Pairing: Alex Walter × reader; best friend!Cole × reader (platonic)
Word count: 3.5k or 3578 words
Warnings: fluff, smut, slight voyeurism, dryhumping, masterbation (m! receiving), unprotected p in v, doggy style, loss of virginity (his), manhandling, praise kink, creampie, Alex being a nerd, Alex is a pathetic loser and reader is into it, no beta we die like Jackie’s family
Alex knew you. He knew the confident, popular, dethroned-Erin-as-head-of-the-cheer-squad you who never backed down from a challenge. He also knew the other side of you. Before the glamour. Before the student body began collectively worshipping you like some sort of hive mind.
When he first met you, you were just the girl next door. The girl who loved books, and barbies, and dungeons and dragons. The girl who loved her best friend since third grade, and by extension, the nerdy younger brother that always tagged along during your hangouts.
You never did have anything in common with Cole, yet you seemed to enjoy his company very much. Alex used to dream about what it would be like. To know someone that deeply, and have them know you just as well. To have someone that’s always in his corner, always in his room, and always wearing his hoodies.
Alex would let you steal all of his clothes happily even if it meant he’d freeze to death. But alas, like all good things in his short, miserable life, you weren’t immune to the Cole effect.
That’s what he’ll go with anyway. Because the thought that his brother had a friend as genuine as you, just being his real self, made Alex feel things he’d much prefer to bury six feet under.
He knocked on the door once. No answer. Weird. Usually, you’d answer the door to his brother’s room like it was your own. Alex tried the doorknob, and pushed it open with the enthusiasm of someone who couldn’t wait to tell you all about this new game he had discovered with Kiley.
Big mistake. Huge. You’d love that he just unironically referenced one of the gazillion romcoms you had made him watch over the years. But the thought left as soon as it came. Along with any sense of shame or decency within Alex as he continued to stare at you.
You were bent over, trying to retrieve one of Cole’s old T-shirts from the dresser, wearing nothing but blue lace underwear that made you look like something out of Alex’s fantastical imagination. You had on the headphones Cole had gifted you on your sweet sixteen, whispering the lyrics to ‘dancing queen’ under your breath.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Abort mission. Leave. Now. That’s what he knew he had to do. What he should have done. But his stupid brain wouldn’t take the hint and send signals to move his damn legs. Alex wanted to turn around, or to make his presence known. Something.
All he did was stand there, eyes slightly widened, mouth agape. Like some sort of pervert. Thank God you hadn’t seen him as you found what you were searching for and pulled the garment over your head.
Alex turned around and made a run for it. And slammed into the door. Wait, what? The door was open- oh no. He looked up, and came face to face with his older brother. He tried to slip past him, but was effectively blocked.
Oh, no, no, no. This could not be happening. This was it. You would know what he did. And then you’d never want to see his face again. He’d die, sad and alone, clutching dearly to the image of your heavenly behind even as his mind frayed with the brush of time.
Cole cleared his throat. You finally noticed the commotion not even five feet away from where you stood. Alex forgot to consider the very likely possibility that you and his brother might decide to murder him right then and there.
You’d feed him to your family’s pigs before he had the chance to explain. You’d kill him even if he did get that opportunity. Because how could he explain to anyone that he was in love with his brother’s best friend and not just a creep preying on vulnerable teenage girls.
Even when said teenage girl knew more than four (4) ways to dispose of a human body curtosy of that murder mystery series you were so obsessed with. Only murders in the basement? Something like that. Probably.
He was so dead. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable verbal (or not) slap coming his way. The shame and guilt was overwhelming. Not to mention he would have to pay an additional price for being such a weirdo. Any second now.
Alex opened his eyes. Your face was two inches away. He suddenly jerked backwards, losing his balance. You grabbed on to him, but it was of no use. Now, the two of you were crashing to the ground.
Reaching out your hands did nothing to break your fall. But Alex’s face sure did. In your hurry to grab him, you held into his collar. That, and your prior proximity resulted in your bodies being smushed against each other as you lay on the floor.
You could feel everything. Alex sure downplayed his strength, because he always said he wasn’t built like a bronc rider. Well, the imprint of each one of his muscles hidden under that red hoodie begged to differ.
So did the outline of something else poking your plush thigh through the denim. You groaned, moving to sit up, and grabbed your headphones from where they’d landed beside Alex’s head. As you used Cole’s outstretched hand as support, your eyes locked onto your best friend’s younger brother.
“Um, Y/n, hi. I’m so sorry. Whatididwasdisgustingitwon’thappenagain,” he mumbled rapidly.
“Huh? What was that?” you inclined your head towards him.
Oh. So you liked to play with your food before eating it. Noted.
“I’m sorry.” He breathed.
“Don’t be, darlin’. It was my fault. I should have held onto your arm or something,” you reassured him.
“You’re kidding, right?” Cole piped up.
He was leaning against the wall beside his door again, where he had positioned himself after sidestepping when Alex lost his balance.
“No? Why would I joke about this? He could have gotten hurt,” you furrowed your brows.
Your hands roamed all over Alex, checking for any injury. He was in heaven. Cole just scoffed, and entered his room. He closed the door behind him, locking it.
“You’re not sleeping in there?” Alex asked you.
“Apparently. Guess, I’ll just head home then.” You stepped back, satisfied with your examination of Alex’s non-existent injuries.
He immediately missed your warmth. The whine that left his throat was almost embarrassing. Or, it would be. If it were literally anyone else witnessing this.
But it was you. And you were kind, and sweet, and had rubbed his back when he puked out of nervousness before his first rodeo. So he wasn’t so much embarrassed as he was flustered.
“Do you wanna sleep with me?” he blurted.
Your face flushed, “Huh?”
“No, no. Ugh, what I meant to say was, do you want to sleep in my room tonight? You know, since it’s late and all. Besides, it’s not like we haven’t done that before...” he trailed off.
He was right. There had been countless occasions where you would crash in his bed, arms wrapped around each other. When you read him bedtime stories as children, when you tutored him in a subject he totally knew but didn’t mind the extra time he got to spend with you, or when Cole had a girl over and you were forced to retreat from what was essentially your room in everything but name.
“I’d like that, yeah.” You smiled.
“Uh, great then!” He answered with a sheepish one of his own.
This was torture. Alex was suffering. Why? Because the universe had decided to test his patience tonight. First, he saw you practically naked. Then, he had to keep a straight face when you fell to the ground, chests pressed together. And now? He was being forced to stay absolutely still as you shifted on his bed, trying to find a comfortable position.
The bed was not made for two. Earlier, you used to adjust somehow. But the both of you had grown. And he definitely took up much more space than his prepubescent self. It was hard not to just wrap around you like he used to.
Normally, he would. But after everything that had already happened tonight, he did not want to try his luck. It took a lot for him to control his thoughts from running wild. And it most definitely didn’t help that his boner still wouldn’t go away.
He had tried thinking of literally every single unsexy thing he could think of. Cole, Cole’s attitude, Cole getting to have you in his room like this almost every night while Alex clung to the crumbs he was lucky enough to recieve once every couple months.
Cole didn’t know how good he had it. Alex’s eyes stayed glued to the back of your head. He couldn’t risk looking down and glimpsing where your shirt was riding up, exposing the blue fabric of your underwear he had gotten the pleasure of seeing you in.
He wouldn’t think about just how sheer the lace was. And he certainly wouldn’t let his hands grab your hips, maneuvering you into a position where his dick rested between your thighs. From there, he definitely would not get himself off using the feel of your silky skin and the freedom of movement your clothing, or lackthereof, provided.
Nope. Such thoughts would never cross his mind. Except he already was. Holding onto you, that is. He hadn’t realised the scenario in his head had caused his body to unconsciously envelop yours. Uh-oh.
Damn it. He needed to get himself together. He tried to retract his hands, but before he could do so, yours landed on top of each of his. Your fingers intertwined with his on your waist as you turned your head the slightest bit.
The moon shone through his window, illuminating you in its ethereal light. You looked like an angel on Earth. God, you were the most beautiful person he had ever met. Inside and out. Perhaps that is why when your gaze dropped to his lips, he leaned in without thinking.
Now, Alex had kissed girls before. He had had girlfriends. Granted, they both had cheated on him with his older brother but still. He had never felt like this before. So wanted. So loved.
Kissing you was like the first day of spring after a particularly harsh winter. You were a breath of fresh air after being underwater so long he hadn’t even realised he was drowning. Feeling your lips glide against his stole the pain of his past and turned it into pure, burning passion.
“Y/n, I..” he trailed off when you broke away abruptly and pulled the shirt over your head.
Alex drew in a sharp breath. Of all the times in his life Alex Walter had been grateful for you not wearing a bra, this one has got to be his favourite. Because now he gets to touch. Or does he? He’s getting ahead of himself, isn’t he?
“Can I?” his warm hands landed just below your ribcage.
You nodded. Your hands guided his upwards and he gave your breasts a firm squeeze. The pads of his thumbs swiped across your hardened nipples, and you let out a soft moan.
“Alex..” you breathed as he explored your chest with his mouth.
You moved to straddle him, careful not to disturb his fervent endeavours. He pulled back, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. His eyes moved to Cole’s shirt on his floor, then to you pretty much naked on top of him.
“I love my life,” he sighed into your neck, peppering kisses there till he reached your lips once more.
“Never thought that could come from you,” you mused.
“Yeah well, I never thought I could have you and here we are.” He smirked.
“You’ve always had me,” you looked into his eyes.
“God, I’m stupid.” He realised.
You just laughed. Yeah, he had to be at least a little stupid to not realise how far gone you were for him. Better late than never, you supposed. You kissed him deeply, tongues mingling as you licked into his mouth.
Alex trailed his fingers down your sides, hooking into your underwear. He tugged on them, and you shifted to let him help you out of the last piece of fabric covering you. He took a second to admire you.
“I swear, if I’d known that this was a possibility, my love life would’ve been a lot less fucked up.” He confessed.
“Less fucked up than hooking up with your brother’s best friend?” you raised an eyebrow, accentuating the question with a harsh grind.
“Fuck. Yeah, I mean, considering,” he shrugged.
“Fair enough.” you held onto his broad shoulders, setting a slow pace.
Alex removed his hoodie and undershirt in one go, throwing them across the room. His hands guided your hips, bringing you down onto him over and over.
The fabric rubbed deliciously against your bare pussy, sending a tingling sensation straight to your core. You reached a hand down to unbutton his jeans. He was a sight to behold.
He looked about ready to beg for you to start moving again. You loved that he got all desperate like this. He might be pathetic, but he was yours. And that’s exactly how you like him.
