Written For:
- Day 25 of 366 Days of Writing Challenge: Wishing
- February Event: (dialogue) "I love you, you belong to me." / "I don't belong to anybody. I'll never let anybody put me in a cage." / "I don't want to put you in a cage; I want to love you!", (word) Lovesick
- Word Prompt Express: wish
- Gringotts Prompt Bank/Sex & The City: (word) Obsessed, (word) Invisible, (word) Pity, (word) Perfect
- Gringotts Prompt Bank/Secret Diary: (word) Dominant, (word) Slave
Pairings/Characters: Bellatrix/Fenrir (one-sided)
Word Count: 557
Filthy Half-Breed
I'm delicious, you can't touch this, I'm that bitch that you can't fuck with.
Fenrir rolled onto his side, cracking his eyes open. The early morning sunlight was streaming through the boards on the windows of the shack that he chose to call his home, and the woman who had gone to bed with him was standing by the door, her back to him. She was expertly fastening up the back of her corset strings, tying them tightly.
Fenrir groaned inwardly and felt his nether regions stirring. Even post-sleep, all mussed up and a little untidy, Bellatrix Black was the most beautiful, perfect creature on the planet. "Come back to bed," he growled, and the tone of his voice made her turn. She threw a glance back at him, her lips curling into a sneer.
"No thank you," she purred. "I have to meet the Lestranges for breakfast."
"You always sneak out," Fenrir snapped. "Why can't you ever stay?"
Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "You know why. Anyway, I wouldn't want to be seen coming out of this—do you call this a home?" she reached out and ran her fingertip along a dresser near her, brushing off the dusty residue. Her face was crumpled with disgust, but it didn't bother Fenrir.
He had been obsessed with her for a long time. He wasn't ashamed to admit to her that she made him lovesick—the way she walked, talked and acted on a daily basis was enough to make him want to bow down his wolfish nature and pray at her altar. For a long time, Fenrir had been invisible to him. Out of nowhere, it was like his wishes had come true.
Bellatrix had a deep, personal need that needed to be fulfilled—and the man whom she was going to marry just couldn't fill those needs. She needed power, someone with a personality as big and dominant as hers - but someone who could be easily pushed down. Someone like Fenrir.
He didn't care if he had to be her slave. He'd spent years wishing for her to notice him, and when she finally did, he was determined to do everything he could to have her.
"You don't fool me, Bellatrix," he snapped, sitting up in bed. "Admit the way you feel; I know how I feel. I love you. You belong to me."
Fenrir regretted the words as soon as they slipped out of his mouth. Bellatrix flared at him, her rage seeming to seep out of her pores. "I don't belong to anybody!" she screeched, the loudness of her voice causing the ceiling to quake and dust to sprinkle down upon them. "I'll never let anyone put me in a cage! Do you hear me? Nobody."
"I don't want to put you in a cage; I want to love you!" Fenrir countered. He watched as Bellatrix's rage calmed, and she seemed to shrink down. He hoped that she would reciporate his feelings—apologise for her rough treatment of him, promise that she would love him forever.
Instead, her body started to vibrate with cruel laughter, and she looked at him with something Fenrir never imagined—pity. "You're pathetic," she muttered, grabbing her overnight bag and swinging it over her shoulder. Before leaving the shack, she threw one last, demeaning stare at him. "Filthy half-breed."