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sommerregenjuniluft · 2 months

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@jegulus-microfic 21, 23, 24 feb - attack, alley, hungry - 1786 words - cw: blood (nothing violent though)

1920s New Orleans vampires <3 [part 1 vampire microfic, happens after this in the timeline though]

James flashes a blinding grin at the giggling young women he lets out the door before he ducks in after they’re gone. He nudges his glasses up his nose and straightens his fitted waist coat for the Christ knows how many-th time, sucking in a steadying breath as he lets his eyes sweep over the inside of the bar room.

He can do this.

He can hunt, it’s in his nature now—Barty had said so. Besides, James has always prided himself with his chivalry and charm, and now that it’s only amplified he should have no issues chatting an unsuspecting, innocent person up and taking them somewhere more private for James to be able to feed without getting caught.

The thought alone makes his teeth itch horribly and James slides his tongue along his fangs behind his lips before he makes his way farther inside.

James stops for a drink at the bar and then settles in one of the corners, slowly nursing his glass of whiskey as he browses the crowd for possible prey.

The dark-skinned woman under the spotlight is gorgeous as she sings into the microphone, golden band with white and emerald feather adorning her curly haired head.

None of the people enjoying the show spring into James’ eye, not one poor soul piquing his interest.

That is until James’ eyes settle against the other side of the room where a young man is propped against the railing of the elevated patio section of the establishment, not even pretending to watch the singer as he lazily swirls the dark liquid in his tumbler with slow circles of his wrist.

His suit is sleek and expensive looking, snug against his lean body. The pants fitted and hinting with stripes, and a plain, black fly sitting impeccably against the collar of his throat. The waistcoat seems to be velvet and there’s a silver chain disappearing into one of the pockets, evidence of what is most likely a pocket watch in the value of James’ monthly rent.

What makes James’ breath catch though is the inherent beauty of the man. Porcelain skin, perfectly rosy lips, a jawline that could cut glass and the lightest eyes James has ever seen. Unlike most men, he didn’t slick his hair back, instead choosing to wear his natural curls though they look artfully perfect like he spent hours in front of the mirror tugging each and every one neatly into place, even the one falling into his forehead, right over dark brows. Especially that one.

Before James realizes the man moves to straighten up, gaze drifting farther back into the room and snagging suddenly when he catches James already looking his way.

He keeps the eye contact up challengingly for a dragging moment and James slips into a grin, letting his head loll back and to the side against the wall. James watches the stranger’s gaze wander lower shamelessly, making his upper lip twitch with the desire to sink his teeth through pale skin and muscle.

The other man seems to be making a tch sound before turning and sauntering away but not without throwing another glance at James over his shoulder.

Oh, and how James likes them feisty. Always has.

He pushes off the wall in an instant and follows the dark head of curls through a curtain of beads leading into a random, dimly lit hallway. When James steps into it, it’s empty, obviously leading towards another room, door is open and letting James glimpse several pool and poker tables.

His teeth throb with the promise of being able to feed again as he steers for the room, though James draws up short at an alcove right next to the threshold where the man now leans.

“Looking for something?” he drawls, a strange expression on his face and James momentarily wonders if the veins around his eyes are showing without him realizing. He’s seen them pop out occasionally in the mirror when he’s particularly hungry.

Still, his mouth tugs into an easy grin as he steps closer, “Think I just found it.”

One eyebrow arches, “Did you now?”

“Mhm.”

“And what would that be?” he tips his chin up with arrogance. James wants to devour him.

But first, manners, ”Your name.”

“Regulus,” the beautiful stranger answers and James feels spit pooling under his tongue with the urge to taste him. Regulus links his hands behind his back, neck tilting to the side when James doesn’t continue, “Just that?”

Now James definitely can feel his eyes morphing. “And a little donation,” he replies, voice rough, then more darkly, “Don’t scream, don’t be scared. Everything is alright.”

“It is,” the other replies and James’ mouth tugs harder at the corners, mouth opening.

An excited chuckle punches out of him as he closes the distance, cradling the man’s jaw gently and exposing his fangs to the humid air.

It happens quickly after that.

“Fool,” he hears, a hair width before James’ teeth would have been grazing skin, and then his back is pushed into the unforgiving wall, hard stone cracking under the inhuman force of the shove and James groans. Hisses at the intake when he feels the entire length of his spine give a throb.

James‘ lurches forward instinctively, a feral snarl ripping from his throat and then he blinks when he stares back into Regulus’ unbearably pretty face marred by the same intense bloodshot eyes and violet pulsing veins. His fangs a pearly white and so long it makes James draw in a shuddering breath.

He feels that by the strong forearm still pressing into his chest and James licks his lips, stunned and breathless, “Oh, hi.”

Something blooms in his chest, unfurling and making him feel even more drawn to the other man, inexplicably reeled in, much more intensely than before.

Regulus simply rolls his eyes before pressing off him and James already mourns the contact. Craves it. Wants it back desperately, hunger and bloodthirst completely forgotten.

