This Small Corner in the Woods
Summary: In the small neck of the woods in a newly found cabin, you and Remmick hide on the run from vampire hunters. One night Remmick suggests you coming hunting for blood with him and tensions arise between you two.
Tags & Warnings: Angst, violence, mentions of death, reader and Remmick is married, vampire reader, misogyny, no smut, slight fluff, over protective Remmick, vampirism elements, lots of mentions of blood, dark fanfic overall sorta, maybe a one-shot
A/N: This was only proofread once. Sorry for any grammatical errors!
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི ⁺‧
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི ⁺‧
Remmick, eyes creased with worry, he weakly smiles, blinking. He’s desperately searching for the right words to say to you. These days you’ve been looking quite paler with a pesky gloom clouding you.
“Hey, darlin, I’m gonna head out for a hunt tonight and,” his voice trails off, shoulders dropping as he sighs. Eyes closing.
Peeking up from an old, brittle book in your hands, you wait for him to finish. On a couch, you sit mermaid style, eyelids fluttering.
Silence fills the space between you two and it’s awfully loud as he swallows audibly.
Head slightly tilted, eyes squinting, you say, “why the long face, my love?”
Remmick sharply inhales before exhaling, bracing himself for what’s to come next. And he knows you’re not gonna like it.
“I was wondering if you’d like to get out of this cooped cabin. Have some fun with me tonight, actually drink some real blood that’ll leave you more rejuvenated unlike that cow blood.”
“No,” you blurt softly. You stare at him, voice still sweeter than honey, but the look in your eyes tells a different story.
Remmick sighs, pinching his nose bridge as his other hand rests on his hip.
“Then just tag along with me, darlin. You need some fresh air anyways,” he says softly, voice serene.
Now it’s your turn to sigh, the book in your hands closing—a soft thud. You gently shake your head.
“No means no, Rem. You know I don’t like drinking human blood.”
Remmick huffs a loud sigh. “Yeah, that’s the problem!” He throws his hands in the air and they fall back to his sides.
Brows knitted, your gaze darts to him by the front door. “Excuse me?”
Lips pursed, nostrils flaring, he throws a glare back at you. “You heard me. You’re always like this. Acting like you too good for hunting, for human blood. As if you above it all, drinking only from animals.”
Remmick’s feet are heavy on the wooden splinted floors, storming closer to you.
“Alright,” he begins, lips curling—a forced smile. “Then come with me tonight. Drink human blood. Simple.”
All you can offer is a stare. Eyes endlessly blinking as if he’s asking for you to slice the throats of thousands of innocents.
“Remmick, you can’t be serious right now,” you manage to breathe.
He nods, pursing his lips, sighing through his nose as he walks backwards. Disappointment glimmers in his round brown eyes.
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”
Springing to life from the couch, you throw the book somewhere on the floor.
“What? No,” you blurt, chest weighing heavy as stone.
“Then what is it, huh? I’m tired of tip-toeing around you when it comes to this. You don’t like coming hunting, okay that’s fine.” Remmick lists on his hands and continues, “I come home smelling and soaked in blood. You hate the smell even though it makes you visibly drool.”
“That’s not true. You take that back,” you snap, voice lacking any gentleness it possessed a few seconds ago.
Normally he would’ve stopped pressing this issue. He knows how it makes you feel. It’s a fragile area you hate exploring and it’ll make you crack, shattering all over the place.
But he doesn’t stop. No, Remmick keeps pushing. Scratch that, it’s no longer a push. It’s a breath stealing shove to the chest.
He takes angry strides to you and hovers your shorter stature. “I see the way you look. The hunger in your eyes. How your fangs sharpen,” he hisses, invading your personal bubble. “You deny it, acting so above it all but deep down inside you want it too just like me—blood. So for once how about we drop the little conceited act.”
Remmick looms so close, his and your noses nearly brush at the tips. Mouth sewn shut, his closeness eradicates any balance you have and you plop down on the couch’s cushion. All you can fathom is a wide eyed stare, watching his fire filled chest heave up and down on repeat.
Tears swell in your eyes as blood rushes to your face. Your lips quiver, tearing the invisible thread sealing them closed.
