Past Lives (Dark/Damien x Reader)

sᴇᴠᴇɴ: ɴɪɢʜᴛᴍᴀʀᴇs

(Y/n) shot up out of bed, her heavy breathing echoing through her bedroom. She whipped her head around from side-to-side, relieved to see that no one was in her room; it was just her. As it always had been. This was the third time in the past few nights that she's been plagued by this... nightmare. Ironically, it wasn't as if she was getting chased down by monsters or being mauled or eaten alive. Even so, these dreams were very lucid and life-like, which made them all the scarier for her.

She was silently thankful for the fact that Ethan was living with her. Knowing that there was someone across the hall from her made her feel all the safer, yet slightly crazed. Why was she being plagued with these dreams?

It always started out the same: she'd be sitting on her office chair filing away until she felt her hands tied down to the chair. She would always look down at her arms and struggle through the invisible grip on them, but when she would look back up, her office was gone and she was looking at a completely black space. No floor; no ceiling.

After a few moments, she would hear this almost whispering chuckle, but on account of the open space and silence around her, the sound was amplified. She could never tell where the voice had come from, but that didn't stop her from whipping her head around to try to find the person responsible for her state. Oddly enough, the dialogue in every dream was the exact same, but never lost it's terrifying feel.

One thing that bothered her even as she was awake was the fact that she could hear the faint sound of that ringing again. The sound that brought her to her knees outside of Celine's 'empty' mansion. It gave her a headache by just thinking about it.

But in the dream, the sound just stayed close to silent. It was almost as if it was an introduction to something. Or someone as she would find out in the dream over time. It was an eventual thing, but she could see someone's dark silhouette off in the distance. As they got closer, she immediately would recognize his suit and tie, and the grey skin he harbored. And every time he greeted her, it always went the same way:

"Do you not recognize me, my love? I've missed you so badly." He whispered into her ear, his hands gingerly grazing her exposed arms.

The chair around her would evaporate, allowing her to stand up steadily and assess the man in front of her.

"W-Who are you?" (Y/n) asked, taking a step away from him. His chuckle echoed in her mind, sending chills down the girl's spine.

"My dear, don't shy away from me. You don't want this to end like it did last time, do you?"

His question continued to ring in her mind, her brain analyzing his words. What did he mean by 'last time'? When was 'last time'? Who was he? And how did he know her?

The only explanation she could think of as to how it was possible for this kind of thing to happen was that the mansion was either really haunted, or Celine was turning out to be a huge liar and was using her ancestor's seer abilities to mess with her. Both seemed plausible. Then again, it was illegal regardless of the fact that people were living inside, so why was she lying? What was the point of it all? Did she really want revenge that badly?

The man from her dream flickered back into her mind for a moment, allowing her to really focus on his features. She wasn't gonna lie: he was a pretty attractive man. But something about him was simply unsettling. She didn't understand what it was about him that made her feel so anxious, but she was one to trust her gut.

Sighing, she looked over at her alarm: 3 AM - the witching hour. Scoffing at the coincidence, she managed to get her exhausted butt out of bed and put on some decent outdoor clothing. It was breezy but never cold. After all, this was Los Angeles.