“C’mon, darling. Take these off for me, won’t you?” you tilted your head to the side.
“Mhm,” he nodded, frantically removing his pants along with his boxers.
Oh, wow. You should have seen this coming. He had grown a lot in the past year. Apparently, that applied to all parts of him. His length was flush against his abs. The soft pink tip weeped, leaking pre all over his abdomen.
Your hand wrapped around him, stroking languidly. The sounds he made were downright filthy. Your heart had hurt for him when the incident had occurred with Paige, and then twice with Jackie. If you had known you could prevent all that so simply, he might not have suffered so much.
“You’re mine, aren’t you? My darling.” You twisted your wrist as you continued moving it along the length of him.
“Mm, ‘m yours. Always have been,” he looked downright sinful.
“My pretty baby. Won’t let anyone hurt you again, promise.” you kissed the bridge of his nose.
You continued peppering kisses all over his face as your hand brought him closer to his orgasm. He covered his mouth to stifle the groan that escaped his throat.
“S-stop,” he said, bringing his hand to yours.
“What happened? You okay, baby? We don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna,” you caressed his face.
“No, it’s just. Well.. if you keep going I might.. finish,” he looked away, shy all of a sudden.
“That’s the goal, isn’t it?” you teased.
“But, I want to feel you when I do.” His voice gained confidence as the sentence came to an end.
“Awh, you’re too sweet, you know that?” you jutted out your bottom lip.
“So you keep saying.” He smiled at you.
“Because it’s true. Now, show me what you’ve got cowboy.” you grinned, leaning back onto your elbows.
Alex flipped you with surpising strength, muscled arms bulging as the smell of his cologne mixed with sweat and arousal filled your nose. He lined himself up with your entrance, barely managing to find it as he tried to seem like he knew what he was doing.
He very obviously did not. Even if you weren’t aware of exactly how much experience he had, it was visible in the way he fumbled around for a few seconds.
You let him figure it out. It was sweet how he was trying so hard, caring about your pleasure as well. The other guys you had been with were only ever intrested in getting what they wanted from you. And disappearing once they did.
Alex wasn’t like that at all. He was kind, and selfless. You would give him the world, and shield him from harm forever if you could. Though that wasn’t possible, what you could do was be there for him. No matter what.
You cried as he pushed inside, the pain turning into pleasure almost immediately. He froze, afraid of hurting you even just a little bit. You pushed back onto him, prompting him to grab your hips.
His thrusts were a bit sloppy at first, but then the rhythm solidified into a steady one. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room.
You shoved your face into a pillow and he increased his pace. His hips slammed into you feverishly. He brought one hand around to toy with your clit. You saw stars.
You wanted to scream. But that would wake everyone up, and then you’d be banned from sleeping over at the Walters’ ever again. So you bit your hand, Alex’s harsh thrusts driving you further into the mattress.
“Y/n, I’m close,” he moaned.
“Me too- You feel so good. Such a good boy,” your praise pushed him over the edge.
He spilled into you with a grunt, his grip on you tightening. But he didn’t pull out. Instead, he started moving once again. He fucked his cum into you, determined to make you finish.
The extra lubrication made it easier for him to slide in and out. He was rougher this time. He knew you wouldn’t break, and he was done being careful. Alex was ready to give you what you needed.
“Yes!” you exclaimed, eyes rolling back.
He drew fast circles onto your clit, urging your body to give what he demanded. The tip of his dick kissed your cervix, and the sensation was too much. You crumbled around him, as he kept going.
Feeling your walls squeeze him as your muscles contracted, caused a second orgasm to be ripped from him. He filled you for the second time that night. This was an entirely different outcome as compared to how either of you expected this to go when you first agreed to sleep in his room.
You collapsed onto the bed, and he laid on top of you. You felt him softening inside, refusing to pull away even now. His hot breath kissed your cheek, the two of you laying there without the strength to move.
His arms wrapped around you, shielding you from the slight chill the open window let in. Alex eventually covered you both with a blanket and you fell asleep with your head on his chest.
A knock on the door shook Alex awake. He contemplated ignoring it. You were so warm, so soft against him. He couldn’t believe he got to wake up next to you like this. That last night wasn’t just another dream that would fade away with the morning light.
Knuckles rapped on wood again, more urgent this time. Ugh. Alex pulled away from your embrace, careful not to jostle you. He spotted his jeans on the ground and quickly put them on.
“Alex, I know she’s in there! Open up, I need to talk to her.” Cole’s voice rang from the other side.
Alex opened the door abruptly and spoke in a harsh whisper, “Shh, you’re gonna wake her!”
“So?” Cole peeked into the room, taking in the scene.
He glanced at his brother’s mussed hair, to your body underneath the thin blanket which clung to your skin in a way that didn’t leave much to the imagination. There were clothes strewn all over the bedroom floor, including Cole’s shirt and your lace underwear.
Cole sucked in a sharp breath, “what did you do to her?”
“What did I do to- what are you talking about?” Alex’s face scrunched up in confusion.
“Clearly, you did something. Why else would she be naked in your bed? So tell me, did you blackmail her? Win a bet?” Cole questioned.
“He didn’t do anything like that,” you groaned from the bed, awake from all the commotion.
“So you slept with him willingly? Did you know it was him beforehand, or..” he speculated.
“Oh my god. Yes, I had sex with Alex fully knowing it was him. Because he’s hot. Because I wanted to. Because I love-” you shut your mouth.
“You love me?” Alex gaped.
“You love him? Geez, I knew you had a thing for nerds but I didn’t expect you to pick Alex of all people.” Cole rolled his eyes.
“Shut up, you asshole.” You threw a pillow in his face.
“I regret teaching you how to throw,” he tossed it back.
“Okay, if you’re done, can you leave now?” Alex asked his brother.
“Fine, fine. I’m going,” he raised his hands, “guess you meant it when you asked her to sleep with you, huh?”
Alex shut the door in his face. Turning around, he saw you struggling to contain your laughter.
“Seriously?” he shook his head, laughing quietly.
“I mean, he’s not wrong,” you snickered.
“I hate you.” He sighed.
“Aw, really?” you fake-pouted.
“No- uhm, I didn’t mean that! I- I'm. I love you,” he walked closer, his eyes widening.
“I was kidding, but I love you too.” you chuckled, planting a kiss on his lips.
Alex melted into you. His body pressed yours into the bed, the familiar weight making you relax. Yeah, Alex did know you. But finding out the things he didn’t was a process he wasn’t opposed to enjoying.
A/n: omg this was long. I did not expect to stretch it this much but I just love him. And I needed Cole’s reaction since that’s what the ask was mainly about lmao,, hope this wasn’t ooc or anything since i’ve only just started watching this show. Can’t believe I got into this fandom because of a gif I saw of Alex in an instagram comment section🫣💞
Thank you for the amazing prompt @rottenstyx! If you like this, you might want to check out my other works here<3
When the dust clears at Hogwarts, Harry searchers for the one person who can relate to him, now that all close to his parents were dead. She was the last remanence of the family he could have had, if life had treated them well. Now they were two lost souls, carrying the weight of reality on their shoulders. But while Harry would one day greet death as an old friend, she was bound to the Earth forever.
-----------
Harry found his Godmother in the Astronomy Tower. Or what was left of it really. Seated on the edge with feet hanging off, the cool breeze blowing through her hair. As he got closer, he saw the blank look in her eye, staring out to the distance at the river and trees. Smoke from the fires sizzling out until disappearing forever.
He announced himself as he approached, although Harry knew she was aware of his presence. “Thought I might find you here.” Coming beside her, Harry crouched and swung his legs off the ledge to sit next to her.
“This used to be my favorite spot in the castle,” She replied without looking at him, but Harry heard the small smile in her voice. The tone one has when recalling happy memories. “I loved coming up here after hours to admire the stars. It was the one place I found solace in, and what I missed most after….”
Harry understood what she referred to, tilting his head down. The question left his lips without thinking, “Did you ever hate them? Dumbledore, Sirius….Remus. At any point?” He glanced up with curious eyes, “For what happened that night.” The boy received a sigh, emanating the exhaustion she felt after the long, devastating battle. It was laced with grief and sorrow. Making Harry regret asking. He went to apologize but she cut him off.
“To say I didn’t want to would be a lie,” the confession hung in the air, a tightening in her chest despite the weightlifting off her shoulders. “Especially in the beginning, Harry. It’s why many years passed before I returned home. I was enraged.” Turning to him, she pressed her lips together, “I feared what I’d do, and it didn’t help that my emotions were not only all over the place, but heightened and made me uncontrollable.”
A shiver migrated down her spine, the memory of her early years after the transformation resurfacing. Along with the fear, guilt, and despair. Sniffing, she panned back to the river, “But you must know, I do not-- did not, ” she corrected with a crack, “hate Remus. Nor did I harbor any blame for what he did. He wasn’t in his right mind, as you’ve witnessed when there’s a full moon.”
Harry shuddered, thinking back to his third year. The night of many revelations. Sirius’ innocence, Peter’s betrayal, Remus’s lycanthropy…and Y/n’s vampirism.
“But Sirius and Dumbledore…..”
He heard her sharp intake of breath, her voice growing lower, “It pains me to admit it, Harry, but…..I wanted to kill them. ” Of course that feeling disappeared a long time ago. After a long journey of reflection, acceptance, and resilience. Y/n forgiving Sirius for his actions that led to her nearly dying at the hands of Remus when she saved Snape from falling into Sirius’ trap. Their reunion in 1993 was a bittersweet moment. Filled with apologies and hope for the future.
As for Dumbledore, part of her--especially now after everything that’s happened, after everything she’s lost, deep down Y/n wishes he had let her succumb to the injuries.
“What do we do, Albus!” Madam Pomprey shouted, on the verge of hyperventilating as she attempted to aid the girl in front of her. Blood poured from multiple parts of her body as she laid on the bed. Withering, shivering, turning paler by the second.
James and Sirius stood frozen in the corner, covered in Y/n’s blood from hauling her to the infirmary, watching the scene unfold with horror. Snape, laying in his own bed, mirrored their expressions as Professor McGonnagal tried to block his view. The older woman had a hand covering her mouth, “God be with us.”
Y/n groaned, face becoming drowsy as her body desired sleep. Madam Pomprey’s dress painted deep red, pleading to the headmaster with her eyes. “This is beyond my reach, headmaster. We must take her to St. Mungos.”
