house. Remmick didn’t answer. He stared at you like your were the sun itself. Both feared and adored. You hadn’t hesitated. Not once. You had stepped into this house—ate with those strangers. You knew what would happen to them. And yet, you hadn’t hesitated before opening the door for him. You were supposed to be innocent, but your actions…your actions caught him off guard. It hadn’t taken him all that long to convince you of helping him. He had even been surprised by how easy it had been to manipulate you into doing his bidding.
But, he didn’t second guess it.
“Aww…C’mere, mo chroí.” He smiled and wordlessly lifted a hand to pull you closer. “Ye were perfect. Thank ye, me absolute bundle o’ joy.”
He wrapped his arms around you and you smiled as he stroked your back. Remmick knew you were a sucker for praise so each time he was pleased with you, he made sure you knew. It was the least he could do for his hardworking little sunshine. Love…You had never asked if he loved you, he hadn’t either. Because you both knew love didn’t matter. Only survival. Remmick was your protection, and you were his. You used your cute face to open doors for him, and he used his fangs to make sure your sunlight never dimmed.
Like a flower, you needed water, sunlight and a lil’ affection to flourish. So he did just that. He offered you everything that would make you smile and keep you happy. He let you roam free during the day, knowing that you would come right back comes nightfall. You were his little spotter. You found houses far enough from crowds to ask for hospitality and then—he would come in.
He kissed your cheek and whispered,
“Ye know am absolutely crazy ‘bout ye, right?”
You smiled and nodded. You knew you were his favourite. You knew he took pleasure in you doing whatever he wanted. It was the reason you were still breathing. That—and Remmick liked to have you close when he slept. He called you his lil’ human heater. No matter that humans were his food source, he seemed to be obsessed with them. He liked to do what he called ‘roleplay’ whenever you ended up in a new house.
“How ‘bout we become farmers for a while, dolly? Would ye like that? A bit o’ roleplay. Ye can be the sweet lil’ wife and I’ll be the hard workin’ husband. Dye think we’d get the parts?”
You would smile. Sometimes the roles would change. He would ask you to be his sister, his wife, his daughter, his girlfriend…Then Joan and Bert would take the secondary roles. But you liked that he always chose you to be the secondary lead in whatever ‘play’ came next.
He always thought of you first—or you liked to think he did.
One night, he pulled you into his lap when he was rocking on the porch and you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck. He kissed your neck in return and held you like this for a while. You both enjoyed the silence…until men approached the house. They didn’t seem friendly, but Remmick wasn’t worried. He whispered for you to get back inside the house and get to bed. You didn’t hesitate and got off his lap to enter the house.
You knew he would be alright.
You heard a couple of firing shots and screams, but you knew Remmick would be unharmed. He always was. You closed your eyes and as expected, Remmick came into the bedroom a few minutes later. He wordlessly settled behind you and wrapped his arms around you from behind. One of his hands laid spread over your stomach as his thumb gently caressed the fabric of your nightgown.
He then kissed the back of your neck and you felt the warmth, but also the wet sensation of blood on his lips. You shivered. But you were both perfectly aware that it wasn’t from fear or excitement, you were just uncomfortable with that feeling…You had always been. He hummed and pressed his forehead against your shoulder as he whispered almost apologetically:
“…Mo chuisle. I ruined another shirt.”
He sounded like a genuinely regretful puppy and you held back a laugh. Or was it a sob? You weren’t sure anymore…He kept kissing your neck to distract you and you knew you had no choice but to let him. He had just drank his fill and that’s when his most human side showed—alongside the emotional wave. He growled:
“Mo chuisle. Do not ignore me.”
He commanded and you closed your eyes before finally facing him. His glowing eyes were staring at you in the dark and you knew he could see your expression light as day. He stroked your lips with his thumb and you almost gagged on the taste of blood. You loved Remmick, but the taste? The taste was always so horrid and you made it a rule for him to wash after each feed. Unfortunately, that rule seemed to have been forgotten or ignored tonight…He kissed you. He always kissed you differently after each kill. Sometimes, it was gentle as the breeze, other times it was violent and as passionate as an animal. Through each kiss, Remmick made you learn more about humanity.
He was by no means human.
But he was an experiment, the content of thousands upon thousands of lives he drained. You particularly felt it when he kissed you after a feeding. They tasted like sadness, lust, joy, misery, pain, anger, hunger…all at once. You could never expect, all you could do was wait and feel. You had told him as such.
He pressed his forehead to yours and smiled. “What does it taste like now, mo ghrá?”
Your lower lip trembled. “…Regret.”
He hummed and kissed you again.
…
You looked at him one day and asked him: “Is it possible to fall in love with no one?”
He paused, like the question had struck some old, forgotten nerve. His eyes—normally glowing with mischief or bloodlust—dimmed into something unreadable. Ancient. Like a storm holding its breath.
“…With no one?” he repeated softly, almost to himself. You watched the gears turn behind his expression. He wasn't confused by your words. No, he understood exactly what you meant. It was the emptiness you were asking about. The way your heart ached for something that didn’t exist. Not a person. Not a face. Just…a space where love should be.
Remmick exhaled through his nose. It sounded almost like a laugh, but the kind you choke on.
“Aye,” he finally whispered. “It’s the worst kind.”
He looked at you then and there was a flicker of something that might have been sorrow. Or envy. Or rage.
“You fall in love with the idea of being safe,” he informed you, his voice as soft as silk and just as sharp. “With the way someone might have looked at you. The sound of a voice that never existed. A ghost ye made yerself, mo chroí.”
His hand reached for yours, fingers curling like vines around your knuckles.
“That kind o’ love? It’s dangerous. ‘Cause ye spend the rest o’ your life searchin’ for somethin’ that doesn’t breathe. And when it never shows…” He smiled—a bittersweet one. “…ye start lookin’ at monsters like me and think, ‘Maybe this’ll do.’”
The silence that followed stretched like a blade between you. You didn’t cry. You didn’t smile either. Just stared back and asked the question again, this time quieter: Is it possible to fall in love with no one?”
And this time, he didn’t answer. Because he didn’t have to. You both already knew the answer. But you would keep asking it—hoping one day for a different answer.
A few years later
Your voice trembled when you asked another question—barely a whisper, like you weren’t even sure if you wanted him to hear. “Remmick…Can no one fall in love with someone?”
He stilled. For once, Remmick didn’t smile. Didn’t tease. Didn’t purr out a clever answer in that sing-song Irish lilt you’d come to both crave and dread. Instead, he looked at you like you’d asked him if the moon could drown.
“…Aye,” he finally answered, and it hurt coming out. Like truth scraping its way up a ruined throat. “No one can.”
He meant himself. Remmick, the monster in borrowed skin. The thing stitched together from memories that didn’t belong to him. The one who slept beside you, bled on you, kissed you with a thousand ghosts behind his teeth. He pulled you close again, this time with both arms, like he was trying to make up for the cracks that just showed in his shell. His voice dropped to your ear, hoarse and full of something that sounded far too human:
“No one like me…I wasn’t meant for love. Not the way you understand it. I feel things. I want things. But love…real love…it slips through my fingers every time I try to hold it.”
You stayed quiet. Because part of you wanted to scream at him that he was wrong. That he was more than the death and hunger and rot. That whatever haunted thing that pulled you two together, it felt like something close to love. If it wasn’t…then what else was it?
But another part of you…It knew the truth. You were no one. And he was someone. Or maybe was it the other way around? You weren’t sure anymore.
“Can no one fall in love with someone?” You asked again—your eyes glassy with tears.
And this time, Remmick pressed his forehead to yours and whispered, “…Only if someone is naïve enough to let them.”
Your voice was too calm for what you were saying. It wasn’t a scream. It wasn’t a sob.
It was the truth. And it came out like a confession laid bare at the altar of something unholy. “I was someone before you…I learned to be no one.”
You felt his hand twitch against your back. You’d never seen Remmick flinch before—not when guns were pointed at him, not when bodies dropped, not even when he got hurt.
But that? That made him flinch.
“I was someone who had a name that didn’t come from your mouth. I had hands that opened doors, not ones that lured lambs to slaughter. I had thoughts that were mine. I smiled because I wanted to, not because you needed me to.”
You didn’t mean to say it all. Not at once.
But it poured out like water from a broken dam.
“I became no one so I could survive you,” you whispered. “So I could matter to you.”
He reached for you like a starving thing—but this time, you didn’t move.
“I never asked you to stop being someone, Mo ghrá,” he rasped, and you could tell he believed it. But he also knew. He knew what it meant, what it cost you to be what he needed.
“I made it easy,” you uttered softly. “I let you in. I smiled. I danced. I said yes.”
He nodded slowly. “Because ye’re kind. Because ye care.”
“No,” you denied, “because I was scared. And then I forgot how to be anything else.”
Remmick stared at you for a long time—long enough that the world outside the window went still. And then, he asked: “…Can you learn to be someone again? Please?”
You swallowed thickly. And then, barely audible: “…Only if you remember who I was before I forgot.”
And in that moment, with the blood still drying on his hands and your heart held together with fear and affection, Remmick whispered the first apology you’d ever heard from him: “I’m sorry, mo chroí. I didn’t mean to eat the part o’ you that dreamed.”
Your eyes watered. “Mo chroí. Mo ghrá. Mo Mo Mo…Mine. Always mine. But you are never mine, Remmick. I am yours. But you are never…mine.”
“…Don’t say that,” he whispered and kissed your forehead. “Ye don’t mean it.”
But you did. And he knew it.
“I let you crawl into every part of me,” you told him. “You sleep in my bed. You drink near my lips. You make me your dolly, your heater, your little actress in your twisted plays. I give you everything, and you give me just enough to stay.”
He reached for you again, but his hand hovered—hesitating.
“I want to be yours,” you choked, “but I want you to be mine, too.”
“Ye don’t know what ye’re askin’, mo chuisle…” he murmured and smiled weakly. To have him…Why would anyone ever want him?
“I do,” you said—as if reading his mind. “I’m asking if there’s any part of you you haven’t already given to the dead.”
Silence. Then his voice, lower than before. Frighteningly calm. “There’s nothin’ left in me they didn’t already take. I gave ye what I had. I am what I am.”
You stepped closer. You could smell the iron on his breath. “Then lie to me, Remmick. Say you’re mine—even if you don’t mean it. Say it, because I need something to hold onto.”
He looked at you like you were breaking his ribs without touching him. You were a flower. You needed water, a lil’ bit of sun and affection. He had given you two of them, but the last one. He didn’t know how to give you something he no longer possessed…You were asking for the heart of a dead man. But oh…he wished he could give it to you. Just to see you smile. Just to see you happy. He cupped your cheek with bloodstained fingers and said, with aching finality: “…I am yours.”
You closed your eyes. And for just a moment—just one—you pretended that was the truth.
“Remmick…Let’s…dance. Right? Let’s just…dance. Like that first night.”
Remmick’s jaw slackened as your words fell into the stillness between you. Slowly, he extended one hand. The other he kept pressed against his chest, as if there still beat a heart inside that monstrous frame. His glowing eyes flickered—uncertainty, regret, something like longing.
“Dance,” he echoed, voice barely more than a breath. “Aye…like the night I met you.”
He drew you close, one arm settling around your waist with surprising gentleness. The other took your hand, fingers brushing against yours—cold, stained faintly crimson. Outside, the wind stirred in the trees, but inside, the world contracted until it was only the two of you. You lifted your other hand to his shoulder. He bowed his head, so close your foreheads almost touched, and for the first time since you’d known him, he hesitated before placing his cheek to yours.
The room felt empty except for the soft scrape of your shoes on the floor. Remmick began to sway, a slow, mournful rhythm that you somehow recognized from the night of that first dance. But it was different. You were different. It was the same steps—hesitant, stilted at first—but still two scarecrows learning motion again. Your heart pounded with each step, but you matched him: one, two…one, two. Your other hand slid up to clasp the back of his neck, feeling sinew and the cold weight of his skull. He closed his eyes, and you could feel him drawing in your warmth.
At the second rotation, he whispered against your hair: “Mo chuisle…I love ye.”
Your grip tightened just a little—not in fear, but to steady him, to steady yourself. The beat in your chest guided him: “One, two…one, two.”
He paused mid-step, tilting your chin until your eyes met his. There it was—fleeting—something human flickering behind those ancient depths. Or was it the reflection of your own eyes in his? You weren’t sure.
And then he led you onward again, slow and steady: “One, two…one, two.”
Thinking about how Remmick could be caught off guard by someone lusting after him, the thought of him not getting much action for hundreds of years, with how touch-starved he probably is...
Then you come along, oblivious to the danger just in front of you, soft hands flirting with him. Poor Remmick just don't know how to take it. Plans of killing you thrown out the window as you wink, dancing your fingers over his taut skin.
WARNING: Not a happy ending I’m afraid. It was a nice adventure though…
Link for Part 4: https://www.tumblr.com/dark-fanfics-moon/783556930254831616/the-pet-remmick-x-reader?source=share
The morning light crept softly through the window, casting thin, golden beams across the room. You stirred gently in the warmth of his arms, the steady rhythm of his breath a comforting melody against your skin. His body was curved protectively around you, like you belonged there—as if you were the missing piece to his wild, fierce soul.
But then—a sudden sharp hiss escaped his lips.
Your eyes fluttered open just in time to see a ray of sunlight touching his skin. His body tensed, and with a swift movement, you scrambled to the window and pulled the blinds closed, plunging the room back into a soft shadow. He let out a low, amused chuckle as the dimness returned, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. His dark eyes found yours, sparkling with a mischievous glint.
“Better, mo chuisle,” he murmured, his voice thick with affection.
He slid out of bed with an easy grace, the quiet creak of the floor beneath his feet barely disturbing the morning calm. Coming up behind you, he pressed a feather-light kiss to the nape of your neck, his breath warm and tender against your skin.
“Thank you,” he whispered, voice husky. “For takin’ such good care of me.”
You smiled, your heart swelling at the sweetness in his tone, and leaned into him, feeling the steady strength of his presence.
You turned gently in his arms, resting your hands on his chest. You hesitated for a moment, then glanced towards the door.
“I should go out for a bit,” you told him. “Need to get some food for myself. We didn’t exactly stock up in a while and I bet the other pets would need some food too.”
His arms instantly tightened around you, like a stubborn knot refusing to be undone. His head dipped, and he buried his face into the crook of your neck with a dramatic little groan.
“Nooo,” he murmured, muffled against your skin. “Stay here with me, mo chuisle…I just got ye warm. The bed’s too cold without ye.”
You laughed gently, a hand rising to thread through his wild, dark hair.
“I’ll come back,” you promised. “It won’t take long.”
He pouted—actually pouted—and looked up at you with those pleading eyes, his lips still ghosting your collarbone.
“But I like it when ye’re here,” he whined, as if it were the most reasonable argument in the world. “Don’t go yet…just a few more minutes. I’ll starve for ye.”
You chuckled and rolled your eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”
He smirked. “I’m Irish.”
You both laughed quietly, and he held you even tighter, letting out a sigh that ruffled your hair.
“Fine,” he muttered, nuzzling your cheek. “Five more minutes. Then I’ll let ye go. But only if ye kiss me first. And not just a wee peck. I want me a good ol’ kiss on me mouth that will last me an eternity.”
He barely had time to finish his sentence before your lips were on his. It was soft at first—teasing, gentle—but then you smiled against his mouth, and that smile made something in him melt. Your hands slid up his shoulders, fingers curling behind his neck, pulling him closer until your bodies were pressed together. He let out a quiet sound—half sigh, half contented hum—and kissed you deeper, like he was trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, the taste of your affection. His hands found your waist again, reverent and steady, like he couldn’t bear the thought of you slipping away.
When you finally pulled back, his eyes were still half-lidded and dazed, like he was trying to figure out if he was dreaming.
“Ah, mo chuisle…” he whispered, forehead resting against yours. “Ye keep kissin’ me like that, I’ll forget what I was whinin’ about.”
You laughed softly and brushed his hair back from his forehead, letting your fingers linger.
“I need to go,” you murmured again, but this time the words were less certain, less convincing. It was hard to leave when he looked at you like that—like you were something holy and beloved.
Still, he let out a long breath and loosened his hold just enough to let you get away. “Alright, alright…” he relented with a dramatic sigh, reaching out to straighten the collar of your shirt like it was the final act of a king sending his queen into battle. “But ye better come back quickly, ye hear me, mo ghrá.”
He grinned, kissed your knuckles like a gentleman, and let you go—but not without watching you every step until you reached the door. He waved and you smiled before waving back and leaving the room.
…
An hour later in the market:
You were carefully turning a peach over in your hand, checking its ripeness, when a voice behind you cut through the hum of the morning market—sharp and disbelieving.
“Y/N?”
The peach slipped from your fingers and rolled off the crate. Your basket hit the cobblestone with a dull thud as you froze.
That voice.
It was a voice buried deep in your memories, one you had whispered prayers for night after night, hoping, begging for just one more time. You turned around, your breath catching in your throat.
There he stood. Your brother.
Older, maybe thinner, maybe more tired—but it was him. His eyes were wide, filling with disbelief as they swept over you, and your own were already brimming with tears.
“Y/N?” he called you again, stepping forward—but he didn’t need to. You were already running.
You launched yourself into his arms with a choked sob, your hands clutching at his shoulders like he might disappear again if you let go. He stumbled slightly but wrapped his arms tightly around you, one hand cradling the back of your head as you cried into his chest.
“I thought—” you gasped between sobs. “I thought I’d never see you again—”
“I looked everywhere for you,” he told you, his voice shaking as he held you tighter and his own tears fell down his cheeks. “Everywhere. I didn’t stop. I never stopped.”
You could barely breathe. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his coat. For a moment, nothing else existed—the chatter of the market faded, the sunlight became just warmth on your back, and the ache in your chest started to ease.
He was real. Your brother was here.
Then, you pulled away and smiled.
“I have so much to tell you.”
You brother smiled and nodded.
You both stopped at a bar nearby and started talking. You then poured out everything — the kidnapping, the nights spent fearing for your life, the vampire who had somehow become both captor and something more complicated. Your voice trembled as you spoke, the weight of it all pressing down on your chest.
He listened quietly, eyes darkening with every word, his hand never leaving yours. When you finished, he squeezed your hand tightly, voice low and full of regret.
“I am…so sorry I wasn’t there. I should have been here.” He swallowed hard, the memory clearly painful. “But then I received this letter…covered in blood. I knew something must have happened. But to think that all this time…you were forced to be the pet of that… monster.”
His gaze burned with a fierce protectiveness, a vow unspoken in his eyes.
“I won’t let anything like that happen to you again.”
You opened your mouth to ask what he meant by never letting you be hurt again, but before you could speak, a piercing scream echoed from the distance. Your heart skipped a beat as you turned toward the source. Out of the hotel where the vampires rested, Lyla and the other “pets” burst into view, panic etched deep into their faces.
When Lyla spotted you, her eyes filled with tears as she sprinted toward you, voice trembling with urgency.
“Y/N! They took them! They took Remmick, Annie, Stack…all of them!”
Your breath hitched, eyes widening in shock.
“Who? Who, Lyla?”
She sobbed, voice breaking.
“The Indians! The hunters! They took them all!”
A chill ran down your spine as the weight of her words sank in. You turned slowly, tears welling up in your eyes as you faced your brother. The heaviness in your chest made your voice barely a whisper.
“…Michael. What did you do?”
Michael scoffed, the edge in his voice sharp and cold.
“You really thought I was gonna let those monsters live? After what they did? They killed our father. That…thing needs to be punished.”
You couldn’t believe your ears. Your voice trembled as you asked, “Michael…Tell me. Where did the hunters take them?”
Michael’s voice dropped even lower, grim and fierce. “They dragged them all to the cliffs — the very edge where the sun’s last rays catch the rocks before nightfall. The hunters intend to leave them there, to burn them alive when the sun sets. The just divine punishment…to cleanse the world of those abominations.”
Michael then took your hand.
“But it isn’t our concern anymore. Come on. Let’s go home, Y/N. You do not have to worry anymore. Those monsters will get what they deserve.”
You shook your head. You didn’t hesitate. The weight of the news pressed heavy on your chest like a stone—Remmick, Annie, Stack, all trapped and doomed. You knew time was slipping through your fingers like sand, and waiting wasn’t an option. With a sudden surge, you pushed Michael’s grip away, your voice sharp and trembling with desperation.
“I’m going. I have to save them.”
His eyes widened, disbelief flashing in them for a brief moment, but you didn’t wait for his protest. Turning on your heel, you sprinted towards the stable near the edge of the market. Your heart hammered in your ears as you scanned the rows of horses, searching for one fast enough to outrun the setting sun.
Your fingers brushed against the mane of a sleek black stallion, eyes wild but steady. Without a second thought, you grabbed the reins, threw your leg over, and kicked hard against its flanks. The horse surged forward with a powerful gallop, its hooves thundering against the dirt road as you raced toward the cliffs.
Behind you, Michael’s shout was lost in the evening’s breeze, powerless to stop your desperate flight. The wind whipped through your hair, the urgency of the ride fueling every beat of your heart. You couldn’t shake the image of Remmick—helpless, scared, trapped on the edge of the world.
Ahead, the cliffs loomed like jagged teeth beneath the pale afternoon sun. You clenched your jaw, urging the horse faster as the shadows began to stretch long across the land. Time was running out.
And you wouldn’t let them be burned alive—not if you could stop it.
…
The cold wind howled around the jagged cliffs as the Indian hunters tightened their grip on the vampires. The hunters’ eyes were fierce and unyielding, faces painted with war markings that told stories of generations lost and battles fought. The sun hung low, its dying rays casting blood-red hues over the rocky precipice. The chief stepped forward, his gaze sharp and unflinching as he looked down at Remmick—the vampire who had been dragged forward, chains clinking with every desperate movement.
“Any last words, vampire?” His voice was steady, carrying the weight of justice as he spoke.
Remmick’s lips curled into a bitter, defiant smile, despite the cold metal biting into his wrists. His eyes flickered with a mix of pain, anger, and something darker—something that unsettled even the hunters watching. He lifted his head slowly, voice low and steady.
“You think this is justice?” he said, his tone mocking. “You know nothing of the darkness you seek to destroy. Burning us won’t cleanse your world. It is already doomed.”
Around him, the other vampires hissed and snarled, straining against their bonds, their eyes glowing faintly in the twilight.
The chief’s grip tightened on his spear, unwavering. “Your kind brought death to our people. This is the price.”
Remmick met his stare without flinching. A slow, bitter sigh escaped him—equal parts resignation and challenge.
“…Your people was never gonna survive. With or without me. But…I’ll see you in hell, Akakhtan.”
A flicker of surprise passed over the chief’s face before it hardened once more. Around them, the other hunters exchanged grim looks, but none spoke.
Akakhtan nodded slowly, as if accepting a promise he intended to hold. “So be it.”
The prisoners were forced closer to the cliff’s edge, the ground beneath them cracked and dry, the roar of the ocean waves far below. Remmick’s gaze swept across his captured companions—Annie’s eyes wide with fear, Stack’s jaw clenched tight, and Mary’s desperate silent prayer.
The sky deepened towards twilight.
And somewhere in the distance, a thunder of hooves echoed—an urgent, frantic sound racing against the dying light. Remmick’s eyes locked onto the distant figure galloping toward them—your silhouette etched against the dying light like a beacon of hope.
But then the sun’s last rays stretched across the jagged rocks, reaching him like fingers of scorching fire. The sunlight caught his skin, and suddenly, an unbearable, searing pain exploded through his body. His skin blistered and smoked, flames licking hungrily as they consumed him from within.
Your hair caught the wind, your eyes wide with horror, your hands yanking at the reins as the horse tore toward the cliffs. A small, broken smile touched Remmick’s lips. He saw you. You came for him.
But it was too late.
The last cruel fingers of sunlight stretched across the rocks, golden and merciless. They licked at his boots, then his legs—and then his chest. A raw, guttural scream tore from Remmick’s throat as his body ignited brighter, skin blistering, cracking, blackening in an instant. Tears streamed down his cheeks—not just from pain, but from the unbearable heartbreak of seeing you arrive…too late.
The chains rattled violently as the other vampires thrashed and howled in shared torment. Annie’s cries rose sharp and terrified, Stack roared through clenched teeth, his face twisted in agony. The air was filled with shrieking, burning flesh, smoke curling upward into the twilight sky like an offering to some cruel god.
You screamed his name—Remmick!—but the wind stole your voice before it reached him. Still, through the fire, his blackening lips moved, mouthing your name as he locked eyes with you one last time. You finally jumped off the horse before it even stopped, knees slamming into the dirt, the heat of burning bodies hitting you like a wall. You ran. Towards the screams. Towards the death. Towards him.
But Akakhtan stepped in front of you, spear drawn, his expression grim and unshaken.
“You should not have come, girl,” he growled. “This is justice.”
You didn’t care. You would tear the world apart to reach Remmick before the fire took him completely.
“REMMICK!”
Your scream ripped through the cliffs like a thunderclap, raw, desperate, and filled with a grief so sharp it could tear flesh. You lunged forward, but rough hands grabbed you, pulling you back, dragging you away from the inferno that was once the man you weren’t ready to lose.
“No—let go of me! LET ME GO!”
Your nails clawed at the dirt, legs kicking violently as the Indian hunters wrestled you down, their voices harsh and foreign in your ears. But you didn’t hear them—not really. All you could hear was the fire crackling…and Remmick’s screams. Agonized. Human. You turned your head just in time to see him drop to his knees, flames engulfing him fully, his body writhing—then slowing. His skin was cracked and charred, his eyes already losing light. But even then…
He looked at you. And he smiled.
Even as the fire consumed him, even as smoke poured from his mouth and his skin peeled like paper…he used his last strength to look at you.
To remember you.
“I’m sorry!” you sobbed, struggling harder. “I’m here—I came—I’m here—”
But the flames swallowed him. Remmick collapsed in a heap of ash and charred bone.
The other vampires’ screams still filled the air—Mary’s shrill cries, Stack’s snarls, Annie’s weeping—as they, too, were devoured by the light. The cliffs had become a graveyard of smoke and fire, and you…You were left kneeling in the dirt, your voice hoarse and broken, your body trembling in their grip.
And in the pit of your soul…something snapped. A scream of grief roared.
Then, silence.
You stopped struggling. Your eyes turned glassy. And then steel-hard.
Akakhtan leaned close, lips pressed into a thin line.
“This was…mercy,” he whispered. “Mercy for all monsters.”
You turned your head slowly to him.
And whispered: “Then may God have mercy on you…because you just made one.”
The look you gave him made the old chief shudder as him and the other hunters left.
The wind howled along the cliffs like a mourning spirit, lifting ashes into the sky—ashes that only moments ago had been Remmick. Your Remmick. You knelt motionless, surrounded by the scent of smoke and seared flesh, the screams still echoing in your ears. A hollow silence settled in your chest. Your eyes, still wet, now stared forward with a terrifying clarity. You stood slowly.
You looked to the pile of ash that had been Remmick…and bent down. With trembling fingers, you reached into the black dust. Your hand closed around something warm—his necklace. It hadn’t burned. The small, battered gold chain. You gripped it so tight it cut into your palm.
Behind you, the other pets arrived.
They shared your grief as some knelt before the piles of ashes.
But slowly…your grief became fury.
You stood—slow, deliberate, shaking with rage.
…Vengeance. You didn’t need to look at the other pets. They understood. They understood your fury—your pain.
Something inside you twisted. The grief that had threatened to break you suddenly exploded, filling every inch of you with resolve. You would bury every scream. You would memorize every flame. You would carry every name. You would carry out vengeance for Remmick, for Annie, for Stack, for Mary…for every vampire who had tried to be good to the pets they kept. The wind picked up violently then, as if the world itself was reacting to your vow. Loose ash swirled like smoke spirits, dancing in the air around you.
Without another word, you turned and Lyla followed...soon joined by all the other pets. You helped her up onto the horse you stole. She sobbed into your shoulder. You whispered to her softly:
“Dry your tears, Lyla. We’re not done.”
You cast one last glance at Remmick’s ashes.
And then you rode.
Back into the night. Back into the shadows.
Where monsters are made…
…
Years later
The fire in the hearth had long since gone cold, but you didn’t feel it. Not anymore. Your hands, gnarled and worn by time, rested on your lap—still clutching the old necklace.
The world outside had gone quiet.
Death was near. You could feel it in your bones, in the gentle slowing of your heart, in the way even dreams no longer stirred your sleep.
But when you opened your eyes…He was there.
Smiling, untouched by time, cloaked in night and memory. His hair was the same—dark as ravens’ wings, and his eyes still burned with that impossible intensity. But softer now. Like he had waited an eternity just for this moment.
You smiled, lips trembling, breath shallow.
“Remmick…” you whispered, tears already welling. “You came for me.”
He stepped forward, the light barely brushing him, and knelt beside you—his hands gently cupping your face, reverent as though you were still that young, fierce girl who he had once chosen as his companion. You placed a trembling hand against his chest. No heartbeat. No warmth. But you didn’t care. Not anymore.
“I killed them,” you told him. “All of them. Every last one who took you from me. I…I didn’t stop.”
A long silence passed. He looked at you like you were the only thing that had ever mattered. Then he smiled—a quiet, broken thing—and brushed a lock of your silver hair behind your ear.
“I know,” he whispered. “I saw.”
You leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. “I was so tired, Remmick…but I waited. I waited for you.”
He kissed your withered forehead.
“I never stopped waiting for you either, mo chuisle.”
And then you felt it—his forehead pressing gently against yours, the necklace slipping from your hand as your strength finally gave way.
Your final breath came softly.
A sigh. A release.
And when your body stilled, Remmick was still there—smiling, radiant, as he bent down and kissed your forehead one last time. The room filled with a golden glow, and the shadows clung to him no longer.
He lifted your soul from your body, cradling you like something precious.
“You’re free now,” he whispered. “Let’s go home, darlin’.”
And together, you walked into the dark—But for the first time in your life, it didn’t feel like an ending.
It felt like dawn.
You looked at him and down at his hand.
Remmick paused at the threshold between life and whatever lay beyond, holding your spirit close in his arms—lighter now, like the burdens of time and grief had finally slipped away. His gaze lingered on your face, still so familiar, still so beloved.
Your voice, though faint, held the same warmth it always had.
“Remmick…could you sing me another song ? Just one…just one last song.”
He swallowed hard, jaw tightening as his throat worked against the rising emotion. For a long moment, he said nothing—only looked at you, as though trying to memorize your face one last time. Then, his voice came. It carried a melody older than language, a song only sung between souls who knew loss…and love.
“Oh, mo chuisle, rest ye now,
The fire has burned, the field is plowed.
The night is kind, the wind is slow,
And I will never let ye go…”
His voice trembled once, but he didn’t stop. The song wove around you like a blanket, and the weight of everything—of years and blood and heartbreak—faded beneath it.
“Through ash and sun, I searched for thee,
Across the shores, across the sea.
But here you are, and now we’re whole—
The flame returns to warm the soul.”