He’s about to open his mouth when the other vampire beats him to it, eyes narrowed calculatingly, “What is your name?”

“James,” he answers eagerly.

Something flits over Regulus’ expression for a fleeting moment and with that he turns on his heel, “Follow me.”

James blinks, shakes his head and quickly catches up to Regulus’ fast strides. His legs are miles long and James can’t quite help himself when his gaze wanders below the hem of his jacket for a few moments.

Regulus takes the few steps to the patio two at a time and James follows dutifully, taking in the lounge with wide eyes. The multiple plush armchairs and loveseats, couples entwined in each other or people talking animatedly, coy grins on their faces.

Regulus comes to a halt near the spot James first found him, a curvy woman in a knee long dress perched on the legs of a man, obscured by the woman’s curls.

“Crouch,” Regulus says pointedly, no nonsense. Right before kicking a man in the shins.

An annoyed sound, “What?” and then James’ knees nearly buckle when he smells blood.

“That one seem familiar to you?” Regulus bites out, placing a possessive hand on the back of James’ neck.

James’ mouth drops open around a quiet sound, skin prickling intensely at the contact and sending a strong tremor through his whole body.

The man lifts his face from where he was immersed, head tipping back and suddenly James is face to face with Barty, a trail of blood dripping down his chin again. Just like when he first found him a few weeks ago.

He cocks his head with a chuckle, curiously eyeing the hold the older vampire has on James. He absentmindedly licks a drop of blood from the woman’s neck, and James keens, before Barty gives a feeble shrug, grin unbearable smug. “I might.”

“Oh, you might?” Regulus spits.

James goes a little rigid at his tone, insides fluttering.

He steps forward, tugging James right with, “Barty, why does he smell like mine?”

James’ jaw drops, head whipping around and staring at Regulus’ side profile. A silent moment goes by, neither of them budging and then Barty’s brows knit with suspicion, “Like yours?”

“Yes, like mine, you fucking idiot,” he snarls and James shivers from where the other vampire’s fingers clench. “You sired him!”

Barty levels him with a look, “I sired him…to you?”

“Well, I sure as hell didn’t do it,” Regulus snaps back.

“What’s going on now?” another voice says and James swivels his head to watch a tall blonde man sidling up to them, whiskey in hand and eyeing them all warily.

With a sigh Barty mumbles something to the woman in his lap, wiping messily at the wound on her neck before tugging her scarf back in place and sending her on her way.

“Barty’s gone and sired someone,” Regulus replies and James can’t help but be endeared by the petulant tone and pouty twist of his mouth. He looks so put together and intimidating it’s just sort of…cute like that. Ridiculously cute, really.

“What?” the blonde blurts. His features harden immediately, snapping around at James like he’s going to rip his heart out of his chest right then and there.

In a split second Barty is up and holding him back with a palm against his sternum, “To Regulus, Evan, not to me.”

Evan, apparently, rips his eyes away from James, gaze boring instead into Barty’s face, restlessly searching for something as his chest heaves heavily.

Barty tugs his lower lip between teeth, taking him in appreciatively, “Pipe down, loverboy.”

The blonde bats Barty’s hand away with a sneer, poising himself before he turns back to Regulus. “How’s that even possible though?”

Regulus shoulders slump with a shrug—James hadn’t even realized how rigid he had gotten. Or when he had stepped in front of him.

Barty throws an arm around Evan’s shoulder lazily, making a dismissive sound, “Dorcas’ll figure it out for us. She always does.”

“I hope you’re right,” Regulus says, turning a glance over his shoulder and James follows it to see the attention directed towards the pretty singer from before.

A touch at his elbow has him turning back though and Regulus is suddenly much closer than before. “In the meantime,” he starts, lips spreading into a predatory smirk that has James suppressing a noise deep in his throat, “I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you?”

He nods stupidly, hands itching to reach out and swaying in again.

Regulus hums appreciatively, hooking a finger into James’ belt loop to tug once, and then promptly swivels, expecting to be followed.

James doesn’t miss the risen eyebrows and surprised expressions on the other two faces as he passes them.

#regulus is so drunk off james ppllllssss #evan was ready to pull james apart limb by limb i'm hsjfh #jegulus #jegulus microfic #starchaser #sunseeker #james potter #regulus black #jegulus fic #vampire au #tvd au #the vampire diaries au #slytherin skittles #rosekiller #lune’s tiny fic

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sommerregenjuniluft · 3 months

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@hpsaffics feb 3 - time loop - 1117words

aka fem bartylus in their bonnie and damon from season 5 of vampire diaries arc (i made myself cry with this but also i'm on my period so who knows ksfjf)

“Hey, look,” Barty says, her head popping up over one of the grocery store shelves, “The small, pickled corn cobs you like so much are on Sale.”

Regulus doesn’t have to look up to see the shit eating grin stretching her lips as she holds up the jars of pickled corn with the impossible to miss, red SALE stickers that have been there for every single day of the past 3 months. She simply rolls her eyes and turns to grab an OJ out of the cooler, like she does every Saturday morning. Regulus believes in keeping a weekly and daily schedule in favor of not going insane, thanks a lot.