Albus refused, “She’s in no condition to apparate, nor travel by Floo. She’ll die before we’d set foot inside.” He thought deeply, glancing between the girl and his colleagues with an unreadable expression. Then, as though fighting the thoughts in his head, Albus sighed in defeat. “There’s only one way to save the girl.” As he reached into his pocket, retrieving the vial he’d grabbed on his way out of his office in case of the worst possible outcome, Albus motioned for Filch. “Send an owl to the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Tell them they must send a representative to Hogwarts before the sun rises--it is a matter of the highest urgency.”
With a nod, Filch makes haste out of the infirmary towards the owlery. Leaving the remaining members of the group confused and worried. Minerva approaches the man, “The Department of Magical Creatures? What in Heaven's name are you thinking, Dumbledore? Remus didn’t bite Y/n--.” She then notices the vial in his hand, face dropping, “What is that?”
Albus briefly glances at the boys before focusing back on Y/n. Preparing himself for the negative reaction he was sure to receive. “ Vampire venom .” Air catches in all their throats, Sirius looking like he wants to throw up. The women gasp, Minerva absolutely appalled.
“Are you suggesting turning the girl into a vampire?!” her voice carries with an unfamiliar tone no one had ever seen from the professor. It was like she didn’t recognize the man in front of her. In disbelief he even possessed the venom when only three known vampires were alive and located away from England.
“It’s the only way to save the girl, Minerva.”
“That is illegal!” She shouted, making even Pompfrey flinch. James and Sirius felt their stomachs drop, hearts pounding against their chest. Seeing their head of House look genuinely frightened on top of their best friend dying ignited a fury of anxiety. Minerva stepped closer to Albus, voice stern, “If the Ministry doesn’t see fit to kill her they will surely send her away. They will remove her from Hogwarts--and her family! To be alone for all eternity,” Minerva’s heart already broke for the girl. Her favorite student and protegee. “If you do this you are sentencing her to a fate worse than death, Albus.”
He was quiet for a moment, as if debating what to do. But then brushed past the woman to move beside Y/n, uncorking the vial. “Likely so. But it is a risk worth taking.”
Minerva had to turn away, squeezing her eyes shut to not watch the man do the unthinkable. Meanwhile James steps forward, sweat still beading his forehead and yells, “You can’t do that, headmaster!” Albus’ hand pauses in the air before it could pour the liquid in Y/n’s mouth. Glancing up to find James’s horrified face. The young Potter had read a bit on vampires along with the stories his father told him.
The most notable details being vampires were hunted all over the globe to the point only three were known to be alive. Living off the grid and nomadic. And that not every human bit survives the transformation. More often they die before the venom reaches the heart depending on their state.
Knowing this, James feared for his friend. “What if she doesn’t survive the change?” Albus simply looked at him and replied, “And what if she does?” James said nothing, gulping as he took his place back beside Sirius.
They watched intently as the headmaster leaned over Y/n, gently parting her lips to open her mouth. “I am truly sorry about this, my dear.” Pausing, he glanced up to Pompfrey, “Clear the room. Anyone with open wounds and covered in blood will be her target.” With urgency, Pompfrey had the boys help her lift Snape out of the infirmary. Leaving only Minerva and Albus with Y/n, who was moments away from death.
“Are you sure about this, Albus?” Minerva asked one last time. Her eyes glossed over, saying a mental prayer for Y/n and for herself in the case the transformation works and Y/n attacks them in a bloodlust.
Though sure of himself, Albus felt his heart skip a beat the moment he let the venom fall into Y/n’s mouth, “Regardless if I am sure…there’s no turning back now.”
“I hated them,” she voiced with emotion, picturing the moment she awoke to a new reality, Harry noticing the way her eyes glossed over. “Dumbledore especially. Sirius I forgave because at the end of the day he was just being a stupid kid who didn’t think his actions had consequences. But Dumbledore…I never looked at him the same again. After all, he was the one who made the choice. Yes, he saved my life, and you’d think I’d be grateful,” she shook her head, turning back to Harry with sorrow filled eyes, “but how can I, when he sentenced me to walk the Earth for all eternity. Stuck with the same face I had at eighteen. Never to grow old while those around me live their lives until death comes to greet them.”
And now she was the last Marauder. All of her friends were dead, leaving her alone in the world.
Harry’s heart broke for his Godmother. With his parents, Sirius, Remus--and even Snape--gone, Y/n was the last person close to his parents living. The only family he had left--save for his muggle aunt and uncle who really could care less about whether he lived or died in the war.
It was just him and Y/n. The Boy Who Lived and the Lone Vampire.
Harry thought back to the first day of his third year. The day he and his friends met Lupin. Enjoying their dinner with their house in the Great Hall and how curious everyone became at the mention of another guest roaming the halls.
The Frog choir had just finished their song, the room erupting into applause as Dumbledore took to his podium.
“Welcome, welcome to another year at Hogwarts!” He announced with raised arms, “Now I’d like to say a few words before we all become too befuddled by our excellent feast. First, I’m pleased to welcome Professor R.J. Lupin, who’d kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” He motions to the man, who stands from his chair to smile and wave to the crowd. “Good luck, professor.”
Beside Lupin, Snape offers three simple claps while remaining stoic, while the other teachers beam at the newest edition to their faculty.
Dumbledore continues, “Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher for many years has decided to retire, in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs. Fortunately, I’m delighted to announce that his place will be taken by none other than our own Rubeus Hagrid.” As the half-giant stands, shaking the table as he does, the Gryffindor table erupted into cheers. Some whistling and shouting with glee.
“Finally,” The headmaster quiets the crowd, “on a more describing note. At the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will until further notice play host to the Dementors of Azkaban until such a time Sirius Black is captured.” Murmurs echo against the walls, students whispering in hushed voices. Faces painted with concern. Most notably Harry, who turns to his friends, also visibly worried.
“The Dementors will be stationed at every entrance to the grounds. Now, whilst I’ve been assured that their presence will not disrupt our day-to-day activities…,” he pauses slightly, eyes catching a figure walking past the entrance of the Great Hall. Dressed head-to-toe in black leather, heels barely clicking against the pavement with how light her footsteps were. Behind Dumbledore, the demeanor of the entire faculty shifted. Lupin and Snape tensing, while Minerva visibly paled.
The students, particularly the Golden Trio, took the change in behavior in regard to the Dementors & Sirius Black. Who could blame them really. Sirius Black was the talk of the town. Then there was the incident on the train with the Dementors. None were aware of the mysterious woman disappearing from sight as she passed the entrance to continue her journey throughout the castle.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, “A word of caution. Dementors are vicious creatures. They will not distinguish between the one they hunt and the one who gets in their way. Therefore, I must warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. It is not in the nature of a Dementor to be forgiving,” he pauses once more, lifting a finger, “but you know, happiness to be found even in the darkest of times.” His hand waves over a candle, distinguishing the flame, “One only remembers to turn on the light.” waving his hand again, the flame returns.
“With that being said, we’ve taken the necessary precaution to further ensure your safety in the castle.” Albus glances over his shoulder and meets Minerva’s eyes, then quickly does the same to Remus and Severus before returning his attention to the crowds. All three appear nervous. Deep down, Albus feels the same, but puts on a fake smile. “We are pleased to welcome another guest to Hogwarts.”
This piques the interest of everyone, and Harry straightens in his seat to look around the faculty for an unfamiliar face. However he falls up short, narrowing his brows in confusion.
“A fellow alum, who’s recently returned to England after many years abroad. Miss. Y/n L/n…” murmurs once again fill the room, mostly laced with wonder when they notice Dumbledore had not motioned toward a woman to provide face to a name, like he did Lupin. Harry frowns, looking at Hermione who just shrugs in response. “Has graciously accepted the position of taking over nightly surveillance from Mr. Filch. She’ll be roaming the halls after curfew and is expected to report any and all suspicious activity. Including any students out of bed. Therefore, I advise you all to not leave your dormitories after hours,” Dumbledore’s voice suddenly turns serious, “unless you wish to receive the proper punishment.”
Off to the side Harry overheard the twins, Fred and George, mumble something along the lines of, “That’s rubbish. How are we supposed to see if she’s fit if she’s only in the castle at night?” A statement which had all the girls in proximity roll their eyes and glare.
Ron leaned over to Harry, whispering loud enough for Hermione to hear, “that must suck. Imagine being the only one awake the entire night while everyone else is asleep. Quite a boring job if you ask me.”
Dumbledore ended the announcement, expression slightly troubled, “Miss. L/n will not be joining us for day-to-day activities, her duty is required at night.
While Ron and Hermoine fell into conversation as the feast began, Harry’s attention was rather occupied. Noticing something strange those around him failed to see.
The guilty faces of his teachers. Including Dumbledore and Snape.
It would be a few months into the term that Harry would first meet Y/n. Dumbledore wasn’t joking about her reporting all activity after hours. Several students had breached curfew. Some go to House parties, others to get a glimpse of Hogwarts mysterious security guard. Each was met with detention that week, and all were shocked having never spotted the woman lurking about the castle.
It was as if she were a ghost. But even the ghosts of Hogwarts were lively.
She was all but a mystery.
It was a bad idea. He knew better than to sneak out of the dorms after hours. But seeing the name Peter Pettigrew, a man known to be dead on the Marauder’s map, Harry had to investigate. So, with his wand leading the light in front of him, he made his way into the halls toward ‘Pettigrew’s’ location.
“Put that light out!”
“Sorry,” he apologized to the portrait, bringing the light in front of the map. There it showed Peter moving towards him. Harry paused, staying in his position while flicking his wand outward, but caught nothing in the darkness.
His heart pumped faster, breathing heavily as he felt the anxiety rise. What was he supposed to do? Peter Pettigrew was supposed to be dead. What would it mean if he was alive? What did it mean for Sirius Black?
The footsteps on the map closed in on Harry, until they were right in front of him. Then Harry turned, lifting his gaze expecting to see the culprit but scared himself as he met his own reflection in a mirror. Confused, Harry looked back at the map to find Peter’s name scurrying away, turning the corner moving away from Harry.
Then another name appeared.
Severus Snape approached the intersection of the opposite corridor, Harry mentally cursing as he waved his wand over the map, “Mischief managed. Nox,” the light went off, plunging him into darkness.
Unfortunately he was a second too late. Severus non-verbally casts ‘Lumos’ and flashes the light in his face. “Potter,” he snarled. “What are you doing wandering the corridors at night?”
“I was sleepwalking,” was the first thing that popped into Harry's mind. A horrible excuse he was sure Snape wouldn’t believe but tried anyway.
“Extraordinary like your father you are, Potter,” Snape muttered, tone laced with displeasure. “He, too, was exceedingly arrogant. Strutting about the castle.”