By the final note, your eyes were closed, lips curved in a peaceful smile. Remmick bent low, pressing one last kiss to your brow, and whispered, his voice cracked:
“No more waiting. It’s time to go home now, me love.”
And with that, the old world fell away.
Together, you stepped into eternity—hand in hand, no longer haunted by flames or chains, no longer separated by the cruelty of fate. Just two souls, whole again, walking into the quiet forever, cradled by a song that would never end.
This is my favourite gif of Remmick. I know a lot of people love the bloody ones and I love them too. But just from his facial expression, I KNEW that man would become my favourite of the movie. He’s looking at his memories. Look at his eyes. He’s gone fishing into memory lane to share his old life’s songs because that man loved and still loves the country he was born in and wanted it to live on inside him. He’s so proud of it too. And he got upset when he was interrupted because like…he was feeling genuinely happy. I know he’s using music as a way to trap people but…Like…his passion followed him after his death. A true artist. Go Remmick. Sing and dance your undead heart out. 😭😭😭
Also: He’s a short-tempered sassy Irish short king. What is not to love ?
I can't get over how Sinners is such a rich text on assimilation and whiteness and the dangers of "civility" and music as a way to look both forward and back
And it's also a phenomenal vampire movie where a lot of hot people get covered in blood and there's a B plot about eating out girls
Synopsis: Remmick will use ALL methods to make you stay. But maybe that backfired a little…
Warning:…It’s smut. Here. I said it. I have never written actual smut before in my life. But Remmick made me want to. Also Remmick is kind of a switch in this. He gives as much as he receives I’ll say. If you do not like smut, do not read. If you like smut, do not hesitate to like and comment. With that, enjoy. 😄👍
Here is part 3:
💬 6 🔁 4 ❤️ 125 · THE PET Remmick x Reader · Part 3
Synopsis: You are learning what being a pet in the hive means and start ge
Irish Gaelic vocabulary used:
A ghrá: My love
Mo mhuirnín dílis: My faithful darling
Le do thoil: Please
Mo chroí: My heart
Táim ag dul chun do scriosadh: I am going to destroy you
Mo shíorghra: My eternal love
Your back slammed against the doorframe as Remmick’s hand tightened around your throat—not enough to crush it, not yet, but enough to make your breath catch. The inn’s candlelight flickered wildly as he shoved the door open, dragging you inside your shared room like you weighed nothing. The door slammed shut behind you with a finality that made your heart leap to your throat. Remmick’s eyes burned with anger, hurt, obsession—all tangled into one. He pushed you back against the wall and stared at you, his face still wet with another man’s blood.
“You ran.” His voice was calm, but the weight in it was terrifying. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath cool and unsteady. “You ran from me, darlin’…after all that warmth. All that progress between us…? Ye disappoint me, pet.”
You tried to speak, to explain, to cry—but his hand was still on your throat. He was pissed.
“Ye got me feelin’ things, darlin’. Things I dunno know what to do with.” He gave a breathless little laugh. “And then ye go runnin’ into another man’s arms like it meant nothin’. Aww…tut-tut-tut. Bad pet. That ain’t kind.”
His lips brushed your ear.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t just drain ye right now. Tell me why I should let ye keep that sweet lil’ heart beatin’ after yer lil’ betrayal ?”
You wanted to lie, but instead you shook your head and a laugh escaped you. You were tired and just wanted all this to end. “Of course I wanted to leave. You treat me like a pet. You make me feel worthless. Why would I want to stay with you ?”
Your words hung in the air like a blade freshly drawn. Remmick froze. For a second, he didn’t breathe. Then his hand dropped from your throat. The silence that followed was suffocating. His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck twitching as he slowly stepped back from you.
“Worthless…” he repeated, as though testing the word. He laughed once, low and hollow and raised his hand to his head in disbelief. “That really what ye think I see ye as ?”
He shook his head and looked at you, really looked this time—eyes flickering over your tear-streaked face, the way your chest rose and fell from everything he’d done. His voice, when it came again, was quieter.
“Ye think I dunno what I did to ye ? I ain’t stupid, darlin’. But I’m fuckin’ tryin’ here. I-I brought ye gifts ! I feed ye ! I take care of ye ! What more dye want from me, huh ?” He reached up slowly, brushing his fingers against your cheek as if the gesture could make up for anything. “You don’t know what it’s like…bein’ what I am. Cravin’ warmth every damn day and bein’ told you’re too monstrous to deserve it. So yeah, maybe I hold on too tight when somethin’ good comes near. But to hell with it…You’re the first thing in years that makes me feel alive.”
His eyes searched yours before he shrugged.
“But if ye want to go…I ain’t gonna stop ye this time. Door’s right there. But if ye stay ? You best mean it.”
The silence returned, pressing between you. The firelight crackled. He looked like he was bracing himself for you to walk away. You humphed and took a step towards the exit, but faltered and started thinking about what you would be returning to. Where would you go ? Your brother ? Your aunt ? They didn’t want to see you. They had their own life. Their own responsibilities. The people in your village hated you and you felt even more alone. To make matters worse…You felt Remmick’s hand hovering over your shoulder.
“…Me dolly. Ye know I could be good to you.”
Your breath hitched. That voice sent something skittering down your spine. Not fear this time, not entirely. Something deeper. Loneliness meeting loneliness. A cry in the dark met with another echo. You stared at the door again. Beyond it was freedom, yes…but also emptiness. Judgement. Cold nights and colder stares. No one waiting for you. No one calling you dolly like it meant something more than just another word in the wind. Remmick’s hand still hadn’t touched you, but you could feel its presence in the air just above your skin, like he was waiting for permission.
“…Why would you be good to me ?” you finally asked, voice quiet, tired, but not angry anymore. Just lost. He took a breath, slow and cautious, as if afraid you’d bolt at any second.
“Because I want to be,” he whispered, and his voice cracked ever so slightly. “Not just fer me. Fer ye.”
The next thing you felt was his fingers lightly brushing your shoulder. Gentle this time. Not grabbing. Not holding. Just there.
“I ain’t got much,” he continued. “Ain’t got grace or kindness like the stories tell. But I got loyalty. I got hunger. And if ye stay—I swear on my own grave—I’ll learn how to touch ye right. Speak softer. Bite less.”
A pause. And then, in that worn Irish lilt:
“Ye could teach me. If ye want.”
You stood still, the quiet of the room deafening, the door still there before you. You could just—
You lifted a hand to the handle. You opened it.
Remmick was standing behind you…his nose tracing the back of your neck. You closed your eyes at the feeling and shakily closed the door. You didn’t feel Remmick’s hand moving until it was back around your throat. But he didn’t squeeze. He wanted to hear your heartbeat and whispered in your ear:
“Good lassie. I knew you were smart…”
You could feel the cold pads of his fingers resting at your throat, and behind that—the warmth building in him, drawn straight from the frantic rhythm of your pulse. His lips brushed your ear, and he murmured again, his voice almost fond now:
“Smart and sweet. Me lil’ darlin’. Me dolly…” He inhaled deeply. “You made the right choice. Out there, they’d gut ye with words, starve ye with silence. But here ? With me ? I’ll never let ye go hungry. Never let ye freeze.”
His hand slowly slid down from your throat to your collarbone, then rested just over your heart. He was listening to it. Feeling it beat for him.
“Feel that ?” he whispered. “It’s mine now.”
You shivered and he smiled.
“Are ye scared, lil’ dolly ?” he asked and closed his eyes before pressing his temple against yours. “Or…are ye startin’ to see what I see ?”
Your lips parted, but no sound came out. His words had scraped something raw inside you—torn through every lonely night, every moment of aching rejection, and left you exposed.
Were you scared ?
Of course. Of course, you were. He was a vampire. A bloodsucker. A skilled manipulator. But what chilled you more…was how much you wanted to believe him. That he could be good. That you could teach him softness. That in all the darkness, maybe—just maybe—you weren’t just something he took, but something he chose.
“…I don’t want to be owned,” you murmured after a moment, barely above a breath. “I want to be loved.”
The silence that followed cracked like thunder.
Remmick didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. The tension in his fingers went slack, not retreating, but changing. His hand on your chest softened until it wasn’t a claim anymore, but a vow. You felt his forehead shift, the line of his jaw clench.
Then, in a voice so broken it barely resembled his own, he whispered, “I know.”
You turned your head, just enough for your temple to press into his. For your breath to mingle with his in the stillness.
“Would you ? Love me ?”
For a long time, the room didn’t move. The fire crackled. The air was thick with tension and promise. Remmick’s grip finally slipped away, replaced by both hands gently cupping your face. And then he kissed you—not rough, not claiming, not devouring.
But trembling. Searching. Trying.
Trying to be good. For you.
In a moment of pure madness, you turned around and kissed him back. Your hands found the worn edges of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric, like if you let go you’d be swept away in everything he was—danger, devotion, ruin. His breath hitched, and for a split second, you felt him falter, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were really kissing him back. But then he melted into it—one arm wrapping firmly around your waist, the other sliding up to cradle the back of your head with surprising tenderness.
His lips, still tasting faintly of blood and desperation, moved hungrily against yours. It was chaotic and clumsy, the way all first true things are. His teeth grazed your bottom lip when he pulled away slightly, breathing hard.
You exhaled shakily, your heart hammering against his chest as your mouth opened to demand. “A-Again.”
That broke something in him. He kissed you again—slower this time, reverent, like your mouth was a prayer and he was starving for salvation. His fingers threaded into your hair. You could feel the tremor running through his body, the conflict of instinct and longing, of bloodlust and heartache, all crashing into the simple truth that he wanted you. You cupped his cheek, feeling the smoothness of his skin beneath your palm, and for the first time, you saw not the monster—but the man clawing his way back from the edge.
“D’not leave me, me darlin’…” He begged.
Your breath hitched.
“I’m not…going to—if you stop giving me reasons to,” you replied. “But you have to meet me halfway.”
A breathless laugh escaped him. “Aye, dolly. I’ll crawl the whole damn way if I have to...”
You kissed a third time. But then suddenly, flashbacks of what had happened to your father seemed to fill your mind and you stumbled back, your hand flying to your mouth in disbelief. Oh no…What had caused you to respond ? To say such things to your captor—your ravisher ? Remmick stood frozen, eyes wide, lips slightly parted where your kiss had just been. For a moment, he looked almost human—as if you’d stolen the breath right from his undead lungs.
Then, slowly, something shifted in his expression. His tongue ran over his bottom lip like he was tasting honey for the first time.
“Well…” he drawled, voice low and disbelieving. “Didn’t see that comin’. Such fire. Such passion. Ye kissed me back, darlin’. Ye chose to. Can’t take that back now.”
You shook your head, still backing away, eyes wide with panic. “I—I didn’t mean to—I don’t know why—”
“Oh, but I do.” His grin was hungry now, but not for blood. “Yer mine, and yer body’s startin’ to realise it before yer mind inevitably does.”
You trembled, torn between shame and something far more terrifying: the fact that a part of you—some wild, lonely part—wanted it. Wanted him. You tried to leave the room, but Remmick was quick and grabbed you again and started kissing your neck. “Ye could go…or ye could just lemme show ye how good I can be.”
You struggled, heart thundering, hands pushing against his chest—but it wasn’t with your full strength. Your body was caught in that awful middle place between defiance and surrender. He felt it. He knew it.
Remmick chuckled softly against your skin, breath cold as ice. “There it is again…That fire. That tremble.” His fingers curled around your waist like they’d always belonged there. “Ye do not want to run, dye me sweetheart ?”
Your breath hitched. He kissed you again—slower this time. Deliberate. Torturously tender. “Ye got no place else to go, darlin’. No one who’ll take ye in, no one who’ll see ye like I do. I could keep ye warm. I could make ye forget what it was like to be unloved.”
You were trapped—not just by his strength, but by the terrible, aching truth of those words. Your breath caught in your throat. His fingers, careful but unrelenting, moved slowly, slipping past the loosened fabric of your shirt as if he were unwrapping a gift he’d waited far too long to open. You closed your eyes tighter, trying to silence the confusion tearing through your thoughts. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t supposed to feel—
“You’re shiverin’, me lil’ warmblood…” Remmick whispered, his lips brushing just beneath your jaw. “It’s okay. I’ll warm ye up.”
His thumb swept gently across your stomach as he studied you, his breath heavy against your skin.
“I could take care of ye, y’know,” he murmured. “Make ye feel wanted. Ain’t that all ye ever needed ?”
You were silent—torn between the horror of the situation and the ache of years spent being unseen. His lips pressed just above your heart.
“Just say the word, me darlin’.” He waited, his cold breath still ghosting across your skin, the quiet between you thick as blood. You didn’t pull away—but you didn’t lean in either. You simply…stayed.
And that was enough for him.
A low sound rumbled in his chest, something close to a purr, as if your silence confirmed something he’d long suspected. His fingers resumed their slow exploration, reverent in their touch now, as if you were sacred—something rare, something stolen from the warmth of the world and given only to him.
He pressed his forehead to yours.
“I’ll ask again, every single time. ‘Cause I want ye willing, not afraid. So…Dye want me to take care of ye, me pretty thing ?”
You sighed and looked up at the sky. Father. Forgive me. Which one you were addressing that prayer to ? You weren’t sure. Maybe both…And with that, you nodded in agreement. Remmick smiled victoriously and then lifted his hand to remove your shirt. He then gently pushed it off from your shoulders, his eyes never leaving yours.
You instinctively covered your chest and closed your eyes. Alright. Maybe you should have thought this through. It wasn’t too late. You could still back out from this…right ? Remmick paused again, his eyes flicking to your hands covering yourself. His expression softened for a moment, but it was fleeting. His fingers twitched, as though battling with the temptation to disregard your hesitation and continue, but he stayed still.
He let out a soft breath and slowly withdrew his hands, not wanting to rush you, even though his desire burned beneath the surface.
“Yer not ready, are ye ?” His voice had lost some of its edge, replaced with a curious softness, an expression which seemed affectionate. He took a small step back, his gaze lingering on you. The room felt too warm, too charged with anticipation, but he seemed to respect the boundaries you had set, even if just for now.
“Take yer time. I got ALLLL the time in the world,” he told you with a smile. He then nonchalantly picked up his banjo and started playing a tune, humming along as he waited. The soft, rhythmic strumming of the banjo filled the room, its melancholic yet comforting sound breaking the tension. Remmick’s voice was low and soothing as he hummed along, the melody like a lullaby, though it felt strangely out of place given the situation.
His gaze remained on you occasionally, but he didn’t press further. His fingers danced across the strings with practiced ease, and the familiar tune seemed to wrap around the room, enveloping you in its quiet chaos.
You couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of calm amidst the storm inside your head. As his melody lingered, you found yourself standing there, caught between wanting to escape and the undeniable pull he had over you. His music, his voice—it was as if he was trying to soothe you, to make you stay without saying a word.
You could feel your heartbeat in your chest, thudding in time with the banjo’s rhythm. Despite everything, there was something gentle in the way he played, something that kept you rooted to the spot. As your hands slowly fell to your sides, the weight of the decision seemed to lift for a brief moment. His eyes flicked to you, but he didn’t stop playing, his fingers never missing a beat. He seemed content, as if the music was his way of reassuring you. He didn’t press you. He never would…
Remmick was waiting—waiting for you to decide.
And in the stillness of that moment, as his soft humming blended with the music, you couldn’t help but wonder: What would it be like to just let go ? Your hands then slowly lifted before you could command them to do so…reaching forward. He smirked knowingly, as if saying ‘finally’ and in a matter of seconds, the banjo clattered to the floor, and you found yourself replacing it in his arms, your legs straddling him before your mind could catch up. His cold hands settled at your waist with practiced ease, holding you firm, as if he’d known you’d end up there all along. His lips pressed softly to your bare shoulder, humming that same haunting tune. The vibrations of it hummed through your skin.
“Tha’s it,” he murmured against your skin. “Me good lassie…warm ‘n willin’…”
The warmth of his mouth against your skin, the grip of his fingers on your hips—it was maddening, terrifying, addictive. You never thought in a million years you’d be enjoying this. You felt yourself giving in to the intense sensations, his body between your legs, his mouth on your skin. Your hand moved down without your consent…You opened a few buttons of his slacks. He groaned when he felt your hand start to undo them. He looked down at what you were doing, and let out a sharp intake of breath. He then looked up at you quizzically, studying your face to see how serious you were. His gaze was a mixture of lust and something else…a strange, almost childlike curiosity or mischievous glee.
You didn’t know what you were doing. You were being reckless and irrational, but you were so far gone by now that you couldn’t think straight anymore. You were acting of your own free will…but he was the one driving you wild. His eyes didn’t leave yours, his breathing heavy, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. His eyes were completely dilated, his breathing erratic. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t have the words. What was this ? He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out were ragged gasps and moans of pleasure.
You were shocked and enthralled by this powerful creature, now so desperate for your touch. Your hand slid down, gently stroking him. He let out an undignified whimper and his head fell forward onto your shoulder.
This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go…He was supposed to have control and show you his talents to manipulate you into submission and yet—
“Stop.” He gasped and tried to push your hand away, but to no avail. You felt a smirk spread across your face at how much you were frustrating him. You moved your hand again, teasing him. He whined and grunted at your touch. You looked at him, studying him with curiosity. You had him trembling from the simple brush of your hand against him.
He had to stop this. He knew he had to stop this…but Remmick couldn’t. He hated himself for how badly he wanted this, how needy he was to feel your touch. He tried to push your hand away again, but you tightened your grip. He groaned, closing his eyes. You were completely in control now.
You whispered in his ear. “What’s the matter, Remmick ? Not used to being lead ?”
He moaned softly at hearing his own name. The way you said it…he had never heard it sound so good before. He gripped the sheets, his grip white knuckle as he fought to control himself. His body was shaking, he couldn’t believe this was happening.
“Damn ye…” He growled the words out from gritted teeth, and the words sounded more like a curse or a plea.
You loved seeing him like this, seeing him struggle. He was so powerful and had always been in control…and now you had this power over him. This monster who could have killed you with a snap of his fingers couldn’t even fight his need for you. He was desperate now. The sound of him groaning and hissing like a beast…you had never heard something so erotic.
“…Lay down.” You instructed and he looked at you, his expression incredulous. He was torn…he wanted to resist, but he also wanted to obey you. His brain was screaming at him to regain control of the situation, but his body was obeying you on its own. He tried to fight it, but something overcame him and he finally relented. He slowly laid himself down with a thump, his back hitting the bed in his eagerness. You released him…but only to unbutton his shirt next. His chest was pale and strong, the lines of his abdominal muscles were clearly defined. You took one finger and gently traced it down the middle of his chest, starting from the top of his sternum, all the way down to his stomach. He closed his eyes and his chest rose and fell, as he struggled to maintain control. He was already a mess. Every touch of your fingers made him shiver.
He reached up, wanting to touch you as well, but you swatted his wrist away. He was shocked at the gesture and you almost laughed at how wide his eyes became. He looked up at you, trying to contain his surprise and frustration. He then opened his mouth to protest, but you placed one finger on his lips, silencing him.
“Now…You let me do this.” You demanded.
He hesitated before closing his eyes, and his body relaxed back against the bed. This was NOT surrender—he tried to convince himself. A pet should have some fun sometimes. It was…the natural way of things. However, he underestimated your brazenness and didn’t expect the sudden feeling of your lips on his body. Your hands roamed over the pale flesh of his chest and your mouth followed, placing small, delicate kisses on his skin. He inhaled sharply and his hands were grasping at the sheets now. He wanted to touch you…He growled in frustration.
Meanwhile, you couldn't believe it either. This creature…this monster…was under your spell. He was almost whimpering at the feeling of your mouth on his skin. You ran your hand along the ridges of his abdominals, marveling at the power you were holding in your hands. You continued on with your ministrations, running your fingers across his skin…tracing along his body, exploring every inch of his exposed flesh. He let out another small moan, his body shaking under your touch. He was breathing heavily, trying to fight off the sensations. You couldn't believe the raw intensity of the moment…the look of pure helplessness on his face as you—
He let out a strangled gasp, his eyes snapping open and staring down at you in shock at the sight of your lips on his manhood. His body jerked involuntarily. Warm…so warm. He was panting, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his breathing ragged. But you didn’t let up. His breathing grew faster, more desperate. He couldn’t even keep his eyes open anymore. As you continued your ministrations, he felt like he might break, but he didn’t want this to stop. The urge to touch was so strong…but every time he tried, you would stop him.
His body was begging for release, but you were keeping him on the edge. Suddenly, you stopped and lifted yourself up to be face to face with him as you kept stroking him. You wanted to see his face. His eyes were wide open in shock and it was so very satisfying to see him speechless. You flattened his black curls and your mouth hovered over his. But you wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction…You kept squeezing and stroking him while staring into his eyes. His mind was reeling. He let out a strangled groan. He was trying to speak, but the sensations you had stirred up in him were making it difficult to form a sentence. He leaned forward, trying to kiss you, but you pulled back, keeping a small gap between your lips. You were teasing him…you were making him wait.
He tried to lift a hand to pull you closer to him, but you gently took his wrist and moved it back to the bed. He grunted in frustration, every part of him begging you for a kiss, for a touch, for anything…
“A ghrá…Please. A ghrá…” He called for you. His breath caught in his throat as soon as he heard his own words. A ghrá. It was an old term of endearment he hadn’t used in centuries…Hearing him speak in his original language made your blood boil in return. You relished the fact that you had him pleading. You leaned in a bit closer, letting him feel your breath on his face. He leaned forward, trying to catch your mouth once more…but you pulled away once again. It was a game…and you were winning. He was panting now, desperate to touch you.
“Please…A ghrá…” He growled. He couldn’t take this anymore…he was losing his mind. “A ghrá…I need ye.”
You looked down at him, enjoying the sound of his soft Irish lilt when he spoke his first language. He was now gripping your hips, trying to pull you closer. He was desperate, but you still would not let him kiss you. You looked down at his sharp teeth piercing through his gums now and the drool smeared acres his cheeks and chin.
…Were you really gonna do this ? Lose your innocence to this monster ?
He suddenly opened his eyes and stared up at you, his face filled with hunger and need and desperate desire. He was a monster…but you couldn’t deny the pull that he had over you. His breath was ragged and his hands were shaking violently, still staring up at you with those dark, lust-filled eyes. He was trying desperately to pull you closer, to feel your body against his, but you were still holding yourself just out of his reach. He growled in frustration.
“Mo mhuirnín dílis…Le do thoil.” He begged, saying things he wouldn't have dreamed of saying before. His body was shaking, his hands trembling as he fought to restrain himself. “Please, a ghrá…I need ye. I want ye. I'm begging ye. Lemme kiss ya…”
You gritted your teeth and forced yourself to remain unyielding. “No. You are still a monster. A creature from hell. A bloodsucking ghoul. You deserve…nothing.”
His eyes widened and his mouth did as well and you could see the sheer desperation in his gaze.
“Ach, a ghrá…darlin’…” His breath hitched as he felt you lower yourself onto him—but still not allowing him entrance. He was fighting for control, his body trembling, his fangs bared. “Darlin’…don’t. AH !”
He let out a moan as he felt himself enter you just a bit. It was so good…bliss. But you wouldn't let him have more. He looked up at you, his expression pained. He was trying to maintain his composure, but he was losing his mind.
“Please…a ghrá. Mo chroí, I need this…please…”
You saw how desperate he was, and you took pleasure in knowing how much power you had over him at the moment. You had him begging for your kiss…you had him begging for your touch. You had taken the most powerful, dangerous creature in the world, and reduced him to a trembling, needy mess. You wouldn’t even let him touch you…and you felt more powerful than you had ever felt in your life.
You leaned down closer to his face and smirked as you repeated mercilessly.
“No.”
He let out a whimper at your words. You had reduced this creature to a needy, desperate mess. He was begging you for the smallest amount of release.
“Me darlin’. P-Please. T-Tell me I can enter ye. Please. I cannot…enter ye fully without an invitation.”
You smiled down at him, almost cruelly. You had this monster completely in your power. “No. You don't get to touch me. You don't get to kiss me. And you don't get to come inside me neither. You don't get anything from me.”
He suddenly roared in frustration. “LET ME IN, YE WRETCHED WOMAN !"
He was screaming now, his whole body shaking. He had completely lost his composure. You had destroyed him, and it was the most satisfying thing you had ever seen. His eyes were red now and he was screeching like a banshee—his claws tearing through the sheets.
“LET ME IN ! NOW !”
He was like some feral animal. He was so desperate, he didn’t know what to do. You leaned down, and whispered to him in the softest voice you could muster.
“No. You don’t get to have me. You don’t get to have what you want. You will do as I say and take what I give you, you filthy bloodsucker.”
He let out a low, animalistic growl as he heard your words. He was almost beyond words. He was ready to do anything, say anything, to have you in any way he could.
He whimpered in frustration, and tried again. “Please…I’m beggin’ ye. I’ll do anything ye want. I’ll do whatever ye say. I’ll give ye anythin’ ye want…ah ! I just need to be in ya !”
Your smirk grew wider as you looked down at him, taking satisfaction in his desperate, begging state. He was at your mercy now. You whispered again, your voice soft, but commanding. “No. Beg all you want, Remmick. You don’t get to have me. Do you hear me, you pathetic bastard ?”
He let out a pitiful whine in response, his face contorting in pain. He was so close, but yet so far…he couldn't take this any longer. His body was trembling, his mind was racing…he needed you. He needed you so badly. He was almost in tears now as he pleaded with you. “Please…I can’t stand it. Please, A ghrá. Please, please let me come in ye. Just a lil’ bit. I know I don’t deserve it, but just a lil’ bit. Please…C’mon !”
You shook your head. You could see how desperate he was, and his sounds of despair were like music to your ears. You leaned down, so your mouth was only a few inches from his ear. “No. You don’t get any more than what I’ve given you. You don’t get anything from me…no matter how much you beg. You don’t get to touch me, kiss me, or come in me. You’ll come without me and I will relish your utter defeat…”
That was it…he couldn't take it anymore.
He screamed out, a primal, anguished howl. He couldn't do this anymore. He was a wreck, his whole body shaking. He pleaded and whimpered and cried. He was beyond words, beyond reason. He let out a strangled cry as he tried to form words again.
“Please, a ghrá. I’m beggin’ ya…I’ll do anythin’ ! I’ll crawl for ya. I’ll get on me knees. I’ll worship ye, mo shíorghra…” His words became more desperate and incoherent. He was begging and pleading. “Please, a ghrá. Gimme just a bit more, please. I’m beggin’ ye. I’ll do anythin’ fer ye, anythin’ ye ask. I’ll kiss the ground ye walk on, just please, PLEASE…let me come inside you. Just a bit. I’ll be so good. I won’t even move. Just a bit is all I’m askin’. Just a lil’ bit, darlin’ please, I’m beggin’ ya, darlin’ ! Lemme inside !”
You felt a surge of excitement in watching him plead so desperately. You leaned down and purred to him. “No. I like seeing you beg like this. It amuses me. But you don’t get to have me. You don’t get to come inside me. You’re going to come without me. You’re gonna spill yourself all over like a dirty pig—like the animal you are—and I am gonna watch. And I am gonna enjoy it. And you will feel humiliated—just like I have been for the past few weeks.”
His body tensed up, and you could see that he was getting close. He looked up at you weakly, helpless to stop himself. He let out a strangled whine, his voice barely above a whisper—one last desperate attempt to make you change your mind. “Please…a ghrá…PLEASE. I’m BEGGIN’ ye, a ghrá. Please, mo shíorghra…”
Your smirk grew even wider as you saw how completely helpless he was to stop himself and he took your wrist to kiss it and lick it. You had him right where you wanted him…You leaned down, your mouth hovering over his ear.
“No.”
As he came, you saw a look of despair and helplessness in his face, and you felt a pang of pleasure. His body convulsed as he came. It was the most intense and pleasurable experience he had ever had in his life, and it was ruined. He had become undone, and he hated you for it. Yet you felt nothing but triumph. He was a monster, and you had utterly, completely, totally dominated him. He hated you in that moment. He looked up at you, completely spent. He tried to say something…but no words came out.
He glared at you. “…Yer gonna be so fuckin’ sorry fer that, darlin’.”
You weren’t impressed by his threat. You sat back calmly. Seeing him on his back like that, so helpless, filled you with complete satisfaction. You looked down at him, a smirk on your face. “Oh really, you’re gonna turn the tables on me now, are you ? Just a few moments ago you were pleading me for even one more little inch of me. So tell me, vampire, how exactly are you going to take your big revenge ?”
He suddenly pounced on you. He pushed you down on the bed with his body, pinning you underneath him. He was so angry, that animalistic look back on his face. His fangs were bared, and his face was mere inches from yours. He was glaring down at you, his breath labored, and he was still trembling. But then, his eyes went down and he grinned.
“Let’s see if ya like that, mo shíorghra…”
He then went straight between your legs and before you could stop him, he licked a strip. You gasped from surprise, and then tried to squirm away. You should’ve seen this coming, and yet you were caught completely off guard. You tried to push his face away, but he didn’t budge. He was pinning your thighs to the bed, and there was no way you could escape as his tongue pried you open. You had felt powerful up until this point, but now he was showing you how much that was an illusion. He wasn’t begging anymore. He was going to do whatever it took to show you just how little control you really had and that whatever control you had over him was because he allowed it. He looked up at you with those dark eyes and gave you a fiendish smile. You felt a shiver go up your spine, and you couldn’t look away from his gaze. He was gloating, enjoying every moment of this. You felt his hands tracing up your thighs, and then he pushed your legs even further apart.
“That’s it…just like that…spreadin’ yerself nice and open fer me, darlin’…Lemme show ye a good time.”
You tried to close your legs, but he held you in place…You were slowly realizing you had maybe bitten off more than you could chew. He then looked up at you from between your legs, and his eyes were so dark. All the meekness from before was gone. He was in control now, and there was nothing you could do about it.
“M’gonna take me time with ye, darlin’…” He grabbed your thighs and lifted them on his shoulders. “Now gimme everythin’ and don’t hold back. I’ll know.”
You looked down and saw him staring up at you with that intense gaze. It was a look of pure hunger, as if he had gone centuries without having enough to eat. You tried to control your breathing, tried to keep your composure, but you couldn’t. Your legs were shaking, and you gripped the sheets. He was powerful…he was dangerous…and he had you praying for your salvation. He held onto your legs, keeping you steady as he slowly ran his tongue over your lower lips. His eyes were locked onto yours the whole time, and you felt gooseflesh go up your body just from the feeling of his tongue. He ran it across your skin, leaving a trail of damp heat and you bit your arm to stop the screams.
He then chuckled.
“All those memories in me head of sex and tastes and sensations…But ye know what ? You’re the first person I’ll be able to use me new skills on.” He looked up at you and his eyes lit up. “…Or ye would like someone else ? Is this body attractive enough to ye, baby ? I could always ask fer another…Stack is rather handsome. Bo as well…We’re all the same. We’re all part of the hive. I could ask them. They wouldn’t mind.”