And when you do manage to speak you utter through a shattered voice, “I hate you. I hate this—living under the moon with you.”
The anger twisting his face falters, your words cutting deep in his heart and now it’s his turn to be wordless. He’s never heard you say such a thing, not even in the most sun scorching arguments.
“I fucking hate you!” You shove at his chest with enough force to bend steel.
Any average human would’ve gone crashing to the floor, maybe breaking a bone. Remmick on the other hand slightly becomes unbalanced on his feet, stumbling back. Eventually he grounds himself still in his tracks.
Off the couch, you're a sprinting blur to the shared bedroom. The cabin walls tremble as you slam the door, locking the knob.
“No, no. You get back here now, damn it! Tell me right now that you don’t mean that bullshit!” You hear Remmick roaring over stormy footsteps.
At the door, his fist wham, shaking the walls of the room you hide in. His broken yells continue to echo throughout the cabin. He almost sounds desperate, begging you to open the door. To say it again. In his face, direct eye contact.
He needs to know. What’s to know. If you truly mean it.
Unfortunately for him you don’t plan on unlocking the door. Crumpled in the corner, you’re wringing out a river of sobs. Not only did his words burn, but you know yours also did too. Guilt eats your heart alive and you refuse to face him. Not right now.
“Go away, Remmick! I don’t wanna talk to you right now!”
“Baby, please. Open the door. Let’s talk about it,” he rasps, forehead pressed against the door.
You sniffle between quiet sobs. “Go away.”
One last wham on the door jolts you upright, frame uncontrollably shaking. A low growl rumbles through him. A silent long pause. Then there’s a sigh from behind the door.
Loud and clearly you hear Remmick storm away before shaking the cabin whole, slamming the front door.
A shaky sigh slips past your lips, tears still flowing as everything replays itself in your brain, fresh and vividly clear.
An hour flies by and you sleep in bed. Remmick’s rich scent, fresh and calming, weighed your eyelids shut.
Another hour slips by and you rise from the short slumber. Drool, dry and flaky cakes on your chin. Faint hoots of an owl woke you. Plagued by boredom you wander from the bedroom in search of the book you read earlier.
Two more hours pass and still no sign of Remmick. Your loving husband would’ve been back, hugging you tightly in his warm embrace as he whispers heart melting apologies. You try to ignore the loud silence in his absence and continue losing yourself in the book.
A loud bang rings outside. The book in your hand crashes on the floor as a flinch drives through you. Looking around like a frantic mother in search of her lost child, you stalk towards the window in the bedroom. There’s nothing out there except for the darkness and trees dancing in the wind.
Another thundering bang rips through your ears but this time it comes from the cabin’s front door.
Remember it ain’t me knocking at the door. I never knock, ever. It’s someone else. If this happens while I’m out, hide until they leave.
If not, run. Run like the sun’s rising high to the sky and never look back. Don’t worry bout me cause I’ll find ya, darlin.
Your husband’s words echo in your brain and your heart hammers louder each passing second. In a flash on your feet, head whipping around in search of somewhere to hide.
Faint voices of men nearly drag you down to your knees. Within seconds your movements become less swift—more sloppier.
“Just kick it in. I’m sure it’s him living here anyways according to the locals,” a voice urges from behind the front door.
“Oh, no,” you mumble, tumbling into the bedroom.
The front door bolts open with a boom, hitting the wall. Ten men in a group spill into the small living room. Weapons, toxic and deadly as the sun decorate their bodies on holsters.
Stuffed under the bed, you hide, hands slapped over your lips trapping in heavy breaths. Skipping wildly, your heart hammers in your ears.
Before meeting Remmick you never ran into vampire hunters, only hearing tall tales about them in speakeasies or from friends and family. You didn’t believe them to be real because you were human and a hunter tracking down a vile blood sucking monster didn’t have anything to do with you—a human. Hell, you didn’t even believe in vampires' existence until it was too late and your neck was chomped to a bloody mess on a late midnight in a dark forest trail.