“My dad didn’t strut,” Harry sassed, “and nor do I.” Matching Snape’s hard stare, Harry never lost eye contact, “Now if you don’t mind, I would appreciate it if you lowered your wand.”
Almost like he was impressed with Harry’s attitude, Snape made a face, pointing his hand downward so his wand was directed at the floor. “Turn out your pockets.” When Harry didn’t move, Snape repeated the order sternly, “Turn out. Your pockets.”
Sighing through his nose, Harry removed the map from his hoodie, but did not offer it to Snape.
“What’s this?”
“A bare bit of parchment.”
“Really,” Snape didn’t believe him. “Open it.” A second paused before Harry complied. Then Snape placed his wand directly over the parchment. “Reveal your secrets.” They watched as lettering appeared, revealing the names Harry already became familiar with but instead of a map, there was a message. “Read it.”
“Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs,” Harry began, briefly flicking his eyes up , “and Missus. Hops, offer their compliments to Professor Snape and--.” Harry cut himself off, unsure to continue as his eyes scanned over the next sentence.
“Go on,” Snape drawled, and Harry lifted his head to look at him.
“And request that he keep his abnormally large nose out of other people’s business.”
Snape saw red, “Why you insolent little--.”
“Professor,” Remus announced himself, Snape turning so fast Harry thought he ought to have whiplash. Black hair pretty much covers his eyes.
“Well, well. Lupin . Out for a little walk….in the moonlight. Are we?”
Remus ignored Snape, offering only a smirk as he approached the two. “Harry. You alright?”
“That remains to be seen.” Snape, again, turned hastily and snatched the parchment out of Harry’s hands. Leaving the boy stunned. “I have just confiscated a rather curious artifact from Mr. Potter. Take a look, Lupin,” he extends his hand, allowing Remus to take it. “It’s supposed to be your area of expertise. Clearly, it is full of dark magic.”
Remus rolls his eyes at the accusation. “I seriously doubt it, Severus. It looks to me as though it’s merely a parchment designed to insult anyone who tries to read it.” His chuckle echoes. “I suspect it’s a Zonko product. Nevertheless,” he moves his hands away when Snape attempts to retrieve the parchment. “I should investigate any hidden qualities it may possess. “‘Tis after all, as you say, my area of expertise.”
As Remus goes to have Harry follow him out, they are interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching, causing all three of them to freeze. Severus points his wand out, light emitting into the darkness. They follow the light as he points it in the opposite direction, where they see nothing. Then, as they turn back to the original direction they were facing, the three men stagger back when they’re greeted with the sight of a woman standing directly in front of them.
She was dressed in all black. Beneath her long trench coat, she wore a turtleneck, gloves, and heeled boots. Striking facial features. So youthful; skin clear and smooth like fine China, a jawline and cheekbones that could cut through wood and eyes void of color. They were a bright gray, nearly white. And the moment she spoke Harry noticed how white her teeth were. Reflecting against the light from Snape’s wand.
“Gentlemen.” Her voice was feathery. Almost a whisper with a slight echo. Unlike anything Harry ever heard. She sounded far away despite being so close.
Harry saw the way the men reacted to the arrival of their guest. Relaxed, but somewhat uneasy. Remus’s head slightly tipped down, “ Y/n.” Harry’s face contorted to shock, despite assuming the moment he saw the woman that it was Y/n. But what made the boy think otherwise was how young she appeared. As though she were a student and not faculty. Physically looking like she belonged with the seventh years. “Apologies for disturbing you this evening.”
Y/n’s expression was stoic, “Your apology should be directed to those hanging on the wall trying to sleep. Something you all should be doing as well.” Eyes flickered over to Snape, then to Harry, causing the boy to tense under her gaze. It lingered on him for a moment before returning to Remus, “It is not safe to be out at this hour.”
“Agreed,” Snape drawled, glaring at Lupin slightly. “We were all just leaving. Isn’t that right, Lupin?”
“Yes,” the DADA professor cleared his throat. “That’s right. I was actually going to request Harry’s company back to my office to answer a few questions regarding this item he came into possession of,” he waved the map in his hands. Casting a knowing look to Y/n, who merely raised a brow at the parchment. Then her lips curled up while lifting her hand.
“Might I?”
At first he was hesitant, but then Remus slowly lowered the parchment into her palm, her delicate fingers taking grasp before analyzing the piece up close. “Well, well,” she hummed, a glint in her eyes. “What a peculiar thing. With a sense of humor.” She ignored the annoyed reaction from Snape, making Harry hold back a snicker.
“Yes,” Remus murmurs with a small smile, but it’s filled with emotion as he looks down at her. When she met his eyes, the man straightened, clearing his throat. “Again, our apologies for the disturbance.”
Y/n hands the map back, nodding sharply, “Quite alright. At least it was you all responsible for the noise.” She smirks, “I’d hate to report the Weasley twins again for the third time this week.” Remus chuckles and Harry smiles while Snape just rolls his eyes.
“Been having your hands full, I take it?”
A scoff escapes her, “Like you wouldn’t believe. These students are more rebellious than I imagined. Though I have to give it to them. They’ve become rather creative in their ways of sneaking out after curfew.”
Remus tilts his head, “More so than how we were,” he whispers so Harry doesn’t catch it, but knowing she would. Her nod confirms so, and Remus shakes his head with a chuckle. “Well I can only assume Filch is pleased to have the nights off now.”
“Oh, he makes it well known when we trade off at dusk.” They share another laugh, but she cuts it off when she spots Harry watching them with curious eyes. “I’ll leave you gentlemen to it then.” Her eyes traveled to Harry, making his breath catch as they lingered on him. Pinning him to his spot as he caught the way they softened. “It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Harry Potter.”
The boy stuttered out a response, “It--it’s nice to meet you too, Miss. L/n.”
“Please, call me Y/n.” She approaches him, stopping short and before anyone could react, she was lifting a gloved hand to his face. Gently brushing a finger over his cheek, causing Harry’s heart to skip a beat. Even with gloves on, her touch was chilling.
Behind her Harry saw the professors stiffen, meekly sharing a glance. Then Y/n’s voice echoed once more against the silent, almost a kiss of a whisper. “My, don’t you look like your father.” Harry swallowed, processing her words which were nothing but a shock to him that the woman knew his father. Then again as she, with a pained tone, added, “But those eyes… those eyes are all Lily .”
Harry wanted to know more about Y/n after that night. About her relationship with his parents. How she knew Lupin. And Snape when she appeared no older than Percy Weasley. Why was she confined to patrol the halls of Hogwarts at night and could not join them during the day. He tried asking Lupin questions when they got to his office but the man was reluctant to answer.
Harry had told Hermione and Ron of his interaction with the woman the next day. Igniting surprise in friends as well as curiosity. Hermione particularly found Y/n’s predicament quite questionable. And all the more suspicious when Harry mentioned her youthful appearance.
“I’m telling you she knew my parents,” He said, placing the goblet on the table. Glancing up he was met with her penetrating stare, brows furrowed.
“That’s impossible, Harry,” she leaned over after checking to see if anyone was listening. “If what you’re saying is true, she’d have to be the same age as Lupin--in her thirties. The only other thing I can think of is she was a child whose parents were friends with yours. Are you sure it wasn’t just your eyes playing tricks on you?”
He shook his head, crossing his arms over the table as he thought back to the night’s events. “No. The way she and Lupin interacted…it was friendly, but tense at the same time. Same with Snape--like they were old acquaintances.” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “Whatever, you’re probably right. She must’ve graduated the year before we came here--that would make sense why Snape knew her too.”
Hermione felt like something was still off, “but…you said she didn’t look older than Percy.”
“So?” Ron cuts in.
“So,” Hermione repeats with an edge to her voice, “It doesn’t make sense for her to be the same age as Percy, but graduated three years ago and knew Harry’s parents the way he’s implying she did.”
“Then she might be twenty or something,” Ron swallows a mouthful of food. At their expressions he lifts his hands with a shrug, “Look all I’m saying is some people age differently. There’ve been times where I can’t tell if someone is eighteen or twenty-five.”
Hermione slumped in her seat, no longer feeling the energy to argue. Ron did have a point, but her intuition was screaming at her there was more to the story. She’d have to do some digging.
The Golden trio discovered many revelations the night Sirius Black came to Hogwarts. After Sirius dragged Ron into the Shrieking Shack, where Hermione and Harry followed them too, they were stunned to their core upon the arrival of Remus and Y/n. Hermione nauseated at being in the same room as Y/n once more. Having met her the night after Harry when she snuck out of the dorms to the library. It led her to investigate the years Harry’s parents were at Hogwarts, at the same time Snape assigned an essay on werewolves . Resulting in Hermione to uncover two shocking discoveries.
And seeing the two with Sirius brought an overwhelming fear to consume her.
“No!” She shouted, still blocking Harry from the three. “I trusted you! He’s a werewolf!” She points to him, glancing over her shoulder to her friends. “That’s why he’s been missing classes.” She gulps, moving her gaze to the woman beside Lupin. Her voice went lower, “And she….she’s a vampire .” The boys’ stomach plummeted, shudders running up their spines as their mouths went agape.
Lupin was a werewolf. And Y/n was a vampire.
Lupin creeps closer, removing his hand from Sirius shoulder while Y/n stays put. “How long have you known?”
“Since Professor Snape sent the essay,” she pauses again, a cold chill upon her by the way Y/n was staring at her. Intimidating her with those blank eyes. “And when I found the yearbook from when you were all at school. She’s looked the same for fifteen years!” Hermione took a step back as Y/n moved beside Lupin. “Minus the eyes. It’s why she only walks the castle at night. And why Dumbledore’s been having blood from blood banks donated to madam Pomprey.”
The adults are impressed, Y/n holding back a laugh as she mutters, “Clever girl.”
Remus smirks, “Well, well, well Hermione, you really are the brightest witch of your age I’ve ever met.” From behind, Sirius loses his patience.
“Enough talk, Remus, c’mon. Let’s kill him!”
“Wait--!”
“I did my waiting!” The words echo off the walls, bursting out of Sirius's chest like an explosion. “Twelve years of it! In Azkaban!”
The night had been full of so much chaos. Not only was their professor a werewolf and nightguard a vampire, but Peter Pettigrew was alive and Sirius was innocent. Then Sirius revealed to Harry once they left the Shack that Y/n had actually been named Harry’s Godmother. Filling in the blanks Harry conjured as he tried to piece together the relationship she had with his parents.