You had so many thoughts running through your mind. You couldn’t even begin to process this. He was a monster…he was a vampire…but he was also making you feel a lot of things at the moment…and your body would not let you forget that. You felt your heartbeat getting faster, your temperature going up. He knew he was getting to you. He could probably smell it. Then why ? Why would he ask this ?
You looked down and saw the way he was looking at you. Then it hit you. Remmick had lived a long life, but his body would never change—not really. He was short, pale and sickly-looking. He had mentioned that he had tried to attract ‘warm ones’ before with no success. So perhaps in the past his mistresses had asked him for favours such as this. But you did not want to. You shook your head. “…No. I…don’t want another…I want you.”
He looked up at you, a slight surprise on his face. He wasn’t expecting to hear that. “Oh ?”
He was still holding on to your thighs. He was trying to keep his composure, but this time, you had surprised him. He stayed there, his expression curious. You stared into his eyes—panting. He stared back at you, his expression slightly unsure. He was supposed to be in control now…he had you right where he wanted you…but then you had to go and say something like that. He studied your face, looking for some hint of a lie, some hint that you were just telling him what he wanted to head. But he found none. You meant what you said.
For a moment, his smile seemed genuine as he gave it to you before he decided to suck and lick on your nub to make you come. He wanted to see what other sounds he could pull from your mouth. You had surprised him, and it made him hungry for more. He was getting more and more aggressive now, his tongue working over your skin with an inhumane intensity.
You couldn’t take this much longer. Your body was trembling, your mind was going blank…
Meanwhile, Remmick was putting the effort to get you there. He had never had anyone want this body—his body. He had tried to get the warm women to look his way—but this body never seemed to interest them. But you…You writhed under him, your body trembling as he continued to lick and suck. He knew just the right spots to touch, just the right tempo to make you lose your mind. He was driving you to ecstasy…and you didn’t care about anything else. You wanted more, more…You felt yourself teetering on the edge. You were so close, you just needed a little more. You were getting lost in the pleasure he was driving you into. It was all you could think about…He wanted you so badly…and he wanted to watch you come apart.
“C’mon, me pet. C’mon.” He encouraged you. Every brush of his tongue was like a jolt of electricity, taking you higher and higher…you couldn’t take much more. He was pushing you to your limit…he was so good at this. So good…it was like he was made for this. Your hand found itself in his hair. Not to grip, but to wordlessly stroke his dark curls…
He gasped, clearly not expecting that. He looked up at you, a small moan escaping as you ran your hand through his hair. It was such an intimate gesture, so unexpected…he almost lost his focus for a moment and looked up at you to ask again. “…Lemme in. Lemme in, me darlin’.”
His voice was like honey…and it was going straight to your brain. You knew what he was doing to you. He was trying to break you down…to get you to do what he wants. He was trying to make you give in to your primal instincts, ignoring consequences. He kissed your inner thigh.
“…Grá mo chroí. Gimme a home between yer legs. Please.”
You felt another rush of heat at his words. His accent, coupled with that honeyed voice, was like a spell. He knew he had you…he could smell your arousal, and it was driving him wild. His tongue continued to assault you, making you delirious. He was trying to break you down, to get you to throw away all sense of reason.
He looked up at you with those dark eyes.
“…Say ‘yes.’ Just say it. Invite me in, me darlin’.”
His command was like a shot of adrenaline… your mind was screaming to say no…but your body was begging for more. You could feel yourself coming undone. You knew if you said no, he would stop, and the thought filled you with frustration. His licks were getting more deliberate, more demanding. He knew exactly how to work you up, how to break you down. It was like he was playing a symphony, and your body was his instrument.
He looked up at you with those dark eyes, and you could see the hunger in them. He growled, his voice raw with need. “Say it.”
You felt like you were losing your mind. His licks and his touches…his voice…all of it was driving you mad. You were so close…you couldn’t think straight anymore. You felt the words leave your lips before you could stop them.
“Yes ! Yes…”
You heard a low, victorious chuckle come from his throat. He knew he had won. He couldn’t believe that he had actually got you to say yes…he had finally broken you down. He had a satisfied look on his face, an expression of sheer triumph. He was finally getting what he wanted. And he wasn’t gonna waste it. His tongue thrust into you and you cried out in pleasure. Your body was his now, and nothing could stop him. He was no longer asking permission. He was going to have you, in every way possible. His eyes were almost glowing with hunger, looking like that of a wild animal. You felt like he was about to eat you alive.
His hands were gripping your thighs with such strength, it almost hurt. His fingers would probably leave bruises, but you didn’t care. You wanted this…you needed this.
His eyes shone wickedly, and you could see a hint of the animal inside him. This was an older, darker part of himself. Once you came, he did not stop. He kept shoving his tongue inside you…collecting the blood from your broken hymen. When you felt his tongue finally slide out of you, you let out a gasp. You were so overwhelmed, so sensitive…you didn't think you could handle any more.
But he wasn't finished with you yet.
He looked up at you, his mouth glistening with your juices. His expression was dark, almost feral. There was a hunger in him that wouldn't be satisfied…a hunger that wouldn't be sated, no matter how much he took from you.
He climbed up your body to face you completely.
“Táim ag dul chun do scriosadh…” He smirked before slowly entering you. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and you gasped. You felt him slide inside you, and it was like nothing you could have imagined. He filled you completely, and it felt so good…so right. His head fell into the crook of your neck as he tried to be slow and steady. He was trying to control himself, trying to keep it together…but it was obvious it was taking everything he had. The same words were whispered into your ear, low and rough. “Táim…ag dul chun do scriosadh, mo shíorghra.”
Once he was all the way inside you, he started moving, slowly at first, but his pace quickened with each stroke as drool ran down his chin and he closed his eyes. He was enjoying himself and it showed. He was taking his time, enjoying the feeling of being inside you. He was still trying to be gentle, but he couldn’t hold back anymore. He was getting rougher with each movement. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, and you could hear him murmuring things in his language that you couldn’t quite make out.
Then you heard him bite out the words, “I'm going to destroy you, me sweet one. Yer life is no longer yers. I’m goin’ to take yer life and ye will be here with me ‘till yer soul no longer goes up to the heavens without me corpse…wrapped around ya.”
He was getting more desperate now, his pace picking up…he was losing any self-control he had left. He was murmuring in his native tongue…a stream of words and curses you couldn't understand. But you could still make out the way he was calling you ‘m'aingeal’ and you could hear the way he said ‘ag dul chun do scriosadh’ repeatedly. He grabbed on to you, his fingers leaving marks all over you. He was losing himself in you. And that’s where you heard it…He growled and whimpered like an animal when he came deep inside you. He nuzzled your neck and his mouth opened. He wanted to bite you…but he restrained himself and only kissed your skin instead.
You came alongside him and you thought you might pass out. He was breathing heavily now, trying to catch his breath. He was still buried deep inside you, and you could feel his heart pounding. It was a strange feeling, hearing his heart beating—and then you realised it was yours you were hearing.
He then let out a low laugh, like he couldn’t believe what he had done. It was like he had just discovered fire, and now he didn’t know if he should use it, or if he should put it out.
“Mo chuisle…” He called you, and it was like a confession. But you knew better. You hesitated before flattening his hair to the side to look into his eyes. He swallowed heavily, his expression filled with confusion. You had broken the spell, and now he was slowly coming back to himself. It was like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. But you could see the hint of darkness still lurking behind his expression, like a shadow just lurking around the edges of his mind.
You smiled and felt tears in your eyes. “You were meant to be beautiful…Remmick.”
He looked at you, surprised at the tears in your eyes. His expression softened, and he took your face in his hand.
“Are ye cryin’ fer me, darlin’ ?” He asked, and there was a hint of shock in his voice…as if he never thought someone would cry over him before. Your heart squeezed in your chest.
“You look so young…You love music…You love to be loved. But you were so lonely…You could have been so wonderful. But then…All that changed…because you wished to have a family again.” You sighed and pressed your forehead against his. “…I am sure your heart used to be so full.”
He was taken aback by your words, and he looked at you with surprise—almost fear. It was like you had looked deep into his heart and seen things that he had hoped no one would ever know. He was speechless, completely caught off guard…he didn’t know what to say…He swallowed heavily, his face twisted by an emotion you couldn’t name. He didn't know what to make of you…you had seen so much…you understood so much. It was unsettling and comforting all at once…
He took a deep, shaky breath, and he managed to croak out a word.
“…Darlin’…”
You stroked his cheek.
“…To the ones who made you decide to change, I wish an eternity in hell for taking a bright light away from this world. I have never met a man like you. And yet, your way of seeing your hive as a family, caring for your children as you do, singing and dancing…I know you used to be so beautiful. And it hurts me to know that nobody had the courage to see you as such and to tell you.”
His eyes locked onto yours. He let out a low breath, and the words came out of him like a whisper.
“…But I am still beautiful…right, me chuisle ?”
You hesitated. He was watching you closely, waiting for your answer. His face was still so close to yours, and he was still holding onto you. He seemed almost desperate…like he needed you to say he was beautiful. There was a moment of silence, and he finally spoke again.
“…Darlin’…Please. Call me beautiful.”
Your eyes watered. “I wish I could…Parts of you are still beautiful but…”
His face fell, and his expression darkened. You saw the hurt in his eyes, the hurt from centuries of loneliness, of rejection, of being seen as a monster. He was silent, trying to hide his emotions. He looked away, and the moment was gone. But still…he was clinging on to you, like a drowning man holds on to driftwood.
You couldn’t help but hold him too.
“…It would be so easy to hate you. So easy. But at the same time, it would feel so wrong. For I know it is not entirely your fault that you are the way you are.”
He let you hold him, his face pressed into your neck. He was still trembling, his breathing ragged. He was in a state of shock. He had been shattered, stripped down to his foundation…and now he was a mess. He inhaled deeply, relishing the smell of you…he took comfort in your gentle touch. You looked at him, and you saw just how broken he was. It was like you held this wild creature in your arms, and suddenly he was just…broken. He was a wreck…he needed comfort, but he had been so alone for so long, that he couldn't even let himself ask for it.
His words came out as a shaky whisper, and he was holding you for dear life.
“Ye should not say such things to me…I should turn ye fer sayin’ them.”
You stared at him, and you saw the anguish in his eyes. He looked like he was at war with himself, the monster and the man fighting for control. And suddenly, you realized something. He was begging for an excuse to let go. He was holding on as long as he could, but you could see the battle he was fighting. You saw the man who had lived for over half a millennia…the man who had seen so much, and lived through things that should have killed him.
You saw a glimpse of the tortured soul behind the monster. You could see the torment he was going through, the internal struggle he was trying to contain. His body was so tense, every muscle wound up tight, his eyes staring at you with a desperation you had never seen before. He wanted a way out. All he had to do…was give in to his baser impulses. And just…bite you. You were just here. He knew you had no way to resist. You could see the pain behind his eyes, the torment of the conflict raging inside of him. He was trying so hard to hold himself back…he was trying to fight the urge, but it was getting harder and harder. He let out a low moan, sounding tortured. Every muscle in his body was tense, his body shaking with the effort of holding back. He wanted to bite you. He needed to feed. You were right there…he could do it.
Your heart sped up, and you could feel the tension in the air. He was so close, and you knew if he lost control, there would be no stopping him. He let out a ragged breath, and his eyes had that feral look in them.
He looked at you…and you saw the look in his eyes was predatory. “…Tell me one reason…why I shouldn’t turn ye…”
You smiled sadly at him. “If I was a part of your hive…my soul would go. And I would be just like any other of your children…hollow. My blood would be gone, and so would be my humanity.”
He let out a breath, and you could see the moment he realized you were right. He knew what it meant to turn you. He knew it would consume you—body, mind, and soul. He was left with the reality of the situation….what he wanted, and what he could not have. He suddenly snarled and stood back up.
“I need to feed. Stay here. Do not leave this room !”
He turned away, got his clothes back on and you could see the anger suddenly consume him. He was furious. At himself, at you, at the whole situation. It was like a switch had flipped. He no longer looked human.
He made his way to the door, and he paused before passing through. It seemed like he was about to tell you something, but reconsidered. The door slammed behind him, and you were left with your thoughts. You laid down on the bed and started fidgeting.
Was that your life now ?
———————————————————————
You were left in that dark room…alone with your thoughts. You tried laying down on the bed, but you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position. Your mind was racing, your feelings all jumbled up. You felt completely overwhelmed. You hadn’t even known him for more than a few weeks, and yet your life had completely changed. You tried to take a deep breath and relax, but you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about what had just happened…and what it all could mean.
You suddenly heard screams…You covered your ears and tried not to cry.
You sat there in the dark, trying to ignore the horrible sounds outside. You wanted to tell yourself it was just your imagination…but you couldn’t stop hearing the desperate wails, and it was making you nauseous. You tried to drown out the sound, but they seemed to be everywhere. You pulled the pillows over your head, trying to block out the terrible sounds. You tried to remind yourself that you were safe here, in the room where he had left you. But you could still hear the screams…you could imagine what he was doing to whoever he was feeding on…Once he was fed, you heard the door opening behind you. He stood there. You didn’t turn around. You knew what you would see…
He was quiet, and you could feel his eyes on your back. There was silence…and you knew that he was watching you. You could vaguely smell the metallic scent of fresh blood…but you were afraid to turn around. You didn’t want to see what had happened, what he had done.
He spoke up, and his voice seemed quieter…almost tender.
“Darlin’…turn around.”
You didn’t and replied dismissively. “I am…tired. I think I will go to sleep now.”
He let out a low chuckle and walked closer, the sound of his footsteps getting louder.
“That right ?” he said, and you could hear the amusement in his voice. “Don’t ye have any other words fer me, darlin’..? C’mon. The night’s still young. And I just got a burst of energy that I wanna spend ALL on ye."
You could feel him sitting down on the bed, and the weight of the mattress shifted underneath him. He laid down next to you, and the smell of blood got stronger. His hands were on your waist, and he curled himself up against your back. He was so close…You restrained the nausea that suddenly took over you and the need to throw up. He was holding you from behind, and he had now wrapped his arms around you.
“Mmmm…y’smell so sweet…” he murmured appreciatively. “…like honeysuckle and sunshine…”
You could feel his body pressed up against you. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer. His hand found your hair, and he curled his fingers in it. His other hand was trailing up your side, and his touch sent a shiver down your spine.
“How about a second round, mo chuisle ? I am suddenly feelin’…extra affectionate.”
When you didn’t answer, he took offense and frowned.
“Don’t be silent now, me darlin’. Speak t’me…tell me what ye thinkin’ about at least…” Your breath caught in your throat, and you suddenly felt the urge to turn around. His hand was still in your hair, gently tugging at your locks/strands/curls. He was stroking your face with the other…and you could feel something hard and…substantial against your hip. “…Or maybe I should tell ya what I am thinkin’ about ?”
He was getting more and more handsy. His fingers were trailing over your body, tracing over your curves. He was holding you tight, his face buried into your neck. He was starting to kiss you, leaving a trail of hot kisses on your skin. One of his hands was tenderly fondling your breast. His hand found your jaw, and he gently twisted it to the right, so your head was facing him. He moved in and kissed you. But this time, his mouth was open, and his tongue was pushing past your lips. You were taken aback and the taste of blood made you physically recoil and gag. He seemed amused by this reaction, his hand on your chin preventing you from turning your face away. He broke away from the kiss, but he was still holding you there.
“What ? Ain’t me kisses to yer likin’ anymore, darlin’…? They seemed to suit ye just fine earlier.”
You could taste the coppery flavor of blood in your mouth. “Remmick. Remmick please…I do not like the taste.”
His expression darkened as you said that, and he seemed to get annoyed. “Yer tellin’ me no…?”
He looked down at you, his eyes blazing. “Ain’t I got the right t’kiss ye how I want ?”
You winced. “The taste…Please. Just wash your face.”
He looked down at you, his expression hardening. He was clearly annoyed, and he took a moment to breathe deeply. He sat up and got off of you. He seemed angry, and he stood there for a moment, his body tense.
He was quiet for a moment, and then he just left the room. You heard the faucet in the bathroom turn on. You sighed in relief. You heard the water running in the bathroom, and you could finally relax. You sat on the bed, trying to collect your thoughts. Your mind was still reeling from what had happened. You spat in a bassin nearby…He then came back from the bathroom, his face looking clean enough.
“How do I look now, me darlin’ ?” He asked with a smile.
You tried to keep your expression neutral. You still had the bitter aftertaste of blood in your mouth, and it was making you feel sick.
“…Fine. You look fine.”
His grin widened and he took a few dancing steps forward—a clumsy attempt to make you laugh. He was trying to be light-hearted, and it somehow worked a little. You couldn’t help but let out a smile…He suddenly stopped, noticing that you smiled at him. But then he smiled again and grabbed his fiddle to start a song.
“In the emerald fields, where our love's tale begins, Where the green rolling hills lead all hearts to mend, I found my home in my true love’s embrace, In the land of Ireland, beyond time and space.
Oh, Irish love a flame that forever glows, With a passion to vanquish all gallant foes, In the warmth of your touch, my soul is reborn, Our love, like Ireland, forever adorned.
Underneath the moonlit sky the banshee may wail, But we pay no mind as we dance through the gale Whispers of love carried on the Irish breeze, Our spirits more wild than tempestuous seas…”
You couldn't help but smile at his words…his singing was rough and a little off key, but it was charming in its own way. You could hear the passion in his voice, and you realized that this was something he loved.
He took your breath away, the way he sang to you. The song was a mixture of sweet and wild…it was like hearing the voice of the Irish landscape singing through him. It was beautiful, and it was strange…like a song that touches your very heart.
He continued as he danced around the room and smiled.
“…Through the fields of Athenry, we'll wander hand in hand, Where British army soldiers no more will walk this land Our love it will endure, through battles fierce and long My life is yours forever more, through conflict I’ll be strong
Oh, Irish love a flame that forever glows, With a passion to vanquish all gallant foes, In the warmth of your touch, my soul is reborn, Our love, like Ireland, forever adorned.
But now I must bid thee a lover’s goodbye To battle I go for to free Erin’s Isle Our hearts, my love, always aligned In this Irish love song, forever enshrined.”
He was singing with passion and dancing in tandem. He was in his element, and it was clear that he loved being able to perform for you. He was a completely different person when he was dancing and singing…it was like he was completely lost in the moment. Every movement seemed to be filled with joy. He was completely in the moment, fully alive, like his very soul was being filled with happiness.
Seeing him like this…it was beautiful. There was a light in his eyes that was breathtaking. You felt your heart open up at that moment, as you watched him give into the music and let himself be completely happy. It was so unlike the dark, dangerous man you had seen just moments before. It was like two different people…but the same.
Tears fell from your eyes as he sang, not because you were sad, but because you were moved by the beauty of his words. You could feel the deepness and the pain of the lyrics, and you realized that this song was a part of him.
He finished singing, and he looked at you with a look of deep affection. He looked like he couldn’t believe that you were there, listening to him. He walked over to you and took your face in his hand.
“Look at ye, lassie. Cryin’ over a lil’ song meant to cheer ye up ! Silly filly…”
You tried to laugh and wipe the tears from your eyes. It was true. You were crying over his song. It was just a song…but it seemed like so much more than that. He sat down next to you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. He kissed the top of your head, and he rested his chin there.
“…Me darlin’ lassie…did I get to ye ? Forgive me. ‘Twas just a song.” There was affection in his voice…a tenderness to his touch…it was so different from the way he had acted before. “…Yer tears ain’t what I was lookin’ for, darlin’. I ain’t here to make ye sad. What should I do, then…to get ye smilin’ at me again, hmm ?”
You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. It was such a silly question…You looked up at him and smiled.
“…Just sing me another song, okay ?”
There was a light in his eyes at the sound of your laughter. He was relieved. You could feel his body relaxing as he held you, as if he had been wanting to hear your laugh the entire time. He gave you a sly grin, and he ran his hand over your hair.
“Another song, eh ? Ye liked that one so much that ya want another ?” He pretended to think about it before grinning. “A’right ! But this time, I want ye to sing long ! Lemme hear yer pretty voice…”
You gave a bashful laugh, wiping the lingering tears from your cheeks. “Sing along ?” you echoed, your voice still a little shaky from the wave of emotions. “I don’t even know the words…”
He scoffed playfully, sitting upright with a dramatic gasp. “Then I s’pose I’ll have to teach ye, won’t I ?” He gave the fiddle a little tune, plucking a few strings and humming thoughtfully as he worked out a melody.
“You’ll catch on quick,” he promised with a wink. “It’s just a bit o’ nonsense…but I promise it’ll stick.”
And then, with a little flourish and a grin like a devil on a mission, he launched into the next tune—faster this time, jauntier. A playful rhythm that felt like springtime in a pub full of laughter and spilled ale.
“Oh, I met a bonnie lass down by the shore, She said, ‘Sing for me once and I’ll ask for no more !’ So I sang her a song, and I danced her a reel, And now she’s stolen my heart like a thief in the field !”
He pointed to you on the last line, waggling his brows dramatically, and you laughed out loud before you could stop yourself.
“Ohhh the lass with the eyes like the sea after storm, Her temper is fierce, but her heart’s kind and warm ! If she’d let me, I’d kiss her and call her me bride, But she’s likely to punch me and run off to hide !”
You burst into a fit of giggles, covering your mouth, and he looked delighted beyond words. His eyes sparkled as he leaned in close, coaxing you with his grin.
“C’mon, lass. Join me on the chorus. It’s easy !”
He slowed just enough for you to follow.
“So hey-ho, my wild Irish rose, With cheeks like fire and fists like blows, I’ll love her ‘til my dyin’ day, If she don’t chase me away !”
You sang the last line with him—nervously, out of tune, but with laughter catching in your throat. He beamed like a fool, proud as ever.
“See ? That’s it !” He winked again, this time more gently, brushing your hair from your face as the final note died off.
You looked up at him, cheeks warm from singing, from laughing, from feeling again. And for a long moment, the two of you just sat there, close and quiet. Something delicate hung in the air between you—soft as lace and just as easily torn.
He tilted his head, eyes roaming your face like he was memorizing you. “Y’know,” he murmured, voice low now, “I think I like this version of ye best. All lit up and laughin’.”
Your breath caught slightly at the honesty in his tone. You reached for his hand—tentative, unsure—but he met you halfway and laced his fingers through yours. He then pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours, his free hand still holding the fiddle between you. And outside, the world was quiet. Just the faint hum of the night and the echo of his song still lingering in the corners of the room.
He couldn’t believe how beautiful this was—this moment. He slowly put his hand on your waist. He was looking at you like he was seeing you for the first time. He whispered words in Gaelic, but his voice was soft and it was like he was just speaking to himself. You couldn’t understand what he was saying. The language was unfamiliar to you, but the way he said it…it was as if he was speaking a prayer.
He was looking at you with a different look in his eyes. He kept his hand on your waist, and he gently pulled you closer, putting his other hand on your chin and tilting your face up to his.
He leaned in and gently captured your mouth in his, and the kiss was so tender.
You closed your eyes. The kiss was soft, like he was scared you might break if he pressed too hard. It was a completely different kiss from the ones he had given you before. It was careful and thoughtful, like touching something precious and delicate. He was gently cradling your face in his hand, and tracing your features with his fingertips.
“Yer mine, right lassie ?”
You looked up at him, completely stunned by the pleading tone in his voice. His dark eyes were boring into you, and he was waiting for you to respond.
But then he pressed gently on your waist with his hand—insisting. “Right ?”
Your eyes fluttered and you suddenly had a moment of clarity. What was happening to you ? You had been kidnapped just nights before, and now…you were in the arms of the monster who had stolen your life away. And yet, you couldn’t seem to find the will to deny him.
You swallowed heavily and looked straight into his eyes as you finally replied. “Yes, I am.”
He let out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes, like he was thanking the universe for its gift. His hand was still on your chin, and he held you there for a moment, like he was savoring the moment. He then smiled and kissed your jaw.
Synopsis: You are learning what being a pet in the hive means and start getting close to Remmick—a little too close.
Warning: Suggestive. Not actual smut but it’s getting there…Also Remmick is a manipulative touch-starved creep who doesn’t know the meaning of personal space. And he likes virgins. Because hell, a lot of vampires seem to like them for some reason ? Also death of a minor character. Again. Because he is a vampire and likes blood. 😂👍
Irish Gaelic language used:
Dún do bhéal : Shut your mouth
Part 2 here: https://www.tumblr.com/dark-fanfics-moon/783200868262707200/the-pet-remmick-x-reader?source=share
The soft clinking of the pebbles hitting the box echoed in the quiet stillness of the night as you kept gathering said pebbles and throwing them against Remmick’s bed-coffin. The sun had lowered. You had been waiting all day for him to wake up. What was taking him so long ? All the other vampires were up and about since almost an hour ago. However, you then heard noise inside and quickly froze, heart pounding, immediately regretting your decision. The thought of actually waking up Remmick, sent a jolt of panic through your veins. He was unpredictable, and his temper was not something you wanted to test.
You leaned back, hoping that the disturbance had gone unnoticed. But then, the thought lingered: What if he was really asleep ? You couldn’t resist knocking on the box, testing the waters to see if he would respond.
The knock was gentle, just a tap, and the silence stretched long in the air. You held your breath, listening for any sound. The sun was high in the sky, and you were almost certain that Remmick would be asleep.
But just as you were about to back away, you heard it. A faint groan. A soft rustle from within the box. Your breath caught in your throat.
Shit. He was awake.
From inside the box, Remmick’s voice slurred with sleep and irritation. “What’re you doin’, doll ? Disturbing a man’s rest ?”
You bit your lip, glancing at the box warily. He was clearly not as deep in sleep as you had hoped.
“I…I didn’t mean to wake you,” you muttered, your voice betraying the faintest hint of anxiety. A long pause followed. The sound of shifting in the box made your stomach twist. Then, slowly, Remmick’s voice came again, laced with amusement but still carrying that hint of sleepiness.
“Well, you’ve done it now. Can’t get back to sleep once you’ve been woken up, now, can I ?” He let out a dramatic sigh, and for a moment, you wondered if he was just playing with you. But then, you heard the scrape of the box opening.
You took an involuntary step back, your mind racing with a thousand possibilities of what he might do. Would he yell ? Attack you ? Laugh it off ? Or maybe…maybe he would just come out and tease you like he usually did. But when Remmick emerged from the box, there was none of the usual predatory energy. He was disheveled, his hair tousled from sleep, his clothes rumpled and clear exhaustion in his eyes.
He stretched and sighed again. “That’s what I get for sleepin’ over the usual time and leavin’ me poor pet bored stiff,” he muttered, his voice thick with drowsiness. His gaze flickered to you, and the usual mischievous glint returned, though it was muted by the lingering heaviness of sleep.
“You’re lucky I don’t hold a grudge for interruptions,” he added with a smirk, though there was no real malice in it. His eyes then softened a little, studying you with a hint of curiosity. “What’s got ye so upset that ye had to start throwin’ rocks at me box, eh ?”
“Just…passing time,” you replied dismissively, avoiding his gaze. You didn’t know why you felt so off-balance around him all of a sudden. Was it because of last night ?
He chuckled, low and sleepy-sounding. “Ah. Ye wanted me attention, pet ? Coulda just asked.”
His words hung in the air, not threatening, not teasing—just a simple observation. And for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel the familiar weight of fear settle over you. You glanced at him, noticing the odd softness in his expression as he tilted his head.
“You should try and get some sleep yerself, doll,” he then advised you, stretching again and stifling a yawn. “Not gonna be happy if ye start sleepin’ when I want some entertainment.”
The words were typical Remmick and yet, you couldn’t help but notice that he too had slightly changed in his treatment of you. You weren’t sure what had changed exactly, but you found yourself more willing to stay. Even if just for a moment longer. You then thought about your family. You hadn’t yet told your brother that you were alive. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was worth asking him. Remmick wasn’t exactly the easiest person to make requests of, but the thought of reaching out to your brother, even through the confines of your strange captivity, gave you hope. Something to hold onto, even if just for a short while.
You glanced over at Remmick, still half-drowsy from his long nap. He had moved away from the box now, stretching languidly and letting out a quiet yawn. You found yourself comparing him to a cat…lazy and with sharp fangs to bite made obvious through the simple act of yawning. You figured this might be the only time to ask without facing one of his moods.
“Remmick,” you called out softly, trying to sound casual, though you felt the knot of unease in your stomach. “Could I…could I have a quill, ink, and some paper ? I want to write to my brother.”
For a moment, he didn’t respond, and you wondered if he’d heard you at all. Then, slowly, his gaze flickered over to you, his eyebrows rising in amusement.
“Yer brother ?” He repeated, a slow smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Ye think I’m—what—some sort of delivery boy ?”
You bit your lip, feeling the weight of his sarcasm, but you held your ground. “Please. I just…I need to let him know I’m okay. Or at least…let him know I’m still alive.”
The request hung in the air and you knew you were walking a fine line. You weren’t sure what Remmick would make of it, but his expression softened, just a little, his eyes flickering toward the ground for a moment. He took a slow step towards you, his boots making a soft thud against the ground as he paused in front of you. His fingers drummed lightly against his leg as he thought, then, with a small shrug, he spoke again.
“A’right, pet,” he finally indulged. “I’ll get all that fer ye.”
You blinked in surprise and smiled hopefully. “You’ll actually get it ?”
He gave a low chuckle and nodded. “I ain’t heartless. Just don’t go askin’ fer too much now, or I might lose me patience.”
Before you could reply, he was already moving towards the back of the trailer, rummaging through a box of discarded items. You waited, half-expecting him to change his mind, but a few moments later, he emerged holding the quill, ink, and some crumpled pieces of paper.
“Don’t be too long with it,” he instructed.
You took the materials from him with a small nod, trying to hide your surprise at how easily he had agreed. As he walked away, you set the paper down on the ground, holding the quill carefully as you began to write, wondering if your brother would ever even get the message you were about to send. A few minutes later, you had just finished the final stroke of your signature when you felt a sudden tug on the paper. You looked up in surprise, only to see Remmick standing there, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he swiftly snatched the page from your hands.
“Hey !” you protested, reaching out for it, but he held it just out of your grasp. His gaze flicked down to the page, scrutinizing the words you had written, his eyes narrowing as he read. For a moment, you could feel the tension in the air as he examined the letter thoroughly, looking for anything that might give him reason to be suspicious. His sharp gaze skimmed the paper as if he were looking for something specific, his posture still and calculating.
“So ?” You finally asked.
Remmick didn’t respond right away. Instead, he flipped the page over and tapped it against his palm, his smirk widening as he took in your words. After what felt like an eternity, he finally looked up at you.
“Nothin’ about me in here,” he mused, his tone darkly amused and poked your nose playfully. “Ye really gonna keep yer word, doll ? Not gonna snitch on the new lil’ life ye got here with me ?”
You clenched your jaw, watching as he carefully folded the paper. “I told you, I wasn’t going to write anything that would cause you trouble. It’s just a letter to my brother, to reassure him.”