Echoing off the walls, casual banter and footfalls loom closer and closer each passing second. Their voices are guttural and gravelly as they speak nauseating threats of what they’re going to do to Remmick.
Abruptly, the bedroom door whines open. It sends you crumpling deeper where you hide, breath hitched in your throat.
Clacking on the floor are your belongings as one of the men search the room. Under his breath he rambles on, irritated. Once he finishes, you hear him huffing a sigh and strolling elsewhere into the hallway.
Relief doesn’t dare wash over your trembling body yet because you can still hear them loud and clear inside the cabin.
“Fuck, I thought you said the fucker would be here cause I ain’t seeing him nowhere in this shithole.”
Another man sighs, “he’s gotta be here. Maybe he’s out…looking for the next victim is my best bet.”
Their shoes shuffle around scattered across the cabin any and everywhere. Endless wonders of when they’ll leave cloud your brain and in the mixture of it for a brief moment you begin regretting not going with Remmick
“Check in that room one more time boys. Y’all know how Jimmy can’t look to save his soul,” the ringleader of the hunters chuckles.”
His men as if on command laugh as well, except for one—the man who searched the room. He grumbles, cursing them all under his breath.
They flood inside the bedroom and turn the room upside down in a heartbeat. It’s like a tornado raged through the room, leaving yours and Remmick’s items unorganized all over the floor. Only one thing remains intact—the bed.
“Aye, Jim, check under the bed. I got a feeling we might find someone under it.”
Your hand catches the gasp rushing past your lips. Brain dizzy and drunk, you freeze as your heart slams against your ribcage. A pair of boots, beaten and huge, invade your line of vision.
You see what you prayed to not see all while these men raided your home—a pair of eyes staring right back at you. His eyes are blacker than the bottom of the great seas.
“Aww, look at what we got here.”
He stretches out a long arm for you, but your body recoils away. The man only smiles, teeth crooked and rotten, delighted with what he’s found.
“Jimmy, what you find?” The leader exclaims.
Unable to slide back any more, your arm is yanked, nearly pulling a bone out of its socket from the fierce force. The man holds you up in the air, flaunting you like fresh meat before a pack of hungry dogs.
Some of them whistle at the sight of you while others gazes linger with an appetite for something foul and grotesque.
The leader of the bunch is a tall man with a menacing face. He steps close, leaving no room for you to breathe properly. His fingers tilts your face to meet his grim eyes.
“Hey there, little mouse. Me and my boys got some questions we wanna ask you if you don’t mind,” he says, voice calm as waves on a beach as he slips out a silver blade from his many pockets.
Your heart sinks at the sight. Remmick floods your brain and only him. You wish he was here now more than ever.
Out in town laced with cloudy fog in every corner and street, Remmick barely brews up an appetite after leaving the cabin. Even the sweetest blood he drank from didn’t fulfill his stomach. Not with you plaguing his mind all night.
Tonight blood came easy, falling right into his lap and its taste was mouth watering. On a night like this he’d skip back to you with joy and embrace you in his arms, twirling round and round. He doesn’t do any of that though.
Instead, Remmick doesn’t even return home after having his meal of warm blood. He remains in town, hiding in the shadows and boredly watches the nightlife. Desperately he tries clawing you from his brain but it doesn’t work. You remain a restless spirit trapped inside his mind.
“Shit,” he hisses, gazing up at the moon.
He’s late. He should return home but he doesn’t. Stubborn as an ox, he strolls dragging each foot to a juke joint nearby in need of a fresh drink. Not the red kind either. The kind that makes you trip over your own feet and forget all your sorrows.
Easily, he slips past inside with his charming smile. At the bar he orders a drink and receives it without a beat wasted. Sipping on the bitter liquid, he listens to a duo of men beside him.
“Yeah, I heard Jim and the boys headed for the woods tonight in pursuit of a vampire.”
Remmick stiffens, his blood running icy cold. He sits the drinking glass down, brows knitted.
One of the men laughs before gulping down the last bit of his drink. “About ten of em. Say they gonna torture the poor fella. They got all sorts of weapons. Man I hate to be the damn bastard, he in for a rude awakening.”