Sirius didn’t want to talk about the night she turned, but informed Harry that she’d left England by order of the Ministry. They put her on their record of living vampires and told her she’d have to request permission to return each time she wanted to visit. Sentencing her to a nomadic life across the globe. The one time she did come home was shortly after Harry’s birth when Lily managed to track her down. Three years after becoming a vampire, her self-control had improved.
Their conversation was interrupted when the group had the horrifying realization it was the night of a full moon. Lighting up the sky as it broke through the clouds. Casting down its curse on the man bound to it.
Harry will never forget the image of watching Remus in full transformation going toe-to-toe with Y/n’s true form. The black veins under her bloodshot, blackened eyes. The gray disappeared from the dilation of her pupils. Fangs protruding from her gums, jaw practically dislocated and hissing like a wild animal out for the blood she craved. The two ripping at each other’s flesh, their strength inhuman. Y/n obviously holding back to not kill Remus by accident, who was fighting her with the intent to kill given his mind was lost to the moon. If either of them bit the other it would end in tragedy.
And while at the time Y/n had 15 years of self-control under her belt, there was always the risk she could lose it.
Even Snape was terrified. Seeing the creature in replace of the girl who saved his life all those years prior. A painful reminder of what could have been his reality. In the years following the incident Snape felt guilt and remorse for Y/n--who’d been the only one in James Potter’s friend group to show him kindness. Often scolding the others for their behavior. She was close to Lily and even sat with her and Snape in class or the Great Hall.
After the clouds cleared and the sun replaced the moon, Harry found himself in Remus’s office, alongside Y/n. It was the first time she’d been out in the daylight, though her body was covered head-to-toe, and sunglasses masked her eyes. Staying along the walls where the shadows seek shelter from the sun.
“What happened?” Harry asked her when Remus left the room, but not before giving Y/n a friendly hug with the promise to write to her. She would be returning to Hogwarts, continuing her position as night guard. The Golden trio added to the small list of people aware of her condition. “How did you…” he bit his lip, unsure of the right words. “Become what you are?”
If she was bothered by the question, she was good at hiding it. Face never wavering from its expression. “It’s not a pleasant story to the ears, Harry. And I don’t,” she gave a sad smile. “I don’t want to ruin the image you have of your Godfather and Dumbledore--and even Remus.” That had him confused.
Why would it ruin his image of them? Especially Dumbledore?
“You’re my Godmother,” Harry defended, still reeling in the happiness of knowing he had some family besides his abusive aunt and uncle. People who cared for him. “I want us to not have secrets with each other. I want to understand you--and know how to help you.”
Y/n chuckled, bringing a cold hand to push some hair from Harry’s face that fell between his eyes. Gently stroking the scar on his forehead as she did so. “I’d expect nothing less from a Gryffindor. You were very brave last night. Saving Sirius and coming between Remus and I.” He flushed, rosy cheeks painting his face. Y/n sighed, removing her glasses so Harry could see her gray eyes. “What I’m going to tell you is not a story for the faint of heart, Harry. Remus, Sirius, Snape, your father….” her sharp inhale lingered a moment. “Life did not treat us well. And we’re still dealing with the consequences.”
By the end of the tragic story, Harry was at a loss for words. Disbelieved by the truth of Y/n’s origins of becoming a vampire. Initially he thought the group had stumbled upon a rogue one and it targeted her. No, it was deeper and more personal.
Sirius tried pranking Snape during a full moon. Snape took the bait. His father and Y/n went to save Snape from being killed and Remus attacked her. Leaving her half-dead by the time they reached the infirmary. And Dumbledore made the life-changing decision to transform her into a vampire rather than let her die.
Sentencing her to a life of eternity, feeding off the blood of humans and to watch her loved ones die while she remained. The same face of an eighteen-year-old girl walking the Earth forever.
Harry’s heart shattered.
“What now?” came the question minutes later. Wondering how Y/n managed to stay at Hogwarts, working for the man she clearly loathed by the way she talked about him. Still angry by his decision. “Why are you staying when Sirius is free? Don’t you want to get away from here?”
‘Away from the painful memories?’ He wanted to add.
All he got was a shrug and a small smile. “And leave you?” His chest burst with emotion. A statement so simple, but worth a thousand words. “You’re my Godson are you not? Other forces are a threat to you, Harry. And I will not let your parents down.”
And she didn’t.
Four years later after that fateful night and here the two were sitting on the edge of the half-destroyed Astronomy tower. Overlooking the river while a lone Phoenix flew across the sky. Embarking on the silence, honoring their loved ones.
Unsure of what future laid ahead of them, but one thing was for sure. Life may not have treated them well, but the best they could do was move forward. Not let the deaths be for nothing. Make sure the peace withstood to prevent another war.
The history books would go on to write about the Boy Who Lived and his Godmother, the Lone Vampire. Her name and face, however, are hidden from the public eye. And as the decades pass more and more of her friends join the souls lost in the castle. Leaving only those lucky enough to cross paths to have a glimpse in their memory.
For she would forever be a mystery, with the moon and stars as her companion.
𓏲ּ𝄢 ⸝⸝ contents: slight obsessive behavior(reader), blood and blood drinking and might be a LITTLE suggestive..
(reader was turned when she was 20 and is now 22, katsuki is also 22 if that matters idk)
(Warning: may be ooc!!)
At first glance, Katsuki thinks you’re a fucking weirdo. From your skin seeming like you haven’t seen the sun a day in your life, your un-humanly red eyes(he's a hypocrite), your dumb canines that hung over your lip, and honestly you had such an dreadful vibe to you—with every word and glance, he hated you a little more. 
When the two of you are forced to work as a pair, he couldn’t be any more pissed than he was the second he heard your name with his. “I suppose this is destiny..” you said, stony. Your gaze was so wide and piercing, he felt a shiver (of annoyance of course)
You knew from the second you laid eyes on him, you wanted his blood. The way your fangs twitched, everything went a blur around you—except the sound of his blood flowing through his delicious flesh. You had to bite your tongue to refrain from feasting in the middle of your math lecture. This was absolute torture! Your eyes followed his every move. From the subtle twitches in his eyelid or his purposeful steps as he brushes past everyone like he owns the place.
You wanted nothing more than to be around him, even though he expressed his anger countless times. All you focused on was his blood. Shaaaaa.. it was fascinating really, no matter how many times you’ve heard the sound or smelt the iron. It’s never gotten old. You wanted every drop of him for yourself, you practically drooled at the thought of it. Not only his blood but his face. He was a dishy boy, his hair so striking it could stand out in the gorgeous moonlight, his scent was so sweet.. like caramel.
Would his blood taste as sweet and pure as it smells?
eventually, Katsuki accepts your irritating presence as a part of his routine. “Just stop staring at me like a weirdo and it’s whatever.” He says for the tenth time that month, for some reason, every. single. time. He looks over to you, and your eyes are practically dangling out of their sockets. What the fuck was so interesting about him? Had you not gotten tired of this?
Katsuki’s friends had started to take notice of you and your strange quirks. “What's her issue, man?” Kirishima asked, and Katsuki just rolled his eyes in reply. “Is she your girlfriend?” Kaminari would tease, wiggling his brows to irritate the boy further. Katsuki began to notice some odd things, other than your rather stalkerish approach. “Where the hell did you come from?” He’d question, you had just.. appeared in front of him even though he had just seen you across the campus.
Another incident, in the morning he noticed a small but noticeable laceration on your forearm, something he was absolutely sure was really there. But when he saw you again during passing period, it was gone. Not a scar or scab left behind to ensure he wasn’t crazy. Not that he was, of course he wasn’t! “What is it you are implying?” You’d snap, his interrogation running stupidly obvious.
“.. never mind.”
That was when he decided to do something stupid, cause he knew you’d be watching, of course. He could literally feel your gaze from across the room. If he were wrong.. which he wouldn’t be, he’d let it be. If he was right.. well he doesn’t know yet. He brought the post-it note to his fingertips, the paper gliding under his skin.
You watched as the faint white line splurged red, the hunger in you coiled throughout your veins. Your hands shook violently as they clawed at your skirt, and your chest started to rise and fall frantically. Your fangs dug into the plush of your bottom lip.
Why was he doing this?
Did he figure you out?
He scoffed, licking the blood off his fingertip.
God, you were quite envious.
After that incident, you found yourself doing what seemed to be pulling back. You swerved the opposite way when you saw him on campus, you kept your gaze locked on the desk instead of Katsuki, you couldn’t risk letting him find out. He’d only do what you feared most.
“You’re such a creep!” “Quit fucking stalking me!” “No wonder you have no friends, I wouldn’t wanna be around someone like you either!” The words of your past “friends”, they always stuck with you. Maybe it was their blood, or their flesh, you didn’t quite understand it yet.
The thing about you is that, despite your peculiar personality. You didn’t care about those you sucked dry. They weren’t ever your friends, at least that’s how it felt. But he never made you feel that way. And you never wanted to hear those words from Katsuki Bakugo, you surely did not desire seeing him walk away. Never. It seemed he was the only human who remained that you could call a “friend”, this couldn’t be the end.
A shame it’d be if you had to drain him. .
Katsuki wasn’t one to be in touch with his emotions; sure, they’d spill out at a moment's weakness. But he never understood them. Nor did he try to, emotions meant absolute weakness, and Katsuki Bakugo was anything but weak. He felt a weird feeling in his chest, it felt like his insides were being twirled like a whirlpool. It was ever since he reluctantly accepted you as his “friend”, more so he admitted it to shut you up.
Anyway, what curse did you put on him? And why the fuck were you pushing him away?????
It was maybe 3 days later, and he still couldn’t get a word out of you. He was walking home to see his parents after a long week, his mind running through every single word he’d said the past week. Was there an insult he accidentally let slip? He was pulled from his thoughts by a cry, his head jerked to the alleyway. “Stop it!” That sounded awfully like.. you?
He darted down the alley before he could even realize, his steps so sudden he practically tripped over himself. Someone grabbed at him, pinning him to the brick wall. “Get the fuck off me!” He didn’t recognize the hooded man, and where did your voice come from?
You stood frozen, watching Katsuki from the darkness of the alleyway.
Who was that holding him?
Were they trying to feed on him? You were in front of him in the blink of an eye, the attacker was quite blown aback. You ejected your fangs, a small hiss leaving your lips. He remained hugging the wall, his breath so heavy it cascaded down your neck, “Y/N?..”
he was right all along, you were a fucking vampire. A VAMPIRE. No, that’s not right, he must be hallucinating. “Abasing yourself, don’t you think?” You declared, “You sure are one to talk, protecting humans? Really? How interesting! Last I remember, we don’t hoard our food do we?” “He’s not food! He’s my friend!” His chest tightened, a part of him didn’t wanna be just your friend.. He didn’t understand what was wrong with him, but your presence was grounding. He hated it. (Fucking liar)
Did he.. like you?