He gave a low chuckle, tucking the page into his coat pocket alongside the envelope with the address. “I don’t trust a damn thing you write, especially if it’s to someone ye care about. But I’ll let ye keep your lil’ fantasy for now.”
You wanted to protest, but the look in his eyes told you that it would be pointless. Remmick wasn’t the type to let anything slip past him, and now, he had control over even your most personal thoughts. You glared at him, but the knot of helplessness in your stomach tightened as you realized there was nothing you could do to change his mind.
Remmick leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Now, be a good lass and stay put, a’right ?”
You felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise at the tone of his voice, but there was nothing you could do as he sauntered away, the stolen letter safely tucked away in his pocket.
When he had his back to you, you couldn’t help but flip him off.
“Douchebag.”
He laughed in response and suddenly flew away. Probably to get himself dinner…You shivered at the thought and sat back down.
A few hours later:
It had been hours and Remmick still hadn’t come back from his hunt. What was he doing ? You weren’t worried for that idiot. Of course not. But then…You watched Remmick as he staggered back into the camp, his usual confidence replaced by a strained expression. Blood matted his clothes, dark and thick. He moved slower than usual, his steps uneven, and you could hear the soft groan of pain that escaped him with each movement. You immediately approached, concern overtaking your natural instinct to keep your distance.
“What happened ?” you asked, voice laced with worry. You had a hard time hiding the flicker of anxiety in your chest as you noticed the deep gashes along his arms and chest, the bruises already beginning to swell around the cuts. Remmick’s face was pale and he leaned heavily against the trailer, taking a deep breath as if trying to steady himself. “A bunch of hunters…near the market,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “Tried to get the drop on me. Didn’t go so well for them.”
You frowned, glancing at him suspiciously. “What were you doing in town ?”
Remmick didn’t respond immediately, his eyes narrowing, as though he was carefully choosing his words—or thinking of an excuse to give you. Then, after a long moment, he simply shrugged, but you could tell something was off. It was as if he was hiding something, though you weren’t sure exactly what. But then, you thought back on the letter you had written earlier. He had also taken the envelope with him. Surely—it wasn’t to…The thought that gnawed at you, that prickled the back of your mind, was that he had gone to post your letter to your brother. But you shook your head. Right…As if Remmick would ever do that for you.
Before you could say anything more, Remmick collapsed to the ground and you stepped closer to him, eyes studying his injuries. The wounds weren’t deep enough to be life-threatening, but still he looked in a pitiful shape. He had blood smeared on his hands, and there was a cut across his cheek that seemed particularly raw and a big hole in his chest. You winced and knelt down next to him. He looked up slightly.
“What are ye d—?”
“Lemme see,” you cut his question off, surprising even yourself with the calm authority in your voice. You’d never taken care of someone like this before—not someone like him, anyway. But there was something about the way he looked at you, his expression a mix of frustration and pain, that made you act without thinking. He hesitated for a moment, glaring defensively at you, but the exhaustion seemed to weigh too heavily on him. With a low grunt, he relented, allowing you to gently push his clothes aside to examine the worst of the injuries.
“Don’t think I’ll thank ye fer this,” he muttered and you ignored the comment, focusing instead on the task at hand. You tore a strip of cloth from your own clothes and, using it as a makeshift bandage, began cleaning the worst of the wounds on his arms and trying to stop the blood from flowing out. He was unusually quiet and you glanced up at him to find his eyes staring at you suspiciously.
“Don’t be scared. I’m not going to bite you,” you told him after a long moment of silence and smiled. “You can relax.”
Remmick’s lips twisted in a faint, humorless grin. “What ? Ye tellin’ me ye doin’ this out of the goodness of yer heart, darlin’ ? Besides, I ain’t scared. I’m just used to being the one who’s in charge of things and I ain’t ever been cared for by me own pet before. ’S new to me s’all.”
You didn’t answer…There was no answer you could give him that would justify you tending to him.
“Just hold still,” you instructed, your voice firm yet gentle as you carefully wrapped a clean strip of cloth around his arm and another around his waist. You could feel his gaze on you, and you dared not look up at him again. Something about the way he was watching you made your skin prickle, but you pushed the thought aside. You continued working in silence, taking care to be gentle with his injuries. Finally, you stepped back to survey your work.
“That should help,” you concluded, finally glancing up at him. “Don’t move around too much for a while. The bleeding should stop soon.”
Remmick gave a small, sharp nod but didn’t say anything for a long while.
“Thank ye,” he reluctantly said after a moment, the words sounding strange coming from him.
You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden shift. “Right. Whatever,” you replied, though there was no real sting in your words.
Remmick gave you a sharp look, but there was no real heat behind it either, just a quiet acknowledgment. The air between you both felt different, but not in a bad way. You couldn’t decide what it was—maybe it was just that he seemed slightly more human now, more…breakable, in a way that made you think, maybe he wasn’t as untouchable as he liked to pretend.
But then again, it could all just be part of the act…
“Get some rest,” you added, your voice firmer this time as you began to step away.
He looked at you, his lips curling into a half-smirk. “Don’t ye worry about me, doll. I’ll survive.”
You didn’t trust the nonchalant tone, but you nodded nonetheless. With that, you turned around, heading back to the shadows where you usually stayed. You sat where you always did—back straight, chained like an obedient creature beside the trailer’s wheel. You had done your part—you had helped him—and that was something Remmick likely hadn’t expected. Neither had you to be honest. The firelight flickered in the distance, casting shadows that danced on the wood around you, but you didn’t move. You’d learned not to.
After the bleeding had stopped and he had gotten some rest, Remmick stepped out into the cold night air with his usual effortless grace, stretching like a cat fresh from slumber. His eyes scanned the area until they landed on you, and for a moment, you thought he might simply walk past without a word. He often did. But tonight, he didn’t.
Slowly, casually, he made his way over. You tensed a little when he crouched beside you, his hands working at the iron shackle around your ankle without a word. The click of the lock releasing startled you more than it should have.
You blinked, eyes snapping to his face. “What—?”
He didn’t let you finish. With a smug little grin, he reached up and ruffled your hair like you were a dog that had fetched a bone, fingers cold but strangely gentle as they passed over your scalp.
“Good behaviour,” he purred, that grin deepening into something halfway between pride and amusement. You stared at him, stunned—by the gesture, by the freedom of your leg, by the way his voice dragged across your bones like velvet laced with barbs. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t even know what part of you he was rewarding: the letter, the bandaging, the dancing…or simply your obedience.
But before you could find the right words, he was already standing, already turning to go, as though your whole world hadn’t just shifted with the turn of a key. You looked down at your ankle, red and bruised where the metal had rubbed raw, then back up at his retreating figure.
You were free.
Sort of.
At least, now, the chain was gone—but the leash ?
That was harder to see. Harder still to cut.
…
The next night:
The night air buzzed with murmured plans and hushed arguments as Remmick, Annie, Cornbread, Bo and Stack hunched around a crumpled map by the fire. You’d crept near the edge of the clearing, staying just within earshot, curiosity getting the better of you. Their voices were low, tense. Something about borderlands, safe towns, hunters and scattered prey.
Then Remmick’s gaze flicked up—and caught you.
You instinctively tried to hide. He didn’t call you out, didn’t scold you. Just smiled—slow and sharp—and leaned back with a confidence that always felt more like a threat. His long fingers rose, and with two lazy taps of his index finger against his knee, he summoned you.
You froze. But the look in his eye made it clear: this wasn’t a request. Reluctantly, you took a step forward…and stopped again when his voice cut through the air, cool and commanding.
“No, doll. On all fours—like the good pet I know ye are.” There was a flicker of smug amusement behind his words, but his expression didn’t shift. The air felt heavier. The tension in your spine coiled tight.
You hesitated for just a second longer than you should have—then dropped down to your hands and knees, heart hammering. The earth was cool beneath your palms as you crawled toward him, your pride burning hot under your skin. When you reached him, he guided your head down onto his thigh with a touch that was both possessive and oddly gentle as he started mindlessly petting you.
He didn’t even pause in his conversation.
As if this were normal.
As if this was your place.
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep the shame from showing, eyes lowered while his fingers moved through your hair. The voices of the hive leaders blurred into the crackle of the fire as Remmick’s hand settled firmly on your head, anchoring you. He didn’t look at you again, but he didn’t need to. You were already there and his hand carded through your hair diligently.
Once the meeting over and the others had melted into the dark, their footsteps fading into the night, a quiet stillness settled over the camp.
Remmick hadn’t moved though.
His hand continued its slow rhythm through your hair, fingers tracing behind your ear, then combing back again gently. The fire cracked beside you once more, then came his voice, low and soft, but undeniably smug as he glanced down at you.
“Good girl.”
You stiffened slightly at the praise. The words curled around your spine like smoke, both soothing and unsettling. He wasn’t teasing—not exactly. There was something genuine there, but layered beneath the softness was that same possessive pride he always carried when he felt he’d gotten his way.
You didn’t look up. Didn’t answer.
But he noticed the way your fingers curled against your thigh, the slight shiver in your breath and his smile deepened.
“See ?” he murmured fondly, his thumb brushing against your temple. “Told ye you’d warm up to me.”
He leaned down just enough for his breath to brush your ear, his grin audible in his voice as he added one word.
“Eventually.”
You closed your eyes. He didn’t stop petting you. His fingers grew longer as he suddenly traced circles at the back of your neck as well. You sighed and he observed your every reaction carefully. He looked at your strands/curls/waves and the way they shone in the light of the fire.
Such a beautiful sight…
An hour later :
You barely had time to wake up and brace yourself before Remmick whistled, calling the other vampires into action. “Let’s move out !”
The other vampires scrambled into their own carriages, and soon the small caravan was in motion. For once, Remmick didn’t seem to have anything to say. The silence felt oddly peaceful, and you leaned back against the canvas of the caravan, letting your eyelids flutter shut again. The rhythmic sound of the wheels on the dirt road and the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves began to lull you into a half-sleep, the gentle sway of the carriage making it hard to stay fully alert. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until your body gave in to the pull of sleep.
Unbeknownst to you, Remmick’s eyes never left you, studying you quietly as you slept, your body relaxing as the night drew on.
Hours later, the caravan jerked to a halt. The sudden stop jolted you awake, your eyes snapping open. You rubbed at your eyes, adjusting to the first light of morning. The sky was streaked with purples and pinks, like cotton candy brushed across the horizon. For a moment, you forgot where you were, a fleeting moment of peace.
Then, as if your body had betrayed you, Remmick crawled inside the caravan with a smirk plastered on his face. “Your turn to take the reins, darlin’.”
You looked up at him, wary.
His eyes glinted darkly. “But don’t try anythin’ funny…or my vampire friends will be more than happy to kill ye and yer entire village—including your beloved brother and yer cousin that I conveniently left alive.”
A cold knot formed in your stomach at the threat. Your heart sank, the image of your family flashing before your eyes. You swallowed hard, nodded in understanding, and reluctantly climbed out of the caravan. You felt Remmick’s footsteps behind you as you approached the front, where the horses were tethered. You tried not to show your nerves, but your hands trembled as you reached for the reins—looking around to find the other ‘pets’ doing the same so their masters could rest. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and urged the horses forward. They responded with a slow gallop, and for a few moments, you allowed yourself to feel the wind in your face, the rising warmth of the morning sun. The peacefulness of the moment almost tricked you into forgetting the nightmare you were living.
But just as you neared a neighboring town, the caravan came to a halt again.
A group of farmers appeared from the trees, wearing dusty overalls and straw hats. Their skin was tanned by the sun, their eyes curious as they watched the procession.
“Heya, Miss ! Good day to ya.” One of them said.
You smiled, a reflex you had perfected. “Good day to you, sirs.”
The farmers seemed surprised by your friendly greeting, but one of them stepped forward with a friendly grin. “Say, where ya folks headin’ ?”
“Us ?” You kept the smile in place and suppressed a laugh as you continued. “We’re a singing crew. We entertain people all over. You should definitely catch our show tonight. It’s gonna be a real killer.”
The farmers exchanged confused glances. One of them pointed at the covered carriages. “Say…whatcha got in ‘em there wagons, darlin’ ?”
You forced a smile. “Lots of things. Instruments, banjos, drums, all kinds of stuff. You’ll have the time of your life listening to them tonight, I reckon.”
The farmer who has greeted you earlier seemed to study you as you spoke, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. Then another piped up with a question that you were dreading.
“Say…if you’re a singin’ crew, why ain’t ya playin’ no music right now ?”
You faked a laugh as you could feel the other pets worrying behind you. “Oh you wanna hear us, huh ? We usually wait to get inside the people’s living places to get our songs going. Wouldn’t wanna spoil the surprise and all…”
The first farmer relaxed slightly, as if he was buying your story. “Ah. Gotya. You said you’ll be performin’ in town tonight, huh ?”
You nodded. “Yup. We usually perform for folks at night, you know…the lighting’s better, with the lanterns and torches.”
They seemed to buy that explanation, and the tension lifted slightly. “We get that. We’ll spread the word. Might come watch y’all tonight.”
You couldn’t help the faint falter in your smile. “Sure. You do that. It’ll be one hell of a show…”
Sure, and you’ll also love the bloodsuckers who are gonna eat you all up like candy tonight…You thought darkly.
The farmer nodded and pointed towards the inn ahead. “There’s a place for y’all. Folks’ll be happy to see ya.”
You nodded, forcing another smile as you thanked them and steered the horses forward. The carriages reached the inn, and you glanced at the other humans dragging their vampire masters’ boxes, each carrying them inside. Your eyes landed on the box where Remmick was resting.
What were you supposed to do with him now ? Get him a room ?
The other human pets were pushing the boxes into the inn, carefully maneuvering them through the door. It seemed like the vampires would remain tucked away in their boxes until nightfall, as always. You glanced back at the carriages, realizing you would have to deal with Remmick and his box, just like the others. You groaned, feeling the weight of the task ahead. Slipping down from the front of the first carriage, you grabbed the box and began the struggle to carry it into the inn. You sighed, trying to ignore how heavy it was as you hauled it up the stairs to your room.
“You’re so damn heavy for an average-built Irish vampire, you know that ? And I hope you feel every single stair once I get you up there, you bastard.” Despite your complaints, you finally managed to get the box into a room. You locked the door behind you, dragged the box in the center of the room, and then sat on the floor, staring at it. You knew what would come next, but for now, there was nothing to do but wait.
As the sun began to set and the light outside faded, you leaned back, eyes closed, only half-aware of the shuffling sounds coming from inside the box. The wood creaked, and a low groan filtered out from the darkness within.
You rolled your eyes. “You finally awake, bloodsucker ?”
There was a moment of silence before Remmick’s voice, deep and unmistakably Irish, came from within the box. “Yes. And I felt every single bump on the road, and every damn stair on the way up, ye bitch.”
You snorted. “Aww, did you feel that ? Sorry, ‘master’.”
Remmick’s voice chuckled darkly from inside the box. “Very funny, darlin’. Now open the box so I can get out of this damn thing. I’m sick of bein’ squished.”
You rolled your eyes. “Typical. You always expect me to do your bidding…How about you get out yourself ?”
You heard a dramatic sigh from inside the box. “Fine, darlin’. If ye wanna do this the hard way…”
Before you could react, the lid of the box was thrown open, and Remmick crawled out, stretching his limbs like a cat. He rose to his feet and scanned the room, before turning his attention back to you, sitting on the floor with your legs crossed. He smirked at you, clearly pleased to finally be out of the box.
“Here ye are, me darlin’ !”
You stood up, arms crossed, meeting his gaze with a cool glare. “Had a nice nap, leech ?”
Remmick chuckled, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “Oh wonderful. The bumps and jostling were just perfect for a restful sleep. Very comfy. Thank ye for takin’ such good care of me, sweet thing. To be honest, I expected ye to crack and admit to those farmers what was in the boxes, but ya didn’t ! Look at ye, bein’ a good lil’ sweetheart.”
You scoffed, the sarcasm thick in your voice. “Oh yeah, real sweetheart, am I ? What was I supposed to do ? Let them tear open the box and see your pale, fang-filled, undead face ? Let ‘em drag you out in the sun and watch you burn to a crisp ? Mind you, I would have loved the show. But you said you’d kill me and my family, remember ? So, yeah. Bad luck for me.”
Remmick’s smirk only widened, clearly amused as he playfully tutted. “Me poor lil’ pet. But I must admit, I’m mighty pleased with your obedience, darlin’. You didn’t try anything funny during the journey, and you didn’t tell those farmers a thing, even though you’re madder than a hornet. You’ve been such a good pet fer me.” He leaned forward and kissed your cheek, whispering in your ear, “Me lil’ treasure is learnin’ to behave.”
You immediately grimaced, wiping your cheek where his lips had been. “Eww. Never do that again.”
He only chuckled, clearly enjoying your disgust. He wandered around the room, running a hand over the dusty furniture as he inspected your surroundings. He stopped by the curtain, lifting it with a grin. “Looks like we’ll be spendin’ the night here, darlin’. I sure hope that bed’s big enough fer the two of us.”
You stiffened, eyes wide in horror. “I got money for a second room. I ain’t sharing shit with you.”
Remmick’s grin deepened, eyes glittering with amusement. He sauntered over to the bed, yanking the blanket back with a flourish.
“Oh, now, darlin’, ye ain’t gettin’ away that easy,” he drawled, stalking back to you with long, confident strides. “I’m not one for bein’ polite about my comforts. That means you’re joinin’ me.”
He reached out, one pale hand brushing your arm. You shrank back instinctively and he seemed genuinely hurt for a second.
“I mean…Ye can take the other bed in the room,” he offered before smirking, “but it’ll be on the floor. No mattress, no blankets. How lovely ! And comfy.”
Your jaw clenched as you met his gaze. “Fine,” you spat, forcing yourself to stay upright even as your limbs trembled. “I’ll sleep on the floor then, you absolute monster.”
Remmick chuckled—a low, satisfied sound—and walked over to the far corner. He kicked aside a few dusty boxes until he’d cleared a small patch of floor. With a sweep of his hand, he indicated the spot. “There ye go. Make yourself comfortable, sweetheart.”
You humphed then knelt down and curled up on the cold wood. The chill seeped through your clothes, but you refused to give up. Remmick climbed onto the bed, lying on his back with one arm flung over his eyes. His chest rose and fell in the slow rhythm of someone already drifting towards sleep. The fucker couldn’t even sleep ! Could he ? You had seen him with the obvious symptoms and consequences of sleep but…could he actually sleep ?
You stared at the ceiling, the distant flicker of torchlight from outside painting shifting patterns on the wood beams. Thoughts of escape, resistance, and revenge played through your mind in a restless carousel.
Somewhere behind you, Remmick muttered as if to himself. “Ye know, it is real comfy on the bed. Feels like heaven.”
His taunt sparked a renewed fire in your chest. You pressed your back against the wall, closed your aching eyes, and swore silently:
Tomorrow, you’d find a way out.
…
When you woke up, you saw Remmick setting back into bed. You turned around slightly to find his mouth covered with blood…He must have gone hunting. You grimaced and went to the bathroom before throwing a wet towel at him.
The vampire caught the towel and began to wipe his chin. “Dunno why you’re so upset, darlin’. Ye should be thankin’ me. I hunted so I wouldn’t have to use ye.”
You froze.
“What did you just say ?”
The vampire smirked and continued wiping his mouth with the towel. “I said, ye should be thankin’ me, dolly.”
You rolled your eyes. The absolute nerve ! “For what ? Turning me into your little human pet to drag you from town to town to feed on innocent people ?”
The vampire dropped the towel on the floor, his gaze fixed on you with a predatory intensity as he sneered. “Mind yer manners, pet. I chose ya. You could have ended up in me belly, but I chose ya to be my human companion. Ye should be happy—glad.”
You scoffed, glaring at him with a mocking look. “Happy ? To be your little blood-cow ? To be stuck with your ass ? To never have a choice again ? Yeah. I’m over the moon.”
The vampire’s smirk widened, amused and entertained by your sudden defiance. “Ye got some real gall, talkin’ to me like that, darlin’. But I like it.” He sauntered over to you and giggled. “I never had a human companion like ye before. Never really saw the appeal of pets—to be honest. But oh I luv ye, me pet.”
You backed up, suddenly feeling repulsed by his touch. “Don’t you dare touch me, bloodsucker. And don’t you ever say you love me, you goddamn parasite.”
The vampire chuckled, not deterred by your reaction. “Oh darlin’, yer gonna learn to luv me. I’ll make ye luv me. ‘Tis a promise.” He moved quickly, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you towards him. “C’mon…Please ? Look at me. Ain’t I adorable ?"
You struggled and resisted, trying to push him away. “No ! Stop this ! Don’t you touch me ! Don’t—”
But your words were cut off as the vampire put a hand around your neck, not tight enough to hurt, but tight enough to keep you from speaking again. Your heart hammered in your chest and you tried not to let fear overwhelm you. He could kill you. But you wanted to die…right ? It would be…an escape. And it would be quicker than fire with his fangs and nails. The vampire chuckled, clearly enjoying your fear. With a single finger, he lifted your chin, forcing you to look at him.
“You’re so beautiful when you’re afraid, darlin’. But you shouldn’t be. I ain’t gonna hurt ya. You should be honored—I chose ya. You’re me pet, me lil’ love.”
You trembled in response and he felt it. He nuzzled your cheek and grinned. “Oooh…I get it now. I know what this is. I was in the box all day and ye missed me. Aww…’M so sorry me darlin’. Ye were just desperate fer me attention and I didn’t notice. Me poor wee baby.”
Your anger flared at his patronizing tone. “Don’t you dare call me that.”
The vampire chuckled as he wrapped his arms around you. “Oooh…Ye think you can boss me around, darlin’ ? Aww…Me pretty thing. Ye wanna be me mistress ? S’that it ?”
You pushed against him, trying to free yourself from his grip. “No ! I just want you to let go of me and take your nasty leech-self far away from me !”
The vampire smirked and tightened his grip on you, pulling you flush against his body.
“And just where dye think I’ll be goin’, darlin’?” He kissed your cheek again and drool fell down his chin. “Ye smell so good and look at all that plump lil’ cheek. All fleshy and bouncy. I wish I could just sink my teeth in there…” He smooched that cheek ten times over. “Mwah ! Mwah ! Mwah !”
You felt sick to your stomach as he pawed at you with his cold hands. He was just so...revolting. And yet he smelled like leather, cigars, cinnamon.
“Get your filthy hands off me ! You damn monster !” You pushed against him again, desperate to free yourself from his grasp. Remmick laughed, thoroughly amused by your struggles. He held you tight as he nuzzled his face into your neck, taking in your scent with a deep breath.
“Mmm….Me dolly” His nose moved from your hair towards your collar, and he placed a cold kiss on your bare skin. “Ye really missed me, didn’t ya ? Aww…Me cute lil’ baby birdie. I could just eat ya up ! Sweet as ye are !"
You glared at him, refusing to give in. “No. I wasn’t missing you at all. I was enjoying having you in that damn box. Wish I had more of them to shove you in.”
The vampire chuckled and pulled back, looking at you with a smug expression.
“You’ve got quite the smart mouth on ye. And I adore it. And oh do I luv those cute lil’ insults, darlin’. It’s one of me favorite things about ye. Keep ‘em coming. Yer lil’ words are like music to mine ears.” He chuckled against your skin, his breath cold on your neck. “You’re all fire and spice, me darlin’.”
He kissed that same spot multiple times before running his nose along your jaw. You shuddered in disgust, feeling sick to your stomach as he nuzzled your neck.
“Knock it off, bloodsucker ! And I’ll never warm up to you. I hate you and I’ll always hate you.”
He looked up at you with mock-offended eyes. “…No ?”
You rolled your eyes, thoroughly unamused by his act. “No. I will never like you. You’re a bloodsucking undead monster. I’ll always despise you, you vile abomination.”
His mouth parted slightly. “But I am doin’ me best here. Am tryin’ to be good to ye. I like ye. I take care of ye. I luv me pet...” He started tracing little crosses with his index over your chest. You tried to suppress a shiver as he made those little cross signs.
“You could never be good. You’re a creature from hell. You have no soul. You’re soulless, evil, vile…” He interrupted you with an annoyed humph. You rolled your eyes as he made that sound before continuing. “You are a parasite. And no matter what you say, I will not fall for your tricks. Do you hear me, leech ?”
The vampire nodded, a smirk on his lips. “Sure darlin’. I hear ye. Clear as day. Am an evil parasite, and you hate me.” He then took you by the waist to straddle him on the bed as he fell back on it. He grinned. “But I guess ye didn’t hear me. I said I like ye. Me lil’ sweetheart. Luv me some good fire. Can’t wait to have a taste of that blood. I bet it tastes like lava cake. I do not believe I’ve had a sample yet, have I ?”
The air was thick with tension, and your stomach churned as Remmick’s words sank in. You fought the urge to puke as he pulled you into his lap, his cold, predatory eyes glinting with amusement.
“And you never will.” You spat with finality, trying to shove him away, but his grip was ironclad.
“Aw, darlin’, ye wound me,” he mocked, enjoying your struggle far too much. His fingers tightened around your waist as he leaned in, his cold lips brushing against your neck. You shuddered, feeling his breath against your skin, and tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened, his body pressing you closer. His lips trailed along your jaw, his words a dark whisper.
“Ye know, the more ye fight, the more I want ye. Makes me wanna keep ye forever, pet.”
A wave of disgust flooded over you, but you clenched your fists and forced yourself to stay calm. “Don’t you dare,” you warned, your voice a shaky breath despite your attempts to sound defiant. Remmick chuckled darkly in response, clearly enjoying every moment of your resistance. His hand slid up your back, his thumb tracing over your skin in a slow, maddening motion.
“Can’t blame a vampire for wantin’ what’s his, can ya, me pretty dolly ?” he murmured, pressing his lips against your throat. “You’re mine now. We agreed on the rules. Can’t go back on ‘em now. Ye promised to listen to me and do whatever I want.”
You twisted in his grip, managing to free one arm enough to slam your elbow into his chest. It did nothing, of course—he barely flinched—but it was enough to break the intimate moment, if only for a second.
“Get off me, you filthy bloodsucker,” you hissed, your face twisted with disgust. You pushed at his chest again, harder this time, but he simply grinned, unbothered by your resistance.
“You’re gonna have to try harder than that, sweetheart,” he teased. “Ye think I’d let ye go after all this ?”
His hand tightened around your waist. His breath came in slow, deliberate sips against your skin, and his voice dropped to a low, dangerous murmur.
“You’re mine. You’re gonna learn to respect that—respect me,” he whispered, brushing his lips against your ear. “I can make ye feel so good, darlin’. Ye just don’t know it yet. All ye need is a lil’ convincin’.”
The anger boiled in your chest, but beneath that, a cold wave of fear washed over you. This wasn’t just about control anymore. This was about breaking you.
“You’ll never make me like you,” you snarled, eyes narrowing with determination. “I’d rather die.”
He laughed, a deep, throaty chuckle that sent a chill down your spine. “Maybe. But I think ye’ll change yer mind eventually. ’Cause I won’t stop until ye do. And believe me, am one stubborn motherfucker.”
His mouth pressed to your neck, and you closed your eyes, trying to push the image of him out of your mind. But the sensation of his lips against your skin, his cool fingers brushing against you, made it impossible to ignore.
“You’re a monster,” you whispered hoarsely, your body trembling.
“Yep. But tonight ?” Remmick replied softly, his voice low with amusement. “I’m a monster who knows how to treat his lil’ pet right.”
You swallowed the bile that rose in your throat and pushed against his chest one last time, but it was no use. He wasn’t letting you go. You were trapped. And you hated every second of it. You tried to push him off of you again, but he was far too strong. He seemed to enjoy the control, relishing in the way you struggled beneath him. His cold breath against your skin made your stomach churn.
“You’ll NEVER have my blood, you monster ! If you drink from me, I’ll kill you.”
His eyes gleamed with amusement as he giggled, pressing a cold kiss to your inner wrist. “But I am starvin’, darlin’ ! Please ?”
You clenched your jaw, the horror of his touch flooding you, but you forced yourself to remain resolute. There was no way you would let him drink from you. “No. I’ll fight you every step of the way, you rotten, undead bastard.”
He sighed dramatically, as if you were just being difficult. “That’s not very nice, darlin’. I mean…I could always go downstairs and kill everyone instead ? That’d certainly satisfy me urges.”
He started to move, clearly considering leaving to hunt elsewhere, but you couldn’t let him. Summoning every ounce of strength, you managed to pin him down.
“ALRIGHT ! Alright…” You finally complied and held him with all your weight, the adrenaline pushing you past the overwhelming fear. “You listen to me, damn bloodsucker. You wanna drink ? You drink from me !”
His eyes widened slightly, the surprise flickering across his face. No mortal had ever dared to act like this before. But instead of being angry, he seemed amused.
“Ooooh, arentcha full of surprises, darlin’ ?” He grinned, clearly entertained. “You now want me to drink from ye, eh ? Don’t want no other human to get me attention, innit ? Me sweetheart…C’mon, gimme some blood then. Show me where ye want me.”
You rolled your eyes at his ridiculous attempt at making an explicit joke, but knew you’d have to play along. He was such a…prick. You then realised that for a vampire, he was unlike any you’d read in stories. He was rude and lacked all class. Sighing in exasperation, you lifted your hair, exposing your throat to him. You could already feel your skin crawl, but if this was the only way…
He sniffed, clearly unimpressed before uttering one word only.
“Unpractical.”
You frowned, confused by his cryptic words. “What’s unpractical ?”
He chuckled before tapping your neck significantly. “Yer neck, darlin’. As much as I like the idea of suckin’ on that soft, creamy flesh o’ yers, it’s not very practical if I wanna keep ye alive.”
The vampire sat up, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he traced a finger over your exposed pulse point. “The neck’s the worst place on the body to take blood from. You’re lucky I know that. Otherwise, you’d be drained dry.”
Before you could react, he flipped you over, pinning you back down on the bed in a swift, fluid motion. You gasped, the air knocked from your lungs, and suddenly, he was on top of you again, straddling you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. You clenched your fists in frustration but quickly gave in, lifting your wrist to show him where your veins ran blue beneath the skin.
“Drink from me here then, you monster. You better not take any more than you need. And if you tear my flesh…I’ll find a way to kill you. I’ll find a way, I swear I will. Even if I become one of your vampire followers. Now get down here, leech…”
His eyes gleamed with excitement, clearly enjoying your fiery attitude. “Oh, I’m really lovin’ this, darlin’. You’re bein’ extra feisty. And bossy. Just the way I like ye.”
He grabbed your wrist, bringing it to his mouth, licking the skin with his cold tongue as he assessed the perfect place to bite. You shuddered at the contact, but your resolve stayed strong. “Now, let’s not get hasty. No biting. Remember. I am not interested in becoming a part of your hell hive.”
He chuckled darkly, not deterred by your demand. “Y’are a very curious creature, darlin’. Tell me—how dya expect me to drink yer blood without bitin’ ye ?”
You huffed, irritated. “Don’t play dumb. I know about your nails, Mister Claws. Use those.”