There’s a noise across the empty store that sounds like Barty put two of the jars into the shopping cart.

Regulus sniffs, ignoring the flutter in her stomach as well as the sting deep inside her ribcage.

She goes about filling her own cart methodically, absentmindedly listening to Barty mucking about wherever she is. Humming under her breath, bags crinkling, the sounds of the cart clinking against stuff. Barty has great spatial awareness in any situation except for the grocery store.

Regulus still feels last weekend in the tender bruises along her Achillies heel. If bruises stayed that long she’d have enough evidence from a year ago to build a real case. They do not, however, so Regulus is just left with the knowledge of it and that hollow feeling in her chest like someone had a big scoop and Regulus’ heart was a tub of Ben & Jerries.

She continues down the aisle in a bit of a daze. Eggs, oatmilk, protein bars, Earl Grey, Spaghetti and Fusilli because Barty is a fussy shithead that won’t eat other forms of pasta.

They meet again in the snack aisle, Regulus rounding the corner and finding Barty curled over her cart, studying the back of a honey puffs packet.

She’s gnawing on her bottom lips, rosy mouth pursed to the side and the line between her eyebrows deep and pulled low beneath her fringe and Regulus watches some of the longer brown hair slip over her shoulder and to the front. The round muscle is bare, freckled, and so are her arms because last week Barty made it her mission to go through Evan’s closet and cut off the sleeves of his every one of his t-shirts.

Regulus had been furious.

She misses him desperately. Pandora and Sirius, too. The very first night she’d slept in her best friend’s bed, clad in one of Sirius’ softest shirts. Regulus doesn’t remember a time she’d wept herself to sleep so harshly.

Barty had come and gotten her after 32 hours of refusing to leave the room and dragged her into a shower before plopping her down on one of the kitchen bar stools and making pancakes for her. Whipped cream and blueberries on the side. And then she’d left to go wherever it is she goes every single morning after breakfast until she’s returning for lunch.

She slips the strand of silky straight hair behind her ear now and then glances up when Regulus advances farther into the aisle.

Their eyes meet for a moment, mint and blue gray, clashing, getting caught in each other. Hooks sinking in, ripping at the entangled spots, and when Regulus finds it in herself to break away she feels raw. Chafed. A hotly throbbing ache. Burning.

Regulus looks around in the shelves but she isn’t really seeing any of the things. It takes a moment and then she’s taken aback when she genuinely can’t find the Ritter Sports party mix. It should be right in front of her, nestled between the Kinder stuff and the no name rows of chocolate bars. There’s an empty space on the shelf where they should sit and Regulus blinks at that spot in confusion.

Before she can do more about it the cold metal of a shopping cart grazes Regulus’ naked calf, jolting her and making her look up at Barty where she’s come closer, still lazily draped over the handle of her cart, now sporting an amused expression.

Her smirk is horribly smug and sitting a little lopsided on her unfairly beautiful face, “Lookin’ for something, Black?”

Regulus opens her mouth to respond but then Barty props her chin in one of her palms and cocks her head at an exaggerated angle, pointedly letting her gaze wander over the shelf Regulus is standing in front of numbly. And then up.

Regulus blinks again and then follows her line of sight automatically. She sweeps her gaze back around and up and then spots the chocolates where they’re perched on the very top of the shelf. Neatly set up over the row of Reezes there.

All the way up there and impossible for Regulus to reach.

Her favorite chocolates.

Barty had taken the time to put every last of Regulus’ favorite chocolates on the top of that shelf with such care for order she’s never once applied to their pantry in the months they’d lived together back when they were a couple.

Regulus feels her browns knit, eyes burning with anger and when she looks over she watches the smile on Barty’s face turn wider. That’s about all Regulus is able to take.

Her chin starts crinkling and she feels her lips start to wobble despite the way she’s biting down on the inside of her lower one hard enough to draw blood. There’s nothing Regulus can do against the tears shooting into her eyes and the way her throat starts to clog up before, pathetically, a single sob escapes her.

And then she’s crying. Full on, shoulders shaking with it and Barty’s smile falls.

She looks properly panicked and the cart gets shoved to the side, colliding loudly with the opposite shelf, and then she’s there to pull Regulus into a hug.

Her head hangs uselessly as she weeps into the crook of Barty’s arm and chest, deep heaving sobs as Barty cradles her head and holds her tight by the shoulders.

“Hey, hey,” Barty mumbles, voice strained, “I’m sorry, Reg, I’m sorry. I’ll get them back down.”

Regulus uselessly ruts her face into the naked skin, tasting salty shame in the corners of her lips.

“Every single one of them, I’ll get them all down, baby. I’m sorry,” she whispers, breath hot on the crown of Regulus curls.

Regulus finds her hands fisted into the material of Barty’s shirt, clutching at it numbly while she tries to swallow the sobs, “I hate you.”

Barty nods above her, “I know, baby,” and if Regulus didn’t know any better she'd think she hears shame and regret mixed into the words. “I know.”

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