Remmick jolts off the stool and bolts out the establishment doors, slipping through several people. He’s a flash in the woods, dodging every tree, bush, and branch. The risk of wasting time wasn’t blessed upon him tonight.
“Please be alright,” he whispers like a broken record as his heart skips wildly.
Finally at the cabin, he pauses before the door, chest bouncing up and down. Vivid images of you flash before his eyes. In some you’re in one piece, peacefully fast asleep in bed. In others you’re tied up, mouth gagged, crying as shadowy figures hurt you.
The unknown of what lurks inside the cabin haunts him, but its whispers thread around his legs and pull him through the door. Remmick’s met with loud silence.
He calls out your name. No response. Sweat gathers on his temples as he walks deeper inside. Again, he calls for you and it’s the same as before. In a hot flash he’s inside the bedroom. At the disastrous mess his eyes grow wide, stomach sinking lower than it did at the bar.
He utters your name and drops to his knees. Your book, mixed among the mess, lies before him. It calls his gaze upon it and Remmick picks it up. Just as misery drowns him in a pit of endless pain he notices something staining your book.
Blood. It’s fresh, still a vibrant, shiny red.
Again, like a ghost in the night, images of you crystal clear invade his brain, eyes, ears. It’s everywhere in him. Screams. Begging. Cries. Your teary stained face. He’s tortured and taunted by it until he falls off the edge of sanity.
Cabin hollow, the front door is wide open. It sways back and forward as a gentle breeze blows.
“Well, lads, we may have not found the biggest treasure of them all but we found a hidden gem,” the ringleader, you come to learn known as Mike, cheers.
His men hoot and holler gathered around logs engulfed in wild flames. They sit on wooden stoops and giant boulders collected from nearby. From flasks they drink and eat meat cooked on the dancing flames.
In Mike’s lap, you sit. A collar tightly hugs your neck and silver chains attached to it stings and scorches your skin, tearing small whimpers from your chest.
“She’s definitely a gem,” one of them chirps, licking his chapped lips.
“See, I ain’t so bad at finding things after all,” Jimmy states. “I found you a little pet to ease the painful nights away when that nagging wife of yours stirs chaos.”
The men chuckle, poking fun at Mike. He yanks the chains, forcing you uncomfortably close to his chest.
“That’s right boys, I’ve got myself a little toy to take my frustrations out on when Betty throws hissy fits.”
His words birth an acidcoats your tongue along with bile from your throat.
A toy. These filthy pigs for humans don’t even recognize you as a woman let alone a human being. You’re just an object to play with until they’ll eventually toss you aside. The very thought, no, fact pulls bile up your throat.
You want to scream. Stab your claws deep in Mike’s eyeballs, drawing out streams of blood. You don’t. You can’t. Fear won’t allow such a privilege— you being brave and daring.
With a silver dagger, he already sliced a line in your cheek that’s still slowly regenerating. It hurt like hell as he etched it in your soft flesh.
Before these men even came to the cabin you wondered of Remmick’s whereabouts since he hadn’t come home yet. After the harsh word that cut deeply in his chest, you questioned if he would come back.
How could you utter such a thing to him? All he’s ever done is protect you and show love that feels like millions of soft, warm kisses from the sun.
Now he’s gone and so are you. Far away in the winds.
Some small part of you thinks you deserve this hell for the heart wrenching words you stabbed him with.
“Hey,” Mike's voice says, ripping you from your lake of thoughts. “I know you hear me talking to you, girly.”
“Look at that. She’s already giving him attitude,” a man beside Jimmy teases.
Jimmy snickers, lips curving. His unpleasant facial features illuminated by the fire’s glowing light. “You best put that gal in her place before she gets ahead of herself, Mike.”
Mike's face, oily and grimy, flushes bright red. Veins protrude in his skin and his grip tightens on the chains as he jerks them.
Neck sore from his constant yanking, you pull away in protest.
“Oh, now that’s what I’m talking about. She’s got some spice to her!” One of the men chirps wildly in his spot.
The rest of Mike’s men join in the fun, laughing and teasing him about your sudden disobedience. Their mockery adds fuel to his boiling anger. He springs to life on his feet, knocking you to the ground in the process. You land with a soft thud on the patchy grass.