His smirk widened and he remarked approvingly. “Observant. Not bad.”
He then ran his thumbnail over your wrist, eyeing the vein with hungry anticipation. “Just a lil’ incision…right here.”
He positioned his claw delicately against your skin, still watching the pulse beneath, ready to strike. You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for what was coming. He was clearly enjoying this game, but you couldn’t show him how much he was rattling you. This was the only way you could survive—for now. And if you managed to escape later, you’d make sure he’d regret this.
“Just get it over with, bloodsucker,” you spat.
The vampire chuckled darkly, his claws lightly pricking your skin. His eyes glinted as he watched the drop of blood form, then leaned down to lick it, savoring it like a fine wine. But the taste…it was unexpected. Sweet and a little spicy. He drank and closed his eyes. He had already tasted that particular brand somewhere. But where ? When ? He licked his lips and a few drops fell. Red…Bright red. Almost too red. Suddenly, a jolt of recognition sparked in his eyes.
“…A virgin.” He finally realised and looked down at you with a bloody smile. “Ah ! Yer one of those !”
You stiffened, immediately realizing what he meant. He could taste your purity…in your blood. The sudden realization sent a wave of violation through you, though you quickly scolded yourself. You were already in a situation far beyond what was appropriate, and yet his words made it feel even worse. Remmick seemed to sense it, licking his lips with a gleam of amusement. He paused, taking in your reaction before his gaze flicked back to you, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Shoulda guessed it. With yer attitude. No wonder you’re a virgin. Stubborn, rude, unapproachable and bossy…And I knew yer father was really lookin’ forward to seein’ ye get married. But this…Oh, me pet. Yer a damn gift ! But really—I feel silly fer not havin’ figured that one out earlier. How could anyone get close enough to ye to even want ye, hmm ?” He chuckled lowly, but his words stung deeper than you expected.
As he continued to feed, his lips trailed from your wrist to your hand, his cold touch leaving shivers in its wake. Your mind screamed at the unnaturalness of it all, and yet…something inside you was responding, disgustingly. You shut the thought away. You scoffed, trying to find your words, anything to make him stop. “Says the vampire who nobody wants in their house. You’re so desperate, you created your own little family, didn’t you ? Because no actual normal person would ever want you.”
The vampire froze, his eyes narrowing, momentarily stunned by your words. You could see the shift in his demeanor, that playful exterior faltering for a moment before it hardened. The response had clearly struck a nerve, and for once, you found satisfaction in the fact that you’d shaken him.
He grabbed your jaw, forcing your face towards his. “Ye think ye can talk to me like that, darlin’ ?” His voice was cold now, the playfulness gone. “Haven’t ye learned anythin’ ?”
You smirked, unyielding. “Oh, what’s the matter, Remmick ? Did I hit a sore spot ? You had to make your little ‘family’ because no one ever wanted you. I bet everyone hates you, even when you were human nobody could stand you.”
The vampire’s grip tightened, and his lips curled into a snarl. You saw the flicker of hurt behind his anger, though he quickly masked it.
“Ye think you know me, darlin’ ? Ye don’t know a damn thing,” he hissed, and you could feel his rage boiling over.
You pressed on, feeling emboldened by his apparent weak spot. “I know you. You were lonely. That’s why you made them, wasn’t it ? You couldn’t get anyone to love you, so you forced them to. You’re nothing but a parasite, Remmick.”
He slammed you back onto the bed, his face hovering inches from yours. His eyes were dark and you knew he was barely suppressing his rage. But beneath that darkness, you saw something that unsettled you: a deep sorrow.
“You think they’re prisoners ?” he spat, his voice dangerously low. “I made ‘em immortal. I gave ‘em purpose. They’re me children !”
Your words came out without thinking, but they felt right. “No, they’re not your children, Remmick. They’re your captives. You didn’t give them life—you stole it.”
He growled, the sound thick with fury. “They wanted this. They needed it.”
You scoffed, unimpressed. “Yeah ? Like they had a choice ? You’ve got them on a leash, Remmick. They don’t love you—they fear you.”
His face twisted in anger, but there was something in his gaze that flickered, something that seemed regretful. It only made you press on harder. “You’re a leech. You suck the life out of everything you touch, Remmick. You’re nothing but a parasite, feeding off of everyone.”
In one swift movement, he grabbed your throat, his fingers digging into your skin as he lifted you off the bed. His eyes were dark, murder in them, but still, he remained eerily composed.
“Ye don’t know a thing about me, do you ?” he muttered, his voice thick with suppressed rage. “I didn’t choose this life. It chose me.”
He seemed to hesitate, and for a fleeting moment, his composure cracked. Then, like a switch, it was gone. He chuckled bitterly, shaking his head.
“My human life…” His voice was hollow, the weight of years pressing down on him. “I was a farmer’s son. I had nothing. The British…they took everythin’ from me. I was starving. My father died, my sisters too. And then, when I was turned, I became something…better. Something no one could ever take from me. I was wanted—finally.”
You felt something twist inside you, empathy you weren’t prepared for. You stared at him, no longer angry, just quiet, as his fingers tightened, his grip unrelenting.
“But nothing’s changed, Remmick. You still don’t have what you want. You’re still alone, even with your ‘children’. You can have all the power in the world, but it won’t change the fact that you can’t be loved.”
He stopped breathing for a moment, something flickering in his eyes. And then, like a crack opening, he whispered.
“People do love me. Me hive loves me. I don’t need to depend on anyone. I decide who stays. Not the other way around.”
You couldn’t help yourself. “And how much of that is real love, huh ? They follow you because they have no choice. It’s not love. It’s fear. You’re just a monster who can’t see it.”
His gaze hardened again. “You’re wrong.”
You met his stare unflinchingly. “No, I’m not. You’re not loved. You’re feared. And you know it.”
He growled in frustration, his hand tightening around your throat, but then his voice dropped, and something ancient, deep, echoed in his words. “Dún do bhéal.”
The words, whispered in a language older than time, hung in the air between you both like a final warning. Being threatened snapped you out of whatever feelings of pity you had. You felt yourself getting scared again, and you realized that the vampire was terrifying when he chose to be. His voice was like dark steel, and his grip on your neck grew tighter.
You remained as motionless as you could.
There was a moment of silence between the two of you, and the vampire seemed to be taking in every detail of you for the first time. You could hear his sharp, cold breaths. You felt his grip loosen, and you exhaled a little.
"You..." His voice sounded different now. Almost...intrigued. His nose moved over your body, inhaling your scent slowly. He then looked at your neck. The vampire’s eyes looked slightly...changed. And a little smile appeared on his face.
You frowned in confusion.
“What’s with the creepy smile ?”
Remmick leaned in so that his nose rested against the crook of your neck, and he inhaled deeply. He then chuckled in an amused, almost disbelieving way. His words came out slightly muffled, against your skin. “Ye lil’ freak. Ye like this, don’t ye…?”
You frowned, confused.
He laughed. “~Oh…That’s priceless. I feel your pulse quicken. Your heart racing. I can smell it, darlin’. Ye like this ! Ye like fightin’ me !"
You stiffened, feeling a mixture of terror and something else as he looked back down at you. He chuckled again, his hot breath moving your hair. “It was to be expected. You’re completely untouched, like an uncarved piece of meat. No one has ever been with you. No one ever wanted you. But you want to be wanted, don’t you, darlin’ ? You’re so lonely...I can feel it. You were always alone. So alone…Just a poor lil’ girl wishing to be loved."
You felt more vulnerable and scared than ever. He was getting inside your head and reading you like a book, and it was terrifying. But there was some truth in his words: You had always been alone. Isolated. You had no one now. Your father was dead and you would probably never see your brother or family again. You wanted to respond, but found yourself speechless.
The vampire smirked against your skin, like he was relishing this discovery. He then placed a soft kiss to your jawline. His voice was soft now, as light as a feather. “Such a poor lil’ baby. Always so lonely and alone, so scared to be touched...You’ve never been with anyone. Never even been held by a tender lover before. You’d give anything to be wanted, wouldn’t ye, darlin’...? You would give up your body to anyone who’ll hold you or tell ye they luv ye.”
Your eyes became glassy.
“…Stop.”
His gaze stayed fixed on you, and his voice grew slightly more tender. He gently moved your hair out of your face, examining you closely. “You’re willin’ to be used as long as it means someone wants you…even if it’s just for a moment. What’s it matter anyway, darlin’...? Ydr life’s been nothing but loneliness and isolation. And that makes ye desperate.”
You wanted to deny it, but only smiled sadly at him at the end. “That might be right. But you are not someone. You are…a leech. I wanted to be loved by humans. But…you are not human anymore.”
There was a small flash of hurt in the vampire’s gaze at your words, but he quickly recovered, and his smirk returned. But this time it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know, darlin’. You want a human man. A man who can hold you and touch you. A human man who can give ye lil’ babies.”
You huffed. “Babies or not…as long as he’d love me.”
The vampire’s grip on your throat loosened even further, and he took in a deep breath, looking almost...wistful. “But men would not want ye…even then. You are a strange creature, darlin’...You’re so hardheaded. And so bossy. And a lil’ mouthy. Loud. Men want women who are sweet and docile. They want a woman who’s soft, and gentle. They don’t want a woman like ye.”
You stared at the ceiling. “…Perhaps. But I prefer to be alone than in bad company. I do not understand how humans work or what they expect—but I know what I am worth. And if they do not want me ? Then that is their choice. Not mine.”
The vampire paused for a moment, and a small, sad smile formed on his face. “There’s nothing to understand, darlin’. They don’t know what they want.”
You looked at him. “And you do ?”
The vampire’s gaze shifted to your neck, to the exposed flesh there. He paused for a moment, as if entranced. “I do. But you don’t wanna know, darlin’. I know what I am. What I need. I am a monster. But, humans can be even bigger monsters than I am. They can be cruel, liars and selfish. They are greedy…and they will use ye. They will take and they will take until ye have nothing else to give, and then they will leave you. If you’re lucky, they’ll use ye up first. Most of the time, they’ll just leave ye, hollow and broken.”
You sighed and shook your head. “But they are behind so many beautiful things. Art, music, love…”
The vampire laughed, his dark eyes glinting in the light. “Art, music, luv…? That’s a joke. I know art. I know music. I know luv. Those human artists and composers and luvers don’t give a crap about anyone but themselves. I have seen it in this world, darlin’. Their so-called beauty is just a disguise to cover up their selfishness. The artists are only after wealth and glory and recognition. The luvers are only concerned about their own pleasure. Humans only do things fer themselves. None of them can truly luv.”
You hummed. “Then tell me, why do I crave it ? Why do we crave love and affection when it is unnecessary and unreciprocated ?”
The vampire wise beyond centuries chuckled again and answered with a shrug. “Ye humans are fools. Ye are weak creatures. Yer only goal in life is to fill a hole. Ye fill it with food, and sex, and love, and material things. Ye think that will make ya feel complete. And it lasts for a bit…but you get used to it, don’t ya ? And once somethin’ gets boring, you’re off to the next thing. Always lookin’ to fill the hole.”
You scoffed at the irony in his words. “…Isn’t that why you started the hive ? To fill that hole ?”
Something flickered in the vampire’s eyes at your question, an old pain and anger. He smirked at you, his voice dark and cold. “I wanted to create a family because I lost mine a long time ago, lassie. To have a home is the most important thing one can possess. I was tired of being alone, without anythin’ to ground me to the earth. I was tired of wanderin’ this world alone. So I found those who I could share blood with, who I could mold my own image onto. And I will never be alone again, darlin’. Never.”
You stared at him and asked. “…Was it worth losing your soul over ?”
Remmick seemed to genuinely think about it before he responded. “I only lost what I wished to lose. And besides, being a vampire is far better than being human. I’m powerful now. And I can do whatever I want. And I never have to be hungry again.”
Your jaw twitched. “Was it worth losing the pleasures of a life lived to the fullest ? Was it worth a life—your life ?”
The smirk returned on the vampire’s face. He seemed amused by your questions now. “Pleasures of life…? That doesn’t exist. None of those lil’ things like sunlight or food or touch or love are pleasurable. No one’s ever been satisfied with that. Not really. That’s why people always want more…and why they always end up unhappy. I’m free now. The only thing I fear is emptiness and loneliness. And I will never be empty as long as I feed or lonely as long as I have my hive with me. Those so-called ‘pleasures’ are nothing but illusions. It’s all an illusion. Nothing is permanent. It fades. And that’s all life has to offer. Temporary lil’ moments that fade as quickly as they come. I’m free of all of that now. I have no need for such temporary, frivolous things anymore.”
You tilted your head. “…Don’t you miss anything at all ?”
There was a flicker in Remmick’s gaze at that, but he quickly buried the expression. “Why would I miss me life ? I’m much better off now. I have anythin’ I could ever want or need. My old life is so far behind me now that it hardly even exists anymore. It’s meaningless.”
You sighed. “It could have been a good life led. What point is there to become immortal when nothing comes anymore ? Nothing exciting. Nothing really new…And even then, you are still unsatisfied—unfulfilled.”
The vampire let out a scoffing noise. “Unfulfilled. Now that’s a crock. I have everything I could ever want. Nothin’ is denied to me. Ye should learn to not yearn for more, darlin’. Learn to be satisfied. Ye humans only want more and more and more…”
You stared at him. “…Because we know there is a day when everything will be over and no pleasures allowed. You wouldn’t understand—not anymore.”
The vampire laughed at that. “Oh, darlin’. Humans are so stupid and sentimental. Y’all walk around, worrying about yer health, and yer job, and what you’ve done or haven’t done yet. I’ve been walkin’ this earth for centuries, as I am now. I know that everything is temporary. But I know how to live in the moment. I enjoy myself. I do not concern meself with tomorrow.”
You closed your eyes and sighed. “But…You have no tomorrow. No yesterday. No today.”
The vampire smirked, his gaze fixated on your face. He found this turn of conversation rather odd, and yet interesting. “I have the present, darlin’. That’s all I need. I have me music, and I have me food, I have me hive. Everythin’ I need to be content.”
You hummed. “Then you should go downstairs. Do your show and feed your children…if that is really your choice.”
The vampire chuckled. He was having fun with this little game. “Ye say that like you’re givin’ me a choice. Ain’t that generous of you, darlin’.”
You smiled weakly. “…There is no choice. You already made yours. And my heart squeezes at the thought that whoever made you what you are dared to call it a gift.”
“Gift.” He repeated and sounded like he was trying to taste the word to see how it felt on his tongue. His hand lingered on your jaw, his touch oddly tender for someone so cold and lethal. It was a contradiction, much like the rest of him: powerful and yet somehow still craving something more, something that eluded him. He studied your face, his dark eyes scanning you like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. The faintest flicker of something, something close to regret or longing, passed through his gaze before it hardened once more.
“Ye talk like ye understand me, like ye see through the mask. But ye don’t, darlin’.”
You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze head-on.
“And yet,” you replied softly, “you want me to understand you.”
He smirked, his fingers curling around your jaw with a firmness that matched his earlier grip. But this time, it wasn’t threatening. He just wanted your eyes on him. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just enjoyin’ the sound of someone who dares to talk back to me.”
You swallowed. There was truth in his words, a darkness that you could feel deep in your bones. But there was also something more, something that made your heart pound in a way that terrified and exhilarated you at once. You couldn’t tell if it was the fear of him or the strange pull he had on you, but you knew that this encounter was changing something inside you.
He leaned in closer. “Listen to me. You do not have to try to understand me, darling. You already do. Because in some way, I am you and you are me.” His lips brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. He had no accent this time around. It felt strange…like he wasn’t Remmick anymore. You closed your eyes again, bracing for whatever came next. The mix of terror and desire that flooded you left you feeling dizzy. Part of you wanted to fight back, to push him away, to reclaim some semblance of control. But another part of you, the part he had exposed with his words, longed for the very thing you feared. The silence between you grew thick, charged with something unspoken, something dangerous. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, and you realized that this was not just a game for him. To him, this was a battle of wills. And despite the fear that gripped you, despite everything you had said, you knew deep down that you were already lost.
However, you suddenly realised what you were doing and opened your eyes before wrenching your head away from his grip.
“…Go.”
The vampire’s gaze grew sharper, and he let out an annoyed sigh.
“No.” His hand grasped your jaw again, forcing you to look at him. “I’m not leavin’.”
You huffed. “You need to lead your so-called children. Create new ones. Get the blood to sustain yourself…”
Remmick smiled at that, letting out an amused chuckle. His gaze roved over your face, taking in every detail. “I am an independent, grown vampire. The ‘children’ can tend to themselves for a while. I’m more interested in this...” His hand started tracing little circles on your belly. You looked down and frowned in incomprehension. But he only continued to trace his fingers over your abdomen. He looked like he was enjoying himself immensely. “Such a strange lil’ darlin’ ye are…most human women would be terrified right now, but ye only seem…curious. Ain’t that sweet.”
You stared at his hand on your stomach. “…Why does it matter ?”
Remmick chuckled. His hand slipping underneath your shirt to feel the warmth there. He then leaned down, resting his head against your shoulder. His dark hair tickled lightly against your cheek, and his voice was soft in your ear.
“Why does it matter…? You’re a lil’ odd. Just like me. It’s like ye…complete me. You want to understand. You’re…curious. I like it. Ye make me feel warm. So warm…"
You were surprised at how much he was touching you, how closely he was holding you. He was strangely...intimate with you. It was a bizarre contrast to how he had acted before. You suddenly found yourself reminded of an old quote, "The Devil can quote Scripture for his purpose…and Satan often appears in the guise of an angel of light." Your heart started pounding wildly in your chest. You found yourself breathing rather hard, and your thighs were starting to quiver in anticipation. You didn’t want this, did you...?
“…Remmick. Are you…the Devil ?”
The vampire chuckled, amused and intrigued by your question. He lifted his head from your shoulder and loomed over you. “Me a demon, darlin’ ? I haven’t a horn nor a hoof to me name. And I’ve got the best singin’ voice, which ought to count for somethin’.”
You blinked. “That wasn’t an answer.”
He bent down and placed a gentle kiss to your jawline. “No darlin’. I am neither angel nor devil. I’m no saint or prophet. I’m just…me. I’m a predator, just like all the other creatures in this world. I just like to enjoy the spoils. Don’t that excite ye, darlin’ ? You’re me lil’ darlin’ prey.”
You felt your eyes filled with tears and closed them. “Am I ? When will you finish me off then ?”
The vampire chuckled again, and it sounded almost…sweet. He continued to place soft kisses to your jaw and neck, and he took pleasure in how sensitive your skin was to his touch. “Finish ye off, darlin’ ? Where’s the fun in that ? I’d like to take me time with ye. Whatya say ? What’s a lil’ spin between friends ?"
You found yourself holding your breath, unable to speak at first. You were paralyzed. The way he was pressing himself up against you was making you feel strange. You swallowed hard and found your voice again, though it was a little weak. “So what ? You…wanna play with me, is that it ? Did nobody tell you not to play with your food in all the time you’ve been an undead ?"
He let out a breathy chuckle. “Don’t call yerself food, me pet. I have more…respect for ye than that. I want to enjoy ye…take me time with ye. Ain’t that more excitin’ than just finishin’ ye off and calling it a night ?”
You felt your heart beating faster and faster. His words were strange, but his body was pressing against you so intensely right now, and you could sense his…arousal. You should be scared. But you weren’t. For some reason, you were curious. He was a monster, a beast…but he wanted to savor you. To play with you.
You were frozen, the conflicting feelings taking over your thoughts.
Remmick chuckled in amusement as he saw the conflicting thoughts taking over your expression. He pushed your thighs open and rested his waist between your legs. He then began to slowly grind into you, the pressure making your breath catch in your throat.
He took a moment to inhale your scent, his nose running along your skin and his voice hoarse in your ear. “I can hear yer heart racin’…Ye know, I tried to get me hands on a warm one before. But they usually don’t like me. I don’t know why. And the other vampires ? They are so cold…"
His words were so strange, so unexpected. No one had ever touched you like this before. He was so cold and yet you were starting to feel warm. His hands were running over your skin, everywhere, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. It was overwhelming. He let out a soft chuckle, his voice almost a whisper in your ear. “I like ye better like this…it’s warmer. It feels nice. I know with ye it’ll feel good. I tried to flirt with ye warmbloods before. But none of the warm ones ever bothered. Seems like they don’t think am worthy. And then I kill ‘em and the feeling is just off…”
Your head was spinning. This monster…this hunter…took pleasure in touching your skin, your body. What he was saying was insane…but the way he was talking to you...The vampire kept up his ministrations as he continued to grind against you. He was getting off on this just as much as you were. He moaned…How could a creature such as this feel pleasure ? He started to kiss your neck, the sound of his lips against your skin filled the air. He seemed unable to hold himself back. Every part of him needed to touch you, as if he had been starving for the contact. He inhaled you, and let out a hiss of pleasure.
One of his finger hooked itself at the collar of your dress to gain access to your shoulder as he peppered it with soft kisses. He was about to continue by opening the laces at the front…
But then, Stack came in with a loud slam of the door and a wide grin on his face.
“REM ! Come on ! Our show is about to start ! We need you downstairs, man !”
Remmick let out a long, annoyed groan the moment Stack’s voice broke the tension. His forehead dropped against your neck with an audible thump, his breath chilling your skin as he exhaled deeply through clenched teeth.
“Dammit, Stack…”
You blinked, dazed and still trying to process everything—your heart thudding wildly from his closeness, the things he’d said, the way he’d touched you. And now…now he was whining in disappointment from having been interrupted. Remmick sat up slowly, looking more disgruntled than ever now, his jaw tight, eyes glowing faintly with irritation. “I swear he did it on purpose…”
With his body still between your legs, he turned his head and shouted towards the door. “I am busy, Stack !”
Stack laughed as he stared at the both of you with a knowing smile. “You’re always busy when you’re about to go on stage ! C’mon, man, the crowd’s loud, they’re askin’ for you. Bring your sexy ass downstairs ! You can come back and finish your business later.”
Stack then left and Remmick growled low in his throat, but finally rolled off of you—reluctantly. He sat at the edge of the bed, raking his pale fingers through his black, tousled hair before grabbing his bonjo leaning against the wall. He stood, glanced over his shoulder at you—your cheeks flushed, your body still trembling a little—and something in his expression softened. It was part regret, part promise.
“I ain’t done with ye. Don’t think this is over. I made a deal to play tonight, and I don’t break my word but…I’ll come back after the last song,” he promised and smirked. “And when I do…ye better still be warm for me, me dolly.”
Then he winked—an oddly human, boyish gesture—before sauntering out of the room with the bonjo slung across his back, calling out to Stack as he went: “Hey, Stack ! Tell ‘em the devil just tuned his strings.”
Once he was gone, you leaned back down and stared up at the ceiling.
…
..
.
You were mad—completely and irrevocably mad.
A few moments later:
The tavern beneath the inn was lit in flickering lantern light, shadows dancing along wooden beams and smoke curling in lazy spirals toward the ceiling. The crowd was a mix of drunkards, wanderers, curious townsfolk, and travelers seeking warmth, wine, and a bit of chaos. Laughter rang out, mugs slammed on tabletops, and all around, people clung to distractions like lifelines. You saw Stack and Mary dancing together and Cornbread making deals of one sort or the other…Annie had decided to stay in her room tonight with Lyla—so you didn’t even have a friend to talk to as you wandered around.
Then you saw him.
Remmick stood on a makeshift stage at the far end, his figure backlit like some devil out of a folktale—eyes glinting like he held a secret the world wasn’t ready for. His bonjo was slung low, and when his fingers started gliding along the strings, the room started dancing and laughing and cheering. The music was wild, a blend of swampy blues and something older…You weren’t quite sure what. It made you think of the first day you had met him and how he had looked like a perfect gentleman who loved music and only wanted a place to rest.
How naive your had been…
His voice raised, warm honey dipped in whiskey and smoke:
“All the pretty things that scream in the night,
Don’t run too far, darlin’, I bite just right…”
The crowd cheered. Some laughed, some danced while you shivered. They didn’t know the words—or they didn’t pay attention to them. But you did. If only you had truly listened that night—maybe your father would have still been alive today. You ordered a drink and sat down at a corner table to stare at him. He was so charming. Too charming. Everyone in the room was drinking him in—his voice, his rhythm, his smile like it could melt glass.
And then you thought…
This is your chance.
You could stand up. Walk to the barkeep. Whisper that you were in danger. Someone—someone—might help. You could slip out the back and vanish into the night. You didn’t have to go back upstairs.
But then…Remmick’s eyes found yours through the crowd.
He winked. A slow, knowing gesture. One corner of his mouth curled into that devilish grin, and suddenly, you were pinned there, breath caught, muscles frozen. He didn’t miss a beat, but his next lyrics almost seemed directed at you:
“You can run, sweet darlin’, run through the trees,
But your name’s in me mouth and me blood’s at the knees…”
Your hands curled tightly around the rim of your glass.
Help. Escape. Run.
But…That wink. That grin. That voice. That touch from earlier—it still lingered like a phantom on your skin. Part of you was terrified. But part of you wanted to be chased. Wanted to see what he meant when he said he wasn’t done. You shook your head. No. No. HE WOULD NOT MAKE YOU LOSE YOUR HEAD ! You then decided to stand up and approach a man to ask for a ride. You didn’t look back at Remmick, not even when your let the man lead you out of the bar. The night air was sharp as the doors creaked closed behind you. The man you had pleaded with—big, gruff, smelled of gasoline and pine—walked briskly toward his truck, muttering something about “damn freaks” and “don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll get you outta here.” You clung to the last threads of hope as he opened the truck door.
But then—
A blur.
A thud.
A scream strangled into silence.
The man who’d offered you help was on the ground, his body already slack, eyes wide in shock as Remmick held him by the back of the neck, sunk teeth gleaming crimson into his throat. Blood welled, thick and dark, spilling in waves down his chest, pooling in the dirt.
You screamed and ran forward.
“Remmick ! Stop !”
Your fists balled in his shirt, tugging at him like a child trying to catch someone’s attention. Tears streaked down your cheeks, panic making your voice crack.
“Please ! Stop—don’t—he was just—!”
Remmick didn’t stop immediately. He drank like a man dying of thirst finally finding water. It was violent. Primal. Horrifying.
Then…he slowed.
Pulled back.
Blood dripped from his mouth, smearing his chin. He stood up slowly, the man’s corpse crumpling to the ground like a sack of meat.
He turned to you.
And his eyes—once playful, even tender—were pitch black. Bottomless.
But then they flickered.
He saw you crying, your hands still balled up in his shirt. His expression shifted. Something almost like guilt crossed his face—but it didn’t last. His voice was low. Rough. Still laced with that twisted sweetness.
“Ye were gonna leave me, me darlin’. After what we shared ?” He stepped forward, brushing his blood-slicked fingers along your cheek. “I told ye I wasn’t done with ye yet…I told ye to wait fer me and stay warm…Why couldn’t ye just listen to me ?”
You were about to apologise, but he didn’t let you. He suddenly took you by the throat and pushed you back inside the inn, not stopping before entering your shared room and closing the door behind him.
Synopsis: You try to stay sane as Remmick attempts to make you warm up to him. But…will it work ?
(This is my first Sinners fanfic. I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. Also, you have French ancestry here.)
Part 1 here: https://www.tumblr.com/dark-fanfics-moon/783014726264291328/the-pet-remmick-x-reader?source=share
Remmick’s eyes glinted as he watched you intently, the corners of his lips curling into a wicked grin. He was enjoying every second of this—the power, the control he had over you. It made your skin crawl, but you were too tired, too broken to protest.
You shivered and asked, “Why didn’t you kill me ?”
The vampire’s expression darkened for a moment, but the smirk never fully left his face. He stepped closer, his cold fingers brushing your cheek. “I ain’t gonna kill you, lass,” he said with a slow, deliberate drawl. “I told ye: yer mine now. And I don’t break me toys. I like to play with ’em first. Maybe get a lil’ love, ye know ?”
A chill ran through you at the thought of being his “plaything.” The very idea of it made your blood run cold, but there was no denying the hunger in his eyes. That unspoken desire, mixed with a twisted sense of affection, filled you with dread. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest.
“Why take me ?” You finally dared to ask.
Remmick leaned back, seemingly lost in thought for a moment, before he answered with a hint of something like nostalgia. “Difference between me hive and humans is… we ain’t really all that warm. Don’t get me wrong, I love me family. But hum…I discovered I liked keepin’ warm ones too. They make good companions on the road and can keep us safe during the day…”
Fear twisted in your gut as the realization hit. You’d heard the myths, the whispers about vampires keeping humans as pets, but never in your wildest nightmares did you think you’d end up as one. It was all too real now, and the terrifying truth was sinking in deeper with each word.
The vampire chuckled darkly, as if enjoying the look of horror in your eyes. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll keep ye fed and safe…but I gotta warn ye…life with me will be different than what you’re used to. I ain’t like anythin’ y’ever experienced.”
You felt a sick mixture of terror and curiosity. You knew the life he had planned for you would be nothing short of a nightmare, but there was a strange thrill in the thought of living on the fringes of society—living a life so twisted that others would never imagine it. Still, you tried to cling to whatever shred of normalcy you could.
“Could I write to my brother on occasion ? To let him know that I am alive ?” you asked, hoping for some semblance of freedom.
The vampire paused, his red eyes calculating as he considered your request. “I suppose I could allow that. But no more than once every few weeks. And I’ll read every word ye write. I don’t need ye tellin’ someone where we are.”
You let out a small, relieved breath, at least a tiny victory amidst the horror.
Remmick smirked, amused by the display of sheer relief. “Now…Don’t get too excited, darlin’. I’m still in charge here. And I expect yer complete obedience in exchange for these lil’ niceties.”
You sighed, resigned to your fate. “I understand…”
“That’s a smart lass,” Remmick approved before he pointed a finger at you. “Yer learnin’ already. I think yer gonna be a fast learner—unlike me other pets.”
He stepped away, sizing you up with a calculating look before continuing. “Now that we’re on the same page…it’s probably a good idea to go over some house rules.”
You felt your stomach twist in dread at the thought of following his rules, but you knew you had no choice. With a hesitant nod, you gestured for him to continue.
Remmick leaned back with a wicked grin. “First rule: You do what I say without question. If I say jump, you ask ‘how high.’ If I say kneel, you hit the ground. Understand, darlin’ ?”
You clenched your jaw, suppressing the anger bubbling up inside, but you nodded reluctantly. “I understand. I’ll do whatever you say.”
He smirked approvingly. “Good. Second rule: Yer my responsibility. Which means, I don’t want ye goin’ off on yer own. Everywhere ye go, I’m there with ya. You ain’t goin’ nowhere without me permission, got that ?”
Your brow furrowed. “How about during the day ?”
He chuckled again and shook his head. “Oh darlin’…You’re adorable. During the day, ye go nowhere. Ye watch while I rest. You’re goin’ to be stayin’ with me. That means no goin’ to town, no goin’ to church. Just sittin’ tight until night falls again.”
