[yandere!vampires x fem!reader]
★
when the union if two schools, one embodied by humans, the other - vampires - causes four vampires to grow a deep rooted; and obsessive devotion towards one human girl.
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CRESSIDA RETURNED LATER,
just as the dorm lights began to dim. The door opened with a faint creak, and all three girls in the room—Y/N, Julia, and Aisha—looked up simultaneously. Her heels clicked softly against the polished floors as she stepped inside.
The room fell quiet at the sight of her.
Her silhouette lingered in the doorway of the common room before she stepped fully inside, her expression unreadable. She paused in the doorway, eyes flicking toward them—then away. The usual sharpness in her stride was dulled, her shoulders heavy, and for a rare moment, her gaze didn't carry its usual smug glint.
Y/N was now sat on her own bed, her fingers curled tightly around a now-cold mug of tea. Julia and Aisha stiffened as Cressida slowly sat down without saying a word. She didn't offer an explanation, nor did anyone ask.
"Hey" she said simply, setting her clutch down on her vanity.
"Hey" Aisha replied flatly. Julia didn't say anything, but her eyes lingered.
Y/N watched in silence, the room suddenly cold despite the heater humming faintly in the corner. There was something about the way Cressida avoided all of their gazes, how she walked stiffly, like her body remembered something her mind hadn't decided to share.
The tension between them wasn't loud, but it sat thick and uncomfortable in the air like smoke refusing to clear.
No one spoke.
Not about where she'd gone. Not about Eliza. And certainly not about the whispering storm that loomed heavier with each hour that passed.
★
Meanwhile, in the boys' dormitory—located deeper in the east wing of Auragon Academy—the silence was of a different kind. The type that crackled in the air just before a storm broke loose.
The room was dimly lit, with cold moonlight spilling in through the tall arched windows, casting pale silver across the rich black of the stone walls.
Adrian stood near the window, his posture rigid, arms crossed. Azul leaned against the bedpost opposite, arms folded, lips pressed into a grim line. Calixto sat perched on the edge of his desk, fingers absentmindedly spinning a silver ring around his thumb. Silas, as always, lingered closest to the door—his expression a blank slate, but his eyes sharper than ever.
They weren't alone.
Poised as always, but something in her eyes had sharpened—like a dagger unsheathed. Headmistress Valerie stood at the centre of the room, dressed in a practical black trench coat, the high collar framing her pale face like armour; beside her stood Headmaster Lockwood, the flickering sconce-light glinting in his silver famed glasses and the stern shadow beneath his eyes.
The room was silent until Valerie finally spoke.
"We've reviewed the scene," she said, her voice low but clear. "And there is something that doesn't align."