After that, everything started to make sense. The stupid cloak you wore every day, the bottle of “water” you never let anyone but yourself touch/drink out of, and your stupidly aware senses that you called “superstition”
“There’s no fucking way I just said that.”
“I suppose I wouldn’t mind reciprocating my feelings to you, but what happens then?”
“Wha’dya mean? We’ll take it slow, theres no rush.”
The relationship didn’t suppress your hunger, of course it didn’t that’d be illogical, if anything it made it worse.
His scent, his blood, his beautiful face and flesh, god you wanted it all. And you tried your best to hide your bloodlust, despite him already knowing.
But he could easily tell, he wasn’t an idiot.
“Quit starin’ already, come here.”
You padded over, your knees straddling his thighs. You stared into his deep ruby eyes, your stare as unsettling as it could be, “well?”
“What?”
“Go ahead,” he huffed, pulling the shoulder of his shirt lower revealing his smooth skin.
“I’m not going to feast on you, If thats what you’re asking..”
he sighed, “why not? You’re hungry, aren’t you?”
“Yes.. but it’s gonna hurt you, I won’t do that”
“I couldn’t care any less about that, jus’..” he trailed off, watching your gaze float away.
You couldn’t help but chew the inside of your cheek, as much as you wanted this, you couldn’t scare him away now.
“Look at me,”
Your eyes snapped to his, his eyes searched for anything that didn’t want this.. and he obviously didn’t find it.
“please Y/N I want you to.” His voice cracked, pathetically. “Please.”
You held eye contact for a moment, his pleads made you lower your mouth with each beg.
Your fangs emerged, ready to sink into his skin. It was so intimate, the squelch of his flesh as your fangs sunk deeper and deeper, his low growls as you slowly drank the life out of him.
His blood was as perfect as you fantasized, sweet and addictive. You couldn’t stop, his chest started to stutter against yours.
His head felt light, the room started to spin.
You were gonna kill him if he didn’t stop you.
“Alright that’s enough.. y/n. C’mon..” His hand trailed your back, up into your hair, his fingers curling into your strands.
Control yourself.. control.. control.
You unwillingly retreated your teeth, his wound trickling scarlet.
“‘M sorry, was that too much? Here, let me help.”
Your tongue sponged the blood dripping down his neck, your hunger was delighted.
Your spit slowly closed the fang shaped gashes on his neck, you pressed a quick yet gentle kiss to his healing contusions.
The action sending shivers down his spine.
You quickly lapped the crimson around your mouth, the blood staining your lips and teeth.
“Are you alright? I didn’t take too much, did I?”
“S’okay, you satisfied?” He smiled, uneven and drowsy. “Am I ever?”
He chuckled lowly, his lips meeting your forehead in a slow, gentle caress.
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆⚰︎⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧ ➸ 𝗧𝗪𝗢𝗩𝗜𝗔𝗟𝗦𝗢𝗙𝗔𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗔’𝗦 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗞𝗧𝗢𝗕𝗘𝗥𝟮𝟱 ➸ 𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗙𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗡 ➸ fear play • james potter x vampire!reader
𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: vampire!reader, reader is a black family friend, unprotected (?) sex, breeding (? she’s dead), it’s not necrophilia but she is dead, mentions of blood, biting, teeth etc, cowgirl, sub!james, is it even fear play or is he just scared, not proofread
𝗔/𝗡: i’m so annoyed at myself bc i hate this but i hope you love it 🧛🏻♀️
It might have been a cliche, to show up just as lightning struck. But a dramatic entrance was presented to you in the form of a suspiciously timed, definitely accidental powercut. What kind of vampire would you be if you didn’t take that chance?
You had it planned out. Drop into Grimmauld Place, say something effortlessly theatrical, and wrap Sirius up in the tightest hug you could, whilst remembering his mortality and not squeezing him to death. You hadn’t seen him since he was young, ostracised from any communication with the family once Walburga found out what you were. Some childhood friend she was. She was just jealous that she got to fifty, and you still looked twenty-nine. Not that you were bitter.
A clap of thunder alerted you to the fact that you were still standing outside the front door, pondering your decades-old grudge with a dead woman. You raised your gloved hand, curling it into a fist to rap loudly on the door, the sound echoing around the street. Just as you did, it swung open. Your mouth curled up into a wide grin.
“I think you have a little bit of a bat problem.” you mused, and Sirius beamed down at you for approximately two seconds, almost as if he only needed to affirm your identity, before throwing himself at you for such an enthusiastic hug that you almost stumbled backwards.
Sirius led you through the hallway, and you had to hold your tongue to save you from making a remark about how it was exactly the same. You didn’t think he’d appreciate that. The portrait of Regulus at the bottom of the stairs called your name. Sirius didn’t hear, so you pretended you didn’t either- that was a pain you’d not quite worked yourself up to address yet.
The house was dark, lit only by candles and the occasional flash of lightning that made the house look awful- bright, almost sterile. Very out of character for this miserable place, you thought, but you were snapped out of your own head when Sirius started introducing you to people. You hadn’t expected to see anyone other than Sirius- of course, initially, you anticipated to be reunited with Regulus, but that preconception was thwarted by the owl Sirius sent you. It began with something along the lines of ‘I thought you’d have heard’, and that was about all you remembered.
“..This is Remus, you remember Remus, and this is James.”
Your eyes snapped up when you realised you should have been listening. They latched onto Remus first, who offered you a small wave, and a joke about how you were ‘sworn enemies’. You laughed politely, not particularly amused, but happy to be welcomed instead of feared.
Then your gaze shifted to a face you hadn’t seen for a hundred years.
He was beautiful, so much more than you remembered, and you had no idea how that was even possible. The glasses adorning his face were rectangular, instead of the little half-moons they once were, and he was dressed in clothes he never would have understood the last time you spoke. Those were the only differences.
“Hey.” he said, and his voice was the same. He offered you a smile, as his eyes trailed over your body, and a shiver tore through you, shooting down your spine like a bullet. You were officially speechless for the first time in decades.
To the others, it must have looked like you didn’t quite understand why James was standing in front of you. If you were able to see yourself in the mirror hanging above the dining table, you’d have noticed that you were frozen still; eyes wide, hands clasped tightly together in front of you. Sirius shifted nervously beside you, snapping you out of your daze and alerting you to the fact that you needed to explain your bewilderment.
“You have a very familiar face.” you croaked quietly. James just laughed, finally understanding your strange behaviour, but you could sense something else in his demeanour. Nervousness, maybe. Whatever it was, it was intoxicating.
For the rest of the evening, James couldn’t shake a strange sense of deja vu. It wasn’t the house- no, he’d never been there before, and he was only there now to help Sirius clear it out following the death of his parents. It had to have been you. But he’d never met you before.
Suffice to say, it was an intimidating feeling to be stuck with when you didn’t understand it. It loomed over James, unsettling him just enough that he couldn’t shake it off, and it followed him until he finally laid down that night. He stared up at the ceiling, thinking about your face, burned into his memory as if he’d known it for centuries.
Something about your familiarity was alluring to James. It was as if you had your own gravitational pull. Your face, still the same after all your years of being; your smile, the way your fangs pushed into your bottom lip when you were really grinning; and then there was the sound of your voice-
“Your heart is hammering.”
James startled, sitting up in bed. His eyes locked on you, holding your wand out to light the room. It flickered like candlelight, the shadows dancing across your skin. The fact that you appeared just as he thought of you was alarming to him. As if you’d known- or, perhaps, that you’d been thinking about him, too.
“How do you know?” he asked warily, regarding you with a certain hesitance, for now. As enchanting as you were to James, he was still very aware of the fact that you weren’t like him. You were something else entirely, something that transcended his human understanding of mortality.
You giggled softly, taking a step into the room. The door was already shut behind you. How had James not heard you come in? Did you even use the door?
“I can hear it from down the hall,” you whispered, crossing the floor slowly. It groaned under your weight. A reminder that this was real. “Your blood. It roars. I can only describe it as the sound of the ocean. Don’t try to slow it down.”
James faltered, halting his conscious effort to calm the chaos coursing through his nervous system. His deep breaths had obviously not been working, however, because your eyes were still latched onto his chest, heaving, breathing.
You lit a candelabra with your wand, slowly, methodically, waiting for each wick to foster its own flame, and then set it to one side. Your movements themselves made no noise- not a breath, nor a rustle of your robes, almost as if the air didn’t even shift around you. When your gaze finally landed on James’ eyes, a draft sighed through the room, making the window slam. James jumped.
It wasn’t until you climbed onto the bed that James came to realise what you wanted from him. He had been too hypnotised by you until that point, watching the way you carried yourself- as if you were used to moving faster, and it was a conscious effort to move at a normal, human pace. You didn’t walk, so much as arrive, and before James knew it, you were crawling up the mattress, towards him. That was when his pulse really started to pound, and it was deafening.
“You’re frightened.” you whispered, and it was obvious now that your smirk wasn’t a trick of the light.
James swallowed thickly, unable to tear his gaze away from the way you crept towards him. It was almost predatory: you, prowling like a panther, listening to his heart. How was he to know you weren’t sizing him up? And if you were, would he really have minded?
That was the tricky part of this situation, the fact that James was at an impasse. Yes, you were an ancient, dangerous creature, seeking him out for a purpose he didn’t quite understand yet. But, you were clambering on top of him in the middle of the night, your cold, dead hands trailing up his body, and that was enough to send all of his blood immediately south. He hoped you hadn’t noticed. You definitely had.
“It is you.” you sighed wistfully, reaching forwards to pluck the glasses off of James’ face with one hand, the other tilting his chin up towards you. “My goodness, that’s-”
“You’re fucking freezing.”
“Of course I’m freezing, I’m dead.” you replied quickly, interrupting his interruption, as if you had guessed what James was going to say before he said it. He nodded pathetically, his heart rate rocketing.
James was almost nauseous when you pushed your hands under his shirt, the fear consuming him like a plunge into cold water. He shivered, breaths coming out in ragged huffs, but he unconsciously rolled his hips up, cock straining against the fabric concealing it. He couldn’t remember a time where he’d ever been so hard, until now, where he was so disgustingly aroused that he’d have done anything you asked, no questions. Except for the one that he had for you.
“Why me?” he asked, but your answer was drowned out by a noisy slam. As if the house were objecting to the absurdity of such a question.
The window flew open again, air barrelling through the room like a wind tunnel.