His smirk deepened. “But if ye get bored ? You can always be buddies with the other pets of the hive ! Wouldn’t that be nice ? Besides, we’ll need ye to move us when the sun is out. But don’t worry. The other pets will show ye how it’s done.”
A wave of helplessness swept over you, but you knew there was no point in protesting. You nodded again. “I understand.”
“Good. Yer really catchin’ on quick,” he said, clearly pleased. “Third rule: Ye don’t put up a fight. I ain’t in the habit of wastin’ me precious time and energy on stubborn pets. If I ask ye to do something that makes you unhappy ? Well, you’ll do it anyways. Yer gonna follow me rules, and the rules of the hive, even if it makes you angry.”
You bit your lip to keep from speaking, from snapping at him. You knew better. “I understand. I won’t give you any trouble.”
Remmick smiled, pleased with your compliance. “That’s what I like to hear. Fourth rule: Ye don’t say no to me. Ever. If I want yer blood, I take it. If I want yer company, I take it. If I want ye in bed with me as a damn cushion fer me head ? I’m doin’ that as well. No complainin’, no fightin’, no refusin’, no resistin’ or anythin’ else along those lines, m’kay pet ?”
You shuddered at that despicable word. ‘Pet’. But you nodded nonetheless, unable to do anything else.
Remmick continued, his tone turning more serious. “If I tell ye to do somethin’, you do it. No ifs, ands, or buts. You’ll keep me hunger satisfied and do whatever I want, when I want.”
You scoffed, unable to keep the sarcasm out of your voice this time. “Didn’t know I had a vampire toddler on my hands.”
Remmick’s grin widened, but there was something predatory in his eyes now and drool fell from his chin. “Mouthy, are we ? Fine by me. You’ll learn real quick, darlin’. Real quick.”
You shuddered at the sight and looked away prompty. He seemed to understand your discomfort and sighed before wiping his chin. He then realised that his clothes were still soaked in blood. He got his shirt and undershirt off before throwing them at you.
"Wash those."
You looked at the blood there and your whole body shivered at the realisation that it might be your own father’s blood on those clothes. You let them fall on the floor. You couldn’t help but shudder, the sickening thought creeping into your mind that this could very well be your father’s blood—the man you’d just buried.
Your hands trembled, and a cold sweat broke out along your skin as the room seemed to close in on you. The reality of everything—your father’s death, the way you were now under Remmick’s control—felt too much to bear all at once. The blood on those clothes felt like it was crawling up your spine, a silent reminder of what you had lost.
Remmick’s voice broke through your panic, calm and detached. “Well, what’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ ? Get to it.”
You swallowed hard, your body stiffening at his words. The last thing you wanted to do was touch that blood, to remind yourself of the violence that had ripped your life apart. But you knew better than to refuse. You didn’t have a choice. You bent down slowly, gathering the clothes from the floor, trying to keep your composure. The blood seemed to burn your fingertips as you picked them up, but you forced yourself to hold onto them. It was just another part of this twisted new life Remmick had made for you—one you were still trying to make sense of.
With a quick, stiff nod, you turned away, heading towards the exit of the trailer. The cool air hit your face as you made your way to the nearby stream, the rhythmic sound of rushing water offering little comfort against the storm of emotions swelling inside you. You kneeled at the edge of the stream, the bloodstained clothes still clutched tightly in your hands.
As the cold water touched the fabric, your sobs began to escape, raw and uncontrollable. Each tear felt heavier than the last, like it was pulling you deeper into the darkness of what had become your reality. The blood didn’t just stain the clothes—it stained your soul, a constant reminder of the horrors you could never unsee. Your father, the village, everything you’d once known, all shattered in an instant.
The water seemed to mock you, its gentle flow unable to wash away the heaviness in your chest, the memories, the fear, and the overwhelming sense of helplessness. The clothes slipped from your trembling fingers as you cried harder, the water barely able to cleanse the stains on your hands, let alone the ones buried deep inside you.
You wanted to scream, to run far away from everything. But where would you go ? What would you do ? Remmick’s shadow loomed over you, both a constant presence and an ever-present threat, and you had nowhere to turn. You sank to your knees, your body shaking as you held the bloodied fabric to your chest. The stream, though it tried, couldn’t carry away the burden you were now bound to. And yet, here you were, sobbing in the cold, wishing for something—anything—to make it stop.
…
Once the task complete, you approached the carriage and the faint, haunting sound of Remmick’s banjo drifted through the air. The low, rhythmic plucking of strings mixed with the night’s silence, the eerie melody fitting in with the dark weight of the evening. His dark eyes glinted as he played, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked up briefly, catching sight of you.
The sound of his banjo was a strange comfort, but it didn’t ease the dread pooling in your stomach. The blood still clung to your memory, even though you had washed it from the clothes. It was impossible to wash the images from your mind.
He didn’t speak immediately, as if waiting for you to say something first. You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. You swallowed hard, trying to keep the tremble from your voice as you spoke.
“…I’ve done what you asked.” Your words felt empty, hollow in the air between you.
Remmick’s smirk deepened, though it was softer now, more amused than predatory. “Did ye now ?” He set the banjo aside and stood. “I’m glad to see ye’ve come back. Thought I might’ve lost ya to the night.” He stepped closer to you, his presence, as always, dominating the space. He then added with a grin. “Woulda hated havin’ to chase you all night, puppet. But am fast. Hella fast. Ye wouldn’t have made it through the night.”
He then playfully pinched your nose and smirked before taking the clothes from your arms.
You couldn’t help but flinch, the memory of his cold blood-soaked chin still fresh in your mind. “I did what you wanted,” you repeated, the words somehow a bit stronger now, despite the gnawing fear inside you. “Now what ?”
“Now, I’d say we take the next step. But before that…” He leaned closer, his voice low, “You’ve been through quite a bit tonight, haven’t ya ?” He reached for your arm, his touch light but firm, pulling you gently inside the carriage. “Come on in. We family now, ain’t we ?”
The chill from outside still lingered in your bones as you stepped into the warmth of the carriage.
“Family…” you muttered under your breath, feeling the weight of the word like a cold iron shackle around your heart.
He then tapped the place on his knee.
"C’mere me puppet."
You froze.
His voice was gentle—mockingly so—but the command behind it was unmistakable. “C’mere me puppet.” He repeated. The words laced with false affection, like a hunter calling to a wounded animal. Your eyes flicked to his knee, where his hand patted expectantly, and then up to his face. That smug, knowing smirk never wavered. Every inch of your body screamed at you to run, to escape, to do anything but obey. But your legs moved before your mind could catch up, conditioned now by fear, by exhaustion, by the brutal reality of your new existence.
You stepped closer.
Remmick’s eyes followed your every movement, his eyes dark and gleaming with twisted satisfaction. You lowered yourself slowly, tentatively, onto his knee, barely touching him. He laughed softly, almost like a purr, one hand snaking around your waist to pull you in tighter—until you were perched fully across his lap, your side pressed against his chest.
“There we go,” he murmured, brushing your hair back from your face with a tenderness that only made your skin crawl. “See how easy that was ?”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The weight of his gaze pressed down on you, making your mouth go dry.
He studied you for a moment, his thumb running idle circles along your side. Then he leaned in, nose brushing your cheek, his breath cold and smelling faintly of iron. “I ain’t gonna hurt ye tonight,” he whispered. “Not unless you make me. You’ve had enough, haven’t ya ?”
You nodded, barely able to breathe.
He chuckled. “That’s my good lil’ lassie.”
Your stomach churned.
Then, to your surprise, he didn’t press further. Instead, he leaned back into the plush seat, arms still around you, his banjo resting against the opposite wall like a discarded thought. You remained frozen. For a moment—just a moment—you let yourself breathe and listen. To the soft sway of the carriage from the blowing wind outside, the horses’ hooves trampling the ground, the dull thrum of blood in your ears. You couldn’t trust him. You wouldn’t trust him. But as your body sank involuntarily into the exhaustion gnawing at you, and as his hand stroked your hair absentmindedly, you realized:
This was your life now.
And you would have to survive it. Even if it meant pretending to be his puppet…for now.
He then whispered in your ear. “Sleepy, puppet ? You can rest yer eyes fer a few minutes. I’ll watch over ye.”
You were too exhausted to deny and simply closed your eyes…falling into a light sleep.
A few minutes later…Remmick woke you up and led you out of the carriage. The carriages were nestled together in a circle, their wooden exteriors glowing faintly in the moonlight, casting long shadows across the ground. You could hear the soft murmur of voices, a mixture of laughter and whispered conversations, though it was clear this was no ordinary gathering.
“Don’t be scared, doll,” Remmick’s voice purred as he guided you forward. The scent of burning wood and fresh night air mixed together in an unsettling blend.
There, standing in the center of the gathering, were the other “pets”—humans, like you, who had been taken by the vampires. They were dressed in strange, mismatched clothes, most of them looking weary but oddly content. Some were sitting by the fire, a few leaning against the side of a carriage, while others were interacting with the vampires in a way that, to you, felt disturbingly normal. They all seemed so…comfortable in this twisted existence.
One of them, a young woman with wide eyes and a soft smile, stood up as you approached. She wore a simple dress, but there was an aura of weariness around her, as if she had long accepted her fate. Her voice was soft but welcoming when she spoke.
“Remmick’s new one, huh ?” she asked, looking you up and down with a curious gaze. “I’m Lyla,” she introduced herself, extending a hand towards you. “Annie’s familiar. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. We all do eventually.”
You looked at her hand for a moment, your stomach turning. How could anyone get used to this ? You had seen the blood, smelled it. Felt the weight of it on your skin. You had seen what Remmick was capable of.
You didn’t take her hand, and after a moment of hesitation, she withdrew it with a soft chuckle, not offended. “You’re still fresh,” she murmured understandingly. “It’ll take time.”
Another figure stepped forward—tall, with sharp features and a quiet presence. His eyes were dull, as if the life had been drained from them long ago. He nodded at you but said nothing. You could feel the weight of his gaze, cold and distant. He looked like someone who had long since given up on hope.
“Don’t mind Aidan,” Lyla said softly. “He doesn’t speak much. He was one of the first brought in. He’s Stack’s familiar.” She glanced at you knowingly, her eyes narrowing. “Some of us don’t last as long as others. Don’t let that scare you.”
You swallowed hard, looking at each face in turn. They were all different, but the same in their quiet acceptance of a life they hadn’t chosen. Their eyes were haunted, but resigned.
“You’ll get used to the rules around here too,” Lyla continued, her tone more serious now. “Stick close to Remmick. Don’t step out of line. Don’t make waves. He’s not one to take kindly to disobedience.”
You felt a pang of fear, the weight of her words sinking in. You had already witnessed how quickly things could spiral out of control. Remmick’s smile, his twisted pleasure in your discomfort, still lingered in your mind. But there was something else too. A strange attachment, an odd affection from him that made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t quite place.
You looked around. Remmick had stepped away momentarily, talking to another vampire who had appeared from one of the nearby carriages. The moment he was out of earshot, Lyla leaned closer, her eyes darkening slightly.
“You’ll be fine,” she whispered. “He likes you. That means he’ll keep you around. But just remember—you’re a possession, not a person here. Never forget that.”
You wanted to protest, wanted to scream, but all you could do was nod weakly. In this strange, twisted hive of vampires and their pets, what else could you do ?
You were trapped.
Lyla’s words rang in your ears like a dull bell tolling in the distance—ominous and final.
A possession, not a person.
You stood there, surrounded by strangers who shared the same chain, the same fate, their expressions dulled by time and routine. You didn’t want to believe this was your life now. But as you looked around the circle—at the flickering firelight casting grotesque shadows across tired faces—you knew it was.
You were still staring at the fire when Remmick’s arm slithered back around your waist.
“There now, doll,” he murmured into your hair, his voice low and sweet, like poisoned honey. “They treat ye alright ?”
You didn’t answer at first, the tension in your shoulders betraying every thought racing through your mind. But then you nodded, barely, your lips pressed into a thin line.
Remmick smiled, pleased. “Good. I knew you’d blend in just fine. Some don’t take to it well—always fightin’, cryin’, refusin’ to listen. Makes it messy. Makes me messy.”
He turned you gently toward him, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand, eyes lingering a little too long. “But yer different, aintcha ? Got fire, but ye know when to keep it on low.”
The words made your skin crawl, but you forced yourself not to pull away. Behind him, Lyla had already moved on, settling down beside Aidan again.
“You’ll sleep with me tonight,” Remmick said casually, as if announcing the weather. “Best to keep ye close. First few days are always the hardest.”
A sharp chill twisted through your spine.
He leaned in again, lowering his voice. “Don’t worry, puppet. I’ll take good care of ye. I won’t bite—unless you ask me real nicely that is.”
There was laughter nearby. A low cackle from one of the other vampires watching from the shadows. It made you flinch, and Remmick chuckled at that, turning you with a firm hand and guiding you back towards his carriage. As you stepped away from the fire, the sounds behind you grew muffled, as though the world itself was slowly sealing you in.
You glanced back only once.
Lyla was watching you, her smile gone now, her eyes sharp with a kind of knowing pity. You weren’t sure what she saw when she looked at you—maybe someone who reminded her of herself. Or maybe it was just the face of despair.
Your eyes caught sight of the fire burning bright next and you stopped. The fire crackled, its orange and red flames dancing in the cool night air, casting eerie shadows on the faces of the vampires and their pets. The flickering flames seemed to beckon to you, promising an end to all the horror, the fear, and the suffocating uncertainty that had plagued you since the night Remmick had taken you.
You wondered how long it would take for the fire to consume you if you simply stepped into it. Would it be fast ? Would it hurt as much as you thought it would ? Or would it be a final release—a way to escape this twisted life once and for all ?
The flames roared in response to your thoughts, each crackle like a whisper of temptation. You felt the heat on your skin, the air thick with the scent of burning wood, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade. The others—Lyla, Aidan, and the rest of the pets—became distant, like figures in a fog. All that remained was the fire, and the suffocating weight of your own despair.
But as you stood there, frozen in your thoughts, you heard Remmick’s voice—low, mocking, but tinged with something darker.
“Thinkin’ ‘bout jumpin’ in, are ye ?” he asked, his tone playful. “That ain’t gonna get ye what you want, lass. Ain’t no release in that. I told ya, yer mine now. And I don’t take kindly to me toys tryin’ to break themselves.”
You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, reading you, studying you.
“You think this fire can end it all ?” he continued, his voice calm but menacing. “Nah. It’ll just burn ye up. And then where will ya be ? Gone. Just like that. Poof. A pile of ashes. Useless to me. Useless to everyone.”
You didn’t look at him. You felt something twist inside you—anger, frustration, and the overwhelming weight of your helplessness. But you didn’t want to die. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. You couldn’t.
He stepped closer and slowly backed you away from the fire.
“Instead,” he cooed, “let’s see how long you last in me world, eh ?”
You shuddered, the desire for escape still lingering in your chest, but now you knew. The fire wouldn’t set you free. Remmick, in his twisted way, held that power over you. And whether you wanted to or not, you were stuck playing by his rules. The fire no longer looked like an escape. It looked like surrender. And he saw it. Remmick saw everything—your hesitation, your pain, the spark of rebellion trying to stay lit beneath the weight of fear. He fed off it. It thrilled him.
His hand slid slowly up your arm, deceptively gentle, but there was nothing kind in his grip. It was a warning.
“I’ll say it again, sweet thing,” he murmured, almost tenderly, but his breath was ice. “Don’t break yourself. That’s me job if it comes to it.”
You finally looked at him, really looked. The firelight made his face seem inhuman—shadows twisted across his sharp features, accentuating the unnatural stillness in his eyes. And yet…there was something feral in him, something restrained. A hunger barely tucked beneath that silken voice and practiced odd charm.
He was beautiful in the same way a tiger might be—impressive, powerful, deadly.
“What if I want to step into the fire and end it all ?” You asked and Remmick stayed silent for a moment before humming.
“You want to be ashes ?” he whispered, thumb brushing your jaw. “Who said ye were allowed to ? Have ye already forgotten about our lil’ rules ? Yer me responsibility, pet. And I would be real sad if you decided to deprive me of yer lovely company. And ye wouldn’t want me sad now, would ya ?"”
You jerked your face from his hand. Subtle, but he noticed. His smile curled into something crooked, pleased.
“Still got fight in ye. Good. Now, c’mon, pet. You’ve had yer moment. Let’s get ye warm somewhere else.”
You stared after him, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest as you stared at his back.
When the time came…You would burn him down to hell.
…
A few minutes before sunrise:
Without a word, Remmick took out heavy iron shackles, cold against your skin as he fastened them to your wrists, attaching them to the sturdy post of the carriage. The act was casual for him—like a routine he had done countless times before. Once the shackles were secure, he stepped back, admiring his work, his smirk wide. “Now, don’t go anywhere, darlin’. I’ll be back after me lil’ nap,” he told you, his voice dripping with sarcasm, though it still held that chilling undertone that made your blood run cold.
He then opened the lid of a box situated at the back of the trailer with a quiet, eerie creak. He glanced back at you, a final, mocking smile spreading across his face. “You’ll be safe here for the day, lass. Don’t try anythin’ funny. I’ll be right back when the sun sets again.”
Then, without another word, he climbed into the box, closing the lid with a dull thud that reverberated in the silence around you. You were left alone, shackled to the carriage, the stillness of the morning pressing in around you. The only sound was the faint rustle of the wind through the trees. You sighed. You weren’t going to resign yourself to this fate. You were going to find a way to escape. Maybe not today, but you weren’t going to just give in to this life. Remmick might have had the upper hand for now, but you weren’t going to let him completely break you. Not without a fight.
You closed your eyes for a moment, steeling yourself. Whatever came next, you’d be ready. Or at least, you’d try.
Lyla’s footsteps were soft as she approached and broke you out of your thoughts, the sound of her shoes on the grass muffled by the stillness of the morning. She came into view with a tray of food in her hands. She set the tray down in front of you, her hands gently brushing over the shackles as if she could somehow will them to vanish. Her gaze lingered on them for a moment, a silent understanding passing between you before she finally spoke.
“Don’t you worry, hon’. Remmick’s not cruel like this all the time,” she tried to reassure you, her voice low and comforting. “He’s just cautious. But, when he starts trusting you, he won’t keep you shackled anymore. I promise. It was the same when Annie chose me. She had to make sure I wouldn’t do anything to harm the hive.”
You looked up at her and almost laughed. How could someone like Remmick ever trust anyone ? And what did it even mean for you to be trusted by something like him ? You might as well sell your soul…Still, Lyla’s words offered you hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to change things. You looked inside the tray—bread, a few vegetables, and something that resembled meat, though you didn’t care to question the source.
Lyla smiled softly. “He’s not as bad as he seems. He just…needs to control things. If you show him you’re not a threat, he’ll ease up. He always did with the others eventually.”
You looked up at her. “What happened to them ? To the…other people he took as pets before me ?”
She smiled. “He turned most of them since they wanted to become vampires. He just had to wait to make sure they were ready and deserved to be part of the family.”
You knew you would regret asking—but still asked next. “What about those he didn’t turn ?”
At that, her smile faltered slightly. She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. Maybe she didn’t know and preferred not to. Or maybe she did and didn’t want to frighten you. Either way, you knew you didn’t want whatever fate came to those who disappointed Remmick.
Lyla’s gaze flickered to the carriage where Remmick had gone to rest. “Don’t worry. You’re strong. You’ll survive. I can see it in you. You can adapt—you can change. He likes people who can surprise him. Just…don’t let him get bored. I know it sounds crazy but….Remmick is a very simple man and he likes very simple things. Family, music, passion…He is very passionate. He won’t kill you as long as he can still sense passion inside you.”
You didn’t know how to respond to that. Maybe it was the weariness of everything, or maybe the fear that had taken root deep inside you. But for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to feel something other than dread—something faint, but growing stronger with each passing moment: the smallest spark of defiance.
“Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t want to be anyone’s pet—especially not his.”
Lyla’s eyes softened. “I know. But it’s not always about what we want, darling. It’s about survival. If you’re going to make it out of here with your soul intact, you have to play the game. You’ll see.”
You didn’t know if she was right. But you also didn’t know what else to do. You finally nodded. Lyla’s words echoed in your mind long after she left, the tray of food untouched by your feet. Play the game. That was what she said. You huffed and started eating.
You want to play Remmick ?
Fine.
Let’s play…
…
That evening:
You stared at the shackles on your wrists, the metal now warming slightly under the sun’s slow crawl through the trees. Every second Remmick slept in that box was one step closer to sunset, and the nightmare resuming. But you couldn’t sit here all day waiting. Not without trying something. The others were beginning to stir. You could hear distant murmurs—other “pets,” as they were so disgustingly called—moving about the camp. A laugh. A cough. The subtle noise of life continuing under the weight of captivity. And none of them tried to run.
Not because they didn’t want to. But because they knew better. But you didn’t know better. Not yet. And maybe, just maybe, that was your advantage.
You leaned forward, testing the slack in the chain. There wasn’t much. Just enough to sit upright, shift your position, maybe stand if you were careful. It was designed to humiliate—not to break your body, but to chip away at your will. And yet…something was off. One of the links near the post looked slightly thinner than the others—worn, maybe, or badly forged. You stared at it for a long time, then tucked the thought away like a blade hidden in cloth. Not yet. Not now.
You needed more than broken metal to escape. You needed a plan. A weapon. A place to run to. And someone willing to help. The thought of Lyla returned. Her sorrow. Her softness. She hadn’t just brought you food. She brought you a warning, disguised as comfort. He always eases up. But only if you stop being a threat. If you become…tame. But you would never be tame. You just had to look it. That’s how you’d survive. That’s how you’d earn his trust.
And then, when the moment was right…You would stop playing the game. You would end it. But, Lyla had also said not to bore him…You wondered how to do that ? So far, the only moments he had seemed to enjoy himself were moments when you had tried to defy him. Was that what he wanted ? Was that something he enjoyed ? Suddenly, the lid from the box went off inside the trailer and there he was.
He smiled at you.
“Here ye are, me dolly !”
You stiffened as Remmick’s voice reached your ears, the smooth Irish drawl dripping with a mixture of amusement and something darker. Your gaze remained fixed ahead, pretending not to notice that he was awake. Your heart thudded loudly in your chest, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear. You tried to step away, but the chain tugged at your wrist, the weight of your situation pulling you back into his grasp.
Before you could make any further attempt to retreat, his hand shot out and seized your arm, his grip firm as he forced you closer. You looked up at him—eyes cold, face set in a mask of defiance, though your pulse betrayed you.
His smirk widened, knowing exactly how you were trying to keep your distance.
“Hey, me pet. Miss me ?” he teased, the edge of his voice as sharp as the fangs that were hiding behind that grin. However, he frowned at your answer.
“No,” you muttered firmly.
After a moment, he chuckled softly, tightening his grip as he stepped even closer. “Aw, don’t be like that, darling. I can feel it. Yer just a bit shy, aintcha ? But don’t worry, I’ll warm ye up.”
His voice made your skin crawl.
“Let go of me,” you demanded, glaring up at him.
Remmick’s eyes twinkled with malicious amusement as he slowly dragged you closer, so close you could feel his breath on your skin. “Now, now. Calm down, me pet. What’s gotten into ya ? Ye were so sweet last night. What made ya suddenly so hostile towards yer poor master, hmm ?” His smile widened, his sharp teeth glinting in the low light.
The suffocating heat of his presence filled the space between you, and every instinct in your body screamed to break free—to run. But the chain held you in place, and for all the words you could muster, there was nothing you could do but meet his gaze, steely and unyielding.
The vampire’s grin never faltered as he leaned towards you. “C’mon…Tell me, pet. Tell yer Master Remmick what happened and maybe he’ll be able to help ? I’ll make it go away.”
He sat you down on his lap, the cold, hard surface of his body pressing against you. He waited for an answer but got none and sighed. He then decided to grab his banjo. You were being cranky and he sought to soften you up with a bit of music.
“Sing,” he commanded, his voice soft but laced with expectation.
You stared back at him, defiant. “No.”
The vampire’s smile slowly faded, replaced by a low growl of displeasure. “Don’t push it, darlin’. I’m tryin’ to be nice. I ain’t used to puttin’ up with a disobedient doll fer more than a few nights.”
You huffed, your denial burning even brighter. “I wonder why…”
You were determined to test boundaries and see just how far you could go.
His eyes narrowed, the playful glint vanishing, replaced by something colder and darker. “I ain’t askin’ fer much, darlin’. Just a bit of obedience, a lil’ cooperation. Is that really so damn hard for ye to understand ?”
You stared back at him, your gaze hard. “Yes, ‘master’…or whatever…”
He chuckled, his lips curling into a smirk, amusement taking over his annoyance. “Don’t get cheeky with me, darlin’. I ain’t playin’ that game. You belong to me now. You’ll call me ‘sir’ or ‘master’ in public. And in private ? Well…You’ll call me whatever I tell ye to—like a good lil’ well-behaved pet should.”
You raised an eyebrow, a challenge in your gaze. “What now ? What should I call you ? Remmick ? Or was that just a fake name you gave me for the fun of it ?”
His lips twitched. “Remmick’s fine. But if ye ever feel the urge to get affectionate, ye can call me—”
You rolled your eyes, your patience thinning and cut him off. “Not interested.”
Some of the vampires who had just woken up started laughing or growling nearby. And some of the pets were actually horrified or in shock at your sudden defiance. You huffed. If Remmick wanted to get rid of you ? Then he might as well do it. But you were done being his nice little pet. You didn’t want his caresses or treats or anything else. You glanced around at the vampires nearby, your mouth curling into a sneer. “Bloodsucking fuckers.”
The other vampires snarled and bared their fangs, but Remmick’s smirk never faltered. With a commanding growl, he spoke to them. “Back off. Me pet seems moody tonight. Ain’t yer problem.”
The others instantly backed down, understanding who held the true power. His attention returned to you.
You scoffed, your words dripping with disdain as you dared to reply. “…Fuck you, demon.”
But instead of getting mad, Remmick chuckled at your curses, but his amusement was quickly replaced by a more dangerous edge. “Now, don’t ye use that nasty language when speakin’ to me, darlin’. I don’t like it when ye swear.”
You shot him a glare and then flipped him off, your determination unyielding. He didn’t like your curses ? Good. You wanted him to hate you. If he thought you would graciously offer your belly and submit—he had another thing coming.
His expression darkened, his grip tightening around you as his tone turned colder. “I’m givin’ ye a warnin’. Don’t push me. Especially if ye like yer fingers.”
Reluctantly, you lowered your middle finger, your rebellious streak still strong but you did like your fingers. “Sorry. It’s genetic. A human thing.” You grinned, clearly enjoying the small victory.
Remmick rolled his eyes, not buying your excuse for a second. “Sure, darlin’.”
Then his expression shifted to something playful again, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Ye know what ? I got one of those habits too. A vampire thing. Ready ?”
Before you could respond, he lifted you with ease and threw you into the air. You screamed, panic rising as your body went up in the air and fell towards the ground. But in a flash, Remmick caught you, his arms wrapping around you just inches before you hit the ground. He laughed, his deep voice vibrating through your body as he held you.
“First time catchin’ a flyin’ human. Ready fer another round, darlin’ ?”
You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, your heart racing. “No, no, no, no… Don’t you dare !”
He simply smirked, clearly relishing the fear in your voice. “Oh, darlin’…”
Before you could protest further, he tossed you in the air again. You screamed, your fear turning into pure panic.
“YOU ASSHOLE !” you yelled, your body twisting mid-air as you waited for him to catch you again, the blood pounding in your ears.
The vampire’s laughter echoed in your ears, a chilling sound that seemed to enjoy every moment of his entertaining game. “Don’t whine now, darlin’. Yer gonna be doin’ a lot of flyin’ with me.”
He caught you again, a smirk playing on his lips at your heart pounding in your chest and as you literally clung to him with both arms and legs. “Now that I know you’re afraid of heights, I’m gonna be takin’ ye higher and higher every chance I get…”
You screamed as he effortlessly loosened your hold on him and tossed you once more, the world spinning around you. “You’re gonna end up breaking my bones if you keep doin’ this, you idiot !”
His laughter rang louder, more sinister. “Just gettin’ ye used to the sensation, darlin’…This is gonna be yer life from now on, I’m afraid…and I’m gonna relish every scream you make.”
By the time he finally stopped, you were shaking, your breath coming in short bursts. You could feel the adrenaline still rushing through your veins, your body stiff with fear.
“Please…stop.” You finally begged and held him tightly—breathing heavily against his neck as you tried not to vomit. One of your hand was almost digging into his head and the other in his shoulder as you desperately tried to stop him from throwing you up in the air again. “I’ll stop being rude…just please. No more of this or I will die. My heart will stop.”
Remmick smirked at the plea in your voice and knew that he had won. He relented, a smug expression curling across his face. “Oh, fine…fer now. I’ll save the torture fer later.”
You were left panting, your body trembling from the shock of the repeated tosses. The world still spun around you as you clung to his neck, trying to catch your breath. Remmick’s chuckles were dark, rumbling from deep within his chest, but he finally set you down gently on the ground, his fingers lingering on your skin, just in case you would fall straight to the ground.
“Aww…What’s wrong, lassie ? Can’t handle a lil’ uppies session ?” He taunted you with a smirk full of smug satisfaction.
You glared at him, still trying to steady yourself, but your voice was hoarse. “You’re a monster…”
His smirk never faltered. “Oh, darlin’, you don’t even know the half of it.”
The other vampires who’d been watching, their fangs still bared and their expressions twisted in varying degrees of hunger and amusement, slowly started to step back, their interest in you fading as Remmick regained control over the situation.
Lyla, who had been hovering in the background, stepped forward, her expression a mixture of concern and quiet resignation. She glanced at you, her eyes softening with sympathy. “Master Remmick, please, do not push her too hard. It has only been a couple of nights. She just…”
He shot her a warning look, his gaze dark and challenging. “She’ll learn. She has to. Now get back to your own master, lassie. Annie must be wonderin’ where ye went.”
Lyla sighed, shaking her head. She shot you one last glance before stepping back. “Stay strong,” she whispered under her breath, and then disappeared into the shadows—back to her own master.
Once she was gone, Remmick returned his attention to you.
“Let’s get one thing straight, darlin’,” he said, his tone dark and serious. “Ye belong to me now. You’ll get used to it, and you’ll like it eventually. This isn’t some game. This is yer life now.”
You clenched your fists, the rage within you bubbling to the surface once more. “You’re wrong. I won’t get used to this. I won’t ever like it.”
Remmick stepped closer, his face inches from yours. His eyes were cold, but there was something in them—a dark amusement, mixed with the weight of authority—that made your stomach churn.
“Oh, darlin’, you’ll come around,” he whispered with a smirk. “You’ll see.”
His words echoed in your mind, chilling you to the bone. You weren’t sure if he actually believed what he was saying, but it didn’t matter. You wouldn’t let him win. You couldn’t.