“Strip ‘fore I put one of these silver bullets through that stony skull of yours. I’ll teach you a lesson about respect.”
A nearby stream, the rocky trail stretching through the trees, outside around the cabin, he searches in a chaotic frenzy for you. Deadly fangs on display, claws ready for slicing skin to shreds, eyes glowing a wicked red, Remmick’s storms through the woods.
As he continues sniffing and looking around for you in every crevice, he spots several marks on the ground. Human and horse hooves. He’s a zooming bolt, dashing as he follows the endless trail of footfalls engraved in the damp patchy mud.
Reaching above the tall trees are clouds of white smoke, wispy in long streams touching the night sky. A hint. He’s no longer on his feet racing through trees. Remmick is like a fearless bird defying gravity, soaring in the air.
As he closes in to where the smoke rises, he lands on the ground lightly and continues sprinting. All his mind fathoms is you, praying to a god that no longer hears his cries and one he always defied and detested. Though the man high above in the clouds words of prayer always brought him comfort in rough times like this one.
Not too far away, he sees the men—vampire hunters. Usually he’d be quick on his heels, dashing in the opposite direction in fear of dying a miserable and painful death. Yet, now he finds himself running right into the jaws of the lions.
Springing high in the air, Remmick lands on a tree branch, light on his feet, careful not to draw their gazes his way. His eyes flicker around are until he finds you. Lusting bloodshed, he almost launches off the branch as his eyes take in the sight of you.
You’re crying, wearing only underwear and a collar with a chain for a leash as if you’re some sort of mouth foaming beast that needs taming.
“Them fucking bastards,” his snarls out a silent whisper.
He wants to tear and rip his claws through them all, not leaving any of them left breathing. But he inhales in and out, cooling the overwhelming anger he feels. He has to be smart or it’ll be his and your grave.
That’s the case and plan until the man holding the chains touches you with his filthy hands. You cry, squirming and begging him to stop. Then when you scream Remmick’s name he’s no longer on the branch.
Blood splatters everywhere. It sprinkles on the dancing flames. The fire wavers until more blood sprays out gushing, killing the flames. With the red orangish light gone all is left is the moonlight, a mere dim glow.
Mike, gurgling on blood, drops to the ground with a loud thud. His men scream his name, and scatter in circles for their gear. Unlike them, human and blind to the dark, Remmick sees clearly as if the sun was shining.
Like a lightning bolt, he blurs after each man. His talon-like claws, split flesh, opening up their throats. In the silent night all you can hear is splattering of liquid as you cower, sobbing too horrified to open your eyes.
Remmick doesn’t even gift them the opportunity to cry and beg for mercy, slaying them all in a heartbeat.
Nine men in pools of their own blood, one more to go. The man, Jimmy, crabwalks on his ass. Furious crimson glowing eyes are the last thing he sees before he’s choking on his own blood. His body rattles before going limp as thestones in the grass.
Remmick, covered in blood from head to toe, chest deflates a long heavy sigh. Relief washes over him as the smell of iron fills his senses. In the corner of his eyes he sees you crumpled on the ground. You’re a shaky mess.
“Darlin, it’s okay I’m here now. I’m here.”
He’s quick at your side, kneeling and wrapping you in his arms—bridal style.
“Remmick?” Your eyelids flutter open through tears.
“Yeah, it’s me, darlin. I’ve got you now. Let’s get you home and clean.”
You lean into his warm embrace, sniffling. A kiss of his soft lips atop your forehead calms your rapid pulse.
Back home in the messy cabin, Remmick ignores it all and carries you to the bathroom. He whispers to you a myriad of apologies, voice broken to pieces.
“I’m sorry I should’ve been home when it happened. You were probably so scared, I’m so sorry, baby.”
“I’m sorry too. I don’t hate you at all, Rem. I love you.”
He runs a warm bath for you and helps you discard your underwear. He places you in the water and washes you while peckering kisses on your face.
“I‘ll never let you out of my sight again. I promise.”
Part 2?????? I just wanted to write this cause like why not LMAO