The candles blew out.
When they flickered to life again, enchanted with resilience to drafts, you had moved. You were on top of James, now, straddling his hips, even though he hadn’t felt you take your place there.
“Fuck-“ he gasped, flinching, even though his hands went to your hips.
“One hundred and seven.” you whispered. “I’ve not had you like this for a hundred and seven years.”
Your voice carried through the air like a chill, the iciness scarcely veiling your desire as you dragged James’ shirt off over his head. There he was, in a t-shirt and boxers, with you on top of him a corseted dress. Physically, you were worlds apart, but the spiritual connection made up for that in spades.
The moonlight made your skin look almost translucent as you pulled the strings of your dress, and both of you watched eagerly as it fell down around your shoulders. James couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine when he saw the two pinprick marks on your breast. His eyes locked onto them. Your eyes darted away. Your back stiffened instantly, and you felt the need to change the subject.
“Best not to kiss me, cobweb. The fangs get in the way.”
“Cobweb?”
“Oh, you don’t remember.” you sighed, as if that should have been obvious. Yet, somehow, some part of you was still disappointed. “I won’t call you that.”
James looked at you as if you were insane. Why on earth would he ever do something so stupid as to refuse an evidently sentimental pet name from you? For the first time since you snuck up on him, he smiled, jostling you forward by bouncing his legs, so your faces were inches apart.
“You can call me whatever you want.”
You didn’t speak as you stood up to remove the rest of your clothes. The two of you shared the silence instead, and it felt slightly more comforting to be quiet together than it was when you were alone. James observed carefully as you undressed, and you were perfectly fine with that. Your body had belonged to him in another lifetime anyway. It was about time you gave it back.
The coldness of your skin was a stark reminder to James of just what you were. And that was intimidating. Usually, however, the fear would bubble in his chest, drying his throat, and sometimes presenting as a bout of nausea for good measure. This case seemed different. It was almost as if you transformed his fear into arousal, especially as you sank down onto his cock, hissing like you ached. Because in some ways, you did. That was brought to your attention as you set a pace with your hips, driving them slowly backwards forwards to every other beat of James’ heart. It ticked away like a metronome for you, and you were happy to oblige.
You had expected that James would be too frightened. That he would squeeze his eyes shut, not daring to look at you. Or perhaps he would keep his hands away from your skin, refraining from touching something that wasn’t alive. But he did the opposite of that. His hands were on your thighs, guiding you over his length, and his gaze was roving all over your figure as if you were going to disappear at any moment, and James was trying to make the most of it.
“You’re not afraid?” you asked, your voice quiet. Tentative. If you could breathe, it would have been a whisper.
“Terrified,” he huffed. “But you’re so beautiful.”
You smiled softly, only the very tips of your fangs protruding from your grin, but then your mouth fell open, and a shameless moan tumbled from your lips. James closed his eyes briefly when you moaned, because you had also accidentally tightened your grasp on his shoulders. Your long nails dug into his flesh, and sent his mind reeling with hundreds of conspiracies about what would happen if you broke the skin.
He didn’t need to wonder for much longer, though, because just as he got lost in his thoughts, you yelped, reeling backwards as if you’d been burned. Concerned that he had hurt you, James stilled the encouragement of his hips, and that was when he saw the blood under your nails. You closed your eyes, as if that would make it better, but the scent of it was unshakeable, already coursing through your senses like a high, nestling forever in the deepest part of your brain. This was going to take a lot more restraint than you’d anticipated, and James had never been so scared.
Your eyes darkened, and you ran your tongue over one of your sharpest teeth.
“Now you look afraid.” you mused, smirk falling across your lips, and the whine that escaped the back of James’ throat was almost pornographic. “That’s good, stay frightened. That’s how I want you.”
James nodded, a pathetic mewl of your name slipping out as he bucked his hips up into you, prompting you to start moving again. Matching his heart rate this time around meant that you were riding him a lot faster, and he was almost seeing stars.
You had learned in all your years of solitude that there was no one who could really please you like yourself. You had also had centuries of practice. You longed for the feeling of release in the same way you had experienced it during your lifetime, but it was different now. It took longer. It didn’t set off as many sparks, there wasn’t enough life in your synapses to register the psychosomatics of a screaming orgasm. It was more like a dull wave, a sense of relief akin to that of scratching a mild itch.
But fuck, it still felt good.
You could feel it building right from the start. The feeling of James inside you, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix in a way that it hadn’t in an age, that was enough. The familiarity of it all was enough. As if he had never left you. As if he’d been inside you, all this time, running his hands over your glacial skin and panting your name like a prayer.
The best part of it all was the scent of his blood. It lingered still in your nostrils ever since you unintentionally cut him. You could hear it, rushing to the open wound, and then you could smell it, that tart sweetness that blood had every so often. You knew the smell of fear. It was your favourite.
You took one of James’ hands in your own, bringing it up to the marks that signified the end of your life as you knew it. He dragged his fingers over the bite, hesitantly, like vampirism was contagious. Touching you was a kind of thrill that James couldn’t really describe. He felt as if there were some reason why he shouldn’t, yet he couldn’t think of one no matter how hard he tried.
Because touching you felt good. It didn’t matter that James flinched every time you touched him; or that every time you ducked your head to rest it on his shoulder, his breath caught like he was expecting to be bitten; or even that the closer you got to your orgasm, the wider your pupils dilated, and by the time you were close, your eyes were almost black. None of that mattered to James, because it was all contributing to the heaven he believed himself to be in, so absolutely petrified of you that it was making him dizzy.
“Oh, my love,” you mused, when you felt the snap of James’ hips get a little tighter, and faster. “I want to feel you. All of you.”
James looked at you reluctantly then, but it was a sort of half-hearted hesitance. One that he didn’t want to fully commit to, out of dread for the potential consequences of disobedience.
“You can cum inside me, I’m dead.”
“Oh, thank fuck-“ he gasped at that. Trust his stupid, human body to fuck up into you as soon as you said something that could get him blamed for necrophilia.
You let out a final noisy moan as you felt warmth shooting up into your centre, and you fell forward, laying deathly still against James’ chest as you let your own orgasm wash slowly over you. He needed a minute to catch his breath, you knew that.
The haze of his climax had made James forget just who you were- what you were. As soon as his vision was clear again, and his breaths were no longer shallow, rapid huffs, you heard his pulse start to thrum faster. He gazed up at you through those gorgeous eyes as if he’d never spent a day apart from you. He just didn’t know it. To him, he was watching you. To you, he was reclaiming you.
“I never wish to be apart from you again,” you began, taking his face in your hands. “I will part seas to find you should you leave my side for a moment too long.”
“That’s very romantic.” James replied softly, laying flat against the pillows, one hand resting behind his head.
“No one else may have you- run away with me!” you insisted, with the feverishness of an excitable puppy. Your fangs flashed with your full blown grin, and the twinkle returned to your eyes. “Leave your life behind, my little cobweb. Marry me again, and we’ll fuck forever.”
Barty offers a simple solution to his girlfriend's bloodlust. (2.3k)
cw: blood, swearing, suggestive jokes
Pt. 2
Requests are open!
masterlist
Students poured into Central Hall after afternoon classes let out, eager to prepare for the Gryffindor vs Slytherin match the next morning. It was sure to be the most exciting game of the year. Barty and Regulus hadn't been able to shut up about it for the past week, squeezing in emergency practices and team meetings whenever they could. If Barty hadn't been so preoccupied with quidditch, you were sure your doting boyfriend would have noticed the light beginning to drain from your eyes.
"You look like shit, babe." Dorcas's arm weighed heavy on your tired shoulder, her well-kept brows drawing upwards in concern.
"Gee, you really know how to flatter a girl, Meadowes."
"I'm serious! Are you sure you're alright? I have an extra pepper-up potion from when I had mumblemumps last term. I think you should take it."
Her worry wasn't entirely unfounded, but it wasn't something a pepper-up potion could fix. You needed blood. And lots of it.
"I'll be fine. I was considering stopping by the infirmary before dinner anyway. Thanks though," you offered through a constricted throat.
You could hear the steady rhythm of Dorcas's pulse through her wool turtleneck. The smell of her sweet perfume and tart blood wafted over with every step she took. It was torture.
"Perfect, I'll walk you."
"Don't sweat it, Dorc. I'll manage," you laughed dryly. "Besides, your gifts are needed elsewhere. I'm sure Marlene needs to be talked off a ledge somewhere." Using your best friend's girlfriend's rampant quidditch anxiety against her was low, but you were desperate to get Dorcas as far away from you as possible.
"Shit, you're right. This fucking match is going to be the death of us all. You're positive you can make it there? I don't need Barty up my arse because of your poor judgment." Her tone was firm, but a playfulness was behind her bright eyes.
You waved her off, beelining for the Hospital Wing as quickly as your strained muscles would allow. The ache slowly creeping into your bones was just another telltale symptom of your ever-growing thirst.
When Madame Pomfrey saw your tired frame enter the infirmary, she rushed to your side, abandoning her post by a first-year with Black Cat flu.
"Oh goodness, deary! You should have come earlier this month. I was beginning to fret," The moment her motherly hands cupped your cheeks, the promise of relief only increased your bloodlust. "Any symptoms yet? It's been nearly five weeks!" she shrieked, leading you into her private office and closing the door behind her.
You let out a sigh, "Just a little thirsty."
That was a massive understatement.
Potion bottles tinkered around in the tall medicine cabinet as Madame Pomfrey rifled through its vast contents. You bit down on your lip to keep the thirst at bay. It was all-consuming.
The healer was right- you should have come to see her sooner, but your course load had been overwhelming and you'd mistaken the early symptoms for stress. You normally visited the infirmary once a month to feed on animal blood collected by Professor Kettleburn and would live off of bloodpops from Honeydukes between visits. It wasn't an ideal feeding schedule, but you'd make anything work if it meant you were allowed to attend Hogwarts. You'd never gone this long before and you were one mishap away from disaster.
A loud crash pulled you from your thoughts. Shattered glass and spilled potions were at Madame Pomfrey's feet. Before you could call out to stop her from attempting to pick up a broken vial, she nicked her hand on the sharp glass. Hot blood dripped onto the marble floor. You could feel your pupils dilating and your canines elongating- preparing for a kill. It wasn't a large cut, but five weeks was too long to go between feedings...
"I really do need to be more careful! No matter..." She turned back to the cabinet, unfazed by her bleeding hand. "It seems Professor Kettleburn may have made a mistake, deary. I'm sure he can get it sorted by Monday, though."