…
For the next few nights, you remained shackled to Remmick’s trailer. Every so often, Remmick would appear, casually strolling in with an eerie sense of satisfaction, bearing a new gift.
At first, it was a brooch—delicate, intricately designed, and clearly stolen from a victim. Its dark, weathered beauty sent a shiver down your spine, but you refused to acknowledge it. His eyes would gleam with pride as he presented the object to you.
“Ye like it, don’t ya, darlin’ ? Innit pretty ?” he’d ask, his voice dripping with amusement, though his tone was just a touch of mockery.
You refused to respond, your eyes narrowed, refusing to show any interest. But he didn’t seem to mind; he simply dropped the brooch on the floor in front of you and sauntered off.
The gifts continued: a delicate necklace made of silver and blood-red jewels that looked far too beautiful to have been anything but plundered from a corpse. His eyes would sparkle when he’d hand them over, watching your every move as if waiting for you to break, to show some hint of gratitude, or even just curiosity.
“See, darlin’ ? I know how to treat me special dolls,” he’d croon, always reveling in the sick pleasure of your silent disdain.
Then came the earrings—simple, but elegant. You stared at them for a while, wondering who the unfortunate soul had been. He seemed to take great delight in the thought that you might be considering their origins.
“Ye like those ?” he asked one night, dangling them just out of reach, taunting you. “They’re the best I’ve found so far. Real fine quality.”
You refused to take them, even though the beauty of the jewelry almost tempted you. The thought of touching something that had once belonged to a dead person—and had come from his hands—made your skin crawl.
Every time, you would remain silent. Your response to him was one of defiance, even in the face of his twisted generosity.
And each time, Remmick would leave you alone with the gifts, taunting you with the thought of them being so close, yet so far from your grasp. He knew you wouldn’t accept them, but that was part of his game—the pursuit, the insistence that you would come to him eventually. Despite your anger and resistance, the days wore on, each one blurring together in a haze of unease and fear. You hated the way he was slowly eroding your resolve, bit by bit, with every visit, with every gift. He had a way of wearing you down, his presence so overwhelming and unyielding, it felt as if there was no escape.
But no matter how much he tried to get you to accept his offerings, you refused. You couldn’t let him win. Even if it was only through the smallest acts of defiance, you would resist him—because if you gave in to him, even in the slightest way, it would mean surrendering everything.
“Not taking me gifts, darlin’ ?” he’d ask with a knowing smile when he’d see you leave them untouched. “After all the trouble I suffered to get ‘em and give ‘em to ye ? Am hurt. Truly. But…I suppose we’ll just have to see how long that lasts, won’t we ?”
And you would stare back, your expression hard, but beneath the cool mask of defiance, a part of you wondered how much longer you could keep this up before the weight of your situation would finally break you. For now, though, you held on—clinging to whatever remnants of yourself you had left, despite the chains that bound you, the gifts he left, and the darkness of his presence that slowly began to seep into every corner of your life.
…
A few nights later:
The night had passed in its usual eerie silence until you heard it—an unsettling, low whine that echoed through the walls of the trailer. It wasn’t a sound you expected to hear. You peered inside the trailer—curious. Was that Remmick ? What was going on ? You had heard him do and say many things. But, this was different. His voice was strained, filled with an animalistic desperation, as though he was fighting something internal and out of his control inside his box.
Your curiosity, mingled with a sense of unease, pushed you to your feet. You tugged at the chains reflexively, but there was no escaping the confinement, so you carefully moved towards the box. You hesitated before taking a tiny look, peering inside to find him thrashing, his hands curled into fists as he twisted inside his prison-bed. His face was contorted in pain—something was tormenting him. The usual confident, unnerving smirk that always tugged at his lips was gone. Instead, his mouth was open, letting out animal-like whimpers—like a wounded beast.
You didn’t know what to do. The Remmick you knew was not the type to show weakness. He was always the predator, never the prey. This…this wasn’t like him at all.
You watched for a moment longer, unsure of how to handle the situation. He groaned again, louder this time, and you could hear the desperation in the sound. Your chest tightened as a strange sympathy for him stirred, even though everything inside you screamed that this was wrong. That this was some kind of trick, a manipulation to draw you in, to make you soften towards him.
But as you stood there, uncertain and unsure, the instinct to do something—anything—took over. You sank to the floor in front of the box, your body tense as you rested your palm on the surface of the box. The cool wood felt oddly comforting beneath your fingertips, grounding you in the midst of the strange moment. You could feel the vibrations of his groans through the box, his body still writhing in torment. You didn’t know what kind of nightmare could be twisting him so badly, but you felt compelled to stay. To offer something, anything.
“Remmick ?”
The groaning stopped for a brief moment, and the silence was deafening. Then, just as quickly, he let out another low moan, the agony in his voice palpable. You bit your lip, a wave of uncertainty rushing over you. Hesitating for only a second, you slowly pressed your palm more firmly against the surface of the box, as if somehow, that small gesture could offer him some sort of comfort.
Another groan escaped his lips, this one lower, almost guttural. “No…please…” he mumbled, his voice faint, almost unrecognizable.
…He was clearly scared.
You furrowed your brow, unsure of what to do next. You had no experience with this—no experience with him like this. But some part of you didn’t want to leave him in his suffering, even if it meant putting aside your hatred for a moment. You swallowed hard, barely daring to speak as you repeated his name, this time more firmly. “Remmick, what’s happening ?”
There was no response at first. His groans quieted for a moment, and you almost wondered if you’d imagined the whole thing. But then his voice cracked again, that broken whine slipping from his throat, so much more vulnerable than you had ever heard him.
“I…can’t…” he whimpered, sounding so far removed from the taunting predator you knew him as.
Something inside you shifted—a strange, reluctant empathy for him, despite everything that had happened between you. You weren’t sure if you were doing the right thing, or if this was some kind of trap, but all you could think of was that he was hurting. Whether you liked it or not, you couldn’t just turn your back on him now.
“Hey. Everything’s alright, okay ? You’re safe…” It felt almost ridiculous, offering comfort to a monster like him, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this was real.
His body jerked violently inside the box, and for a split second, you thought he might lash out at you, but then he simply collapsed into silence. His breathing was ragged, and you could hear the exhaustion in every breath he took. You didn’t know what to do beyond the simple touch of your hand against the box. But you stayed, waiting for him to regain control, unsure if you should say more. You had never seen Remmick so…human before. And while you would never admit it, that moment made you question everything you thought you knew about him.
And about yourself.
…
The next night, you didn’t speak about what had happened during the day. The flickering flames cast wild shadows as the vampires were all reunited once more around the fire, making the camp look like something out of a fever dream. You could see Remmick, wild and free, dancing with the crowd after they had fed once more. His feet moved with precision, a blur of quick steps that made you pause, staring in awe at the speed and rhythm of his movements.
Irish dance, you realized, the steps so fast they looked like they could fly off his body at any moment. He laughed, a sound so unburdened by malice that it seemed foreign coming from him. It was a joy you hadn’t seen from him before, not in the way it radiated out of him now, his face illuminated by the firelight. For a moment, he looked like the man you had met that night when he came to your village.
You felt a strange tug, a sense of something—maybe longing, maybe curiosity—that pushed you to stay where you were, hidden in the shadows of the trailer. The horses were nearby, their breath steaming in the cold night air, but you were too focused on the memory of his steps to pay much attention to them.
Slowly, and with a hint of hesitation, you began to mimic his movements. At first, it was clumsy, your feet tripping over themselves, each step too wide, too stiff. You had little experience with dancing, much less something as precise and fast as Irish tap dancing. But still, you tried, feeling the rhythm build in you, even if it was a shaky imitation. You smiled to yourself and closed your eyes as your feet started stomping on, tapping and stomping the ground.
You didn’t notice when Remmick stepped out of the firelight circle and moved closer to the trailer—wondering where you had disappeared to.
It wasn’t until you felt the shift in the air—the faintest crackle of energy—that you realized he was watching. You froze, half caught in a step, one foot lifted in midair as your heart skipped. But he didn’t say anything. He simply leaned against the side of the trailer, arms crossed, a small amused smile tugging at his lips. His expression was soft, almost fond, as he observed you. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The fire crackled, sending sparks into the air, but all you could hear was your heartbeat. Remmick didn’t mock you, didn’t tease you, just watched you from the shadows, his eyes flickering with amusement.
You felt a warmth spread in your chest despite the cold night air, a strange sense of camaraderie that you hadn’t expected. There was no mockery, no cruel remark. He was simply there, watching you dance in your own uncoordinated way.
The silence between you both stretched for a while before he finally spoke.
“Havin’ fun, dolly ?” he asked, his tone light, almost teasing but without the usual bite. “Keep at it, and ye might just get the hang of it.”
You blinked, surprised by his comment, and then, without really thinking, you let out a breathless laugh, the tension easing in your shoulders. “I don’t know if that’s true. I feel like I’m tripping over my own damn feet here.”
Remmick pushed himself off the trailer, stepping closer to you—but not too close. Instead, he gave you space, just enough for you to feel his presence but not so much that it was oppressive.
“Ye just need practice, honey,” he told you.
You stood still for a moment, considering his words. The warmth that had blossomed in your chest stayed there, lingering longer than it should have. It was strange—this moment of connection, of unexpected kindness from him. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you realize there might be more to him than you’d thought.
For a moment, you didn’t mind that he was watching you. You didn’t mind at all.
Remmick’s grin widened as he stood next to you, his movements sharp and fluid as he proceeded to demonstrate the steps to you. He didn’t rush—he simply showed you, step by step, with the same casual confidence that made him so dangerous and yet, oddly, reassuring.
“First. Foot here,” he instructed, lifting his right foot and placing it firmly on the ground, a steady foundation. “Then here,” he added, guiding his foot to a new position with smooth precision. “Then there,” he finished, completing the step with a flourish.
You watched his feet closely, trying to mirror the movement, your body stiff and unsure. But Remmick was patient. His gaze never left you, and he didn’t smirk or laugh at your clumsy attempt. Instead, he nodded approvingly as you tried to follow his movements.
“Now, faster,” he urged, a glint in his eyes that made you feel both challenged and…oddly encouraged. He demonstrated again, quicker this time, the steps flowing into one another with fluid grace, the sound of his feet striking the ground in perfect rhythm with the pulse of the night. You tried to follow, the movement awkward at first, your feet stumbling over themselves. But there was something in the way he moved, something in the way his confidence made you feel like you could do this too.
“Faster, huh ?” you muttered under your breath, focusing harder as you tried to speed up. It felt like you were tripping over air, but Remmick’s voice was there, soothing as he corrected you with gentle guidance.
“Foot here. Now here. Then there,” he repeated patiently, moving with you, showing you again. The rhythm of his feet became contagious, the beat pulsing through you as you tried again, your feet growing less awkward with every repetition.
The firelight flickered, casting long shadows over the both of you as you danced next to each other, and for a moment, the world outside this moment faded. It was just the two of you—his guidance, the rhythm of the dance, and the strange, unspoken understanding between you.
When you finally moved through the steps without stumbling, he let out a low chuckle, his eyes bright with amusement. “Look at ye, darlin’,” he noted appreciatively, giving you a proud grin. “Ye gettin’ the hang of it pretty good.”
You stopped, breathless but with a grin tugging at your lips, a small but genuine accomplishment simmering in your chest. “You really think ?”
Remmick took a step back, watching you carefully, the soft glow of the firelight outlining his features. He didn’t look like the same man who had teased and mentally tortured you for nights on end…
“Just keep practicing, doll. You’ll be dancing like me in no time,” he promised you and smiled—a genuine smile. There was something warmer to his smile—tender almost.
For a moment, you stayed silent, processing the shift in the air between you two.
“Thanks, Remmick,” you replied softly, offering him a brief smile before returning to your position, eager to try the steps again, more confident this time. He chuckled but didn’t comment, merely crossing his arms and watching as you danced, his eyes following your every move with an approving glint.
“Me thinks we gonna make ye a professional Irish tap dancer in no time, me dolly.”
Remmick’s presence beside you gave you just enough confidence to believe, if only for a moment, that you might actually get it right.
But confidence had its cost.
You lifted your foot for the final tap and stepped just a little too far back. The loose gravel shifted beneath you, and suddenly the ground tilted—the world slipped. You let out a startled gasp, arms flailing as you tried to catch yourself.
Before your body could hit the ground, a firm hand closed around your waist.
In a blur of motion, Remmick pulled you back towards him, your momentum swinging you forward—and instead of stopping, he spun you. Your breath hitched as he guided you in a full circle, your feet barely brushing the ground, his arm secure around your middle as he laughed. The world wheeled past in firelight and sparks and shadows, until he slowed and brought you to a clean, almost theatrical stop. One of his hands found yours without thinking, the other still bracing your back.
For a second, neither of you moved.
You were inches from him, your breath uneven, caught between shock and thrill. His eyes flicked over your face—not mocking, not smug. There was surprise there. Maybe wonder. Maybe...something you didn’t want to name yet.
“You alright there, lassie ?” he murmured and his eyes gave you a quick once-over.
You swallowed, nodding slowly as you caught your breath. “Yeah. Just...missed a step.”
He didn’t let go immediately. Neither did you.
“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, and this time there was the ghost of a grin on his face.
You laughed, breathless. “Hey. That was gravity and panic, alright ?”
He tilted his head, considering you. “Maybe. But for a moment...ye actually looked happy, lassie.”
That made your heart stutter.
He let go then, slowly, his fingers brushing yours just a second longer than they needed to. He stepped back, but not too far—just enough for air to pass between you again, enough for the moment to settle between you like ash from the fire.
“Let’s try it again,” he said quietly. “This time, I’ll catch ye before ya fall.”
You didn’t doubt that he would.
You steadied yourself, still catching your breath from the unexpected spin, when Remmick took a step back, eyes watching you intently. Then, without warning, he spun on his heel and darted in front of you. You blinked in surprise as he landed squarely in your path, boots tapping a rhythm into the dirt that made the earth seem to thrum beneath him. His shoulders rolled back, chest lifted like a showman stepping onto a stage.
“Alright then, dancer,” he declared, laughter already bubbling in his throat as he then challenged you. “Yer turn now. Let’s see what ye got.”
You hesitated for half a beat, but then your feet moved—on instinct, on rhythm, on the sheer stubborn urge not to be outdone. Gathering the rhythm you’d just learned, you lifted your foot and tapped it out: left foot up then down, right foot up then down, left, right…Then, barely daring, you added the little hop he’d shown you. The gravel under your boots crunched in time, sparks from the fire catching the movement of your feet. You stomped the beat he’d taught you, mimicking the steps as best you could, moving forward even as he matched you, step for step.
For a few seconds, it was awkward—a stumble here, a missed tap there—but it didn’t matter. Because Remmick was laughing.
A real laugh.
Not the cold, taunting chuckle you’d come to brace for—but something honest, bright, sharp with joy. It escaped his lips like something unguarded, and for a moment, he looked completely disarmed.
Remmick’s eyes lit up and he chuckled—a rich, warm sound that echoed against the night. Encouraged, you pressed on, matching pace and then quickening the beat: tap–hop, tap–hop, until your legs felt like hummingbird wings. Suddenly, he laughed again and, almost on impulse, mirrored your steps. His feet flew in perfect rhythm: a flourish here, a stamp there, each motion precise and alive.
“You tryin’ to steal me spotlight, dolly ?” he teased, his voice breathless from the laughter. “Because yer makin’ a fine mess of it !”
“That’s not fair ! You jumped in front of me !” you shot back, matching his grin, breathless and a little wild with giddiness.
“And yet here ye are, still tappin’ along,” he said, lifting his foot in a flourish and tapping out a rhythm that challenged you to follow.
You met him step for step now, the two of you mirroring each other, dancing in sync—his precision and flair meeting your determination and growing confidence. Your shoes struck the dirt, echoing off the trailer walls and the trees beyond, and for a few heartbeats, it felt like the rest of the world had gone still, watching.
He twirled again and your promptly followed. “Ah ! That’s it, lassie ! Look at ye ! Me pretty lil’ dancin’ queen !”
You snorted. “Please, I look like I’m trying to chase off ghosts.”
“Aye, and dancin’ ‘em straight back to hell, I’d wager,” he laughed, stepping closer now, tapping a slower rhythm, waiting for you to match.
You did. And when you moved in time with him, he gave you a crooked, approving smile.
The fire cracked behind you, the night wind rustling the horses and tents, but neither of you noticed. Not when your feet moved in tandem and your laughter mingled with his, echoing into the dark like a promise.
Just for tonight, it wasn’t hate. It wasn’t fear. It was dancing. It was you and Remmick, face to face, tapping out a rhythm that no one else could follow. You were sweating and exhausted…but when you looked up and saw the genuine smile on Remmick’s face.
…You realised you could have danced all night that you wouldn’t have complained once.
WARNING: POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOUR AND DEATH OF MINOR CHARACTERS IN THIS CHAPTER ! BLOOD ! NOT FOR MINORS OR SENSITIVE SOULS !
Synopsis: You let him in ? Now, face the consequences.
(This is my first Sinners fanfic. I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. Also, you have French ancestry here.)
The scent of roasted meat and sweet cinnamon filled the air, wrapping itself around laughter and the lively sound of fiddles. The neighboring village’s festival was in full swing, spilling over with cheer. String lights crisscrossed above, glowing amber against the twilight sky. People danced in pairs, whirling and stomping to the beat, while children darted between tables with sticky fingers and half-eaten pies.
You were seated on a bench near the firepit, a flaky pastry cradled in your hand. It was warm and sweet, filled with something jammy that stuck to your lips. You had just taken a bite when the knock came.
Knock-knock.
You blinked, brushing crumbs from your mouth as you rose. You made your way towards the wooden gate that separated the garden from the winding road, the music slightly muffled behind you.
When you opened it, you saw him.
A man with bright eyes and windswept dark hair grinned at you. A banjo was strapped across his back, and his shirt was rolled to the elbows, streaked faintly with road dust. He stood with the ease of someone who traveled often, who’d seen a dozen roads and made friends in every town he passed. Behind him stood two others—one, a quiet woman with dark hair, a blue dress and a tambourine at her hip, the other a man holding a lantern and wearing a wary sort of smile.
“Hey there !” the first man greeted, his voice thick with a warm Irish lilt. “Me name is Remmick. These two next to me are called Bert and Joan. And me friends and I are travelin’ musicians. We heard music and thought we could maybe join ye happy bunch ?”
His smile was so bright, so full of good cheer, you couldn’t help but mirror it.
“Where are you all from, friends ?” you asked, tilting your head.
Remmick chuckled, eyes dancing. “Ah, here and there. Wherever the music leads, really. But most recently ? A little place past the Ridgefolk Hills—though I reckon that name means nothin’ unless you’ve lost a boot in its bog.”
You laughed softly.
The woman beside him added, “We’ve played in towns where the lanterns don’t go out ‘til dawn. Thought we’d see if this one keeps the same rhythm.”
Remmick tilted his head, still grinning. “Ah, we’re from all over, really. Bits o’ the Isles, some time in the south…but right now ?” He winked at you. “We’re from wherever the road takes us—and tonight, I’m hopin’ that’s here.”
You glanced back at the flickering lights, the sounds of joy and clinking glasses behind you, and then to the trio at your gate.
“Well,” you said, stepping aside with a smile, “no reason to keep music waiting. Come on in.”
Remmick’s grin stretched even wider—wolfish and warm all at once—as he tipped an invisible hat. “Much obliged.”
The woman beside him gave you a grateful nod, her long fingers tightening on the neck of her instrument. She had sharp eyes that missed nothing, and you got the sense she was the one who made sure the group didn’t starve or freeze when the road got cruel. The tall man murmured a thank you under his breath as he stepped inside, looking a little like he’d never seen so many lights in one place.
The moment their boots hit the flagstone courtyard, the party seemed to notice them—people turned, curious, expectant, drawn by the presence of strangers like moths to a new flame. A hush fell, not of suspicion, but of curiosity. Somewhere, the fiddle player slowed, notes trailing into the night like a question waiting to be answered.
Remmick cleared his throat, lifting a banjo hidden behind his back. “Evenin’ folks,” he called out cheerfully, “I hope ye don’t mind us joinin’. We come bearing songs and no shortage of cheer.”
Someone—probably Maris, already flushed with too much elderflower wine—clapped and shouted, “Only if ya play somethin’ worth dancin’ to !”
That seemed to relax the atmosphere as some people started laughing around the garden.
Remmick gave a mock bow. “Challenge accepted, milady.”
Then the music began—low and playful at first, the woman’s strange instrument thrumming like the heartbeat of the earth itself. Remmick’s banjo played wonderfully, light and bright, and the tall man took out a pair of small drums, tapping out a rhythm that felt like feet hitting the road.
It was a sound that didn’t ask to be heard—it insisted.
And just like that, the courtyard was alight again, laughter rising like sparks from a fire, the party folding them into its rhythm as though they’d always been meant to arrive at your little party tonight.
And you—well, you stood at the edge, pastry forgotten, watching Remmick play and sing, wondering just how far these travelers had come from and how long they were planning to stay. His eyes met yours at times and you couldn’t deny that his smile did make your heart skip a beat. He seemed to be around your age. Perhaps a few years older—but attractive nonetheless.
As the final twang of Remmick’s banjo danced into the air, the crowd erupted into cheers and clapping, the kind that rattled tankards and lifted spirits higher than the smoke curling into the stars. You found yourself smiling without even meaning to, hands coming together in a steady, appreciative rhythm.
Remmick caught your eye once more and gave you a sly wink, still catching his breath, curls damp at the edges from the firelight’s heat. You were about to turn and fetch him something to drink when your father’s booming voice cut through the air like a blade through butter.
“Well now,” he said, too loudly and a little too proud. “That was fine, lad, real fine—but it’s my daughter who’s got the voice that’ll stop a room dead.”
Your heart stopped right along with the hum of the party.
“Pa,” you hissed under your breath, stepping towards him with your cheeks burning. “Manners. They’re guests.”
But he was already clapping a firm hand on Remmick’s shoulder, all hearty laughter and puffed-up pride. “You wouldn’t believe the songs she can sing. Clear as a bell, that one. Got it from her mother. Girl’s too shy to show off, but get her goin’ and you’ll swear the gods themselves hush just to listen.”
Remmick turned to you slowly, that grin of his curling again—but now with something softer at the edges. “Is that so, lassie ? Ye can sing ?”
You blinked, trying not to glare at your father, who now looked immensely pleased with himself and entirely unaware of the way your stomach had dropped.
“Well, sometimes,” you murmured, suddenly very interested in your shoes.
But Remmick only stepped forward, banjo cradled in one arm like a sleeping child. “Well, if ya ever feel like sharin’, I’d count meself lucky to hear it,” he encouraged you gently. “But only if it’s your idea, not yer Pa’s. I wouldn’t want to sound too pushy now…a’right ?”
He glanced at your father with a crooked grin. “Though I do appreciate a proud father. That’s a rare sort of music, too.”
The party had fallen into a hush again, but this time it was not out of curiosity—it was anticipation. You hadn’t stood in the middle of a crowd like this in years, not since you were a child humming lullabies in your mother’s sun-drenched kitchen, her flour-dusted hands clapping quietly along. But now, under the heavy dusk sky and the golden festival lights strung like constellations, you took a breath and let it catch deep in your chest.
Then you began to sing.
Soft at first, almost trembling, the words laced in French. But as the melody poured out—dark, rich, and aching with something deeper than memory—your voice steadied, growing bolder.
“J’avais un amant
Depuis quelques mois
Je l’aimais de toute mon âme
Mais il m'a quitté
Sans savoir pourquoi
Il a brisé mon cœur de femme…”
People began to stop where they stood. The clinking of mugs faded, the footsteps slowed. Even the children paused their games. The music of the words—foreign to many—was understood nonetheless. A woman scorned. Champagne-laced laughter masking the ache of a broken heart. Madness blooming like roses from betrayal.
“Et moi sur la table, j’ai pris un couteau
Et ma vengeance fut cruelle…”
Your voice rose, fearless now, resonating with the power of grief turned to fury, sweetness turned to steel. Some stared. Others closed their eyes, swaying. Your father had gone still, his pride now touched with something more reverent.
Remmick didn’t take his eyes off you. Not once. A smile graced his features as he heard your voice and his eyes glistening slightly. You thought it was because the song was rather melancholic, but his smile made you understand that he was admiring you and it made your heart race in your chest. Your voice became louder and trembling slightly under such a heavy look. It made your cheeks burn with heat—not only because of the effort.
“Oui, j'étais grise
J'ai fais une bêtise
J'ai tué mon gigolo !”
When you reached the final note, your voice trembling on the edge of that last, heart-wrenched word—
“Mon amant d’coeur
M’a rendu folle…”
—there was a moment of utter stillness following your performance.
Then came the applause.
It started slow, as if people were unsure if they’d been witness to art or a confession. But then it built, wave upon wave of clapping, cheering, even whistling from the back of the courtyard. People stomped their feet, raised their drinks, and called your name with giddy disbelief.
Remmick stepped forward, banjo hanging forgotten at his side. He looked at you with something unreadable in his eyes. His unmistakable smile making your brain forget all caution as he bowed slightly.
“Christ above,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear. “And here I thought I knew how to tell a story. Your Pa was right. Such a beautiful voice is meant to be heard.”
You looked at him and smiled, breath still coming in soft waves from the song, your voice quiet but steady.
“You are just as impressive, sir.”
Remmick blinked, like he hadn’t expected you to say that. Then that boyish grin returned—slower this time, softer around the edges.
“Careful,” he murmured, with a playful tilt of his head. “Flatterin’ a musician’s a dangerous game. We’re known t’follow compliments like hounds on a scent.”
He stepped a little closer, not enough to make it obvious, but just enough that you could smell the road-dust and campfire smoke clinging to his shirt. “But I mean it, lass,” he added, voice lowering a touch. “That wasn’t just singin’. That was…somethin’ else. Like ya sang straight through the air and stitched it shut behind ye.”
Before you could answer, a loud cheer broke out to your left.
“Oi !” shouted Maris again, already climbing up onto a barrel. “Someone get this lass a drink—and this poor fella too, he looks like he’s been struck dumb !”
More laughter followed. You felt so embarrassed at Maris’ words, the moment scattering like sparks in the wind.
Remmick chuckled, shaking his head. “Your people are wild.”
You raised a brow, lifting your skirt slightly in mock formality. “You’re not goin’ to run away now, are you sir ?”
“Not a chance.” He offered you his arm like a gentleman—albeit one with dusty sleeves and banjo-calloused fingers. “Now come on. I believe we’ve both earned a drink. And maybe, if I’m lucky, another song ?”
You stepped away with the Irish musician and smiled at your father who gave you a supportive thumbs up. He still hoped for grandchildren and he wouldn’t get mad if you married as soon as possible. You had tried to approach men before, but it was the first time you had felt such a connection with one of them. You liked him and he seemed to like you.
Once far away enough, Remmick stepped a little closer, still giving you that look—not of a man who saw a pretty girl, but of someone who had just stumbled across a secret, a buried treasure sung into the open. “That song…I’ve never heard anything like it. Who taught you that ?”
You glanced toward the edge of the festival, where the shadows had softened into the dark, and the music had shifted to something lighter now—something meant for dancing again. “My mother,” you admitted softly. “She used to sing it when she’d had a little too much wine. Always said French songs were the best for heartbreak. And she had had her fair share before meeting my father.”
Remmick nodded slowly, the corner of his mouth still curved. “Then I owe her a great deal…for passin’ that down.”
You smiled before you heard your father shout from behind you: “Young lad ! How about you invite my daughter for a dance before you both take roots, yeah ?!"
You shot a warning glance at your father who seemed unable to hold his tongue after the number of shots in his bloodstream.
Remmick chuckled awkwardly and hesitated, then offered his hand, with that charming, exaggerated flourish of a troubadour in a tale. “Would the lady do me the honor of a dance ?”
You looked at him for a moment—really looked.
In the golden spill of lantern-light, Remmick didn’t seem like the sort of man who belonged to one place. He looked like the wind—here for a moment, then off to some far corner of the world where the roads were still dirt and the stars still sang. And yet, right now, he stood still. Waiting. Just for you.
With a smile you couldn’t quite hide, you slid your hand into the crook of his arm.
“I suppose the lady would.”
His grin could’ve lit the road back to the mountains. “Careful,” he said, leading you gently back toward the music. “You keep sayin’ yes to me, and I’ll start thinkin’ I’ve got a chance with such a sweet girl.”
You laughed, low and warm. “I think you already do.”
He seemed surprised for a moment before smiling brightly at you. The music picked up—fiddles and tambourines and clapping hands—and the people had started to twirl again, skirts brushing the cobblestones, boots thudding to the beat. No one stared now; the spotlight had moved, the night embracing you like just another part of the song.
Remmick took your hand, one at your waist, light as a secret.
“A’right now,” he murmured, his Irish lilt softening with the moment, “don’t worry if you’re not good at dancin’. Just follow me.”
You did. And the night carried on—spinning, laughing, warm as firelight on your skin—and for just a little while, you forgot the difference between music and magic. The world around you blurred into rhythm and laughter—faces twirling, skirts flaring, the scent of honeyed pastries and woodsmoke curling through the air. Remmick guided you gently, never pulling, just offering. His hand was secure at your waist, fingers light on your skin, like he’d learned to hold fragile things without breaking them.
…You should have probably seen that something was not exactly normal with that man at that moment. But you were dancing and having fun. He was charming and you had had quite the exciting night. So you didn’t notice anything wrong with your dancing companion.
As the music slowed—just a little, just enough to let hearts breathe—he leaned in close, breath brushing the shell of your ear.
“I always wanted to dance with a pretty lady under the moonlight,” he whispered.
The words weren’t rehearsed. They didn’t tumble out with the smoothness of a practiced charmer. No, they were quiet, like something he’d kept tucked deep in his chest for a long, long time. You turned your face just slightly, close enough to catch the earnest gleam in his eyes—lit not by the lanterns but by the silver light drifting down from the night sky.
“And now ?” you asked, voice soft as lace.
He smiled, a little crooked, a little shy.
“Now I don’t know if I’m dreamin’…or just lucky as sin.”
The last note of the dance faded, swallowed into the soft hum of crickets and the murmur of full-bellied laughter. As people began to break off in pairs and groups, drifting back towards food and drinks, your father clapped his hands together with a booming cheer.
“Well now ! No one’s travelin’ tonight, that’s certain !” he declared, lifting a mug high. “We’ve got room in the village—and hearts enough to share it. These fine travelers stay the night, aye ?”
A chorus of agreement answered him. A few of the younger villagers, wide-eyed and rosy-cheeked from drink and music, eagerly stepped forward.
“They can stay at mine !”
“No, no—my place, I’ve got room by the fire !”
Remmick chuckled beside you, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly flattered but looking a little overwhelmed. “Saints, you lot are generous.”
Before any more offers could pile on, you moved without thinking—wrapping your arm around his. You felt him go still, just for a moment. His arm, solid beneath yours, warmed under your touch.
“Father,” you said, your voice clear, though not loud. “Would it be alright if Remmick stayed at our home tonight ?”
The words fell like a stone into the center of the crowd. Your father blinked, brows lifting high. Then slowly—so slowly—you saw the corner of his mouth tug upward.
“Is that so ?” he asked you, eyeing the two of you with the careful amusement only a father could muster. “Well, if that’s what you want, daughter.”
He glanced at Remmick, narrowing his eyes just slightly. “You’re under my roof, boy. Not just hers. You understand ?”
Remmick, to his credit, nodded solemnly—even as his eyes danced with that same crooked smile. “Aye, sir. Wouldn’t dream of disrespectin’ your hospitality.”
Your father huffed and turned away, but not before you saw the rare ghost of a grin flicker beneath his mustache. Still holding Remmick’s arm, you felt him lean a little closer, his voice warm by your ear.
“Didn’t realize I’d wandered into heaven,” he murmured and lifted a hand above his heart with a smile. “And right into an angel’s kind arms…I am deeply grateful.”
You tried not to smile too wide. It was foolish to feel so warm so quickly—but god, it was hard not to.
That night:
The table was lit by the soft golden glow of oil lamps, flickering shadows dancing across the worn wood and the carved plates. Your father ate with gusto, exchanging the occasional gruff comment with Remmick, while your younger cousin babbled sleepily about his favorite song of the night.
You had spent the better part of an hour preparing the meal—stew with root vegetables, herb butter on dark bread, and a honey pastry just like the ones your mother used to make. A small way to say thank you, maybe. Or maybe just a quiet offering, hoping he’d stay longer than a single night.
But now…Now your eyes flicked to the spot in front of Remmick. The food sat there, barely touched. His spoon stirred idly, but never lifted. The bread remained untouched on the edge of the plate. He’d taken one bite, maybe two—and then nothing.
A pang bloomed in your chest.
You looked away quickly, busying your hands with clearing crumbs, adjusting a napkin that didn’t need fixing. Maybe it wasn’t to his taste. Maybe travelers had finer food on the road. Or maybe…maybe you’d tried too hard. You bit your lip, forcing a smile when your father laughed at something Remmick said.
Then, from the corner of your eye, you saw him glance down at the untouched food again—then at you.
His smile faltered. And he leaned in, voice pitched low enough only for you to hear.
“Lass,” he whispered softly, “I need you to know… your cookin’ smells like a blessing. Truly.”
You blinked, surprised.
He gave a sheepish, almost guilty smile. “It’s not the food. It’s…me. I get…nervous, when I’m somewhere new. Stomach tightens up like a drumskin.” He looked away for a beat. “It’s stupid, I know. But I didn’t want ye to think I didn’t notice the care ye put in. Or that I am bein’ rude on purpose.”
He looked at you again, earnest and apologetic.
“Wouldn’t trade this meal for all the gold in the west.”
You smiled and nodded.
“Of course. No worries.”
Later, when the dishes were washed and the house had fallen quiet—save for the distant murmur of your father’s voice in the next room—you picked up the lantern and motioned for Remmick to follow.
“This way,” you said gently, your voice softer now in the hush of the hour.
He walked behind you through the narrow hallway, his boots light on the old wooden floor. You paused at a small door near the end, nudging it open. The room inside was simple—just a bed with a woolen blanket, a small washbasin, and a shuttered window that let in a sliver of moonlight.
“I hope it’s alright,” you said, setting the lantern down. “This was my brother’s room before he married and moved out. It’s not much, but it’s warm. And quiet.”
Remmick stepped in slowly, his eyes scanning the space, taking in the old books still stacked on the shelf, the carved initials in the wooden bedframe, the lopsided rug by the hearth. He smiled.
“It’s perfect,” he assured you, with that same soft sincerity he’d spoken with at dinner. “Better than a hundred inns with feather beds.”
You nodded, lingering for a moment, unsure whether to say goodnight or just walk away. There was something weighty in the stillness—like the hush after a song, when no one quite knew if it was truly over.
Remmick looked at you, one hand still resting lightly on the doorframe.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “Fer the song. Fer the food. Fer…all o’ this.”
You looked down, trying to keep your excuses from showing too obviously, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.
“I should thank you,” you replied, fingers brushing the edge of your sleeve. “For sharing your music…and your charming company.”
He let out a quiet breath of a laugh, one hand settling on the back of his neck as though unsure what to do with such a compliment. “Ah, now you’ve gone and made me blush,” he murmured, and his voice had that low, rough Irish accent that wrapped around the quiet like a blanket. “That’s not fair.”
You met his eyes again, and something warm passed between you—unspoken, still new, still fragile.
“I’ll let you rest,” you announced, stepping back just slightly. “It’s been a long day.”
Remmick nodded, though he didn’t move to close the door right away. “Sleep well, lass.”
And just before the door shut, barely a breath between it and the frame, he added, soft as a hum: “I hope I get to see you in my dreams tonight.”
You smiled happily at his words. You looked at Remmick as he stood there, the door now half-closed between you. But something caught your eye—something small, a glimmer in the soft light of the room. A simple band around his ring finger. Silver, unadorned, but it was enough to make your smile falter just slightly, just for a moment.
Your heart skipped. A wedding ring. Of course. You hadn’t thought about it before. You hadn’t even considered it. A band on his finger. A reminder that, despite the charm in his words and the way his laughter made the air around you feel lighter, he belonged to someone else.
“R-Right,” you stammered, feeling a strange warmth in your chest, trying to swallow the feeling that seemed to come from nowhere. “Goodnight then.”
Your voice wasn’t as steady as it had been moments before. You forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, not now. And before he could notice the flicker of hesitation, you stepped back, retreating into the hallway.
The door of your bedroom clicked softly behind you, and you leaned against the cool wall of the corridor, taking a breath that didn’t quite settle.
…Right. He was too good to be true anyway.
You went to bed.
A few hours later:
The moonlight filtered through the thin curtains, casting long shadows on the floor as you awoke in the dead silence of the night. The weight of sleep still clung to your eyelids, but a dry thirst tugged at your throat, urging you out of bed. You moved quietly, the cool wooden floor creaking underfoot as you tiptoed to the door. The house was still—too still. You padded softly down the dark hall, a faint shiver crawling up your spine as you neared the kitchen. Perhaps it was nothing. Just the wind, or the house settling. But when you reached the door, something—a noise—caught your attention. It was faint at first, like the scuff of shoes against the floor, and then a low, disturbing sound.
Curiosity got the better of you, and with a deep breath, you slowly opened the door.
What you saw made your breath catch, your heart slamming against your ribcage in a panic-stricken beat.
There, in the dim light of the kitchen, Remmick was hovering over your father. His hands were pressing down on your father’s shoulders with unnatural force, his face—his eyes—were different. Yellow. Glowing with an eerie, otherworldly hue. His chin was smeared in blood, and your father’s body lay limp beneath him, lifeless or unconscious—there was no telling which.
A guttural sound escaped your father’s throat, a noise that wasn’t quite a scream, but something worse, something terrible. You couldn’t even move. The sight of him like this—of Remmick—made your blood freeze in your veins.
Then, just as quickly as the horror settled in, a scream echoed from a neighboring house. It was loud, panicked, and unmistakably human. Remmick looked up sharply, his eyes flashing toward the source of the noise. The blood on his chin gleamed in the dim light, and he screeched.
In that instant, you locked eyes with him. And what you saw in his gaze was nothing short of predatory, feral even. His smile twisted, a dark amusement in the curve of his lips, and he wiped his chin with the back of his hand, as if it were nothing more than a passing inconvenience.
Tears blurred your vision, but you couldn’t stop them. You didn’t understand—how could you understand ? Remmick wasn’t who he had seemed. He wasn’t the charming troubadour or the gentleman who had danced with you in the moonlight. He was something else entirely.
With your heart pounding in your throat, you turned and ran. You didn’t think—just instinct. You bolted back to your room, the door slamming behind you as you locked it, every nerve on edge. You sank against the door, gasping for air, tears streaming down your face. What was happening ? What was Remmick ? Who was he really ?
You had seen the horror with your own eyes, but it didn’t make sense. It couldn’t.
The sound of the knock at your bedroom door sliced through the heavy silence that had enveloped you. Your pulse raced in your ears, your breath shallow and panicked. You pressed your back against the door, as though trying to melt into the wood, to make yourself invisible to whatever nightmare lurked outside.
Then, the voice. A soft chuckle, too familiar, too unsettling.
“Lil’ lassie. Open this door. I promise not to hurt ye.”
Remmick. The warmth, the charm, the music—it all felt like a lie now. His voice, once smooth and comforting, now held a twisted edge, like the calm before a storm. His words were like honey, but they dripped with something darker beneath. Your fingers trembled on the edge of the door, heart pounding in your chest as your thoughts spiraled. What was he ? What had happened to him ? What had you just witnessed ?
You wanted to scream, to yell at him to leave, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you held your breath, hoping the silence would swallow his presence whole. You locked the door and took a few steps back. However, the sound of the door splintering under the force of Remmick’s strength made your heart stop. You barely had time to react before he was in the room, his smirk dark and unnerving, like a predator who had caught sight of its prey.
“Dolly now…Don’t worry. Me thinks your voice’s simply beautiful. So, no harm will come to ye.”
His words dripped with a twisted calmness, but the underlying menace was unmistakable. He wasn’t here to comfort or protect; he was here to toy with you, to watch as you squirmed under his gaze.
Before you could even think to protest, Remmick casually walked over to one of your chairs, picked up one of your old teddy bears, and held it in his hands with an eerie fondness. He chuckled lowly, his eyes glowing a dark red, and you felt the hairs on your neck stand up in terror.
“He’s a cutie. Just like his missy…”
His gaze lingered on you, a cold smile spreading across his face, and you felt the overwhelming weight of his presence in the room. The teddy bear seemed so out of place in his hands, the innocence of it clashing with the dark intensity of his eyes and the blood still on his chin.
Tears stung the back of your throat, but you forced yourself to stay still. Fear gnawed at you, but you refused to show it. Not now. Not to him.
“Wh-What are you ?” you managed, voice trembling despite yourself.
He leaned back in the chair, his smile widening as he casually twirled the bear in his fingers, almost as if he were savoring your terror.
“Ahh, the questions you’re askin’,” he mused, his voice still that smooth Irish drawl. “I’m just a man, dolly. But sometimes…a man needs to be more than that, don’t ye think ?”
His words hung in the air like a promise—or a threat. You didn’t know which was worse.
Your voice cracked as you spoke, barely above a whisper, and yet it carried through the heavy silence of the room like thunder.
“My father…Is he dead ?”
Remmick’s fingers paused their idle play with the teddy bear. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. His red eyes studied you, as if weighing the cost of a truth—or the benefit of a lie. The smile faded from his face, replaced with something else…something that almost resembled regret.
He leaned forward slightly in the chair, elbows on his knees, his voice softer now.
“He…put up a good fight. Brave man. Loved his little girl sooo fiercely—he truly did. I did like him—a lot. But…the hunger was just too strong. Haven’t eaten in quite some time…It was almost a miracle me and me friends found yer village when we did—or else we would have starved to death.”
That was all he said.
But he didn’t need to say more.
Your breath hitched, your knees buckling slightly beneath the weight of his answer. You brought a hand to your mouth again, as though you could push back the sob clawing its way up your throat.
“I’m sorry, lassie,” he said quietly, but it didn’t sound quite like he meant it.
Your sobs broke free, trembling and quiet at first, then louder—like something in you had finally cracked. The room spun with the weight of it all: the music, the dancing, the charm in his voice, your father’s proud smile just hours ago. Gone. All gone.
Remmick giggled softly. That same sweet, lyrical sound he’d given you at the door, when he was just a traveling musician with a banjo and a charming grin.
But now—now it sent chills down your spine.
He leaned forward, still cradling the teddy bear with gentle care, and slowly reached towards you. With a strange, almost playful tenderness, he brought the soft arm of the bear to your cheek and dabbed away a few tears with the fabric.
“Now now, shhh…Dolly. No cryin’. Please. I didn’t mean to,” he murmured, almost singsong, like a lullaby meant to soothe a child. Then his gaze sharpened. His eyes glowed again—deep, hellish red—and the corner of his mouth twitched as he tilted his head slightly.
“But remember…” he whispered, voice curling into your ear like smoke, “you invited me in.”
The truth of it made your stomach twist. You had. You’d opened the door with a smile and let the devil step through.
And now ?
Now the devil was in your room…your home.
Your tears burned hot as they rolled down your cheeks, but you didn’t let them fall quietly anymore. You locked eyes with him—those glowing, inhuman eyes—and your trembling hand balled into a fist at your side.
You glared, voice tight and low, laced with grief and fury.
“Demon.”
The word hung in the air like smoke after a fire, and for a moment, Remmick said nothing. His smirk faded.
Then—he laughed.
Not loud. Not mad. Just a quiet, knowing chuckle, like you’d finally solved the riddle he’d been waiting for.
“Aye,” he said, setting the bear gently down on your bed. “That’s one word for it.”
He rose to his feet slowly, every movement deliberate, graceful—inhuman. His eyes never left yours. “But I’ve been called many things over the centuries, dolly. Demon’s just…one of the more honest ones.”
He took a step forward. Then another.
“But you—ah, you,” he said with a curl of his tongue, “you called me in with a smile. Sang your pain like a siren. And god forgive me—I listened.”
You stood your ground, though your legs trembled and your breath shook. Gritting your teeth, you summoned every last thread of strength left in your aching chest and hissed:
“Get out of my house, demon.”
Remmick stilled. The playful glint in his eye dulled. The smile slipped from his face, replaced with something cold—ancient. His head tilted back slightly, as if tasting your defiance in the air. The room felt colder now. As though your words had summoned something deeper from within him.
He stepped closer—just once. Just enough for his shadow to brush your feet. Then, in a voice far older than his grin, far darker than his song, he murmured,
“This house…was so full of light. Music, love, laughter. But now it’s soaked in blood.” He leaned in just slightly, eyes burning into yours. “You made it mine the moment you let me cross your threshold.”
And then—he stepped back. Just a bit.
His smirk returned, gentler this time, but mocking all the same.
“But if the lady insists…” he said with a low bow, like a twisted gentleman from a ballroom long buried. “I’ll go. For now.”
He turned toward the shattered door.
“But don’t forget, dolly…” he called to you, glancing back over his shoulder with one last flicker of red, “…I never leave without takin’ something with me. And if ye find yerself in trouble ? Call me.”
And with that—he disappeared into the dark.
With shaky legs, you stood up and ran into your cousin’s room and let out a sigh of relief as you found his asleep in his bed. You stepped closer and held him in your arms. He woke up and blinked several times before looking up at you with curiosity.
“Y/N ? Why are you crying ?”
You didn’t answer. You just held him closer and kissed his forehead.
“Nothing, little one. Just…return to sleep. I will be bringing you to the train station tomorrow to return to your Ma and Pa, okay ?”
He frowned in confusion. “What ?! No ! But I just arrived ! I don’t wanna go !”
He then stood up and ran. You ran after him. “No ! Come back !”
He went into the kitchen and slipped on something warm and liquid. He lifted a trembling hand and stared at the red substance and his eyes glassed over.
“W-What ?”
Suddenly, he heard a low growl and slowly turned around to find your father standing there. You stopped dead in your tracks and as your father lunged at the boy, you had no other choice but to grab your father’s pistol and shoot your own father in the head. Your little cousin was frozen in shock and fear and you quickly grabbed him before running outside to the shelter. You held the child against your bosom all night as you heard your own father growl and call for you outside. But you knew. This wasn’t your father anymore. He clawed and roared as you started praying and rocking your cousin back and forth to soothe him as he burst into tears.
The sun barely broke through the clouds the next morning, casting a dim, pale light over the village that your father started screeching in pain. You took a look outside and saw him burst into flames. He tried to get back in the house, but wasn’t fast enough. He dropped to the ground in a pile of rotten flesh and bones. You stayed immobile for a moment before slowly and carefully stepping out. You then gestured for your cousin to follow. He took your hand and once you were sure that danger had passed, you ran to the car and drove away.
You stopped at the train station and took two tickets. You gave one to your little cousin and he quickly got onboard…but you hesitated. You hadn’t buried your father, and who would protect the village once that your father was gone ? Your little cousin begged you to stay with him, but you only kissed his forehead and promised you would take the next one. The train left and you took a few steps back from the window. You followed the train with your eyes until it was out of sight and returned home.
…
The scent of damp earth filled the air as you stood alone, the weight of the shovel in your hand a stark reminder of the hollow emptiness that now defined your life.
Your father’s body lay beneath the earth, buried with the dignity he had deserved. But the ground felt so much heavier than it had the night before. You could still hear the faint echo of your father’s voice, feel his arms around you, the comfort of home—now shattered beyond repair.
But as you buried him, the village began to notice the emptiness of the houses nearby. The once-lively homes that had welcomed the travelers—now cold and silent. A dark curiosity swept through the air, a sick sense of unease that soon turned to whispers. It didn’t take long for those whispers to swell into something darker.
They came for you, as expected.
Whispers of witches and curses circled the village like a ravenous flock. Those who had once welcomed you with smiles now looked upon you with suspicion, their eyes narrowed, as if the very air you breathed was tainted. A man from the town square approached, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Demon’s daughter,” he muttered under his breath. “Witch…”
The rumors spread quickly. It wasn’t long before you heard them say you had brought this horror upon them, that your strange songs and otherworldly visitors were the cause of the deaths. They even claimed you had some unholy connection to the darkness that had claimed the others.
You tried to explain—tried to tell them that it wasn’t you, that it was him. But they didn’t believe you. To them, your grief, your silence, your sorrow—it all seemed like a cover. They looked at you like you had something to hide, like your very existence was cursed.
A few of the braver villagers called for you to be driven out. Others, more cautious, said you should be locked away. The older women whispered in hushed tones about curses passed down through bloodlines.
And through it all, you heard nothing but the distant, haunting echo of Remmick’s words:
“I never leave without takin’ something with me.”
And as much as you wanted to scream, to deny it, a part of you knew. You weren’t just a survivor. You were a target. Your father was dead and no doubt he had been meant to survive and join his legion of doom. But you had killed him…Remmick would come back to collect his due.
You were alone in the world now. Even your own people had turned against you.
The village had descended into madness. Your name, once uttered with kindness, had become a curse on their lips. You no longer had any allies—just a sea of fearful faces staring at you from every corner. Every day had been a battle to keep the worst of it at bay. But tonight…tonight it seemed as if the shadows had finally caught up with you.
The air outside was thick with the weight of impending violence, and you could feel it. It had started with murmurs at the market, then stares of contempt as you walked past the villagers. Now, as the moon rose high in the sky, the line between the world you knew and the nightmare you had tried to escape had blurred completely.
The door to your house—once a place of warmth—was torn open, splintering as angry hands and vengeful fists battered it down. Your heart raced as you stumbled backward, desperate, trembling. They were coming for you. The weight of their fear, their hatred, the burning need for retribution pressed in from all sides.
With nowhere else to turn, panic rose in your chest, squeezing the breath from your lungs. You ran to the small room that had once been a place of comfort. The walls felt like they were closing in, suffocating you. You were cornered. There was no escape.
And then, through the fog of terror, one name surged: Remmick. You didn’t think. You didn’t question. You just needed to survive.
You sank to your knees, the cold stone of the floor pressing into your palms as you whispered the words that had haunted you for so long—words of desperation, words you never thought you would say.
“Remmick…please…help me.”
A chill filled the air, so intense that it felt as though the very bones of your house had frozen over. The shadows in the room deepened, stretching unnaturally as the sound of the world outside—the pounding at the door, the shouts of the villagers—faded into a muted silence.
And then, with a slow, deliberate step, he appeared.
Remmick.
His presence flooded the room like a storm as he strutted in with a happy grin. His red eyes glowed in the darkness, his smile stretched wide across his face, sharp and knowing.
“Well, dolly…” His voice was a low, dark purr, full of amusement. “Seems ye’ve finally decided to call me.”
His eyes flicked toward the door, which rattled under the force of the villagers’ assault, then back to you.
“They’ll be at yer door any minute now… Would ye like me to let them in first, or shall I deal with ‘em right away ?”
A cold shiver ran down your spine as you looked at him. Your heart ached—not just from fear, but from the twisted mix of relief and terror that filled you. You had no choice. You had summoned him.
“Please…just stop them,” you whispered, barely able to breathe, still kneeling before him.
Remmick chuckled, the sound like the crackling of fire, dark and dangerous. “Stop them ? Oh, me dolly…” He crouched down to your level, his fingers brushing against your cheek with unsettling tenderness. “You called me, didn’t ye ? And I’m always here when someone needs me. Don’t ye worry. Nothin’ will happen to yer pretty face.”
He stood, moving to the door. With a flick of his wrist, the wood splintered. The villagers froze, their eyes wide with terror as they looked into the room.
“Now,” Remmick said with a grin, “Who dares to harm me sweet lil’ doll ?”
The room darkened further as he stepped into the doorway, his presence swallowing up the light. A low, guttural growl escaped him, vibrating the very air. The villagers stammered, fear clawing at their throats.
“W-Who…are you ?” one of them stuttered, backing away.
Remmick laughed darkly, his voice dripping with venom. “I’m the one who’ll be leaving with what’s mine…and trust me, nothing is more mine than this one right there.” He pointed a finger at you.
A wave of energy rippled outward from him, and you felt it wash over you—cold, powerful, as though his very presence was reshaping the room, reshaping the world. The villagers were frozen, paralyzed by fear, unable to move.
“Now,” Remmick said, his tone suddenly cold but his smile was still on his face, “Who’s gonna be first ? And please. Make it interestin’.”
The villagers stood frozen, terror paralyzing them as Remmick’s grin spread wider. The air was thick with the stench of fear, the kind that clung to the skin and made the heart race with helplessness. But a few of them, their desperation pushing them beyond reason, tried to fight. They lunged forward, weapons in hand—wooden clubs, pitchforks, anything they could grab in their panic.
One man, his face twisted with rage, swung a rusty iron rod at Remmick’s head. But the moment the rod touched the air near him, it was as if the world itself slowed down. Remmick didn’t even flinch. His eyes, glowing bright like two burning embers in the night, never left the man.
“Is that all ye’ve got, lad ?” Remmick purred, his voice dripping with amusement. Before the man could take another swing, Remmick moved, faster than a blink. With a sharp crack, he twisted the man’s arm, pulling him in close until their faces were mere inches apart. The man’s breath hitched in terror, and the scent of his sweat and panic flooded the room.
“Ye should’ve stayed away, boy,” Remmick whispered, his voice sweet like poison. His smile widened even further, his teeth glinting in the dim light. Then, with a swift motion, he wrenched the man’s arm completely from its socket, the sound of bone snapping echoing through the air like thunder.
The man screamed, a blood-curdling shriek that sent a jolt through the others, but Remmick didn’t let him suffer long. With a cruel laugh, he plunged his other hand deep into the man’s chest, tearing through skin, flesh, and bone as though it were paper. The villagers watched in stunned silence, unable to comprehend the brutality of it. The man’s blood sprayed out, staining the floor and walls as Remmick threw his lifeless body aside like a ragdoll. The body hit the ground with a sickening thud, blood pooling around it.
“Who’s next ?” Remmick’s voice was low, dark, and thick with pleasure, like a predator toying with its prey. He wiped his hand on the man’s clothing, dragging the blood over his fingers with a languid motion. “Come on then, let’s see who’s brave enough to join him.”
The villagers recoiled, their faces a mixture of disbelief, horror, and abject terror. But one woman, a brave fool, stepped forward. Her hands trembled, her voice cracked as she shouted, “Die ! Demon !”
Remmick turned his gaze toward her, his eyes gleaming. “Is that so ?”
Before she could even react, he was upon her.
With a flick of his wrist, he grabbed her by the throat, lifting her off the ground with one hand. She kicked and struggled, her legs flailing uselessly as she gasped for air, but it was no use. His grip was unyielding, cold as ice, and she couldn’t escape.
The other villagers screamed in terror, trying to run, but they were trapped. The door had been shattered, and the windows were too far away to escape through. It was too late.
Remmick slowly squeezed the woman’s throat, his grin widening with sadistic glee. Her eyes bulged, desperate for air, and her hands clawed at his wrist, but he didn’t let go. His eyes never left hers, savoring every moment of her struggle. With one final, brutal motion, he snapped her neck, the sickening crack of bone filling the room. Her body went limp, and he let her fall, her blood splattering on the floor with a wet thud.
“Not much of a challenge, were they ?” Remmick chuckled darkly, before licking and drinking from the blood that had escaped from the broken woman’s neck on his arm. He then took a slow, deliberate step forward, eyes never leaving the remaining villagers. The fear in their eyes was palpable, suffocating, and he reveled in it.
One by one, they tried to flee, but Remmick was faster, always faster. A man attempted to run for the door, but Remmick grabbed him by the back of the neck, lifting him off the ground and slamming him into the wall with bone-crushing force. The man’s spine cracked, his body going limp as he slid to the floor, a pool of blood quickly spreading around him. Once he was dead, Remmick drank straight from his shattered neck.
Another villager tried to tackle him, but Remmick effortlessly sidestepped the attack, kicking the man in the chest so hard that the air whooshed out of his lungs. The man crumpled to the ground, gasping, unable to breathe as Remmick loomed over him.
“Is this all ye’ve got, then ? A few desperate fools ?” Remmick purred, clearly enjoying the terror in their eyes. “Pathetic.”
The remaining villagers were paralyzed with fear, unable to make a sound. They had seen what he could do, and there was nothing left for them but to wait for their inevitable end.
“Now,” Remmick said, his tone casual as he wiped his hands on his bloody clothes. “Ye’ve all had a front-row seat. Time to meet yer maker.”
Without warning, he moved again, faster than the eye could follow. His hands flashed out, and the final villagers were torn apart in a flurry of blood and gore, their bodies falling to the floor in lifeless heaps.
…
The room was silent now, save for the heavy, uneven breathing of the demon. The stench of blood and death hung thick in the air, and the once-strong walls now felt like a tomb, closing in with the weight of what had just transpired.
Remmick turned to you, his red eyes gleaming in the dark. His smile was wide, almost too wide, as if the act of violence had only made him hungrier.
“Well,” he finally said, his voice filled with satisfaction, “That was fun, wasn’t it ?”
You could barely move, the shock of the scene still coursing through your veins. Your body trembled, but you weren’t sure if it was from fear or something else—something darker that you didn’t want to acknowledge.
You stood, staring at Remmick, your body trembling, heart still racing.
“You saved me,” you whispered, the words barely leaving your mouth.
Remmick chuckled.
“I always keep my promises, dolly,” he said softly, his voice smooth as velvet, but laced with something darker. “But remember…” He leaned in close, his breath warm on your skin, “I always get meself somethin’ fer everythin’ I do. And the cost fer yer life will be mighty expensive.”
Your heart skipped a beat.
His eyes lit up in the dark.
“Now, c’mere.” He swept you up in one smooth motion, arms like iron under your back and knees, and before you could even gasp, you felt the world tilt beneath you. His grin was wide, predatory—and for a breathless moment you wondered if you’d fallen into some nightmare you couldn’t wake from.
“Let’s fly, lassie,” he murmured, voice low and daydream-soft, though every word tasted like brimstone.
You felt the cool night air rush in as he burst through the window and out into the courtyard. One powerful leap, and the ground fell away beneath you both. Your heart slammed against your ribs as the wind tore at your hair and clothes; moonlight skittered across Remmick’s twisted smile, his eyes shining like polished amber.
Below, the village was a scattering of torches and panicked figures—tiny, scrambling things you could barely make out. Their screams rose to you in a distant chorus, but the air around you was so thin, so cold, that it almost felt peaceful.
Remmick’s grip never wavered. You pressed yourself against him, trying to anchor yourself to something real. Was he though ? You weren’t sure anymore…
Higher and higher you flew, the thatch-roofed houses shrinking, the forests beyond the fields dark and endless. He flew with a grace that mocked gravity itself, as though the stars were his to command. Every so often he glanced back at you, that same chilling smirk on his lips.
“Quite the view, innit lassie ?” he asked with a smirk on his face that made you want to fall and hopefully—the fall would be lethal. Yet even as your mind screamed to fight, a strange awe filled your chest: this creature had saved you and now carried you beyond the only home you’d ever known.
Soon, you reached a clearing, and what you saw made your breath catch in your throat. A ring of carriages stood like silent sentinels around a roaring bonfire that reached toward the sky, flickering with eerie red and gold flames. Figures danced in the firelight—figures who moved with an unsettling grace, their eyes glowing with hunger, their movements fluid and predatory. Vampires.
They twirled and spun in the heat of the blaze, their laughter high-pitched, echoing through the woods like the sound of birds in an endless night. The fire crackled and popped, sending embers spiraling into the dark sky, where the moon was nothing but a distant, cold witness to this dance of the damned.
Remmick led you into the center, where the vampires paused their dancing and turned their predatory eyes on you. Their gazes flickered between curiosity and hunger, but Remmick raised his hand, his grin wide and confident.
“Lads and lasses,” he called, his voice booming in the night, “this here’s our newest lil’ treasure. Meet her properly, eh ?”
A low murmur spread through the group, and several of them stepped closer, their eyes scanning you with hunger and amusement. They weren’t human, not by a long shot. But they looked…beautiful, in an eerie, dangerous way. Their skin shimmered under the firelight, and their lips curled into smiles that promised either death or delight—depending on their whims.
You felt a cold shiver run down your spine as their gazes focused on you, but Remmick’s hand was still firm on yours. You didn’t know what this place was, or what they expected of you, but you felt an undeniable pull to the night, to the fire, to Remmick. He chuckled and rested both hands on your shoulders and nuzzled the back of your ear playfully.
“Aww…see ? Ye already adopted. I was sure they’d love ye,” he whispered with that same wicked grin. “Welcome to yer new home, me pet.”
You closed your eyes as one of his hands wrapped itself around your throat from behind and you felt his already long fingers stretch into sharp claws.
I'm popping up this random Tuesday to share a few reminders with my fellow fanfic writers
Even your favorite authors had to work hard to get good. We are all awful writers until we decide to improve and take steps.
Every day is an opportunity to be a better writer than you were yesterday if you put in a little work
The love for your works must start with you. Be your own biggest fan
You're allowed to write at your pace.
its okay to embrace some "imperfections" in your writing. Imperfection is part of art because it makes you unique.
It's okay to let go of the writer you were yesterday. Change is normal and it's okay. You're still awesome and your new work will still have an audience. It's okay to look fondly upon a past you perceive as your "glory days" but don't let that make you insecure. Your heart of a writer and your creative talent remain true. Embrace the writer you've become and confidently run with it
Any story you come up with, and your writing style are both special and precious because it's your art
its okay to crave validation and compliments for your fanfic-writing. You poured your blood, sweat and tears into it like any other artist.
No matter how you feel about your writing, it is special because no one can do it like you.
It's okay to be satisfied with just being a fanfic writer. Having amazing writing talent doesn't mean you must force yourself to write original works or to be published.