"What kind of mistake?" Your voice came out as a whimper as you tried to ignore the tempting sound of blood pumping through the prominent artery in the healer's inviting neck and the even more tempting smell of the sticky blood staining her hand.
Her voice became a distant mumbling as your enhanced sense of smell fought to take over your thoughts completely. There's no blood.
You faintly heard her calling your name as you stumbled out of her office and into the main area of the hospital wing, covering your nose to the best of your ability. Hot tears threatened to spill onto your hollow cheeks. This can't be happening, you thought. You burst into the hallway with a life or death mission: get to the emergency bloodpop stash you kept hidden in your trunk. In the frenzy, a hard chest collided with you.
"Sugar? What's happened?" Barty's arms circled your middle before you could push past the sweaty group of Slytherin boys returning from the quidditch pitch. You used his steady strength to your advantage, leaning into him fully as he tucked you carefully under the arm not carrying his broom. He didn't need to ask for confirmation before he began herding you to the dungeons, already aware of where you were headed in such a hurry.
"You're scaring me, love." A line creased between his brows- worry etched into his pretty face.
"Dormitory...now," you whispered, trying to remain discreet in the busy corridor.
"Working on it, Sugar." At the pained sound of your voice, Barty picked up the pace significantly- hoisting you up and practically carrying you down the castle's stairs. His broom doubled as a walking stick as he bore your full weight.
When the common room revealed itself, you used the last bit of your energy to break free from Barty's grasp and took the stairs leading to the girl's dormitory two at a time. Your weakened muscles screamed at the over-exertion, but you didn't have time to spare. Everyone within the castle walls would be in grave danger if your thirst wasn't satiated this instant. The smell of the one remaining bloodpop in the bottom of your trunk was the only thing you let yourself focus on. It wouldn't be enough to hold you over for longer than a few hours, but that was a problem for later.
Barty bounded up the stairs behind you after a brief moment of shock, not caring about how unhinged he must look chasing a visibly ill girl in his soiled quidditch uniform, muddy broom in hand. His goggles were hastily pushed up, mussing his sandy hair in all directions but the one it was meant to lay in. No one in the common room seemed to care much, seeing as it wasn't abnormal to witness Barty in such a state- especially not when it came to matters involving you.
He found you hunched over, head between your bent knees, sitting against the foot of your bed. There was a discarded bloodpop wrapper at your feet and your belongings were strewn about the room as though you'd thrown them in a fit of rage.
"Hey, Sugar," Barty started, trying his best to be gentle so as to not spook you. He carefully closed and locked the door behind him before joining you on the floor.
"Go away, Barty. You don't need to see me like this."
"Like what, dollface? I always want to see you."
"Not now you don't." Your voice was no more than a whimper. Barty felt a painful tug in his chest at the sound. "It's dangerous for you to be here when I'm this thirsty," you sniffled, trying to feel satisfied after devouring the candied blood in seconds. The beating of his heart only made you more parched.
"Oh, come off it. You know you're not getting rid of me that easy. Danger is my middle name."
He smiled softly at the tiny scoff you let out- proud of himself for breaking your resolve so quickly.
"No, seriously. Barty 'Danger' Crouch Jr. that's what they call me. Come on, Sugar. I skive off class, I beat lads up while flying on brooms-"
"Barty 'Danger' Crouch Jr.?" You interrupted, unable to fully suppress your smile.
"-I shout in the library," he whispered against the shell of your ear, successfully earning a giggle. "So what if my super fit, crazy smart, incredibly lovely girlfriend has a slightly unconventional diet? I'm pretty sure I can handle it, Sugar." His hand cupped the side of your cheek. You gazed into his lovesick eyes and melted into him. You sighed.
"Unconventional is not what I'd call it. I drink blood, Barty. And everyone's going to find out if I don't get more by tonight."
No one at school other than a handful of professors and Barty knew of your condition. Dumbledore thought it best to keep things under wraps, lest concerned parents were to find out and cause trouble. Telling Barty was the scariest thing you'd ever done, but it was necessary if you were going to have a somewhat normal relationship with him. Thankfully, he seemed relatively unphased by the whole 'undead girlfriend' thing.
"You haven't fed at all this month?" Worry was written all over his face. That was one of your favorite things about Barty- his face never lied. He always wore his emotions plainly for all to see.
"Just bloodpops. I went to see Madame Pomfrey today, but I guess Professor Kettleburn got his dates mixed up or something so there wasn't any blood. She said he could get some by Monday, but..."
Silence fell over you. Barty was lost in thought.
"I'll get kicked out of Hogwarts if I lose control. I almost did lose control just now. I...I don't know what to do. I'm still so thirsty-"
"Bite me," he offered with a nonchalant shrug.
"What?"
"Bite me, Sugar. I've got plenty of blood to go around. You need it."
"No. Absolutely not."
"Why not? You need fresh blood, I'm offering it straight from the source."
"That's not the point," you snapped.
"What is the point then? I'm not seeing the problem."
"The problem," you started, pointing a finger into his hard chest, "is that I've never done that before, Barty. We have no idea what the effects of drinking human blood may have on me. What if I can't stop?" Tears welled in your eyes and streamed down your pale cheeks. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself."
Barty tsked, wiping his thumbs across your cheeks. "Oh, my sweet girl." He placed a placating kiss on the top of your head, pulling you into his chest. Normally, you'd recoil at his sweaty state, but the saccharine scent of his blood masked any odor. You could hear the rush of blood flowing into every vein, rhythmically circulating through each valve, ventricle, and atrium of his heart. It was as though every part of his being was taunting you- daring you- to have a taste. Maybe you could stop after just a small sample. The skin of his neck would be so easily punctured...if he was offering maybe...
You blinked the thoughts away, pulling your head back. This was just the thirst talking. You weren't in your right mind.
"Sugar, I promise you I wouldn't offer if I didn't have absolute trust that it would be okay." He lowered his head to look directly into your teary eyes. "I want you to do this. I want to help you."
You paused, considering him. And because Barty's face never lied, you could tell he meant every bit of what he was saying. He trusted you. And you trusted Barty.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, it'll be hot." He shrugged off his jersey, exposing his sculpted torso. "Eat your heart out," he winked, leaning back to rest against the foot of the bed.
You hesitantly started toward him, straddling his hips, careful in your movements. You felt your canines sharpen in preparation.
"Tell me if it hurts or if it's too much," you demanded, trying your best to sound stern through your cracking voice.
"I'll be fine, Sugar. I like it rough." He was joking, but the glint of mischief in his eyes hinted at his excitement.
You leaned in, mouth slightly parted. His collarbone made an excellent resting place for your chin as your trembling lips pressed against the warm skin of his neck. Barty tilted his head, allowing you full access to the side of his throat. He could sense your nerves, so he ran his fingers through your hair, encouraging you with each stroke.
"Go on," he whispered. "Bite me."
And you did.
Barty's blood was unlike anything you'd ever tasted. It was sweet and metallic and tangy and delicious. Most animal blood had a bitter quality to it that you'd grown used to, but this was divine. Your teeth punctured just below his jugular to get as much blood as possible without damaging any major veins. The moment the hot liquid passed through your lips, it was as though you'd discovered a drug made just for you.
After a few gulps, you forced yourself to detach from Barty's neck. He hissed at the retreat of your teeth. Two small puncture wounds steadily bled onto his chest, blood pooling in the hollow of his collarbone. Without thinking, you lunged forward and licked the sweet substance from his skin, running your tongue along the holes you left behind. Barty stared at you in awe, holding your face in his large hand as though you were the most precious thing in his world.
"That was..." he started, breathless, "so hot." He leaned in, kissing you fervently. Barty was a man starved. The sight of you wild-eyed and satisfied, mouth dripping with his blood was a thing of beauty. He knew then he'd do anything to become your own, personal blood supply.
First one-shot of 2025! Let me know what you think! I wrote this pretty quickly, so I hope there aren't any mistakes. ❤️
I loved all your vampire!reader works, what do you think about human!bakugo and vampire!reader in a no quirk au??🤔
oh dear anon i feel very passionately... doing headcanon format because its been a hot minute teehee
vampire!reader who had poor poor very much a human bakugo so horribly smitten it was insane. he wasn't going to flat out state that (who do you think he is?) but it was so obvious at times. no he didn't make sure that every mirror in his house lacked silver in the material to make sure they could see themselves! no he didn't make sure all utensils were silver-free so they wouldn't burn themselves! that's ridiculous of you to say!
vampire!reader who on one too many occaisions did scare the shit out of bakugo doing the most mundane tasks in his apartment. he'd wake up at 4am with a scratchy throat and stumble into the kitchen for some water just to see your shadowy figure standing there making yourself food. or when he comes home from work while the sun is, surprisingly, still out and he sees you laying on the couch taking a nap. it was a jumpscare and every single time he thought there was a corpse in his house.
human!bakugo who lets vampire!reader feed on him. he doesn't hesitate to give himself up whenever they need it. thigh? arm? neck? yeah, he already has towels prepared and settling himself on the couch with water and energy drinks. it hurt majorly the first time and got numbing gel for the few times after, but he eventually got used to it after a while.
you sat in between his parted legs, gaze focused on his exposed neck as he tiled his head for you. the perfect spot for you to feed on, the conjuncture of his neck and shoulder, was being presented so prettily to you.
"gentle," bakugo mumbled under his breath, hand coming up to rest on your waist. "be gentle."
you let out a little huff, tongue poking out to lick at the area. "m'always gentle. you'll be okay."
he winced as your teeth sunk in to his flesh, piercing the skin and drawing blood from the puncture wounds. "shhh, you did so well..." you hummed softly against his skin, tongue lapping up the area once more to take in as much of the blood as possible.
"y-yeah, eat up...i know s'been a while..."
human!bakugo who learns how to cook more foods without using garlic as an ingredient. it hurts him to his very core, but seeing how appreciative you were of his efforts and how much he learned makes him feel so much better about it. and he doesn't have to worry about your health? its perfect, really.
vampire!reader who lingered. their scent, shadow, prescence...anything, really. sometimes bakugo would be at work and he'd have to look over his shoulder because he could have sworn they were there. or when walking home late at night after a night out with his friends, eyes squited at the small winged-creature he saw rushing from tree to tree. he figured it was a bird before he got home to see them through the closed balcony door. yeah, they were following him...
a vampire's long term fwbb (friend with blood benefits) making an idle remark about how it was a struggle to handle the aphrodisiac in the bite venom for the first while but now they're used to it and know to expect it and the vampire saying "hey um. so I don't have any bite venom. like at all."
stormborns
izzy806
snowghoul
areudirty
